#Cross-Device Testing

[gqattech]

The Importance of Mobile Testing Services for Flawless App Performance

In the current digital age, mobile applications have become a vital factor in ensuring businesses' success, user engagement, and customer experience. With millions of apps in app stores competing for the user’s attention, making sure that your app works well everywhere, and on different devices, operating systems, and network conditions, is of utmost importance. Mobile testing services can do just that. Employing testing services can ensure that your app has the best user experience, meets quality standards in the industry, and stands out in an already competitive market. In the following blog, we will describe the benefits of mobile testing services, the value and importance of these services, and why companies like GQATTech can help improve your app performance.

Why Mobile Testing Services Are Essential

Mobile apps are available in many different locations and on many user devices, from inexpensive phones to high-end tablets and operating systems, including, but not limited to, iOS and Android. Each mobile device has its own screen sizes, hardware capabilities, and software settings, and maintaining consistent performance is a challenge. There are general mobile testing services available where your app is reviewed in detail to evaluate and solve the defects before it reaches the users.

Here are some reasons why testing a mobile app is important:

Enhanced User Experience: A seamless, bug-free app keeps users engaged and satisfied. Testing ensures smooth navigation, fast load times, and intuitive functionality, reducing user frustration and churn.

Cross-Device Compatibility: With thousands of device models in the market, testing ensures your app works flawlessly across different screen resolutions, hardware specifications, and OS versions.

Improved Performance and Stability: Testing identifies performance bottlenecks, crashes, and memory leaks, ensuring your app runs smoothly even under heavy usage.

Security Assurance: Mobile apps often handle sensitive user data. Rigorous testing uncovers vulnerabilities, protecting your app and users from security breaches.

Faster Time-to-Market: Comprehensive testing streamlines development by catching issues early, reducing costly post-launch fixes, and accelerating release cycles.

Types of Mobile Testing Services

Mobile testing involves multiple facets and a collection of different testing methods to make sure all aspects of the app are optimized. Here is a short overview of the types of mobile testing services of the professionals at GQATTech :

Functional Testing: This makes sure that all elements of the app work exactly as they should, from simple button clicks to a complex workflow, on a variety of devices, and on a variety of platforms.

Usability Testing: This evaluates the user interface and user experience of the app to make sure its look, feel, symmetry, and aesthetics follow an intuitive, user-friendly experience.

Performance testing: This involves testing the speed of the app, the responsiveness of the app, and the stability of the app, primarily due to different conditions, meaning usage in low battery, poor network signal, and amongst many other variables, high user traffic.

Compatibility Testing: This makes sure the app works as intended between the devices, operating systems, browser versions, etc.

Security Testing: This considers vulnerabilities of the app, but also ensures compliance with data protection regulations protecting sensitive user information.

Automated Testing: The use of advanced tools to automatically validate repetitive test cases that may improve efficiency and coverage, for true speed in the testing process.

Localization Testing: Makes sure that the app works in regions and can support multiple languages, currencies, and that there is regional and cultural awareness.

Why Choose GQATTech for Mobile Testing Services?

GQATTech can be your managed services mobile testing partner for your mobile app testing. They provide end-to-end mobile testing to get the highest quality mobile app to your stakeholders. Their services include:

Wide Test Coverage - They include functional testing, performance testing, security testing, usability testing, and they will test all levels of quality for your mobile app.

Customized Mobile Test Strategy - GQATTech will understand your mobile app's specific needs and determine how the testing process needs to be tailored for optimal performance and satisfaction.

Experienced team members - GQATTech's Universal QA team has years of experience and a wealth of knowledge specializing in mobile testing across industry verticals.

Wide Range of Testing Devices - GQATTech has or you can test on almost any real device, or you can use a cloud-based testing service by leveraging the broad range of devices GQATTech has access to.

Agile and DevOps - GQATTech’s managed services solution allows you to integrate managed services with your current development pipeline, so you can get quicker and more accessible education, and faster testing cycles.

When you use GQATTech as your mobile testing partner you can ensure you are putting a quality mobile app in production, which brings considerable trust to the user experience and business.

Conclusion

In a mobile-first world, high-quality apps are essential. Mobile testing services ensure seamless performance, user satisfaction, and market success. Partner with GQATTech for expert testing, advanced tools, and tailored solutions to drive your app’s success. Contact GQATTech today for top-tier mobile testing services!

[backflowtesting]

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[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝑊𝑒'𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒

a lil something soft and chaotic: bakugo wakes up convinced ur pregnant… just because he dreamed it. it’s exactly as unhinged and sweet as it sounds, hope u enjoy this one 🕸️ ghostly tag guide

Bakugo jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest like he’d been running. Sweat clung to his forehead—cold, sticky—and his breathing was ragged. His mouth was dry, throat tight with a mix of anxiety and a strange kind of euphoria he couldn’t explain yet. He blinked several times, trying to focus in the dim light of the room. The clock read 3:48 a.m.

He stared at you for several seconds, swallowing hard, eyes burning with intensity.

He couldn’t hold back. He lifted a trembling hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

"T/n…" he whispered, his voice still rough with sleep. He gave you a gentle shake, like he didn’t want to break something fragile.

You didn’t respond.

He frowned, and this time shook you a little harder.

"T/n, wake up!"

You let out a sleepy groan, frowning, shifting under the blankets.

"Katsuki… stop," you murmured, voice raspy and soaked in sleep.

"Wake up. I need to tell you something."

"Katsuki…" you huffed, barely cracking your eyes open. "Are you serious right now? It’s three in the morning…"

"I know, damn it, I know. But I can’t wait," he said, with more force than he meant to. He sat up beside you, elbows resting on his knees, back tense.

You sighed, annoyed, voice dragging as you forced your eyes open.

"It better be good…" you muttered, propping yourself up on one elbow, hair tangled and falling into your sleepy face.

Bakugo swallowed. His eyes were shining with something different… emotion, anxiety, a flicker of fear.

"Listen… I think it happened."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

"You are."

"I’m what?"

And then he blurted it out, like the words had punched their way out of his chest.

"You’re pregnant."

You stared at him, unblinking.

"You’re insane," you said, starting to roll over and settle back under the covers. But then you heard him.

"I dreamt about him! I dreamt about the baby!"

You froze, your hand halfway to the blanket.

"You what?"

Bakugo leaned in toward you, eyes wide, lit up—so intense it almost scared you.

"Yeah. I dreamt you had this big belly. You looked gorgeous. You were walking around the house, laughing… I swear to god, it felt so real. Then… I was holding him. A boy. He had my hair. And his eyes… they were like yours and mine. He was so warm. I felt it. I fucking felt it, Y/n!"

This wasn’t the Bakugo who made fun of his own emotions. It wasn’t the one who hid his feelings behind grunts and sarcasm. This was someone else—hopeful. Raw.

And then you got it.

It had been seven months of trying. Seven months of tests, calendars, anxiety at every delay, quiet tears with every negative. And now him… he was convinced he felt it. That something, somehow, was already growing inside you.

"Get up," he said firmly, reaching for your hand. "Take a test."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. I can’t sleep ‘til I know. Please."

The bathroom light hit you hard. You walked barefoot across the cold tile, Bakugo close behind. Your hands trembled as you pulled the test from the drawer. He kept his distance while you did what you had to, and then you both waited.

Now it was you leaning against the wall, arms crossed, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from getting your hopes up. Bakugo held the test in his hand, staring at it like he could will it to answer faster.

"It’s not gonna go any quicker just because you’re starin’ at it," you muttered, trying to cut the tension, though your voice cracked more than you wanted.

He didn’t answer at first. Just stood there, still. When he finally looked down at the test… everything went quiet.

You straightened, tense.

"Katsuki…?"

He blinked. Slowly lowered the test and looked at you. For the first time since you stepped into the bathroom, he let out a deep breath. Then looked at the tiny device again… and turned it toward you.

Two lines.

Clear. Bold. Undeniable.

"It’s there," Bakugo said softly. Almost a whisper. But his voice didn’t shake. There was no doubt. Just emotion, thick in his throat, on the edge of breaking.

Your knees buckled. You brought a hand to your mouth, eyes going wide.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, eyes shining.

"Two lines, Y/n. Two fuckin’ lines."

And then you laughed. A choked laugh that sounded more like a sob, tumbling from your lips as your legs gave out and you slid to the cold floor. The tears spilled before you could stop them—warm, overwhelming. You covered your face with both hands.

Bakugo crouched in front of you instantly, carefully setting the test aside. His hands found yours, gently pulling them away from your face.

"Hey," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "We did it."

You only nodded, unable to speak. You looked at him like it was the first time. Like you couldn’t believe the man in front of you—the same one who once swore he wouldn’t get attached, wouldn’t need anything more than his job—was now holding you like this, eyes burning with fierce, unspoken love.

"Told you I wasn’t insane," he added with a crooked little smile.

"You weren’t, love..." you whispered through your tears.

He held you tight, face tucked into your neck, clutching you like he still couldn’t believe it. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Everything had already been said.

And there, sitting on the cold bathroom floor—you, crying with joy, him barely holding back his smile—you both knew:

The dream wasn’t just a dream anymore.

It was real now.

Now you were three.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[mephisto-reporting]

Period Pain Simulator

About:You suggest to use a period cramp simualtor on him, and he agrees, not fully understanding what he signed up for. Based on this request. Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Mention of periods, period care, pain.

ZAYNE

The pitch:

When you brought up the idea of trying a period pain simulator with Zayne, he initially tilted his head in that ever-so-slightly skeptical way he does when you propose something he deems "questionable."

You held up your phone, a mischievous grin on your face. "Zayne, I found something amazing. It’s a period pain simulator, and I think you should try it."

Zayne raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why? I’m a doctor. I understand how bad it can get."

You scoffed. "Do you really, though? So many male doctors dismiss period pain like it’s no big deal. I think it’s time you felt what we go through. You know, for science."

He gave a small, amused smirk, but the seriousness in his eyes softened. "Alright, I’ll humor you. But if we’re doing this, make sure to get the one that can simulate back pain, too. Many women experience cramps radiating through the lower back, not just the abdomen. It’ll be a more accurate representation."

The Setup:

When the package arrived, Zayne opened it with the same precision he used in surgery. He carefully examined the simulator pads and settings, nodding in approval. "This is well-designed. Electrodes for the lower abdomen and lumbar region… Not bad."

You couldn’t help but grin. "Glad it meets Dr. Zayne’s standards."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s get this over with. I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this too much."

He meticulously read the instructions, asking you questions about where the pain usually hits, its intensity, and duration.“And you’d rate it… a 9? Frequently?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I know you’ve mentioned how painful it can be before, but hearing it in these terms makes it…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You secured the simulator pads on him, and he reclined in his chair like a man about to undergo a scientific trial, his expression stoic.

The Experiment:

At first, Zayne was unshaken, even giving clinical commentary.

“The cramping sensation is similar to gastrointestinal issues.” he noted, folding his arms across his chest. “Not unbearable, but unpleasant. I can see why it’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” You rolled your eyes. “Just wait, doctor.”

By level 6, you saw the shift. His previously composed expression faltered, his jaw tightening slightly. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, his posture stiffening. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles whitening. “"The contractions are sharper now. Definitely impacting focus and posture.”

“What? Giving up already?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, though a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “But this is… significantly more intense. Is this close to what you experience?”

"Not even close," you replied. "Mine’s more like a 9."

His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned forward slightly. "Let’s test it, then. Gradually increase it to your level."

When you nudged it to 8, his knees began to quiver slightly, and he leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice tight. “That’s… that’s enough.”

You quickly turned it off, watching as he took a long, steadying breath, his head tilted back against the chair.

You immediately turned the device off and knelt in front of him, watching as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Zayne didn’t say anything at first, just ran a hand down his face and looked at you.

“Nine?” he finally asked, his tone low and tinged with disbelief.

“Nine,” you confirmed, smiling faintly as you handed him a glass of water.

He exhaled sharply, his voice softer than usual. "I’m fine. Just… processing. I can’t believe you go through that regularly." He paused for a bit and said after a moment, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you function like this.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, doctor, any thoughts on how to fix it?”

He smirked faintly, though his expression still carried a hint of solemnity. “If I had the solution, I’d be a billionaire.”

The Aftermath:

From that day, Zayne became even more attentive during your periods. Whenever he noticed you wincing or holding your lower abdomen, he’d quietly step in with solutions. He was already a sweetheart before this when he would: Startkeeping track of your cycle, ensuring his apartment was stocked with your favorite snacks, pain relievers, and heating pads. On particularly bad days, he’d prepare meals for you, saying it was "basic patient care."

One morning, as you struggled to get ready for work, he handed you a heating pad. "Here. Lie down for a bit. I’ll call in and write you a sick note. You need rest more than they need you today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can power through."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone firm yet gentle. "No need to prove anything. Your health comes first."

He draped a blanket over you and handed you a mug of herbal tea. Sitting beside you, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"You’re spoiling me.." you teased.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss your temple. "After that simulator, you’ve earned it. Besides, I don’t mind taking care of you."

And from then on, Zayne made it his personal mission to ease your discomfort every month.

SYLUS

The Pitch:

You bring up the idea while lounging in his living room, half-expecting him to dismiss it with his usual sly smirk. Instead, he leans back, crossing one leg over the other, an amused glint in his sharp eyes.

"A period cramp simulator, hmm? You want to subject me to this, kitten?" His voice is teasing, but there's intrigue in his tone.

“You already treat me like royalty during my periods, but I think it’d be fun to see if you can handle the pain. You’re always so smug about your high pain tolerance.”

Sylus had always been attentive during your period. He tracked your cycle meticulously, often surprising you with gestures that softened even his domineering demeanor. He'd run you a hot bath infused with soothing oils, carrying you to the tub if you were too tired to move. When cramps got bad, he’d hold a warm compress to your stomach, his other hand massaging your lower back with expert care. When you think you’re being a bother, he’d often say: “Sweetie, do you think the Onychinus leader doesn’t know how to cater to his queen?"

Sylus chuckled lowly, leaning forward. “Very well, kitten. I’ll play along with your little experiment. But I warn you,” he teased, tapping your nose lightly, “don’t get your hopes up. I’ve endured worse than cramps.”

The Setup:

When the package arrives, Sylus studies it with unnerving focus, turning the instruction manual over in his hands. He helps you place the patches and electrodes on his abdomen, his smirk never fading.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” you tease.

“Oh, I’m just curious how something as small as this could possibly mimic what you endure.” he replies, confident.

You set the simulator to level 1 as he stands in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your meal.

"Are you sure you want to cook like that?" you ask.

He shrugs. “You manage to work and do your chores during this, don’t you? Fair is fair.”

The Experiment:

At level 1, Sylus continued to chop vegetables, unfazed. “A mild annoyance,” he commented, smirking over his shoulder. “Feels like someone’s pinching me.”

By level 4, he hummed quietly, stirring the pot on the stove. “I can see why it’s bothersome,” he admitted. “Having this sensation constantly for days would be draining.”

You crossed your arms. “This is what I feel before my period starts. My cramps are much worse.”

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “Then turn it up. Let’s see what you deal with, kitten.”

At around level 7, his breath hitches slightly, and his movements slow. The knife falters for a second before he regains his rhythm. “Interesting…” he mutters, the usual smugness replaced by concentration. “This is… unpleasant,” he admitted, his voice gruff.

At level 8, Sylus paused, one hand gripping the edge of the counter as a faint grunt escaped him. “You’re telling me this is a normal day for you?”

You shrugged, leaning against the counter. “More or less. Sometimes it’s worse.”

When you hit level 9, his head dipped slightly, a cold sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “This…” he growled softly, straightening with effort, “is brutal. And you still function like this?”

“At least you’re not curling up in bed crying…” you teased.

He shot you a strained smirk. “Who says I’m not thinking about it?”

At level 10, Sylus shuddered, a rare moment of vulnerability showing as he gripped the counter tightly. “Alright, turn it off!” he said, his voice low and rough. “Next time any man says something dismissive about period pains…” He straightens, despite his trembling legs. “The Onychinus leader will personally make sure they understand how bad it can be.”

You help him to the couch, gently massaging his shoulders while he catches his breath. He leans into your touch, uncharacteristically silent. After a few minutes, he looks at you, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“You go through that every month?” he asks, his tone laced with awe and guilt.

You nod. “And worse, sometimes.”

You handed him a glass of water, running a soothing hand over his back. “You okay now, Mr. Tough Guy?”

His smirk returned, albeit faintly. “I’m fine. But I have a new appreciation for your resilience. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, sweetie.” he murmured, his hand reaching out to pull you close.

The Aftermath:

From that day, Sylus became even more attentive during your cycle. He already tracked it meticulously, but two days before your period, he’d sweep you off your feet—literally.

“No arguments.” he’d say as he carried you to his car. “You’re staying with me. I’ll handle everything.”

For the next several days, you weren’t allowed to lift a finger. He made sure every craving was satisfied, every discomfort alleviated.

One evening, as you sat curled up on his plush couch, he brought over a tray with your favorite snacks and bobba. Sitting beside you, he gently massaged your shoulders.

“You know…” you teased, “you don’t have to spoil me this much.”

Sylus leaned in, his voice a low, affectionate murmur. “After what you go through, sweetie? You deserve it. Besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “I like taking care of my kitten.”

RAFAYEL

The Pitch:

You find Rafayel in his art studio, humming to himself as he paints bold, crimson strokes across the canvas. His expression is focused, but when you mention the period simulator, he freezes mid-swipe.

“Wait. Back up.” He narrows his eyes at you, holding the brush aloft like a sword. “You want me to voluntarily experience pain? Have I offended you somehow, or do you just take joy in my suffering?”

You grin. “I was thinking it might inspire your art. Pain breeds creativity, doesn’t it?”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “You’d subject me to agony for the sake of art? Truly, you are a sadist of the highest order. But…” He sighs dramatically, as though resigning himself to a grim fate. “Only you could convince me to do such a thing. You should feel privileged. But don’t think I’m suffering alone. If I do this, you’re doing it with me.”

The Setup:

When the simulator package arrives, Rafayel eyes it like it might explode. Picking up one of the devices, he smirks.

“Cutie, there’s four devices… I think you misordered. Should we strap one of these on Reddie and see how he handles it? Might be the only thing more ridiculous than this idea.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s meant to simulate cramps on your stomach and back, Rafayel. And no, we’re not torturing your pet fish.”

He flips through the instructions and gasps. “It goes up to ten? Why stop there? Why not go straight to death by cramps? You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You scared?” you tease, securing the pads on his abdomen.

“Me? Scared?” He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “Please. Let’s get this over with, sadist.”

The Experiment:

The simulator starts, and Rafayel chuckles, waving it off. “Okay, I feel… something. Like a tiny, grumpy crab pressing against my stomach. Barely noticeable.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. “You’re starting this at baby mode, right? Because this is nothing.”

At level 4, his smugness evaporates as he clutches his abdomen. “Okay, wait. What is this? This is worse than that bad lobster I ate last year! Remember that? I thought I was dying, and now I’m reliving it!” As you ramp it up to level 5, Rafayel grabs your hand tightly, his face pale. “How—how are you just sitting there? Are you even human? You’re not reacting, and I’m over here wondering if my internal organs are trying to start a mutiny!”

When the simulator goes up to a level 6, Rafayel groans, leaning heavily on you. “This… this is inhuman! How can anyone live like this? I’m calling it now!! every deity ever owes women an apology. A big one.”

When you turn the dial to level 7, he collapses onto the couch in defeat, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I’m done! I can’t! This is not natural. What kind of cruel universe would let this happen? I concede! You win! You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

Watching you crank the simulator up to 10, Rafayel’s jaw drops. He stares at you like you’ve just walked through fire. “You’re not human. You’re a goddess of pain. A warrior queen. I bow to your strength.”

When the simulation ends, Rafayel sprawls across the couch like a fallen hero. “I’ve seen the face of true suffering, and it’s period cramps,” he says, clutching his chest. “From now on, I swear on my soul, I will treat you like the queen you are. From now on, during your period, I vow to never, ever bother you. In fact, I’ll treat you like royalty. You’ll want for nothing. You have my word.”

The Aftermath:

True to his promise, Rafayel becomes even more attentive, finding ways to make your life easier and more comfortable during that time of the month.

During your next period, Rafayel sets up a cozy movie marathon. He ensures you’re comfortable, surrounded by pillows and snacks, while he fetches anything you need.

“You shouldn’t even have to move during this time,” he says, adjusting your blanket.

Rafayel starts holding his tongue when he’d usually tease you about being grumpy or tired. Instead, he softens his tone and offers comfort.

“Cranky today?” he asks, then quickly holds up his hands. “Not judging. Just… Here, have this chocolate. And maybe don’t throw..” pauses mid-snark every time you are on your period now.

“You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off, wagging a finger. “Nope! I have seen the light—and the pain. I will never bother you during this time again. In fact, I’ll personally fight anyone who does.”

XAVIER

The Pitch:

It’s late evening, and the glow of dimmed lights barely keeps the shadows at bay. Xavier sits across from you, his neutral expression making his ghost story seem even eerier. His voice is steady, almost monotone, as he recounts the chilling tale of an N109 Wanderer cursed to roam forever.

“And then, the last person to see him claimed they felt his breath on their neck, even though they were alone,” he murmurs, his tone unwavering.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you can’t help but interrupt. “You’re really good at these creepy stories. Ever think you might scare yourself with anything at all?”

Xavier pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to scare me?”

You laugh nervously. “No! I was just thinking about something I saw online. A period simulator. It looked like fun—or, well, not fun, but… interesting.”

He leans back slightly, his neutral mask slipping into the faintest smirk. “So, instead of scaring me, you want to torture me? Bold.”

“It’s not torture,” you counter. “Just… educational. And you’re good at handling pain, right?”

After a beat, Xavier shrugs. “If it’ll make you happy, sure.”

The Setup:

The next day, a text from Xavier lights up your phone:

“It’s here. Looks dystopian. Like something from the Ever’s labs.”

Curious and excited, you rush home. When you arrive, you find him sprawled on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled as though he just woke up from a nap.

He glances at you, his expression as neutral as ever, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look way too excited for this. I hope it’s not as bad as it looks.”

As you set up the simulator, Xavier leans back, arms folded behind his head. “Go ahead. I’ll just nap through this, like everything else.”

The Experiment:

You attach the simulator pads to Xavier’s abdomen and adjust the settings. He barely reacts as you activate it.

“I feel something,” he mutters, closing his eyes again. “It’s like… a soft vibration. Barely noticeable.” He shifts slightly, adjusting his head on the couch pillow. Xavier’s brow furrows slightly, the first sign of unease. “Alright. It’s like a cramp now,” he remarks, still lying down. “Not pleasant, but nothing worth waking up for.”

At level 4, Xavier’s breath hitches briefly. He sits up halfway, propping himself on his elbows. “Okay. This is… noticeable. Like someone twisting a knife in slow motion.”

He glances at you. “You feel this regularly? Seems inconvenient.”

You nod at him. "That's on a lucky day... it's worse usually."

When you dial up the intensity to level 5, Xavier sits up fully, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Alright. This is officially too much to nap through.” His usually even tone is edged with mild irritation.

He rubs at his side, his neutral expression faltering as he exhales through clenched teeth.

At level 6, Xavier winces visibly. His calm exterior cracks as he shifts uncomfortably. “Who thought this was a good idea? This is like… a fight I can’t win. But it’s inside me.”

He shoots you a tired glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

By the time you reach level 7, Xavier grips the couch’s armrest, his knuckles white. “This is insane!!" he mutters, his voice tight. “How do you even… move? Function? Exist?”

He closes his eyes and takes a slow, measured breath. “Alright, I’m impressed. But I hate this.”

When you push it to level 8, Xavier’s calm breaks completely. He groans, pulling the simulator pads off. “Nope. I’m done. This is where I draw the line.”

He leans back, pressing his hand against his abdomen. “You win. And I officially respect the crap out of you.”

The Aftermath:

From that day on, Xavier’s quiet attentiveness becomes more noticeable. He doesn’t make a big show of it…he’s still Xavier, after all. Whenever you look even slightly uncomfortable, he’s there with a heat pack, water, or a blanket, his movements calm and efficient.

One night, as you rest on the couch, he leans over, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “if I could take that pain for you, I would.” When you casually mention feeling cramps, Xavier immediately stops what he’s doing.

“Don’t move,” he says, his neutral expression betraying his seriousness. “I’ll get you tea, chocolate, or… whatever else helps.”

When you protest, he shakes his head. “No arguments. I’ve been there…well, sort of…and I’m not letting you handle it alone.”

Xavier hands you a heat pack, his movements precise as he places it on your lower back.

“I read somewhere this helps,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “And no, I’m not going to fall asleep while holding it for you. Probably... It’s nice and warm…”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy

[songbirdseung]

lie lie lie / park sunghoon

when an innocent idea of using a lie detector with your bestfriend during a sleepover causes a few life-changing secrets to come out

curious and restless, you reached for the old, beat-up lie detector toy sitting on the shelf. It was one of those cheap, unreliable gadgets your brother and his friends used to mess around with, claiming it could tell truth from lies. but with the power outage stretching longer than expected and boredom settling in, why not have a little fun?

you glanced at sunghoon, your best friend, who was slouched against the couch, absentmindedly tapping his phone screen, probably trying to conserve the last bit of battery. he looked half-asleep, completely unbothered by the lack of electricity.

"hey," you nudged his leg with your foot. "wanna play with this?"

sunghoon lifted his head slightly, eyes lazily landing on the old device in your hands. he blinked, unimpressed. "that thing? isn't it broken or something?"

you shrugged, grinning. "probably. but let’s test it out. come on, it'll be fun."

he let out a long sigh but eventually sat up, stretching his arms over his head before reaching for the lie detector. "fine, but if this thing shocks me, you're paying for my emotional damage."

you rolled your eyes playfully as you both settled in. the dim candlelight flickered between you, adding an oddly dramatic effect to the moment. with a smirk, you powered up the device, ready to uncover some so-called "truths."

"alright, sunghoon," you teased, leaning forward with mischief in your eyes. "let’s start with something simple. do you think i'm annoying?"

sunghoon scoffed, sliding his hand into the device. "that’s the easiest question ever, yes."

you gasped, feigning offense, but before you could respond, the machine let out a loud BZZT! and flashed red.

your jaw dropped. sunghoon blinked.

"oh, so i'm not annoying?" you grinned, leaning closer with a knowing look.

sunghoon cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you. "i think this thing is busted," he muttered.

but the pink dusting his ears told you otherwise.

sensing an opportunity, you grinned wider, leaning in with mischief written all over your face. “hoon, are you blushing?”

sunghoon scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled his hand away from the machine. “it’s just hot in here,” he muttered, pretending to adjust the collar of his shirt.

you gasped dramatically. “liar!” you shoved the machine back toward him. “okay, okay, let’s ask something juicier.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes but placed his hand back into the detector, sighing. “fine. go on.”

you tapped your chin, thinking of something that could really make him sweat. “hmm… do you have a crush on anyone?”

sunghoon’s face remained unreadable. “no.”

the machine whirred for a second before flashing BZZT! red light blinking aggressively.

your eyes widened. “oh.”

sunghoon froze. “what? no way. this thing is broken.”

but you were already buzzing with excitement, sitting up straighter. “hoon, this thing only goes off when someone is lying!”

“i told you it’s busted.” he crossed his arms defensively, avoiding your gaze.

“okay, okay,” you said, trying to contain your grin. “so who’s the lucky person?”

“no one.”

BZZT!

you burst out laughing. “oh my god! hoon, stop lying!”

sunghoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “this is so dumb.”

“no, you’re dumb for thinking you could fool me!” you smirked. “okay, next question. is it someone we both know?”

sunghoon hesitated. “… no.”

BZZT!

your jaw dropped. “wait, wait, wait. does that mean it’s—”

“we’re done here,” sunghoon declared, yanking his hand out of the machine and standing up so quickly he nearly knocked over a candle.

“hoon! you can’t just leave me hanging!” you whined, grabbing his wrist before he could escape.

he sighed, rubbing his temples. “you’re going to be annoying about this, aren’t you?”

you beamed. “oh, absolutely.”

sunghoon sighed again, longer this time. then, without a word, he reached forward and flicked your forehead.

“ow! what was that for?”

“for being nosy,” he muttered, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

you rubbed your forehead, pouting. “so? are you gonna tell me or not?”

sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze flickering toward you for a brief second before looking away.

“maybe one day,” he said softly.

your breath hitched. the way he said it. it wasn’t teasing or dismissive. it was almost… sincere.

before you could process it, the power suddenly came back on, the bright light making you both squint.

sunghoon cleared his throat, stepping away. “looks like our entertainment’s over.”

you watched him carefully, heart pounding a little too fast. maybe—just maybe—this dumb little lie detector test wasn’t so dumb after all.

[g0dlyunsub]

under pressure.

getting strapped up to a lie detector as part of a bet wasn’t exactly in your plans, nor was exposing your deepest secret to spencer reid.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff! confessions, coworkers to lovers, cheesiness overload 

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: three weeks since i last posted a fic?? absolutely unacceptable *presses post button*

accompanying song :: more than friends by aidan bissett

“there’s a reason why that thing’s admissible in court,” you murmur to derek, watching as the officer packs the polygraph back into a cabinet.

derek chuckles.

“you think you can beat it?”

“i know i can beat it.”

you cross your arms and look up with a challenging smirk.

“there’s actually a lot of skepticism surrounding the validity and accuracy of polygraph testing, especially since it’s only an instrument that measures physiological changes like heart activity and perspiration. people often mistakenly assume they’re trying to deceive a machine, when really it’s all about the polygrapher, who oversees and administers the examination.”

you don’t even have to turn your head to know it’s spencer who’s just made his way into the room, derek’s lifted brow a confirmation of his presence.

“ah, look who’s finally found us. i was starting to miss you a little, kid.” 

“what are you guys up to?” spencer asks in return, his gaze shifting from you to derek, before slowly making way back to you. 

“l/n thinks she’ll pass the test with flying colors.” derek points at the cabinet and looks at you with a winsome grin.

“i won’t even have to try.” you shrug, placing your hands on your hips confidently.

“wanna bet on it?”

“loser pays for dinner. reid, you in?”

“i uh, i think i’ll just watch,” spencer politely declines, his hands nervously burrowing deep into his pockets.

derek bursts into laughter. “oh come on, kid, it’s free dinner for the both of us.” 

spencer chuckles quietly. “we’ll see.”

you make your way over to the cabinet, kneeling to retrieve the bulky device, and set it down on the table behind you. 

taking a seat, you lift your arms to secure the straps above and below your chest, and attach the blood pressure cuffs to your right arm. 

“nuh-uh.” 

you hear derek tut a sequence of disapproving clicks.

“hey kid, check to see if it’s around her securely.” derek tilts his head at spencer before nodding in your direction, adding, “don’t want you deceiving us in other ways.”

you roll your eyes before raising your arms in surrender. “go ahead, i’ve got nothing to hide.”

spencer slowly approaches you, hesitant steps overtaking his stride as he moves to stand in front of you. positioning a hand on your back for support, spencer sticks a finger between the gaps of the sides of your chest and the straps.

the straps tighten ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. almost like an unconscious reflex, you release a breathy exhale.

“is that too tight?”

it’s barely a whisper, and he’s close, so close — his lips hover practically right beside your ear that you can feel his breath tickle the hairs on your neck.

“no,” you let out, “it’s good.”

your heart’s pounding now, and you’re thankful that you’re not hooked up to the monitor rate, at least not yet. 

“just slide your finger into the clamp,” spencer instructs, his hand guiding yours into the plate where the electrodes lightly pinch your fingertips.

“is that comfortable?” spencer asks once again, his furrowed brows an indicator of marked concern as he searches for any signs of discomfort.

“yup.”

you bite your bottom lip as spencer hooks the cords to the monitor. his attentive eyes gloss over your strapped arm and flick downwards, stopping once they take note of your bouncing legs. you still your legs almost immediately.

“alright l/n, here’s a tester.” derek approaches you and lays his hands on the table, leaning forward. “have you ever lied to get out of trouble?”

you don’t even need to think twice. with a daring grin, you respond, “yes.”

“it’s stable,” spencer nods.

a mischievous smirk plays on derek’s lips. 

“have you ever lied to hotch before?”

you huff an amused chuckle, one laced with throaty disbelief. “no.”

derek rolls his eyes, but spencer nods in your direction. “steady.” 

“oh come on, not even once?”

you raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “why… have you?”

“this is about you, remember?” derek wiggles a finger disapprovingly. “next one… have you ever had any romantic feelings for anyone on our team?”

it's a question you were most definitely not expecting.

it’s only a brief pause, but it’s long enough to have you doubting – are your eyes widening? are your parting lips betraying you? is it actual sweat that’s starting to coat the tips of your fingers or are you imagining it?

“no, i have not.”

you feel heat start to creep into your cheeks, but try your best to remain unfazed as you await spencer’s judgment.

“give me… one second.”

the air suddenly feels ten times heavier.

a nervous chuckle escapes from your lips as you glance around. 

“try not to bounce your leg up and down,” spencer finally calls back, and you have to physically restrain yourself from sighing in relief. 

“alright, let’s try again,” derek announces as he finally takes a seat across from you. “have you ever had feelings for… doctor spencer reid?”

your instantaneous scoff overlaps with spencer’s. before you can respond, however, spencer chirps up first.

“y/n, don’t – don’t answer that.”

you, too, try to dodge the question with a dismissive wave. “come on, derek.”

thankfully, he rests the question aside. “fine. have you ever passed your files to someone else without them knowing?”

“yes.”

“to who?”

“to you, actually,” you boldly assert, leaning back into your chair.

“oh, she’s a rebel,” derek slyly retorts back, his gaze unflinching as spencer affirms your claim.

“did you, at any point, lie during this test?”

“no.”

“alright,” derek continues, “last question.”

“bring it.”

“do you currently have any romantic feelings for spencer reid?”

“seriously?” you swivel your head back and forth between derek and spencer, your eyes widening in disbelief at the fact that he’s repeating a previous question, merely adjusting a couple words.

it’s a question that you can’t answer. no, that you shouldn’t answer.

but this time, spencer’s quiet.

“you’re kidding me,” you laugh, “we are not being for real right now.”

“oh i’m being very real right now.” 

your heart thumps like a wild drumbeat, your pulse echoing through the veins marking the side of your neck. 

you start to lace your fingers together nervously as a thin layer of sweat covers your palms. the more you think about your moist hands, though, the more you start to sweat. it’s a constant feedback loop, feeding off of your deeply-buried secret.

slowly, you take off the straps and set the electrode in front of you, on the table. 

radio silence falls over the air disturbingly, like the entire room’s tuned to the wrong frequency. 

then, “reid, did you get that?”

it takes another five seconds for sound to fill the room once again, but the gravity of the silence is almost too heavy for you to register – your wordless confession strikes the back of your mind like an unpleasant storm, raining down on your thoughts with regret and humiliation.

“y/n, um, there’s a lot of environmental factors that can impact physiological response-”

there’s no going back anymore. 

if you don't say it now, it'll linger in the depths of your mind forever.

“i do like you.”

when there’s no response, you decide to fully commit to your confession. “you said so yourself, this isn’t about fooling the device, it’s all about the polygrapher. so, spencer, what’s your judgment?”

you swear you can hear your own pulse drumming against you and shaking your body. with the faintest whisper, spencer utters, “i think you’re telling the truth.”

after hearing his response, you shove your hands into your pockets and prepare to leave, but not without throwing a glance at derek, who’s guiltily tracing the edges of his beard.

as you approach the door, however, a hand hooks around your elbow, stopping you dead in your tracks.

spencer’s hand.

“that’s it? you’re not going to hear my response?”

you don’t look up. “no, i… fine, tell me.”

if only you knew about the collective swarm of thoughts swimming in his brain, the thoughts that are denaturing all his senses of rationality and self-control. he has so much to tell you, words that he’d spill almost instantly if he’d been better prepared.

his hand moves down to envelop your own. 

you do nothing to stop him. 

slowly, he drags your hand upwards, until it rests against his chest.

against his speeding heart.

“spencer?”

the glow in his eyes is unmistakable – his dewy orbs gaze into yours lovingly, the exchange almost a confession in itself.

“i don’t think that either of us can beat the test,” spencer softly murmurs, his breathy chuckle sounding like music to your ears.

you don’t know how to describe it – it’s a bittersweet concoction of emotions that continues to spread throughout your body the more spencer nuzzles up against you.

“no,” you voice after a pause, “i don’t think we can.”

“very cute guys, but i’m waiting on my victory dinner, so if you two can-”

“oh shush, derek, you’re ruining the moment,” you say as you break into laughter, and bury your head against spencer’s chest when you fail to recover your composure.

“and you’re gonna have to pay me extra if you want me to keep my mouth shut in front of all the others,” derek retaliates, his smug grin causing you to roll your eyes. 

“i think i can wrap the straps around his mouth if you hold him against the door,” you start while looking up into spencer’s eyes, speaking loud enough to draw derek’s attention.

spencer returns with a wide smile, one that tugs at your throat to release another hearty laugh.

“yeah, i’ll grab his arms first.”

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 2: I Am Not My Body, Not My Mind Or My Brain

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 (Here!) / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /

Trigger Warnings: Body Dysphoria, Medical Procedures

Heating food is a simple task. Humans have evolved enough through the decades to have invented this precious device called a microwave so that food could heat up faster for consumption. Sure, various studies confirmed that too much radiation on food is not suitable for your health, but people still smoked car batteries while claiming it was good for their anxiety.

Still, Timothy Drake managed to burn his dinner even if Alfred left instructions to leave it for one minute and twenty seconds. 

He could feel the smugness coming from Damian’s spot at the kitchen island, chomping on his food with the refinement of a prince while staring at how Tim scraped his burnt food from the plate into the trash can.

Coffee will do for now. He will not have a meltdown over that diabolical microwave that seems only to burn his food without fail.

“Losing against a machine is beneath you, Drake,” the boy said while glaring at the coffee machine with disgust.

“I'll take it as a divine sign to wait until Alfred comes home. Or I will throw the damn thing out the window.”

Damian scowled. 

‘Leave it to Drake to embarrass the family.’

‘At least it’s on the privacy of the manor. Not like the real embarrassment of the family.’ A cold voice whispered in the back of his mind, making the food in his mouth taste bitter.

It wouldn’t be the first time that she pulled a stunt like that to gather some attention from their father. Damian always kept track of her embarrassing actions (it satisfied him to know that no one could sink lower than the person he supposedly shares blood with), but it would be the first time the police had to be involved. Not even Todd had managed to do that, if we are talking about civilian aspects. 

In his opinion, she needed to stop trying so hard and learn that she would never be on the same level as the rest of them. Too soft. Too weak. Too much of everything and too little of anything. 

There was no way they could be related. Damian refused to be associated with someone who was beneath his intellect, and much less call them his sister. He demanded his father for a blood test after he had lived in the manor for about six months. His father only sighed deeply and denied his request. 

Tt, curse his father’s sensible need to help charity cases.

The chattering from the television transmitted from the room next to the kitchen interrupted his train of thought, chair scraping as he stood up and began washing his dishes.

The main living room of the manor was spacious, a tall ceiling complementing the old-fashioned structure of the dark wallpapered walls and big door windows leading to the backyard field. An L-form black leather couch with a couple of decorative pillows and fluffy blankets folded in the corner was occupied by none other than Cass, who was very focused on the bright screen.

It didn’t take long for Tim to stagger towards the love seat with his cup of steaming black coffee, very proudly showing the ‘#1 Coffee Addict’ engraving on the porcelain. It was a gag gift from Bart, but it was the biggest one he had, so he used it religiously.

Damian stood behind the couch, arms crossed, as the news went on about the recent controversial theme that has been invading every type of communication media. Under any other circumstances, he would have gone down the cave for his late-night training due to not being on patrol. 

But when the item that’s being talked about has been putting even the Justice League on tense negotiations, he’s a bit more inclined to put up with the fake neutral accent from the news reporter just to be more informed.

Mutants.

A bomb that the world is waiting for to blow up.

They’re not old news, but they have been gathering attention in the last few years. Especially in the past three years. 

Mutants have always been a touchy subject. Most of the public confuses them with metahumans due to their similarities, but they couldn’t be any more different. Metas are a recent development compared to mutants. Mutants were born with their ‘gifts’, from physical to mental, while Metas are a result of experimentation or a freak accident that triggered their meta gene. While they share the fact that their powers/mutations manifest under stressful or traumatic situations, mutants have a broad spectrum of possibilities on how their mutation shows up.

Multiple studies have come up with the theory that puberty might be the trigger due to the imbalance of hormones and the unstable emotions that teenagers go through at that age, but it hasn’t been fully backed up because of the high rate of cases of mutations showing up at birth. Too many factors and possibilities exist on how to identify mutants to settle on just one theory.

Which brings the public’s opinion on mutants. 

…People fear. A lot. It’s the basis of survival, the main reason why humans have lived and evolved for centuries. When facing something that qualifies as a threat to themselves, they will respond between their fight or flight instincts. As an evolving species, this has gone from physical needs to a more intellectual field.

Which leads to the public having very violent and strong opinions when it comes to mutants.

So, yeah. A very touchy subject.

“-that brings us to the big question: are mutants able to be controlled, or are we at the mercy of them?” a reporter with way too much blush even for the camera questioned, making Tim snort quietly behind his cup of coffee.

“That’s stupid.”

Damian couldn’t help but agree. And if Cass’s little shuffle was any sign, so did she. It was a very stupid statement.

Can a child with a gun be controlled, or are we at the mercy of them? The news was truly desperate for some pretty faces to get views on their programming.

“With that question in mind, let’s welcome our visitor of the night!” Interrupted a cheery male voice as the screen switched to the other side of the news set. It showed the interview chairs, soft blue chairs occupied by the interviewing reporters on the right side of the screen. On the left side sat the news’ visitor.

He was in a wheelchair, seemingly made of a sturdy material with a thick X formed on the wheels. Blad, thin eyebrows, and a gentle, pleasant expression. Dressed in a brown suit with a dark blue tie. It gave him a very open air, but with a touch of professionalism. He gave a very teacher-like aura. Trustworthy, intelligent, and secure. 

“It is our greatest pleasure to present such an important figure to our interview. We present to you Prof. Charles Francis Xavier. An expert and leading figure in the genetics field, as well as many other scientific fields. It is a great honor to have you here!”

The man chuckled gently at the introduction, dismissively waving his hand over the very flaunting words of the reporter.

“Please, Professor Xavier will suffice. No need for full names here.” His tone was polite and kind, making the atmosphere more soothing after a very bootlicking introduction.

At this point, Damian’s interest was lost. He didn’t need to hear about stuff he already knew about due to all the data and information Drake had engraved into the family’s brain, thanks to Prof. Xavier’s papers on genetics. He could feel Drake’s upcoming debrief on the whole interview during the next meeting, taking notice of how he straightened his back and laser-focused on the TV screen.

As Damian walked away from the living room, the professor’s voice echoed down the halls.

“I’m sure that most people sitting at home are concerned about mutants, but I am here to reassure you that there’s no reason to be so. First, let me explain what the X-Gene is and clarify some assumptions. Shall we?

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

“It worries me, Alfred,” grunted Gordon as he sat down behind his desk. The butler followed the action, sitting on the opposite side with a worried frown on his face.

Gordon was waiting for him at the very entrance of the station, not even letting him go through the ridiculous registration process at the front desk where a very tired secretary sat surrounded by messy papers and four empty cups of coffee at her desk. He didn’t utter a word until they went up the stairs towards his office, dodging sleep-deprived detectives and running cops to do their duties.

“She didn’t seem to even recognize where she was walking or who I was.” Gordon began typing into his computer, sighing once he found the file.

“You mentioned Lady (Y/N) had a head injury,” the butler commented. “How grave is it? Is your doctor competent enough to treat her here?”

The underhanded comment was not missed, but he knew better than to take it personally. Gordon has seen at first hand how Alfred could be a deadly force when it came to the members of the Wayne family. Especially when he prided himself on his medical knowledge.

Even more so when it came to Bruce’s youngest daughter. He remembers very well the day the poor girl’s case came to his desk all those years back.

“Dr. Vidal hasn’t given her report yet, she is still waiting for some blood test results.”

That made Alfred switch his attention.

“I believe I am not familiar with her. What happened to Dr. Ramirez?”

“Old man finally retired two months ago and recommended Vidal for his position.” Gordon snorted.

“She has been here for about two weeks. I was expecting her to quit two days in, but she is quite stubborn. Took hold of the morgue and now only leaves to turn in reports or treat suspects and victims.”

“So nursing background? Perhaps Paramedic training?”

“Worse. Emergency Room back at Gotham General.”

That made Alfred grimace internally. He has way too many horror stories dating back to when Thomas Wayne worked at Gotham’s General Hospital. And ER was hell on Earth, as he recalled the multiple visits due to the young masters’ accidents when they were younger, and he didn’t have the proper resources.

“Try the night shifts. Those were adrenaline-inducing.” A womanly voice caught the older men's attention, making them look back at the office door.

Brown, long hair in a ponytail, and soft brown eyes with a strange glint. Tall and long limbs, her black heels clicking as she walked towards the desk. She wore a white coat, black loose pants, combined with a classy deep emerald green shirt.

But what took Alfred’s attention was her expression as she stared at him directly, even while handing Gordon a cream file with documents.

Her lip’s corner was curled in what could be interpreted as smug. But it didn’t feel like it when her gaze assessed him sharply. When they made eye contact, Alfred felt a freezing sensation at the back of his head and ran all over him.

Like cold nails scraping at his skull, gone the moment she took her eyes off of him.

What an unnerving woman. She fit right in this city without a doubt.

“Test results came back negative, but I wouldn’t discard a bacteria or infection in the following days. Aside from the scraped knees and the head wound, no need for stitches. There were signs of a swollen throat and vocal cords, all from vomiting and choking in the water, but at least the risk of water in her lungs is out of the equation.”  

Gordon nodded, typing the report into his computer. He switched the documents around until he found the one he was looking for.

“And how is she responding? Does she know what happened?”

Dr. Vidal exhaled through her nose, a closed smile indicating there was a lot to unpack there.

“She has motor skills and reacts to questions and answers… but she doesn’t know anything beyond her name and someone named Billy. Claims she has to find him.”

That made Alfred’s stomach twist in a knot. This information wasn’t good at all.

“What exactly ‘she doesn’t know anything’ do you mean by?” the butler snapped in, making Gordon look at him and the doctor pick up the file to hand over to him personally.

“She has basic knowledge and quite a personality. But her mind becomes blank when asked about what her last name is, where she goes to school, what happened before the situation, or where her own house is.”

Gordon hesitates for a few moments, giving Alfred some space before asking in a very slow and careful manner. “Are you implying she has amnesia?”

The Doctor sighed, crossing her arms while sitting on the corner of the cabinet attached to the wall behind the desk and looking between the two men. 

“I believe it’s a bit more than that,” she said in a mindful tone. Alfred felt his heart pounding at his chest, but he didn’t interrupt the woman.

Gordon nodded at her to continue, leaning over to listen to her theory.

“Whatever she hit her head with was with malicious intent. I found a couple of cement residues on her wound, and by the form of the injury, it was thrown at her, or someone took hold of her head and hit her with what I believe could be a brick. Did she fall into the water by accident, or was she pushed in? I don’t know. But I think that someone is out for her, and her mind is blocking it as a trauma response.”

The silence in the office went on for long minutes.

Alfred’s mind ran down with the possibilities. Master Bruce had plenty of enemies, both inside and outside the mask. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to go for one of the children. He even remembered trying to talk his master out of microchipping each one of them while they slept, blaming it on his paranoia taking hold of his common sense.

But what puzzled him was that this was (Y/N). The ‘Embarrassment of The Wayne’.

He hated that title. Loathed it to hell and back.

A girl accidentally falls into a fountain on her very first gala, and the media goes nuts and creates a cruel moniker for a seven-year-old. He curls his fingers tightly around the document file in his hand.

The sobs and calls for her mother still make his nerves boil.

Which leads to why she would be a target.

While it made her feel insecure and the object of many cruel jokes and curious looks, it kept her safe and away from any dirty actions to harm her and Master Bruce.

A cruel price to pay for her safety.

“You mentioned another name.” Gordon’s voice took Alfred’s attention out of his head.

“Billy, wasn’t it?” He repeated the name with a frown. He couldn’t recall anyone with that name.

It took both men off guard at the dark look that came over the doctor, the air turning cold in just a few seconds. But it was gone in the blink of an eye. She cleared her throat and straightened her spine.

“Yeah. It could be someone close to her, maybe even the last person she saw before this happened. There are a lot of possibilities, but her mind latched onto the name like a dog with a bone.” 

He tried to search through all the talks he had had with the young miss in the past few weeks and months.

No one named Billy came up in their conversations. Not a classmate. Not even a friend (She didn’t have any. She always calls them classmates.). All that she does is go to school, practice after school, visit the psych ward, and go back home. That’s it.

Before anyone could say anything else, a knock at the door took their attention. Gordon permitted them to enter. A young officer opened the door, his face filled with hesitation.

“Sir, we have an issue in the showers.”

Gordon mutters under his breath while taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. “What is it now, Perez?”

“Um, it’s the Wayne girl.”

That got everyone standing up, with Dr. Vidal already running out the door towards the showers at the back of the station. The three men were also going a step after her, with Alfred almost catching up to her.

“What the hell happened?” Gordon questioned the poor, nervous guy.

“She broke all the mirrors, sir…”

“What?!”

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Forget riding in a police car with the signal on, taking a hot shower after being in nasty water was the top of best feeling in the world. Fight her on that fact.

The weird doctor was pretty nice. It had been odd at first, being alone with her and the nice police grandpa (he was called Gordon. That’s what she heard the cops call him when they got to the station while he guided her through the halls.). The doctor took care of her head first, putting some stinging spray on the gash to clean any nasty stuff that may have gotten on it. While she continued to check on her body for any other wounds, she asked questions.

Way too many questions. Who knew doctors were this chatty?

When Gordon left to heaven knows where, the doctor seemed to finally relax about the number of questions she threw at her and became quiet.

Which made the ambience awkward.

Which made her start to talk and make it less awkward.

It didn’t work.

Thankfully, the doctor (she grew tired of calling her that so she asked for a name. The woman only looked at her for a bit before saying Rio and go back to write on her file. Such a sociable lady.) didn’t tell her to shut it and just let her talk and talk until she ran out of things to say.

Her skin was vibrating under the still-wet clothes, the uncomfortable sensation making her bounce her legs from her seat on the medical cushioned table. Her fingers were wringing at the white paper beneath her, the crinkling sound breaking goosebumps into her skin.

Then, more personal questions started. But this time, Rio was looking directly at her.

From her full name to where she lived. Even the last thing she remembered before waking up in the nasty pool. It was quite an eye-opening experience, and it left her feeling lost.

Do you know your last name? How old are you? Um, odd. She can’t recall.

What day is your birthday? What does your dad do for a living? …That’s very weird. Birthdays were a funny thing. And her dad was- was a- he was? He was fading, he faded.withthem.he’swiththem.heisgonegonegonegon-

What grade are you in? What is your favorite color?...

Who are your siblings? How many do you have? …justone-

Where is your mother? alivealivealivealivealiVEALIVE-

It was a very tiring experience. Her head was pounding, and she had to close her eyes and lie down for a while. Rio got her some water and pills. Said it was for the headache.

They helped very little. Her fingers continued to tremble around the half-empty plastic cup.

Which was why it was the perfect moment to ask if she could use the showers. Rio blinked at her before rolling her eyes and handing her some sweats and a towel she found in the locker room. 

And that’s how she got her very much needed shower.

As soon as she got inside, she beelined towards the benches and put down the new clothes and stripped out of the nasty, ruined uniform. Then she hauled towards the nearest head shower and stood beneath the hot stream for a while.

Rio told her that while the bandage on her head was waterproof, she would have switch it for a new one after she finished. So she didn’t mind wetting her head.

Throughout the whole thing, her hair hadn’t exactly come to her mind. It wasn’t a priority.

Her fingers got stuck in a few knots that would be hard to get rid of without a brush at hand, so she just tried to get out as much of the moldy smell emitting from her with a bar of soap and a small shampoo bottle that Rio got her. It was a bit hard but not impossible, the scent of pomegranate and rosemary soothing and washing away the nasty gunk of her hair.

She hadn’t realized that she was calm enough to close her eyes and enjoy being clean after all of that fiasco.

A new plan had to be made. Not having a single clue of where she was and only her name and Billy’s was not working in her favor. After this, she had no idea where she could go or turn to. She needed guidance, someone to turn to and tell her what-

This is not her hair.

All of her thoughts came to a full stop. She had looked down to take the strands of hair that got tangled on her fingers. Just a simple action. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But the strands were wrong. It wasn’t her hair.

Black, long strands of hair were going between her fingers. They were forming different shapes and lines on her skin, which led to another thought.

This is not her skin. Those are not her fingers.

The water suddenly felt too heavy on her. She switched it off and ran off, almost slipping on the floor until she reached her towel and wrapped it around her.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These were not her fingers.

She gripped the towel, her gaze still focused on the hair strands on her hands. A ringing sound started to sound around her ears—a very far-off sound.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These are not her fingers.

She lifted the hand closer, looking at the black hairs while a shuddering breath left her lips. The ringing grew closer and louder. Goosebumps broke out on the skin, and her stomach fell down in a very uncomfortable sensation.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These are not her fingers.

One strand of hair was rubbed between the fingertips. Tiny water drops dripped down from it, revealing the natural pattern of the hair. Pin straight. The ringing was just by her ear, not registering any other noise. Her chest was heaving rapidly, heart at her throat, and a cold sweat was going down her spine.

Not her hair. Not her skin. Not her fingers.

…What else wasn’t hers?

A mirror. She needed a mirror. Right now.

Her head moved around in circles, the ends of the wet hair wiping against her back and making a sick feeling go through her body. She took a few steps backward, looking for any type of thing that had a reflection on it.

It felt too long. Her hair was never this long. She was sure of it.

‘There! Corner!’ her mind supplied when a glint of light caught her attention by the corner of her eye.

At one moment, she was by the benches, clothes folded or thrown on the floor and forgotten. At the next, she was standing right in front of the mirror, body trembling as she finally made eye contact with her reflection.

Not even the noise of lockers slamming open by a gust of fast wind snapped her out of her trance.

The facial structure was sharp. Cheekbones specifically. A very distinctive mole stood on the left side of her face, just above the start of the cheekbone. Skin looked pale, almost translucent due to the lack of sunlight. She could see the blue lines of the veins underneath her skin thanks to the white lights of the bathroom.

She looked sick. Very sick. Her mouth was suddenly very dry, making her swallow hard and feeling all senses of wrongness in her chest to the ends of her fingertips.

This was wrong. She was all wrong.

She took a few shaky steps closer to the mirror. Close enough to have hands against the cold surface. Fingers trembling, making a tapping motion as her gaze wandered around the reflection. 

Straight black hair, some heavy knots visibly sticking out around it. It reached halfway down her back. Water stopped dripping down the ends since she made her way to the mirror. The bandage gauze was still attached to the side of her head, no signs of blood on sight, but the material looked a bit inflated due to being soaked.

And her eyes… she only saw a glimpse of cold grey before she slammed her lids shut. Scrunching them hardly until the only thing she could see was white spots around the darkness.

The tapping increased. It moved the glass beneath her fingers.

It was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to look like this. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She is supposed to look like Billy. She doesn’t have black hair. She doesn’t have long hair. She is not this pale. She is not sick.

The mirror trembled under her fingers.

She is not this tall. She is supposed to be shorter. She doesn’t have these awkward limbs.  She looks like-

…Who was she supposed to look like?

Her mind supplies images, but they are all missing something. Like a magazine that has stuff cut out or ripped away. She sees a house, but the people are gone. She sees a front yard, but the neighbors are gone. A Halloween party, but nobody is on the streets. A children's room, but the beds are empty.

The mirror shakes under the pressure.

An empty house office. A dog bowl with no food. A messy kitchen with no kids. A dinner set at the table with nobody to eat it. A garden with gardening tools lying around. A red sky is coming closer and closer.

A framed picture with a family whose faces are scratched out.

She screams as the mirror explodes under her tapping fingers. 

The shards flew around the place, but not a single one touched her. Some landed on other mirrors, the impact making them shatter. 

She jumped back and landed sitting on the floor, head and heart pounding, as officers entered the place with all the commotion. Someone tried to grab at her, but she flinched and scrambled back until she made contact with the cold wall.

Her ears were ringing. Vision blurry. All she could see were blobs moving around, some farther and others closer. The voices were muffled. Her knees were brought up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Waiting for whatever was happening to pass.

Time was weird. Everything moved either too fast or too slow. Was this what a panic attack was, or was this something else entirely? Either way, she hated it. Hopefully, she would never have to go through it again.

It was then that Rio’s face came into view. The first person her mind managed to register.

She didn’t touch her. She was talking, but the ringing was still going on strong. Rio began to talk to the other people around the room. It actually looked like yelling, but it wasn’t at her, so she was not going to say anything about it.

Then a warm touch came to her shoulder.

This time, she didn’t flinch. It was weird. Her body leaned against it before she turned her head to the side to see who it was. And why she felt so safe and calm out of the sudden.

An old man. Dressed sharply, like that butler in the sitcom about a nanny. Gray hair and a concerned expression on his face. A classic mustache that brought some tears to her eyes, along with a warm feeling that spread from deep in her chest.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” his accented voice registered through the fading ringing.

Before he could say anything else, she dove into his arms, forgetting that she was only covered by a towel. Sobs and tears stained his clothes. But before any apologies could come out, the man wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as he talked to her soothingly. Caressing her head while she continued to cry.

A whisper went on the back of her mind. It was quick and gone in an instant. But she still heard it.

‘Alfred. Safe. Trust him. Only him. Not the family.’

‘Never the family’

“Alfred,” she whispered out loud. The man, Alfred, sighed in relief at hearing her respond.

“It’s alright. You can rest now, my dear. I’ll take care of it.”

She sighed shakily at his words. Eyes slid close. Not to sleep, just calm down for a bit. There was no way she could sleep with all that had transpired in the past few hours.

But I have someone now. I’m not as alone as I thought.

And that was enough for now.

Author's Note: This chapter was a beast to write. It will probably be the only long chapter for a while. I was even thinking of dividing it in two parts but I decided against it. Next chapter we are finally going to see the dynamic with the Wayne, so excited for it because it will be hilarious. Maximoff is about to enter like a tornado through the manor lol. Let me know what you all think, what theories and your favorite part of this chapter you all liked!! Happy early chapter and sending hugs, GG✨

Tag List:  @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild

Bonus Memes:

[sukeruton-san]

A Coffee Heart pt 4

First Previous Next

Red Robin found the apartment building his twin brother has been staying at with his adoptive parents. he is on the third floor, Apt 307, window is also unlocked.

He heads inside too investigate, he doesn't expect what he walked into.

_______________________________________________

Today has been a good day. No attacks of any kind against his person. Not to much destruction with his parents fiddling and he got a shit load of caffeine in his veins. So, it has been a good day.

" Danny-O look!!!" His dad holds up what looks like a death ray on steroids, he said so as well.

" I call it 'The Fenton Ecto-destruct' it's suppose to deconstruct ectoplasmic-entities into more of a liquid substance so we can get to the core Evan easier!!" So it is a death ray on steroids but worse because it's for the already dead.

"Cool, cool hay have you seen the plates I can't find them "

" I think there in with the ghost equipment I'll go get them!!" Dad sets down Fenton Ecto-destruct and hurries of to the makeshift lab in the spare room.

"And make the trip long" he mutters under his breath before picking up the device and takes it apart,rearranging some parts, and adding somethings aswell. Then he puts it together again placing it down where it was before.

"Found them!!" The plates get handed to him " now to test The Fenton Ecto-destruct!!!" He pulls the trigger

.

.

.

" Aww, it doesn't work, maybe I need to add more wires for the energy output!" Putting the ray in his pocket he heads back to the lab

" Don't think it will work at all with what I did to it" chuckling to himself he puts the plates in the cabinet before heading to his room for the time being half way there he feels like something isn't right

He looks around spotting an ajar window, tensing he closes it. Feeling movement to he's right he throws the nearest object to him, which is a box cutter, into a wall next to the sheepish face of Red Robin

" Ancients, you scared the shit out of me"

"Sorry, my bad "

Crossing his arms" Mind telling me why your here"

" May have over heard you conversation with your dad and got suspicious about it. Your quick with your hands it took you 10 minutes tops to rearrange the ray your dad built"

" Thank you, and sorry for disrupting your patrol or whatever you were doing " he rubs the back of his neck " you don't happen to know of places that dispose of lots of metal and equipment that don't interfere with rogues and or criminals do you, I don't want my parents interacting with anyone like that here with our stay but also don't want them in public."

The vigilante ferros his brows before stating" there's one in downtown Gotham that doesn't have much activity going on with it. Also are you okay your parents sound like rogues already and I Don't like it."

"They haven't killed anyone so far, so their fine for the most part just don't want them nere thing and or people that can make them worse then they already are."

" You haven't answered the first question tho also 'so far' isn't as reassuring as you think"

" Their fine, really" there was a ominous thump in the background " I am going to check that out, you have a good day" he hurries of too the destination the sound came from leaving a worried vigilante behind

_______________________________________________

The situation is worsening by the minute first he hears and sees the conversation between Danny and Mr. Fenton about something that can vary well kill Danny if the thing misfires. Next Danny's ability to deconstruct and rearrange or build upon things in fast pases hents that he has to do that often which means there are lots of potential weapons and or devices that can harm Danny or others aswell.

Third is that Danny knew that he was here and acted accordingly to the situation. he almost got my head with that box cutter if he didn't dodge in time. Fourth is the aparint need to keep his adoptive parents from rouges because they might learn from them when he is positive they already are rouges.

Last and most noteworthy is Danny's avoidance to answering the question if he was Okay.

He has a lot to unfold and first is the implied lab that the Fenton's are working in.

[backflowtesting]

[pinkpurplesunrises]

She whispered to both (and one whispered back)

4500 words – the long story – Alexia Putellas x Reader – This may be heartbreaking but I promise you it'll be okay - Angst and Fluff - Mentions of grief and stillbirth. -Please read with care.

I know that this isn't my best work, but I enjoyed writing it and am happy to upload a little something during hectic life events. This came out in two hours after work. Didn't really proof proof proof read it.

You sat on the edge of the bathroom sink. The cool porcelain pressing against your skin. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you stared down at the small plastic stick resting on the counter. The tiny device that held the weight of so many dreams. It was quiet except for the faint hum of the city waking up outside and the slow uneven rhythm of your own breath.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t smile.

You just stared.

Two thin, delicate pink lines glimmered back at you like a secret whispered in the stillness.

Two lines.

They felt almost unreal. Like a fragile promise balanced on a thread.

Your heart beat so loud in your ears you were certain Alexia would hear it from across the apartment.

You wanted to believe this was the beginning of everything you’d longed for. The proof that the endless waiting, the hope, the heartbreak, the countless injections, and the nights you held each other close whispering, We’ll try again tomorrow had finally led here.

But hope was a careful thing.

You sat frozen for what felt like hours. Your fingers tracing small, trembling circles on your thigh. Your mind spun through every possibility. What if it was a mistake? What if it didn’t hold? What if this fragile life wouldn’t stay?

Then, the quiet creak of the front door swinging open jolted you from your reverie.

“Hey…” Alexia’s voice floated from the hallway, warm and familiar. Threading its way to the bathroom door.

Your chest tightened.

You swallowed hard. Fighting the lump rising in your throat.

“I… I think it’s positive,” you whispered, your voice barely steady enough to carry the words.

There was a pause, a heartbeat where time seemed to hold its breath.

Then… footsteps. Quick and sure, crossing the floor.

She was there in an instant. Eyes wide and searching. Her breath hitching slightly as she took in the sight of the test in your trembling hands.

“De verdad?” Her voice was a fragile whisper. A mixture of disbelief, hope and something you could only describe as awe.

You nodded. Unable to speak, your lips trembling.

Without warning, she closed the distance between you. Pulling you into a fierce embrace. Her arms wrapped around you so tightly, it was as if she was holding all her dreams and fears in that one moment. Her face pressed into your hair. Her breath warm against your skin as she breathed, “We did it.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself dissolve into her. The weight of years of waiting finally giving way to this fragile. Trembling joy.

The world felt suddenly bright and fragile all at once. Like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. Your hearts beating together in perfect, uncertain rhythm.

For a long while, you stayed like that. Two souls intertwined. Holding onto the promise of the two quiet pink lines that had just changed everything.

While holding Alexia close. Your fingers tracing the gentle curve of her back, your mind drifts back to that chilly clinic room where your journey truly began.

The walls were white and clinical. The air heavy with anticipation and quiet nerves. You remember watching the nurse prepare the tiny needles and vials. Her hands steady as she handled what felt like the weight of your entire future.

This wasn’t just any IVF. This was your journey. Alexia’s egg carefully retrieved, fertilized with sperm in the lab, and now, the hope of a life nestled inside you.

“Are you ready?” the nurse asked, her voice soft but steady.

You clenched your jaw. Trying to steady the shaking of your hands, and nodded.

Alexia was right there beside you. Her warm hand sliding into yours, squeezing gently. “You’re the strongest person I know,” she whispered in your ear. “This is our miracle… we’re doing this together.”

Her words were a lifeline. A quiet promise wrapped in love.

That night, after the delicate procedure, you curled up on the couch. Your body tender and buzzing with new life. Alexia sat close, resting her head on your shoulder. Humming softly… a song in Catalan, a lullaby you didn’t know but felt like home.

“The waiting,” she said quietly, “that’s the hardest part. But we’ll get there. You and me.”

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions.

There were mornings when nausea curled around your stomach like a warning, and nights when exhaustion seeped into your bones. The hormones coursing through your body turned joy into tears, hope into fear.

False alarms and quiet disappointments came like waves crashing over you. Tests that whispered maybe, scans that said not yet and the heartache of waiting to know if the miracle had taken hold.

But through every sleepless night. Every trembling moment. Alexia’s presence was constant. She never left your side. Never let go of your hand.

She never left your side. Never let go of your hand.

And now, in the stillness of the ultrasound room, that same hand was wrapped tightly around yours, as if neither of you could bear to face this moment alone.

You were lying on the exam table. The cool gel already spread across your lower belly. Your shirt was bunched up under your ribs and your heart was thudding in your ears so loudly you almost missed what the technician said at first.

“Okay,” the technician murmured gently, shifting the probe. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

You barely breathed. Alexia sat to your side, her thumb rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand.

Then came the sound.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

That steady thump, magnified through the speakers. Filled the room like a miracle. You couldn’t help it… your chest collapsed with a silent sob. You turned your head slightly, saw Alexia blink hard, her jaw clenched to keep the tears from spilling.

“There’s one heartbeat,” the tech said softly, nodding. “Strong.”

But before you could fully exhale…

A second rhythm joined the first.

Distinct. In perfect sync. Yet undeniably separate.

Another life.

The technician leaned in, adjusting the probe again, her tone still calm but now touched with wonder.

“There’s a second heartbeat,” she confirmed. “You’re having twins.”

Your whole body froze.

Alexia gasped softly beside you. “What…? Cómo que dos?” she breathed. Her voice rising as she looked between the screen and your face.

The technician smiled gently. “Two babies. One placenta. That means they’re identical.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

Two.

Two lives growing inside of you.

You turned to Alexia, whose mouth was slightly open. Her eyes wide and glassy. Her hand was gripping yours so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t want her to let go. Not ever.

She let out a quiet, shaky laugh, and her other hand flew to her face. “I… what… Cómo voy a saber quién es quién?” she muttered in disbelief. And then she laughed again, this time through tears. “I can’t even tell my socks apart some days.”

You choked on a laugh and cried at the same time. It was absurd and beautiful and overwhelming.

Alexia leaned in close. Her forehead pressing against yours. Her voice a whisper. “Two babies, cariño. Two.”

Your hand instinctively found your belly, even though there was barely anything to feel. “They’re in there,” you whispered.

She nodded. Her tears finally falling. “Están aquí. They’re ours.”

The screen flickered in the dim room, showing two tiny flickers of light. Two hearts. Two beings. Sharing space. Sharing life.

One placenta.

Identical twins.

And a love already bigger than you knew what to do with.

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the car.

Everything felt like a blur. The sound of the ultrasound machine still echoing in your ears. Your body buzzing with adrenaline and disbelief. Alexia had held your hand the entire way out of the clinic. Her palm warm and firm, like she was anchoring you to the earth.

You slid into the passenger seat in silence. The door shut with a soft click, and suddenly the hum of the world faded away. It was just the two of you. And them.

Them.

Two heartbeats.

Two babies.

The leather of the seat was cool against your back as you stared out the windshield. Blinking like the sunlight was somehow too sharp. Too bright for what you’d just heard.

Alexia slid into the driver’s side. Buckled her seatbelt with one hand and glanced at you. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. Her tone laced with gentleness. There was still a glimmer in her eyes… like she was floating two inches off the ground.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again.

Your fingers moved to your belly. Instinctively, resting just above where the gel had been wiped away.

“There’s two in there,” you said slowly, as if saying it out loud would make it make sense.

Alexia smiled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. “Sí. Dos pequeñas lentejitas.”

You swallowed.

And then, like a wave breaking, it hit you.

Two cribs.

Two car seats.

Two of everything.

Two lives inside one body.

Your body.

“How is that even going to fit?” you blurted. Your voice rising. “Like… how is that physically going to fit in me? My uterus is not an Airbnb with extra rooms, Ale.”

Alexia blinked at you. And then… laughed. It was soft at first, but it quickly turned into that breathless chest-shaking laugh you loved.

You stared at her. Caught between panic and the absurdity of it all. “I’m serious! I already pee four times a night and I’m not even showing yet! What happens when they both have legs and start kicking like synchronized swimmers? What if one wants to sleep and the other one throws a party?”

Alexia leaned across the center console. Brushing a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll get noise-canceling headphones for them,” she murmured. Eyes sparkling.

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh my God. I’m going to be huge.”

“Estás preciosa.” Her voice was warm and low. “And you’re growing our babies. Nuestros bebés. If anyone can do this… it’s you.”

Your throat tightened. The fear and joy tangling so close together it was hard to tell them apart. “What if I mess it up?”

Alexia leaned her forehead against yours. Her hand covering your belly now, both of you touching that invisible world just beneath your skin.

“Then we’ll mess it up together,” she whispered. “But I believe in you. I believe in us.”

You let yourself breathe then, really breathe. The panic didn’t vanish, not completely… but it softened. Muted by the sound of her voice. By the quiet strength in her touch.

You glanced down at her hand, resting gently over your stomach.

Two heartbeats.

You weren’t alone in this body anymore. And you weren’t alone in this life either.

Alexia had made sure of that.

The nausea came in like an uninvited guest. Never knocking, always barging in at the worst moments.

One minute, you were fine. The next, you were hunched over the toilet, whispering curses into the sink and swearing off the smell of toothpaste forever. Mornings were the worst. Except sometimes it hit at noon. Or 10 p.m. Or all three.

The cruel irony?

You were always hungry.

Not just hungry… starving. Your stomach could be a pit of despair and still somehow beg for more bread, more cheese, more anything.

Alexia found you one evening in the kitchen. Tears running down your face as you buttered three slices of toast at once.

“Cariño?” she asked carefully. “Are you… okay?”

You sniffled, furious at your own face. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you whimpered. “I just… I missed bread today and I think I love this butter.”

She blinked. Then walked over and wrapped you in her arms from behind. Kissing the back of your head.

“You cry over bread as much as you want. Our babies probably love it too.”

You laughed through your tears, leaning into her.

It was like that for a while. Nausea and cravings tangled with emotions you couldn’t always name. Joy, fear, awe, exhaustion… sometimes all at once. You cried at commercials. At puppies. At the sight of Alexia sleeping with her hand over your stomach.

And then came the night you told Eli and Alba.

You hadn’t planned it. You and Alexia had only just wrapped your heads around the idea yourselves. But the moment happened. The way real things always do. In the middle of something ordinary.

Dinner at Eli’s.

Spaghetti night.

You hadn’t stopped eating since you sat down.

One plate. Then another.

By your third helping, Alba had raised an eyebrow. ‘’Tienes hambre o has corrido una maratón?” she teased. Reaching for the salad.

You shrugged, twirling another mountain of noodles onto your fork. “I’m just… hungry,” you said vaguely. Stuffing it into your mouth like it might run away.

Eli smiled warmly. “Well, that’s good. You’re usually picky with my sauce.”

Alexia was quiet beside you, chewing her lip. You didn’t need to look at her to feel the electricity in the air between you.

You swallowed, heart racing.

It was time.

You set your fork down. Took a deep breath.

“So… there’s a reason I’m eating like a small army.”

Eli and Alba both looked up.

You reached for Alexia’s hand under the table. She squeezed back.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was silence.

And then…

Eli blinked. “Qué?”

“Pregnant?” Alba repeated. “Like… now pregnant?”

Alexia nodded, beaming now, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sí.’’

Eli gasped, one hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God.”

You swallowed another lump of emotion. “It’s twins. Identical. One placenta.”

Now that stunned them into true silence.

Eli’s eyes welled with tears. Alba stared like she was trying to compute algebra.

“Twins?” Alba said. “Wait, how many servings of spaghetti do you need then?”

Alexia burst out laughing.

You laughed too and cried, of course because how could you not?

Eli came around the table first, hugging you so tightly you could feel the tremble in her hands. “Mi amor,” she whispered. “Felicidades. You’re both going to be a wonderful mamas.”

Alba hugged Alexia, still dazed. “You’re going to be two moms,” she mumbled. “That’s… wow.”

Alexia looked over at you, tears in her eyes now too. “I know.”

The twenty-week scan was supposed to be routine.

You tried to tell yourself that as you lay back in the ultrasound room again. Belly slick with gel, fingers tightly laced with Alexia’s. You told yourself it was normal to feel your heart jackhammering in your chest. Like your body already knew that everything was about to change. Again.

Alexia had barely sat down before the screen lit up with movement. You swore one of the babies gave a kick just as the probe pressed down. Show-offs already.

The technician smiled. “They're growing beautifully,” she said. “Would you like to know the sex today?”

You looked to Alexia. She nodded without hesitation. Eyes wide, breath held. “Yes,” you both said in unison.

The woman studied the screen for a moment, then turned it slightly toward you.

“Well, I can tell you that you’re having two girls.”

The words seemed to float in the air for a second before they sank into your skin.

Two girls.

Your heart squeezed so tightly it was hard to breathe.

Alexia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No puede ser…” she whispered, her eyes shining with disbelief. “Two little girls. Dos niñas.”

You felt tears spill over before you even realized they’d started. “Are you sure?” you whispered, voice shaky.

The technician smiled. “Very sure.”

Alexia was crying openly now. She leaned down, pressing her forehead to your temple, her voice thick and reverent. “Two little girls, cariño… we’re going to be mamas to two little girls.”

That night, back home, Alexia was already imagining their little personalities.

“I’m going to call one Limón and the other Naranja,” she said with a mischievous smile.

You looked at her, puzzled.

“Lemon and Orange,” she explained, “because they’re sweet but different. You know, like sisters.”

You smiled, loving the tenderness in the idea.

But just as you were drifting off to sleep, Alexia stirred beside you. Suddenly sitting up and blinking at the dark ceiling.

“Cariño…” she whispered, shaking your arm gently. “How am I going to know which one is Limón and which one is Naranja?”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow.

She was already pacing the room in her mind. Mentally assigning little hats. Socks. And maybe even tiny colored bracelets.

“It’s going to be chaos,” she said, her voice a mix of panic and amusement.

You laughed quietly, reaching for her hand.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She smiled, collapsing back onto the pillow.

“Good. Because if I mix them up, I might start feeding Limón orange juice.”

You giggled as you fell asleep. Your heart full of love. Wonder and a little bit of that sweet chaos waiting to come.

By twenty-five weeks, your belly was undeniably large. Round and full. Carrying two tiny girls who were growing stronger every day. You felt it before you even saw it: the weight, the stretch, the strange but beautiful fullness that was both exhausting and miraculous.

Alexia never missed a chance to be near you. Her fingers tracing gentle circles along your skin.

At night, when the world grew quiet and the city’s hum softened into distant whispers, she would lean close and whisper little things to your belly.

“Hola, Limón. Hola, Naranja,” she breathed in her soft Spanish voice, barely louder than a sigh. “Mamá te ama tanto.”

You’d smile as the girls responded. Tiny kicks and fluttering movements like little answers from inside you.

“Easy now,” Alexia would murmur Laughing softly as you winced at a particularly enthusiastic jab. “Be gentle with your mami, chicas. No hay que pegar tan fuerte.”

But you both knew the babies had their own rhythm. Wild and alive, like a secret dance only they could hear.

One afternoon, Alexia surprised you with something small and perfect: two miniature Barça jerseys. Tiny enough to fit on newborns.

She held them up with pride. “For Limón and Naranja,” she said, eyes shining. “Our future blaugranas.”

You laughed through the fatigue. Touched by her love woven into every detail.

She kissed your forehead. “Vamos, mis pequeñas. Creciendo fuertes.”

At twenty-six weeks, your world shifted.

It started with the quiet.

A stillness that didn’t belong.

You had felt the twins moving inside you, a constant dance of tiny kicks and shifts that made your belly feel alive, full of promise.

But then, one day, you noticed something was different.

You mentioned it to Alexia first, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re… not moving like before,” you said. Your hand trembling as it rested on your stomach.

Alexia’s eyes darkened with worry. “Cariño, let’s not panic yet,” she said softly, though her voice cracked.

You both tried to convince yourselves it was normal. Maybe one was just resting.

But the seed of fear had taken root.

The appointment came too quickly, and you sat in the cold, sterile room again… this time filled with a heavy dread.

The technician moved the probe slowly, carefully.

You held Alexia’s hand tight. Trying to steady your breath.

Then the silence.

One heartbeat strong and steady.

The other. Gone.

No flicker.

No pulse.

No sign of life.

The world seemed to tilt.

You squeezed Alexia’s hand until your knuckles turned white.

Tears welled up, blurring the screen.

Alexia swallowed hard, biting her lip as the technician offered her condolences in gentle words you barely heard.

You looked at Alexia, and all you could see was the reflection of your own shattered heart in her eyes.

The car ride home was silent, heavy.

When you finally let the tears fall, it was like a dam breaking inside both of you.

Alexia pulled you into her arms,. Holding you close as your sobs shook your body.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over. Her own tears wetting your hair.

You cried for the baby you’d lost.

For the silence where their tiny heartbeat should have been.

For the dreams that now felt incomplete.

But you cried too for the one still growing strong inside you. The little life that needed you to be whole, even as part of you was breaking.

That night, you lay tangled together in bed, the quiet between you thick and aching.

Alexia traced gentle circles on your back, her voice trembling as she spoke.

“We’ll get through this. Juntas.”

You nodded, wiping your face against her neck.

“No one can replace them. But maybe… we can still carry their memory with us. In our hearts.”

Her lips brushed your hair.

“Yes. Siempre. Always.”

You clung to each other. Fragile and broken, yet somehow still standing.

Grieving together.

Loving together.

In the days that followed, something shifted between you and Alexia. The world outside kept turning, but inside your home, time seemed suspended in a quiet aching space.

You grieved together. Really grieved. You talked more than ever before, sharing the heaviness that threatened to pull you under.

Some nights, you sat wrapped in each other’s arms, tears falling silently as you whispered fears and memories.

One evening, as the sky turned a soft purple, you broke down completely.

“I’m so scared,” you said between sobs, voice fragile. “What if… what if the baby still inside feels lonely? Or sad? Maybe she knows… maybe she feels something is missing.”

Alexia held you tighter, her own tears wetting your hair. “Mi amor,” she whispered, “she feels everything. She feels your love. And our love. She is strong, because you are strong.”

You hiccupped, wiping your face on the sleeve of her shirt. “I just want her to be okay. I want her to feel happy, not burdened by this sadness.”

Alexia kissed your forehead softly. “She already has the best mami and mamá in the world. We will protect her, love her, and hold her safe.”

The reality was complicated. The baby still inside you. The living twin was growing, but the loss meant doctors were watching you closely. Worried about how to keep both of you safe.

It wasn’t easy. Every appointment brought both hope and fear.

But through it all, Alexia stayed by your side like a fierce guardian angel. She never left your hand. Never stopped whispering love into your skin.

Some nights, you found comfort in imagining the little girl inside you. Feeling her kicks. Her tiny movements like soft reassurance.

“She’s fighting for us,” Alexia said one night, eyes shining with fierce love. “And so are we.”

You nodded, heart heavy but somehow lighter because you weren’t alone.

Together, you carried grief and hope like two halves of the same fragile. Beautiful. Whole.

At twenty-eight weeks, the weight of the secret pressed heavier on your chest. You and Alexia had held it between you for weeks. Grieving, hoping, fearing. But now it was time to share it with Eli.

You sat in the quiet kitchen. Eli’s warm eyes met yours, full of curiosity and love.

“We need to tell you something,” you began, voice trembling.

Alexia squeezed your hand, steadying you.

You took a shaky breath, tears welling before the words even formed.

“We lost one of the twins,” you said softly.

Eli’s face changed instantly. A flicker of pain. Of understanding.

“But… we’re still carrying both,” Alexia added gently, speaking in Spanish. “Es complicado. We can’t separate them yet without risking the other.”

Eli’s hands covered yours. Her grip firm and comforting.

“No tienes que pasar por esto sola,” she said quietly. “We’re here. All of us.”

Tears spilled freely then. Not just yours, but Eli’s too. A shared sorrow and a fierce love bound in that small kitchen.

You looked at Alexia, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and knew in that moment that together, with family, you could face whatever came next.

At thirty-seven weeks, your body was ready. Trembling with anticipation and exhaustion.

Alexia never left your side. Her hand wrapped tightly around yours. Her eyes full of fierce love and steady strength.

The doctor entered gently.

“We’re ready when you are,” she said softly.

You nodded, focusing on the moment. The long journey. The dreams. The heartbreak.

Hours later, with a final push and a soft cry, a tiny girl was born.

Her skin warm and fragile in your arms.

“Her name is Elena,” Alexia whispered, tears shining.

“Elena,” you repeated, your voice cracking but full of awe.

The nurses smiled softly. Giving you a moment to breathe and hold her close.

But the joy was shadowed by sorrow. Your other little girl, lost earlier but still inside you, had to be delivered too.

The doctor explained with care.

“We’ll help you say goodbye.”

Later, in a quiet room filled with soft light… you and Alexia held your second daughter naming her Luna.

Luna, the moon. Your moon. Forever part of your family.

Alexia’s voice was steady but tender.

“Te amo, Luna. Siempre serás parte de nosotras.”

You kissed her tiny hand.

“Goodbye, little one. We love you so much.”

The grief was sharp, but holding Elena and Luna, saying those words together. It somehow began to heal the wounds.

Alexia leaned into you.

“We carry them both,” she said softly. “In our hearts. Always.”

You nodded, feeling the ache and the love. Intertwined forever.

Six months later, the world felt softer. Still healing. Still tender. But moving forward in its own gentle way.

You sat on a worn wooden bench in the park. Sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves above.

Elena, your baby girl, was nestled in your lap. Her chubby cheeks flushed with the warmth of the afternoon.

She babbled happily. reachin out with tiny hands to grab at dappled shadows dancing on your skin.

Alexia sat close beside you, her arm wrapped around your shoulders. eyes full of that same fierce love you had seen since the beginning.

Suddenly, a delicate butterfly fluttered down. Landing softly on Elena’s fine dark hair.

For a long moment, it stayed. Still. Peaceful as if it understood the quiet reverence of this family.

You smiled, breath catching at the fragile beauty of the scene.

Alexia whispered, “Mira, Elena… un mariposa.”

“It feels like Luna is here,” you said softly. your voice trembling just a little.

Alexia nodded, tears glistening. “Siempre con nosotras.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Writer's note:

Next week's heartbreak: She came back after the silence (but not before it broke you)

[ladybyakuya]

| SWOON + NATSUKI SEBA .

+cw.—f!reader, canon-typical elements and themes, borderline yan themes, explic!t smūt, s/d dynamics + s/m themes, voice k!nk, strength k!nk, edging, use of sex toy ( vibrator ), orgasm denial,dubcon, begging, sub!space + sub!drop, praising, dacryphillia, aftercare

+wc.—2.6k

+syn.—Natsuki wanted to do something for you but that did not include hurting you; then, why are you crying ?

+notes. —This has been in my drafts for a few months when i made my debut post to the fandom but it's finally out. ngl the borderline yan behavior was a little hard for me to write given his character profile but i couldn't get that particular scene from my head. you'll see which scene I'm talking about when you get there and if you ended up spotting it please yell in tags / comments.this is also cross posted to ao3 & biker!gaku is my next post tho. | redirect to blog navigation.

Your relationship with Natsuki is ambiguous at best. You are an assassin. He is a weapon engineer. That is how things started between you two. You still remember the first time he asked you to volunteer for a test run for a particular weapon he made all by himself. He was so nonchalant as well as so tactless that it made you dismiss it. But you caved in eventually because he constantly kept nagging. He had the privilege to do so since you practically lived under the same roof as him, and ran into each other so many times throughout the whole day, making it impossible for you to avoid him.

“This is not going to be a habit,” you mentioned when you first volunteered and he just nodded. You swear you saw him laugh when he turned while nodding or could it be your imagination? 

Somehow this thin layer between being a test subject for his newly invented devices and batchmate diluted to the point that now he is testing you, your patience, and your sanity without using any of his newfound devices. You can not pinpoint when it all started, the dilution of such a boundary. A boundary that you dared not to cross with him. A boundary that you drew with the sole purpose of ceasing all sorts of expansion of his relationship with you. It was for him: to keep him out, not for you, and it failed to keep you safe yet it managed to shock you  whereas the mere existence of such a boundary tempted Natsuki enough to explore it, blur it, erase it, little by little until there was no trace of it.

Now, you are sitting on his lap legs sprawled apart to be as close to him as you can afford. He has both of your arms held under a tight grip keeping them at the valley of your waist. 

“Comfortable?” he asks, his lips grazing underneath your ear over your cheek ever so slightly as he inclines to check his grip on you. You give him a hum as a response. With his free hand, he pushes a hard bulb inside your pussy. You know what it is, a pleasuring toy, a vibrator but with your knowledge you considered it quite small. 

Seba-san said he wanted to surprise you with something. You have been so good to him, so helpful with his work, and needless to say so patient with him that he wants to do something for you; something that will make you content and happy, maybe wanting more of his surprises and thereby be dedicated to continue working with him on a pro-bono basis. 

What could be more rewarding for you than making you cum? That too for the first time? He heard you once. Talking about it to Shin, saying how you always had to take care of yourself. How nobody bothered enough to make you cum! Always busy with just getting themselves off first. Natsuki practically felt his body shiver. You have never orgasmed before? That's hard to believe. How could such no one make you cum with a face like that? So pretty, so expressive. Moreover, he knows— he is aware of it that he can achieve this feat, oh dear the range of pleasure he could provide you— makes it hard for him to think it through.

Natsuki turns on the vibrator and the intensity has already swept away all your attention from the surroundings channeling it all onto him. “Is that the highest bar?” One of his eyebrows stretches upwards. So, you want more. . .? Is this too little for you, dear? Natsuki does not give you an answer but increases the intensity just one more bar making your lips curl inwards. You tip your head down, let your eyelids fall and your vision goes dark for a second. The sound of vibration reaches your ear. He increases one more bar and it just threatens you to hold on to something, anything. 

Looking up you let out a wry awkward chuckle followed by a heavy gasp you ask, “Are there more?” Natsuki’s eyebrows pinch a little and then go back to normal.

“Yes.” His voice is low, raspy, and impatient. You try to loosen his grip but he is strong. You feel his grip on your wrist tightens further. “Three more buttons.” By now your legs have encapsulated his torso yet the urge to move your hips against his lower half does not go away. You do not want this sensation to stop either, just a little toned down but saying that might not give you the result you want.

Natsuki is not doing any better though. The choice of your clothing is bothering him, hindering him from studying you properly. He should have thought of that, perhaps buying you an outfit that would not expose your excited state too ludicrously. Honestly, he is holding back the urge to put his mouth on one of your nipples and suckle on it over the cloth. He can see it properly, your buttoned nipples. Do they match the color of your lips? 

You have started to whimper, just a little though like a wounded cat but that is not the sound he wanted to hear. He increases the intensity by another progression and your forehead rests on his shoulder sniveling. You are in desperate need of distraction. You just can not let him see you like this, crumble like a house of cards. You refuse to give him a glimpse of such an intimate moment. Not to mention it will be your first time too.

“You are so impressive.” Natsuki opined, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I would not have lasted this long.” He lies. He lies because he knows he will win if you two make a bet to see who lasts longer. Maybe Natsuki should save it for the next session. Turning your head, you glance at him, gasping with your mouth open as he intently watches your eyes glisten with water. “Just one more left. You can do this. I think—he pauses to glance at your lips for a second. “I believe you really can if you try,” he soaks his lips by running the tip of his tongue in a quick swipe.

It's obviously tempting. You lean for a kiss but he sways his upper body away. Ah! The hurt in your eyes. The shock. The frustration. The anger. This is what he wanted to witness: the downfall of your tranquil demeanor that you always carry with you in each step. He increases the intensity to the fullest making you close your eyes. The way you are whimpering and breathing could easily be mistaken as the sound of a dying creature. His is hard but that does not bother him as much if he can see the tears rolling down your cheeks as you arch your body. There are beads of perspiration over your forehead, and chest a little bit on your face and hands.

“Stop.” you welp. “Make it stop.” Natsuki keeps the remote aside on the table, running the tip of his index finger over his bottom lip rashly.

“Why do you want to stop? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He brushes his fingers against your cunt over the cloth making you jump releasing a hiss of pleasure. “Look. You are so wet.” Even after touching you through the cloth, his fingers are so sticky. He stretches his fingers revealing the strings of your arousal and glances at you. You can barely hold back your tears. You can not figure out if those are tears of pleasure or the embarrassment seeping into you as he licks his slick fingers staring right into your eyes.

“Then, at least leave my hands.” You say huffing it out with a pained sob then, start to cry making him go silent for a few seconds. He probably forgets to breathe until your whimpers start to get elongated, louder and finally turn into lewd cries of pleasure. This is a pleasure, yeah! It definitely is. He does not know what pleasure would look like on your face. So, he assumes it; even fantasizes about it a couple of times.

“No, that I can’t do.” He whispers but a mumble reaches to your ears. “But I can do this,” He states, taking his free hand behind you and interlacing his fingers with yours. It relaxes your strained muscles. He still kept his grip tightened while filling the gaps of your fingers with his not giving you even a bleak chance to free your hand. 

Now his face is closer to yours but you know better than to pursue the desire of putting your lips on his. He rests his chin just at the advent of your cleavage on your chest watching you as you start to twist and turn your body, buck your hips. Your feet stretch out as farther it can as the wave finally stops hitting the shore. The way you inhaled through your mouth and then exhaled it felt like you were about to puke. Natsuki was the first to question, “What just happened? I didn't…

“Why did you stop?” 

“I didn’t.”  Is he lying? Is this fun to him? Tormenting you to the point of ruin. Natsuki can see your lips droop like the wilting petals of a flower, eyebrows growing closer to each other. You roll your bottom lip inside your mouth unable to take it anymore, feeling a wave of sorrow building inside your ribs. But you do not feel Natsuki’s hand anymore. So, without wasting any further seconds to got out of his clutches and ran towards the bathroom. Natsuki follows without thinking anything only to be met with the chocolate of the wood. 

As soon as you bolt the door of the bathroom it all comes crashing down— flashes of his face when he was touching you, looking too fondly than he should, pushing your limits, and making you cum. You could not help but feel the guilt of it all since it was truly your fault all along. You could have said no and he would have listened. He is not that cruel. No. Never that cruel to you but you gave in because you were curious too. You were eager to know how it would feel to orgasm, to be touched so fondly and full of desire. And, you saw that desire in his eyes: that greedy lustful desire but you were wrong to think that you could contain it all in. Now it is oozing out of you, out of him. This realization that came so suddenly and so strongly which has been dormant for years, perhaps when you started frequenting his room often after being his mock-up weapon tester lets another wave of misery wash over you. Does he like you back the way you like him?

“I’m sorry.” You hear Natsuki’s voice. It is faded but you hear it, his breathing too. “I’m sorry.” Then again, “I’m sorry. . .I’m sorry. I— I will never do this again.”

“You don’t know that.”  You shout from the inside of the bathroom, your voice hitting the walls howls back at you, and then you gasp before finally breaking into a sob. It hurts. It pains. It aches. It agonizes you to think of anything or even touch yourself to release that piled up pressure in you. You feel as if there was no spark fiery enough to create wildfire in your body. All those hook-ups and bad dates that ended up with you being used as a thing to get off . . . they are all coming back to you now . . .maybe it's you. . .maybe it's you who can’t cum and that is why they did what they craved: took care of themselves with your help.

Natsuki can hear you; your faint sob coming through the locked thick wooden door as he stands leaning his head on it. He knows saying sorry no matter how many times would be useless now but he still wanted to say it because it was never his intention to hurt you like this. He just wanted to see your pleasure and push you to the high end of your limits, show you something so strong, so impactful that every time you would touch yourself you would think of him, so every time you ever think of going out with another guy you would think of him. As Natsuki’s head rests on the wooden door he draws lazy patterns on the doors while waiting for you to come out. 

It has been over half an hour. Natsuki does not mind standing even though you have not replied. But one thing has changed you have stopped crying. He can not hear your sobs anymore. He finally sits on the ground hearing something from the other side, his face still facing the door. He is waiting for you to come out, and see your face.

“Natsu, are you still there?” Your voice is murky. It wobbles as you speak more.

“Yes. yes. Of course. Am still here. Still here.” Natuski hears the lock of the door open with a click but you wait before pulling the door inside the bathroom to open it. You see Natsuki flopped on the floor, legs one of the other loosely placed with his headphones still as it was.

“Congrats. You broke the vibrator.” That was the first thing he could say when he saw you, your red swollen eyes. You are drenched from head to toe, water dripping on the floor as Natuski is forced to remember certain days when you would come home like this. Is this your coping mechanism?

“What?”

“Well. It was my fault too . . .” his eyes pull away from you as he confesses. He can’t think of anything other than being near you. He does not want you to watch you fall apart. If you do, he will be there to pick up the pieces and build Rome again. He knows it’ll be different Rome, he knows that but still worth a try. “Shall we go eat something? You must be hungry.” 

“Nah!” you walk past him, fully drenched looking for a towel. You appreciate his sentiment, you really do but right now you do not want those pair of eyes to look at you. Natsuki gets up and walks up to you holding you by your upper arm and jerking you towards himself. You do not protest much. You are tough. You can handle it when he is rough with you but lust and desire are oozing out of you. It’s hard to just watch and not do anything about it, about the spill. 

Natsuki cups one of your breasts and you cling to his touch like a branch of a tree reaching out for sunlight. He wets his bottom lip before pressing his thumb over your nipple. It does not take for him to wipe the boundary off that you had put up to keep him away. His lips on yours cascading like waterfall from a mountain,hand tending to your breast while your hands find a way to clamp around his shoulders pulling him into the kiss, dampening his clothes more and more till he squeezes your breasts a little too hard making you come back to reality, pushing him away to breath again. Your shoulders are against his chest now. His grip over your upper arm is still intact. He won’t let you go. He won’t let you go. He won’t.

“If you don’t take care of yourself then I'll be forced to do so.”  Your eyes are so sharp as you swat your head to look at him. 

“Yes.” You murmur and glance at his lips. “Yes. Yes. ‘course.” You lean towards him a little saying, “I’m hungry, very much hungry.” as your lips clash against his again.

[enflixx]

Letters from Stanford - Jake Sim

summary: You and Jake always planned to go to college together at University of Melbourne. When acceptance letters arrive, joy fills the air… until a secret Stanford letter changes everything. As summer passes, love is tested, truths unravel, and promises are made with trembling hands. When the day finally comes to say goodbye, distance becomes your new reality, but love doesn’t leave so easily.

genre: angst, just a little fluff

warnings: kisses throughout the fic

word count: 3,323

You were sitting cross-legged at the bottom of Jake’s bedroom floor, controllers in hand, and eyes locked on the TV screen. The two of you had been building a massive lake house in Minecraft for the past hour, trying to distract yourselves from the anxiety gnawing at your insides.

Jake’s room was dimly lit, except for the glow of the screen and the fairy lights hanging lazily above his bed. His knee was bouncing. He hadn't stopped fidgeting for the past ten minutes.

“Okay,” he said suddenly, glancing at the clock. 6:59 PM. “It’s almost time.”

You dropped your controller, heart thudding. “Don’t say that.”

Jake scrambled off the floor and flopped onto the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come on. We said we’d do this together.”

You joined him, your shoulder brushing his as you both grabbed your phones. The moment the clock struck 7:00 PM, both your devices buzzed at once.

Jake sucked in a breath. “Ready?”

You nodded, your fingers trembling as you hovered over the “View Decision” button.

“Three,” he said.

“Two,” you whispered.

“One.”

You both tapped your screens.

University of Melbourne: Accepted.

Jake let out a choked sound next to you. “I got in—wait—you too?”

You turned your screen toward him with a breathless laugh. “I got in! OMG I got in!”

Jake grabbed your free hand and pulled you into the tightest hug, both of you nearly falling back against the pillows in a tangle of limbs and joy.

“We did it!” he shouted. “OMG, we actually did it!”

You were both laughing, spinning in your own little whirlwind of excitement. He kissed your cheek, your nose, your forehead, completely overflowing with joy.

“We’re going to Melbourne!” he grinned, forehead pressed to yours. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, barely believing it yourself.

Then Jake hopped off the bed, still grinning. “Hold that thought. I need to pee or I’m gonna explode.”

You laughed and nodded, watching him disappear into the hallway.

The door clicked shut.

You turned back to your phone, thumb hovering over the unopened Stanford email sitting quietly beneath the one from Melbourne.

You hesitated. Then tapped it.

Your heart thudded as you clicked “View Decision.”

Congratulations…

The word blurred for a second as your vision went watery. You blinked, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Stanford.

You hadn’t thought you’d get in. You’d applied on a whim, just to see.

And now here it was, real and glowing in front of you. A future you’d never seriously planned for now opened like a door you hadn’t realized was unlocked.

Your eyes welled with tears. Not sad ones, not exactly. Just... big ones. The kind that came when the world shifted a little under your feet.

Suddenly you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

You snapped out of it and quickly swiped the tab closed, locking your phone and tossing it aside just as Jake returned.

“Miss me?” he joked, flopping back down beside you.

You forced a smile, chest still tight. “Always.”

He leaned into you, grabbing your hand again. “So, what do we do first? Start looking at apartments? I already bookmarked this tiny studio near campus with the biggest kitchen ever .”

You laughed, letting him talk about your shared future, your heart splitting in two. One part still with him. The other already halfway across the world, in California.

The summer passed in a blur of travel plans, shopping lists, visa applications. Jake was so excited, always talking about your apartment, your future, the way you’d decorate with little succulents and string lights. You smiled, nodded, made Pinterest boards with him.

But at night, you stared at the Stanford portal, wondering what it meant to choose something he wasn’t part of.

One warm July afternoon, Jake surprised you with dinner reservations at a cozy Australian-themed diner “to get a real taste of Aussie life,” he’d said with a grin that made your heart flip.

The diner smelled like woodsmoke and grilled meat, a haze of barbecue spice hanging in the air as the late July sun filtered through the tall windows. You and Jake sat across from each other in a vinyl booth, the table between you cluttered with half-unwrapped sliders, charred corn, and paper baskets of fries dusted with pink sea salt. Somewhere nearby, a child was laughing over a spilled milkshake, and the sizzle of meat on the open grill played like background music to a summer evening that felt too big to hold in your chest.

Jake reached for a fry, eyes glowing with quiet excitement. “Okay, so… don’t kill me,” he said, trying and failing not to grin. “I did a thing.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Please tell me you didn’t try to book our flights without me again.”

“No,” he laughed. “Um.. worse.”

He slid his phone across the table. The screen was lit up with a listing, the apartment. Your apartment. The one you’d found during a late-night spiral of Pinterest boards and real estate blogs. The one with exposed brick and tall windows and a kitchen that made your breath catch the first time you saw it. Big, sunlit, clean counters, even a little breakfast island with hanging lights overhead.

“You’re kidding,” you whispered, leaning in.

“I made an offer,” he said. “And… they accepted. If we want it, it’s ours.”

You blinked at the screen. The pictures hadn’t changed, but somehow they felt sharper now, more real. The wide kitchen, all open shelving and clean lines, looked like the kind of place people filmed romantic comedies in. You could see the two of you in it, Jake cooking in the mornings in his ridiculous pajama pants, you dancing barefoot to some awful playlist while coffee brewed.

You looked up at him. “Jake…”

“I know I should’ve asked,” he said quickly. “I just… I saw it again and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That kitchen, the big window in the bedroom, the campus just down the street. It felt like us, you know?”

You sat back slowly, heart full and aching all at once.

“I just thought it could be home,” he added, voice softer now. “Our first perfect one.”

You didn’t speak right away.

You stared at the image. The bright white cabinets. The tall pantry. The way the light poured through the glass every morning.

You wanted it.

God, you wanted it so so much.

But not as much as you wanted to stop time. Not as much as you wanted to silence that quiet voice that had been growing louder since Stanford sent that email.

“Maybe…” you began, choosing your words carefully, gently. “Maybe we should look a bit more. Just to be sure. It’s a big decision.”

Jake blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He nodded quickly, lips pressing together in a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right. No need to rush.”

You reached for your drink to avoid the way his gaze searched your face. “Exactly. We’ve got time.”

He leaned back, tried to laugh. “Honestly, we might even find something with a bigger balcony. Or even a bathtub. Who knows?”

You nodded, the fry in your hand going cold.

The moment passed, at least on the surface. He picked up his burger again, and you made a joke about fairy bread being the pinnacle of Australian cuisine. The two of you slipped back into the rhythm of laughing, dreaming, talking about color schemes and who would be in charge of dishes. But beneath it all, the dream had shifted. The apartment was perfect. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if perfect was enough.

It was late afternoon, the golden sun filtering through the window and casting long shadows across your bedroom. Boxes were everywhere, half-packed and labeled in your handwriting. A quiet playlist hummed in the background while the two of you worked side by side, sorting through his books, folding clothes, and deciding what made the cut for Melbourne.

You were kneeling beside the desk, packing paperbacks into a box labeled DO NOT BEND when Jake, searching for packing tape, reached over and grabbed a slim red folder tucked behind a lamp.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked casually, flipping it open before you could stop him. His voice shifted mid-sentence, growing still. “Stanford?”

Your hands froze around a copy of The Secret of Us. The air thinned.

“Jake—”

“You applied to Stanford?” he asked again, slower this time, like he was trying to make sense of the words.

You sat back on your heels, throat dry. “I... yeah, i did.”

He looked at the folder again, then at you. “You got in?”

You nodded, barely.

A beat passed. Jake blinked, his jaw tightening, then loosening like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel. He let out a short breath and took a small step back, the folder hanging limply in his hand. “When?”

You couldn’t look at him. “Same day as Melbourne.”

Silence. The kind that buzzes in your ears and makes your heart ache.

“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice was quieter now. Not angry, just... hurt. In total disbelief.

“I didn’t know how,” you whispered, fidgetting at the worn edges of the carpet. “I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?” he said, then laughed short and humorless. “Us?”

You looked up. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think I’d just get up and leave.”

“But you didn’t even give me the chance to be proud of you,” he admitted. “You didn’t even let me in at all.”

You stood slowly, heart racing, words stuck in your throat. “I wasn’t going to go,” you said. “I swear, Jake. We planned this, and I meant it. I just... I needed time to figure it out.”

Jake shook his head, eyes scanning the floor around you like he was trying to ground himself. “You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I was so scared.”

He looked at you then, really looked past the guilt, past the secrets. There was hurt in his eyes, yes, but something softer, too. A flicker of understanding.

“I wish you trusted me with this,” he said, voice low. “But... I get why you didn’t.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, slowly. “You should go.”

Your heart cracked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, finally smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You got into Stanford. That’s huge. I’d never want to hold you back.”

“But…Jake—”

“I want you to go,” he repeated, gently this time. “Even if it’s the last thing I want.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Jake filled the space between you in two steps and pulled you into his chest like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You clutched the front of his shirt, burying your face into the curve of his neck. “I didn’t want to lose you,” you choked out.

“You’re not,” he whispered, but his voice cracked. “God, you’re not.”

But it felt like you both were anyway.

His arms were wrapped around you, so tight it almost hurt, and still it didn’t feel close enough. You felt his chest hitch beneath your palms, his breath stuttering as silent tears spilled down his cheeks and into your hair.

“I hate this,” he said, his voice muffled in your shoulder. “I hate that I’m saying this.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, his eyes red-rimmed and shining. “Then don’t. Tell me to stay. Tell me that we deserve that apartment together”

He stared at you, lips parted, like he wanted to. Like the words were right there on his tongue. But instead, he shook his head slowly, heartbreak carved into every line of his face. “I can’t. I love you too much to ask you to give up on something like this.”

A sob escaped before you could stop it. “I don’t want to go without you.”

Jake cupped your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “You won’t be without me,” he whispered. “I’ll be there in every facetime call. Every late-night text. Every time you drink coffee and think it’s crap without me there to make it right.”

You laughed through the tears, and then he kissed you. Slow, aching, like a promise and a goodbye all at once. You kissed him back with everything you couldn’t say, everything you weren’t ready to lose.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless and trembling, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. We’ll find our way back.”

You nodded, eyes closed. “You and me, right?”

His arms tightened around you, like he could still protect this fragile version of the future. “Always.”

He didn’t speak to you for two days.

No texts. No calls. No shared playlists or silly memes. Just a hollow silence that made your heart pound every time your phone lit up, just to close it every time it wasn’t him.

Then, just after sunset on the second day, your phone buzzed.

Ring Doorbell: Someone is at your front door.

You opened the app instinctively, and there he was, Jake, standing on your porch in a wrinkled hoodie and basketball shorts, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes were bloodshot red. Not just tired, but swollen, rimmed with tears, and haunted.

Your heart seized.

You rushed downstairs and opened the door.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he should be here. Like maybe this was a mistake. Then his face crumpled.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, and his voice cracked like glass.

You stepped forward without thinking, wrapping your arms around him before the rest of his words could fall apart.

“Jake…”

He held onto you like he was drowning. “I tried to be okay. I really did. I thought maybe I could just… move on, pretend we’re still going together. But I can’t. I’m so fucking proud of you, but I don’t know how to be happy when it feels like I’m losing you.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Then don’t let me go,” you whispered. “Tell me to stay. I will.”

He blinked at you, tears spilling silently over his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” you said, chest aching. “I’ll stay. Melbourne was always the plan. We were the plan.”

Jake shook his head. “No,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You have to go. Please go.”

“Jake—”

“No,” he interrupted, brushing the hair gently from your face. “You got into Stanford. You earned that. You don’t give up a life-changing opportunity because some dumb boy can’t keep it together for a few months.”

“You’re not some dumb boy,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly, but his eyes were still sad. “And you’re not some girl who settles for a smaller school for someone else. You’ve always been more than that. You have to go.”

You stood there for a long moment, forehead pressed to his, your tears falling freely now too.

Eventually, you stepped back and took his hand. “Come inside?”

He nodded, and you led him through the door, into the quiet warmth of your house.

You sat together on the couch, knees pulled up, wrapped in an old shared blanket that smelled like his cologne and dryer sheets. He rested his head on your shoulder, and you stroked your fingers through his hair like you always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“I hate that we have to do this,” he mumbled. “The distance.”

“I know,” you said.

“But we’ll make it work, right?” he asked, more like a plea than a promise.

“We’ll try,” you whispered. “We’ll call every night. We’ll visit. We’ll find ways to stay close, even when we’re far.”

His arms tightened around you. “What if it’s not enough?”

“Then we try harder,” you replied, kissing the top of his head. “Or we wait. Or we fall apart and find our way back. But I’m not giving up on us, Jake. Not now.”

Neither of you had all the answers. Maybe you never would. But in that quiet moment on the couch, your hearts cracked but still beating in sync, you held each other like maybe, just maybe, love could stretch across the oceans and time zones.

Like maybe, it would be enough.

The airport was too quiet for what your heart was doing.

You stood with Jake in the check-in line, the weight of your suitcase nothing compared to the weight pressing on your chest. He held your hand like it was the last lifeline he had, like if he let go, he’d lose you completely.

Neither of you spoke much. There wasn’t anything left to say that hadn’t already been whispered between your tangled sheets, or mumbled on long drives with the windows down, or even scribbled into notes hidden in each other’s bags.

But that didn’t stop the tears.

Yours came in slow, steady streams down your cheeks. His were silent, but his lips trembled every time you squeezed his hand tighter. People passed around you, families saying goodbyes, kids running in circles, airport staff calling for final check-ins, but it all felt so far away. Like the world was moving on and you were frozen in this endless moment.

“We still have time,” he murmured, though the line inched forward, traitorous.

“Barely.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like your house, like him, like safety.

“I hate this,” you whispered.

“I know.”

He kissed your temple. “But I’m proud of you. So proud. I need you to remember that.”

You nodded, biting your lip so hard it almost bled.

When you reached the counter, your hands shook as you handed over your passport. Jake stood beside you the whole time, his fingers trailing down your arm like he was memorizing every inch. The agent smiled politely, completely unaware of the heartbreak unfolding across the glossy countertop.

As you stepped away, the intercom crackled to life.

“Final boarding call for Flight 127 to San Francisco. All remaining passengers, please proceed to Gate 7.”

Your body turned toward the gate, but your heart stayed behind.

Jake pulled you into one last hug, full and trembling. You felt his tears finally fall, warm against your neck.

“This isn’t goodbye,” you whispered, but it cracked as you said it.

“It feels like one,” he choked out.

“I’ll come back in December. I pinky promise.”

“I’ll wait,” he said, holding you like he’d never get to again. “I’ll wait for however long it takes.”

You pulled back just enough to kiss him once, twice, and again like you could kiss the goodbye out of him. He smiled, for your sake, even though his lips were shaking.

“Go,” he said softly, eyes red. “Before I lose my mind.”

You took one step back. Then another. You didn’t want to look away, but you knew if you didn’t go now, you never would.

So you turned.

And you walked.

And you didn’t look back.

But Jake did.

He watched you until the very last second, until you were out of sight, until the boarding gate swallowed you whole.

And then he broke.

His body crumpled into a seat by the window, hands over his face as sobs tore out of him, raw and relentless. Strangers passed by, but none of them saw him. None of them knew the girl he loved just left for another continent, or how he’d told her to chase her dreams even if it meant tearing himself apart.

He’d been brave for you.

But now, all alone in that airport, he cried like he’d never stop.

Because he loved you that much.

[littlemelaninfics]

Consequences || Buddie x Reader Smut

“Did she eat?”

“Earlier.”

“Water?”

“Yup.”

Their voices were muffled, but you tried your best to hear them through the blindfold wrapped around your head. You understood how you ended up with your vision cut off and limbs tied to the bed, but that didn’t mean you have to like it.

“Wow, Buck. You really need your superior here in order to punish me properly?” You said with a condescending tone and a shit eating grin. Your grin turned to a scream when you felt a large open palm connect with your thigh.

“FUCK!” You shrieked out.

“Quiet.” You didn’t know whose hand landed, but you could tell their voices apart and Eddie was not trying to hear anything from you.

He had been called in to cover someone which left you and Buck to your own devices. It was all fine until the games came out. Words were said and cards were now strewn all over the living room. You were not the best loser, but you knew he was cheating and you were over it.

It got even worse when his entire demeanor changed and told you to clean them up. One or the other would’ve been fine, but the tone of his voice mixed with the demand flipped a switch in your head and you went full crash out. Buck then promptly walked you to the bedroom, guiding you in and closing the door with both of you on either side of it. You couldn’t believe your eyes when the door clicked shut in your face. Buck came back in less than 4 minutes later with bondage devices and a blind fold.

You chuckled at his attempt to be scary or threatening which earned you a love tap to your right cheek. You instinctively swat his had away and he takes the opportunity to grab your wrist and lead you to the bed. He still hasn't said a single word, leaving you to bury yourself deeper with your snide remarks and comments. He used his strength to overpower you and finally had your arms chained above your head. You kept giggling and making comments even though you were becoming more and more anxious for what was to come. You'd never seen him this mad, but you were too far in to break character and apologize now.

With Eddie now home, Buck caught him up on the shenanigans that took place that day and he was livid. Why? Because you knew better and this is not the first time you've been told to watch it. For you to be incapacitated by Teddy Bear Buck was a new low you had never reached. Well, not in these kinds of predicaments. It was always fro fun with him.

Your thigh was still tingling from the impact when you heard Buck say you got mad because you were losing the game. That's when you inturrupted once more,

"That's not true! I got mad because you were cheating!" You couldn't hear anything but thudding footsteps into the bedroom. The stopped right next to you when you felt a cloth like matieral prying you lips open,

"Didn't I say to be fucking quiet?" Eddie snarled through his teeth and right into the shell of your ear. Buck and Eddie finished their conversation and both entered the room. Someone pulled the panties from your mouth,

“Y/N,” Eddie said, his voice low and dangerous. “We need to talk.”

You smirked, shifting slightly in your restraints. “About what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Buck stepped forward, his patience worn thin. “The hell you haven’t. You’ve been a brat all day, pushing every limit and testing every boundary. You think this is a game?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to lift your head back to see them from under the blindfold, “Oh, please. You two are overreacting. I was just having a little fun.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his presence commanding. “Fun? You think disrespecting us, ignoring our rules, and acting like a spoiled brat is fun? You’ve crossed the line, Babe, and now, you’re going to pay for it.”

“Pay for it?” you echoed, feigning innocence. “What are you going to do? Spank me? I’ve had worse.”

“Buck,” Eddie said, his eyes locked onto your covered ones, “this is your call. You want to teach her a lesson?” Buck’s jaw tightened, and she caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I think she needs to understand that this isn’t a game anymore.”

“Fine. Let’s see how she likes it,” Eddie said, a dark smile creeping onto his face. As Buck stepped back, you felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Okay, okay! Let’s talk about this!” But Buck was already moving, grabbing a small paddle from the nightstand. The sound of it swishing through the air sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you.

“You wanted to play, right?” he asked, the challenge evident in his tone. “Buck! Wait! I was just joking!” you protested, but the smirk on his face told you he wasn’t in the mood for jokes anymore. “Too late for that,” Eddie said, his voice low and gravelly. “You wanted our attention, you’ve got it.”

The first smack echoed through the room, sharp and decisive. You gasped, the sting igniting your senses. “Fucking hell!” you yelped, the sound escaping before you could hold it back, but Buck wasn’t done.

“Count them,” he ordered, his voice steady and unwavering. “One!” you squeaked, a mix of fear and exhilaration flooding through you. Eddie leaned closer, his presence enveloping her.

“This is a reminder, Y/N. We don’t take disrespect lightly.” With each strike, you felt the tension in the room shift. The stakes were raised, and you were learning the lesson the hard way. “Two!” you gasped, the thrill of it all igniting something deep within. When you finally got to 10, tears where streaming down your face, the blindfold soaking up the rest that didn't dare to fall. Buck removed the satin tie from around your eyes, taking you a second to get back adjusted to the light in the room.

Your cheeks burned, not just from the sting of the paddle, but from the shame that coiled in your stomach. Tears welled, blurring the sight of Eddie and Buck as they loomed over the bed. "You think those licks were bad, brat?" Eddie's voice was a low growl. "That was just a warm-up."

"Please," you choked out, the word barely audible. "I'm sorry. I won't—"

"Too late for apologies," Buck cut you off, his eyes glinting with a hunger that made your skin crawl. "You pushed us too far, Y/N. Now you face the consequences." Your heart hammered against your ribs as Eddie reached for your wrists, tightening the restraints against the bedposts.

"No! Don't—"

"Shut it," Eddie snapped, his fingers digging into her flesh. "You're going to learn some respect, one way or another. What's your safe word?"

"Fire." you said meekly.

"Good girl." they said in unison.

[kittenlittle24]

Appendicitis

GIF not mine, comment, like and reblog!

Masterlist

Rushing to the hospital after your son woke up from a nap crying from a stomach ache and fever, you went to Princeton-Plainsboro knowing only there are doctors you can trust.

Your son has been complaining about stomach aches all morning, your husband already left for work, thinking it was just a bug you let him stay home and rest. However when he woke up screaming and crying and with a fever you made the decision to go in.

A young male doctor greeted you. One you never met before nor heard of.

He asked him to lay back but you stopped him before he could examine him.

“I want you to page Dr Gregory House.”

Sighing and rubbing his head, “Miss, Dr. House is very busy and he doesn’t treat kids with belly aches.”

Crossing your arms, “He will treat this kid. Page him or I will march straight to Dr. Cuddy.”

Still crying, your son tugged on your shirt, his other arm wrapped around his stomach, “I want my daddy.”

You hugged him and stroked his hair, while the doctor left the examination room.

You tried everything in your power to calm him down, though nothing helped.

Around 20 minutes later the door opened and the same young doctor entered the room. Standing from your seat, “I told you I want Doc-“

“Yeah, yeah, doctor House is here,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.

He limped inside, once he saw who it was that demanded his presence, a serious look set on his features. Gently he maneuvered your son to a lying position to examine his stomach.

He looked up at him, “Daddy, my tummy really hurts.”

The young doctor froze in shock, mouth gaping open.

“I want complete blood and urine tests. Also, get an X-ray and ultrasound of the abdomen and chest,” he ordered the doctor before he turned to you, “Seems like Appendicitis, a surgeon will operate to take out the infected appendix. This is called an appendectomy. Usually, surgeons make 3 small cuts in the belly and use a small device called a laparoscope to remove the appendix. He’ll probably get to go home today.”

Leaning down he kissed the top of the boy’s head and moved to hug you, he whispered words of comfort and encouragement, saying you did good by bringing him. He stayed close to you the whole time, only leaving to monitor the tests are doing properly and keep your son calm.

A brunette doctor sat next to you and handed you a mug of coffee. Thanking her you took a big sip and put your hands around the warm mug.

“So you’re house’s wife?”

Shrugging, “We never married but I think it’s as close as it gets.”

“And he’s his son?”

You both looked up upon hearing a hard fake cough interrupting her interrogation.

“If you’re done grilling her Dr. Cameron you could make yourself useful anywhere else.” He told her and took her seat after she left the waiting room.

Putting his arm around you, he pulled you to lean on his chest. About a torturous hour later a surgeon came out to say the surgery went well and your son is being moved to a recovery room.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you let yourself collapse into House’s arms, finally feeling the stress leave your body. He kissed your temple and rubbed your arm, “He’s fine, probably going to demand unreasonable amounts of ice cream for being brave.”

Laughing you turned to kiss him, “He can have it. Thank you,”

Scrunching his eyebrows, “Are you thanking me for doing my job or being his dad?”

You shook your head, “For putting up with me.”

[ericshoney]

Study Buddies ~ Peter Parker

Summary: Whilst studying with Peter, you have some spies making sure nothing bad is going on.

Warnings: Chaos

Reader's Age: 15

The hum of the Avengers Tower vibrated gently through the floor as Y/n, perched on the edge of her bed, chewed on the end of her pen. Physics was not her strong suit. Across from her, Peter, masked in concentration, scribbled furiously in his notebook, occasionally muttering equations under his breath.

"Okay, so potential energy… it's like, stored energy, right?" Y/n asked, her brow furrowed.

Peter looked up, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "Exactly! Like a stretched rubber band. The further you pull it, the more potential energy it has."

"And kinetic energy is when... it's moving?"

"Bingo! Like when you release that rubber band and it snaps."

Y/n nodded slowly, trying to visualise it. Having Peter, a fellow teen Avenger, as a study buddy was infinitely better than trying to decipher the textbook alone. He had a knack for explaining things in a way that actually made sense.

Unknown to them, just outside Y/n’s reinforced door, a silent comedy of errors was unfolding. The Avengers, in varying degrees of stealth, were attempting to eavesdrop.

Tony Stark, naturally, was in the lead, armed with a ridiculously high-tech listening device that looked suspiciously like a souped-up stethoscope. "Alright, people, quiet! We need to monitor the situation."

"Monitor what situation, exactly, Tony?" Natasha Romanoff drawled, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Two teenagers are studying. I hardly think we need a full-scale surveillance operation."

"Oh, come on, Nat," Clint Barton whispered, peeking through the crack in the doorway. "They're fifteen. Hormones are raging. We have a responsibility to ensure… appropriate behaviour."

Steve Rogers, ever the voice of reason, sighed. "Don't you think this is a bit… invasive?"

"Invasive?" Tony scoffed. "I call it proactive parenting. Besides, Happy's on vacation. Someone has to keep an eye on things." He pressed the listening device against the door, then winced. "Ow! My ears! They're actually studying! And Peter's explaining it. He's a good kid."

Inside the room, Peter was demonstrating the principles of kinetic energy with a crumpled-up piece of paper he'd launched across the room. "See? Potential energy, crumpled paper. Kinetic energy, paper being launched! Simple!"

Y/n giggled, snagging the paper and throwing it back. "Okay, okay, I get it! But what about the gravitational constant? That's where I'm really lost."

Outside, the Avengers exchanged uneasy glances. This was far more innocent than they had anticipated.

"Maybe we should… leave them to it?" Steve suggested, already backing away.

But Tony, ever stubborn, shook his head. "No, no. We're committed now. Besides, I want to see if Peter can handle thermodynamics. That's the real test."

He adjusted his stethoscope, inadvertently knocking against the door.

The door creaked open slightly. Y/n, alerted by the noise, spun around. "Hello?"

Tony ducked behind a potted plant, accidentally upending it and sending soil cascading across the hallway. Clint, caught in the crossfire, yelped as dirt went down his shirt. Natasha, maintaining her composure, simply glared at them both.

"Everything alright, Y/n?" Steve called out, his voice betraying a clear lack of conviction.

Y/n opened the door wider, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. Tony, covered in soil, clutched the broken remains of the potted plant; Clint, brushing frantically at his shirt; Natasha, radiating disapproval; and Steve, looking utterly mortified.

"What… what are you guys doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Peter, emerging from behind her, blinked in surprise. "What's going on?"

The Avengers exchanged panicked glances.

Tony, ever the master of improvisation, cleared his throat. "We were… uh… checking on the… the structural integrity of the doorframe! Yes! We heard a… creaking sound. Safety first, you know."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Right. And the dirt?"

Clint chimed in, "And I was checking the strength of your door lock."

“With dirt?” Y/n said. “You covered yourself with dirt to check the strength of a door lock?”

"Occupational hazard?" Clint offered weakly.

The silence stretched, broken only by the rustling of leaves as the uprooted plant lay on the floor. Then, Y/n couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.

Peter joined in, quickly understanding the absurdity of the situation.

Even Natasha cracked a small smile.

"Okay, okay," Y/n said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I get it. You guys were spying on us."

Tony, defeated, sighed. "Fine. You caught us. We were just… concerned."

"We trust you both," Steve added quickly. "It was just… well, you know Tony."

Y/n grinned. "Don't worry, I'm not mad. It's actually pretty funny. But next time, maybe just ask if we need anything. We're fine, I promise. Just studying."

"And failing miserably," Peter added with a grin.

"Well, in that case," Tony said, regaining some of his usual swagger, "Maybe I can help. I did invent a few things in my day, you know." He pointed at the scattered dirt. "First, let's get that cleaned up, then maybe a little physics lesson from the man himself."

And so, the Avengers, slightly sheepish but ultimately relieved, trooped into Y/n’s room, leaving their espionage behind. The atmosphere lightened, and for a while, the world's mightiest heroes were just a group of people helping two teenagers navigate the complexities of high school physics. Even if it did involve a lot of dirt.

Tags:

@riowritesitall @mandmilovehim @parkjihoonsnudes @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @lgbtq-girl

Dividers by: @issysh3ll