#people literally came for my throat over this but I’m older and not in the fandom anymore so I’ll say it

[royxrizafan]

Apropos of literally nothing, I finished Killing Eve and now I’m feeling bitter about how many shows I get invested in that end so poorly it makes me kind of resent the investment I made and not want to ever rewatch again. I honestly don’t watch a fraction of as much TV as I used to and I think I’m realizing that this is why.

[aonungstsahik]

“…but you’re so much more than that”

aonung x met!fem!reader

a/n; AHHHH! my second ff, i hope you all love it like my first one!!! i’m sorry if it doesn’t make such sense literally on barely sleep and having health problems literally but i needed this to be posted! don’t forget to tell me your guys thoughts!!! also sorry the late night posts

warnings; my bad spelling and writing, nothing else(that i know of)

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

you grew up with aonung as you were neighbors when you were little. he was one year older than you and never let you forget it. he was always protective of you, treating like his sister.

but as time went on and you guys growing into young adults. you both changed. both of you barely hung out anymore. he never found the time to make for you, as he was preparing to become the next chief at her his father.

and for you? you had all the time on your hands. your parents weren’t anyone special to the clan like his were. your father was a hunter and your mother was a herd picker for Ronal. mother wanted you to take over her place when she would get too old and frail. you would always complain to her that you didn’t want to be the next her but over time, you started to love being out in the sea and forest picking herds, studying them, getting two rocks and smashing them into paste to heal peoples bruises and wounds.

whenever you would talk to aonung it mostly was when he came in the medic hit from a fight. his mother would scold him every time, “why don’t you ever listen?,” she yelled at him “you’re such a disappointment…” she said as she walked out of the hut calling for her daughter to follow. his face was emotionless looking down, lips pushed together. as soon as you would get close to him and try to touch him, he would look up with glossy eyes and walk out. you looked over your shoulder watching him walk into the forest.

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

present day

today as you were walking to the hut, you heard ronal and her husband both yelling. as you were approaching the door you saw aonung and his friend, roxto, they just stood there nodding along and muttering sorrys. Tonowari dismissed them and walked out the hut, nodding towards you as he and his wife walked past you.

roxto looked at aonung, “hey man, i have to go…my parents are gonna be pissed,” he said as he placed a hand on aonungs shoulder walking out, muttering a quick bye to you.

you walked in clearly your throat to let him know you were in there. he looked up at you. he was about to walked past you but you grabbed his arm. “aonung,” you said looking at him “you’re hurt, let me help you…please,” you begged him. he turned his head to look into your eyes, you were looking up at him face covered in worry. he felt bad, you being worried about him made him feel like shit.

he turned his body to face you head-on. he pulled his hand up to rub your bicep, “okay,” he said softy while quickly to rub your arm “just don’t make that face okay? you look like you’re going to cry,” he said staring into your eyes. you muttered a thank you and told to sit while you got the herds you needed.

he watched your body moved from corner to corner of the room. he smiled to himself watching you talk to yourself checking things off a list in your head. you turned around, you saw him smiling at you so you smiled back. walking over to him you grabbed some rocks to crush up the herds.

“what happened now aonung?,” you asked as you placed some leaves between two rocking grinding them.

he sighed looking down “i got into a fight with the sully boys…again,” he confessed. you stopped grinding the leaves looking up at him with your eyebrows together. shaking your head as you grab some paste and rub it on his bruises and small cuts. “ow ow ow, don’t run it in so hard, you’re usuallly nicer,” he said as he faked frown causing you to giggle and let a small smile.

you looked into his eyes “it wouldn’t hurt at all if you didn’t do it in the first place,” you stated as you went to grab some other herds and grind them.

he chuckled at you, causing you to give him a confused look. “y/nnnn” he dragged your name out in a playful matter. “i think you keep forgetting i’m older than you,” he chuckled. it was quiet for a few minutes as you keep putting paste on him. he just watch as you softly run the paste on his skin. smiling as you look up every once in at his face, and every time you would look away and blush.

“y/n?,” he asked waiting for you to respond, you hummed to waiting for his question, “i’m sorry,” he said to you. you looked at you leaning your head to the side pushing your eyebrows together. “for the fighting, not talking to you, and keeping myself away from you,” he started softly.

you softly smiled to yourself. you grabbed his hand, rubbing his palm “aonung” you said looking into his eyes, “i was hurt when you stopped hanging out with me alone, talking to me, and coming to my hut every night to sneak out and play on the beach.” he looked down ashamed, you grabbed the side of his face forcing him to look up, “but i forgive you, i know how stress you are not being a disappointment, but you’re so much more than that, i see you for who you are aonung,” now cupping both sides of his face, rubbing his cheeks.

he smiled at you, removing your hands from his face, taking them into his own, interlocking them with his. looking down at your hands realizing how small they are, “thank you y/n,” he said looking up at you “really thank you for believing in me for no matter what,” he took one of his hands, placing his hand on your chin, “i see you y/n …i am now going to kiss you now,” he stated. you giggled at him not believing him for a second till you saw him lean in, you closed your eyes letting him kiss you. he moved his lips against yours, you wrapped your arms around his neck getting closer. after a few more second you pushed yourself back, putting ur forehead on chest giggling to yourself, putting your hand up to lips still not believing he kissed kissed you.

“stop gigglinggg,” he teased you, pushing you back a little so he could see your face. he rubbed your cheek, taking in the moment you both are having, alone finally.

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

during the whole interaction, his father was outside watching. he smiled to himself knowing his son was in safe hands from now on. he also walked to his wife to gossip what just happened.

one more a/n; i have three in works rn but i also have a life so please give me some time so sorry!!

tag list; @an0th3rsss

[xhmeusworld]

love is here | lee seokmin

genre: fluff, established relationship, college! seokmin

pairings: lee seokmin x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

word count: 777

note: not my best work, but seokmin’s the best boy and he deserved something

truly, you wished that you didn’t have to go to college. you wished that you didn’t have to deal with the stress that came with it, but you knew that you did no choice if you wanted your dream career.

that dream career was the reason why you were currently positioned at your desk, philosophy textbook open and your hand propping your head up. your boyfriend, seokmin, caused your bed to creak as he shifted his position, his eyes looking at you with concern.

it was Saturday and he desperately wanted to spend time with you, but you hadn’t even looked up from your homework since he first arrived.

he cleared his throat. “I know that your grades are important, but you need to at least take a break. you’ve been studying for two hours.”

you lifted your head to make eye contact with the older boy. the moment you pinpointed the concern in his facial features, you felt guilty that you hadn’t been paying him any attention since he showed up at your dorm two hours ago.

a sigh left your lungs. “sorry, seokmin. I just want to do really well this semester and to do that, i have to make sure that I know the material front and back even if it involves reading the same chapter twelve times.”

the brown-haired boy chuckled softly as he leaned over to plant a kiss on your forehead. “i’m sure that you’ll do fine, love. you’ve done all your homework and read everything at least once.”

you raised your eyebrows at him. “that sentence just came from a guy who is a vocal major and has literally understood every single music related term since age fourteen.”

lee seokmin was definitely someone special to this world. you guys had met through jeonghan who was a childhood friend of yours. seokmin became his roommate freshman year of college and the rest was history. you were bound to cross paths eventually, but never in a million years did you think that you guys would end up together, but you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

the connection was just… there and everything felt right when you two were together. even today when you hardly even spoken to him.

“and you can thank jeonghan for my extensive level of knowledge,” seokmin replied. “that boy never shuts up about music, which I don’t either, but that’s besides the point.” your boyfriend leaned forward once again before kissing your lips softly and pulling back. “my point is that I understand that not everyone is like jeonghan and i. people do have to study. I get that, but what I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t have to exhaust yourself over every subject. that never turns out well.”

you gave him a small smile as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know, but I don’t know what else to do to make sure that I do well.”

“love, grades aren’t everything. you can afford to not study constantly.”

“try telling my gpa that.”

seokmin smiled at your words. “okay, you are talking to someone who could honestly care less about the gpa system because it’s a fraud.” he climbed off your bed, stretching his arms over his head with a grunt. “besides, i know your gpa is perfectly fine and yet, here you are sitting here thinking about reinventing the wheel to run yourself over.”

your boyfriend held his hand out toward you. “that’s not healthy and as your boyfriend, it’s my job to ensure that you aren’t going to explode from too much academic stress. that means that I’m taking you on a date right now to go get pizza and then we are going to come back here and see where the night leads, okay?”

you smiled, gently grabbing a hold of his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. “okay.”

seokmin pulled you against his chest in a hug and you breathed out a sigh of relief you didn’t know that you had been holding. his arms just made all the worries in the world disappear.

he kissed the crown of your head. “you can continue studying how ever much you want tomorrow, but tonight, it’s just you and I.”

he pulled back to cup your face with his hands. with a huge smile, he kissed your nose. “i love you. i hope you always know that.”

“and I hope you always know that I love you more than you can ever imagine.”

seokmin wrapped his arm playfully around your shoulders, leading you into the hallway of your dorm building. “trust me, love, i know.”

[m0mmys-brat]

Okay I’m baked, it’s been a week & I’ve processed the moment.

Last weekend was my 21st birthday. My friends took me to a club in the downtown area where I live, it was packed but so much fun! We get there & at the bar I spotted a GORGEOUS older woman brunette woman who ended up dancing & flirting with me, buying me a birthday shot & THEN walking me in the back corner bathroom stall at the club & giving me the best birthday present.

This woman, let’s call her C, I first saw her at the bar while my friends & I got drinks. We literally bumped into each other because of how packed it was in this place. Immediately I’m stumbling over myself apologizing & she said “don’t worry sweetheart” AND HER VOICE WAS THIS PERFECT PITCH OF LOW WITH JUST ENOUGH HIGH PITCH TO PUT ME IN AN EARLY GRAVE, like my brain melted it was beautiful. She wished me a happy birthday, because my dumb friends forced me to wear the sash they made me, that’s how we get to her buying me a shot. We ended up on the dance floor many songs & drinks later. We danced, hands roamed, introductions were made, she made her intentions known immediately (which turned me on so fucking much, like yes please be so direct with me if I’ve been eye fucking you all night) at this point, bless my friends, they kept an eye on me but not like hawks eye on me, they let me have my fuxking moment!

I swear it’s like she read my mind, the flirty banter, her calling me out each time my eyes wandered & my hands stayed still too long. I finally peeled myself away cause I had to pee (& also to get a moment of relief from the constant arousal this woman was shooting thru my body) I got though the maze of people to wait in the line for the bathrooms watching girls fixing their outfits & makeup in the small mirrors of this shitty club bathroom. Went into the back corner stall, finish walk out the stall door to find miss C walking toward me.

Come to find out she waited a bit then came in looking for me, she damn near shoved me back into the stall & against the wall after she shut the door. Asked me if it was okay to kiss me & of fucking course I said yes. Make out sesh lead to roaming hands, my hands on her boobs & her thigh between my legs immediately having me whining. This woman chuckled, OUT RIGHT CHUCKLED at my whimper. She did call me “sweet girl” & bout came just from that alone. But she did let me cum on her thigh as she let me suck/scream into her neck as I came which left her with a pretty mark on her throat. 😈 but the entire time I just wanted to feels her fingers in the deepest parts of me 😭

I did end up making myself cum multiple times when I eventually got home that night I’m still vibrating from it. She did give me her number, we’ve been on & off texting. But I genuinely think it was just a silly thing that happened and may never happen again. But hey, the flirting & sexy texts are fun 😌😈🤷🏼‍♀️

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello! I wanted to know if you could write about the child reader, who comes home crying because at school all the kids in her class ignore her for being "weird" and "unbearable". I recently discovered that for these reasons when I was little nobody spoke to me and I remember the number of times I cried for it. Thank you very much in advance <3

My sweet love, you are perfect the way you are, so many people have toxic viewpoints of others, they judge before they truly know others. I’m sorry you had to deal with something so awful because people can’t teach their kids to never judge others. I’m here for you if you ever want to talk my darling. Besides, being weird and unusual is way more fun than being normal and boring!

-The door barely made a sound as you opened it, closing it behind you, your gaze downcast as you slipped your backpack off followed by your shoes, leaving them by the front door in the shoe rack.

-Loki saw you as he was heading from the living room to the kitchen, “Hey Y/N! welcome- Y/N?” his voice was bright and cheerful to start off with, then full of concern when you didn’t look at him, not even acknowledging him.

-He came over and squatted before you, holding his knees together as he brushed your hair out of your face, a frown on his lips as he saw the tears swimming in your eyes,

-You bit your bottom lip which trembled lightly, as you were trying hard not to cry.

-Nikola overheard Loki and exited the living room, seeing you as your hands started to grip at your shirt, seeing you upset as tears started to bubble out.

-The two men were quickly trying to console you as the first sob ripped from your throat, trying to figure out if you had fallen and were hurt somewhere, trying to get an answer out of you.

-Kojiro heard you sobbing, as did Zeus, the two older men coming to your side, trying to comfort you and calm you down.

-You clung to Kojiro, stepping into his arms after he kneeled, and he rubbed your back gently while the four men shared a small look, worried.

-Once you were calmed down enough to talk, Zeus wiped your tears from your cheeks, “My-my friends… they don’t-they don’t want to play with me anymore!”

-Loki instantly glared, quickly becoming furious, “What- why?! You’re so much fun to play with!”

-You sniffled softly, rubbing your cheeks with the back of your hand, “They said I’m weird- that I talk too much about history and about gods. They said I’m annoying!”

-You were only five, but you knew so much about history and different gods because they were literally your family, they told you stories about their lives, and your mind was like a sponge with them, you were considered a genius because you knew so much about history!

-But to hear that your friends thought it was annoying that you knew so much that you were so smart, it broke their hearts but also made them so angry to hear that other children were being so cruel to you.

-Tesla, having faced something similar, as he hadn’t been like the other kids he grew up with, was the one to hug you close before grinning down at you, “There’s not a thing wrong with you, Y/N! You’re absolutely perfect! They just don’t understand that you’re much smarter than they are!”

-Loki then grinned brightly, “Yeah- our Y/N is the best!!” your eyes widened a bit at their words as Zeus ruffled your hair, “Most bullies will try to intimidate others that they are afraid of, that’s probably why they don’t want to play with you, they’re scared of you!”

-You didn’t want your friends to be scared of you, but Kojiro was quick to add on his own view, “What Zeus meant is by they might feel like they’re not good enough to play with you, since you’re so smart. And that fear might be making them want to push you away.”

-You sniffled softly, asking what you could do to change so your friends would play with you again, so they would want to be friends with you.

-Instantly all four of them shouted, “No!” which shocked you as they all told you to never change yourself for others. You should be happy as you are without having to change anything about yourself!

-Their words of encouragement made you smile, but the ice cream Loki got you afterwards, the five of you sneaking out for a treat, was even better!

-The next day you went back to school with your head held high, a bright grin on your face as you greeted your friends who were a bit surprised that you were talking to them, after they had told you to leave them alone.

-You pulled out a book on Greek ruins for show and tell, something Zeus gave you, and you showed all the pictures of the buildings, talking about them in great detail.

-Some of your friends still thought you were weird, not wanting to have anything to do with you, but some came over and asked you questions about the buildings which you told them about and you beamed when they expressed interest in seeing more of your book, after show and tell was over with.

-They wanted to know more about other ruins and cool places and you were happy to oblige!

[burstfoot]

SARIA BLAST

List for reference:

Saria x Gladiia x Kal'tsit (you can break this up into its constituent ships)

Saria x Penance

Saria x Whislash

Saria x Ho'olheyak

First up is Saria and some women older than her.

Sariia (Saria x Gladiia):

I like the idea of an intelligent, strong, hypercompetent, silver-haired, nigh-indestructible woman falling for an even more intelligent, hypercompetent, silver-haired, nigh-indestructible woman. Also they’re both over six feet tall, there is no way they’re both under six feet according the the game. You’ve also got that sweet Land x Sea dynamic going on.

I think it would start as months or years of them staring at each other intensely at formal events until one of them cracks.

You can also put some Saria x Kal'tsit in there for some Calcium x Calcite action. Also the smartest silver-haired polycule on Terra.

And of course, I’m assuming that Gladiia/Kal'tsit is happening at all times.

Anyways, more Saria ships:

Saria x Penance. Two women in positions of moderate power, in roles designed to protect people, kept from that role by the meddling of other forces which has gone ignored by those supposed to provide oversight. Also middle-aged woman yuri. (Saria is canonically 34, but I refuse to believe she is younger than 40. Well, Kristen is canonically 34 and they went to college together.)

Also, because Kristen isn’t confirmed dead, Penance could advise her on the divorce. Apparently Saria only needs to make it public knowledge and have a reasonable chance of Kristen seeing it, according to a quick search on divorcing absent, living partners.

Oh yeah, throw Kristen x Saria in there, but we know that’s pretty much canon.

Next is Zoria (Whislash x Saria). This one started out as a typo when trying to type Zofia. They’re both women who had days they look upon with fondness, now torn from them, with no way to go back. Also Zofia is single and Saria is… newly single. I haven’t read much regarding the Nearls. This ship is my least thought out.

Finally: Saria x Ho'olheyak. This one started when I saw the CG of Ho'olheyak grinning widely as Saria pinned her to the wall by the throat (same), but there’s actually something there.

If you interpret Saria as a woman haunted by her past (like in DramaticGaze’s “A Dance”), Ho'olheyak could either provide a strange comfort as a woman who has quite literally had her future torn from her for the sake of the past or they could end up in manipulative toxic yuri. AND it’s middle-aged woman yuri!

Saria/Gladiia: Sorry, don't see it. They're kinda similar, but from such different worlds and not in a way that interests me like Susie/Gladiia... and the thing about Land/Sea applies to Gladiia and 90% of the cast. Saria/Kal'tsit: Didn't really get sparks between the two of them when they talked in the manwha. Similar missions, but live in entirely different worlds, can't see it. Saria/Penance: In terms of crack ships I am more interested in this one, I think there's a bit more chemistry there but I'd need to see like, a story around it to be convinced.

But I do have to say (and no hate when I say this): Penance is not middle aged, it's never been confirmed she's middle aged, and I know saying 'she doesn't look middle aged' in a gacha game means nothing, but she doesn't! I don't think her age is elaborated on anywhere, but she's treated as the new generation in Siracusa alongside Vigil (who is like early 20s at most), so I don't know where this idea of her being in her 40s came from. Realistically, I think she's around early to mid-30s (has spent 10 years as a judge after school) but I wouldn't be surprised if we learn that she's like, 28

Kristen x Saria: Wrote a fic about it, it's the core of Lone Trail and the Manwha, it's absolutely heartbreaking, I love them. Whislash x Saria: Self-admittedly not much here. They were meant to co-star in a sportswear skin line together though

Ho'olheyak x Saria: Oh Saria had one really unfortunate night shwants to forget about while still trying to move on from Kristen on the landship after Lone Trail and Ho'olheyak won't let her forget. Love it

[uchihaharlot]

please please please please please more thoughts on shisui sucking his own fat cock that was so fucking hot every time i think about it i get so w 🤣❤️❤️

As you wish. I see Shisui and cock in the same sentence, who am I to ignore the salacious whims of my people? 😈

NSFW; the finer details of Uchiha Shisui sucking himself dry;

— So how did he he even get in this position? 😂 The origins of when Shisui started giving himself head are so long ago, Shisui just had to give in to the impulse. Life is short, it’s not like people weren’t using shadow clones to fuck around. Everyone who learned the technique eventually got curious. Shisui chalks it up the way Kanye West does — ‘only good gon’ come is this good when I’m coming.’ So yea.

— Let’s not lie, he’s a horny bastard. He’s even shoved his fingers in his own ass and milked himself while doing this, though that’s a topic for another time. The first time he slipped his drippy cock in his mouth — legs bent over his head, it was scary actually. Worried he would suffocate himself. ‘This is what girls see?’ He actually gained a new appreciation for the blow job. How much work actually went into it, and well, practice makes perfect.

— It was better than his hand, no lie. Shisui was so sweaty and breathless from the combination of being bent like a pretzel and the euphoria that was his cock in his mouth. He came fast too, probably too fast — which raised a new dilemma for him.

— The first time he tasted his own cum he choked, literally. Went down his windpipe because it straight shot and rocketed down his throat. Spit up a bit of it out his nose 🥹 The time after that he came on his face, for research purposes. Over time learned the art of swirling his tongue right before he was about to bust, which helped with the choking and created a vacuum that allowed his little Uchiha swimmers to glide down his throat. Though he really likes pearl necklaces.

— ….completely changed his diet to accommodate this little quirk of his, for a while Shisui was a solo man. Did what he had to do for a proper self face fucking. Figuring out which fruits would make him less…tart. He drew the line at salmon, since that is his favorite food — he would just skip those days. Starts each day off with a smoothie, just in case. As he has gotten older, sorry Shisui, sometimes he doesn’t have the energy to bend over so yea, ok, he might use a shadow clone of himself. It’s still innovative!!

— Despite his reputation for being the village bus stop at one point in time, this is a secret he keeps to himself…until his s/o walked in on him (recently lol). How unholy that must’ve looked. They talked about it — well, fucked it out. This woman, she is a god send, I tell you. He still thinks about her dainty fingers pressing into his ass and her hand stoking him as his lips slurped his own length.

— Other than that, there really isn’t much more to say. That time she caught him it had actually been months, and he was worried she would think he was a freak but then she said, ‘you’re talking to someone who eats your ass…’ yea, she did do that. Often too.

[maddyguru]

Jujutsu Kaisen's Spin Off

Summary: Gojo Satoru has a wife. And she's not bitching about how gojo mistreated her in many of those fanfics. But rather, she's the one who's mistreating our favorite gojo satoru.

Chapter notes: Yumi is Maddy perez. this story follows the anime and manga, (I'm trying), and when you read this story, just think of her maddy sllsllsls. Also, you're going to hate her lmao. A lot. And a lot of her lines are from maddy in the euphoria show, it will be referenced in italics bc i can see gojo being with a woman like maddy just cuz...

This story has a playlist. You can listen to it when reading 💞 if you can't access the link, lmk!

Chapter 1

The dress she wore didn’t even look like your usual wedding dress. 

Yuuji’s eyes were staring a little too long at the picture that was hung on the wall of his sensei mansion. It’s his first time seeing a bride wearing a see-through sequin silver dress for her wedding. And she wasn’t even covering much. It’s enough that her dress was see-through, but it’s parted in the middle, showing her skin and lingerie underneath. Yuuji expected her to at least wear a veil to cover her face. Instead, it was a diamond-like veil with crystals blinding people’s eyes. (Yuuji literally doesn’t know what accessories she’s wearing, but he admits that she’s hot as fuck).

 Gojo sensei look… normal. Just a groom suit, but he appears to be younger than he was now, a dark sunglass was his substitute over his usual blindfold that the 15-year-old frequently sees in jujutsu high. Gojo sensei’s arms were all around her waist and her back was pressed against his body, head tilting upwards showing her beauty. Like a siren, she lured him. 

Who is this woman? Yuuji knows what his sensei said earlier, but more precisely, who  is  she? Where she’s from? Is she really older than him? How does she look so perfect and sexy with those huge wrecks and big butt- 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

The pink-haired boy jumped, his head quickly spinning to see where the voice was. And there, right at the top of the stair of this mansion, the woman he was entranced by staring down to look at him. Her hair wasn’t in an updo unlike in the picture, but it was styled as wavy curls, and the length was directly on her shoulders. Her eyes were adorned with the most captivating graphic liner, and her lips were painted with a nude color that matches her skin and style perfectly. She’s as beautiful as Yuuji saw in the picture. If anything, she’s bewitching in person and her voice; Her language is so foul but her voice was alluring just like her eyes. 

Is he… falling for his teacher’s wife?

“I said, who the fuck are you?” She walked down the stair quickly, but her eyes were staring at him cautiously. Eyeing him as if he’s an intruder in her mansion.

“Ah, my lovely Yumi, the sunshine of my life! Whatever you do, don’t attack poor Yuuji Itadori-”

“I’m talking to him, not you.” 

Immediately Satoru went quiet. His face wasn’t showing fear because his giggles were heard when you walked toward him. 

Fuck, she’s heading toward him.

What should I do? Ok, Yuuji, act natural, act natural!

“Who are you, again?” 

She was eyeing him up and down, and Yuuji could feel her judging him closely. Her stare penetrates his whole being, and he could feel how he was shaking like a leaf the longer she came closer and closer. 

It took him a second to focus. He swallowed the lump in his throat and bowed. 

“Nice to meet you! My name is Yuuji Itadori. I’m 15-year-old and my type of woman is women like Jennifer Lawrence-”

“I asked who you are, you don’t need to mention your age and your daily porn flick, brat.” 

Stunned was his reaction. Damn, who would’ve thought that Gojo sensei’s wife is so…. Sarcastic? How does he live with her, then? The bubbly Gojo sensei and this sarcastic, Goddess- the beauty of a woman-  

“Are you opening a foster house now, Satoru? I swear first it’s Megumi and his sister, and now this kid.” She walks past Satoru and Yuuji, heading towards the kitchen. The older woman didn’t even glance at either of them but continued walking. But to Yuuji, she’s not walking. She’s strutting, “I don’t remember pushing a 15-year-old out of my cunt.” Cackling softly, the woman opens the top cabinet, struggling a little, and immediately chugs down her champagne. 

Yuuji’s eyes occasionally glanced at Gojo, waiting and undoubtedly, excited for his teacher’s response to his wife’s. 

From what Yuuji heard, Satoru was a part of a huge clan in the jujutsu community (he’s not really familiar with the whole thing since he’s new). If the sensei’s a part of a huge clan, then the clan must be very traditional-like. They must be practicing old Japanese culture and emphasizing the traditional ways of doing things; marriage must be done in Japanese style unlike what their picture represents. The way a wife talks to their husband must be respectful and head bowing down with traditional clothes on, unlike his wife,  Yumi . Instead of a kimono, she’s in her olive-colored robe and gold earrings. There was no obedience shown in her eyes and body language. Yumi, from his observation, is not a woman who’d bow down to any man. Not even  the  Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive. Her legal husband. 

Instead of being angry and scolding her, Gojo- sensei grinned like a Cheshire cat and leaned closer toward the woman. 

“Is that an invitation to have another baby? I’m alright with that,” a punch was placed on his right chest, and within seconds, Satoru was flying across the room. From the kitchen counter to another kitchen counter. The brute force from her punch had him flying.  He’s thrown across the room. 

This chick is strong. 

Satoru Gojo was untouchable, from what he observed so far. How the hell she’s able to touch him? Is it a soulmate connection thing? Is it because Satoru is her husband? Could it be because she’s as strong as him? 

Damn. 

Her face was showing pure disgust. A few seconds later, she shook her head toward him. “it’s hard enough with two boys, now you want me to push another kid? Do I look like a cow to you?” 

So, they have kids? Where are they, then? Why does Gojo sensei never say he was married and had two kids? Nobody mentions the whole thing. Not Shoko-san, Yaga sensei, or Nanamin. 

“Ow, that hurts! Men don’t like physical attacks, Yumi- yumi.”

“Nor do men love periods, your point?” 

Before Yuuji knew it, they were walking out of the kitchen and he finds himself following because what the fuck was he supposed to do? This is not his house!

When they’re walking towards the living room, only then does Yuuji realize how huge this mansion is and he can finally see pictures of two boys. Twins.

They look almost 9 -10 years old. Side to side with each other. They’re spitting images of their father, the man he’s studying jujutsu from. The two boys have white hair and blue eyes, a familiar grins on their faces. Yuuji was excited when he saw the kids because he would love to meet them, given the chance. Where are they? Are they already sleeping? It’s already so late.

“Why is he here?” Now she has more of a serious aura when she asked this. The fact that he’s in front of her and they’re talking about him makes him nervous. Is he… bothering them? Does she want privacy with her husband? 

Gojo laughed, turning to face him. “He’s, my student. The higher-ups fucked his life up and now we’re hiding from them!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “so you decided to hide him here? Without talking things with me?”

He was quick to disagree and chuckle at her response. “No, no, don’t get it the wrong way, I’m introducing him to you, not hiding him here.”

Yuuji wasn’t paying attention to their conversations about him, but he was appalled at how Gojo- sensei is keeping his life as private as he could! The older man is known to be talkative and run his mouth all the time, and Yuuji expected his teacher to be showing off his (extremely hot) wife to all his students. 

But maybe there’s a private side in Satoru Gojo that’s waiting to be explored. 

She looked at him for 5 seconds, and later, she smirked. 

“I know you for what now, Satoru? 13 years?”

“There’s more to this meet and greet, right?” 

She shifted her gaze to her husband, folding her arms the more she stared at him. 

There’s an eerie silence when they’re looking at each other and finally, Satoru smiled. That same cunning smile Yuuji always sees at school. 

“I want you to do something, Yumi. I’m asking you a favor. As a husband, I’m asking you…”

Her curious eyes studied her husband, and Satoru finally say it. 

“Please help me train Yuuji Itadori.” 

.

.

.

Yuuji turns to his right. He couldn’t sleep a wink, it seems. 

It’s been 2 hours ever since he was sent off to the guest room in this house. Even the guest room looked like something that would come out of a movie; so perfect with a clean room and bed so large Yuuji could sleep with two more people. Golds were decorated in this room, and he remembers gawking at the sight. 

Is Gojo sensei  that  rich? 

So many questions are running through his head. Like, when will he finally see Nobara and Megumi again? Why do the higher-ups are after him? And why did Gojo sensei ask his wife to train him? She couldn’t be any stronger than him, right? Or could it be, that they’re equal? 

He cackled softly with his hands on his face. Of course, Gojo sensei would marry someone equal to him. In strength, looks, and wealth. Yuuji is convinced that the woman he saw a few hours ago is also from a wealthy clan. She must be. 

How strong is she? Must be too strong to the point Gojo sensei trusted her enough to train him. Must be a special grade as well. Someone equal to him and that’s why she’s the mother of his children. Yuuji made his own conclusion. 

His thoughts were interrupted when there was a knock on his door. 

Who could it be? He wondered to himself when he got up from the bed and opens the door. 

“Ah, Gojo sensei, it’s you.” He muttered, giving room for the older man to enter. His teacher smiled; his blindfold is away from his face. Yuuji finally saw his beautiful blue eyes again. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, and Yuuji was more than happy to let the older man in. It’s his house, after all. 

His teacher walked into the room and later sits on the provided couch, staring out the window into the night sky, and finally turned to Yuuji, his grin still on his face. 

“I’m sorry about my wife. She can be a little mean from time to time. Heck, even with our twins she’s like that,” Satoru tee-heed after he shared some parts of his wife with Yuuji, and the boy can’t help but smile as well at the confession. 

If you defend someone like this, you must be head over heels in love with him, right? 

Gojo sensei must really love his wife, and Yuuji made his conclusion.

“It’s ok, sensei. I heard women are like that all the time!” 

His lips were quickly covered by the older man’s and he looked panicked as soon as Yuuji said what he said. 

“Please, whatever you do,  please,  don’t discriminate against women in this house. Especially not in front of my wife, she would kill you, literally.” 

A nod was Gojo’s answer, and the older man quickly let his lips go, the both of them were quiet for a while until his teacher opens his mouth again. 

“She agrees to train you by the way.” 

Well, that threw him off guard. Judging from the way she was looking at him, he thought Yumi would decline. But she accepted? 

“That’s weird, sensei. She didn’t even look at me when we talked,” 

“My wife has a knack for surprising people. She can be kind at times when we least expect it, you know!” 

“…ok?” innocently, he answered. 

His face apparently couldn’t lie. Before Yuuji knew it, Satoru explained to him why Yumi decided to take him as her student. 

“I told him you’re Sukuna’s vessel, and that you must eat his fingers. Cursed objects… that reminded her of,” the white-haired man stared at the ceiling and smiled but his smile was sad, reminiscing. 

“It reminds her of someone she used to know. I guess that’s why she accepted my favor. Yeah, it’s because she still couldn’t let  him  go.” 

Huh? 

“Sensei, sorry. But who’s ‘he?’

“Nothing, Yuuji! Now, get your sleep because best believe she won’t be easy on you!” Just like that, he was left alone in the room, curled in his blanket. 

Well. What was that all about?

The last thought Yuuji had when before he went to sleep was, that Yumi wasn’t smiling in the wedding picture. She looked far from happy. Shouldn’t you be happy at your own wedding? 

[vritest]

3rd- 2nd Times The Charm

tw: drugs, a lot of misspelling cuz i’m too lazy to proofread

eddie munson x fem!reader

a/n: this is the first time i’ve written in so long so excuse the bad plot or whatever 😭😭 i just finished watching stranger things 4 and i’m obsessed with Eddie y’all oml

•••

“so what do you think?”

“hell no.” max said. you looked at her with pleading eyes rolling over her bed to face her in her desk drawing something random with some crayons you have given her for her birthday.

you groaned. “c’mon max, it’ll only be a first time thing” you cooed, playing with your headphones that weren’t connected to your cassette. knotting it with your fingers. she only stared at you, but you knew better. you knew max better than anyone in the world. you two have been best friends and neighbors for the longest. even if you were 4 years older than her, she thought of you as an annoying older sister. but many times it wasn’t often felt the opposite. you basically lived at her place. especially since your parents were always doing out, going on business trips or whatever.

max sucked her teeth. sighing as she continued to draw. you looked up to meet the back of her readhead. “imagine if mike and dustin find out you’re literally buying drugs from their club leader or whatever the fuck” she stopped and sarcastically laughed “AND not to mention he’s literally my freaking neighbor!”. you picked up a bowl of chips you were munching on the whole time.

“so?” you said in between crunches. max looked back at you dropping her crayons. her blue eyes sinking in to you.

“so you’re being fucking ridiculous y/n” she groaned looking back at her drawing. it’s as if she noticed your eyes were burning in the back of her head because the next thing she said was..

“no.”

••••••

you knocked on the trailer. no response.

kno-

“okay, okay i’m coming goddamit wait” you heard a voice said. yup it definitely was him, at least you know you weren’t being set up.

the curly hair metal head opened the trailer door, his eyes examine you. he was wearing the same jean jacket he’s always worn with the same hellfire shirt as well. now, you wouldn’t say you only came here for the drugs. besides that, it was something else you came for too.

you’ve been kinda crushing on eddie. for a little.. okay maybe a lot but you also wanted to get high. you haven’t done that ever since you thought you bought laced shit that made you see hallucinations like a cat in the kitchen baking a cake, that said “happy birthday y/n!”…. it wasn’t even your birthday.

so you thought, get high + crush= he falls in love with you. bingo.

the thing is, eddie has also been having something for you. he just loves the way you were always so unbothered. it was pretty unbelievable for him, and surprisingly you were one of the very few people that has never judged him based on the rumors about him.

but he never, ever thought you would show up to his doorstep. but there you were. messy hair, the same soft red lipstick on your pouty lips. you were mesmerizing in his eyes, and he hated using fancy words like that.

you looked around his place as his eyes were stuck on you.

quickly he noticed how long you two have been staring at eachother. he fixed his hair and cleared his throat giving a friendly smile, at least he thought.

“shit, i’m sorry. i didn’t even notice i was standing here for like 30 minutes wasn’t i?” he asked.

you laughed out loud, glad that he acknowledged the awkward tension.

“i have time, don’t worry.” you said, putting your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket.

he welcomed you in, and you walked in as he headed to the kitchen and asked you if you wanted something to drink. and suddenly he forgot what he was, he was a drug dealer and you obviously weren’t here to hook up with him or something. he felt so dumb he could mentally slap himself a million times.

you sat there on his couch a few minutes talking a quick look around his small trailer home. it was kinda messy and it definitely smelled like weed. even if you felt your claustrophobia getting to you, for some reason it felt comfortable.

“is this how you treat all your clients?” you snorted. he bit his lip unable to get words out of his mouth. god he was so embarrassed right now.

“nah, uh i just kinda forgot-“

“you were a drug dealer?”

he laughed. “kinda? i don’t know i mean- since you’re here it makes everything so much harder-“

you looked at him confused. your confused eyes making eddie want to hide behind the counter and never show his face to you again, because he can’t handle looking in to your eyes once more before they destroy him.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked. you asked so many questions, it was starting to get eddi anxious besides him being high out of his mind already.

“oh nothing that i’ve totally been like- crushing on you for the longest” he said waving his hands up in defense running his tounge through his teeth. you widened your eyes and slapped your hand to your mouth and let out a stream of laughter. he totally screwed up. he could only laugh with you sarcastically.

“oh my god, really?” you snorted out.

was this reality? no it couldnt. no way. your crush… eddie munson. like you?

you had to let that sink in your mind for a while.

“hell yeah really” he said. finally feeling a little more confident.

you fiddled a bit in your seat. your eyes meeting his once again, he was still standing behind the counter, talking out what looked like a can of spaghettios.

“me too.” you said softly.

he grinned widely.

••••

5 hours later.

“you know the first time i got high, i got some laced shit from this dude behind a gas station with some boho looking ass beard” you said laughing. “And then i saw- i saw a cat making me a birthday cake, that was in june and my birthday wasn’t until fucking november”

eddie wheezed, and as he did he coughed out smoke so hard it went through his nostrils. you squeezed your eyes shut and laughed some more.

“why would you trust a random junkie for weed? i thought you were smarter than that y/n” he said in between laughs.

you laughed even more at his ugly laugh.

you sighed contently, eddi passed you the blunt, as you inhaled and exhaled.

“you’re so cool, where have you been all my life?” he said with a smile. resting his head on the back of the cough. you looked at him exhaling a big cloud of smoke resting your head next to his.

“to be exact a few blocks away from here”

you’re faces both lit up again. you looked into his red stones eyes, the both of you were so fucked.

then, you both burst in to laughter.

[kittenofdoomage]

Reparations (Dean Winchester)

Summary: Dean forgets something important and has to find a way to make it up to you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 3871

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, slight relationship angst, non-hunter-but-aware-reader, romance, more fluff, smut

Ao3 Link (most of my works can be found here)

Tumblr Masterlist (a small selection of fics posted here)

Patreon (early access and option to request fics)

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR REDISTRIBUTE MY WORK IN ANY FORM ON ANY SITE. 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT (MINORS DNI)

Dean threw his duffel bag on the bed unceremoniously, ignoring Sam’s chatter as he stomped to the bathroom. Once in there, he splashed some water on his face, leaning on the edge of the grimy sink and staring into the slightly blurry mirror as the liquid dripped off of his jaw. It had been a long drive, and he wasn’t all that happy to be spending the entire week away from you. You’d been gracious about it, like you were with every case that came along, choosing to remain at the bunker as you weren’t, and didn’t want to be, a hunter. Mostly, you kept to the sidelines, occasionally drawing a devil’s trap or researching if required but the hands-on work was left to the boys. You existed in their lives as Dean’s girlfriend, his comfort, the small slice of normality in his weird existence, and Sam’s best friend, as well as someone to keep the home fires burning while they were off saving people and hunting things.

Popping his head through the open bathroom door, Sam appeared in the mirror’s reflection and Dean straightened as he saw him, grabbing for a towel to dry his face. 

"Dude. You okay?"

"Yeah,” Dean grunted, patting the towel against his throat. “Just wanna get this hunt over with and get home."

"You seem a little -" At his brother’s warning look, Sam shut up, clearing his throat and motioning to the papers he’d gathered on the table. "Nevermind. Wanna go through what we got, nail our vics down?"  The older Winchester nodded as he tossed the towel across the sink and stepped out of the small bathroom. "So, we’ve got six victims. All male, all in their thirties, all missing livers, kidneys -" 

Dean interrupted, squinting at the date on the local broadsheet. "Is this today’s paper?"

Sam glanced at it and nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Groaning, Dean slumped down onto the end of one bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I knew she was being off."

"Who?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Y/N." Dean dropped his head into his palms, shaking it lightly. "She was acting funny. Like, she didn’t mind us going away, but she was dropping hints and I’m such a freaking idiot, I completely messed up!"

"Dean, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about."

"It’s her birthday,” Dean sighed, resting his hands onto his knees as he squared his shoulders. “And I forgot. Worst boyfriend ever. I can’t do anything right."

"Why don’t you call her?" Sam slung an arm over the back of his chair, twisting slightly to watch his brother get to his feet and begin a slow pace around the room. Dean growled in frustration.

"And say what? “Hey honey, sorry I forgot your birthday. I’ll bring you home some entrails!”. I can’t make this up to her, Sammy! I forgot her friggin’ birthday!"

"To be fair, you guys have only been dating, what? Six months? And you’re not great with dates."

"That doesn’t excuse it," Dean grunted, slumping down onto the edge of the bed again. "I don’t know what I can do to make it up to her." 

The room descended into silence, and Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully as he looked back over the papers. Dean picked at his nails, and his brother knew that internally, Dean would be punishing himself for a long, long time for this. But Sam knew that with the right apology, you’d forget it. After all, you loved Dean. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him, and you knew more than most how forgetful the elder Winchester could be when he was stressed.

"Look, we’ve got a week. How about we get the case done, and then we plan something that’ll make Y/N completely forget that you forgot her birthday?" 

Dean looked up at Sam, chewing the inside of his cheek, slowly nodding along though his brother could see the cogs turning in his head. “You know… I think I got an idea.”

Usually, you parked your little compact outside the bunker, but today it was raining heavily and you didn’t really anticipate any thrill in a dash to the door without getting wet, plus you had several bags of groceries that you did not want to juggle through puddles. Parking in the garage was the obvious option, though it took a hot second to remember the code for the door.

The lights were already on as you pulled in, which wasn’t anything unusual, and as you parked up, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Dean that made you smile as you read it, even though it was only a simple “b back soon x”.

Okay, so maybe another person would be irritated by the fact that he had forgotten their birthday, though he’d realized it soon after he left for the hunt and had promised to make it up to you in a somewhat steamy phone call made from a gas station two hundred miles away. You didn’t know what he had in mind but you supposed you’d find out soon, and you had to admit, you’d really missed him after nearly a week alone in the huge cavernous building of theirs.

It was easy for you to forgive his slight forgetfulness or the fact that he couldn’t get his socks in the laundry bin. Dean was a hero - Sam too - and you respected that their lives weren’t like other folks. You’d seen the blood and gore, the fallout from bad hunts, and you took pride that you were the sliver of normality that kept at least Dean going. Stress levels were unusually high with their almost-thankless line of work; you weren’t about to stress him out even more because he’d missed a fairly insignificant day that came around every year.

Locking the car, you struggled up the steps with your arms full of groceries, shouldering the door open and leaving the lights on for when the Winchesters returned. Your first stop was the kitchen but as you headed down the corridor and into the library, you noticed the lights were all on, which was not how you’d left them. You frowned, hearing the soft hum of music floating through the halls.

Concern had you depositing the groceries on the library table, and you quickly located the pistol hidden in a fake book on one of the shelves, checking it for bullets and finding it full. You knew how to handle a weapon, thanks to your grandfather, and Dean’s more recent coaching, but that didn’t stop nerves settling in your belly as you followed the sound of the music out of the library.

The music became clearer as you got closer and closer, discovering the source was the kitchen, and the song was something old that you didn’t know the name of. It struck you as odd that someone would break in and play classic rock while they… cooked? You sniffed, picking up hints of garlic and tomato in the air.

“You say it’s urgent, so urgent,” came a familiar and slightly off-key voice. “So oh, oh, urgent, just wait and see -”

His voice grew muffled and your curiosity couldn’t be held in check any longer. You slid into the kitchen doorway, taking note of the candles everywhere, the table set up with a ratty old check cloth and cutlery. Lowering the gun, your gaze moved to Dean’s pert ass where he was bending over the stove, humming along with the song as he tasted whatever he was cooking.

“Perfect.”

“Dean?”

He spun on the spot, bright green eyes wide as he saw you in the doorway, and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped the tray in his hands from flying out of his grasp. “Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you back just yet.”

Strolling forward, you carefully place the gun on the countertop with a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t expecting you back at all,” you commented with a smile, taking in the tight blue button down that outlined his frame, hugging him in all the right places. “What is all this?”

Dean grinned, placing the tray on top of the stove. “Happy birthday,” he said, gesturing to the ready-to-serve spaghetti on the stove.

Your smile widened. “You didn’t have to make me dinner, Dean.”

“I wanted to,” he insisted, shrugging lightly. “I felt really crappy about missing your birthday.” 

You approached, stopping just in front of him to reach up and touch his face, pushing up on tiptoes to kiss him softly. “You’re a big ball of goo,” you teased, lowering yourself slowly. “I feel under-dressed.”

“You look perfect,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you again. “Now, why don’t you take a seat while I serve? There’s something on the table for you.”

Curiosity peaked, you let him swat you away playfully, moving towards the table to take a seat. At the spot you assumed was reserved for you was a box, wrapped delicately in sparkly wrapping paper. “What is it?” you asked, glancing over to where he was plating up the food. It smelled good, good enough that your mouth began to water, and you suddenly remembered the groceries. “Oh, shoot, I left the groceries in the library -” You started to move but Dean shook his head.

“I’ll get it. You open your present.”

He darted off and you frowned, before shrugging and tearing at the paper, revealing a familiar white box underneath. Your frown deepened at the labeling, trying to imagine Dean being anywhere near a Build-A-Bear store, struggling to picture him lining up among giggling children, smirking at the amusing image. As you got the box open, he returned with the groceries, quickly moving to put them away.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, gaze landing on the fluffy little tan bear in the box, neatly dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans, and a plaid flannel. “Oh, god, Dean! It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die!”

Dean chuckled as he shoved a box of donuts to the back of the refrigerator. “I figured if I had to go away for another week, you’ll have someone to keep you company.”

“That’s so lame and adorable,” you giggled, hauling the bear from the box. “You made a bear of you.” You hugged the tiny Dean-bear close, feeling a slight sting of happy tears in the corners of your eyes. “I can’t believe you went to a Build-A-Bear.”

“Anything for you,” he threw out, accompanying it with a corny smile. “I even picked up a bottle of your favorite wine.”

“Made Sam go with ya, huh?”

“Not my fault you don’t like whiskey.”

You laughed again, still hugging the bear as he served dinner. When he approached the table with the loaded plates, you removed the box and settled the bear on the unused part of the cloth, resting him against the condiment basket.

“Okay, we have spaghetti bolognese with cheddar, not parmesan, because -”

“Real cheese, please,” you giggled.

Dean grinned, placing your plate in front of you and you inhaled deeply. “There’s pie for dessert,” he added, sliding onto his stool.

“It smells wonderful,” you moaned, picking up your fork.

“Wine?” Dean offered, grabbing the chilled bottle from the bucket beside him. You smiled and nodded, waiting for him to pour a generous amount into your glass. “Sam’s gonna come back tomorrow. He figured we could use some alone time.”

“You really pulled out all the stops, huh?”

“Well,” he drawled, pouring his own glass of wine, “to tell you the truth, I was terrified I’d get back here and you’d be gone. I mean,” he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze nervously, “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“It was a birthday,” you dismissed softly. “I have one every year. And I wouldn’t walk away over something like that.”

“And on some level, I knew that, but I also felt like a dick anyway.”

You scooped up some spaghetti onto your fork, taking a bite and moaning. “Oh, god, this is good. Did you put bacon in it?”

“Hell, yeah,” he laughed. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to do something special to make up for it. And I thought that a meal would be nice. Me and Sam talked about it and he suggested a nice restaurant and all that, but I remembered that you don’t like public food places much because you don’t like eating in public. And you don’t like doing that whole..." He waved a hand dismissively. "Outside social things. Which I’m cool with. Not a fan of it either." You smiled again, taking another bite as he kept talking. "So, I decided that a night with just you and me, your favorite meal, some nice wine, maybe a movie..."

"It’s perfect," you whispered, smiling at him, looking down at your meal bashfully. No one, let alone Dean, had ever done anything so sweet for you. "Thank you."

He blushed and ducked his head. "Well, eat up before it gets cold." A panicked expression crossed his face as the music changed to Guns-N-Roses and he looked up to the stereo, then back to you. "Do you want me to change the music? This is an old mix tape that might end up with some Metallica on it."

"No. I like this song. Besides, whoever said rock wasn’t romantic has clearly never heard Bad Company." 

Dean smirked and the both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, the soft tones of rock drifting through the bunker to accompany the meal, and you wondered how on earth you’d gotten so lucky.

"I enjoyed that," Dean said, stretching dramatically as you remained curled into his side on the large bed. The TV was rolling the credits for the movie you’d just watched, and to be honest, you’d been so comfy and sated and full of delicious food and wine, that you hadn’t paid attention to most of it. You knew it had been about some kind of spy ring and there was a famous guy in it but you couldn’t remember his name. Either way, just being curled up and dozy on Dean’s chest was wonderful, and you were about ready to fall asleep. 

"You okay?" he asked, nudging you gently; you nodded, making a contented noise in your throat as you snuggled closer to him. Dean chuckled, his hand coming up to brush down the side of your face, the touch of his skin on yours leaving a tingling in its wake.

"Tonight was really perfect, Dean, I mean it." 

Your words were quiet but sincere, and he smiled softly. Of course you were worried - Dean had a natural tendency to think what he had done wasn’t enough, and you were keen to reassure him that right now, at this moment, you couldn’t be any happier. "No one’s ever done anything so…nice for me."

"Well, I guess romance ain’t dead after all,” he drawled, smirking at you in the cocky way only he could manage. Drawn in, you craned your neck, kissing him softly, smiling against his mouth when he intensified the caress. His arm came up around you, fingers toying with the strap of your bra. "At least we’re already in the bedroom, huh sweetheart?" 

"That is definitely a good thing," you replied, pushing him onto his back. He opened his mouth to protest, but you shushed him with your index finger and slung one leg over him to straddle his hips. "Uh-uh. You did the dinner, and the movie, and made up for my birthday. Now, it’s time for me to say thank you."

Dean’s face split into a filthy smirk, and he raised one eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And how are you planning to do that, Y/N?" 

You grinned right back at him, your fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt, flinging it open with a bit of dramatic flare. "Hold still, and you’ll find out." You leaned down, pressing a swift, closed mouth kiss to his lips before you darted your tongue out, licking a path down over his chin, feeling the rough stubble underneath your touch. Dean groaned, his arousal making itself known where you straddled him, his hips thrusting up towards you, pressing against your already hot center. You paused in your action, looking up at him with a reprimanded glare. "I said hold still." 

He chuckled, and you felt his Adam’s apple bob against your cheek. In response to his laughter, you nipped at his neck with blunt teeth, making him hiss, smiling up at him mischievously when you moved your attention to his left nipple. Sticking out your tongue once more, you swirled your tongue around it, sucking lightly at the skin. Little moans came from his mouth at the sensation of your mouth on his sensitive skin, and you reached up with your hand, tweaking his right nipple gently as you laved attention on the left.

"Fuck..." Dean cursed, his body trembling with the effort it took not to flip you over and take control. He hated being the bottom but for once, you were taking charge. Luckily, you didn’t do this all the time - Dean Winchester was a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to give you what you wanted, so most of the time he took the lead. Right at that moment, you were in control, and you were going to make him whimper like he did to you. 

You abandoned his nipples, sucking and nipping a trail down over his stomach. He flinched a little as you dipped your tongue into his belly button, and you smiled against his skin, knowing he was at least a little ticklish there. With shaking fingers, you unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down to expose the very top of his pelvic area, eyeing the delicious v-line that sloped down into the depths of the denim. Placing a soft kiss to the skin there made him groan loudly, and you pulled his pants down further, allowing his cock the room to spring free. As you sat back, pulling his pants all the way down, leaving him only wearing his unbuttoned shirt, you surveyed him like you’d earlier salivated over his cooking.

Dean was covered in scars. Bullet wounds, knife marks, scratch marks - there wasn’t much of him that didn’t have evidence of the life he’d led, but it didn’t take away from the sheer beauty of him; if anything, it added to his gorgeousness. Without thinking, you reached out and trailed a finger over his thigh, where a long scar stretched from his knee almost up into his groin. That was the mark of a Wendigo - you remembered sewing him up, shortly after you’d met him.

As if he realized what you were doing, Dean propped himself up onto his elbows, looking down at the scar. "Yeah. That was a bad one. You did a good job with the stitches though." He caught your wrist with his. "What’s wrong?" You looked up, meeting his green eyes with a smile.

"Just realized something." He waited for the answer and your eyes felt the sting of tears. "You did all this for my birthday, when all I want, all I ever want," you leaned forward, "is for you to come home safe and in one piece." His face became serious for a moment and you crawled over him, pressing your lips to his. "I love you, Dean Winchester." 

He pulled you closer without missing a beat, kissing you furiously for a few seconds before pulling away panting. “I need you,” he whispered, sliding one hand down to your hip before suddenly flipping you onto your back.

Your shirt came off, along with his, and you quickly found yourself disrobed of your pants, unable to think straight as he peppered kisses on any patch of skin that was revealed to him, finally returning to your mouth when he finally had you nude underneath him. His cock prodded your entrance impatiently, and Dean thrust his hips gently, leaning on his elbows to look down at you. 

"As much as I would love to have you continue with whatever you were building to, I need to be inside you right now." 

“Uh-huh,” you managed, sucking in a breath as Dean pulled back a touch to guide himself into you, watching your expression dissolve as he filled you inch by inch.

It was urgent and desperate love making, unlike how you usually went about it. Maybe it was the time apart, which seemed to be increasing lately, or the wistful remarks. The thought of you losing him and him losing you was one that forever plagued the both of you but here, now, moving with him, feeling him pushing you to the edge, his grunts echoing in your ear as his fingers gripped your hips with a bruising intensity, you felt like this would last forever.

"Dean -" you gasped, as your climax surged through you, your head falling backwards as his hands moved from your hips round to hold your lower back. Shifting, he pulled you up until you were straddling his lap, his strong arms holding you fast as you swam through the bliss he’d instilled in you, thrusting harder and harder until your ass was slapping against his thighs with an audible echo. He was kneeling now, holding you like a ragdoll as you tried to control yourself, clinging to his shoulders desperately and crying out at each stroke. 

When you’d regained your senses, you found his lips again, thrusting your tongue against his as you started to push up with your calves, riding him as hard as he was fucking you. The room was awash with the scent of sex, the sounds of your skin meeting, both of you drenched in sweat as you felt the slight burn of the friction between you. But the pain was fleeting, and all that came back to you was the feeling of him splitting you apart, down the middle, his urgency spilling over into you. The need to feel some sort of life before it was too late.

"Baby, I’m gonna cum," Dean groaned, clutching at you desperately. You nodded, gasping for breath, and unable to respond verbally as you started to come undone again. His cock swelled and pulsed and with an almost primal sounding roar, he spilled himself into you, holding you tightly as he finished, bringing you along with him.

You remained locked together, your legs straddling his, his cock remaining stubbornly hard in the wake of his orgasm, the thickness still filling you. His hands stroked your back lovingly as yours clasped his face, kissing him softly. There was no need to speak. Both of you knew where you were, and there wasn’t any need to clarify it. Without any sound, Dean lifted you away, before gathering you back into his arms as he lay on the bed. The TV was playing ads for Netflix as he pulled the sheets over you both.

Laying there in his arms, you smiled, feeling safe, content and loved. Maybe he’d never say it, but as he’d pointed out, romance definitely wasn’t dead.

Thanks for reading! Please consider reblogging, leaving a comment, or sending an ask (you can even do this anonymously!). Feedback generates more content!

[canonicallyobserving911]

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

FANON speculation for season 7

I wasn’t tagged by anyone but I wanted to share a snippet from chapter 7 of “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

I’m excited to finish writing Chapter 7 because it starts right after Buck’s mental breakdown and even though he pushed Eddie away at the end of Chapter 3, Eddie’s there to help him pick up the pieces. He literally found Buck lying on his bedroom floor practically unresponsive and after almost three weeks of them not talking to each other, Buck finally lets Eddie in and he explains everything that happened to cause his mental breakdown.

___________

Here’s another snippet from chapter 7 of Buck and Eddie’s early morning conversation after one of Buck’s most difficult therapy sessions.

___________

It’s after 2:00AM and Eddie’s sitting on the couch watching an oldies TV channel that plays nothing but television shows that aired prior to the 1970s.  The volume is on low because he doesn’t want to wake up Buck but he’s surprised when he hears his footsteps coming up the hall.

He looks towards the hallway as Buck enters the room and asks, “Hey… what are you doing up?  Did the sound from the TV wake you?”

“No, I woke up to go to the bathroom but I saw the light and uh… I came in here to check on you.” Buck replies as he sits down next to him.

“I’m ok.  I was too wired to fall asleep so I figured watching reruns of ‘The Three Stooges’ would help.”

“But you’re still awake so… I guess it’s not working.”

Eddie chuckles.  “No it’s not.  I never understood why Moe was always so mean to Larry and Curly.”

He looks at Buck but he notices even though he’s looking in the direction of the TV, he’s actually looking past it.  He realized earlier in the week that it’s another thing Buck’s been doing lately, he zones out in thought but after he processes whatever he’s thinking about, he eventually starts talking so Eddie patiently waits.

As he stares off somewhere into oblivion, Buck remembers all the stories other people told earlier today during his first “Savior baby” support group session and he’s still having a difficult time processing all of it.  One story sticks out from all the rest because there was a teenage boy who shared his story and he reminded him of himself when he was 13 years old.

His name is Eric and he explained the way his parents had him so he could save his brother Dennis who’s seven years older than him.  He said they took one of his kidneys right after his 9th birthday and he’s had multiple painful bone marrow extractions since before he could remember but that’s not all.  Now they want him to donate again but he doesn’t want to do it since the recovery time is long and excruciating.  Eric’s story sounded so familiar to his own story that it made him wonder if life would have been better for everyone if he hadn’t been born.

Buck clears his throat and asks, “Do you ever think about how… it’s not worth it?”

It’s like déjà vu as realization sets in for Eddie because they’ve had this conversation before but their roles were reversed and the question hits him in the chest like a boulder has been dropped on top of it.  As he looks at him, he tries to keep his facial expression neutral but he’s not sure if Buck even notices since he quickly glances at him then looks away.

“Not the therapy. I—I mean…”  He runs his hand over his face and continues. “Is being born even worth it?”  He meets Eddie’s eyes then quickly looks away.  “I mean with all the crap we have to put up with when… dealing with our parents… or in my case… the people who brought me into this world.”

Eddie doesn’t interrupt but he does raise his eyebrows.

Buck clears his throat and nervously rubs his sweaty hands on his thigs to dry them on his sweatpants. “I wanted them to love me but they’ve always had their own selfish reasons for bringing me into the world so…” He trails off.

A loud and uncomfortable silence engulfs the room.

Then after about a minute, in a low voice, Buck continues.  “Maybe things would have been better if I was never born.”  He shrugs his shoulders.  “I mean my defective parts prevented me from being able to do the one thing I was born to do and since I couldn’t do that… I’m just wondering what’s the point of it all since I wasn’t meant to be here in the first place?”

Eddie’s heart shatters at Buck’s words because after all these years, he still hasn’t realized how important he is to them.  Not just to him and Chris but to Maddie, Bobby and the 118 since they all need him.

How will Eddie respond to Buck’s comments👀?

___________

Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 -  Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 -  More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - Will be posted soon.

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I’m enjoying writing this fic because it’s giving me the chance to unravel the mess that was the 6x18 ending for Buck, Eddie and Chris.  Also, it’s taking them places the show refuses to go including Buck finally having a mental breakdown and Eddie being there for him the same way he was there for Eddie in season 5.

Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading

Read chapters 1 - 6 are already available on AO3.

[sunshines-bee-farm]

Cotton Candy Skies [Agere Minecraft Fic] [APTR AU]

Trigger warnings: fighting [happy ending]

PUDDLES WATCHED. 

Over the course of his months with Star and Oliver, he did a lot of watching. Watching that soft voice overtake Oliver’s throat as he came close and helped Star ease into her regression. She didn’t regress voluntarily, like Puddles did, rather it happened as a trauma response or just her brain deciding she needed some serotonin. Puddles saw it first hand one night, when Star and him got into a fight. 

“I just feel so… pushed aside,” he had admitted, and Star got defensive. 

“We literally asked you to move in.” 

“I know, but…” He cringed. He was bad at expressing himself. He never made any sense. 

“I just don’t understand what more I could do to make you feel like you’re part of the family.” 

Part of the family. He stared at her, suddenly angry. “What?” 

“What more do you need?” 

“Part of the family?” He repeated, standing. 

Oliver wasn’t home. He had run out to do some late-night hunting, as they were almost out of food. He wasn’t there to step in. 

“I’m not part of anything. I eat dinner alone in my room.” 

“Dinner that Oliver cooks,” Star argued. 

“I play by myself.” 

“With my toys!” 

“I never asked for your toys!” 

She stood, too, crossing her arms. Her breathing was coming out quick, erratic. “This is so unfair, you’re making me feel so bad and we— we let you move in, I don’t—”

Puddles flinched. He didn’t want to make her feel bad. His whole intention here was to convey his feelings. He was never good at that, though. He always made people feel bad, which was why he had to stop conveying his feelings, immediately. It was never worth it. 

He should’ve stayed silent. 

Because now Star was hyperventilating and snapping angry, mean words, until Oliver burst the door down and ran over to her. He spared Puddles a glance, once Puddles merely caught through wet eyes, and he could have sworn Oliver looked worried. But it was just hope, as always. Because he picked up Star and carried her into their bedroom. The door shut. 

And he was once again alone. 

So he went back to watching. Watching the hand on the small of Star’s back, pulling her close so he could hug her. Watched the pride in his eyes as he accepted a coloring Star did for him, messy and imperfect and so cute. Watched them stumble out of the bedroom in the morning, when she’s big and they have stars in their eyes but only for each other. 

Puddles had only had one caregiver in the past. An older man who he couldn’t remember the name of. They were together for four months, and it was the worst four months of Puddles life, disguised as the best. Most people who had been through something similar to Puddles swore off caregivers, partners, the like. The difference was Puddles saw that his experience was not universal. Puddles saw, through Oliver, there were good caregivers out there. 

Just not for him. 

Puddles stopped sleeping in his bed. He didn’t know why. He just did. Somehow he found it unbearable to be beneath the soft covers, reaching his paw out endlessly for ghosts under the sheets. He curled up inside Star’s toybox, full of plushies and hard blocks that dug into his sides, and somehow a blanket always ended up over him by morning. Star made a comment about it being his nest. He didn’t mind. She didn’t sound like she did, either. 

One day Puddles didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t want to. And no one asked him to. So why would he? 

It wasn’t until it was dark again when there was a hand on his shoulder. Dry tears matted his fur beneath his eyes, so he didn’t raise his head, only hummed what he hoped sounded neutral at least. 

“We’re worried about you, Puddles,” Oliver said softly, and it made chills chase across Puddles’ skin. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No,” he admitted. He hated lying. 

“What’s going on?” He was using his Caregiver Voice. Why was he using his Caregiver Voice? 

“Nothing,” he mumbled. 

“Just didn’t feel like getting up today?” 

“I guess not.” 

There was silence. Puddles wanted to cry. They always left him alone, why not now? 

“Well, Star is off visiting a friend,” Oliver said. “And I think you and I deserve some bonding time. She gave me free reign on the dollhouse. What do you say?” 

Puddles looked up in confusion. “What?” 

“Do you want to regress and play with me?” He asked clearly. “I think it would help you feel better.”

Oliver wanted him to feel better. Why was that so hard to get through his head?

“Come on, pup.” He smiled and held out a hand. “Come play with me.” 

He couldn’t resist that if he tried. He took his hand and allowed Oliver to pull him out of the toy box. He was still dressed in the onesie he had on last night, which was lavender and covered in pink axolotls, so he didn’t feel too awkward being in the playroom. 

“What do you want to do first?” Oliver asked. 

“Um…” Puddles hesitated. What if he suggested something Oliver hated, but he agreed just to be nice? Puddles would feel so bad. 

“How about you just tell me yes or no, okay?” Oliver smiled. 

Puddles nodded. Oliver looked around the room curiously. 

“Hm… dress up?” 

Puddles hesitated. Then shook his head. 

“Pretend?” 

Puddles perked up. “Yes!” 

“What kind of pretend?” 

“Um…” He thought about it very hard. “Can we play house?” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” Oliver grinned. “Who do you want to be?” 

“The son, like Christopher Robin!” Puddles ran forward and grabbed Star’s soccer ball. “But I’m also… a pirate!” 

“Okay,” Oliver laughed, “sure, you’re pirate Christopher Robin. And who am I?” 

“You’re also a pirate,” Puddles said, crashing down into little space. “But we don’t know that we’re both pirates and we need to hide it from each other!” 

“Ohhhh, okay, that’s interesting, sure. So how do we know each other in real life?” 

Puddles faltered. There was an obvious answer, one Puddles liked very much. But he just couldn’t live with himself if he made Oliver or Star uncomfortable. 

“Maybe I adopted you.” 

Puddles looked up in surprise. “Yeah?” 

Oliver patted Puddles’ head, and offered him a hug. Puddles took it eagerly. “Yeah, kiddo. But we were both pirates before then and we have no idea!” 

Puddles giggled. “Yeah! And now I’m late coming home to dinner!” 

They broke apart and Puddles ran out of the room, only to come bursting back in, fake panting and apologizing for being late. He pretended to take off a pirate hat and throw it behind his shoulder. Oliver laughed, and it surprised Puddles with how sincere it sounded. 

“You worried me sick!” Oliver cried. “You were gone all day, and I had no idea where you were.” 

“Sorry,” Puddles said sheepishly. “Can I help make dinner?” 

They stood at Star’s play kitchen and pretended to chop vegetables, putting them in a giant stone pot. They pretended to be mother and son until it got dark, avoiding each other when they were pirates and eventually having the big reveal, gasping overdramatically and pretending to be unsure of how to move forward. Eventually Puddles fell asleep, curled up in Oliver’s lap in a pirate hat. 

Star came inside the next morning to find Puddles curled at the foot of their bed. Oliver rolled over in bed, his head at the pillows, and pulled Star close. 

“How was your time with Puddles?” She asked uncertainly. 

“Great. He’s a great kid, just like you.” 

“So are you wanting to ask him?” 

“I think so, but I’m not trying to rush you.” 

“I…” Star thought about it for a second. “I’m not ready, but I wouldn’t feel right hiding our intentions from him. So why don’t we just see what he wants and go from there?” 

Oliver kissed her forehead. “My little Star, so smart. We’ll talk to him when he wakes up.” 

What they didn’t know, is that Puddles had heard the entire conversation. 

___

Tag list (ask to be tagged):

@lottilamb

[darkmermaidao3]

Clarity Chapter Two (Bonten Sanzu)

Minors do not interact (18+ fic)

Warnings: Implied Gang Activity, Implied Violence, Attempted Murder, Guns, Blood.

Emails/text messages will be in blue italics!

“It’s starting to look like I’m going to have to buy you a sleeping bag.”

The woman’s head lolled up at the voice, her lavender pools filled with confusion, she’d been so engrossed in what she was reading that the only thing she’d registered was a familiar voice speaking.

“What?” she questioned, her voice expressing just how lost she was; the older woman rolled her eyes, not looking surprised whatsoever that she’d been off in her own little world.

“Falling asleep at your desk again, huh?” she guessed, sounding disapproving; she immediately shook her head, she hadn’t been asleep, just focused. “Geez, do you ever go home?”

“Yes.” She retorted easily; she’d gone home just four days ago to refill the automatic feeder in the kitchen for her cat and do some basic things around the house, she was on the cusp of something great and didn’t want to waste a second.

“Once a week doesn’t count.” The other argued, a stern look on her face. “You need more than two hours of sleep a night.”

“My thesis-” the twenty-three-year-old began.

“Will be here when you come back.” She interrupted, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s a holiday weekend, take the time to get some real sleep for once.”

“I will, I just need to finish editing what I have so far.” She explained, her voice on the same page as a child being scolded; she really didn’t want to lose the flow that she had going but she knew for a fact the woman in her doorway wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if she didn’t go home this weekend. “I literally have four pages to go.”

A heavy sigh came from the older woman, an exasperated expression on her face.

“Doctor Ikeda, I get that your research is important to you but taking care of yourself matters just as much.” The secretary reprimanded lightly; she nodded in understanding, she wasn’t running herself ragged or anything, she just couldn’t sleep with how much was racing around in her head and it’d drive her crazy if she didn’t do something with those thoughts. “You’re constantly on the move. If you’re not seeing patients then you’re hold up in here, when was the last time you went out and had fun?”

Yuki pondered over the question for a moment, the last time she’d been out had been…

‘Hm, was it for Akari’s birthday? Or Choyo’s?”

She was unsure exactly how long it’d been, either five or eight months but that was neither here nor there; she went out sometimes, her friends were aware of just how busy she was with work and her research. They were just as busy, all of them having just graduated university in the past year. Sometimes she wished that she was still there but not often, a person didn’t realize just how competitive people with high intelligence could be when it came to being top of the class until they were at each other’s throats like rabid dogs. Although she’d only cared about getting her medical degree, being on the receiving end of dirty looks had gotten old rather quickly, especially considering she’d been the youngest person in her first year at fifteen. She’d made some friends though, all of whom were the “normal” age for university, and they’d looked out for her during her years there since she’d been so young; she couldn’t count the number of times that Kaori had gotten defensive with those sorority girls.

“You can’t even answer that because all you do is work.”

“Midori-san.” She attempted, she instantly shut her mouth at the stern look from her secretary.

“You need a vacation.” Midori stated; her tone was just the same as her grandmother used to get with her when she was pushing herself too hard, Midori had four children so pulling out the “mom voice” was a piece of cake for her. “And not to do research, a real vacation. Go have fun for once.”

“But the clinic-” she argued weakly; she sealed her lips once again over the disapproving expression on the woman’s face, it was beginning to look like arguing wasn’t going to do her a bit of good.

“A week isn’t the end of the world.” The secretary spoke, her voice matter of fact. “All of us would be thrilled to see you take a vacation, you push yourself too hard Doctor Ikeda.”

The young woman bobbed her head lightly in understanding, her days off when the clinic was closed for the weekend were never actual days off, she always used them to research and work on her thesis so it would (hopefully) be finished by the time the next conference came about; as much as she didn’t care about what people thought, she really wanted to rub her success in Shimizu’s face, guy was a pompous jerk. Back to the more pressing matter, she couldn’t fathom closing the clinic down for a week just so she could take a vacation, her patients needed her, and her staff shouldn’t have to miss out on a week of pay so she could relax; that wasn’t right nor was it fair. She knew that voicing that to Midori right now wouldn’t do her a bit of good though because the woman was insisting that she take time for herself, and she hadn’t been the only one to do so over the last several weeks, apparently all of her staff were on the same page about how she did “too” much. The secretary begun hovering more often when she realized just how long she was staying after closing time, always pressing her to go home nowadays. Agreeing was the only thing she could do, and it would urge the woman to go home to her family rather than wait around for her to wrap things up, she nodded again.

“You’re right Midori-san, I’ll think about it.” She promised, her voice sincere; the woman pursed her lips, eyeing her with suspicion. “I’ll look through my planner and find a week that’s clear, can’t just drop everything and go on vacation.”

“You’d better, you’re only young once.” The secretary commented thoughtfully. “You need to enjoy these years, not work yourself half to death.”

Yuki nodded once again, silently hoping it would be enough to hold off the woman for the next few weeks until she (hopefully) finished her thesis and maybe once she had, she’d take a day or two off. The next four days would be odd enough since it was a holiday, the clinic was always closed on Saturday and Sunday but an extra two days was going to throw her off; she’d have to spend that time researching otherwise she’d drive herself mad. She always had so much going on, working at the clinic, occasionally getting calls from the hospital about referrals and she always wound up dropping everything to run over to meet her newest patient, her charity work at the orphanage close by; her research was the sole thing that was for her, as odd as it sounded, it relaxed her and was her version of a break. She could feel a breakthrough coming with it too, which was why she was so engrossed in it presently, she’d been working on this since her first year in university. Her grandmother had always been her motivation to accomplish great things and she deeply hoped that the woman was proud of her, wherever she was; the woman who raised her would most certainly be on the same page as her secretary though when it came to her lack of sleep, she could just imagine the scolding Gran would give her over it.

“Thank you, Midori-san, I’ll keep that in mind.” She assured, her voice earnest; the woman nodded in approval, seeming relieved that she’d finally “broken through to her”, she couldn’t be sure how many times the woman had complained about her stubbornness.

“Good, I’ll see you Wednesday and those circles under your eyes had better be gone.” She spoke, her tone adamant; the young doctor internally cringed, she’d have to make sure to start hiding those because it was doubtful that she’d get more than a few hours a night, just as it’d been for the last several months. 

“I’ll see you Wednesday, goodnight, Midori-san.”

“Goodnight, Doctor Ikeda.”

Her shoulders went slack when the door of her office shut as the woman exited, finally relaxing somewhat now that she was alone and turned her attention back to the slew of papers across her desk, rifling through them to figure out where she’d left off. She preferred having physical copies of everything as well as digital in the case that something should happen to cause her to lose either, having a backup plan was important and she wasn’t about to let eight years of research go up in smoke. She may have only had four pages to go with editing but that was only for her physical copies, she’d have to update the digital version as well which would take another two hours on top of finishing the papers on her desk. Her secretary would’ve killed her if she’d confessed to that part, not to mention everything else she’d left out. She still needed to go through her new patient files that the hospital had sent over, another two hours added to the two for editing, plus she needed to check on the progress of all those lab tests she’d put orders in for, and reply to all the emails she’d received over the past four days; she really needed to stop putting those off but emails were her least favorite thing to deal with.

‘Just get it over with.’

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, reluctantly gliding a single finger over the mousepad of her laptop to wake the computer, the screen swapping out from black and could’ve groaned aloud at the sight, those fifteen emails staring back at her. Her chest heaved with a heavy sigh, scrolling her way down the screen to the first and clicked on it, her lavender pools filled with boredom. Replying to other doctors was probably her least favorite thing to do and it was undoubtedly why she hated checking her email, she’d rather not talk to any of them unless it was to do referrals and the like. Every single one that she’d dealt with thus far were constantly looking for any reason to scrutinize her, people said age was just a number but that was a load of bull, she was forever on the receiving end of endless judgment because of how young she was. Shimizu was a different case even though he was only twenty-seven, his whole family were a bunch of doctors, so no one gave him crap. She couldn’t count the number of times he’d instigated heated discussions solely because he didn’t like her, he’d been the youngest doctor in Tokyo at twenty-three at the time and she’d stolen that title from him at nineteen, right after she graduated university, it was an absurd thing to hold a grudge over.

She’d flown through university faster than most, knocked all her courses out and did her internship at a clinic just like the one she herself had opened up two years ago. The older couple had met at university, both of whom were studying to became doctors and they became good friends, they opened a clinic together after a few years of working under various doctors, eventually falling in love and marrying. They were amazing people, great doctors that cared deeply about their patients and their clinic itself was to help the underprivileged, money had never been a motivator for them, it was all about helping people; she still to this day found that admirable. As much as the woman wished she could do the same for all her patients rather than a handful of pro-bono cases a year, she wasn’t nearly established enough nor financially secure to do so just yet, but she would be one day. Being able to go to the orphanage and check up on the kids was good enough for right now, they didn’t receive nearly enough funding to provide proper medical care for all the children, so she made a point to always make time for those trips, always dragging a bag of over the counter medicine in for the staff to keep in stock; her next trip there would be coming up next week so she’d need to get a head start.

Her finger just barely slid across the mouse pad, moving the curser and clicked on the send button, her reply for a patient referral being whisked away, her face filled with boredom while she clicked on the next email. She could’ve sighed in relief, it wasn’t anything that needed a reply, merely information about the next conference, the when and where, a reminder for everyone to reply to the upcoming email when it concerned attendance, she was sure that email was in her inbox too. She took a moment to pull her planner out, flipping through the pages and marking the day in question, making some short but thorough notes before snatching her phone off the desk, doing the same thing digitally, going as far as setting a reminder even though it was a good two months away. A single click of the mouse, hitting the yes button on the screen to RSVP to the conference, send, email whisked away into thin air. Another click, the sound of her typing filling the dead silence as she went on in great detail about what she would be covering during her panel/lecture, click send, whisked away. She’d only covered four out of fifteen emails and she was struggling to push through it, silently reminding herself that if she put it off then come Wednesday, she’d have an overabundance of them to reply to rather than the eleven she had left.

‘Ugh, why me?’

How she wished that Midori could reply to these tedious emails for her but unfortunately, they were out of her realm, she had to count herself lucky that the woman could reply to all the ones that came to the clinic’s emails, otherwise she would’ve ripped the hair from her head. Yuki knew she wouldn’t have been capable of running things smoothly without the secretary, she made her life so much easier by scheduling all her appointments, dealing with the clinic’s email, returning patient phone calls, dealing with insurance. She communicated everything the nurses, lab techs, phlebotomists, etcetera, needed to know day by day; she was blessed to have the staff that she did, all of them were amazing people. As wearisome as the emails were, it was the last thing she should’ve been complaining about and should’ve been the least stressful thing workload wise but her distaste for them put it at the top of the list, it was the only thing that she regularly procrastinated on. It would’ve been one thing if she didn’t have to reply to ninety percent of them, she would’ve been fine just reading through them but no, she had to deal with stupidity like-

‘Ugh, what does he want?’

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, an email from none other than Doctor Shimizu Makoto, she hadn’t spoken to the arrogant jerk since they’d gotten into it at the last conference four months ago so what was his issue now?

‘…what?’

Had she read that right?

Doctor Ikeda,

It’s been a while since we’ve last spoken, I hope you and your staff are doing well. I apologize for my attitude at the last conference, clinical hours at the hospital seem to put me in a bad headspace and I’d just recently had to give a young couple some unsettling news, so I was the furthest thing from lighthearted that day. I sincerely apologize and hope you can find it in you to forgive me for the way I spoke to you, it was unprofessional and unbecoming of our profession. If I’m being honest, a complex case was just handed off to me as the last four doctors and their teams were incapable of coming to conclusions about it, from reading through everything about it, it seems to be in your realm of expertise, and I’d love to collaborate with you on it, even a joint partnership if you’d be willing. Attached is a file with some basic information about what I’m working with, please read through it at your earliest convenience. I eagerly await your reply.

Sincerely,

Doctor Shimizu Makoto

Her lavender orbs were scanning the text meticulously, reading through the email a solid six times before she gathered herself enough to click on the attachment, her head cocking to the side as she looked over the information, strands of white slipping free from the claw-clip her hair was still partially pulled up with. The woman could feel her heart practically breaking the more she read, children always pulled at her heartstrings and this one was hardly three, she bit into her lip in thought. She may not have been able to stand Shimizu, but personal feelings couldn’t be mingled with work, especially with the field they were in, saving lives was what was most important, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t try to help this little boy. She could overlook her distaste for the man long enough to help a child, he may have been a jerk, but he was good at what he did, just as great of a doctor as any that were in regular attendance to the conferences in Tokyo.

‘Be the bigger person, that’s what Gran would say.’

Yuki nodded to herself absentmindedly, mentally preparing herself for what was surely going to wind up being a few weeks, if not months of constant migraines since she’d be dealing with the last person that she wanted to put up with on a daily basis moving forward. Regardless, she typed out a pleasant response, accepting his apology and agreeing to work on the case with him, requesting that he send over copies of all the information relevant to it when he had a spare moment. She truly hoped she wouldn’t regret agreeing to this as she pressed the send button, all but signing herself up for an impending nightmare. She rubbed her temples slowly, scooting her chair back away from her desk and moved to her feet, she needed some coffee to get through the next few hours after something like that; she’d definitely been blindsided. She slipped out of her office, making her way down the hall towards the employee breakroom, quiet ticks of the clock and her footsteps cutting through the silence. She pushed open the door with ease, flicking the light on and stopped before the coffee brewer, pressing a button to turn on the machine. Filter, coffee grounds, water, quiet drips while it took forever to brew.

‘We need a new one.’

She’d been wanting to invest in a new brewer for her staff for a while, maybe she’d even get an expresso machine, she could use a good latte every now and then. She stood up on her toes, grabbing the closest mug she could reach and went about filling it up when the coffee was finally finished after a long nine minutes, she’d take the whole pot back to her office if it would remain warm, but instead, she’d be stuck making multiple trips throughout the night. The woman stepped out of the breakroom, her head turning when she noticed the yellow hue in the direction of the front entrance and let out a grumble, the lights were left on.

‘She probably thought I’d be leaving right after her.’ 

The electric bill had been outrageous this year, between the freezing winter and burning hot summer, she couldn’t catch a break, air running full blast or heat turned up; she bowed her head, strands of white partially obscuring her face as she began trudging her way towards the lobby of the clinic. She took a sip of her coffee as she moved behind the desk, flicking the lamp off and circled around towards the switch for the overhead lights, maybe investing in solar power wasn’t such a bad idea, the startup would be expensive, but it could save money in the long run.

‘Lots of businesses are going-’

Her finger paused hardly two centimeters away from the switch, freezing in place, her eyes as wide as saucers at the sound of the door.

‘Oh no.’

Oh no was right, Midori hadn’t locked up behind her because she’d been under the impression that she would be leaving minutes after her and as naïve as she wished she could be that her secretary had come back because she’d forgotten something, she knew that wasn’t in the realm of possibility. The loud slam had her almost jumping out of her skin, her heart pounding wildly at the click of the lock as she spun around to face-

‘…’

Her breath all but caught in her throat at what was before her, a dumbfounded look on her face as she returned the stare from across the room, aquamarine eyes zeroed in on her form. Yuki could feel just how high her adrenaline was climbing, fight or flight was making attempts to urge her to do something but not only was a gun pointed right at her, the owner of it looked as though he was seconds away from collapsing.

‘H-he’s been shot.’

Shot was an understatement, and it undeniably hadn’t been a single time, his white dress shirt was drenched in crimson red. She couldn’t tell how many times he’d been shot with the distance between them but enough that he’d lost a significant amount of blood, he was as white as a sheet and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that his body wasn’t in a good place, either he’d pass out or pass on.

‘He needs a blood transfusion.’

Whoever he was, he did need a blood transfusion, otherwise he certainly would leave this world before it was all said and done, he’d lost too much blood. He needed to be checked that none of those bullets were still in his body, that they hadn’t hit any major arteries or organs, fluids, stitches, the whole nine yards.

‘Blood type, I need to know his blood type.’

Getting the question out was the difficult part, her tongue was heavy, her mouth thick with spit, and she was already struggling enough to get air into her lungs since there was a gun pointed right at her, one wrong move and he’d shoot; whoever he was, he’d obviously been through something and was certainly not in a place where he was going to willingly trust anyone. She didn’t know how he’d managed to move with how much blood she assumed he’d lost, let alone run; his long rosy-pink locks were disheveled, beads of sweat on his brow, his chest heaving for breath, the hand holding the gun was trembling. Regardless of how bad of a state he was in, his expression wasn’t showing a sliver of fear, his aquamarine eyes were staring at her so intensely that he could’ve burnt holes straight through her with that alone, his lips pressed into a thin line.

‘Diamonds.’

It was a unique feature and paired with how high her emotions were running right now, she doubted she’d ever forget it, scars at both corners of his mouth in the shape of diamonds. She’d never imagined herself being in a situation close to this before and with the way things were looking, she wasn’t so sure that she’d make it through the next few minutes. He was ready to shoot her, and he would if he perceived her as being a threat to him, as nonthreatening as she was and appeared, that wouldn’t be enough to spare her a bullet, especially taking into consideration whatever he’d just been through. She wasn’t managing to force down the lump formed in the back of her throat so she could get words out, he was going to die from blood loss before the night was over if she couldn’t get her vocals cords to work. Most of Japan’s population was blood type A but taking a risk like that wasn’t worth it, not only could it cause life threatening reactions, but his life was already hanging in the balance to begin with. Her heart quite literally skipped a beat the moment she took a single step forward so she could better assess the damage, his finger immediately moving to the trigger, and she froze instantly; she was unsure how she was going to prove she didn’t mean him any harm.

‘Blood type, have to know his blood type.’

“I-I’m a doctor.” Yuki spoke, her voice anxious; she bit into her lip when his eyes narrowed dangerously, his expression the furthest thing from trusting, the gun still pointed right at her. “Y-you’ve lost too-too much blood. You ne-need a-a transfusion.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t say a word in response, but she was on some level, his life was hanging in the balance right now and anyone else would’ve been desperate to get assistance, would’ve been a babbling mess to the point of being the furthest thing from comprehendible. Yet, this man was holding nothing but composure, he was bleeding out and it still wasn’t enough for him to ask for help.

“I-I can help you.” She continued, trying to steady her words; if she were in his shoes, she wouldn’t want to trust someone that couldn’t even speak without stumbling over their words but then again, he was armed. “Y-you’re going to b-bleed out if…”

This stranger had been fully prepared to kill her, and it didn’t sink in nearly as fast as it should’ve, his finger squeezed the trigger the second she took another step towards him. Her stomach practically lurched no sooner did it register, her eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets, a quiet click breaking through the silence and had he not been out of bullets, she would’ve died just now. Her heart was pounding harder than it ever had, she’d never been more afraid in all her days but pulling her eyes from his was impossible, she was locked in the most intense staring contest of her life with someone that had just seconds prior tried to shoot her. The woman didn’t know what she was doing, why she hadn’t tried to run or get to her office so she could call the police, he’d broken into her clinic and tried to kill her so why was she trying so hard to help him?

‘Doctors save lives.’

Did he even want to be saved? She couldn’t be sure, the mistrustful expression on his face hadn’t faltered up until he’d tried to shoot her, dropping so subtly that she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been locked in this staring contest with him; he hadn’t expected to be out of bullets.

‘What can I do that would…’

Her eyes went wide all over again when the gun slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor and his legs buckled, she watched in what was practically slow motion as he fell, not even attempting to catch himself as he collapsed onto his stomach; the blood loss had finally gotten to him. Her coffee mug slipped from her fingers, and she bolted, not even registering the sound of the china breaking apart upon impact as she dropped to her knees beside him.

“What’s your blood type?!” she pressed, her voice frantic; she didn’t have the time to test for something like that right now, every second counted. “I can save you, what’s your blood type?!”

He was still conscious, and she had to get an answer out of him before the worst happened, his head had turned towards her no sooner had she made it to his side, the mistrustful look in his eyes nonexistent as he struggled to keep himself from passing out. He wouldn’t manage much longer, willpower could only do so much and if he was as stubborn as she thought he was, he was the type that would refuse to die, if he wanted to live then he’d tell her something.

“Shit, fuck, shit.” She rambled; she wasn’t much for swearing but her composure was hanging by a thread, only threatening to unravel when she grabbed his wrist to check his pulse.

‘No, no, no!’

“What’s your fucking blood type?! Tell me!” Yuki demanded, her expression the furthest thing from her normal; her soft face was contorted into a glare as she stared back at him, aquamarine and lavender locked. “I don’t give a shit if you don’t want my help, you’re not dying in my clinic, I won’t let you! So, tell me what your blood type is!”

The white-headed woman had never spoken to a patient in that way before, but she didn’t feel the least bit guilty, he was being stubborn and if yelling at him was the only way to force him into telling her what she needed to know then she didn’t have much of a choice. She’d never met someone so obstinate; he hadn’t spoken a single word to her in the time that they’d been in each other’s presence, and it wasn’t looking like he was going to be able to. She’d run out of time, she was losing him, the far-off look in his eyes told her as much, his body had tensed up the moment she grabbed his wrist but now it was lessening, he was about to pass out and if he did before she knew what his blood type was, it was guaranteed he wouldn’t wake back up.

“Damn it, stop being a stubborn fuck and tell me!” she exclaimed, her tone uncharacteristically heated. “Let me save you, what’s your blood type?”

Her chest was heaving with short breathes and she was doing her utmost best to hold onto whatever bit of composure she still possessed, he wasn’t making this easy for her, he wouldn’t tell her anything; she’d become a doctor to save lives but how in the fuck was she supposed to save someone that didn’t want to be- 

“AB.”

Her eyes went wide in shock, he’d just barely gotten the two letters out before falling unconscious and had it not been so quiet a pin-drop could be heard, she never would’ve heard his voice.

‘AB.’

The rarest blood type for a person living in Japan and he’d passed out before she could press if it was positive or negative, AB positive was the universal recipient, but AB negative could only receive from negative blood types. The only thing she could do was find all the negative blood types she had in stock, regardless of if he was positive or negative, she had what she needed.

‘Have to hurry.’

“Don’t worry, I’m going to save you.”

[t0wardthesun]

My Body and Me; a Love Story.

There was a time when I thought I would never write this post. The battle against my body seemed to be the one mountain I would never climb. I would go around in circles, coming up against the same obstacles; bingeing, emotional eating, restrictive dieting and hating what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I honestly thought it was something I would struggle with for the rest of my life. I think every woman knows this journey, some have walked the path before, others are waiting to begin - each of us up against years of conditioning, programming and subconscious messaging designed to keep us small (literally). This is the story of how I took my power back, went from self loathing to self love and healed my relationship with food and my body.

It’s Australia Day, 2008. My sister and I are riding our bikes around the small town we grew up in, jumping in and out of the crystal clear water wherever we can find the space. The path along the creek is teeming with families and kids our age walking around drinking UDL’s and cans of Smirnoff. Despite already being self conscious about my fifteen year old body, I’m feeling particularly brave wearing just a pair of shorts and my bikini top.

As we climb out of the water and mount our bikes to head home, a guy a few years older than me walks passed with his girlfriend. He looks me up and down and slurs, “Yeah, keep riding,” with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend slaps him playfully, looking back over her shoulder to mouth an apology, but it’s too late. My stomach drops, my world crumbles. Everything I ever feared about myself is true. I'm not attractive, I'm not desirable, I’m not worthy and I’m not enough.

I scroll pro-ana blogs and experiment to see how long I can go without food. I practice putting two fingers down my throat, trying to dredge up the shame I swallowed with that second chocolate brownie. I lament to my mother about the size and softness of my stomach, she shows me which ab exercises reduce belly fat.

My breasts grow almost overnight and suddenly I’m the subject of gossip and the butt of jokes. Relatives and strangers comment on my changing shape, as though my body is public domain to be deliberated. I learn that my body is not my own. I walk into the kitchen after dinner out with friends, “You can’t possibly still be hungry.” I learn that my bodies signals can’t be trusted.

I hold myself up against billboards and pictures on the internet and they all tell me one thing; shrink. Shrink and you will be beautiful, and before anything else, beautiful is what you should aspire to be. I stand in front of the mirror and pinch, suck, poke and prod. I squeeze a tape measure around every inch of skin, using the numbers to define how much I’m worth that week. I hide in the pantry, looking for something to fill me. My mind blanks as I reach for packets and jars, a brief reprieve before the guilt kicks in and I berate myself ceaselessly for a lack of self control.

I’m desperate to be noticed. I crave being seen. I take photos on my phone and send them to boys. When I’m drowning in a sea of insecurity, their shallow compliments keep me afloat.

I grew up believing that “big” was the worst thing a person could be. Worse than being mean, selfish or boring, it was the ultimate failure. The subconscious messaging I received was that being skinny was synonymous with being happy. That having the perfect body somehow made you immune to sadness or other negative emotions. Like, how bad could things possibly get if you looked amazing in a bikini? If you were thin then people paid attention to you; boys wanted to be with you and other girls wanted to be like you. To be thin, was to be beautiful - and to be beautiful was to be adored, cherished, loved. Life was an endless exodus away from fatness and toward thinness.

You can imagine the war that started internally when my e-cup boobs came in overnight. Dance costumes had to be altered, bras and bikinis had to be special ordered and I was constantly asking for a bigger size in change rooms. The changes in my body sparked a downward spiral in my self esteem. In my mind, with every kilo I gained I was becoming less important; my ideas less valid, personality less loveable and my dreams less achievable.

By the time I was sixteen, my body was a tool I used to validate my dwindling sense of self worth. I used it when it suited me, to get attention and validation from guys. The more I was willing to show of it and the more I was willing to do with it, the more approval I got. It made me feel powerful. I traded recognition for respect and mistook attention for love. The rest of the time I either berated it with criticism or ignored it completely.

For most of my teens and early twenties, I felt like a floating head walking around completely disconnected from my body. I didn’t identify as my body, it felt like an annoying attachment that kept betraying me by not doing what I wanted it to do or looking the way I wanted it to look. I hated how easily I could be brought down or carried away by the emotions that arose inside me; a wave of insecurity that would leave me hiding under the covers for days, a flash of anger that always left a wake of destruction in its path. It was too risky and far too painful living in my body, so I checked out. For almost a decade, I didn’t look down in the shower and I couldn’t touch my stomach without a wave of nausea flooding through me. I dreaded walking past mirrors or shop fronts and I used to yell at my mum for taking photos of me when I wasn’t looking.

By the time I left home at eighteen, it became apparent that in addition to my negative body image, I had also developed a pretty damaging relationship with food. Food was my anchor and my security blanket. When everything else in my life was uncertain, I could always count on the jar of peanut butter in the fridge. I would use food to suppress negative emotions; discomfort, anxiety, boredom. Even positive emotions - excitement, joy, happiness - were always accompanied by something to eat. It was as though I couldn’t bare to feel anything fully, so I sought a way to dull the experience.

I would spend hours researching different diets and exercise programs, getting confused and overwhelmed by the mass of conflicting information. Was yoghurt good for me, or bad? Should I be eating carbs with every meal or cut them out altogether? Should I be vegetarian, vegan, paleo or #sugarfree? Is running 5k’s burning fat or telling my body to hold on? I would walk around the grocery store with tears in my eyes, totally overwhelmed by all the choices and torn between what I wanted so desperately and what I thought I should be eating.

“Compulsive eating is basically a refusal to be fully alive. No matter what we weigh, those of us who are compulsive eaters have anorexia of the soul. We refuse to take in what sustains us. We live lives of deprivation, and when we can't stand it any longer, we binge.”

- Geneen Roth, Women, Food and God

Before I even knew what it was, bingeing was a regular part of my life. If had a bad day, a fight with my parents or an assignment due, bingeing offered an incredibly effective distraction. There was no thought or awareness, I would stand at the fridge and put whatever was on the shelf into my mouth. Because I refused to have anything unhealthy in the house, bingeing usually meant raiding my housemates cupboards for whatever had the highest sugar or fat content; four slices of toast with tablespoons of honey, two wraps, half a packet of biscuits and coconut oil straight from the jar. It wasn’t until after I had consumed the entire contents of my kitchen that the guilt kicked in. I felt totally helpless and completely out of control.

The promise of a diet is not only that you will have a different body; it is that in having a different body, you will have a different life. 

In 2013, I lost nine kilos leading up to my twenty first birthday. I was eating broccoli with chicken or tinned tuna for every almost meal and smashing myself in the gym 5-7 times a week. Everything in my life revolved around getting the numbers on the scale to drop. I kept a food diary on my phone and wrote down everything that passed my lips and at the end of the day I’d give myself a rating based on how ‘well’ I’d done. A smiley face meant it was a good day, an angry face meant I better try harder tomorrow.

I would measure and weigh myself in the morning and my mood for the entire day, and how I treated myself, depended on what I saw on the scale. I was obsessed with #fitspo blogs and instagram accounts and would spend hours drooling over photos of girls lifting weights or posing effortlessly in bikinis. I would deprive myself all week and have a ‘cheat day’ on the week end, which usually meant buying a block of chocolate on the way home from the gym and making myself sick by finishing off the whole thing in one sitting. A few weeks before my birthday I started taking OxyElite and would happily pop four a day - made me shake and pee constantly - completely ignoring the liver failure warning on the label.

But even when I was at my skinniest, my anxiety didn’t fade and I wasn’t any happier. I still had bad days and moments when I felt unworthy and insecure, and I was so preoccupied maintaining my new weight, I didn’t have time to focus on anything else or enjoy my life. As soon as my birthday was over and I didn’t have a goal to work towards, the weight came back and the battle raged on.

As I watched women my mums age berate themselves for eating an extra slice of cake, apologise for taking up too much space and obsess over their physical ‘flaws’, I started to think maybe this was just part of life as a woman. I hated the idea of passing my insecurities on to my future daughter, but I couldn’t see a way to break the cycle.

So I started working with coaches, and read and listened to every intuitive eating, eating psychology and body positive book, blog post and podcast I could get my hands on. There wasn’t one pivotal moment, but a series of small but deeply significant revelations that helped me improve my relationship with food and lead me back to my physical body…

1. I got angry.

When I discovered the extent to which mainstream media tries to keep us small - literally - as a form of disempowerment, I got angry. By making thinness the ideal and celebrating women who shrink, we get the message that we are not allowed to take up space, a subconscious belief that ingrains itself in our collective psyche. It’s the same belief that stops us from speaking up when we are being taken advantage of, it stops us demanding more from partners who mistreat us, and it stops us creating epic shit and sharing our unique gifts with the world.

As I continued pulling back the veil to expose the corporate agenda behind our BS beauty standards, it got easier to rally against my own inner critic because I knew they were both just trying to stop me wielding the full force of my power as a conscious woman. A woman confident in her own skin is no longer an obedient consumer, she no longer drains her time, energy and resources trying to “fix herself”. She shows up fully as her authentic self. She is a force to be reckoned with.

2. I focused on my strengths.

That insta-famous bikini model posting photos of herself looking toned and tanned in various exotic locations? Yes, she could have done a lot of editing/had surgery/spend thousands on a celebrity trainer, but you know what? Some girls really look like that - and that’s amazing! Go them! You have your own set of unique gifts and God-given talents that are exactly what you need to enact your purpose on this earth, and they might not have anything to do with how you look. Say it with me now, “I was not born to be an instagram model.” (Unless you were, then carry on your merry way). Being trapped in jealousy or comparison usually means we aren’t fully embracing our Genius. Ask yourself, ‘What am I really good at? What do I LOVE?’ then go do that.

BODY IMAGE CHALLENGE: Take a look at the people you follow on social media. Do they make you feel more confident, or less? If you feel ‘icky’ every time you scroll through instagram, it might be time to do a social media cleanse and get rid of any accounts that don’t inspire you to feel good about yourself.

3. I shifted my perspective from the external to the internal.

My journey this year has been letting go of the belief that people will only listen to what I have to say if they like the package it comes in. As women, we are taught from such a young age that beauty equals success, and for so long I was hung up on this idea that in order for my thoughts, opinions or ideas to be taken seriously, I would need to measure up to societies standards of beauty. That belief kept me from showing up fully in my business and in my life. Bullshit!

How many of us are held back from the work we are meant to do and the joy we are meant to experience because of our obsession with living up to someone else’s idea of beauty? How many of us delay happiness and postpone joy, waiting until after we’ve lost the weight or dropped a dress size, to be active participants in sucking the marrow out of our lives?  

These days, I’m focusing less on impressing people with my looks and more on empowering them with my energy. I realised I would so much rather invest my time cultivating compassion, sharpening my intellect and developing the kind of inner radiance that inspires people than forcing my body to take on a shape that isn’t natural for me.

I get that some people absolutely love pushing their body to see how far it can go, but when I think about how much effort it took to maintain my ‘goal weight’, I can honestly say - for me, and my standards - it’s just not worth it. As with anything in life, you have to ask yourself, do you want it because that’s the experience your Soul is longing to have, or because everyone tells you that’s what you should want? Is it your dream or someone else’s?

BODY IMAGE CHALLENGE: Start a creative project that you can work on in your spare time. It could be a collection of short stories, a sketch pad full of drawings or a line of your own handmade clutches. Passion projects are good for the soul and you never know where they might lead ;) 

4. I let go of my obsession with losing weight.

After nearly a decade of trying to get smaller, the thought of giving up scared the shit out of me. I clung to diets because they gave me a purpose, losing weight made me feel accomplished. It was easier to write a meal plan than it was to map out a plan for my future. And it was easier trying to change my body than it was to change the world.

I also thought that if I wasn’t following a strict eating and exercise ‘plan’, I would completely lose control and binge until I was the size of a house. And for a while, I did go a little crazy. I had to rebuild the trust between me and my body. I needed to prove that I was sticking to my word this time and I wasn’t going to deprive it any more.

But when I stopped labelling foods as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and started giving myself unconditional permission to eat whatever I wanted, eating an entire block of chocolate lost its appeal. I could have it, so I didn’t want it. If I did end up over eating, I quickly forgave myself and moved on. No judgement, criticism or shame, just unconditional acceptance. I quickly learnt that most of the time I didn’t actually want the chocolate, I wanted the way it made me feel; worthy, deserving, full.

Instead of using food to suppress my emotions, I wanted to tap into my bodies natural wisdom. I started by opening up the lines of communication. I wrote her letters in my journal, apologising for all the times I had ignored her, made her sick and used her to satisfy my ego desires. I promised to take care of her, trust her and always ask her what she needed. I spoke to her like I would my best friend or little sister. Much to my delight, she started talking back.

I’m sorry.

I know.

I love you.

I love you too.

Today, my relationship with my body feels like rekindling a romance with a long lost lover; we’re both still marvelling at all the things we can do together, getting excited about what this means for our future and falling more in love with each other every day. Like any great relationship, ours is based on trust, communication and mutual respect. I speak kind words to my body, I don’t make her do things she doesn’t want to do, and I trust that she knows what she needs in any given moment. Sometimes that means making a big fat pasta dish, sometimes it means stopping when there’s still food left on the plate. I still apologise if I drink too much wine and wake up with a hangover. She forgives me and we go and do something to make us feel amazing again.

Exercise doesn’t feel like a chore, it’s a way to expend all the beautiful energy that runs through my body. I don’t slog it out at the gym to burn calories or punish myself for overeating, I move in ways that feel good. Lifting weights makes me feel powerful, dancing makes me feel sexy as hell. My body is an incredible vehicle I have been given to fully engage in this earthly experience, and I love it regardless of its shape or size.

I know this is an ongoing process - as my body changes, I will need to continue practicing self love and some times are going to be harder than others, but never again will I let insecurity hold me back (for too long). 

The beauty standards set by society will continue to change, but I reserve the right to decide what’s beautiful to me, and my definition of beauty is all encompassing - there is room for everyone. I am so excited to see - in our lifetime - a generation of women liberated from the shackles of self loathing, free to share their unique gifts with the world and I am so grateful for the women before me who have publicly embraced their bodies at every size.

Wherever you are on the journey, may these words guide your way home.

Do not be afraid to take up space. Consciously expand until your presence rivals galaxies. Should your body say anything about Who You Are, let it say nothing of willpower or self-control, let it tell the story of your curiosity, your bravery, your compassion. Should you seek to be less of anything, may you be less worried about making yourself look acceptable.

May the only picture of your progress be the feeling of expansion in your Spirit. When you go looking for validation or your sense of Self, may you go only to the Source of all Love that lives inside of you. 

May you appreciate your body as the temporary home your soul chose to inhabit. May you honor her sovereignty and listen to her wisdom. May you praise her in public and pleasure her in private.

When you look at your body may you see our mother earth incarnate; in every crevice and fault line, in the veins that run like rivers, in all the mountains and valleys that ripple across your skin. 

And when the time comes for you to leave, may it be with gratitude as the veil is lifted and the joy of returning to the infinite oneness from which you came... can no longer be contained.

Jae x

If you are looking for more on this topic, check out the recommended resources below. I also run a weekly circle called ‘Love the Skin You’re In’ and I’d love to have you along. (If you’re based in SE Qld / Northern NSW, check it out here > https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/love-the-skin-youre-in-tickets-626697347637)

Recommended Resources

Embrace the documentary - https://bodyimagemovement.com/embrace-the-documentary/

The Well-Fed Woman - www.rachelwcole.com/blog

Poodle Science - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H89QQfXtc-k

I Didn’t Wake up Like this - https://www.buzzfeed.com/sonamkapoor/i-didnt-wake-up-like-this?utm_term=.clmdDBLaw#.kboeY8g6O

10 Principles of Intuitive Eating - http://www.intuitiveeating.com/content/10-principles-intuitive-eating

Psychology of Eating Podcast - http://psychologyofeating.com/podcasts/

Lauren Beckett, Body Love Coach - http://dropthestruggle.com/

[windupiceheart]

ffxivwrite #15: row

I’m literally just doing 1

"Snap back to reality Oh, there goes gravity" - eminem It was the smell. It hit his nose the moment he stepped foot in the area, the subtle smell of rust that had been frozen over for how long. He didn’t know. It hurt his nose so he held his breath.

It was the sight. The stark contrast between the dark dark red and bright bright white. It hurt his eyes so he stopped looking. It was the sound. He called out to the quiet… but no one responded. The deafening silence. It hurt his ears so he started to hum. It was the feeling. His hand reached down and grabbed it. The previously soft fur, stiff and frozen. The dark blue, like his. He ran his fingers through it, the familiarity of it hurt. He had to assume it was her. It hurt his heart so he cried. It was the feeling. “Rios?” The sound echoed through his whole body. “Rios is that you?” The grip he had on the severed tail in his hands tightened. He hadn’t been called that name in years, he almost forgot it was his. “Don’t tell me it’s been so long you don’t remember my voice.” “Rhasa?” He croaked. He turned around and saw her. How long has it been. “Rhasa, you’re alive?” He didn’t have to start crying, he already was and continued as he desperately held on to her. “Rhasa, what happened?” she stiffened. “What happened to everyone?” Her eyebrows furrowed. “They finally did it. The army stepped over the line and we fought.” Oh. “We fought better.” He knew this. “But it wasn’t enough.” He let go. It wasn’t enough. Something about that rang in his ears. It was an aha! moment. Father, it didn’t matter anyways. All the intense training that made me fall and fall and fall, it was for nothing, serves you right. But his father was dead. Why, “why wasn’t it enough?” She shook her head, slowly, remembering. “We were winning the fight, and then we weren’t.” she stared out to the snowy field next to them. “Nobody won, at some point something happened and people started to collapse one by one. It was too fast. I fled before it took me too.” “I’m glad you’re alive,  at least.”   She smiled, her brows still knitted together. “You know Rios” Her smile fell. “sometimes I would think back to when you left. And I’m glad you did, I really am, but I’m also angry you did.” … “You left us. You left me.” The distance between them grew. “I had to cover for you when you left Rios.” And it grew. “Rios you know how rough it is here. And then you left and I was alone.” … “I-“ “And for what. This? What are you even doing now?” She gestured to him. His brightly colour metallic clothing. What Was he wearing, why was he wearing that again? “Playing around while we were struggling to survive?” Playing around? She didn’t understand, he couldn’t have stayed here, he couldn’t. “It was so hard Rios!” She grabbed his hat, the silly hat with the heart shaped pom, and threw it on the ground. He didn’t do anything but watch. “Everyone is dead, Rios. Mother… Father… our sisters… they’re all gone.” The rasp of her voice as she was forced to acknowledge this. He turned to where she was staring. Mounds of snow lined next to each other, each a small flower on top. … “Why aren’t you saying anything, you always have something to say. Say something. Say Something!” He tried. He tried so hard. The words stuck in his throat. Her eyes reminded him of their father’s, the intense blue. … “I don’t know.” He didn’t know. “Our family is .. dead?” His family was dead. The family he so desperately buried in the back of his mind and spent his life running from was gone. “You never came back. Why are you here now, Rios.” Rios. Rios, that was his name. Not B’ig. “They’re dead?” They’re dead. No they couldn’t be, he still remembered he father’s hand on his head when his father told him he would be, had to be, the tribe’s nunh when he was older. He still remembered his mother’s song she sung on the coldest of nights, how her voice pierced through the wind. And his sister was right in front of him. How could they be dead? “They’re gone.” She clenched her fists. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.  I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. “How can you be sorry, you weren’t even here!” “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “You left us and now I’m alone!” “I’m sorry!” A punch across his face threw him across the ground. The impact left an aching throb on his cheek, but he could only think about how cold her hand was. So, so cold. He left her there. He left them all there. “You should go,” she said, her hands hung loose by her sides. He’ll leave her again. It was the feeling. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave.” He pick up his hat and got up. “It was nice to see you Rhasa.” He could feel her stare on his back so he kept walking until it was gone.

[acabang]

Got no place else to post this, this page is effectively dormant and will go unnoticed so in a weird way I’m less anxious about sharing it. I just want to get it out somewhere for posterity.

I've never really talked about this with anyone but at the start of December 2021, literally the midnight after my older brother's birthday, I got hospitalized for about a month. I started feeling extreme back pain that I thought I could just sleep off but regardless of the position I tried, it felt like my chest was caving in. Which restricted my breathing, of course, then led to an elevated heartrate. Something that panicked me enough to believe I was having a heart attack. Not the inability to breath but the potential heart attack was what scared me. I don't know how much time had passed between when it first started and when I actually decided to call it in but in that time, I was just looking up whether I was actually having a heart attack or not.

In a relatively packed emergency room, one of the darkest well-lit rooms I've ever been in which was confusing, I was being isolated. This was all happening around the time when the Omicron variant was really starting to spread so they were taking some precautions. I tried to stay calm as best I could but I was essentially suffocating in a sectioned off room within emergency, full of other patients yelling for nurses overnight. I tried to be friendly with one of the nurses who was just getting it from one of the other patients, she told me she regularly dealt with drunks or people that were high so it didn't bother them that some older man was being annoying about wanting a room before everyone else.

They eventually get me to the hospital proper, isolated again, this time asking if I had tuberculosis. It wasn't until later, after they determined I didn't have it, that they were really only asking me about it and whether I've traveled recently 'cuz I'm Asian. I thought it was funny, I moved here when I was 4 and the only time I left was to visit family in LA when I was 5. I was stable enough but still having issues breathing, requiring the need for an oxygen machine that seemed to be set pretty high. They did enough tests to determine I needed surgery. I was getting tested pretty much my entire time I was there so I didn't have any opportunity to eat or anything, by the time I was back in my room and when I should've gotten something to eat I was told I couldn't 'cuz I was going to surgery "soon". It wasn't soon.

I wake up in the ICU, all wired up, a tube down my throat, with more tubes coming out of my chest attached to a pump and they tell me I had necrotizing pneumonia. I guess enough liquid had seeped through my lung, causing my breathing to be restricted so they had to drain it out and put me on antibiotics so the holes in my lung could heal up, I think. Bedridden, unable to really move 'cuz of the tubes attached to my body, with nothing to distract my mind and not being able to receive visitors 'cuz of Omicron- I've always been a loner but that experience broke me a couple times over the course of the next couple of weeks. I was pretty much one of the only patients that was conscious in the ICU, it seemed like, so one of the nurses interacted with me quite regularly, more than the others who usually just came in for check ups, tests then leave. They would talk to me about their family, some who even worked in the same hospital, their own surgery they had a while back, their work abroad, even tried to convince me to join them at the hospital after I healed up, joking about how we could continue the Filipino nurse stereotype.

After determining I was healthy enough, and with the lack of space within the ICU, I eventually get moved to the hospital proper again. I get moved into a room with another patient who was already there, the nurses told me they pretty much slept all day. Their older daughter visited, I'd hear them pray and she would sing to him to help them remember. They died a few nights later. I woke up to them sounding like they were drowning and a bunch of nurses attending to them.

I was told by the doctors that I've pretty much healed up, I still had a lot of liquid constricting the lung but enough had been pumped out that it was safe to be released soon. I wanted out of there as soon as possible but was convinced to have the surgery again to drain out the rest of the fluid.

I wake up, not in ICU this time but waiting to be transferred to a new room, my heart feeling like it was prior to being hospitalized and funnily talking to the nurse seemingly delirious after having just gotten out of surgery. I get moved to my new room, new roommate, had to be pumped with painkillers this time. The first surgery for some reason I didn't have much issues with, maybe I had already been being pumped with painkillers by the time I woke up in ICU, and this was because I came out straight from surgery, I don't know. Nurses noticed I wasn't eating properly after the surgery, I didn't have an appetite, on top of the food not really being great. Also I would hear my new roommate constantly vomiting whenever we were supposed to eat, which may have contributed to me not having an appetite. They would get violent with the nurses whenever they needed to do blood tests on them. That roommate also died a few nights later.

One of the nurses recognized how severely depressed I was and offered some counseling from one of their experts. I accepted at first, they suggested I try out some meds, maybe join them for group therapy but I eventually opted out. Probably a mistake. Physically, they finally determined enough, or all, the liquid had been drained out of me and my surgeon came late at night to check on me and decided on the spot they would remove the tubes and pump essentially anchoring me down for pretty much the past three weeks. Though still obviously recovering from surgery wounds I was relieved that I could finally move around. That first night without the tubes attached, I woke up to the side of my bed completely soaked with leftover liquid and blood that seeped out. The rest of my stay at the hospital was mostly physical therapy, being bedridden for most of it, I had to basically get used to walking around again.

It's been around eight months since all this happened, I'm technically "recovered". That was really my first time ever getting hospitalized, I try not to think about what I went through but at least once a day some part of that experience will flash in my brain. Especially on days when it feels like I still have the tubes & pump attached to my lung. I still have trouble sleeping in any other position but directly facing up, I used to be more of a side sleeper. My scars don't hurt but the area around it constantly feels numb. All this shit running through my head, every day for the past eight months.

More than recalling all of that, I think about how I considered not calling it in. I don't know if I've developed some hypochondriac paranoia because of what I went through but I'm starting to feel like I'm having trouble breathing again. Not like my chest is caving in like the first time but I'm breathing deeper to the point of actually noticing myself do it. And if it turns out to be something legitimate again, I've found myself wondering if maybe this time I won't call it in and just let myself suffocate alone just to avoid going through that entire ordeal again. I've always had issues with my mental health, ever since I was in high school, it never occurred to me that my physical health deteriorating would destroy it even further. I’ve been brought down low many times before but these days have felt the lowest...

We'll move on or we won't, that's still to be determined. Shit's tough.