‧⁺˖✧ you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves
✧ about me nineteen liberal wired headphones diet coke long walks music deers pacific northwest katseye beach house Taylor Russell lover dc marvel latina
✧ i will only write for things that are comfortable to me
✧ if you are rude you will be blocked, i am still a person and i have a life outside of tumblr
ʜɪʟᴍᴀ ᴀғ ᴋʟɪɴᴛ The Ten Largest. 1907. Each piece is tempera on paper (later glued to canvas): 328 × 240 cm (129 × 94 in). The paintings depict ten stages of human life: Nos. 1 & 2/Childhood; Nos. 3 & 4/Youth; Nos. 5-8/Adulthood; Nos. 9 & 10/Old Age. Klint created all ten paintings in 40 days.
⋆˙⟡ summary: Emma can picture herself praying to them, worshiping them. She would have too; he's the one making sure she doesn't die on his table.
Emma's new, Brendon's not. He should know better
⟢ notes: Older Man/Younger Woman, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Masturbation, Medical Inaccuracies, doe-eyed emma
⟢ word count: 1,857 | read on ao3
Emma's mom always told her that she was a bundle of nerves. That one day, she was going to pop. Emma, on the other hand, never liked to think about herself like that. That one day she would lose it – or as her mom likes to put it, “she’s going to pop.” It's easier for her to just push it all down, pretend that everything is calm, and that she has everything under control.
Even when she doesn't. Especially when she doesn't.
It's been a couple of weeks now since Emma came to the Pitt, and she's starting to get everything under control. Just follow Dana's rules, and everything will be under control.
And she has been able to keep things under control in these past few weeks. Except for that first day when that crazy drunk attacked her, nothing has happened that she can't handle. Even though every day it’s always different, it’s always where she wants to be.
It’s a slower day, but she doesn’t say it out loud, afraid of jinxing it. She just keeps it close to her heart as she and Dana talk about a new update that’s going to happen to the computers in a few days. That’s when she looks up and sees Shark, well, Dr. Park, but that’s just what everybody calls him.
Almost everyone.
He’s in step with Garcia, probably talking about the young man who just came in with the leg that had gotten fractured in three different spots and had a rod that got lodged right in his knee. He’s going to take it, though; he usually only does clean cuts. He’ll take it – she can make his mouth make words.
Dr. Park looks over at Emma at the nursing station, and for a brief moment, they make eye contact. He takes a draw of her, like she's a cigarette and he's inhaling her in. But he looks away just as quickly as it happened.
Emma feels her cheeks getting red with heat and looks down at her hands, and can see that she has been picking at them unconsciously, leaving her thumb with a cut on it. It's all a big rush for her.
“Shit,” she says, as she goes to get a tissue to stop the bleeding and not wanting it to get on her scrubs.
She feels Dana come over to her and say, “Jez kid, what happened to you?” and she pulls out a bandaid from her pocket and hands it over to Emma, “take care of that.”
“Yeah, thanks, I just picked at a hang nail,” she remarks, turning her head to see if Dr. Park was still there. And of course he's not, because why would he be? Dana notices.
“Don’t even think about it,” Dana states to Emma as she goes back to her desk area.
“Don't what?” Emma says and moves into the open chair next to her boss. Dana gives her a face that Emma knows all too well, the "Don't be an idiot" one. Emma just hasn't been on the receiving end of it, and she doesn’t like it.
“I know that look. The look of being enamored with the doctors. I'm not going to let that happen to you.” Dana tells her simply.
Sometimes Dana feels like the grandma Emma never had, being a guiding hand on what to do and what not to do. Sometimes it doesn't feel like that.
“I am not enamored,” Emma says incoenly, “I'm just getting to know people here. You know I'm still new here.” And it's true, she doesn't know everybody and would want to get to know everybody. She's always liked trying new things.
“Yeah, and that's why I'm telling you that. Because you are new and young, you can't afford to make mistakes. And anyway, he's not very nice, standoffish, doesn’t talk to anybody unless he has to, and keeps to himself. Also, too old for you,” Dana states as if she knows the secret to the universe, which is probably true.
“I'm not even that young, and I don't even know him,” Emma mumbles to herself. She can feel that her cheeks have even gotten warm from the conversation.
“Good, and it will stay that way. He knows better,” Dana says, officially ending the conversation, moving to the patient who just came into the ED.
Days later, after a long and exhausting day, with the heat sticking to her, Emma is ready to head to her apartment and take a nice, long, cold shower. She already has her headphones on, looking at her phone to see what homework she has to do tonight for school, and the elevator is about to close, when somebody sticks their hand in the gap.
The elevator moves out to make room for him, and she looks up to see that it's Dr. Shark-Park, she corrects to herself.
He moves into the elevator, and they make eye contact, and Emma feels the familiar flush of heat rushing into her cheeks. She turns to make room for him and looks down at the floor. This time, instead of being in his normal purple scrubs, he's now in jeans and an old Radiohead t-shirt that looks like it has lots of love.
She sees out of the corner of her eye that Park goes to press the level he wants to go to and notices how his fingers are. They are long, thick, and veiny. Perfect for pulling and inspecting the lower regions of the human body, and perfect for being able to put all back together.
When Emma was younger, her older brother, Michael, played them for her for the first time. It was during a winter storm, and she had grown tired of reading and was extremely bored, and that was the first time she felt herself falling in love with something that wasn't her family. Michael was always the one to introduce her to her favorite music; it’s one of the only things that brings them together, as he loves sports – just like the rest of her brothers – while she doesn’t.
It was harder for them to bond because he's four years older than she, and by the time she was old enough to hang out with him, Michael was already gone and playing hockey at the University of Michigan. His showing her his favorite music was as if he was letting her into a secret club, one in which all her brothers were already in.
Emma and Park are both standing in the silence, and before Emma has even processed what she's doing, the words are already coming out of her mouth. “I love Radiohead, Fake Plastic Trees is my favorite.”
Emma cringes as she realizes that she said that out loud. She's just about to say never mind, to try and push the words back into her mouth, when she hears him say back, “Yeah, that's a good one, it's a classic.”
She looks over at him and sees that he's looking back down at her. His hair is all out of place, probably from running his hands through it all day long. Emma looks back down at his hands and sees that they're nice hands. Perfect for holding a scalpel while cutting into skin.
Emma shakes the thought from her head, preferring not to think about him in that way.
She's about to say something again, but the elevator dings open and she hurries herself out of there and on to the parking garage before she makes herself cringe again. She looks over her shoulder to get another look at him, but the doors to the elevator have already closed.
Usually Emma has no problem falling asleep after a long, hard day at the Pitt, but tonight it's different. The August heat is making it even more uncomfortable to find a good spot that's cold. The Pittsburgh heat is so much different than back home in Michigan, where it never seems to get hot.
But that's not the only reason she can't fall asleep.
Emma also can’t stop thinking about Dr. Park's fingers. She can’t get them out of her head. Emma can’t help but imagine them, imagining them being lodged inside of her, how they would feel on her, what they would do to her. She thinks about him cutting her open and feeling around in her.
Finding her being.
Emma imagines herself being the one on his table, and him going through her. She can feel the harsh lightning of the operating room on her, can feel the scalpel working its way into her. Emma can picture herself praying to them, worshiping them. She would have too; he's the one making sure she doesn't die on his table.
She feels heat in her stomach, but it's not from the weather. She is aching, and she knows what's happening – she's a nurse, of course, she knows what's going on – but it still doesn't make it less unbearable.
Emma sinks a hand below her sleep shorts and underwear, and can feel the wetness that is seeping out of her. She starts to rub her fingers up and down her core. It's difficult for her to imagine that it's Dr. Park’s fingers instead of hers that're running up and down her. His are nice, long, and bigger than hers, but that doesn’t stop her from thinking about him.
She thinks about him putting them inside of her, looking inside of her core. She can imagine that he'd know what he's doing; he's properly fingered many women before. Who wouldn’t want to get fingered by him? She puts a finger inside her, but it's not big enough, so she puts another. That's when she hits the spot inside of her that makes her see stars.
Emma can feel herself getting wetter, and she will probably have to change her underwear and pants later, but right now all she wants is to reach her high. Her nipples are rubbing against her t-shirt, and she brings her other hand to touch them. The sounds that are coming out of her sound almost pornographic; it doesn’t sound like her. All she hopes is that her roommates can’t hear her.
She just wants him.
After she reaches her peak, she's trying to catch her breath. She feels like Pheidippides after he ran to Marathon, as if she will die after getting her high.
She feels like a freak. She barely even knows that guy, and yet here she is masturbating to him in a t-shirt that she used to wear as a teenager. For all she knows, he could be married, with kids and a dog, and his wife who drives a Range Rover. Because that's what adults do, they have families and pay mortgages, they don't want a twenty-two-year-old girl.
Emma groans into her pillow. She's never been like this for a guy – man, she says. Her last boyfriend was a nice and kind guy; he played soccer, and they were friends before they started dating. She was never like this with him. She’s never been like this with anyone before.
sorry i've been gone for so long lol, hope you all like this
