#that are months late and I need to get around to

[rynwrites4fun]

Across The Hall (9) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x F ! Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: You and Michael now live parallel lives—close in distance but distant as strangers. After a school field trip to the zoo, you get injured and are rushed to the Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center, straight to Michaels ER.

Word: 4971

Warnings: Age Gap (Mid 20s/Early 50s), Head Injury (Factured Skull), Bleeding from the ear, and Vomiting

Authors Note: Hello! Thank you for all the love on the last part. Lol I love seeing your guys comments and reactions. They crack me upppp. Couple more parts and this fic with come to a end🥲. Depending on season 2 maybe I'll write a spin off/Continuation of some sort 🤨??? or maybe I'll leave a good thing be. Idk this is all up in the air and just ideas. If I did continue it won't be until next year YIKES. Long way from now. But if you guys want it i'll prob do it lol very much a people pleaser �� also determined to finsihed eyes on me lol okay anyway. enjoy!!! - ryn

3 Months Later

Since that day—that morning where it ended—you and Michael had kept your distance. It wasn’t easy. Living across the hall meant you still saw each other constantly. You crossed paths in the elevator, passed in the lobby, caught glimpses through cracked doors. But it was different now. Cautious. Careful. The warmth was gone.

It was like reverting back to how things were in the beginning—only worse. Not acquaintances. Less than that. Strangers.

There were no more lingering glances, no more easy conversations or shared errands. No more moments where he helped you without being asked, like he just knew. Now it was all stiff nods and the occasional muttered “hey” or “hi,” as if everything between never happened or existed.

Your lives—once a single, tangled line—had split. Still running close, still crossing the same thresholds, but no longer connected. Now they moved in parallel. Close enough to feel, never close enough to touch.

You missed him. Not just being around him—but him. The version only you knew. The one who stayed late, who looked out for you, who let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

Now, it was like he barely looked your way. Just quick hellos, if that. And even those felt heavy.

Still, every time you saw him, you wondered if he missed you too.

And maybe—just maybe—you knew he missed you too.

But neither of you said a word.

Michael had been the first person to remind you what it felt like to be truly cared for. Losing that connection hurt deeply. But even without him, you were learning how to stand on your own. You are in a better place

After years stuck in a toxic, neglectful relationship with Aiden, you finally chose yourself. No more waiting to be seen or heard. You were rebuilding, piece by piece—stronger, quieter, more certain.

It was something Michael said the last time you saw him that stayed with you. His voice was calm but firm: “You need to figure yourself out. Really figure it out. What you want, what you feel… why you push people away when they treat you the way you deserve. Because if you don’t, you’re just going to keep hurting the people who care about you.”

Those words gave you the push you needed to walk away.

After breaking up with Aiden, the silence was deafening at first. No shouting, no blame, no empty promises—just quiet. And for once, that quiet felt like space you could breathe in, not suffocate.

You weren’t completely free yet. There were days when memories clawed at you, when loneliness crept in like a shadow. But with each morning you woke up without him, you felt a little stronger. A little more whole.

And Michael? Seeing him after everything—it wasn’t easy. There was a tension, a distance between you that hadn’t been there before. You still felt guilty for how things ended with him. But beneath it all, you knew one thing: his words had helped you find yourself again. Even if your connection had changed, that truth remained.

—

This morning, you had left your apartments at the same time, walking side by side in silence. No words. No eye contact. Just the sound of your footsteps echoing down the hallway—too close, too quiet.

He let you step into the elevator first, then slipped into his usual corner—like always. The space between you felt heavier than it should’ve in such a small box.

And every time you rode the elevator with him now, your mind drifted back to that morning. The one where everything shifted. The one where he had looked at you like he couldn’t wait another second. Where his hands trembled on your skin and nothing else existed. That morning where—for a moment—you both stopped pretending.

Now, you only pretended. Pretended not to miss it. Pretended not to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Pretended he wasn’t right there, close enough to touch, but choosing not to.

Then, suddenly—you don’t know why—you turned your head and glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a small, uncertain smile on your lips.

Michael stood there, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, AirPods in. He didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Normally, he’d say hello—or at least acknowledge you—but today wasn’t one of those days.

Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

But he had.

Because the truth was, he missed you. Every time he saw you, felt your presence so close yet unreachable, it tore at something inside him.

But talking—to break the silence—meant opening a door he wasn’t sure he could close. It meant risking everything he’d been trying to hold together.

The silence in that elevator was suffocating.

The doors slid open.

You stepped out first, heart pounding, words caught in your throat. By the time the two of you made it through the lobby and out to the street, you found yourself saying, “Have a good day.”

Still, he ignored you.

Without a word, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

—--

It had been a good day.

There was a field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo, and the fifth graders had been buzzing with excitement since they got off the bus. They darted from exhibit to exhibit in loose clusters, calling out animal facts they half-remembered from class, pointing at the gorillas, giggling at the flamingos, and dramatically gagging when they passed smelly enclosures. 

You smiled through the chaos, constantly scanning the crowd, reminding them to walk—not run—while answering a steady stream of “Can we go there next?” and “Do we have to stay with our buddy?”

By the time the group began gathering near the exit to prepare for departure, the kids were hot, tired, and still somehow full of energy—trading animal facts, snacks, and complaints about the long walk back to the bus.

You turned to check on one of your students—and your foot caught on a backpack left sprawled across the pavement.

You didn’t even have time to brace yourself.

You went down hard.

Your head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Everything went black for a moment.

You passed out for a few minutes before slowly waking up. When your eyes opened, your other 5th grade teachers and your students gathered around you, worried. 

A sharp pain pulsed through your head. When you touched the side of your face, your fingers came away wet—your ear was bleeding.

You tried to sit up, but your body felt heavy and unsteady. Panic flickered in your chest.

“Are you okay, Miss?” a student asked, voice trembling.

You forced a small, shaky smile. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure.

One of the teachers noticed the blood coming from your ear when you touched it. They knew something was wrong—you needed to get to the hospital.

You tried to protest, insisting you were fine, but the other teachers wouldn’t hear it. Their concern was firm—they knew you needed medical attention. They called an ambulance, and took care of your kids as you headed to the hospital.

“Okay, we’re headed to PTMC,” the driver said to his partner in the back with you.

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. No. You didn’t want to go there. Michael worked there.

“What? N-no, can’t you take me to Allegheny?” you asked, your voice shaking as you glanced up at the paramedic trying to stem the bleeding from your ear.

“Miss, PTMC is closer. Allegheny is too far,” the paramedic replied, his tone calm but unyielding.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you hard. Before you could stop it, you threw up—your body reacting to the pain and shock.

The paramedics quickly handed you a bag, their expressions gentle but focused. Your head throbbed fiercely, and the thought of seeing Michael at PTMC made the room feel even more overwhelming.

You swallowed hard, gripping the stretcher tightly as the ambulance doors shut and the vehicle started moving. Outside, the world blurred past the windows, but inside, your mind spun with pain, fear, and an ache far deeper than the injury itself.

—-

It was busy in the ER today—loud, chaotic, the usual blur of motion and noise. Monitors beeped steadily in the background, gurneys rolled down hallways, voices called out orders and vitals in clipped tones. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mixing with the sharper tang of adrenaline and urgency.

Michael worked hard and efficiently, his hands steady and his voice calm as he checked charts, issued instructions, and answered questions. Every task was precise and practiced. But despite his focused exterior, his heart wasn’t fully in it today. Beneath the surface, his mind drifted elsewhere.

For some reason, you were heavy on his mind—ever since he saw you that morning in the elevator. Though he went about his work with his usual efficiency, every time he glanced up or caught a quiet moment, his thoughts slipped back to you. That brief encounter stirred something beneath his calm exterior, making it harder than usual to focus.

Even as he moved through the chaos of the ER, you lingered in the corners of his mind—a quiet weight he couldn’t shake. Each task felt automatic, mechanical, like he was running on autopilot 

At the nurses’ station, Dana glanced toward Michael as he passed by, pausing briefly. His eyes scanned the triage monitor for a moment before he continued on his rounds.

“What’s his vibe today?” Dana asked, peering over the top of her glasses as she flipped through a stack of charts.

Jack didn’t look up from the computer. “Full-on rain cloud.”

Dana let out a quiet laugh. “That bad?”

Jack finally glanced up. “Yeah. Barely talking. Just doing his rounds like a ghost.”

Dana frowned slightly. She hadn’t had a real catch-up with Robby in a while.

“I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything beyond patient loads and charts in weeks,” she murmured.

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. He’s been keeping things tight. You can tell he’s holding something in… and it’s not just stress.”

Dana sighed, looking up from the computer. “It’s been—what? Three months since they stopped talking?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, watching Michael enter an exam room. “He’s doing okay. Better than a few months ago, for sure. But I think today’s one of those days where he’s really missing her.”

Jack added quietly, “It’s hard to tell with him sometimes. He’s always been good at hiding what’s really going on.”

Dana didn’t respond right away, distracted by the faint sound of sirens growing louder in the distance.

“Looks like a bus just pulled up,” she said, glancing toward the ambulance bay.

Jack turned, following her line of sight. Through the glass doors, he spotted the rig backing in, its lights still flashing. The paramedics moved quickly, unloading a gurney from the back, getting ready to wheel someone inside.

“I got it,” he said, already moving toward the doors.

“Alright, what do we got?” 

Jack reached the stretcher as the paramedic began briefing him. 

“Mid-20s female, teacher on a zoo field trip. She tripped over a backpack and hit her head on the pavement. She lost consciousness briefly after the fall. There’s blood coming from her ear. She vomited on the way here and reported dizziness and nausea and is currently somewhat disoriented.”

“Exam Room 13’s open!” Dana called out as she overheard part of the paramedics’ briefing.

The gurney rolled past the nurses’ station in a blur of motion—wheels rattling, footsteps fast. Dana glanced up from her charts and files to get a quick look at the incoming patient… and froze.

Her eyes widened, recognition flickering across her face as she stood up straighter, instinctively stepping out onto the floor. Her heart skipped. Her eyes narrowed, trying to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

It was you.

You looked pale, out of it—a plastic bag clutched in your hand, vomit on your shirt, and a smear of dried blood trailing from your ear. But it was unmistakably you.

The same woman she’d seen, playing around with Michael in aisle 9 of the grocery store fighting over cookies. 

Jack was already directing the paramedics to Exam Room 13, calling for trauma supplies as he moved alongside the gurney.

Dana stood abruptly, eyes darting around the ER. Looking for Michael.

Shit. Where’s Robby? Which wing did he go? She thought.

“Jack!” she called, rushing after him. She fell into step beside him as they wheeled you. 

“What?” he asked, not slowing.

“It’s her!” she hissed, voice low but urgent.

“Who?”

“The friend-neighbor-almost-something-—her,” Dana said, eyes wide. “Robby’s girl.”

Dana watched as Jack’s head whipped to face her. His expression shifts—from confusion to clarity, then to something dangerously close to dread.

Jack stopped short, turning just in time to see the gurney disappear into Exam Room 13. His expression changed instantly.

He looks at Dana again “That was her? Are you sure?” 

“Yes!”

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack didn’t hesitate. “We need to tell him.”

Dana’s brows knit. “Are you sure? After everything… you know how torn up he was…well still is” she trailed off, uncertain. “I mean, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes,” Jack said firmly. “He still cares about her, still feels things for her. You know he does.”

Dana hesitated, lips pressed into a line.

“He’s not over her, Dana. Not even close. No matter how messy the fallout was, he’d want to know. And if he finds out she was here and we kept it from him…”

“He’d never forgive us,” Dana finished, already nodding.

Jack’s jaw was tight. “Exactly.”

“Look I’ll take care of her, find him as soon as you can and tell him. Okay?” 

“Alright” they quickly went off in different directions. 

—

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead felt like too much—too bright, too sharp—cutting through the fog in your skull. Your stomach churned again, sour and unsettled. You’d already thrown up in the ambulance, the evidence smeared across your shirt, and the nausea still clung to you, heavy and unrelenting. It was like your body couldn’t decide if it was in pain or panic.

The nurse—Princess, according to her badge—helped you onto the exam table from the gurney, guiding you gently as you sat down.

“Let’s get you settled,” she said calmly.

You nodded, though the movement made your head throb and your stomach turn.

Princess moved with calm precision, wrapping a cuff around your arm to check your blood pressure and attaching monitors to track your vitals. She was already prepping the IV, her hands steady, practiced.

“Pressure’s a little low,” she murmured, mostly to herself, then offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You closed your eyes as the needle slid into your arm, trying to focus on her calm voice instead of the pounding in your head.

She grabbed a damp cloth and gently began wiping the vomit from your shirt, doing the best she could to clean you up while keeping you comfortable.

“You’re doing okay,” she said softly. “Just stay with me.”

Princess noticed the shift in your expression—the way your face paled. Without a word, she grabbed a plastic basin and placed it gently in your lap.

“Just in case,” she said softly.

A moment later, the door opened and a man stepped in, wearing navy scrubs and a calm, focused expression.

“I’m Dr. Jack Abbot,” he said as he approached. “I’ll be taking care of you today.”

Jack

The name stood out. Michael’s friend—he’d mentioned him a couple of times. Quick stories, casual references. You never met him, but the name stuck.

Now here he was, standing in front of you. And suddenly, it all felt just a little more real.

To Jack, you were more than just another patient. You were her—the neighbor, the teacher, the one Michael couldn’t stop thinking about. The one who shattered him.

He was torn. Part of him wanted to resent you. Another part couldn’t help but feel sorry—for both you and Michael. It hurt watching Michael suffer in silence, burying his feelings under layers of composure. But there was sadness for you too—because Jack knew you were still clinging to something broken. A relationship that should’ve ended long ago.

But none of that mattered now. He needed to take care of you—not only because it was his job, but for Michael. 

You and Jack locked eyes. Neither of you spoke, but something passed between you—an unspoken recognition. You both knew each other through Michael, even if you’d never met before. And in that silence, there was a quiet acknowledgment of everything that wasn’t being said.

“Let’s get you checked out,” he said gently.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He pulled on a pair of gloves and waited patiently as you gathered your thoughts.

“I tripped over a student’s backpack. I fell… hit my head on the side,” you said, your voice a little shaky.

Princess, at the computer nearby, typed quickly, capturing every detail.

“You passed out? For how long?”

“I don’t know. No more than 5 minutes?”

“And you feel nauseous?” Jack takes notice of the dried blood from your ear. 

“Yes” He brought his hands up, feeling your head, and then he felt it. A squishy part on the side of your head. 

Shit. 

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he gently pressed around the swollen area, careful not to cause more pain. His mind raced—without a CT scan, he knew the injury was serious. How severe, though, remained uncertain.

“Okay, stay still for me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We need to get a CT scan to find out exactly what we’re dealing with.” He says to the Princess, but also to you.

You nodded, swallowing hard, the dizziness and nausea pressing harder with every breath.

Princess looked up from her computer. “I’m alerting neurology and radiology now.”

Jack forced a steady breath, trying to stay composed though inside, worry tightened its grip.

Your stomach lurched, and you vomited into the plastic basin Princess had handed you earlier. Jack stepped back slightly, giving you room but keeping his eyes locked on you, watching for any sign of worsening condition.

Princess moved quickly to help, she handed you a clean towel and quietly assured you as you wiped your face.

Princess stepped over, grabbing a pair of gloves and a warm saline wipe.

You flinched as she dabbed gently at the dried blood near your ear, trying not to let it sting. 

“Sorry,” Princess murmured, careful and quiet.

Jack watched closely but because the signs were impossible to ignore. The dried blood near your ear, the squishy spot on the scalp, the nausea and dizziness—they all pointed to something serious. Possibly a skull fracture.

Until the scan came back, there wasn’t much he could confirm. But in his gut, he already knew this wasn’t minor.

He reached for a chart from the counter, flipping it open and beginning to write. His pen scratched quickly across the paper, but he kept looking up every few seconds—checking your breathing, your pallor, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Princess adjusted the bed slightly, propping it up so you could sit comfortably. She hands you a new plastic basin. She takes the used wipes and throws it in the trash along with her gloves and goes to wash her hands. 

You glanced at him, searching. “Did… did Michael send you?”

Princess moved to gather the extra materials they hadn’t used, placing them neatly on the supply rack. Her movements were quiet, efficient, but her attention never strayed far. She listens closely. 

Jack shook his head. “No. Robby doesn’t know you’re here… at least not yet.”

At that, Princess froze for just a moment. She didn’t know the full story, but it was clear you and Michael were connected. Her eyes flicked to Jack, widening slightly. A silent exchange passed between them—brief, but unmistakable.

Jack sighed inwardly. He knew exactly what she was thinking—the bet she and several other staff had made a few weeks ago at the bar about Michael having a girlfriend. Now was not the time.

His eyes locked onto hers, sharp, silently warning: Don’t even think about it. He shook his head slightly.

You hadn’t noticed the exchange. Your eyes closed, feeling dizzy, your head throbbing. The words slipped out before you could stop them. “That’s the last thing I want.”

Princess gave an innocent, almost playful raise of her eyebrows, but beneath it was something calculating. She grabbed a chart out of Jack's hands and scurried out of the room, leaving a faint echo of footsteps behind her.

Jack remained still, watching her retreat. His jaw tightened, mouth pressed into a hard line. In the ER, whispers traveled faster than code blue alarms—money and rumors would be swirling in less than a few minutes. 

Jack exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief second. He’ll deal with it later he tells himslef.

Jack leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied you—pale, clearly worn down.

You swallowed hard, the dizziness still buzzing faintly at the edges of your mind.

“I don’t want to make things harder for him.”

“He’ll know,” Jack said quietly, his voice flat with certainty. “He’ll come rushing in here once he finds out—I guarantee it.”

“He likes you—a lot, cares for you deeply” he said, matter-of-fact, like it was the plainest truth in the world. “I’ve seen him talk about people before—patients, colleagues, even exes. But never like this.”

Your eyes flicked open. Jack wasn’t looking at you anymore.

You didn’t interrupt. His words caught you off guard—soft but heavy.

“With you… it’s different,” Jack said. “He’s not the guy who makes big declarations. But his actions? Loud as hell.”

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours—not confrontational, just honest.

“That day—after everything fell apart—he barely said a word.”

Jack’s voice dropped. “He didn’t say much. But I’ve known him long enough to read between the lines. Michael’s the silent type. Shove it down, suffer alone. That’s always been his way. He doesn’t fall easily. And he sure as hell doesn’t bounce back quickly.”

And didn’t you know it—you ruined what you two had. You looked down at your hands.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said.

Jack finally met your eyes. There wasn’t anger—just a tired kind of clarity. “Maybe not. But it still happened.”

There was no heat in his voice. No judgment. Just the truth.

“He’ll handle it. He always does.”

He backed toward the door.

“My instinct is to tell you to continue stay away from him... keep the distance. To protect him.”

A beat.

“But even with all that… there’s a part of me that still hopes it works out between you two.”

He held your gaze.

“If there’s even a small chance you feel the same—don’t waste it.”

Then, firm again, “But don’t show up in his orbit unless you’re sure.”

“I’ll be back to get you for the CT scan. If you need anything, press the call button.”

And with that, he was gone.

—

Dana had spent the last several minutes searching—looking for Michael. The constant rush of the ER had kept her moving nonstop, priorities shifting by the second as new cases rolled in. Between the noise, the pages, and the demands of back-to-back emergencies, she hadn’t had a spare moment—until now. Finally able to look, she peeked into each exam room as she passed, also scanning for Michael.

Finally, she spotted him. 

Standing in the doorway, she called out, “Dr. Robby?”

Michael was looking up from the chart he was filling out while Victoria Javadi, the med student currently shadowing him, checked the patient under his supervision.

“Can… I talk to you outside?”

Michael glanced at her, then back at Javadi.

“Hold it down here. I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a nod before stepping out into the ER floor with Dana.

“What’s up?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Dana swallowed. “Robby, she’s here. Exam Room 13.”

“Who’s here?” His brow furrowed, clearly not understanding.

“She’s here,” Dana said again, slower this time, her eyes locking onto him.

Then it hit him.

His stomach dropped.

You’re here.

“W–what?” he said, hard and sharp, disbelief cutting through his voice.

“The bus pulled in a while ago-"

“How long ago?!” His voice rose, sharp.

“Half an hour—she hit her head. Took a fall during the field trip—”

Michael’s heart skipped, then kicked into overdrive. He didn’t wait for the rest.

He turned on his heel and bolted, weaving through the ER, past gurneys, staff, and startled patients.

He barely registered people calling his name.

Didn’t care about the chart he’d left behind, the patient waiting for him at 7 with Victoria, or the conversation he’d been having seconds ago.

All he could hear was Dana’s voice echoing in his head.

She hit her head.

His hands were already trembling. Thoughts circled like vultures—loud, fast, frantic. He didn’t know how bad it was. Was it minor? Maybe. But probably not—Not if the ambulance brought her in.

And then another thought struck—hard and bitter.

He’d ignored you this morning.

You’d smiled at him. Said, “Good morning.” Told him to have a good day.

And he hadn’t said anything back.

He’d brushed past you like you didn’t matter. And now—now this.

His chest felt tight. His feet moved faster.

Room 13. Room 13. Room 13.

Nothing else mattered. Not now.

Because you were here.

And you were hurt.

 He rounded the corner too fast, nearly slipped—caught himself—nearly crashing into Jack as he stepped out of Exam Room 13.

“WOAH!” Jack exclaimed, throwing an arm out to steady them both.

“Robby—”

“I gotta get to her—I” Michael said breathlessly, trying to push past him.

Jack grabbed his shoulders, holding him in place. “Stop, she’s gone.”

Robby froze. His heart plummeted, eyes going wide as the blood drained from his face. He couldn’t breathe—he just stood there, stunned, like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Jack’s eyes widened as he realized. “Oh—shit—no! Gone as in, not in the room! I took her to her CT scan!”

Michael’s breath shuddered out of him. He stumbled back a step, dragging a hand down his face.

“FUCK, Abbot!” he snapped, voice hoarse. “Next time, maybe lead with that!!!”

Jack winced, “Yeah. Okay. Fair. Sorry!” He says quickly.

Michael looked like he was about to break. Without hesitation, Jack grabbed his elbow and pulled him inside your exam room, closing the door behind them.

Jack softened. “You want to sit for a second?”

Michael shook his head, jaw tight. “No. Just… give me a minute.”

His chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. He turned away from Jack and leaned heavily against the wall, one hand braced flat against it while the other gripped his thigh. For a long moment, he stayed like that—bent slightly at the waist, eyes squeezed shut—trying to catch his breath and slow his racing heart.

Then, with a trembling hand, he reached under his scrub top and T-shirt and pulled out the gold Star of David necklace he always wore—small, worn, and mostly hidden. He rubbed it between his fingers, clutching it tight in his calloused palm like a lifeline.

With his eyes still closed, he drew in a shaky breath, as if trying to summon strength from somewhere deep inside—something steady, unyielding.

Jack said nothing. He didn’t need to. He just watched, quiet and still, letting Michael have the space to come back to himself.

Michael straightened slowly, collecting himself.

“She’s okay?” Michael finally forced out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s conscious. Talking. But I’m pretty sure she has a skull fracture—I just don’t know how severe yet. We’re gonna have ro wait on the CT to tell us more.”

Michael’s face went pale. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Jack softened his tone. “Listen, Robby… I know this sucks. It’s scary, but you’re not alone here. We’re doing everything we can, as fast as we can. She’s tough, and she’s got the best care possible.”

He paused, then added, “It’s us. This team, this hospital—we make it work. You know that. You’ve been part of holding it together more times than I can count.”

Michael’s jaw twitched, but his eyes flicked up—just for a second—as Jack continued.

“She’s in good hands. Our hands.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.” But there was no real conviction in his voice. 

Jack glanced at Michael, his expression firm but not unkind.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, Robby,” he said quietly. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

Michael’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor, jaw still tight, hands flexing at his sides.

Jack’s voice softened. “And as much as I hate to say it… you’ve got to pull it together and do your job. For now. Until she comes back from CT. We’ll know more soon.”

Michael closed his eyes for a beat, breathing through the heaviness in his chest. Then he nodded—barely.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

Jack glanced around. “It’s busy today. You know how it is—we’ve got to stay on top of everything, keep things moving.”

Michael knew Jack was right. As much as it tore at him, there was nothing more he could do right now.

So he did the only thing he could—he took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and began to shift the panic into focus. Into control.

He would see you when you came back from CT. Until then, he’d do his job. Just like he always had.

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Across The Hall | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

[reminiscingthesea]

Part three of yandere stalker Phainon x nerdy reader !!

A/N- i don’t know how many times I’m gonna say this, but ty guys sm for all the support and love ive been receiving under comments!! I really enjoy reading them!!

Part 1 and part 2!:

Warning- Contains smut, reader is inexperienced, insecure thoughts, foul language, manhandling, AFAB reader

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It had been some time since that incident, and it was safe to say, you were truly shaken to your core. Luckily, your boyfriend best friend Phainon was here to help keep yourself safe during such difficult times. He walked with you to your lectures, even if it meant being late to his, he accompanied you whenever you went out, especially at later hours, he messaged you everyday, asking things like how you were, what you ate, if he needed to come over, if you needed a cry or a laugh. The two of you spent hours on the phone, too. Going to sleep on call and waking up to burning hot phones and a time reader that read- “7:46:50”- He was truly too good for you, and it made you doubt yourself. Did he truly like you? Was he still giving mixed signals? Was he doing this out of the kindness of his heart, or because he felt as though he had a duty to as your best friend?

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“.. Phainon, you’re too good to me- taking me out to dinner at such an expensive restaurant and not letting me pay you back? I really don’t deserve this, your kindness..” You spoke timidly, keeping your eyes down on your plate of delicious, well seasoned food- which was lobster Thermidor with a side of cute, buttery bread buns that were oh-so soft. You felt a small rush of heat dust onto the skin of your cheeks as Phainon gently interlocked his hand with yours from the other end of the table, leaning his head down to get a glimpse of your face, a small, loving smile gracing his lips.

“C’mon, don’t say that.. we’ve grown so close together over these past few months, and it’s nearly the end of the semester, you know I like treating you to nice places for dinner.” He spoke softly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, before continuing. “I like treating my closest to dinner, and you’re very close to me, [Name]. Never forget that.”

You looked at him with slightly widened eyes now, taking in his deep words. Was this his way of confessing his love for you? No, it couldn’t be. Phainon treats all of his friends to lunch and dinner, but not normally at a price like this..

“I don’t know what to say, Phainon.. I’m so, so grateful to you, you’ve helped me so much. But please listen to me. Don’t waste your time on someone like me. You deserve someone better, prettier, outgoing- I just make things awkward between us since I’m not as chatty with you, I..” Sighing shakily, you looked at him with tears welling in your eyes. “Just please, tell me how I could ever repay you.. you’ve saved my life countless of times, I’m truly indebted to you..”

Phainon looked back at you with an equally as sad look, he looked like a kicked puppy who was left in the rain by its owner.

“I understand that such traumatic events will alter your view on your worth, make you feel bad about yourself. But [Name], when I tell you that you truly mean so much to me, I mean it. You don’t have to believe me right now, but I’ll wait. Albeit, sadly. But as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” How he wanted to confess to you right then and there on the spot, but he himself had his own doubts that he just couldn’t wrap his head around as to why he had them.. he had removed every obstacle in his way- your bullies, Mydei, danger- and had your trust and respect for him. So why now was he so hesitant? Was all of this for nothing? Was he worried you’d reject him due to your beliefs on how he’s too good for you?

Even then though, he had a small thought at the back of his head that told him ‘Don’t confess, and you’ll only hurt her more.’

You could only nod and carry on with the rest of your dinner, a somber, dejected look on your face, and he copied too. The rest of your dinner was awkward to say the least. Neither of you looked each other in the eyes, only sneaking quick glances when the other wasn’t looking, nor did the two of you talk, until the bill came- to which Phainon paid the whole sum of 10,500 credits, as you gave him a pouty look from across the table.

As the two of you walked out and begun making your ways back to campus, you clutched his wrist delicately.

“Phainon. I promise to pay you back, okay? Just don’t reject it, please..”

To this, Phainon could only laugh quietly and turn to face you fully. ‘You could pay me back with your love’ he thought to himself as he began speaking.

“Oh, fine. Since you’re so stubborn and such a sweetheart, I’ll let you pay me back. But! At a discounted price of 50% off. I don’t make the rules.”

You sputtered slightly and shook him, shaking your head.

“50%?! I can’t pay you back only 50% of the money you spent on me today!” You exclaimed, a crazed expression on your face as you tried to get him to change his price to a higher one.

“Oh? 50% isn’t a good enough percentage? Oh fine, since you’re such a good negotiator, I’ll let you pay me a maximum of 25%! A minimum of 0%, is allowed though.” He teased lightly, winking and grinning as he saw your face morph into a more frustrated one.

Suddenly, you shoved a bunch of credits to his chest and grabbed his hands to clutch them

“Look. I wanna do something nice for you to pay you back. I won’t let you win this either- so just take the credits and this’ll all be over.” You concluded confidently, as the pair of you reached your campus’ entrance and walked right in. You had a dead-set, stubborn look on your face as you walked back to your dorm, and Phainon could only laugh in adoration as he stuffed the credits into his wallet.

“Oh alright fine! You win! I’ll stop ruffling your feathers and let you pay me back tenfold. But just know, I’m gonna be spending even more money on you next time! And ah-ah-ah! Don’t even think about taking it as an opportunity to pay me back even more, I won’t let it happen!” He declared loudly in the otherwise empty hallway besides the two of you standing outside your dorm room. ‘He’s so perfect..’ you pondered to yourself quietly, before flashing him a small, sweet smile. But there was a hint of sadness behind it, and Phainon saw.

But before Phainon could talk to you further, you quickly said your goodbyes and waved him off, before disappearing into your dorm room.

Phainon stood there, an unreadable look on his face as he stared at the now closed door in front of him. How badly he wanted to break that door down and make you love him just as he loved you. But he simply, couldn’t bring himself to do so.

How pathetic of him.

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Sitting at his desk, he opened his computer screen to monitor your activities through the camera in your room. It was something he hadn’t done as often as before, considering how much closer the two of you became over these last few weeks. Though, he made a mental note to sneak in another camera from a different part of your room, just for better… angles. The mirror might be a good option!

However, the sight that absolutely blessed his dirty little eyes of faux purity, was truly a sight to behold.

It was you, on your bed, with nothing but a shirt on. Your panties were long discarded on the floor, and so too was your bra, assuming it was the soft blue pair of underwear laying on the floor just a few meters from his bed.

Immediately, blood rushed to his cock as he pulled it out from his shorts, quickly rubbing his hand up and down over its generous length, his thumb gently teasing his tip, the same way he gently rolled it against the back of your hand before. His mouth agape, eyes lidded as he continued watching the footage reverently.

But what got him really going, was when you brought two fingers to your pussy, which he obviously couldn’t see considering the camera’s placement on your headboard behind your bed. But it had an elevated view, so he saw how the two fingers gently eased their way into your cunt slowly, whilst your thumb teased at your clit.

“F-fuck..! fuck, so- mmghh…” You moaned softly, rocking your hips to no specific beat, as your finger on your bud worked harder to provide more stimulation. But after a few moments, your loving moans turned into whines and whimpers of frustration and sadness. Phainon, who was edging himself to hear your moans, heard this change, causing a pout to adorn his gracious face.

“Oh, [Name].. you must be having so much trouble trying to please yourself… if only I was th-“

“If only you were here, Phainon… you’d make me feel so good….”

Oh.

oh.

To this, Phainon immediately stood up from his desk, eyes widening and face flushing. The shock was enough to send him over the edge, cum spewing onto the table in front of him. He bent over the table, his head tilted upwards to look at his computer’s screen as you continued your strings of moans of pleasure, but also sadness. He began rubbing his cock, now hot, sticky, and even harder, much faster now, your moans and his creating a beautiful symphony.

Finishing with a gasp, he buried his face in his arms, breathing heavily. However, you were still touching yourself, moaning weakly, trying to reach your peak of pleasure like the guy behind the camera, but nothing.

“..Poor [Name].. unable to please herself without my guidance?..” He whispered softly to himself, slowly getting up to his full height and looking down at the computer screen of you pathetically trying to please yourself, whilst also murmuring degrading comments about yourself in the process.

“Nobody gets to hurt what I love. Not even yourself.. I will show you my love for you, [Name].. I’ve been stupid enough to deprive you of it for so long…” His fingers gently caressed your form on his computer screen, a hint of sadness behind them.

He knew what he had to do. He had to show you his soaring love for you, a love that knew know bounds, a love that he starved of you by his own insecurities. He hurt you, and he was going to change that.

He began cleaning his desk.

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You sobbed pathetically into your pillow, you couldn’t do it. God, you were so bad at everything, even at pleasing your own cunt. You couldn’t even do it yourself, you needed someone- someone who you probably doesn’t even like you-. Feeling the wetness of your cunt beneath your ass now, you let out a shaky sigh, on the verge of bursting into even louder cries of frustration and disappointment.

Amidst your tantrum, you heard loud, firm knocks on your dorm room’s door. Scrambling to get your clothes back on, you messily made it to the door, not caring about your appearance besides having some clothes on. Your hair was a mess, your face was flushed and wet with tears, your lips and legs quivering as you opened the door to see Phainon.

“P-Phainon- I’m sorry I don’t look good-“

“Let me in, [Name]. We need to talk.”

He pushed himself past you as you closed the door, before his hand met your wrist and pulled you close to him, pinning you against the wall near a table. Your vision became blurry as your eyes darted across the room in shock. Phainon’s hand cupped your face, turning it to face him fully as he spoke.

“I’ve held this for too long. [Name], I love you. I’ve loved you this entire time. And I know you love me too, you were just too scared to say it. Ever since… ever since we met, I’ve always thought about you, the things we’d do together as a couple. Kisses, romantic dates, cute things.. I need you. And you need me too. You’re perfect for me, and I’m perfect for you.” His voice was quiet and husky as he spoke, his face so close to yours, your lips almost touching his as he spoke. Your eyes widened, tears brimming in them once more, your mouth agape.

“Ph..Phainon.. I love you- I love you so much- you don’t know how happy I am to hear this I-“ Without thinking, you crashed your lips against his, capturing him in a soft kiss. You’ve never kissed anyone before, but this felt right, as he reciprocated just as fervently. Phainon then deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he pinned you harder against the wall, his knee coming up between your legs, his hand tangling into your hair.

You could only moan softly in response as you grinded needily, helplessly, against his knee, seeking the pleasure you’ve been so starved of all this time. With a few deep gasps of air from you and him, his mouth took refuge on your neck, his head burying in the crook of it as he mouth began sucking and leaving large love marks on the soft skin.

“Gonna show you my love for you, yeah? Gonna fuck it into you for being such a good girl and waiting all this time for me..” He picked you up off the floor, your arms wrapping around his neck, as your legs wrapped around his waist, before carrying you back to your room.

He laid you down on your bed carefully, before peeling your clothes off, one by one. His touch was worshipping, reverent, his eyes never leaving yours. He smiled softly to himself as he took your pants off, breaking his gaze with yours as he glanced at your panties, the same light blue ones that were discarded on the ground just a few minutes ago.

As he peeled off your panties, revealing your glistening cunt to him, he threw it aside, along with the rest of your discarded clothes on the floor besides the bed. He took his shirt off, making way for his muscular, defined torso and body. You swore you saw stars in that moment, heat creeping up onto your face as your hand unconsciously lifted up to caress the firm skin there. Phainon chuckled, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Like the view?” He teased playfully, a smug, but loving grin on his face as your eyes met with his once more. He lightly took your hand and interlocked it with his, before coming back down on you and kissing you softly, his hair tickling your cheeks as he did so. Whilst you were so caught up with the kiss, you didn’t catch his free hand running up your thigh, creeping near towards your ever growing, wet pussy, teasing the sensitive flesh around it.

You squirmed as his toned, but slim fingers began teasing the entrance of your cunt’s hole, almost rimming it with the pad of his fingers, before gently siding them in.

“Phainon!~” You gasped sweetly, holding onto his hand tighter as his fingers worked their magic within the gummy walls of your hole. Your hips jerked slightly as his thumb rubbed the ever-so sensitive bud of your clit in circular motions. He smirked to himself as he felt your walls tighten so nicely around his fingers, it almost made him cum again, as he thought of how much tighter you’d wrap yourself around his needy, greedy cock later on. But he had to prepare you first. After all, what’s love without passion and care?

His fingers then began increasing the speed of their thrusts, curling up gorgeously within you, hitting such sweet spots, making you squirm and whimper in pure pleasure. Tears began flooding the shape of your eyes once more, moans being robbed from your throat as his thumb worked even quicker ministrations against your clit. The knot deep within you grew tighter, so so tight, about to snap- until his fingers curled deeply and hitting a sensitive spot in you- before you moaned his name loudly- squirting and coming undone right then and there, all over his hand.

You saw white for a few moments, your gaze glassy as you came back to reality through Phainon’s hand gently stroking your arm.

“Look at you.. so needy and desperate for me.. you squirt like a whore, but you seem inexperienced” He mused to himself, basking in how your expression changed from pure ecstasy to embarrassment and slight shame.

“I am inexperienced, so what? You think someone like me’s gotten game before..?” You replied hastily, a slight bite behind your tone as you spoke, to which, Phainon only smiled apologetically.

“I’m not shaming you, I’m more than honoured to be your first. I’ll never let you forget this.”

He pulled his fingers out, which were now coated in your secretions and slick, before licking them clean, ravishing the taste. Then, he pressed a chaste kiss against your cheeks and lips, as his head began pressing sweet kisses along your collarbones, going down, down, down, until his face was met with your sopping, heavenly pussy. He’s always wanted to taste you like this. Make you squirm in delight and pleasure as his tongue would work wonders against the skin of your beautiful cunt.

He didn’t wait for a response as he dived right in, his warm tongue coming out and rolling against your clit, making you jerk your hips up again in delight and satisfaction. He roughly held them down with his hands on each bone, before lifting your legs up over his shoulders for better access. He revelled in the way your thighs tightened around his neck, closing in as his tongue inserted itself into your dripping pussy’s hole, making quiet slurping noises against the flesh, bringing his hand back to stimulate your poor clit again. Your movements and squirms only made him eat you out quicker, more devoutly, aiming to please you and only you as you drew closer to falling over the edge.

“P-phainon- Phainon! I-I can fucking feel it I- please..” He could tell you were coming closer to the edge once more, and the ministrations of his tongue and fingers only quickened in response. Your hand gripped onto his pearly white locks tightly as you grew even closer to cloud nine. And then, with a sharp jerk of your hips against his head, you came all over his mouth with a loud cry, throwing your head back in delicious pleasure, your hips grinding against him as his tongue obediently lapped against your pussy, taking in all of your smooth, rich, sweet cum, coating his lips like lip gloss. He hesitantly pulled away from the comfort and warmth of your pussy and legs, carefully setting them back down on the bed, caging him in, his hand caressing the soft skin of your trembling thighs.

“You taste amazing.. you need a taste of yourself.” He whispered against your ear now, bringing his head up and kissing you again, your essence invading your tastebuds; a foreign taste.

“Phainon, wanna make you feel good too..” You spoke sweetly, getting up and pushing Phainon down into a sitting position. He moved to a side of your bed, as you got off and got onto your knees, beginning to remove his pants hastily.

“Someone’s desperate” He teased again, spreading his legs for your better access as you pulled his pants down, now staring at the giant bulge protruding through his boxers. You then pulled them down, before being met with his girthy, thick, big cock, which bobbed against his abs. In a nervous daze, you grabbed it with you hand softly, kissing the angry red tip that leaked sweet precum all over it.

“It’s really big..” You whimpered, slowly stroking his length, tightening your hand around it for more pleasure. Phainon laughed faintly, grabbing onto your hair, his grip tightening slightly as you jerked him off faster, his head lolling back a little.

“Gonna make you feel good too..” You promised, before slowly taking in his whole dick in your mouth, your cheeks puffing out from his great size, as it filled up your throat. With soft gags and moans, you began sucking him off, tightening your mouth and throat around him and bobbing your head up and down.

To this, Phainon moaned your name loudly, throwing his head back as he pushed his length further down your throat, pushing your head deeper, his grip on your hair becoming even stronger. Just as he dreamed, you looked up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes of yours as you’d suck him off, mouth full of him, your sounds of struggle and gags playing a part in sending him over the edge.

“Fuck.. you suck cock like a whore too, you’re so- fuck, ah~.. good at this, aren’t you? I’ll p-pay you back… tenfold-“ He uttered loudly as he was nearing his peak of pleasure. Feeling his cock pulsate in your throat, you tried sucking him off faster, until his thick, warm, gooey cum filled your mouth, to which you immediately gagged at, taking his cock out your mouth and gagging slightly. The taste wasn’t something you were used to, of course not. So as you coughed up the cum, Phainon lifted you up off your legs and onto his lap, rubbing your back as you coughed up.

“Shh.. you sucked me off so fucking good. Wanted to make me feel all good too? What a sweetheart, hm?.. You want my cock to fuck your sensitive, tight pussy? Yeah?” He continued praising you as he moved the two of you back to the head of the bed. He was now sitting beneath you as your hands met with the headboard above your bed, your face leaning right next to the camera there.

But he wasn’t worried about that right now, as your legs caged him by the his sides next to his hips, your pussy just above his cock.

“P-Phainon.. what if it doesn’t fit?” You asked worriedly, now taking in his full length with your eyes as you looked down at him and his cock, your eyes meeting his face, which had a look of love and affection painted onto it.

“You’ll be fine, you’ll take me in just good, y’hear?”

With enough reassurance, Phainon held your hips as you slowly, carefully, aligned your cunt’s entrance with the head of his cock, and gently lowered yourself onto it. You cried out as he stretched you out, feeling his whole size fill you up within a matter of seconds. And once you had fully engulfed his cock, you bottomed out, crying in pleasure, almost about to cum just from the feeling of his cock inside you.

“See, taking me like a champ. Now, start riding me, just move your hips like that- yes, fuck.. you’re so good…”

You rocked your hips, moving up and down on his cock, pants of pleasure coming out of your mouths, your own eyes rolling back at the pleasure as you rode him. You sped up your riding to let him cum quickly, still eagerly wanting to please him just as he did with you before. As he moaned in pleasure and held your hips with a bruising grip, he looked up at you with pure reverence and admiration in his eyes. The way your eyes rolled back, or closed in pleasure and determination, the way your hair fell over your face, the way you bit your lip in pleasure, trying to hold back your moans.

But he could see you were growing restless and tired as you bounced and rode him quickly, trying to make him feel good.

“Phai..non.. I’m so tired- I’m sorry- couldn’t make you feel good..” You sobbed pathetically, your voice soft as you sniffled in familiar frustration, the ache in your thighs and hips growing less dull and quiet, and more pronounced and intense.

At this Phainon shushed you gently, coaxing you to move a bit and change your position, so that you weren’t hunched over the headboard, and instead, sitting over him, cock stilled within you. He then, without a word, lifted you effortlessly by your hips, as if taking you off his cock, before slamming you right back down onto it, his tip now hitting the spongey sweet spot within you. You threw your head back in shock and surprise, a cry of pleasure ripping from your throat as tears ran down your cheeks, your mouth agape. But he wasn’t done, as he now kept moving you up and down manually on his cock, feeling his high coming back, as well as yours with how you tightened around him in the cuddling embrace of your slick, warm, gummy walls. Even louder moans and cries sounded from you, all the more desperate and pleasing as you both drew closer. His groans mixed with your cries like a hymn sung by the divine angels above.

Then, with a final upwards thrust of his hips into you, you collapsed over him, both of you cumming onto one another. He felt your warm cum coat his cock, as his own thick seed painted your walls comfortably. Panting against his chest, you couldn’t help but grind weakly against him in overstimulation and tire, moaning tiredly.

Phainon breathed out a sigh of relief and pleasure, before lifting your head up to look up at him.

“We’re not.. we’re not done yet. You’re gonna feel every last bit of my love for you, [Name].”

With that, he pulled out and flipped you over onto your back, so that you were beneath him once more. He grabbed your limp feet and put them over his shoulders as he inserted his dick into you once more, eliciting a loud moan from you in response. He interlocked his hands with yours as he fucked you like this, taking pure delight and pleasure in the way your face contorted into a bonny look of delectable bliss. Your tongue lolled out as your eyes rolled back yet again, sweet, pornographic moans ringing out from deep within your throat as he fucked you hard and fast. You truly could feel the love behind his hard thrusts as he hit you in all the right spots with his greedy, monstrous cock, which would elicit even louder moans from you. You cried out in even more overstimulating pleasure as you came again, shattering into pieces as he placed a soft kiss against your one of your ankles next to his head on his shoulder, making you squeeze around him like a glove.

And then, just as he was about to cum in you, he pulled out and spew his release all over your tits with a laugh, painting your pretty breasts with his load.

“Oh dear.. I’ve made such a mess, haven’t I? I’m so clumsy, let me clean it up for you..” He voiced, his tone mocking and playful as he leaned down and stuck his pink tongue out once more, before licking and sucking one of your nipples clean from his cum, fondling and tweaking the other with his other hand.

“A-ah!~ Haah..~ Phai- fuck!… Phainon please-!~” You sobbed out, unable to take even more pleasure and satisfaction as he sucked on your sensitive nipple, pulling it out with a satisfying ‘pop!’, creating a more reddish colour to its skin, before moving onto your other tit, licking it clean of his cum as you whined his name arousing-ly. It was all enough to make you cum again with an exhausted cry, your back arching upwards off the bed.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, [Name], my perfect girl.. love you so much, doll.. you tired now?..” He asked hotly against the shell of your ear again, peppering sweet kisses against the skin near it. Unable to speak properly, you simply nodded your head and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down next to you on the bed, cuddling him and letting his warmth comfort you, as the smell of sweat and sex lingered in the air around you. But the two of you didn’t care at the moment, only holding each other, with Phainon spooning you and rubbing your sore legs.

After a while, you both came back to your senses from your dazes on cloud nine, looking at each other with love in your eyes.

“I love you, Phainon..”

You cupped his face in your hands, rubbing his cheeks and squishing them, making his lips pucker out. You kissed his silly looking lips, and Phainon could only smile in response.

“I love you too, [Name]. But right now, we have to clean ourselves up, we stink.” He joked lightly, his tone now taking up its more lighthearted and bright side. He giggled as you whined about being too tired and sore to move.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you, silly” He then picked you up delicately in a princess carry, taking you to your bathroom and setting you down on the edge of the bathtub, before turning the water on and filling it up with warm water. He then, with your permission, added in some of your bath soak- a sweet vanilla scent- and mixed it all in until the water turned all bubbly and pretty. Dipping you in first and following through, with a sigh of satisfaction at the warm water, he pulled you towards him and let the warm water soothe both of your aches and sore spots.

“Thank you..” You mumbled quietly, giggling as he started washing your hair for you with your bottle of shampoo, following suit with his own hair.

“You’re gonna smell like vanilla and strawberries once you get out of here, Phainon” You joked playfully, causing him to pinch your cheek softly

“I wouldn’t mind. At least I’d be able to have your scent all over me where ever I go”

Laughing quietly, you let him pamper you, massage the knots and kinks from your back and thighs as the two of you would wash each other. Each of you putting the other’s hair into a soft bun as the conditioner was added in.

“You look silly, Phainon” You giggled, seeing the tiny ball of sopping white hair sit atop his head due to him having shorter hair than yours.

“Only for you, my love” He responded, kissing the top of your head and tucking it into his chest as the two of you sat in the heat of the warm waters.

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After some time, Phainon got out to clean up the mess you two had made on your bed- to which you protested until he’d simply shut you up with a kiss and tease you about how cold it was outside the water. Not before long, he came back into the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and another in his hand. Picking you up, he patted you dry with the towel, with teasing, lingering touches in some areas, and wrapping the towel around your form, leading you to your now spotless, fresh smelling room.

“Sorry, I don’t have any clothes for you..” You spoke ashamedly as he helped you dress up into some lighter clothes now, to which he only responded by smiling slightly.

“I’ll be fine with wearing my other clothes, unless, you want me to sleep naked?” He now had a smug little grin on his face, but you knew his words held no actual lust behind them as his eyes were full of a familiar kindness and love.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind the view, but I don’t want you waking up with a fever in the morning.”

And with that, you were both cuddling in your now cleaned bed with new sheets and all. He had his sweatpants on from before, as well as his shirt, and you had your comfy pajamas on. He spooned you as he did before, tucking your head under his chin in the crook of his neck as you drifted off slowly to the feeling of his soft, pink lips peppering sweet kisses all over your face, his legs and arms tangled with yours.

“I love you, [Name]. I’m so glad everything worked out in the end..” He breathed out, before succumbing to the land of dreams himself, feeling the nighttime air of the open window gently making its way in and cooling down your room.

You were all his now, as he has always been yours from the start.

[blooddlusts]

MANCHILD ⋆｡°✩ lee heeseung

( WHY YOU ALWAYS COME RUNNING TO ME ) ── ex boyfriend!! lee heeseung x fem! reader

synopsis: in which you awkwardly cross paths with your ex-boyfriend. and for him to pick up a desperate phone call when you needed it the most (read part one here)

fic notes: ex boyfriend! lee heeseung x fem! reader, suggestive language, cursing, angst, a little bit of reconciliation, very slowburn interactions

kiara's notes: due to popular demand, y'all asked for a part two. y'all can thank my bestie @nocturnebite for actually helping me come up with a happy segway into this story because i was prolly gonna make it more angsty lmao. if this needs a part three —feel free to yell at me (it prolly does)

word count: 2.7k

his phone number blocked, the pictures of you both ripped in two and thrown in the trash. every memory of his face, of his lips kissing your skin, his laughter ringing in your ear —erased, deleted, gone. that was the end of the chapter between you and lee heeseung. and perhaps it was better off that way.

it had been months since you had last spoken to him. while you promised yourself that it was't a big deal, the hole in your heart was begging to be filled, replaced with someone else. it took some motivation to get yourself out of bed, to try going out to clubs, to put makeup on and make yourself presentable in public. he had made you an emotional train wreck, which meant dragging your shaky feet out on the ground to find the confidence that had seemingly left your body the day that he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

and while the confidence returned —your luck with finding a better boy to date seemed physically impossible. no literally. the saying "there are other fish in the sea," must have been a lie. because the men on your dating apps, the men that approached you at clubs, were absolutely horrendous in every way possible. that's not to say that they weren't attractive (in fact, many of them were drop dead gorgeous) but you could spot their imperfections from the first date.

if heeseung had done one thing right, it was for your eyes to be open to the men that would sit in front of you. from the way they ate their pasta to the way they would snake an arm around your waist. the attention to detail made it so easy for you to reject another date, you didn't want to pursue another romantic relationship if they were going to be the same as your ex-boyfriend. but the one thing that lee heeseung had cursed you with was the magnetization. no matter where you went, you were always attracting the same type of men. the "man child" and it was fucking annoying.

they were the ones that played hard to get, the ones that like to linger and make you squirm in your seat wondering if you were going to be given the chance to go on a second date. the ones who promised to pick you up for dinner at seven only for you to be sitting in your living room almost an hour later, wondering when they would show up. the ones who talked passionately about their own hobbies without even batting an eye when you spoke on your success. you don't know what you did to attract such a form of men —but it was completely exhausting.

you prayed that they would be different. so maybe that's why you found yourself getting ready for another date. another dude from another dating app you were on. he didn't seem like a "man child" (but that was just your optimism speaking). and yet, you found yourself waiting in the lobby of your apartment, looking at the hands on your watch tick forward. he was late —of course he was.

"you look nice,"

his voice was unexpected. like a random bolt of lightning striking a clear summer day. it immediately took you out of your bored dazed as you looked up to see him staring at you. how many months had it been since you'd see his face? how many times had you spent trying to block him out of your head? surely, this was a figment of your imagination —but the tiny smile that touched his lips professed that the man standing in front of you was real.

"um thanks," you awkwardly replied, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you politely accepted his compliment.

the silence that between the two of you was as thick as a slice of texas toast. after all, what was there to say? how could you casually strike up a conversation with someone who casually threw your heart to the side?

"are you going on a date?"

"something like that, if he's planning on showing up," you scoffed as you looked down at your phone. no new messages, brilliant.

"how are things with your going with your girlfriend?" you asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject. you were mentally begging that your date could show up any minute now to save you from the jaws of the awkward conversation you were forced to be in.

"we broke up,"

great, so much for making the conversation less awkward.

what were you supposed to say? "i'm sorry that you two broke up?" you weren't. in fact, there was some form of satisfaction knowing that things with his ex-girlfriend didn't work out again. and yet, you found yourself awkwardly shifting in your chair praying that some sort of words could slip out of your lips to answer heeseung.

"oh..."

"...yeah,"

as much as you were curious to know why the relationship had ended. you had no choice but to plant a tiny smile on your lips and let out a sigh of relief as your phone screen lit up. saved by the bell-ish. the likelihood of this date being better than your previous ones seemed unlikely but it was better than spending any more time with heeseung. those were minutes you were never going to get back.

"well, that's my date," you said as you got up from your seat and smoothed out your dress. for a minute, you could have sworn that there was a tiny grimace on his face when he heard those words slip out of your lips. but it was almost immediately replaced with a faint smile. it had to be your imagination.

"it was nice seeing you heeseung,"

and with a polite smile, you walked out of the lobby with confidence in your footsteps, masking the sinking pit of anxious feelings that swirled in your stomach. you had a date to worry about and yet, he was there crawling his way back into your mind like a parasite.

it had been so long since you'd last seen him. so why out of all places did you have to see him now? more importantly, what was he doing in the lobby of your apartment building?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

your date was going horribly. not much of a surprise there. after being picked up forty minutes late, your date reeked of cologne. not that his cologne smelt bad, but it was like the man practically bathed in it. he was chivalrous enough to open the car door for you —that was about it. he chewed with his mouth open, he would constantly interrupt you when you had anything to say, and let's not forget how his phone wasn't silenced so you could hear the tinder notification constantly beeping on his phone.

you couldn't even keep track of what he was talking about. you were just waiting for the bill at this point. you were already planning on calling an uber instead of letting him drop you back at your place. the last thing you needed was his lips covered in pasta sauce trying to kiss you —ew.

"well, this has been a fun date but i should probably go home now," you started to say as you watched the waiter place the bill down in front of you. your date didn't even pay attention to what you had said, he took one glance at the bill and looked back up at you.

"aren't you going to pay?" he asked.

"excuse me?"

that was a quick slap to the face. now he was really racking up the points for being the worst date you've had. picking a fancy ass restaurant and expecting you to pay? of course, you should have picked up the sign sooner. there was a card on the dashboard of the car he picked you up in that was from some car rental business. he decided to pay for the most expensive bottle of wine and gorge himself on an expensive plate of food. great, another man child.

"i asked you out on the date, the least you can do is pay for the food," he replied casually while wiping the pasta sauce off of his chin.

"you've got to be fucking kidding me. is this what you do to all women that you take out on a date? order the most expensive meal and expect them to pay for it?" you snapped as you glared daggers at you date.

the fact that he didn't say anything made things even more upsetting. all he did was blink at you, as if you should have known this was how the date was supposed to go. "look, it's not that big of a deal. besides, i promise i'll make it up to you once we head back to your place," he said as he tried to place his hand on top of yours.

"oh really? is that what you think is going to happen? that i'm invite you back to back to my place and i'm gonna let you fuck with that tiny thing you call a penis?" you grit your teeth before getting up from your seat.

"go call your parents and ask them to help pay for your meal," you said as you opened your purse and threw some cash down in front of him. "here's my half of the bill," you added on before walking out of the restaurant, leaving behind your date jaw dropped and confused.

you stepped out of the restaurant into the darkened sky. the only thing lighting up the world in front of you were the city lights and the billboards that illuminated advertisements of happy smiling faces beaming in fluorescent colours in front of you.

while you should have felt relieved that you called it quits with that dude that just wanted to get in the sheets, there was something about this date that was the last straw. they were all the same, all of the dates that you had been on were just stupid men seeing you as another way to get their body count up. it was fucking disgusting. you craved the romantic life, you begged to be loved again, you wanted—

—and in that moment, your impulsiveness took over. you found yourself fishing your phone out of your purse, your hand going to the settings, clicking on a blocked phone number that you had memorized by heart, and pressing the call button.

you paced around in circles. a thousand thoughts accumulating in your head as you continued to hear the phone ring in your ear. until you heard his voice on the other line.

"hey, do you think you can pick me up?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the car ride was completely silent. no questions asked, no small talk to be made, just you two sitting with the radio as ambience to fill the void that was between the two of you. you didn't think he was going to answer, let alone pick you up. yet, you found yourself in the same car with your ex-boyfriend, with lee heeseung, the man you swore you never wanted to see in a million years —all because some stupid date went horribly wrong.

for the first time in a while, you felt like you could actually breathe. like you could sit back and pause in a world that was constantly moving. or maybe it was because you were in a car with someone that you had once been vulnerable with, someone that you had completely poured your heart and soul to. whatever the reason, you were able to rest your head on the side of the window and relax in the passenger seat.

"so, do you want to talk about what happened?" there it was. the moment that you weren't necessarily dreading, but knew that was going to happen. it was only a matter of time before he was going to confront you about the situation. or why you decided to call him up out of all people.

"not really," you muttered. you refused to make eye contact with him. one look into those doe-like eyes and hating him was a lost cause. you couldn't give in to him that easily.

"it's just, all of these dates that i've been going on are awful," you started as you finally moved your head away from the window and turned to look at him. "i mean, every guy i've been going out with these past couple of months have been the same. i'm so sick of attracting men that act like children!" you groaned as you threw your hands up into the air.

heeseung only chuckled as you finally started opening up to him again. there was something about seeing your face getting all red and flustered that made his heart skip a beat. he wanted to tell you, he needed to tell you—

"—he asked me to pay for the meal, hee. the dude literally ordered the most expensive meal on the menu and expected that i was going to pay—"

"—you called just me hee,"

you paused and turned to look at heeseung who was staring directly at you. thankfully you two were at a red light, so it wasn't like any car was going to come crashing into you but still. the nickname had slipped out of your tongue so casually that you didn't even notice yourself say it. but he did.

you didn't say anything to him after that. it was an instant "keep your lips" quiet moment after that. he caught you slipping once, you weren't going to let it happen again. so when he drove into the parking garage of your apartment complex you couldn't help but eagerly take off your seatbelt.

"well, thanks for the ride," you said already moving to open the car door. but before you could make a swift exit, heeseung was already out of the car, outside opening the door for you.

what was this feeling that was swelling up in your chest? you should be hating him right now. yet, you didn't shoo him away when he started to walk with you up to your apartment. he didn't say anything, just had his hands in his pockets, keeping his eye out for anyone that seemed suspicious. it was the tiny things that made your heart continue to skip a beat, even when you knew that you shouldn't.

"you know you didn't need to walk me to my door," you said as you fished your keys out of your purse.

"i know, i just figured that maybe it would save you from any other creeps trying to hit on you," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"i appreciate it, heeseung. thanks for picking me up tonight. i honestly didn't think that you were going to pick up the phone,"

"well i'm glad i did. i've missed talking to you,"

you could only nod and smile at his comment. and then came the awkwardness that you two were so familiar with. it's not like you could give him a hug, or the usual kiss on the cheek when you first started dating. you two were just strangers, exes that picked up the phone for one small favour. nothing more nothing less.

"have a good night, heeseung,"

"sweet dreams,"

and while you watched him walk down the hallway as you stepped into your apartment, your stomach was greeted with the same pit of butterflies fluttering around. you shook your head, you couldn't fall for him again, that would mean neglecting everything that he had done. the way that he had taken your heart, smashed it into a million pieces and left you lying trying to fix everything he had broken.

but he answered your phone call.

you watched him turn the corner, a sigh escaping your lips before you closed the door behind you. now was not the time to catch feelings for the man that had cursed you to find every "man child" in the city. now was not the time to fill the hole in your heart with the same man who inflicted the damage you were trying to fix.

but everything about that night had brought back the tiny spark that you had put out so long. the wave of emotions coming back like a tide the more you played them over in your head. and so you went to bed with a confused head and a stomach swirling with butterflies.

he had left you once before. but he came back.

if only he never answered your phone call at all.

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[raven-dor]

illicit affairs

in which you distance yourself from bucky barnes, and he won’t rest until he knows why

PAIRING: congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, morning sickness, pregnancy, miscommunication (but ig it's more like refusing to communicate), given last name! (Clark), arguing, ANGSTY ANGSTY ANGST, more arguing, kissing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

🎶 : illicit affairs - taylor swift

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - this is like my favorite angsty fic of all time, like it's up there with me and my husband (gwayne hightower) EEEK HAPPY READING!! also i might write a part two where the use the house she bought if that's something you guys would be interested in

The sun shone through the curtains, yellow and bright. You stared at the man dead asleep beside you, a contented smile creeping on your lips. He looked so peaceful, not at all like how he looked awake, always stressed, always worrying over something. If it wasn’t Congress or the team, it was you. Worry was Bucky’s main emotion, you would say when you teased him. He worried over your safety the most, often trying to convince you to stop working in the office, practically begging you to work from home. 

You glared at him every time. 

You could never bring yourself to stay angry, though. He was caring, more than most had ever been with you. You were fragile, something he cherished. 

It made you feel valuable; your cheeks warmed just thinking about it. 

He grumbled, burying his face further into your torso. His arm was lazily wrapped around your waist, and he smiled in his sleep, pulling you closer. You hadn’t wanted to wake him, but he had a meeting in forty-five minutes, and he still needed his routine cup of coffee. “Buck. You have to get up.” 

“Five more minutes.” 

“Bucky…” You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll be late.” 

“I could run there in five minutes.” You knew from the look on his face that he was considering it. Thanks to his super soldier serum, he really could run around the entirety of Washington D.C. in less than an hour. 

“You could, but your hair would be a mess.” You frowned, reaching down to run your fingers through the sleep-tangled tresses. “A lot like it is now. Besides, think about the people who voted for you, who elected you to this office. They wouldn’t exactly enjoy learning that their congressman was late to a meeting.” 

“I hate when you’re right.” He groaned, rolling over and walking toward the bathroom, leaving the door open as he fixed his appearance. “Have I told you how lovely you look this morning?”

“No.”  You playfully glared. “And if you did, you’d be a liar.”

He scoffed. “You’re timeless, Doll. Would’ve took my breath away even in the ’40s.” Your heart fluttered from his compliment. “Are you coming into work with me?” 

You shrugged, biting your lip as you admired his back muscles. “Dunno. I think I’ll take a half day. Probably go on a walk, find a nice cafe to get some work done in.” 

He frowned. “What am I going to do without you?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be just fine. The world will turn without me running the office while you’re gone.” 

“I don’t know.” He was rather dramatic in the morning. “My executive assistant is important-” 

“We can’t go to work together.” You hissed. “You know that. The press would have a field day-” 

“I don’t care.” He sat on the edge of your shared bed. “Don’t you think it’s time the office knows?”

“Bucky. Think of your career, your position. It would look like an abuse of power, I would have to stop working-” 

“Perfect.” He looked terribly pleased with your last statement. “I’ve been trying to get you to stop working in the office for months.” 

“I like working.” You glared. “And I thought we’d finally gotten past that.” 

“We have.” He smiled, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “I just want you to be-” 

“I know.” You sighed. “But I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours. “Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” 

Your eyes welled up, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You love me too much.”

He shook his head, eyes darting to your lips. “Not such thing as too much, Doll.”

You leaped up, pulling him down to you, his eyes wide as you kissed him senseless. “God, I love you.” You murmured against his lips. 

He grinned, kissing down your neck. “I love you more.” 

He’d been late to work. You had to peel yourself away from his touch and practically push him out the door, waving goodbye until his car had vanished from your sight. 

His townhouse was perfect, warm and inviting. When you first started dating, it was empty, with only the bare necessities. You’d laughed when you’d entered, insisting that he let you take him shopping. He’d agreed, and you would later find out he would agree to anything you asked simply because he loved the way your eyes lit up when you were determined.

 Your stomach lurched, and you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut to try and quell the nausea. Finding your way into the kitchen, you grabbed your favorite mug, one that Bucky had bought with you in mind, and made yourself a cup of peppermint tea. Another wave of nausea, stronger than the last, hit you as the steam hit your nostrils. You realized that this was not something you could solve with a couple of deep breaths and a cup of tea; your stomach once again grumbled as you rushed toward the bathroom. 

Denial. 

That was the first stage, right? 

You stared at the tests on the bathroom counter, too shocked to cry. There was no possible way this was real. You’d been safe, you’d taken extra precautions. The science behind the super soldier serum coursing through his veins was something neither of you understood, and so you decided you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

Apparently, you thought as you stared wide-eyed at the positive pregnancy tests in front of you, your extra precautions had been for nothing. This was horrible timing, plain and simple. He’d finally made a name for himself other than the ‘Winter Soldier’. He was finally coming into his own, and you’d ruined it. 

You had to resign. You had to leave before the press found out. 

No, you reasoned with yourself. No one knew you were dating; if you simply pretended that you were pregnant by some random man, the office would believe you. 

There was one major flaw in that plan. What would Bucky think? What would he think if his girlfriend of almost two years suddenly broke up with him and showed up to work a week later, visibly pregnant? 

You decided to stick with your original plan, resigning from the office and fleeing DC. You ran up the stairs, shoving everything you’d accumulated into the two bags you kept here. Your drawer would be empty by the time he came home.

He would eventually understand that you were saving his job, saving what you’d both worked so hard for him to achieve. Besides, who knew if he even wanted that with you, a child, a domestic life? This was James Barnes, the World War II veteran, Avenger, and congressman. He had no time for trivial things like that. 

Anger. 

Your life was exactly what you’d wanted, perfect in every way that counted. Your relationship with Bucky was perfect.

At least, until now.

He had been the first man to truly love you, to care about you. You weren’t some object, some underling. You were his equal, his great love, his partner. 

You’d finally achieved your dream. You came to DC to head an office, to become a political weapon. You’d done that, you’d seen the potential in Bucky, and you had gotten him into office.

This wasn’t fair. 

You loved him, you loved him so much that it hurt. He was a gentleman. He held the door open, he respected you, he was- Angry hot tears ran down your cheeks as you lugged the bags over your shoulders, locking the front door behind you, leaving your key underneath the mat. 

This really sucked.

You hailed a taxi, smiling gratefully when the driver helped you with your bags. “Where to, Miss?” 

“Doll?” Bucky called out, shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t show up to work! Something wrong?” 

No response. You were probably upstairs, too tired to call back out to him. He set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his sports coat. “I brought Indian food from your favorite place down on 8th street.” 

By this point, you were typically barreling down the hallway, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses over his face. He frowned, the house much too silent for his liking. “Baby? Are you home?” 

The hallway was dark, too dark for his liking. You were known for leaving the lights on, too scared to walk around his house in the dark. He laughed when you’d told him, but he’d never judged. If it made you feel safer, then he was all for it. 

He’d checked every room, every possible place you could be, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you’d never even existed. His mind began to cloud, dark and poisonous. 

His first thought was that someone had taken you. That they, whoever they were, had followed the pair of you home one day, found out where he lived, and taken you as collateral. He began to dial Sam’s number when he pushed your shared bedroom door open, frowning at the sight before him. 

Your drawer was open, empty of all the things you’d brought over. He shut the door behind him, pushing the bathroom door open to find that even your products in the mirror above the sink and the shower had disappeared. His heart stopped, hands shaking as he deleted Sam’s number to make way for yours. It had rung two times before you picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Thank god.” His voice was quiet. “Came home and you weren’t here. Thought something had happened.” 

“I um…” You felt horrible, horrible that he had thought you’d been taken. You almost gave in, almost told him the truth. He loved you, and you knew he would be excited. “I-” No, you shook your head, you had to do this for him, for his future. He loved you, and you loved him, which is precisely why you had to do this. “I think we should stop seeing each other.” 

This was his nightmare; this was infinitely worse than someone taking you. That he could fight, he could win; this was uncharted territory. His heart clenched, on the verge of breaking clean in half. “What?” 

“This has been on my mind for some time now.” Lie. “It would be best, for both of us, for your career-” You willed yourself not to cry, not to break from the sound of his voice, more anxious than you’d ever heard him. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Where is this coming from, Doll?” He sounded desperate, broken. A tear ran down your cheek. “Did something happen? Did I-” 

“Bucky.” You cried, the tears you’d tried so hard to hold back breaking free. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “I am going to make this harder than it has to be, because I love you."

Bargaining. 

His voice broke, desperate for an explanation. “Just tell me what happened, baby.” 

“I’d like to take the rest of this week off, please.” He would be better off without you, without this whole mess. This was for the best, you tried to convince yourself. “I’ll be back to work next week.” 

“Where are you?” If he could just see you, he would know. He was sure of it; he could read you like an open book. It was for that very reason that you did not want to tell him where you were. 

“I’m-” It was only a matter of time before he found where you were. Hell, he’d had your location in his phone since before you started dating, for safety purposes, of course. You’d laughed when he'd asked, giving him yours in return. It had been sweet, the way he nervously bit his lip. You remembered your cheeks flushing, stomach fluttering at the action.

Now it made you want to cry.

“I’m at my apartment.” 

“Your apartment?” He felt like he was dying, his heart clenching so tightly he thought he was having a heart attack. Maybe he was. You hadn’t been to your apartment in months, spending virtually every waking moment at his place. He’d even persuaded you to move in last week. “Thought you were moving in with me-” 

“Things change, okay?” You snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to snap like that.” You wiped your face clean of tears. “We were never going to last forever.” Lie number two. “Please, just let me do this.” 

“No.” He shook his head as if you could see him. “I can fix this, we can-” 

“I’ll see you in a week, Congressman.”

True to your word, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week. The radio silence made him jittery, and he began to lose focus in meetings, his peers growing more and more annoyed by his apparent lack of care regarding the nation’s interest. 

He wished he could tell them that his life turned upside down on a random Tuesday, that the love of his life had left him out of nowhere, but he knew better. 

They wouldn’t care. 

He’d been counting down the days, staring at his door for some form of life, for your familiar frame. 

Your desk was right outside his office, and he often found himself watching you through the glass wall. Now he just stared at nothing, at the empty desk that turned his mood sour. He frowned, dropping his face into his hands, wallowing in misery.

“Congressman?” 

His heart skipped, head whipping up. “Ms. Clark.”

You hadn’t wanted to go back to work, but you couldn’t just quit over the phone. 

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could have, probably should have, but your heart craved him, your eyes had to see him once more. 

Then you could hand in your resignation letter. 

You waved hello to the office as you walked toward your desk, almost laughing to yourself at the sight before you. There sat Bucky Barnes, in all his glory, with his head in his hands. If this were normal circumstances, if you hadn’t just broken up with him and were planning on moving across the country, you would have laughed. 

You draped your coat over the back of your chair, pulling your resignation letter out of your bag. “Congressman?” You cleared your throat, heart thumping hard against your chest.

“Ms. Clark.” His head whipped up, eyes wide as he stared at you. “You’re back.” 

“I am.” You reminded yourself that you were in the office and thus had to behave professionally. Placing the letter in front of him, you mustered up the weakest smile known to man. “Here is my resignation letter.” 

“Resignation letter?” Bucky rubbed his eyes, like you weren’t real, a figment of his imagination. “Ms. Clark-” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, not having the strength to look at him any longer. “For understanding.” 

“Wait just a second-” He stood up, practically racing toward the door to shut it before you could leave. “Don’t thank me for understanding.” His cologne threatened to overpower your senses. “Don’t thank me because I don’t understand.” He looked miserable, hands twitching like he was forcing himself not to touch you. “You haven’t given me any real reason.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was like a warning, a plea not to escalate things.

He didn’t happen to care, because he couldn’t let you go. Not without a fight, or at the very least, a reason for your sudden end of an otherwise happy relationship. 

He whispered your name so faintly you could have sworn he’d never said it. “I can’t let you go.” 

“This is highly inappropriate. We are at work, anyone could walk in at-” 

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “I love you? Do you know how much I love you?” 

“Of course I do.” You whispered, scared of someone overhearing. “And I- I loved-” 

“Bullshit.” He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “We were happy. You were happy. You told me you loved me that morning. What happened in nine hours?” 

“If there’s nothing else you need…” You straightened your posture. “I’ll be just outside.” 

“I need you.” He said it like it was a fact, like it was certain, etched in stone since the beginning of time. “You might not need me, but I need you.” 

Oh, how you wanted to correct him. You needed him like air, like the very oxygen that filled your lungs. You’d been in love with him for so long that you’d forgotten what it had been like before him. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hear you reject him one more time. Not when he knew that you still loved him. He knew it, even if you didn’t. “That will be all.” 

“Fine.” You nodded, turning on your heels like you hadn’t just broken his heart. Like you hadn’t just broken your own heart.

Depression.

You were actively fighting through it, fighting against crumbling into ash and letting the Earth swallow you whole. You’d been to a total of two doctors’ appointments, and even that had done nothing to improve your mood. 

If anything, it made it worse, knowing that Bucky would never be there, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He would never see her first steps, her playing in the front yard, her first dance recital. 

And that was fine, because he would be doing great things, he would be changing the world. 

You didn’t even know if it was a girl or a boy. You had a feeling that it was a girl; your feeling was more of a wish than intuition. You’d always known you’d have a girl; it was something that had been part of you for as long as you’d loved playing with dolls. 

Your hand fell to your stomach, caressing it gently as you whispered. “Hello, my darling.” It was too early to tell if it was a boy or a girl, too early for kicking, too early for most things. 

You felt crazy when you talked to your baby; it wasn’t like she (or he) could hear you or show you that it could. “You’re going to be so loved, so deeply loved.” 

The bed in your apartment was comfortable, but you missed your bed, the one you’d been sleeping in for almost a year. Bucky’s bed. You missed his smell, his warmth. You slept in the one shirt he’d left over here every night, pretending as if nothing had gone wrong, that you hadn’t broken the one thing that kept you sane. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered again, eyes tearing up as you thought of him. “I miss your father.” 

Only two more days until you leave DC. 

Technically, one and a half. 

It felt surreal. You’d come here with such big dreams, and now, here you were, leaving with your tail tucked between your legs.

It was fine, not everyone was made for this life. 

You thought you had been. 

You’d already put a down payment on a modest house in a small town somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was pale blue, with three bedrooms, two stories, and it took everything in your savings. 

The front yard was perfect for playing in, for growing up. The large oak tree that shaded the house was perfect for climbing, even a tire swing. 

Maybe this was it, acceptance. 

It felt like it, in some horribly strange way. You’d finally reached the last stage of grief, of mourning your past life.

Mourning your great love. 

The office was relatively quiet, a nice reprieve from a normally chaotic environment. You’d decided to make the most of your last two days to finally organize the file system, hopefully enough so that his next executive assistant had an easier time finding things than you had. 

You wondered as you flipped through a folder labeled ‘The Superhero Support Act’ if he and his next assistant would fall in love, if she would make him forget about the pain you’d caused. 

You hoped she did; he deserved happiness.

By noon, you’d already organized all the digital files, your desk, and Bucky’s office. It was time for the white whale - the file closet.

It was dingy in here, the one hanging light doing nothing to brighten the space. You groaned, knowing that this would take longer than you thought. The files were dusty; they had obviously been neglected since the invention of the computer. Deciding to organize the files chronologically, you began your last mission.

 “Thought I’d find you here.” 

You cursed at the sky, wishing that Bucky would just leave before either of you said something you’d regret. You continued to face away from him, still sorting through the files as diligently as before. “Just doing my job.” 

“Mhm.” You imagined he was leaning against the doorway, looking as handsome as always, his jacket unbuttoned. “I see that.” He didn’t speak for a while, simply watching you organize. You wished he would leave once more. 

Wishes, apparently, are not granted on Capitol Hill. 

“I love you.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned. “C’mon, Doll-” 

“Don’t.” You stood up, finally facing him. “We are at work.” He raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut. Your eyes widened, and you stepped forward, trying to open it. “If someone finds us in here-” 

“What will they do?” Bucky laughed. “You're leaving, as you love to remind me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” 

“Funny.” He took in your face, trying to memorize it before you left. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whispered.

“Like what?” He whispered back.

“Like you still love me.” 

“Of course I still love you.” He scoffed, following after you as you walked backwards, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “I’ll always love you.” 

Your eyes welled. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Stop telling me what I mean.” 

Your back hit the file shelf, gasping. “I-” 

He was barely a breath away from you, eyes darting toward your lips. “When will you understand that I love you? That I’m here, and I’m not leaving. That I’ve loved you since you walked into my campaign office, all frazzled, barking out orders?” His hand came up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen against your will. “That I wake up in the middle of the night, and the first thing I do is look over to make sure you’re still there, that you’re breathing, that you're real?”

“Bucky-” You were sobbing, fighting every instinct that screamed to let him in, to tell him the truth. “Stop.” Every time he spoke, it softened your resolve, made you want to tell him what you’d been carrying by yourself. 

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not going to leave you alone. I know you love me, I know-” 

You place one hand over his mouth, the other on his chest. “It’s for the best, trust me. You said you love me, so just let me do this. Let me do this for you.” 

He raised an eyebrow, delicately peeling your hand away from his mouth. “Do what? What’s going on, baby?” He grew more and more worried every second you sobbed, every second you refused to open up to him. “Did someone-” 

“No.” You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bucky, I love you so much-” 

He grinned, a glimmer of hope breaking through his otherwise melancholy face. “I love you too-” 

“But this is for your own good.” Both of your hands were on his chest, pushing him away like he was temptation itself. “You’re meant to do great things, and you can do those, but I can’t be the person who slows you down.” 

“Is that why you broke up with me?” He laughed. “I appreciate you looking out for me, really I do, but you can’t make that decision for me.” 

“Too late.” You cried, his shirt wrinkling under your hold. “It’s too late.” 

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head, his hands holding your face like it was precious. If you had asked him, it was. “You’re scaring me, baby. What’s got you so upset? Talk to me.” 

“I- I can’t-” 

“You can-” 

“You don’t get it-” You sobbed. “I-” 

“C’mon, Doll.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m right here.”

“I’m pregnant, alright?” You sobbed. “There you go, there it is.” He staggered back, staring at you in disbelief. You felt jittery, manic with fear from his reaction, or lack of reaction. “I’m sorry, I just-” You hugged yourself, rambling as you tried to explain the reasoning behind your decision.

“I found out after you left for work, and I-I couldn’t live with myself if I slowed you down. You’re amazing, you’re really making a change for these people. And I’m so proud of you, so so proud. You’re my finest achievement, and I-I couldn’t see it all go to waste. I knew if I told you, you’d drop everything, and I couldn’t have that. Because you care too much, and it scares me. It’s horrifying how much you love me. I’m not used to it. You’re supposed to be more selfish, you have to be more selfish, especially in this-” 

You tilted your head, glaring at the man in front of you. “Are you even listening?” He had that same glazed-over look in his eye, still staring in disbelief. “Are you serious? I know I messed up, but the least you could do is say something.” Bucky slowly walked back toward you, like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m sorry, I really am. Just please, say something, say anything-” You gasped when his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you carefully into his hold. “Bucky-”

His lips dove to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. He grinned, your teeth momentarily clashing, neither of you wanting to let up. Your knees weakened, glad that he had an arm around your waist, holding you up with ease. “We can’t-” 

“Are you sure?” He pulled back, breath heaving as he spoke. “Are you sure that you’re pregnant?” 

You nodded, smiling timidly. “Eight weeks yesterday.” 

“Eight weeks?” His eyes welled with tears as he stared at your stomach. “Oh, baby…” 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to-” 

“I love you.” He grinned, peppering kisses all over your face, your laughter bubbling in waves as you squirmed under his attack of affection. “I love you so much, and I-” He fidgeted with something in his pocket. “This is horrible timing, I know that.” 

“What?” Your heart dropped as he lowered himself onto one knee. “Bucky-” 

“Before you say anything, just let me get this out, and then you can scold me or kiss me, whatever you want.” He smiled, pulling out a small velvet box. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, and now seems as good a time as any.” The ring inside was old, simple, but elegant all the same. “This is my mother’s ring. Rebecca still had it.”

“Bucky-” 

“I want to marry you. So badly it hurts. Marry me, and I swear you’ll be happy as long as you live.”  

“You know my answer is yes.” You cried, leaning down to kiss him. “A million times, yes.” 

He smiled, placing the ring on your finger. “Thank god. If you tried to leave again i was just going to blurt it out, and I didn’t think that-” 

“This is perfect. You’re perfect.” You grinned, staring at the ring as he stood up. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, Doll.” He kissed the back of your hand, smiling when he saw his mother’s ring. “I do have one request.” 

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

“Next time you’re pregnant…” Your heart skipped at the way he so casually said ‘next time,’ like it was inevitable. “Tell me before you do anything rash.” 

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sounds reasonable enough.”

taglist: @milesdrift @eddiemunsons-lover @maryjaneeeee

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[illum1z]

snow cream

Roommate!Yunho x F!Reader

summary: Six months of living under the same roof, and you barely knew the guy. You both always came and went, to and from your jobs and school, only ever interacting in the kitchen or the living room late at night when you wanted a glass of water or he wanted to watch TV. But when winter rolls around and the snowstorms get heavy, maybe somehow you could warm up to each other…

tags: snowed in, forced proximity(?), attempt at humor, fluff, mutual pining, hand kink (duh), soft mdom, petnames (baby, angel face, pretty girl, slut etc.), Yu LOVES touching you, handjob, nipple sucking, fingering, tension, unprotected sex (BOOOOO), lotus positon, he talks alot, multiple orgasms, aftercare, NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 7.2k

notes: sort of based around a nsfw audio I listened to a couple years ago LMAO.

tracklist: bad liar, poison, intro: singularity

“Reports are flowing in from the NWS about upcoming snowstorms, which are expected to reach record levels; the surrounding area is expecting up to 6 inches. Officials are closing roads and the district schools are shutting down until-”

“Just my luck, huh?” You switched off your phone and rested your head against your steering wheel with an exasperated sigh. You had seen the beginning of the snowfall that week, just light flakes here and there, but they weren't sticking.

But of course mother nature had to give a big fuck you and mess with your plans that weekened with 6 inches of snow. Roads were closing, and so were the stores, so you needed to be in and out before the snowstorm picked up.

You rubbed your temples before switching your car off, getting out, and walking into the grocery store with your original plan in mind.

You had planned to pick up some ingredients for some appetizers you were going to bring to one of your friends' birthdays, but you had frowned when they texted your group chat, saying the party had been cancelled because of snowfall.

That's what led you to the news, deflating your excitement. Instead of being here for groceries, you were here to stock up on supplies. And so was everybody else. The store was packed with people. Mothers are rushing and snatching boxes of cereal off the shelf. Dads are stocking up on batteries and jugs of water. The poor employees were at war with the panicking public. Quickly as you could, you grabbed a cart and picked up some essentials. Batteries. Toilet paper. Bottled water. Some nonperishables. While walking past the home section, you noticed a couple of displays where they were selling large fleece blankets.

You eyed them for a second, debating if you should get one.

Maybe two.

One for you, one for your roommate. Jeong Yunho. 

You had met him on Craigslist whilst looking for roommate listings. You decided community college was best for your budget years ago, but you needed to find somewhere else to live. Soon. Living with your parents is not for the weak.

You spent hours on different websites, desperate to find somewhere close and affordable. Maybe also a roommate who has a low chance of murdering you in your sleep.

You stumbled across the listing one night, hope slowly dwindling at the awful market.

2 bedrooms. 2 baths. 600 per month. Cats are welcome. Email for more information.

Immediately, you jumped on it because there was no way you would be able to find anything cheaper than this, unfortunately. You emailed him all your information. About your job and schedule, and made sure to mention that you would like to bring your cat, Patches. About a week later, you had driven to the house to look around and discuss final plans and agreements. Along with you, you brought your cat so she could become accustomed to the new living space.

The house was cute and quaint, a little grey and white bungalow with a few bushes on either side of the steps that led up to the black door. A decent-sized front yard, neat and green, with a driveway with just enough space for two cars. Perfect. 

When you met the person who posted the listing, you had pulled up to the house, parking your car behind another one already in the driveway. He was on the porch, in the process of carrying some bags inside the house.. When he saw you, he waved for you to follow him inside. He showed you to your room, talked about rent and policies. You both established some privacy rules, and he was petting your cat the entire time. He seemed to take a liking to her immediately. Yunho had you sign some things, and then that was it. Simple, fast, and easy. A few days later, you had moved your stuff in, and from then on, you and Yunho barely interacted.

He said that he’s usually at one of his friends' houses, at work or class, or in his room playing games. This was perfect for you; you enjoyed your privacy, and if you were being honest, you were nervous around Yunho.

He had this boyish charm to him that made your heart flutter; he was tall and spoke to you gently, as if he were too loud, he might scare you. He had dark brown hair that parted in the middle, with bangs that sometimes covered his eyes. And you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that your gaze always drifted to his hands whenever you saw him. Large and slender, the veins prominent like a roadmap.

 He always made sure that you knew where he was going when he went somewhere with a text like “At friends,” or “Out drinking.”

Another thing you had noticed while living with him was that it was like he stole your cat from you. IF you couldn't find your cat anywhere, it was safe to assume she was in Yunho's room. She followed him around the apartment all the time, whenever he sat on the couch to watch TV, she was in his lap. Whenever he was in the kitchen cooking, she was perched on the counter watching intently.

One day, you came home and saw Yunho on the couch with her. Usually, she’d get up and greet you by rubbing her face against your legs. Instead, she stayed put, gave you a curt meow, and that was it.

You walked by the back of the couch and narrowed your eyes at her, mouthing the words “traitor” before retreating to your room.  

You ran your hand over the navy blue fleece blanket that was folded next to a similar white one. Making up your mind, you dropped the blue blanket in your cart as well as the white one. After some more shopping, you checked out and began your drive home, the snow beginning to fall again. 

Your mind wandered back to your roommate again. You're pretty sure he was at a friend's house right now, you just hoped he would make it home safe. Driving home through the snow was certainly a feat. Everyone on the road opted to go under the speed limit in hopes they wouldn't go sliding at a sharp turn. A blanket of white began to accumulate on the ground, and it was growing increasingly difficult to see through the snow swirling in the air.

After a grueling and stressful journey, you returned to the house safely. The yard was a pure, sparkling white, untouched like a fresh, clean blanket. You gathered your bags and stepped out of the car, trudging through the snow as it only continued to climb higher and higher. As you suspected, Yunho’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

You made it inside, the warmth of the heater immediately making you shed your jacket as you dropped the bags on the table. As soon as you did, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out to see a text from Yunho.

“Be home later.” Simple and quick. You thought for a moment whether you should text back. Your fingers began typing, and then you hit send.

“Be safe.” A second later, it buzzed again.

“Will do.”

You felt stupid for the way your heart clenched a little. You could count on three hands how many conversations you’ve had with him that lasted longer than a minute. Words are always fleeting between you two, always too busy for anything more than a good morning or an update on bills. But Yunho always responded to your texts with earnestness, replying fast and confidently. It was never anything deep, but whenever you asked what he wanted for dinner, he always responded with whatever it was he wanted, with a smiley face and a thank you.

He never really engaged in any more conversation than that, but for some reason, you could tell her cared more than he let on.

You put away all the things you bought, deciding to place the blanket you bought for Yunho on the couch so he’d see it when he got home. You cleaned up a little, because if you’re going to be snowed in, at least let the place be neat.

After some light cleaning, you had a shower and decided that for tonight’s dinner, you’d make some chili, so that way you would have leftovers for the upcoming days. Tonight was usually Yunho’s night for meals, but you were feeling froggy.

Connecting your speaker to your phone, you cleaned up your area and put on some music, getting ready to make dinner. You were in your zone, chopping tomatoes and browning the beef. The music flowed from your speaker, and the house was filled with a cozy feeling. You were an avid big light hater, so a few lamps and candles here and there set a soothing ambient lighting. The sun was setting, and the snow was picking up, the wind howling outside.

After another hour or so, dinner was done, and Yunho still wasn’t home. It was 8 pm. He’s usually out past 11, but because of the storm, you had assumed he’d be back earlier. You decided to shoot him a test, for your own mental fortitude. The snow had calmed, gentle snowfall dusting your windows.

“Are you on your way home? I made chili.” Send.

You waited a minute or two. No response. You rested your elbows on the kitchen island, waiting for his reply.

The three bouncing dots appeared at the bottom of your messages, and he was typing.

It stopped for a second, then started up again.

“Can you come outside?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at such a weird question. You thought he was with his friends. He was typing again.

“Down the street.”

“Stuck in the snow.”

“Please.” 

You were so confused. Quickly, you slipped on your coat and your shoes by the door. You slipped your phone in your pocket and opened your front door. The cold hit your face like a mallet, and immediately your nose started to burn. But it was beautiful outside. Fresh snow everywhere. It was dark outside well into the night, but the snow was so white it was like it provided a little glow of its own. Snowflakes flurried from the sky, landing all over your clothes. You stepped into the front yard, and half of your calf sank completely beneath the surface of the fluff.

You, albeit with some trouble, waded through your front yard and stepped out onto the icy street nearly losing your footing and busting your ass. The neighborhood was silent, not a soul in sight, the end of the street being swallowed in black emptiness. 

But on the other end of the street, a lone car pulled off to the curb, headlights on as the snow swirled around the warm beams of light in a dancing flurry.

Beside it was your roommate, waving at you, bundled in a coat and scarf, grey sweatpants, and a desperate look on his face.

You started to walk towards him, doing your best not to slip and fall. “What the hell is going on?” You exclaim as you walk towards him. His tires were buried in the snow, and his windshield wipers were swaying steadily, clearing the flakes off the glass.

When you were about 6 steps away from reaching him, you began to lose your footing, the ice seeming slicker than before.

“Careful-careful-careful!” Yunho reached his hands forward and took a step in an attempt to catch you, but it was too late. 

“Shit!” your feet slipped from underneath you and after a couple slips and slides fighting to stay up, you ultimately fell directly on your ass, a sharp pain shooting up your tailbone.

You groaned, hand reaching back and rubbing your lower back. Immediately, the wet ice soaked your pants uncomfortably, and you already knew you’d wake up tomorrow with a nasty bruise.

Silence fell as you sat in defeat and mulled your pain, but Yunho was oddly quiet. You raised your eyes to look at him. He had one hand over his mouth. His eyebrows were raised in shock, and his eyes slowly narrowed as he took you in.

“Laugh. I dare you.” You glared at him, wincing at the sharp pain crawling up your tailbone.

“Jeong Yunho, you are a child.” You rolled your eyes as he busted out into a fit of laughter, one hand on his car while the other stayed on his mouth. You turned and got ready to get up so you could hit him.

“N-No wait stop!” he shouted between fits of giggles, his arms coming down and trying to pull you up by your arms, while simultaneously avoiding your violent hands.

“I’m sorry, let me just- hold on- stop trying to hit me (Name)! I'm trying to help you.”

“Well then, stop laughing at me!” His own feet were starting to lose friction on this ice as he felt his body sway as he grabbed you.

“If you don’t stop moving, you’re gonna take us both down!” Yunho tried to manhandle you back up, but unfortunately he lost it and tumbled down right next to you, accidentally yanking you onto your back as he landed on his ass.

“Goddamnit” Yunho laid back in the snow, seemingly giving up on trying to get either one of you on your feet. You giggled behind your hand as you looked at him, his hair all messy and dusted with snowflakes.

He glanced at you and sighed. “Go ahead. It's only fair.” You took that opportunity to laugh in his face, him lightening up and joining you.

When you both calmed down, you looked behind him at his car. “So what happened, you just got lodged in the snow?”

“Wow, real astute (Name). Did I also mention that it’s snowing outside? How crazy is that?” You moved to smack his shoulder at his smart alecness, but he dodged.

“Stop trying to hit me, and help me move my car.” Bewildered, you watch as he stumbled and tried to stand up, feet slipping here and there as he finally stood upright. Like a baby penguin

“Help you push the car?” You snorted and tried to stand up yourself grunting. “Yeah, that's like not happening. Especially on this ice. You’re just going to have to leave it here until some of the snow melts.” Yunho looked at you like you had just told him something outrageous.

“Are you serious?” He glared at you, noticing how you made no move to come over and start pushing the car. “Insane actually…” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration as he watched the snow fall from the night sky.

“Listen, I made dinner tonight. It's chili. Come home for now, it's cold, and the snow will pick back up again soon. Come inside, and we can worry about this later.” Yunho stopped and seemed to think to himself for a second, before his eyes flicked over to yours.

He looked at you with a surprising gentleness, roving over your face before landing on your lips for a fraction of a second, so fast you didn’t catch it.

“Alright.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, let's go inside. It's okay. We can worry about it later.”

“That's what I said,” you chirped as you turned your back, beginning the slippery journey back to the house.

“I know that's what you said. I was just rephrasing.” Yunho followed behind, shuffling his feet on the ice so he wouldn’t have to pick them up and risk stepping wrong. It was silent on the way back, both of you too focused on not falling again.

You shed your shoes and coat by the door, turning to Yunho and pointing to the rug on the porch.

“Shoes.” You stated. Yunho looked down and removed his shoes, setting them next to yours.

Satisfied you opened the door, you hung your coat on the hanger in the foyer. “I just cleaned the house.” You mumbled to yourself, as if to affirm the reason you made him leave his snow-filled shoes outside.

Yunho followed behind, hanging his own coat and scarf on the rack. You sighed and fell on the couch, groaning in relief at the warmth that surrounded you.

“There’s chili in the kitchen if you want some.” You closed your eyes, basking in the warmth. The pine candle you lit made the house smell so comforting, taking in a deep breath, you heard Yunho’s breath hitch. When you realized he hadn't said anything yet, you peeked open an eye, only to catch him looking away from you.

His arms came up, smoothly directing his gaze down at his hands, fidgeting and playing with his fingers like he was bored.

He was almost caught, your shirt had ridden up when you laid on the couch, exposing your belly and the hem stopping right where your underboob began. Yunho’s brain nearly short-circuited at the sight, wondering what it would feel like to lie to you on his bed and drag his big hands up and down your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling you…

He blinked, realizing he was much too far in his fantasy, expecting you to be looking at him like he was a pervert. Instead, he caught your eyes glued to his hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. You blinked once. Twice. Before turning round and snatching up the remote, switching the TV on.

“Like I said, dinner’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.” Quickly gaining your composure like you weren't imagining his fingers inside of you, you switched to a cooking channel and sat on the couch, full attention on the screen.

“What's this?” Yunho tapped the back of the couch. “A blanket?” You didn’t look back at him, too embarrassed to show your face.

“Oh yeah, when I was at the store, I saw they were selling soft blankets, so I got you one.” You shrugged it off. When he didn’t respond, you assumed that he just went to the kitchen to eat.

A few more beats of silence, and you thought you were in the clear from your way too hot roommate, when his gentle, rich voice hit your ears like a truck, and you felt your core clench hard.

“Thank you (Name), you’re such a sweetheart. Thanks for always thinking of me.” 

Like someone just shot you, you whipped your head around to see Yunho holding the blanket in his hands, towering over you, standing behind the couch. His fingers dipping into the soft, navy blue waves of fleece, his lips upturned in a soft smile, and his eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

He was going to kill you. His hair fell in front of his eyes as his hands slowly caressed the blanket he held, his posture was relaxed as his eyes remained fixed on you, and you swear you saw them flick to your lips for a second. 

Your heart stopped and fell to your ass, immediately nervousness took over your body and you felt like a hot mess.

 After a few seconds of silence, Yunho’s smile fell, and his eyebrows knitted, like he was frustrated. He leaned his head back and shoved the blanket in his face, groaning into it.

“Don't… look at me like that.” Yunho’s muffled voice spilled from behind the blanket in his face, and you went rigid. How were you looking at him?

“Well, I don't look at me like that either!” You exclaimed, your voice shaking slightly. Yunho moved the blanket from his face, butting on the back of the couch. His eyes locked with yours again. Every time you looked away, he stepped a little closer, until he was sitting next to you.

“Hey, uh. Back up maybe?” You chided, trying to hide how much of a mess he was able to make of you just by looking at you.

“No.” Yunho challenged, looking at you intently. “Stop looking away and look at me.” So you did, you gazed into his eyes and immediately felt weak. His pupils were BLOWN. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, eyebrows cinched as he stared at you like he was trying to pin you to your spot.

He wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t look like he was thinking either. He was just staring. You were starting to feel put on the spot, and you were about to make an excuse to go use the bathroom. 

“You’re so fuckng pretty,” Yunho whispered. You nearly choked on your spit, but his hand lifted and dragged his fingertips down the bridge of your nose with feather-light gentleness, along your eyebrow, along your jawline. Like he was mapping out your face.

“Yunho…” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, it could shatter the atmosphere. The air was thick, and the wind outside howled as the snow picked up again. The house almost seemed too hot now, and frankly, a snowball to the face wouldn’t be so bad right now. Yunho gnawed on his bottom lip.

“How come you never talk to me?” You suddenly blurted it out, instantly regretting it when it slipped out of your mouth. Yunho, obviously taken aback by your question, paused his touches on your face. He let his hand fall onto his lap and quickly grabbed his hand again, encasing it between your own two.

“What I meant is! Like, why don’t we take or hang out more often? I mean that I would like to, not that you… I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about.” Yunho watched as you stumbled over your words, a smile crossing his face again as he chuckled at your franticness.

“(Name), (Name), stop.” The hand he held in your grasp, gently pulled from you, now holding your wrist. Yunho lowered his head and looked at your hand. Keeping his head down, his eyes lifted to meet yours as his thumb pressed onto the pulse point on the inside of your wrist. His other hand came up to your face, cradling your jaw softly.

Your chest felt like it was going to explode, overwhelmed with how Yunho was so close to you, how he was touching you, how he was looking at you.

“You know, I feel bad. You just thought of me while out shopping and got me a gift, but I don’t have anything for you.” Yunho frowned, dropping his gaze back down to your hand, his fingers tracing lightly up the inside of your arm, drawing circles and stars into your skin.

You shrugged gently, trying to brush it off so you didn't seem like you were expecting something back, because truly you weren’t. You just wanted to get him something.

“It’s nothing, Yu, you don’t have to -“ 

“No, it’s not nothing! Don’t say that.” Yunho squeezed your wrist softly, bringing your arm up and pressing whispers of kisses from your pulse point up your arm, and back down again as he spoke. 

“You’re always so thoughtful. Always checking up on me, making amazing meals for us, looking so pretty all the time.” You swallowed, your face quickly heating up at the praise, and the strain in his voice as he spoke. You struggled to find words to reply to him. You never realized how much he appreciated what you do, and frankly, you didn’t realize how much you did for him. 

“I wanna give you something too.” His eyes flicked up to yours, searching for consent in your eyes. You didn’t say anything. Then you whispered a question, the doubt in your mind creeping into your words.

“Yunho… you don’t have to give me anything-” Before you could continue, he pressed a finger to your lips to stop you from talking.

“Buh buh buh. Stop. This isn’t for you. Well, it is for you, but it's for me too. I want to. I want to take care of you like you take care of me, (Name).” Yunho’s hand landed on your upper thigh, gently kneading it like he was trying to ease the tension, keeping his eyes on yours.

“Is that okay?” The slow, gentle rub on your thigh was comforting, however, not calming in the least. The tendons in his hands flexed as he stroked his hand about the expanse of your leg. He stopped when your thigh tensed, resuming when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Yes.” barely there, in a whisper.

“Words, angel, use them please.” Yunho inched closer to you on the couch, his other hand coming around to cup the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

His smell enveloped you, his bangs tickled your forehead as his staggering breath fanned against your lips. 

“Yes.” You spoke louder, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, testing the waters. “Please.” You expected Yunho to chase your lips, but instead, he just smiled and leaned back.

“I knew it.” Your heart stopped. What's he doing? 

“All this time since you moved in, I thought maybe I was a pervert.” He lifted his hand and gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie on your back on the couch, your head on the armrest. He slowly crawled over on top of your body, one leg slotted between your thighs with his knee just barely brushing your core, his hands pressing against the couch by the sides of your head. He brought his face down to yours, space nonexistent between you two as his calm breaths mingled with your nervous ones.

His eyes locked on yours, shamelessly flicking to your lips every few seconds. “You’re always looking at my hands, baby. Do you like them?”

Your breath hitched, and embarrassment crept up your spine. Yeah, he had noticed. This wasn't a new fascination of yours. You had always been drawn to hands in a way, but his specifically. The long, nimble fingers, the prominent veins, and the sheer size of his palm. 

Teasingly, he brought his hand up to your face, twisting his wrist to give you a good view. Slowly, he moved his hand down against your throat, his fingertips brushing against the side of your neck softly, up and down, trailing along your collarbones and between your breasts, down until they reached the hem of your shirt.

You watched with bated breath as he teased the hem of your shirt, rubbing it between his fingers, slightly lifting it and letting it fall back down.

“Want me to take it off for you? Undressing you like a gift, yeah?” A quiet whimper slipped from the back of your throat. His hand slipped under your shirt, flattening his large, warm palm against your stomach and caressing your skin gently.

Agonizingly slow, he dragged his hand up, taking his time mapping out your body, his other hand quietly lifting to cup the back of your neck again, pulling your head up to press your forehead against his. His eyes never left you as you felt his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of your breast, tracing light patterns around your areolas so softly it almost tickled. Your stomach clenched at the touch, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

“You're so soft, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. Can’t believe you're letting me..” His large hand cupped your breast, softly kneading the mound.

His fingers twilled the hair on the nape of your neck, occasionally squeezing the back of your neck reassuringly, like he wanted you to know that he had you. He's gonna take care of you.

“Can you whine for me, honey? I love your voice.” You didn't need to hear that, as he slipped his hand from under your shirt, lifting the hem until it sat under your chin.

“Arms up.” Breaking from your stupor, you lifted your arms as he dragged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere in the dim living room. His eyes moved down and locked on your exposed breasts, your nipples hardening in response to the cold.

“There they are. So pretty.” Without warning, his lips crashed with yours, swallowing your whimpers while his hand found your breast again. Messy and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips open for him and slipping into your mouth. He moaned deep into you, his hand massaging your breast roughly as he lost himself in your mouth.

Every buck of his head he tried to push himself closer into you, like he was trying to melt into you, his lips relentless against you, sucking your plush bottom lip and nipping at your tongue teasingly.

Pulling away was hard for him; it almost hurt. He gave himself a moment to take you in. Swollen lips, blown pupils, and frizzy hair. A mess all for him.

His kisses trailed from the back of your ear down your neck and landed around your breasts. Kissing and soothingly running his tongue around them before latching onto your nipple. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, focused on the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your nipple.

Taking this opportunity, his other hand moved from behind your neck and landed on the waistband of your pants, undoing the buttons before slipping his hand past the waistband of your underwear.

Your eyes shot open again at the feeling of his finger tracing a slow deliberate line up your slit, gathering your wetness. You craned your neck to the side, draping your arm over your mouth and avoiding his hot gaze. Yunho clicked his tongue and with surprising ease let his finger press against your opening, sliding perfectly inside of you, his fingertip brushing against your G-spot softly.

“I’m gonna need you to look at me, baby, I can’t give you what you need if you aren't looking at me.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you bit your bottom lip, ripping your arm away from your eyes and slowly focusing your eyes on him. And you almost wished you hadn’t.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, pupils blown and hair tousled all around his flushed face. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his hand disappearing between your legs, his cheek pressed up against your breast, his tongue lolling against it, tracing lazy patterns around your areola. His eyes took you in, like you were the most stunning thing he had laid eyes on, which was the truth.

His eyelids fluted before his lips wrapped around your nipple again, kissing, licking and sucking as he started dragging his finger inside of you, curling it just right in that way that made your breathing hitch and your eyes roll.

“Yu-, fuck…” He nipped at your nipple, immediately soothing it with his tongue and pulling off of you with a slick pop.

“I’m trying so hard to be respectful…” He ground out the words like talking hurt his throat. You were finding it hard to focus with the attention he was giving your body, perfectly pressing your buttons and winding you up like a toy. Easily slipping another finger inside your cunt, you let a groan out deep from your chest, turning him on impossibly more.

“But baby, fuck you’re making this so hard for me…” He let his mouth wrap around your other nipple, massaging your hip with his free hand as he sloppily licked you up like candy.

“So good- wish I could eat you all day. I do…” he moaned between kisses on your breasts, switching between suckling them and biting. “I do. I really fucking do…”

Yunho’s fingers press inside of you harder, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. Unbeknownst to you, he was grinding his rock hard cock against the cushion of the couch, desperately trying to ease the pain from how hard he was feeling you soak his fingers like a slut. Your eyes watered, and you were finding it hard to breathe as his long fingers reached spots you never could. You thought back on the times you’d sit on your bed, trying so hard to reach an earth-shattering climax, imagining his fingers fucking you instead of your own. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

“Fuck baby, cmon get up. On my lap.” Hazily, you watched as he slipped his fingers out of you, sitting on the couch, legs on the ground. Impatiently, his big hands engulfed each side of your waist and lifted your body with ease to sit on his lap. You bent your knees on either side of his thighs, his cock pressed against your wet cunt.

He craned his neck up to look at you, immediately slotting his lips with yours. Working in tandem, his mouth devoured yours, swallowing you up like he needed you to breathe. One hand cupping your neck and pressing you as close as he could, while the other kneaded the flesh of your ass like a stress toy.

Withour thinking, eyes closed as you let him fuck your mouth with his tongue, your hand slipped between your intertwined bodies, fishing his dick from out of his pants, hot and heavy in your hand.

His breath stuttered between his kisses, but his lips never left yours as you wrapped your hand around the upper half, your thumb brushing against the slit on his swollen tip.

He bit your lip accidentally at the stimulation, pulling away from your lips finally to look down at your hand wrapped around him.

His breathing quickened, and his hips bucked, chasing more of your touch as you teasingly played with him. You kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyebrows twitch and his eyes shake.

“Baby, you handle me so f-fucking well…” His moans were quiet, but so loud in the silence of your shared home, the snow howling just outside. 

Your grip lowered, squeezing the base before dragging your hand up and down the length of him. His head lifted again, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, pressing desperate and wet open-mouth kisses on your collarbone, his barely contained whimpers falling against your heated skin.

“Off..” he groaned into you, but too lost in the feeling of him throbbing in your hand, you didn’t quite understand.

“H-huh?”

“Off, off- clothes off. ‘S so hot…” He shimmied underneath, shedding his shorts and nearly ripping his shirt off. 

He grabbed the base of his cock, urging you to lift your hips so he could press his tip against you.

“Nice and slow for me, sweet girl, sit on it. Take your time, don’t wanna hurt yourself…” His eyes locked with yours as you complied with his request, slowly letting your hips sink down on him.

When his tip pressed in, that stupid, lazy boyish smile of his spread across his face, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyebrows cinched, focused on feeling you take him in like he was meant for you.

“There you go, slow… good, mmm, good fucking girl (Name.)” Your breath caught as you continued to lower your hips down onto him. Bottoming out with a groan, your hands gripped his shoulder, your nails digging into the blades.

You both sat there for a second, relishing the intimate feeling of just being connected. Your breaths mingled, and your thighs shook, his hands massaging your waist, squeezing your hips every time they slid back down.

When Yunho finally spoke, it was strained and so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Rock your hips. Grind on me pretty, take what you need from me. Make yourself feel good.” 

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, moving your hands to cradle his head. Cautiously testing the waters, you rolled your hips forward, his tip perfectly dragging against that sweet spot deep in your tummy. The moan you let out was borderline pornographic; nobody had ever been so deep in you, and the fact that it was Yunho was so overwhelming.

“Oh god…” You moaned, pressing your lips into his hair, gasping and whining into the soft locks. His hands gripped your hips and helped you move, pushing and pulling you, moving you back and forth on his cock.

“That's it… fuck, always knew you’d take me so well. Like me all in your guts baby, huh?” You nod against him, your breath hitching when he lifted you so you slid up his cock and back down. Effectivley using your body to fuck himself into you.

“Don't stop, keep rolling those hips, angel, do not stop.” His hand came up and gripped your throat, manuevering your head down so he could kiss you again, groaning into your mouth as you did into his as he fucked you up and down on his cock, your hips contining to grind. With every thrust and every flick of his tongue, his fat tip constantly dragged against that spongy spot inside of you.

A smug laugh slipped past his lips as he watched how desperate you were to feel good, and he was feeling really good about himself as he watched you lose yourself on him.

“Yeah, ride it, baby, ride it…” He bucked his hips, smiling wider when your back went taught feeling the pressure inside of you, as he continued to fuck himself into you slowly, dragging your pleasure out as much as he could.

“This is all for you, for being so good to me all these months, for always being so fucking s-sweet and taking care of me…” He thrusted harder with every other word, like he was enunciating how much this meant to him.

“Thank you Yu- fuck, you’re so big thank you ngh..” He nipped at your bottom lip, giving your throat one more squeeze before moving his hand back down to your hips and forcing your hips to bounce on him a little faster.

“My pretty baby takes dick so well. I regret not fucking you sooner, coulda’ had this pussy a longgg time ago.”  Yunho let his finger slip to your clit, rubbing in pressurized circles, dragging the sweetest noises from you.

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but all that came out were strangled moans and staggering breaths. Yunho understood, though, pressing his lips against yours again.

“Cumming baby?” He whispered into your mouth, smiling when you nodded, unable to speak, too busy focusing on your impending orgasm. “Good, let go. Feel it and let go for me.”

Like the obedient slut you were for him, your spine straightened and you gasped, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking train, shotting from your toes and electrifyng your body like you had been shocked, up through your stomach to your brain, making you lightheaded.

When he felt you cum, his hips stuttered in you feeling you clench like a vice and began to speed up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- good girl, let me fuck you through it, let me get you through it.”

And thats exactly what he did, without letting up the pace, Yunho fucked into you without abandon, the slap of skin on skin echoing around the living room, mixing wth your broken whines and his concentrated groans as he made you fall apart like shattered glass around his dick.

“T-too much–!’ you cried when he continued to bully inside you, his fingers still not letting up on your overstimulated clit. “Gonna c-cum again, Yunho!”

Yunho felt himself reaching his peak, but he would do anything to get you to cum again. With newfound rigor, he rolled his hips into you rough, meanly kissing you and sucking your tongue like he was searching for water.

“Again, angel, again. You can do it.” He moaned loudly into your mouth, his fingers opting to rub your clit slower, this time pushing upward, the pressure increasing tenfold.

Yunho twitched inside of you, feeling as you toppled over the edge again, the second orgasm so much more intense than the first. You couldn't breath, cumming two times so close together. Your thighs burned, and your head spun, vision blurring for a second.

Yunho groaned loudly, bucking his hips a few final times before spilling himself inside of you, continuing to roll his hips into you, riding both of your climaxes out.

You slumped onto him, hands at your side as you regained your breath, thighs sticky, and your body stuck to his. Yunho kissed along your shoulder, allowing you to regain your senses as he came down from his high as well.

Slowly, when you were finally breathing normal, he grabbed your waist and lifted you off of him, sighing as he watched hs cock slip out of you, placing you back on the couch.

“Don’t move, I'm gonna go grab a rag.” Yunho stood up and walked down the hallway towards the bedroom. He came back a few seconds later, wearing a pair of sweatpants and carrying a black t-shirt, a pair of underwear, and a wet rag.

He sat down on the floor and gently grabbed your ankles to move your legs to face him, spreading them so he could clean between your thighs. He wiped the cold rag along your inner thighs and cleaned you well, before slipping the pair of underwear over your ankles and up around your hips.

“Here, put this on, it might get cold in here again since we’re not fucking like rabbits anymore.” You both laughed as he handed you the t-shirt. You brought it up to your face, inhaling. It was his, and it smelled like him. You felt fuzzy as you slipped it over your head, smiling when you looked down at him.

He was gazing up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, his hands rubbing absentmindedly along your calves, soothing your aching muscles and placing gentle kisses on your ankles, and up your leg to your knee.

“How are you feeling (Name)?” He waited for your response, his hand never ceasing the gentle massaging.

“Do I even need to say?” You smiled at him, and he smiled back, moving to sit next to you on the couch.

“Guess not, moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.” Instinctively, you smacked his shoulder in disbelief before the words settled in.

Your smile fell, and a worried look crossed your face. “Was I actually?” He let out a hoot of laughter at your reaction.

“I was joking but you were pretty damn loud. It's okay though, cuz you sounded so pretty.” Yunho kissed along your neck, smiling when you twitched from the tickling feeling.

Suddenly, you remembered the dinner that was still in the kitchen, and you stood up and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Come on Yu, im fucking starving and you made me forget I made dinner.” Yunho chuckled and stood up, following you to the kitchen to make himself a bowl.

With your food in hand, you sat on the couch together, with you lying between his legs, the back of your head lying against his chest as you ate together. The snow fell quietly, and the TV droned in the background as you basked in each other's presence.

“Does this mean you’ll come out of your man cave more now?” Yunho scowled at you and playfully flicked your forehead.

“Don't get smart with me, young lady…” he paused and smiled. 

“Of course, gotta give my girl the attention she deserves, right?”

[wobblingjello]

aughhh the spencer angst <\\3 I adore the way you write ur fics…if ur reqs r open could I possibly recommend spencer x reader who’s father is very very VERY similar to house md.

basically reader decides to take a very different career than her father, and would become a lawyer that often worked with the bau.

spencer and reader have been in a relationship for quite some time, so reader invited him to meet their father

OR

spencer is in the hospital for whatever reason and happens to meet their father

Hey! This is definitely not exactly like your request, but I actually already had a WIP about Spencer in the hospital situation even before the request, then I just added your suggestion on meeting the reader’s father part. I hope you like this! ^^

— Bloodline & Bullet Wound

Summary: You’ve been dating Spencer for quite some time, and it was only natural for your parents to start asking when they’d get to meet your “mysterious” boyfriend. However, you never expected that the first encounter between your dad and Spencer would be in the operating room. OR Spencer was shot, and your dad was the surgeon who led the surgery.

Genre: General, with a bit of humor (?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3011

Dating Dr. Spencer Reid was not for the weak. He was very clear about how important his job was for him since the second date, as if he was giving you an out before things got serious between the two of you. Your job might not be as significant as his was, but as someone who was also passionate about your job, you understood where the concerns came from.

On top of his unpredictable work schedule that would take him miles away from you most of the time, the very same job made you live in constant fear that something terrible could happen to him at any time. So, no, it wasn’t the work schedule that worried you the most, but the awfulness that came with the job.

In the span of 7 months you’ve been dating him, every so often, you’d spot new bruises and scars on his body. Spencer knew how you felt whenever you saw those wounds. He’d tell you those were minor wounds, and the most important part was he made it home safe.

He rarely talked about the cases they worked on, however, he always insisted that having you in his apartment when he came back helped a lot. Like the current case they were working on, for example. Three days ago, Spencer had informed you that it was a local case, in which he could go back to his own apartment every night. So, you’ve been staying at his place for the last three days.

Even when working on a local case, there was no guarantee that he’d come home at normal hours. Yesterday, he was back around 11 PM, and went back to work so early in the morning. He apologized for disturbing your sleep whenever he went in and out of his apartment, but of course you never held it against him.

Early this evening he texted you that he’d most likely stay late at the office again, and you didn’t have to wait up for him. You two texted each other a few more times before Spencer was needed to go back to the case. Then you once again fell asleep in his bed alone.

A loud ringing from your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. You blindly reached your phone on the bedside table, and answered it without even bothering to check the ID. JJ’s voice on the other side of the line woke you up instantly.

“Hey. I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest. “JJ, what’s going on?”

“Spence was shot. I haven’t heard further details since the MET brought him to the hospital. All I know is that they need to do surgery on him.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach at her statement.

Spencer.

Hospital.

Surgery.

Oh, God. Your worst nightmare has become reality. Your brain tried to remember the last thing you two talked about before you went to bed. Nothing. You couldn’t remember anything. What if you said something bad to him?

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” If she caught the shakiness in your voice, then she didn’t mention it.

“I’ll send you the details of the hospital. Garcia and Matt are already on their way there. You should contact them when you arrive. The rest of us will meet you at the hospital once we wrap things up in the crime scene. Please be careful.”

You threw on the sweatpants and hoodie, grabbed your purse and key, then rushed out of his apartment.

As you turned on the engine of your car, you keyed in the address of the hospital to the GPS. It would only take you approximately an hour to get there. If you drove close to the speed limit, while adding the probability of how vacant the street was at almost 1 AM, you could definitely make it less than an hour. 

Once your car hit the road, thankfully, there was almost no other car anywhere in sight. You dared yourself to drive as fast as you could while still being careful. The last thing you wanted was to be in an accident while Spencer was fighting for his life in the operating room.

Just like you had predicted, you made it to the hospital in under an hour. You immediately called Penelope as you walked out of the parking lot. She waited for you at the lobby, and as soon as she saw you, she was all over you — trying to assure you that Spencer would be alright, that he’d make it out alive. You appreciated her kindness, really, but right now, your mind was incapable of forming positive thoughts. No, your mind went completely blank after that phone call with JJ. Honestly, it was a miracle that you managed to get to the hospital safely.

Once the two of you walked to the waiting area, you saw Matt facing the operating room. As if he sensed another presence in the room, perhaps he did, he was an agent after all, he turned around. He looked relieved when he saw you made it to the hospital just fine. He gestured to you and Penelope to sit on the nearest 3-seat chair. 

On your left, Matt briefed you the situation as best as he could given how shaken you currently were. Penelope, sitting on your right, tried to comfort you by squeezing your hands.

It was a horrible situation. The team had figured out there were two UnSubs in this case. By the time the team cornered one of the UnSub in their hiding place, they were still trying to talk him out of the situation — hopefully they could take both UnSubs alive. As they tried to make him surrender with no violence, in some sick twisted way, the partner walked right to that situation. Not very clever of him, honestly. The team also had figured out that one of the UnSubs was messier than the other. Once the partner realized there was no way out for both of them, he started shooting. Unfortunately, Spencer, who stood the closest to the other UnSub, was shot. Eventually, both UnSubs were dead.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. Once the situation was cleared, Rossi immediately instructed the EMT to get into the crime scene. The EMT left to bring Spencer to the hospital as fast as they got in. Tara called Matt, who stayed in the office with Penelope at that time, and told them to go to the hospital. At the same time, JJ called you, and basically said the same thing.

For a split second, you selfishly wished Spencer had stayed at the office too, so none of this would have happened to him.

The rest of the team arrived at the hospital almost 30 minutes later. They all look exhausted, like they all could crash out any time soon. You spotted dried blood on Emily’s shirt — wondering if that was Spencer’s. You felt a twist in the bottom of your stomach just from the thought of it.

In the waiting area, the BAU team took turns to take a quick rest. It seemed uncomfortable given how small the 3-seat chairs were. At some point, Matt and JJ excused themselves to go home, which understandable since they had their own families.

The waiting time felt like eternity for you. Some of Spencer’s team members had told you to take some rest, but you refused to do so. You were afraid you wouldn’t be awake by the time the surgery was done. 

What was exactly happening inside the operating room? How long would it take for them to finish the surgery?

By the time it marked the 3 hours, someone walked out of the operating room. Everyone in the waiting area instantly got on their feet. The moment the surgeon took off his mask, your mouth was wide open.

“Dad!?”

He was equally surprised at the sight of you. “Muffin? What are you doing here?”

Your nose scrunched at his term of endearment. “Um, I’m Spencer’s emergency contact?” That came out more like a question than an answer.

“That —” He dramatically pointed out to the direction of the operating room. “— is your boyfriend?”

The BAU team was simultaneously shocked and amused at the unexpected family reunion. They intently listened to the exchange while looking back and forth at the father-daughter duo. Your mind was solely focused on Spencer the entire time, you completely forgot this was also the hospital your dad worked at.

You heard Emily cleared her throat at your right. “As much as I enjoy this little family reunion, can you please give us an update on Reid’s condition?” She addressed your dad.

“Right. We’ll circle back to this later, Muffin.” Then he turned to face Emily. “He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while. If he was shot one millimeter to the left, he probably wouldn’t make it. It was a miracle, really. He still needs to recover for another few days, but he’ll be able to walk out of here just fine.”

“Can we see him?” This time, it was Luke who asked the question.

“Not right now. I’ll recommend you to see him later in the next few hours.” Then he looked directly at you. “That applies to you too.” You were about to complain when he stopped you. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll personally call you when he wakes up.”

One by one the members of the BAU said their thank you to your dad, then left the hospital. They deserved that rest. You lingered in the waiting area a bit longer, wanting to have a private conversation with your dad. It seemed he also had the same thought, because he hadn’t moved from his position.

You walked up to your dad, and immediately hugged him. The moment he hugged you back, it felt like you finally could breathe again. Without you even realizing it, the tears started falling down your cheeks.

“You saved his life. Thank you, Dad.” Your voice was barely audible.

“I can’t believe I just performed a surgery on your boyfriend. Your mom will probably be mad at me if she finds out that I had met him without her.”

You knew the last part was him trying to lighten up your mood. “She’ll live. But I’m sure she’ll ask again for that dinner sooner than later.”

He chuckled at that. “That she will.” He released you from the hug, but put his hands on your shoulders. “Seriously, go home. I promise I’ll call you.”

You hugged your dad one more time before leaving the hospital.

If there was one thing that you felt grateful for today, it was the fact that it was Sunday. You didn’t even realize how tired you were until you were back to Spencer’s apartment. You couldn’t imagine if you had to go to work after what just happened. God, imagine how exhausted his colleagues were right now. You were sure you would fall asleep straight away the moment you touched the bed.

The ringing from your phone once again woke you up. This time, you checked the caller before answering. Your dad.

“Hey, Muffin. Did you actually get some sleep?” His don’t-lie-to-me tone was as clear as the sky outside.

You chuckled at his question. “I did, thank you for asking, Dad. Is he awake?” Now, you hesitantly asked him.

“Yes. He just woke up. The nurses are checking on him, but he can have visitors now. I’m pretty sure someone from the administration had contacted one of his colleagues, but maybe you want to inform them as well.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that.” You went quiet for a beat or two, then continued. “Thank you, again, Dad. I love you. I’ll see you later at the hospital.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Drive safely.”

You checked the time on your phone, past 10 AM. Well, you definitely had better sleep before, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t that bad. This time around, you took your time to get ready before leaving. You knew Spencer wouldn’t mind if you came to the hospital looking like someone who just rolled out of the bed, but you intended to spend some time with your dad too, so you wanted to look at least decent enough. The hospital was still his workplace after all.

As you grabbed your purse and key, your stomach let out an embarrassing loud noise. Alright, making a quick pit stop to the patisserie wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps bought something for your dad too while you were at it.

Before you left the apartment, you sent a message to Emily, updating her on Spencer’s condition, while also informing her that you were on the way to the hospital. You were sure she’d pass along the information to the rest of the team.

When you arrived at the hospital, you didn’t go to Spencer’s room immediately. Instead, you called your dad and asked where he was. You wanted to give him a bag full of freshly baked pastries you bought at your favorite patisserie on the way.

Once the pastries were safely delivered to your dad, and spent a decent amount of time catching up with him, you marched your way to Spencer’s room.

Even from the hallway, you could tell which one his room was. You already heard the laughter of the people in his team you started becoming familiar with. You felt the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest from knowing how much he was cherished by those people and vice versa.

You knocked on the door to announce your presence, and all heads turned towards your direction. You noticed how his eyes lit up from the sight of you entering his room. Everyone made some room for you, so you could sit on his bed. Your hand instantly found his — caressing the back of his hand while still being mindful of the IV.

You all shared stories and laughter in the tiny hospital room. Grateful that Spencer survived this horrifying event. JJ showed you the drawing her sons made for Spencer. Even the little ones adored your boyfriend. Through all of this, not even once you two let each other’s hands go.

Eventually, his colleagues bid their farewell, but not before wishing him a speedy recovery.

“Hey, angel.” He flashed you a smile.

“Hey. I want to ask how you are, but that sounds silly. I mean, of course you’re not fine.” You let out a shaky breath. “You scared me, you know?”

“I’m better now.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “So… Your dad was the one who performed the surgery on me…”

“Yeah. That was… Wild. I’m pretty sure half his soul left his body when he realized you’re the mysterious boyfriend.” You giggled at the memory of your dad’s reaction. “He said he’d check up on you later.”

Not even 5 minutes later, your dad knocked on the door. As if you had summoned him. He checked up on Spencer, notified the two of you on your boyfriend’s latest condition, etcetera, while keeping a straight face. He deserved to be applauded for his professionalism.

However, the spell broke once your dad was done with his examination.

“So, I heard you’re dating my daughter.” Your dad casually said while staring at Spencer dead in the eye.

Your boyfriend, clearly nervous, cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. It’s unfortunate that our first encounter is under such an awful circumstance.” He tried to straighten up his position as best as he could. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid… But surely you already know that since you’re currently holding my medical chart.” 

“Doctor, huh? I thought he’s with the FBI?” His eyebrow went up as he looked at you now.

“Not a doctor like you, Dad.”

“Um, I have 3 PhDs.”

“That’s impressive. Well, I’m not interested in giving you any fatherly speeches for dating my daughter. At least not while you’re still recovering. I guess I’ll see you around, but hopefully not at the hospital again.” Your dad fully turned to face you this time. “My shift is about to end. Why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure your mom will be thrilled to see you. Especially if she finds out what just happened in less than 24 hours.”

Your dad gave the two of you one last look before he was leaving the room.

“I guess it went well.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been worse. Like, you know, he could secretly dose me with something that might kill me.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because I’m dating his daughter?”

You burst out laughing at his answer. “Oh, babe. You’re as dramatic as he is. You two will be best buddies before you know it.”

“You should spend some time with your family. I’ll still be here until your dad deems me healthy enough to go home.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You glanced at your boyfriend one last time, then closed the door to his room.

You saw your dad waiting for you at the end of the hallway — his white coat was long gone. Now that he knew about Spencer, and your mom would soon know too, it didn’t really sound like a bad thing at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to introduce him to your parents, it just felt too soon. Plus, between Spencer’s unpredictable work schedule and your dad’s long hour shift at the hospital, it was quite a challenge to set up a dinner with your parents.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you were just happy that the most important people in your life would finally get to know each other. You were sure your mom would be more than happy to help you arrange the dinner, and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

A month later, an advert appears in the paper. You wouldn’t normally answer, the odds of getting caught would go up every time you do stupid shit, but your bike spoke broke. DoorDash had been suiting you just fine–you really could bike forever. But the spoke on your bike split like someone snapping their fingers and your heart sank. You used to love biking.

Plus, the advert felt targeted. Near the back of the paper, you’d been checking them every day now, and it was barely a paragraph. WANTED: Spirit or Ghoul with high endurance. Strong preference for ghoul. Flexible hours and attire. Temporary position, paid upfront. Meet at crossroads at twilight.

It was dated for that day. How presumptuous, you think, and you fold the newspaper in half and then in half again like you’re storing good wedding linen.

“I’m going out, grandma!” you call toward the drawing room.

Your grandma mutters to herself, she was a muttery person, before yelling back: “bah! No need to always tell me, you’re an adult, kitty Kate.” The statement was a little at odds with your childhood nickname, but grandma was always insisting you fly to Paris on your own or adopt a hellhound or buy a house. Well, you’d like those things too.

You're out the door in late afternoon. No heels this time, and your pantsuit had gotten a small grass stain last time so leave that too. You walk because of the bike situation, and you walk even more quickly when you’re out of your neighborhood. There were several devil’s crossroads throughout the city, most were tourist traps, but everyone agreed Old Town really did host an intersection of the otherworld. It was also a tourist trap, naturally.

You leave the sidewalk and walk up and then down several stone streets that become stonier with every block. Old Town is lousy with crowds and you suddenly wish you’d worn your pantsuit and heels. A ghoul that looks like she has a business degree might turn out better in their photos, you think.

Head down, eyes on your feet, you almost run headlong into her. She has a the same crooked smile that matches her crooked nose.

“You made it.” Stephanie is wearing a studied leather belt and a pair of black skinny jeans. You pang with jealousy–it must be easy for her to throw on pants or a long skirt and blend right in. “You’re early.”

You muster a smile and check the skyline. “Too early?”

She shrugs. “Depends on if you want the job. Come on, this way.”

Glancing around, you slide a face mask on. No way are you going to be identifiable near Stephanie and her gigs. You walk in step toward the back alleys, thick with shadows and crisscrossing side streets.

“I like the new hair,” Stephanie says as you walk.

You touch the ends of your shortened hairdo. “Thanks.” You muster a better smile. “I was going for morning weather lady.”

“Want to be on the news?” She snorts, and you don’t mention you interviewed at a local radio station. You didn’t make it to the second round. Stephanie points at her own head. “I was mainly talking about the color.”

You feel a blush creep down your neck, and you’re even more glad you put on the face mask on. Had you meant to bleach your hair the same white as hers? God, you’re embarrassing.

“It’ll fade soon.” You sigh, tosling your Weather Lady locks.

“Green?”

“How did you know?” you say dryly. “I used to tell the kids in class that it was part of a curse on my bloodline. Haunted by the ghost of grass or limes, I suppose.”

“I take it spirits aren't the source?” You kind of like that you have her attention, this stranger out of time.

“Nah.” You smile behind your mask and lower your voice, “my family’s favorite symbiote. Can’t get enough of us.” You refrain from saying the word “fungus” since no one wants to hear their companion has a mossy covering from her hair to her teeth. You’d tried dying your hair a hundred different colors as a teen and the fungus always repopulated from the scalp outward.

She laughs, dusty and a little grating. “Is that the difference between a ghoul and a spirit, then? One has phantom green and the other makes their own.”

“Something like that . . .” You are distracted by the empty street ahead. Old Town takes a drastic turn into a residential district, pock-marked by dank puddles and frayed laundry lines. The doors are firmly shut on either side of you, and Stephanie leads around the corner to a layer of bright yellow tape.

“Here we are.” She grins at the crime scene tape.

You set your jaw. “Paid upfront.”

—------------------ The alleyway has a neglected feel, straddling the line between the tourist district and the one for everyone else. An ATM sits at the corner, a soda machine, another machine just for bottled waters, and a third one, near the back, surrounded by a web of police tape.

Stephanie has you hang back until the sun splinters across the horizon and turns the sky a quilted purple. She nods, pulled her hood up, and has you duck your heads under the tape.

You follow as low to the ground as you can, eyeing the mouth of the alleyway. “Where are the cops again?”

“Getting special forces.” Stephanie rolls her eyes. “A priest. Come on.”

Crossing the yellow tape in a few bobbing steps, you see why they’re getting a priest. The vending machine is gently glowing. You cup your eyes, and press your face to the glass, glancing between the licorice packs and rolls of powdered donuts. “Jesus Christ,” you say when you see it, which is appropriate.

A fingerbone slots at the very front of the candy bar wrung, caught in the spring like a gruesome snack. The bone is sun-dipped yellow and cracking in places. You jerk back when you blink and the fingerbone reappears among the cracker packets a second later. You feel slightly ill.

Stephanie clicks her tongue. “Saints’ bone.”

“What is it doing in there?” you ask without taking your eyes off it.

Stephanie gets to her knees in a creaky, pained movement. “Some kids used it to pay.” Your mouth falls open and Stephanie cuts in, “Saints bones can be used to pay for anything.”

“Yeah--and for miracles,” you say pointedly. Like the miracle of getting stuck in a vending machine, you guess.

“Kids.” Stephanie says and makes a ‘what can ya do’ gesture. She adds more quietly, “hungry ones. And when the cops go looking for them maybe there is nothing in the machine after all. Maybe their eyes were no good and there is no illegal owning of bones or holy objects used as currency.”

You suck on your bottom lip and follow Stephanie down to your knees, hoping the kids at least got one of every kind. “Why can’t it get out?” You never see the finger move, but every time you blinked, it changed positions.

Stephanie propped open the mouth of the vending machine, wrapping her knuckles against the glass with her other hand. “Bit like a casket . . . Bones don’t leave the casket.”

You groan and peer through the vending machine slot, flexing your right hand and eyeing the finger bone. “Two hundred,” you grunt, “now.”

You get $250 for your troubles, inflation and all that. You jam your entire arm in and reach. Your eyes burn from holding them open, locking the bone in place with your gaze, and shoving half your shoulder into new, fascinating positions. The pad of your finger grazes the bottom of the bone.

“Ow!” You realize why no one else has yanked it out yet. “It bit me.” Jerking your hand back, pinpricks of sluggish black blood dribble out of the tip of your finger. Technically, the bone didn’t really bite, but it had become sharp enough to cut.

Stephanie let out a long breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t register you . . .”

You growl, “ghouls aren’t undead-undead. It wouldn’t recognize me as one of its own.” Stephanie rubs the back of her neck and you let out another groan. “Whatever. Stand back. Give me some room.”

You blink several times until the bone reappears close to the bottom of the case and you jam your whole arm in all at once. You growl, knowing what to expect now. You tell your body to forget your hand. When you yank the damn thing out, black blood sluggishly weeps down your wrist.

“Fuck you too.” You throw the bone to the ground and shake your hand out.

“Hey! Careful.” Stephanie dives on the finger bone, slamming what looked like a shoebox down on it. The lid seals and begins glowing faintly. Stephanie glances up from the ground. “You okay?”

You cover your hand with a handkerchief before she can see. “I will be.” One of your fingers may have been dangling off but your grandma had remedies for that. The moss was useful for more things than just dye.

Stephanie frowns in a way that suggests birthday party cancelations or a rash you can’t reach. She slides you another fifty. “Hazard pay.”

You plan to stay and clean up any trace of blood or fingerprints, but Stephanie grips the box in both hands and turns. “Come on. The witch said we only had until the sun sets.”

“But . . .” You look between the back of Stephanie and the machine.

She waves a hand in the air. “We’re professionals!”

Who is “we”? you wonder. But the less you know probably the better. You check that the gore is contained to her hand all the same and run after her a second later. “Are,” you swallow, panting and looking at the shoebox. “Keeping that?”

“The kid swiped it from the family’s heirlooms, I suppose.”

You grip your pulsing right hand and lower your voice further, “should they be getting it back?”

Saints’ Bones were almost always stolen, claimed by raiding soldiers generations ago or crooked thieves, and kept apart from their holy bodies. Stephanie looks both ways before crossing the street, and then turns on you. “Should, should, should. Shouldn’t you be in the military? Ghouls get paid like CEOs there.”

You study your feet, sun disappearing behind you and leaving you both in the dark. Stephanie steps in close and hands you a brick-like cellphone. “Well, if you’re interested in more gigs in the future. . . I won’t have to pay any more newspaper fees.”

A part of you considers smashing the phone to the ground, but you take it in your good hand.

“So I can mangled again?” you say this to your shoes, still gripping the phone.

She waves, weakly, and presents a meager smile when you look up. “Well, I mean, you’re good at it.”

You snort and turn away, trying to hide the sudden warmth in your chest and temptation to buy a leather belt. She doesn’t let you watch her leave and you decide to bus home for once.

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

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into series if people are interested!

WANTED

You find the advert face down on the table. You’re picking up after your grandma. She insists her mind is sharp as a tack but her empty tea cups and loose handkerchiefs and day-old newspapers litter every surface. You scan the paper, and a part of you is sure there aren’t any more jobs like this.

The paper is yesterday’s paper and the various jobs match LinkedIn: nannying and dog walker and kitchen staff. The advert, the one, is stark against the others. You read the tiny printed words over and over, always getting stuck on the word WANTED.

Your friends told you not to go: what kind of job asks you to meet in the middle of the woods? What kind of jobs has no website or contact info? What kind of jobs were advertised in the goddamn paper? You friends wouldn’t get it.

Anastasia, your best friend since third class, tells you to keep your “Find My Phone” on and call when you get there. She really wouldn’t get it. Your grandma tells you that this is the world, the other version of it, and you are her granddaughter. So go.

You walk the three and a half miles in high heels. This job probably wouldn’t even expect high heels, but old habits die hard. You were once convinced in college your girlfriend cast a curse on you, the sleepless nights and a relentless rash proved it. Now that you’re an adult, an adult-adult, you don't think so anymore. If anything was a witch’s spell, it was LinkedIn. Hours and hours of youth wasted on the same go-around.

5 years of experience and 3 different references and no street parking but the bus is only a block away. You can walk, right? Unpaid overtime and shaving your legs to go sit for an hour in an uncomfortable plastic chair. That’s an unusual last name, is it a family one? Ah. I see.

You can walk for a long while. Your heels slup, slup, slup in the soupy ground and it takes you longer than you’d like to look around. The street lights dwindle. The trees gather. The path disappears. The woods are thick and unfamiliar and an iron fence rises in the distance. Despite the late summer heat, the air smells of frost. Maybe Anastasia was right–whether you are your grandmother’s descendent or not.

She comes out of the woods on rail-thin chicken legs. Her skirt is short, cut at a horizontal angle, and she looks like where the punk scene from the 80s went to die. She has a studded leather jacket and bleach-blonde asymmetrical hair. You shove your hands in your stupid suit jacket and check the skies. Half-moon, just risen, you’re right on time.

“You here for the advert?”

“It’s half-moon, isn’t it?” you say back and flash her a tight smile. You had had a sudden sinking feeling about her ability to write you a paycheck. 

She looks you up and down. “Spirit?”

“Ghoul.” You shrug. “Yaga?” She sticks out one of her stalky chicken legs. “Servant of one. Two gens back. On my father’s side.” Your strained smile gentles. “I’m Katie.” Her smile sharpens in response. “Stephanie. Come on, let’s take a walk.” “Was that a real advert, Stephanie?” You saddle up beside her despite yourself. “Cause if you’re just here to pull my leg, know that I'm pretty hard to put down.” She lets out a harsh laugh that sounds like it hurts. “I’m counting on it.” She winks. “Now, not sure I know your line so well, what’s the difference between a ghoul and a spirit?” What is a spirit or ghoul? What was a gig worker or a salaried one? Perhaps a whole length away. Stephanie pushes a bush aside to reveal a hole in the iron fence and leads you through. The grass turns from wild heather to manicured green and you emerge into a field of rolling hills. Your skin prickles. You might be hard to kill, but not to capture. You stay low to the ground.

“Can I be paid upfront?” Her breath smells of winter frost and fresh-turned soil. “You down that bad?”

You survey the trimmed grasses and gentle slopes, the unnatural prickle spreads through your skin to your bone. A house rises in the far-distance, and you swallow thickly. “Is this some Scooby Doo shit?”

“Come on.” She pushes your shoulder. “I’ll pay upfront. The only real question is if you’ve got a pair of lungs on you.” You toss your ponytail back. “For as long as you like. But, I gotta ask, are there really not any free banshees right now?” Stephanie’s smile falters for the first time. “Old world is dying,” she snorts. “Or just buried deep enough to feel that way.” “We’re still here.” “Still here.” She slips you two hundred and takes you to the side of a small lake. The water is murky and the edges form an unnatural drop. She hands you a lightweight dress, gauzy and impossibly white, and you wrinkle your nose. You looked back and forth between the far-distant house and the lake.

It took you the whole walk to place the gate and the house and the land: The Turnpikes. Built almost seven generations back and larger than ever. You couldn’t imagine. The old world was dying, but you supposed it was also just right there. You put the dress on and kick your heels off. Gathering your stuff, Stephanie gives you a big thumbs up and backs away. You take a deep breath, you don't need many, but you had a feeling it would count.

A light in the far-distant window turns on. You see your grandma in your mind’s eye, her tangled green hair and wicked little smiles. All this for two hundred? But a ghoul isn't a banshee. You jump in feet first.

The wet and the cold and the dank water with no memory swallows you. You submerge in the tiny manmade lake, and when you come out, you come out screaming.

The fear of ghouls is an ancient one–something hard to kill. That can walk forever, fight forever, go Without forever. And you think, as you toss your head back, drip water, and let your lungs rattle in your chest, that you might scream forever too.

For two hundred bucks, a ghoul can be a banshee and a world can be made old and new and when you scream, you can scream until you’re made real again.

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

Newsletter 🧡 Pre-order my new book!

[ukytluvrs]

hiii i know you said i didn’t need to send u a request but i couldn’t help myself- thoughts on dixon!reader/chris’s sister!reader x george??

where they meet for the first time at chris’s birthday party and it’s a love at first sight kind of thing but also sort of forbidden love cause she’s related to chris…

OFF LIMITS - G.CLARKE

George clarke x dixion!reader

CONTAINS: fluff, smut (if you squint)

SUMMARY: Chris' sister is back in town for his birthday, in where she meets George Clarke for the first time.

AUTHORS NOTE: is this too niche?? never written anything 'smutty' before so I hope this is okay! thank you for requesting, sorry it took so long <3

my requests are open.

CHRIS' FLAT WAS ALREADY PACKED by the time she got there, squeezing through the crowd of people, she scouted her brother amongst them.

"You're here, finally!" Chris grinned, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late - the train ran late." She shouted over the music.

Nodding understandingly, he gently pushes her towards the kitchen, "Go on, get yourself a drink."

She makes her way to the kitchen, pouring herself a drink, when she hears someone's voice from behind her.

"youre Chris' sister, right?"

She turned around. The guy was taller than expected, with messy curls, and that familiar face from Chris' videos. George Clarke. She nodded slowly, caught off guard by how attractive he looked in real life.

"That obvious?"

He shrugged, grinning. "You look alike - you have the same judging face as he does."

She snorts, "That's true, actually"

"I'm George," he introduces, offering his hand.

"I know," she replies quickly.

"Oh?" his grin widened. "Fan?"

She raised her brow, a smirk tugging on her lips "You wish."

He laughed, "fair."

There was a pause, not awkward, just heavy with something else. Intrest? curiosity?

For the rest of the night, the two kept glancing at each other, unable to keep their eyes away and ignore the tension simmering between them.

It wasn't planned. She hadn't meant to follow him into his room, but here they were, his hands in her hair, her mouth on his. It was messy. fast. real. For a second, nothing else existed. just them, not Chris down the hall, not the music or the fact that George was passionately making out with Chris' sister. It was just them.

And it carried on that way for many months, with her frequent visits to "see Chris", but both of them knew it wasn't that (sorry Chris xoxo). There was always an excuse. She'd show up under the guise of catching up, maybe even pretend she was just in the area. And Chris? he never questioned it. I mean, why would he? She was his sister, after all; in fact, Chris liked that he got to see more of her lately. George played along effortlessly, but behind closed doors, it was different. There were quiet glances across the room, brushed hands in hallways, and stolen kisses when no one was looking. Late nights in his room with the door shut, Chris across the hall, oblivious to the fact that George was pressed against her like he couldn't bear to be apart. Some nights, it was innocent. Just talking until the morning sun shone through his bedroom windows, laughing quietly into each other. It never stayed innocent for long, though.

He'd pull her in, his hands slipping under the hem of his her hoodie like it belonged there. lips on her neck, breath hot against her skin, as his other hand made its way to between her thighs.

Sometimes, when her legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth moved against hers like he was trying to memorise every inch of her, he'd pause, just for a second and whisper her name like it was something sacred.

It was messy. addictive. and getting much harder to hide. Because no matter how careful they were, someone was bound to notice. And what were they to do then?

Anyone want a part 2?

[dissociativewriter]

hello my sweetheart, congratulations once again for 400 followers <3 you deserve many many more. <3 if possible, can i please get a fluffy scenario with me and caleb when his 3 yo daughter says ��dadda” for the first time 🥹💞 you are free to ignore this btw should it get too overwhelming <3 have a lovely day ahead. here, have some snuggles from me!!

ahhhhhhh hi honey!! giving you smooches cause you’re so sweet <3 thank you so much and omg this is such a cute ask! i did change it a little bit, just so that the daughter is younger now. i hope you like this!

request event

Tensions were high.

You and Caleb had been in a cold war for weeks. It felt like all your tactics were falling short as you sat in a stalemate.

The battleground? Your daughter’s nursery.

Months ago, when you were 9 months into pregnancy and terrified for the baby’s arrival, Caleb was reading and re-reading all the parenting tips and baby guides. He was scared, paranoid. He might not say it, but you could tell.

And in his mess of tips and tricks, he read the cause of this competition: babies typically start speaking at around 7 months.

Neither of you had said anything at the time, or when your baby girl was actually born. There wasn’t time to think of that, not when she came out with his bright eyes and your nose. You didn’t have time think about first words, because now there were first tears, and the new life of parenthood was quickly sinking in.

Caleb was a great father, just like you told him he’d be through all his fretting. Everything was already baby-proofed, every decision made now had him taking your little girl into consideration. His life was irreversibly changed, and he knew that having this little family with you was the bliss he didn’t think he’d ever reach.

He’d offered to take nights, insisting you needed your rest. He’d be awake anyway, Caleb explained, so he might as well take care of the baby while he’s up. And true to his word, with Caleb at your side, you were able to sleep through most nights.

Caleb always seemed grateful to hold her, grateful that he could be there through all of this. His hands shook ever so slightly every time he reached for her, the disbelief apparent in his eyes.

Everything was as peaceful as it could be with a newborn.

But then six months rolled around, and it seemed the both of you began plotting. Your daughter’s babbling filled the house, incoherent now but you both knew that soon those babbles would be words.

You were starting to wonder if Caleb had offered to take nights with an ulterior motive. You’d caught him, one late night, repeating “dada” to her. Over and over again, like a mantra. “You’ve got to say dada first, alright, little apple?” He’d whispered. “I’ve got to beat your mother on this.”

The next day, you’d made a show of using ‘mama’ around your daughter as much as you could. If Caleb wanted a competition, then so be it.

It went on for what felt like an eternity for the both of you, starting just before she turned six months old and ending when she was seven and half months old. You were anxious with anticipation, waiting to see what would be her first word.

It was around noon and the sun was high, streaming in through wide windows of the Skyhaven apartment. Caleb was in the kitchen with your daughter, prepping her food while your lunch was still cooking on the stove. He had her far away from anything that could possibly hurt her, his watchful eyes constantly snapping back to where she was, prepared to use his Evol to steady her or pull her away.

Caleb was talking to her as he stirred and mixed. He’d made a habit of it whenever they were together, constantly going back and forth with her as if she was holding an actual conversation instead of giggling nonsense.

“Okay, little apple, I hate to tell you this but your mama was very mean to me earlier.” He said seriously. He nodded with her as she babbled something. “I know, it’s hard to hear, but it’s true!” Caleb then proceeded to explain your most recent quarrel to your daughter, which was more brought on by pettiness and stress than an actual problem. He’d nodded along whenever she babbled, agreeing and further explaining as if he understood everything.

“Now tell me, little apple, who do you think is right?” He asked as he walked closer with her baby food.

She beamed as he approached, a wide smile growing on her face as she giggled, “Dada!”

Caleb froze. Mid-step, it felt like everything stopped. You padded into the kitchen from the living room, disbelief written all over your face as well.

“Did she just…?” Caleb’s voice cracked. He looked up at you, tears brimming at his eyes. “She just said dada!” he exclaimed. He rushed forward, laving the food on the counter as he scooped her up in his arms, pulling you in as well as he peppered kisses over both your foreheads.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “My baby girl’s talking. I can’t—” Tears fell onto his cheeks as the words caught in his throat. “I love you, so much. Both of you.” Caleb kissed both of you again, barely able to hide his grin.

And staring at his triumphant, prideful smile, you decided not to tell him about all the days you spent whispering ‘dada’ to her, too.

thank you @syncaleb for this ask!

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

taglist: @coffeedragonhobbyist @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @dolledbunnytail

[solxamber]

Winner Takes It All

The one in which they're too late.

Characters: Ace - Deuce, Leona - Vil, Jamil - Kalim

Angst no comfort!

divider credits to @chocolatebearstrawberry i love you <3

Ace - Deuce

"So, uh..." Deuce's face is redder than Riddle's hair as he fidgets with the hem of his uniform jacket. "We wanted to tell you something."

Ace glances up from his phone, sprawled across his bed in their shared dorm room. "Yeah? Did you finally figure out that two plus two equals four, Juice?"

You elbow him lightly, but you're smiling—that soft, fond smile that makes something warm unfurl in Ace's chest every single time. The same smile he's been hoarding like treasure for months, telling himself he has all the time in the world to make it his.

"Be nice," you chide, and God, he loves when you do that. Loves the way you defend Deuce but still laugh at his jokes. Loves how you've somehow managed to make your chaotic trio work when by all rights, it should have fallen apart ages ago.

"We're dating now," Deuce blurts out, and the words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Ace's phone slips from his fingers.

For a moment, the room is so quiet he can hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Can hear the way his breath catches in his throat like he's been sucker-punched. Can hear the world reshuffling itself around him, rearranging into a configuration where you belong to someone else.

Where you belong to Deuce.

"Oh," he says, and his voice sounds strange and distant even to his own ears. "Oh, cool."

You're watching him carefully, your expression uncertain. "Ace? Are you okay?"

And that—that breaks something in him. Because of course you'd be worried about him. Of course you'd care about his reaction even in your moment of happiness. You've always been like that, always putting everyone else first, always making sure no one gets left behind.

He should have known you'd fall for someone who does the same thing.

The laugh that bubbles up from his chest tastes like blood and sounds like broken glass. "Okay? I'm great! This is hilarious." He sits up, forcing that familiar cocky grin onto his face even though it feels like wearing a mask made of knives. "Deuce actually managed to get a partner before me? Man, I really am losing my touch."

Deuce flushes darker. "It's not a competition, Ace."

"Isn't it though?" The words slip out sharper than he intended, and he sees you flinch. Sees the hurt flash across your face, and he wants to take it back, wants to swallow the poison before it can spread. But it's too late. It's always too late with him.

"I mean," he continues, dialing back the venom and cranking up the trademark Ace Trappola charm, "someone had to win eventually, right? And hey, at least it wasn't some random guy from another dorm. That would've been embarrassing."

You and Deuce exchange a look—one of those silent conversations that couples have, and isn't that just perfect? You're already developing your own language, your own secret world that doesn't include him.

"We were worried about telling you," you admit quietly. "We didn't want things to be weird between us."

Things are already weird, he wants to scream. Things have been weird since the day I realized I was in love with my best friend and did absolutely nothing about it.

Instead, he shrugs. "Why would it be weird? You're both my friends. I'm happy for you."

The lies taste like ash in his mouth.

"Really?" Deuce asks, and there's something fragile in his voice. Something that makes Ace remember they're supposed to be best friends too. That he's supposed to care about Deuce's happiness.

And he does. That's the worst part. Even through the jealousy and the pain and the way his chest feels like it's caving in on itself, he genuinely cares about Deuce. Loves him like a brother. Which makes this whole situation feel like a betrayal and a tragedy all rolled into one.

"Really," Ace says, and this time he almost means it. "You're good for each other. Deuce needs someone who'll keep him from running headfirst into traffic, and you need someone who actually listens when you talk."

Unlike me. The words hang unspoken in the air.

You beam at him, relief written all over your face, and lean over to hug him. For a moment, you're in his arms again—warm and familiar and perfect—and he lets himself pretend. Lets himself imagine this is you telling him you love him back, not you saying goodbye to whatever chance he never took.

"Thank you," you whisper against his shoulder. "This means everything."

You mean everything, he doesn't say. You meant everything, and I was too much of a coward to tell you.

Instead, he pats your back and grins when you pull away. "Yeah, yeah, don't get all sappy on me. Save that for lover boy over here."

Deuce groans and covers his face with his hands. "Please don't call me that."

"Oh, I'm absolutely calling you that. And Juicy. And honey bun. And—"

"Ace!" you and Deuce protest in unison, and the sound of your laughter mixing together is beautiful and terrible and everything he'll never have.

Later, after you've both left to go celebrate or whatever it is new couples do, Ace lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. His phone buzzes with notifications—probably Cater posting something stupid on Magicam, or Grim demanding tuna.

He ignores it all.

The thing is, he'd always just assumed. Assumed you'd be there when he was ready. Assumed that someday, when he'd gotten his act together, when he'd figured out how to be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you—someday, you'd still be waiting.

He'd been building himself a fence, thinking he was being smart. Playing it cool. Not wanting to ruin the friendship if you didn't feel the same way. Too scared of rejection to risk it all.

But while he was busy protecting himself, Deuce was being brave. Deuce was showing up. Deuce was becoming everything Ace was too much of a coward to be.

And now Deuce gets to hold your hand in public. Gets to kiss you goodnight. Gets to wake up every day knowing he's the one you chose.

The winner takes it all.

Ace rolls over and buries his face in his pillow, finally letting the mask slip. Finally letting himself feel the full weight of what he's lost, what he never even tried to win.

His phone buzzes again. A text from you: Thanks for being so cool about this. Love you, Ace.

He stares at those three words until his vision blurs, knowing you'll never mean them the way he does when he types back: Love you too, loser.

The gods threw their dice, and someone way down here lost someone dear.

And all Ace can do is smile and pretend his heart isn't breaking.

Leona - Vil

The words hit him like a physical blow.

"Did you hear? They're dating now—officially."

Leona's grip tightens around his phone, knuckles going white as Ruggie's voice continues on the other end, oblivious to the way his housewarden's world just tilted off its axis.

"Vil and—"

He hangs up before he can hear your name spoken in the same breath as his. The phone clatters onto his desk, and Leona stares at it like it's personally offended him. Like it's the messenger he wants to shoot.

But the damage is done. The words are already echoing in his skull, bouncing around like shards of glass.

You're with him now.

Leona sinks back into his chair, one hand dragging down his face as something hot and vicious claws at his chest. It burns—Sevens, it burns like he's swallowed fire, like there's molten metal pooling in his lungs. He can't breathe around it.

He should have seen this coming. Should have known that someone like you wouldn't stay single forever. Should have known that when he let his pride and his fears drive you away, someone else would be there to catch what he'd been too much of a coward to hold onto.

And of course it had to be Vil.

Perfect, untouchable Vil Schoenheit. Everything Leona isn't and never will be. Where Leona is rough edges and lazy afternoons, Vil is polished perfection and ambition that burns brighter than the sun. Where Leona pushes people away with his sharp tongue and sharper truths, Vil draws them in with charm and grace.

The worst part? He can see it. Can see exactly why you'd choose Vil over the memory of what you had together. Vil won't make you feel like you're asking for too much when you want to hold his hand in public. Won't make you question if he actually cares when he gets distant and cold. Won't make you cry in empty hallways because he's too proud to say the words you needed to hear.

Leona's jaw clenches so hard it aches.

He wants you in his arms instead. And that's the thing that's killing him—you had belonged there. In his arms, in his space, in his life. You'd fit against him like you were made for it, like the universe had crafted you specifically to fill the hollow spaces he'd carried around his whole life. And for a while, a brief, shining while, he'd let himself believe it could last.

But he'd been a fool. Playing by rules he'd never understood, building walls when he should have been building bridges. Every time you'd reached for him, he'd pulled back. Every time you'd needed reassurance, he'd given you silence. Every time you'd tried to make it work, he'd found a new way to sabotage it.

Because that's what second sons are good for, right? Destroying things. Being the one who doesn't get the crown, doesn't get the happy ending.

The chair groans as he pushes back from his desk, stalking to the window. The sun is setting over the garden, painting everything gold and orange, and he wonders if you're watching it too. If you're watching it with him.

His reflection stares back at him from the glass—tired eyes, bitter smile, the face of someone who's lost everything that mattered and knows it's his own damn fault.

"The winner takes it all," he murmurs to his reflection, voice rough with something that might be tears if he were anyone else. If he were the kind of person who got to cry over lost love instead of just... enduring it.

But he's not. He's Leona Kingscholar, second prince of the Sunset Savanna, and he doesn't get to fall apart just because the best thing in his life chose someone better.

Even if it's ripping him apart from the inside out.

Even if he'd give anything—his pride, his title, his very soul—for one more chance to hold you and do it right this time.

Even if the thought of Vil's hands where his used to be makes him want to scream until his throat bleeds.

The sun disappears behind the horizon, and Leona closes his eyes.

Why should I complain?

Jamil - Kalim

"Jamil! Jamil, you'll never guess what happened!"

Kalim bursts through the door of Scarabia's lounge like a miniature sun, all bright smiles and boundless energy. He's practically vibrating with excitement, and Jamil doesn't need to guess what's put that particular glow in his eyes.

He already knows. Has known since he saw you and Kalim dancing together at last night's party, saw the way you laughed at something Kalim whispered in your ear, saw the way Kalim looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"Let me guess," Jamil says, not looking up from the paperwork spread across the coffee table. His voice is perfectly level, perfectly controlled. Years of practice have made him an expert at hiding the cracks in his composure. "You asked them out."

"Yes! And they said yes!" Kalim spins around, arms spread wide like he wants to embrace the whole world. "Can you believe it? I was so nervous, but you know how you always tell me to just be honest about my feelings? So I did, and—Jamil, I think I'm in love."

The pen in Jamil's hand stops moving.

Be honest about your feelings.

Of course. Of course that's the advice that would come back to haunt him. How many times has he told Kalim exactly that? How many times has he watched him succeed simply by wearing his heart on his sleeve, by being brave in all the ways Jamil has never allowed himself to be?

Jamil clears his throat, forces the words out.

"I'm happy for you."

And the truly devastating part is that he means it. Even as his own heart is crumbling to dust in his chest, even as every breath feels like swallowing glass, he genuinely wants Kalim to be happy. Because that's what he's been trained to do his entire life—put Kalim's happiness above his own.

Even when it destroys him.

"I have to plan the perfect date," Kalim continues, oblivious to the way Jamil's world has just collapsed. "Maybe a carpet ride at sunset? Or we could have a picnic by the oasis! Oh, or—"

"The carpet ride," Jamil interrupts quietly. "They mentioned once that they'd always wanted to try flying."

You'd mentioned it to him. During one of those late-night conversations when it was just the two of them in the kitchen, when you'd help him prep for the next day's meals and talk about everything and nothing. You'd looked so wistful when you said it, so quietly longing, and Jamil had filed it away in his heart like every other precious detail about you.

He'd planned to take you himself. Had been working up the courage for weeks, crafting the perfect moment in his mind. After the next exam, he'd told himself. After Kalim's birthday celebration. After the inter-dorm tournament. Always after, always waiting for the perfect moment that would never come.

"Really?" Kalim's face lights up even brighter, if that's possible. "You always know exactly what people want, Jamil. You're the best!"

The praise feels like a knife between his ribs.

"I should go tell them now!" Kalim heads for the door, then pauses and turns back. "Actually, wait. You don't mind, do you? I know you two are friends, and I don't want things to be weird..."

Mind? Jamil wants to laugh, wants to scream, wants to grab Kalim by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that this isn't just friendship, that Jamil has been desperately, hopelessly in love with you for months.

But he can't. Because Kalim is looking at him with such genuine concern, such innocent worry about disrupting a friendship, and it's clear that Kalim has no idea. No clue that Jamil's feelings run deeper than casual companionship.

And why would he? Jamil has spent so long hiding, so long keeping every emotion locked behind layers of duty and propriety and fear. So long being the perfect servant who wants for nothing, who exists only to facilitate his master's happiness.

"Of course not," Jamil says, and his voice doesn't even waver. "Why would I mind? You're perfect for each other."

More perfect than we could ever be.

The thought tastes bitter as poison. Because it's true, isn't it? Kalim can offer you everything Jamil can't. Freedom. Adventure. A future without the weight of servitude hanging over every moment. Kalim can love you openly, publicly, without having to hide behind carefully constructed walls.

Kalim can give you the world. Jamil can barely give you an honest conversation about his feelings.

"Thanks, Jamil!" Kalim beams and rushes out, leaving Jamil alone with the wreckage of his carefully guarded heart.

The paperwork blurs in front of him. The numbers don't make sense anymore, each figure dissolving into meaningless shapes as something hot and desperate claws at his throat.

He'd been so careful. So cautious. Waiting for the right moment, the right words, the right everything. Terrified of rejection, yes, but more terrified of what acceptance might mean. How could he ask you to tie yourself to someone who isn't even free? Someone who can't promise you anything beyond stolen moments and hidden affection?

But while he was busy protecting himself, protecting you from the complications his feelings would bring, Kalim was simply... being Kalim. Open. Honest. Brave in the way that only someone who's never had to hide can be.

The winner takes it all, and the loser has to fall.

Jamil sets down his pen and buries his face in his hands, finally allowing himself this one moment of weakness. This one moment to mourn what never was and never could have been.

Tomorrow, he'll smile and congratulate you both. He'll help plan the perfect dates and give the perfect advice and be the perfect friend, because that's what's expected of him. That's what he's good at.

But tonight, in the silence of his own failure, Jamil lets himself grieve for the love he was too afraid to fight for.

Masterlist

[stygiusfic]

this post got around a fair bit more than the handful of notes i could have expected! i originally made it as a reminder to myself of what has worked for me, because in the past when i've been trying some new habit and then broken it/lost momentum for a few days, it's easy to feel like once i've fallen off the horse i'll never get back on it.

i've been on and off and back on this particular horse consistently over the past few months, and i'm reblogging to say:

the best method is the one that makes you excited to write.

a fair number of the notes are some combination of "i should try this". like adding it to a to-do list. and i know this may not be the intent but the best thing you can do for yourself is to get rid of "should". throw "should" in the garbage.

"should" cannot apply to things you do for enjoyment. "should" is for obligations, for tasks, for the watchful pressure of The Correct Way to Do Things. "should" is not for things you look forward to doing; "should" is for things you look forward to having done.

but 99% of writing is the "doing" part, so you kinda have to look forward to it and find joy in it, otherwise why bother?

i know that's easier said than done. believe me, i'm still in the trenches. but on those days when i can't hype myself up for the "doing", it's more fruitful in the long run to be kind to myself and give myself the day off, without blame, without shame. and that means there is fewer negativity associated with writing, for me, so i can enjoy it more on the days i do want to do it.

seriously, if you take nothing else away from the method in my initial post, take this:

figure out at what point in the day your mind is best able to focus and enjoy being creative without outside pressures. it's early morning for me, but could be late at night or during your lunch break for you.

doing other stuff, especially physically active, while puzzling out problems does help. a staring contest with the blinking cursor on your document will NOT help, in fact it'll do the opposite, you won't solve it and you'll only build frustration (bad feelings you'll associate with writing, that will make you less likely to want to write). so many times i'm stuck on a sentence and i get up to take out the trash or do dishes and the solution comes to me.

figure out how to increase the positive feelings associated with writing. for me that's daydreaming at other times so my excitement is at the forefront of my mind when i sit down. you may prefer to put on a specific playlist or light a candle. whatever works!

you can skip any number of steps, if they don't help you. i'm not the boss of you. tailor your experience.

if you miss a day, or a week, or a year, you aren't a failure. that horse will be there waiting patiently for you to get back on it. (i fear this is where the analogy breaks down, considering... horses).

in order to succeed, you need to set yourself up for success, the way that works for you. it can take a while and a lot of trial and error to figure out how to set yourself up like this, but it's worth it.

good luck, and happy writing!

early morning writing hack (real) (it's been working for about a month now):

think about the scene you're going to work on that morning not when you sit down to write, but the previous evening. this is daydreaming but with purpose. think about what might happen and how the characters feel about it. get excited. don't write a single word.

go about your evening normally, doing whatever else you do. your subconscious is a slow cooker and while you do other stuff, it's working on your idea for you.

get up early, like an hour before you'd need to start your day if you were cutting it close. everyone else in the world is snoozing their alarm, so no one can bother you rn. you're free! no one can judge your writing, not even you!

(optional i guess but it really helps me) unless the first few words of your scene are already clear in your mind, warm up. I've abandoned the idea of warm-up drabbles or whatever the hell people recommend. instead, I pull up a story by someone whose writing I love, and I type out a fragment of it in a blank doc, reading the words out loud as I go. this wakes up my writing brain as I become aware of how their prose and dialogue work their magic, when and where they reveal new information, how each detail leads to the next. I'd advise doing this with work that is of high quality and purposeful, so you can learn their tricks, but I'm not the boss of you.

write!!!!!!!

don't stop to judge if it's good or not!! it's too early for that shit!! if the draft sucks you can fix it later but you need the draft done first!!

do stop once yesterday evening's daydreaming prep has run out and you're out of steam. (sometimes the momentum can reveal the next part of the story you hadn't actively considered yet, but don't depend on it.) if you hit a wall where you have no idea how to continue, or it's still too vague to put words down, trying to push through will only bring frustration. and even if you do manage to write a bit more, the chances you'll end up scrapping it later because it doesn't fit are significant. just call it there, you're done.

take a minute to appreciate what you accomplished. you now have words you didn't have yesterday. you won the day, and meanwhile everyone else is still asleep, the absolute losers

if you use a word tracker, go ahead and input your word count for the day. maybe you got a lot done, or maybe you didn't; it's a victory either way. on mornings when I've been struggling, writing and then erasing and writing again, if I'm too pissed off to check the word count I just put down a symbolic number, like 50 words. it may not look like much, but when I look at the month's stats it feels good to have proof that I showed up and did the thing even when it was hard.

now you can start your day. and frankly at this point I don't give a shit how annoying my day is, because I already did the thing I care about getting done, so I'm not going through work resenting every task for stealing brain juice I could've used for writing in the evening. "I'll write when I'm done with work" is the ADHD hubris devil speaking.

and now it's the evening and you're free to daydream again!! and use absolutely zero brain power!! wheee!!

[noctiva]

sorry guys I’m angsty today. here’s how some of the boys would break up w you.

Toby: Loud and messy. More angry than sad (the grief will come later). Tears streaming down his cheeks and shaking hands as he points an accusing finger at you. His entire body taut like he’s holding himself back from lashing out further. Calls you every name in the book. Says shit so cruel you’re left wondering how long those thoughts have been stewing in his brain.

Cuts you off in the middle of a sentence by storming out and slamming the door so hard it makes you ears ring. It’s the last time you ever see him.

You would really have to push him to the absolute brink for this to happen. Toby’s always one to try and work things out instead of letting his emotions get the best of him. He loves hard, and it’s unwavering. You’d have to do something pretty damn horrible for that to be snuffed out completely.

- “I c-can’t believe I wasted so much time on someone like you.”

-

Jack: Silent but brutal. Clinical and apathetic. He won’t be the one to actually start the fight or utter the final blow, he’ll just slowly push you away and ice you out until you’re the one to sever the ties. You can practically feel the affection leech out of him over the course of a few months. Doesn’t touch you unless you initiate it. His tone with you gets drier, more detached. Like the words you speak are muffled, and he’s just responding off of autopilot

When you finally do decide to end things, he doesn’t flinch. Barely bats an eye. He won’t fight you. He’ll agree the moment you even suggest splitting up. His ears twitch at the quiver in your voice but he won’t comment on it.

You’ll probably storm out out of frustration over his complete and utter nonchalance. He’ll be gone by the time you get back.

- “If that’s what you want.”

-

Brian: Completely out of left field. Completely blindsides you to the inner workings of his mind. Thought about ending it for months, but didn’t let it show even a little bit - continued on as normal, plastered that same old charming smile on his face, let the pet names roll off of his tongue just as smoothly as always. All while plotting the easiest way to let you down. He’s always been uncannily good at keeping his true intentions hidden, the mask he wears indistinguishable from his true self. Shame you didn’t find that out until it was too late.

He’ll take you out for a drive one night. Start the conversation out like normal. But when the silence between you starts to stretch, it feels heavier than it ever has. When he finally speaks again, he doesn’t beat around the bush. No sugarcoating, no preheating the dread by starting off with ‘we need to talk’. He just says it, point blank. Peers at you out of the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.

And of course you’re shocked. Of course you cry. But it doesn’t really phase him. He’s been preparing for this for ages now. When he comforts you, it sounds hollow.

He’ll drop you off at home with a weight lifted off his shoulders.

- “You didn’t actually expect to marry me, did you?”

-

Tim: He just leaves. Crawls out of bed while you sleep and silently packs his things into the closet bag he can find. He probably forgets a few things in the rush. He won’t miss them, but they’ll ruin your entire mood anytime you come across one of his old socks, or notice that his toothbrush is still sitting by the sink.

He’ll write you a note and leave it on your bedside table. Telling you how he’s sorry he was too much of a coward to say all of this to your face, but it’s just easier this way. He knew you’d cry. He knew you’d beg for him to stay. Doing it this way was a much cleaner break - on his end, at least.

He’ll tuck the sheets over you gently, lets his gaze linger on your face for a few moments too long - nearly long enough for him to just crawl back in bed and let this whole plan go to hell. But, that subsides rather quickly as his eyes scan across your sleeping face. You look so calm. So serene. So sweet.

He wasn’t deserving of you and he knew it. He had known from the start.

- “This was never going to work. I know you thought it would. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

-

Cody: Just shuts you out completely. The breakup version of ‘quiet quitting’. In his mind, the moment he starts to get the urge to do so - you’re already broken up. Shuts himself in his lab for hours on end and doesn’t let you in like he used to. Makes up excuses about how it ‘needs to be a sterile environment’ and that he ‘can’t afford distractions’.

Goes back to wearing his gloves around you. Wanting that barrier that he had broken down for you to go right back up again. Brushes you off every time you try to make plans with him. Short, one word answers every time you speak. Like Jack, his ultimate goal is for you to just get fed up and end things before he can, but unlike Jack - he’s less patient.

It irritates him how you try to cling on. How you just roll over and let him treat you like this just because you’re reluctant to lose him.

One day, he’ll just hit you with it. Short and sweet. And he’s walking back off and locking himself up in his lab before you can even get a reply out.

- “Your inability to take a hint is mind boggling. We’re done. Why can’t you get that?”

-

Habit: Kills you. He had joked about it when you first got together. How once he’s tired of you, he’ll just lob your pretty head clean off. It wasn’t actually a joke. You should’ve probably guessed that.

He just can’t be bothered. Would much rather avoid everything that came with a real, formal breakup. The tears, the bartering, the desperate pleas. All just trivial human emotions that irritate him so much it makes him feel nauseous. He’d much rather just put an end to that before it can even start.

How he does it depends on what mood you catch him in. Maybe he’s feeling merciful and does it in your sleep. Slits your throat so quick that you barely even have time to wake up before you’re choking on your own blood. Maybe he’s just fed up. Strangles you with his bare hands jusy so that he can watch the fear flood into your eyes - knowing that he’s serious this time.

Doesn’t even bury you. Throws you in a lake and walks off like nothing happened.

- “I told you this would happen.”

[angelltheninth]

Kissing to Believe

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, new relationship, didn't know they were dating, misunderstandings, suggestive, boner, grinding, bad at feelings

Word count: 0.9k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

Ao3

A/N: He needs therapy. Or someone who really loves him. That could work too. Both will help I think.

You and Bakugo have been... something since the start of the new school year. He had no problem pulling you in for a kiss in front of everyone and you had no problem reciprocating. And all this because he kissed you on impulse after the Dabi's attack. At the time he'd been pretty delirious and just happy to, well be alive. Since then he hasn't stopped.

It finally came to the point where, after he'd spontaneously kissed you in the hallway, his hands on your lower back, edging dangerously close to the hem of your skirt, "Hey Bakugo, what exactly are we?" You asked, a little bashful of all the eyes currently on you.

"Huh?" He tilted his head, his good mood quickly replaced by one of confusion and mild annoyance, "The hell to you mean?"

"I mean..." You sighed, not quite understanding what was it that confused him, "Are we dating? Friends? Are you just fooling around or-" The shove was abrupt, the tch audible and his face fully red as he shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking away.

"Don't fucking believe this shit. How the fuck-" You didn't hear the rest as he hurried to his dorm room. You were left in the middle of the hallway, in the sight of everyone, whispering about a lovers quarrel, how they knew that it would end like this, and something about a bet.

Lovers what now? There was a misunderstanding here on a lot of sides.

Quickly you followed after Bakugo, barging into his room and slamming the door closed just as hard. He didn't pay you any mind, laying on his bed with his back turned.

"Stop being a baby." You tried to pull him towards you only to be pushed away by him, "Bakugo! Just tell me what did I do all of a sudden?"

"Being stupid is what you did." What?

"You have a lot of nerve saying that when you're been playing with me for the past month. Now stop being stubborn and look at me." This time he let you spin him around and he used that momentum to push you onto the ground and pin you down.

"Fucking ridiculous." Bakugo growled as he loosened his tie and pushed your legs apart, the position making both of you blush but Bakugo was the faster one, surging forward to kiss you silent. It was so desperate and hungry, the way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue demanded entrance, the way his hands gripped your shoulders, the way his hips rocked against yours to keep you still. "Get it now?" Even if you wanted to reply you were too out of breath to do so, "What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?"

It was your turn to be pissed. You yanked him down by his tie and into another hot kiss, "…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public. Or your hands going down my body, you're lucky I didn't kick you in the-" His knee pressed between your legs hard, making your hips slide upwards, "You... you always do this! You kiss me, you tease me, you touch me, and then you never say anything about it! How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on in your head Bakugo? I don't have a mind-reading Quirk!"

"I shouldn't have to! You think I kiss just anyone? That- that was the first time I- damn it!" Bakugo sat back but still kept his body between your legs, his hand frustratingly raking through his spiky hair, "You know I'm not got with words and that mushy crap. So I thought my actions would be enough to show you. Everyone else seemed to have picked up on it."

"Everyone?" Thinking about it you did hear a lot of talk about you and Bakugo lately, and you did get a lot of questions about how things were going. You assumed this was because they were amused by him teasing you when actually, "We were dating?"

"I hoped we were." Oh. All those kisses, the little late night hang outs, the walks outside campus and the... heated training sessions.

"You should have just told me that you jackass!" You pulled him to the side and got on top of him, trying to ignore the hardness under you, "For your information I don't go around kissing just anyone either, I just thought you wanted to be more free. You'd be pretty popular with the ladies if you weren't so scary."

"Oy! I'm plenty popular!" That was a bold lie and blow to his ego, "And even if I wasn't I already got my eye on you so you better quit this pussyfooting around and tell me: do you want to be my girlfriend or not?!"

Finally a clear question!

"You love calling me an idiot but if anyone's the idiot here its you." Bakugo grit his teeth at you at being called an idiot but you knew how to wipe that snarl off his face, by pulling him into a kiss, the same way he did to you so many times before, just as passionate just as heated, just as rough. "Clear enough for you?"

Bakugo grinned, "Nah. You need to make it more clear for me." His hands settled on your hips, "Really clear." You yelped when you felt one hand sneaking under your skirt before you slapped it away, your face heating up which only made his grin wider.

He might be a hot head but he was your hot head now, and you would make sure everyone knew it from now on.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Sad trauma HCs because I’m feeling angsty

Please be aware of discussions of triggering topics below including discussion of eating disorders, self harm, suicidal ideation, and anxiety and depression.

Also sorry for any possible errors/mistakes, I’m typing this on my phone at work

I’ve been thinking about this the last few days, but I think EJ has an eating disorder. In my canon, he was raised in a cult, and part of the process was that he was conditioned to eat human meat while being groomed as a sacrifice for the demon he fused with. As a human, human meat wasn’t appetizing to him, he didn’t enjoy it, but he did it because he didn’t have a choice. Now, however, as a demon, it tastes good. It bothers him, how he knows he was once human, how he hated eating humans then, how it disgusted him, but now it tastes so, so incredibly good, and now he actually needs it to survive. It makes him feel less human, makes him feel more like a monster, and causes him extreme distress. Sometimes he can go months and be fine, and sometimes he’s throwing up after every meal, refusing to eat for weeks, starving himself to the point of collapse, and Slender has to sit with him and help him eat to make sure he doesn’t starve to death. He never knows when his eating disorder is going to resurface once he has it back under control, and sometimes it’s a constant fear in the back of his mind. He hates this part of himself, knowing he’s the reliant doctor to the others constantly reminding them and helping them be healthy, and yet he can’t even help himself.

Jeff has a bad habit of burning himself on purpose. After the incident, after being intentionally tied up and set on fire, he couldn’t be around fire, couldn’t even look at it, for several years. He’s started working on getting used to it, and now he can be around it, although things like bonfires making him very uneasy and anxious, but smaller flames are fine. He’s got a little lighter he carries around sometimes, a nice metal one, and when he gets a little anxious he’ll flick the cap back and light it, just sitting and staring at the flame. However, sometimes, he hovers it just a little too close, holding it under his hands or his arms, or his legs, allowing the flame to lick at and burn his skin. He feels like he deserves it, like he should be punished for all he’s done. He used to do it more when he was in his late teens, and doesn’t do it as much in his 20s now (mostly due to Slender and Liu looking out for him and trying to keep an eye on him as they’re aware of this habit of his), but every now and then they’ll catch a new burn somewhere and know where it’s come from, especially with Jeff avoiding eye contact, his eyes dewy with unshed tears. It puts him into an unhealthy spiral of feeling ashamed of his burns and scars and hating the way they look and hating having them on his body, to feeling the compulsive need to continue to add more and more and more as a form of punishment and self loathing.

BEN has been trying to force himself to get used to water with what he’s been referring to as “exposure therapy” by himself, although it’s been making his trauma so much worse. He’s been having to adapt to how he showers in the years since he’s been at the mansion, using a mix of cleaning wipes and having someone help him shower, but his depression and anxiety have made his self hatred over his trauma spiral in recent years. When he thinks the house is empty he’ll fill his tub up as far as it’ll go, and force himself to sit in it. He sobs and shakes and screams until his body shuts down and he can’t even move, the water feeling suffocatingly chilling no matter how hot he runs it. It feels like a form of torture and harm, and it is, even if he won’t admit it. If he’s struggling particularly hard, he’ll submerge his head under the water. He doesn’t need to breathe as a ghost, even in physical form, so he can’t drown anymore, but sometimes he dreams of drowning and dying again while he’s under the water, a twisted part of him thinking he deserves it, just like his dad always said he did. Slender and BEN’s closer friends like Jeff and Toby have started catching on from how shaken and traumatized he seems whenever they return home, no matter okay he tries to present himself, and they’ve been making sure that BEN is no longer ever left completely alone in the house anymore. They’ve also been making sure whenever BEN needs to clean himself or shower, he no longer attempts it alone, and has to at least have someone in the room. BEN feels embarrassed, hates himself for being so weak he can’t even do it alone, no matter how much people try to reassure him that it’s okay and he’s not weak, that he just needs help and that’s okay.

Tim has started having severe anxiety attacks on a regular basis. While his own trauma isn’t that bad all things considered, he’s been trying to take everyone else’s onto his plate, been trying to help as many people as he can, and he’s overwhelming himself. He can’t handle the weight of trying to help so many traumatized people at the same time, his mind constantly running trying to think of who needs help, a shoulder to lean on, who needs comforting. Even trying to manage Toby alone is an extremely difficult task with his own level of trauma, but Tim is trying to juggle everyone at once. When he’s alone at the end of the day he collapses, sobbing and shaking and getting nauseous, sometimes throwing up from stress and anxiety, pushing his body to its limits. Some nights he can’t even sleep because he’s so overwhelmed, and that makes it so much worse. Brian and Slender have started catching on that something is wrong with Tim, but they haven’t fully caught on to the severity. He lays collapsed in a heap on his floor, eyes wide, breathing ragged, choking on the anxiety of taking on so many problems at once. Sometimes the others notice, politely deny his help when he offers it, noticing the dark circles and anxiety behind his eyes, telling him he should rest instead, but his inner perfectionist tells him he’s not trying hard enough. He’s become so dependent on being the responsible, dependable brother figure that he can’t be anything less than perfect at it.

[dollkuna]

the digest. when toji turns up to your door every night, covered in cuts and bruises, it's impossible not to turn him away.

it's like clockwork. every night, around the same time, you're curled up on the couch, waiting. your eyes are closed, breathing steady, head tilted up, listening for the familiar rapping against the door.

his presence in the house is like clockwork too, even though he left all those months ago. you're not sure who the bigger idiot is: him for never giving up, or you, for always letting him in.

"god, toji," you mutter, the same frown etched on your face. "you're so reckless."

he just chuckles, a sound that's part amusement, part bitter resignation. "c'mon, doll. you tell me that every time. got anything new for me?"

you shove his shoulder, a little less than gentle, and he winces. the blood-stained rag you were using to wipe his wounds gets tossed to the side. all you can manage is an eye roll. the truth is, you're worried sick about him. that's why you can never bring yourself to send him away.

"miss you, y'know," he adds, his gaze trying to read your expression.

"then you shouldn't have left," you say, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. it's as if all the love and warmth you once had for him has vanished. it stings him, and he hopes you can't tell.

the truth is, he went soft, really soft, especially for you.

and, like any emotionally unavailable man, he panicked. you wanted him to put a ring on your finger, and he just wasn't ready. he's not mad at you for that, of course not.

he should have been doing more for you, everything you deserved. you had started to see that too, and it was his worst nightmare. how much longer could he have strung an angel through the dark?

toji clicks his tongue. "i know. i'm sorry."

you pour antiseptic on another one of his wounds, a little more than necessary, and he clenches his jaw against the sharp sting. "you're late."

"you won't take me back? even if i get on my knees, beg all pretty?" you look up, met with a small, hopeful smile from him. he's trying to make you laugh, and you hate how your heart still warms at the attempt.

"toji—"

"i'm serious, ma. i mean it. i'll be better. no more gambling, no more secrets, nothing." you can't quite describe his tone; you can't pick out a single emotion. but he sounds pleading, desperate. he cocks his head, silent for a moment. "unless... you don't love me anymore?"

you hesitate. it's hard to admit. "i never stopped," you say quietly.

"one more chance, baby," he murmurs, gently pressing his forehead against yours. "that's all i need." you don't pull away, and he counts that as something.

"i just don't want you to hurt me again." toji hates how vulnerable you sound, but he's quick to offer comfort.

"never again," he promises, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "shoot me if i do."

it's enough to elicit a watery laugh from you. "i'm gonna hold you to that."

toji's never felt this relieved before. "hold me to whatever, as long as i get to be with you."

you take the chance. you believe him.

[peekofhistory]

Hi! Love your Tumblr! I'm fascinated by the fact that you are in China making and playing the Guqin, I was wondering if you can share a bit more about yourself and your background and why you decided to move to China? Like a self intro (that you're comfortable sharing). Thanks and have a nice day!!

Hello :D

How I ended up in Yangzhou learning to make/play the Guqin is a rollercoaster of a story xDD

As for my background, I was born in China (Beijing) and moved to the US when I was around 6 yrs old (my mom had moved several years earlier and I went to live with her). From the start my mom emphasized I can't forget I'm Chinese, because that's where I'm from and where my family's from, so she put in a lot of effort teaching me Chinese. She even had a colleague send over elementary school textbooks from China so she could teach me Chinese at home. She also got recordings of some Chinese TV shows and she'd watch them with me, explaining each episode and giving me information on that period of history.

Back then there weren't that many TV shows in China, and the ones we could access in the US were even less, so it was mostly classics shows like Journey to the West (1986), Dream of the Red Chamber (1987) and Romance of the Three Kingdoms (1994):

That really planted the root for my interest in Chinese history and culture. Especially in the case of Romance of the Three Kinggoms that was based on the actual Three Kingdoms period in Chinese history, it made me aware of how long China's history was and how rich and colourful it was, all the incredible historical figures, the battles of the past, the stories, etc.

Later on I also became interested in Chinese Opera (mainly Peking Opera, Huangmei Opera, and Shanghai Yue Opera):

We moved to Canada after a few years and stayed there until I graduated uni. I then went to Japan to work for a few yrs.

When I returned to Canada, it was 2018 and I found myself having to start all over career-wise. My experience in Japan really didn't help me at all when job hunting in Canada, and I ended up doing a few entry-level jobs in healthcare (office admin work). Then Covid and I lost my job, found another job about a year later, but still entry-level.

It was actually during the Covid break that I found out I could buy Hanfu fairly easily now. Throughout my time at uni and in Japan I didn't really check Chinese websites so I didn't know much about what was happening in China. During the Covid break, with nothing else to do at home, I found Taobao and realized the pretty clothes I adored in TV shows as a child I can now buy :D I went a bit crazy at first and ordered a whole bunch, but at the time I honestly didn't know too much about Hanfu aside from long robes, large sleeves, criss-crossed collars. But it was fun to wear them out (once lockdown ended) and actually feel like the characters I once saw on TV:

The job I had just before I came to China I actually really enjoyed, the work itself was fulfilling, the pay wasn't great but OK, and my co-workers for the most part were pretty good (my direct supervisor was great, I really, really enjoyed working with her). Unfortunately there was some changes to staffing in the office and the workload became really bad. I found myself literally having nightmares about work, and crying driving to and from work everyday. I decided I needed to quit. It was taking over my life 24/7, I was constantly tense and dreaded having to go to the office every morning.

At this point I'm in my late 30s and I took a few months to think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Either look for another regular office job that may or may not be better than the last, or try something completely different.

At the same time, I decided to take the chance to visit my family in China. Without a job, I could visit for a longer period of time (otherwise I could only get 2 wks paid vacation). I remember my mom mentioned during one of her visits to China she had met a master of woodblock printing (雕版印刷/diaoban yinshua). It was the first form of printing invented, they would carve out pages of text (or images), put ink over top, then print it onto paper:

This was even earlier than movable type printing (活字印刷/huozi yinshua) where each character was printed on a separate block so you could arrange them as needed:

This master's workshop took in apprentices and would offer free housing and food. After a certain amount of time, once the apprentices' work reached a certain level, they were even given a salary for their work.

I thought that sounded like a great plan. I didn't explicitly come to China with the goal of finding a place to do an apprenticeship, but I was aware this sort of opportunity was available, and it aligned with my interest in Chinese history and culture.

When I arrived in China last year I spent a few months visiting my dad and other family, before I ended up in Yangzhou.

There were some emotional ups and downs in between, I did find a woodblock printing master, I started to learn a bit with him, it didn't work out, etc., etc. But essentially I found myself in Yangzhou with nothing to do.

Yangzhou is quite famous for Guqin (there's an entire street here dedicated to selling Guqin...although it's a bit of a tourist trap ^^;;) , and I thought I could find a teacher to learn how to play the instrument at least. I had bought a Guqin years ago in Canada, but was always too busy/lazy to actually learn/practice it, but now being free everyday I decided I could do some sort of intense course. While scrolling through the Red Note app looking for Guqin teachers I came across a post of a teacher looking for students to learn how to make+play Guqin, with the option to live at the workshop and have housing and food covered:

And my eyes lit up.

That was how it all started :D

The biggest obstacle is honestly some family members. Growing up abroad, I've never really had a close relationship with any of my relatives in China. I've also never had to navigate the complicated family relations that Chinese families can sometimes have. If I were to go to any other country in the world to learn something, none of them would say anything, I don't think they'd even think about it, but because I'm in China a lot of them suddenly feel they need to express an opinion about my decisions, lol. Some don't like my interest in wearing Hanfu, some think I'm crazy learning something that "no one else these days is interested in", some think I'm immature/irresponsible not finding a 'regular' job and 'wasting' my time. Luckily, none of them live in Yangzhou so aside from a passive-aggressive text message/phone call once in awhile I can do my own thing 😁💖