#and i need a regular sleeping pattern

[margecouture]

setting boundaries with yourself ☁️

setting boundaries with yourself is an important aspect of self-care and personal growth. here’s how setting boundaries with yourself looks like:

having a bedtime. having a consistent bedtime is crucial for improved sleep quality which leads to better sleep and more restful nights. this also creates routine and structure which can be comforting and beneficial to managing daily responsibilities more effectively. regular sleep helps maintain energy levels, preventing the afternoon slump and reducing the need for caffeine. so, find a helpful bedtime routine to get settled in and get a good nights sleep around the same time each night.

not believing all thoughts as truth. remember that THOUGHTS ARE NOT FACTS, so accepting every thought as truth can lead to distorted perceptions which leads to mental fog or an unhealthy mental state. when negative thoughts arise, practice mindfulness by meditating or journaling. question your thoughts by asking yourself “what evidence do I have for this thought?”. identify those thinking patterns and remember that thoughts are like clouds passing through the sky—temporary and ever-changing.

eating foods that make you feel good. junk food may taste sweet and look good but they aren’t healthy for your body in any way. use mindful eating by paying attention to how different foods make you feel & avoid foods those that leave you feeling sluggish or uncomfortable. eating foods that are rich in nutrients like omega-3 fatty acids, vitamins and minerals can improve your mood and mental clarity. this includes, salmon, leafy greens, and berries. healthy snacks such as, fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, and popcorn are helpful when facing cravings. remember to plan your meals, stay hydrated, and maintain balance.

doing hard things in the moment to create your desired future. doing hard things in the moment is like planting seeds for your future. tackling challenges head on allows you to develop skills, gain resilience, and learn discipline. it’s like building the foundation for your own dreams and setting your own self up for success. by handling what’s in front of you, you are preparing yourself for bigger opportunities and making the most of them when they come. picture your desired future as a beautiful garden that requires dedication and hard work, but it is necessary for your garden to bloom.

sticking to your word. keeping your word is crucial in building trust and reliability. this makes it easy for people to rely on you but also for you to rely on yourself. you set a standard for yourself which encourages discipline, self control and commitment. having confidence in what you are set out to do helps you to grow as an individual. as the saying goes, “Follow your plan, not your mood.” stay committed to your plans and goals and always give it your best. you only fail if you don’t try, no matter how small or how big the task may be.

setting boundaries with yourself is an act of self respect and is about creating habits that align with your long term wellbeing, even when they feel difficult in the moment. each step builds a stronger and more aligned version of you. keep honoring yourself! ☁️

[vanilleandclove]

how to disappear; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

pittsburgh is roughly 58 square miles, large hospitals in metropolitans are usually 1.2 million square feet. only making ptmc extremely confining with a certain trauma surgeon and senior attending physician in the emergency room especially during hostility.

warnings: emotionally constipated adults, language, talks of children and marriage, semi-medical accuracies (i have several immediate family members in the medical field, this is basically in my regular lexicon), gore adjacent, mentions of past sex, age gap: reader is 30-33, jack is 47-49. word count: 4.1k notes: mdni. call me disorganized, my oc fic is on HOLD, until further notice :3. this is part one of two (?) ask/requests are open!

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“I thought you were working day shift?” Parker asked, your eyes blinked roughly as they adjusted to the bright light of the patient’s board, “What’re you doing stuck down here?”.

“They requested for me to have a change of schedule to be on-call, couldn’t say no to the generous pay raise” you responded, cocking your head slightly to meet eyes with Parker, “Plus night shift always gets the most carnage”.

“You’re sick, you know that?” Parker chuckled, fist meeting your shoulder playfully before she walked off. 

Clipping on your hospital ID was muscle memory, both Heather and Robby referred to as “overworker’s disease”, you saw it as being stuck in the place for several years at a time.

You needed a vacation, sweaty hot sex, vodka, or weed; or maybe just all of those in that order. Your eyes were glossed over from the eyedrops you have administered before leaving Jack’s house, they did good to conceal the hours of crying and bloodshot eyes. 

But Bridget saw through that puffiness and reoccurring sniffle that matched the pout of your lips, she knew you well like you were her own daughter. She knew your breathing patterns were shallow and uneven, the eyebags that became a more pigmented purple, the constant fiddling of your rings. 

She knew you needed a break, a break in bed where you could cry it out and come back renewed with extra hours of sleep and extra takeout. 

“Honey, are you okay?” Bridget inquired, taking off her glasses and tucking them in her scrub undershirt, “You seem out of it”.

Your eyes darted towards her and all you could give her was a nod as you became tight lipped, worried that if you unclench your jaw for a second you’d break. Nevertheless, Bridget smiled and rested her hand on yours, knowing all too well what happened to you. 

What Bridget saw was your hair blown out but tucked up a tortoiseshell claw clip for it to be out of your way. She saw manicured short french tip nails, residue of black eyeliner in your waterline, hints of matte red lipstick that must have been taken off in a rush as it made your lips look as if they were bleeding. She saw gold bracelets of all different textures and patterns, rings stacked beautifully and meticulously, necklaces that would accentuate cleavage with the right dress, diamond earrings that twinkled when moving under the LED lights. 

She saw a woman who had just got stood up. 

“Good evening everybody”.

And she just stumbled upon the reason. 

You closed your eyes and sighed under your breath. 

Luckily being a different specialty department, you weren’t required to be given the gist of speeches by the physicians and nurses. Some may say it due to surgeons being “above”, you say it’s because of different structures in departments- you can learn just as much during rounds in the emergency room as you would post-op, if not, you’ll learn more. Therefore you were able to walk off into the bathroom.

You enjoyed your job, you were grateful for your job that led you to places you never thought you would be. You were grateful for the smiles, the laughter, the songs the patient requested to be played during surgery, the parents or loved ones that would hug you tight, and yes, the gore and carnage. 

You were also grateful that it led you to Abbot. 23, you were fresh out of an internship in Massachusetts, then you wanted a change of scenery. By 26, frequent hookups at your respective places were a casual way to start, end, and continue a week; just in time for your residency to finish and your fellowship to be fast-tracked due your rotations in the emergency department and competency exams. Hookups turned to dating by your 27th birthday, months later, Jack’s house was basically yours too. Now, you’re the attending who’s trying her hardest to hold it all in because a man decided no more to the most constant thing in your chaotic life- in a chaotic profession. 

You had put on a silk dress that flowed perfectly enough to accentuate your curves, you wore lingerie, black heels, and smelt fucking amazing. You shaved, you wore your expensive lotion you could only justify using on special occasions, you wore jewelry you’ve collected over the years and that Jack had given you. You went the whole 9 yards and more. 

“Okay so what is it?” you asked, sighing in defeat and barefooted in the living room, “You don’t want to go out, don’t want to talk about something you know I care about. Fuck Jack, you don’t even look at me when you know this is important”. 

“Sorry I didn’t know dinner reservations were imperative to having a conversation with you” Jack scoffed, stressed and unnerved, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus christ just forget about dinner!” you raised your voice, your throat began to slowly burn, “I don’t care about dinner Jack. I care about being appreciated from my boyfriend when I put on a fucking dress and heels. I care about you walking into that door every morning and kissing me. I care about having sex and ordering fucking pizza” you ranted, your time was almost up as it crept closer to your shift.

“Do you want kids?” he blurted.

“What?”.

“Do. you. want kids?”.

You blinked in confusion, swallowing whatever you had planned to say and again to collect what he had just proposed. “I would like to have kids but with my job and yours, that seems unlikely. I don’t mind not having them”. 

“There was a positive test in the trash two weeks ago that you didn’t think to tell me about” he cleared his throat. 

Your brows furrowed, “It was a false positive, Heather did a work up with full labs for me” you looked to the ground not noting that it would’ve also been nice for him to know both of those things. “If a pregnancy test is sending you to avoid me like the plague; we have a bigger issue here Jack”. 

“It would’ve been nice to know that you were afraid you were pregnant that you told Collins before me”. 

“Do you think I’m punishing you for withholding information that was irrelevant to me after a day?” you were shocked almost, still confused at the hostility, “I wasn’t afraid of being pregnant, I was afraid of false hope”.

“I don’t want kids, that’s just not something I see in my future”.

“Our future” your voice began to crack more and more. Kids weren’t a dealbreaker by any means, the way Jack worded it to be something exclusionary in regards to you is what broke you. “I need you to tell me if this is what’s causing you fucking hurt me”. 

“It’s not- I just think we have a misconstrued view on the future of this” he pointed to both of you back and forth. 

“Jack forget about the sheer possibility of kids, why are you being distant?” you took a step closer as he took a step back, the action only shattering your heart more, the tears began to flow as you straightened your back, “What about marriage?”.

“Same as kids”.

You nodded, looking away from him, “I’m not going to change your opinions about either of those, I’m not going to try”. You inhaled before a sob erupted from your throat, “I have to be able to want those things without feeling like you’re going to walk away. God, you never once spoke about this before so why now? Why all of the sudden vows and kids are a dealbreaker when- if I remember this correctly- the past year you’ve been asking for baby names and what rings I would like? Was it just for show? Was I just for show?”.

“Of course you weren't,” he sighed yet again, his eyes piercing yours, “You’re you, I guarantee you’ll find someone else who wants both of those”. 

“I don’t want someone else Jack” you whispered, one tone louder and you’ll be a wreck in front of him. 

Silence creeped over the room and nothing but the shudder of your breath filled the room, “I guess this isn’t working” his own voice cracked as if his mind betrayed his actions. With that, years of your heart shattered.

“I guess not”. 

Jack was the same guy who held your legs as they rested on his during football games. The guy who tied the strings of dresses and kissed your shoulder, who stared in awe while you did your makeup, baked and cooked with you, danced to his best effort with you. Watched ‘Game of Thrones’ and ‘House of the Dragon’ with you every sunday without fail, not shy of commentary. 

He would fix your hair after sex, clean you up in the en-suite with warm water, would make your toes curl around his waist as an orgasm washed over you, would coax another orgasm out of you. He would massage your clit, knew exactly where your g-spot sat, made your breath hitch and your eyes roll back. He never pressured, only asked a near sixty times if you were okay and comfortable. He would never degrade you even if asked, the most he’d do would be spitting in your mouth and lightly choking you. Wasn’t shy about having his dog tags pulled or you wearing them, loved the twinkle in your eye every time his cock grazed the right spot. The man was a dog. If you forgot an undershirt under your scrubs, his cock would strain from the veins coating your breasts, the slightest graze would send him on a frenzy when you’d get home if both of you were up for it, loved the lingerie just as much as he loved you in pajamas and a worn out shirt from college. 

The same guy that would squeeze the back of your neck to relieve your worries, text you mid-shift about your wedgie and would fix said wedgie in passing, would wash your hair and body. Would watch every movie and TV show with a thousand questions, stare idly at you during every get-together as you mingled on your own with Heather. Every Fourth of July he spent with you, he was at ease, not jumpy or had his heart racing- you thanked therapy, he thanked you. 

He’d stand in front of you and be the same guy during company basketball and baseball games that coached you on the sidelines, guided your arm, gave you water. You wanted to marry him, your parents always said when you do get married, it should be with someone like him if not him. You wanted rings, his and her matching towels, garter tosses and to take off his suit in the same night. He knew that, hell the whole emergency department was well aware of your dream wedding that changed every now and then.

Now you stand there beneath yourself because that is all gone on a random Wednesday. Didn’t wait for the weekend for it to settle, for hell to freeze over. While you went crazy thinking the worst, you had a job to do, and it was barely August. 

Luckily, new staff and medical students were reserved for day shift, meaning you were secretly praying for both Robby and Collins sake. 

“We have a male MVC victim, 10 minutes out, Abbot wanted you on standby” Parker opened the bathroom door only to be greeted with your meltdown, “You okay? Want water or coffee?”.

You shook your head only for her to fully allow herself in, “You and I both know the way you’re crying is going to lead you to dehydrate” she continued, “What happened?”.

“We broke up” you responded, curt and without remorse, “I don’t want to talk about it”.

“Okay, but just know you can always go home”. 

“He’s home”.

You spent two minutes in there trying to gain your composure, worried that the MVC wouldn’t get the most accurate and resourceful amount of care with you like this. Splashing water against your face before exiting and being greeted with the beaming emergency department lights. 

You checked up on three different patients, smiling and asking if they were comfortable and okay with waiting just in case the MVC took up more time than usual. As you left the last, the MVC arrived and both you and Abbot occupied opposite sides of the gurney. 

The EMTs were able to stabilize him as much as they could, “Breath sounds are good so far a little too crackly but acceptable, there’s rigidity in his abdomen I need an chest scan to confirm bruising- I’ll call they always fast track me” you told Jack as you approached the trauma room, grabbing the phone as he took over, “Hey it’s Doctor L/n, I need a chest CT for a MVC victim, his abdomen is rigid and slightly distended with crackly breathing. No- I need you to take me up now, we’re already in a trauma room- okay, thank you see you there”. 

Turning back to Jack, evening out the creases in your navy scrubs, “They’ll take him now, I’ll take him up” you whispered, grabbing a hold of the gurney from the bottom, “Can you open the doors?” you asked, “Get Walsh for me too, if it’s something with his abdomen I shouldn’t do exploratory”. 

“You don’t only do exploratory surgery Y/n” Jack posed the statement as if you were undermining yourself for Walsh to be the scalpel junkie this shift.

“I know, Walsh is still learning the ways of being an attending, if anything I’m making sure she’s equipped to be in my stead when I’m not here” you argued back only for the MVC victim to regain his consciousness, “I know what I’m doing Doctor Abbot”.

“This morning it was babe, by the afternoon it was Jack, now it’s Doctor Abbot?” he queried, as if the whole ‘I guess this isn’t working’ bit was a skit. 

“Last time I checked this wasn’t-“ you looked down to the gurney to see a conscious man with a smile on his face, “Good evening sir, I’m Doctor L/n, you’re at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, I will be taking you up to CT now” you feigned a smile and eyed Jack, he knew that look.

The ‘we’ll talk about it later’ look. 

“You’re in good hands sir” Jack waved off. 

The elevator ride was calming, the tension in the trauma was thick enough to cut with a knife. You learned his name was Raymond Orser, he had a wife and a daughter, served a couple tours in the military, his sister lived in Pittsburgh while he lived in Philly. 

“So, what was the deal between you and salt and pepper?” Raymond asked, his breathing less labored as you both exited out of the elevator.

“Salt and pepper? Doctor Abbot?”.

“Or babe whichever you prefer” Raymomd joked, “Must’ve been a tough fight, my wife and I were the poster board for marital arguments about silly things- one time after my daughter was born we argued about the way the cereal box closed”. 

“He’s not my husband Mr. Orser, technically he’s just a colleague” you told him. Eyeing around you to see who was there, “We dated for 6 years today, it’s our anniversary, was supposed to wine and dine him before our shift but…”.

“Ah. You know, I’m only 39. I’ve spent a great deal of it loving my wife before I had even met her." You made a face that exuded confusion, “I know you’re looking at me crazy, but you just know. When’d you meet Doctor Abbot?”.

“When I was 23, about to be 24, he was also relatively new; he beat me by 3 years. Didn’t start dating until I was 27 and he was 41” you confessed, “What about you huh? How old is your daughter?”.

“She’s seven, had her after I got discharged. My wife and I had a shotgun wedding, very intimate”.

“Okay, we are just about to go into CT, I’ll be on the imaging side, you’re going to feel a little fluid in your IV, it’s to highlight and pinpoint what’s going on internally. I need to know if there’s any metal on you like jewelry below or above the waistline”.

“No, just my wedding ring”.

“That’s fine, this arm is going to stay up away from the imaging zone for the ‘highlighting fluid’, you’re going to feel a bit warm throughout your body, completely normal. If you feel nauseated it’s also pretty normal, we keep a wastebasket on standby so no worries” you clarified, giving him a smile before handing him off to the nurses. 

Going into the radiology room, both the radiologist and technician glanced over to you, “Good evening” you greeted, “His abdomen was rigid and slightly distended, did Foreman tell either of you?”.

They both nodded, putting on their glasses and administering the contrast fluid. “Any plans for the morning L/n? You and Abbot are celebrating your anniversary today, no?” Jackie the radiologist asked, her hand not leaving the mouse and her eyes leaving the desktop.

You shuddered under your breath, inhaling deeply, “Yeah, might just stay in today”.

As the scans progressed one thing became clearer, there was a bleed in Raymond’s organs, non-septic, but still worrisome. You immediately grabbed the intercom mic, “Okay Ray, the nurses are going to get you settled back downstairs for a work up, I’ll go over your scans with Doctor Abbot”.

Turning to the left you grabbed the phone on the desk and dialed for the emergency department, “Hi Bridget, I’m sending Orser down, the MVC victim. He has a rib fracture that's causing internal bleeding, a tension pneumo but his breathing sounds were clear- lightly shallow” you cleared your throat, “Tell Abbot to do a finger thoracostomy, I’ll meet him down there”.

Afterwards you phoned the surgical wing, “Good evening, I need an OR available on standby, I have a MVC victim with a tension pneumothorax and internal bleeding”.

Some days cardio and general hogged the ORs, trauma and the emergency department always had an OR prepped in the morning shifts. Gloria liked to boast about her surgical teams, how each specialty had their own set OR.

Heading down to the emergency room, it was less chaotic on the surface- the waiting room said otherwise. Every room was filled minus the trauma rooms, the hallway had spillover, and curtains were drawn. You decided to take your leave to peds, being greeted with a little girl with a rattling cough.

“Good evening, I’m Doctor L/n, who is this princess?” you greeted, snapping on your gloves.

“Your scrubs are different” the girl mentioned mid cough.

“Sorry, this is Amanda, she’s been having this ugly cough for two weeks, she woke up choking on phlegm” a woman spoke up, “I’m her aunt, her mom’s on her way”.

“Ah okay, well, Amanda, my scrubs are different because I’m a surgeon here. Don’t worry, you’re not a surgical case, I just help down here” you clarified, putting your stethoscope on her chest, “Did she cough up phlegm, if so what color?”.

“It was brown, though in the car she had a cough attack and I swear I saw red”. 

“Any history of asthma? Was she around any strong fumes?” you asked, “Amanda can you give me two big inhales and exhales?” you requested, putting your stethoscope on the girl’s back. As she inhaled and exhaled, all you heard was rattling.

“My sister- her mom has asthma, nothing too serious, she self carries though. Mandy got sick last week, her fever was moderate but she sweated a lot of it off during her sleep”. 

You nodded, putting your stethoscope back around your neck, “I’m going to order a chest x-ray, from the sounds of it, Mandy here has acute bronchitis, probably from a viral infection that went unnoticed” you smiled to them both, “Is she allergic to paracetamol or ibuprofen?”.

“No, just soy”.

“Perfect, due to her age, I’ll prescribe extra strength Tylenol and an albuterol inhaler, two puffs about 5 seconds apart when needed to stabilize your lungs sweetie” you told her aunt, walking out to tell Bridget for an x-ray on Amanda. 

“Abbot’s asking for you in south 14” Bridget said as you walked off, all you gave was a nod.

Opening the door and being met with a scene you would not have guessed to stumble upon out of the confines of your home. “Bridget said you wanted to see me?”.

“I’m not a prideful man” he sighed, you moved closer to the hospital bed he sat on, his prosthetic beside him, he was rubbing a cream on his stump- it smelt like eucalyptus. Jack never complained of phantom limb pain, though his hip would hurt every now and then. “But I do know that I am self-conscious”.

You remained silent, allowing Jack to speak. You did most of the talking earlier, now, it’s his turn. “I don’t know if I’ll be a good dad, weddings require some level of dancing that I just can’t put aside that difference to give to you- and I want to, I can’t shake that feeling” he sucked in a deep breath, “There are days where I have coax myself off the ledge, today being one of them”.

“Jack I-” you sighed in disbelief, “I don’t care about those things- ever- you’re not taking away anything by us not having kids or not getting married-”.

“You want those things”.

“There was a point in my life where I wanted you, one thing I know for certain, I never regretted it. Though I would’ve regretted not doing anything, you gave me the best sex of my life” you joked lightly, “If loving you and being with you means I don’t get a wedding or kids, then I’m okay with that. Though, you would be one hell of dilf”.

He chuckled at the comment, “Shit, I’d be in my 60s by the time the kid was in high school”. 

“Still my sexy man” you commented, “I love you okay? But we have a job to get to and a vet who is keen on you”.

“Orser?” Jack questioned as he stood up with your assistance, popping his prosthetic back into place. You nodded, giving him a longing look, “I can’t kiss you- wouldn’t be able to stop”.

“Yeah yeah, happy anniversary cowboy” you smiled, feeling your phone vibrate with a page to the OR, “Shit, emergency surgery”.

“I love you cowgirl” Jack spoke up as you ran off. It was already 4:30 in the morning, the heat kept piling up. 

The surgery was needed for a thoracotomy on a 67 year old who took a fall down her stairs which caused a cardiac tamponade, it took 2 hours and 40 minutes to repair, drain and control her hemorrhage. Caught early, it took less time than usual. You reeked of pungent acid with a hint of metal from the blood, afraid it was stuck in your hair.

Luckily your shift was over 10 minutes ago, you gathered your things and looked around for Jack, being greeted with Heather and Frank.

“Dana, have you seen Jack? Good morning to you all” you stretched, looking around to see no sight of Jack or Robby.

“Up on the roof with Robby”.

“Jesus, the midlife crisis twins” Frank joked under his breath, only to be met with the dirty looks of you and Heather.

“When he comes down tell him I’m in the truck” you sighed, tapping on the desk before letting your hair down from the clip that has held up your hair through blood and way too many body fluids.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[fayelero]

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment with Atsumu, casting a warm glow across the hardwood floors. You had just returned from your morning run when you noticed a sleek black package sitting innocently by your door. The distinct white Chanel logo made your heart skip a beat.

"No way..." you muttered, picking up the package with trembling hands. Just last week, you had casually mentioned how beautiful that new Chanel collection was while window shopping with Atsumu. You specifically remembered telling him, "It's gorgeous, but please don't even think about it. I'm happy with my regular bags!"

But as you opened the package, there it was – the exact same black leather bag you had been admiring, complete with its iconic chain strap and quilted pattern. Your jaw dropped at its beauty, but immediately after came the familiar exasperation.

"ATSUMU MIYA!" Your voice echoed through the apartment.

You heard shuffling from the bedroom, and soon enough, your boyfriend appeared in the hallway, wearing his MSBY Black Jackals training shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His blonde hair was still slightly messy from sleep, but there was a telling glimmer in his eyes that he was trying hard to suppress.

"Mornin', what's with all the yellin'?" he asked innocently, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk of his.

You held up the bag, your eyes narrowing. "Care to explain this?"

"What? That's a nice bag ya got there. Secret admirer?" He scratched his head, playing dumb, but the slight pink tinge on his ears gave him away.

"Atsumu," you said firmly, though you couldn't help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness, "who else would send me a Chanel bag?"

"Maybe it was Bokun? Ya know how he gets when he's shoppin' for Keiji-kun, might've got carried away and bought ya somethin' too!" His explanation was so ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh.

"Bokuto-san, who panicked last week because he accidentally bought premium rice instead of regular rice, bought me a Chanel bag?"

Atsumu's facade cracked as he let out a chuckle. "Okay, okay, ya caught me." He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But before ya lecture me about spendin' money, just hear me out."

You sighed, letting your head rest against his chest. "Tsum, we've talked about this. You don't need to buy me expensive things."

"I know," he said softly, his Kansai accent thickening with emotion. "But ya work so hard, and ya never ask for anythin'. Ya even pack my lunches for away games and come to every match ya can. Let me spoil ya a little bit?"

"But—"

"Plus," he interrupted with a playful grin, "ya should see yer face whenever we pass by that store. Yer eyes light up like when ya watch me serve an ace."

You couldn't help but blush. "That's different! Your serves are actually impressive."

"And my girlfriend deservin' nice things ain't impressive enough reason?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got money to spend, and I wanna spend it on the love of my life. Sue me."

You looked down at the bag, running your fingers over the smooth leather. "It is beautiful," you admitted reluctantly.

"Just like ya," he said, and even though it was cheesy, your heart fluttered. "Now, are ya gonna model it for me or what? Gotta make sure my investment was worth it," he teased.

You playfully swatted his arm but couldn't hide your smile. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay? No more surprise luxury gifts."

"Sure, sure," he agreed too quickly, making you suspicious.

"Atsumu..."

"What? I didn't say anythin'!" He raised his hands in surrender, but you could see him already planning his next surprise in those mischievous brown eyes of his.

"You're impossible," you sighed, but reached up to kiss him anyway. "Thank you for the bag. I love it... and I love you."

His resulting smile was brighter than any designer purchase could ever be. "Love ya too, even when yer yellin' my name through the apartment."

"Only because you deserve it!"

"Worth it," he grinned, pulling you closer. "Every single time."

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[theblaxkstoic]

Bro, I thought I was past the point of careless errors on my reports. I need to get back to being pristine.

[abiatackerman]

Daddy's little rival

The sun spills through the half-drawn curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You're nestled between Levi's legs, your back against his chest, and his lips trace delicate patterns along your neck. His breath is a gentle promise against your skin, and you can't help but moan softly. A rare, unguarded sound that belongs only to moments like this.

But life has a way of barging in uninvited.

The door swings open abruptly, and your son pouts looking at you both.

"It's not fair, mommy! It's a weekend and you're playing with daddy, not me! He's not a brat! He doesn't need you to play with him."

You chuckle as you see your son's jealous eyes. He is a perfect mix of genetics. His black hair, blue-grey eyes, and pale skin are from Levi while his cute, slightly rounded features are from you.

"Your mom is mine."

As Levi speaks, he gently kisses your neck while he keeps staring at his son… Trying to get the little tyke rile up.

"Stop teasing your son."

You chuckle as you nudge Levi a little. You smile looking at your son's pouty cute face and open your arms.

"Come to mommy, dear."

Before you can even finish your sentence, your son runs towards your bed and jumps right into your lap and hugs your waist tightly.

"Are you done with your little tantrum now?"

Levi mutters playfully as he watches his baby get cuddled on by you.

"Hmph…"

Your son mutteres softly. His mood turns from angry to adorable in a second just by being cuddled by you. Like Levi, he is a momma's boy. All it takes one moment for him to start giggling and smiling if you're around. Levi can't help but smile at the sight.

"You're just like your dad. You've got his every single behaviour..."

You chuckle as you caress your son's hair. He grumbles in your chest making you laugh. He doesn't like to be compared with his dad. Not even a little.

Levi tilts his head and watches as his son squirming.

"What's wrong? Scared of being daddy's lil twin?"

He teases, which only seems to make his son even more frustrated.

"Stooooop…."

Your son mutters as he lifts his head up and glares at his dad with a frown. His eyes, which are just as beautiful as Levi’s, seem to glare right into Levi’s heart.

"Hey hey hey... Your daddy is humanity's strongest soldier, don't forget that. You should be proud that you've got his strength and attitude... "

You say patting your son's head.

"That's not something you should be proud of, he's just a grumpy old man!"

Your son mutters playfully sticking his tongue at Levi.

"I think he has a bit of an attitude problem. Maybe you're spoiling him too much, he's becoming cranky…"

Levi speaks in the same playful tone as his son and flicks his son's head.

"Tch! I'm not cranky!"

There the little tyke goes again. Acting exactly like his dad. A mini Levi. His cheeks puffed out as he pouts at his dad.

"Whatever, come here brat. Your mom needs to cook. Today's weekend and we're gonna enjoy a delicious dinner cooked by mommy, right? Also it's time for your after lunch lap. Come on."

Your son grumbles in a grumpy tone, but Levi pulls him along anyway. Despite his initial reluctance, your son can't help but be drawn into Levi's arms. As he tickles, your son bursts into laughter. You watch from the doorway, heart swelling with warmth, as father and son share this precious moment. You close the door behind you, leaving them to their own time together.

You know both of them will fall asleep within 30 minutes. Levi will hug his son protectively and your son will cuddle against Levi's chest while they'll sleep.

This is the regular weekend routine of your little Ackerman family.

[pyrodolls]

will you write more parts for the yandere!fan fic? 🫣

STALKER! YANDERE BOY X GN! READER (PART 2)

WARNINGS: stalking, mentions of murder, regular yandere tendencies, gender neutral reader

A/N: damn that first part did a lot better than i thought it would, thank you guys! so how about i bring in a second yandere… i’m naming this yandere victor, and the yandere in the first part is bayani. (btw the art below is by RIP2_)

part one (with bayani) right here! a third part is coming soon, featuring both bayani and victor when they realize they both are pining for you...

stalker! yandere boy that puts in more effort than superfan! yandere boy to catch your attention. bayani could never love you. he can barely even handle you looking at him, what makes you think he’s the right one for you? he’s just a lowly coward. victor is the one for you. he loves you so much. more than bayani.

stalker! yandere boy that doesn't care about your music. not one bit. because he loves you for you! who cares what your music sounds like? he doesn't care what genre it is, or if you even have a good voice or not. he'd be the best boyfriend for you because he treats you like an actual human, not just some singing machine. besides, he personally prefers metal. maybe he can listen to it with you when you get together! it sounds like a delightful date.

stalker! yandere boy that follows you around wherever you go. he tracks your travelling patterns, and visits whatever places you visit at the exact same time. whether you fly private, commercial, or even use a train or car. doesn't matter. he will follow you. where you go, he goes.

stalker! yandere boy that would go as far as to disguise himself as someone else in order to interact with you and gain your attention. you go eat at a restaurant? victor would kill a random waiter, steal their uniform, and take their place. you stay at a hotel? he's posing as room service and will steal your clothes and belongings tidy up your room! he'll even use the key to your room to walk in and watch you sleep at night. you just look so enchanting in your sleep, how can he resist? it's not wrong, he's just keeping you safe. he is the only one that can make sure you are happy and healthy. in victor's eyes, even the strongest bodyguard cannot keep you safe. you don't need anyone else. just him.

stalker! yandere boy that tries to catch your attention anytime he can. he needs you to notice him. he needs you to say something to him, talk to him, touch him, know him, acknowledge his existence. victor needs you to validate his existence in order to continue living. without you, what would he do? he cannot handle being away from you. he cannot handle being alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. he needs you.

stalker! yandere boy that gets jealous easily. you collab with another artist or you're seen holding hands with someone in public? he's spreading a fake rumor about whoever it is and ruining their life. you shouldn't be so stupid. why associate with someone else when you have him? why ditch him for someone else? he's right there. he can be better than them. who cares what they look or sound like? victor's so much better. he can show you how much better he is, if you give him a chance.

stalker! yandere boy that is so desperate for any kind of attention from you. it doesn't matter if it's positive or negative attention. he always plays it cool and acts all smug and calm when you notice him, but on the inside he is resisting the urge to grab you and run away from the world. all he wants is to have a peaceful, isolated life with you. away from the disgusting people in the world. you and victor can be happy together.

stalker! yandere boy that is incredibly clingy. you know you need him, right? he must be near you at all times. his presence keeps you alive and happy. you keep HIM happy. he needs you. you both need each other. if he can't see or feel your presence, he will go insane. that is why he travels anywhere you go. that is why he must go to each and every one of your concerts and meet-and-greets. you assumed he was just a big fan to be at every single event, but you just can't see that he loves you much more than just some fan.

stalker! yandere boy that just wants to be with you! let him be around you. let him completely obsess over you, touch you, love you, do whatever he wants to you. he won't hurt you! he just wants a little bit of freedom to say and do whatever he wants to you once you are together, so he can make sure you don't leave him. he will make you feel so good, so loved, so appreciated. nobody will ever love you more than he does.

but there may be someone that rivals his affections. a lowly, masochistic, scrawny pest that thinks he loves you more. victor will have to do something about it before your little superfan finally decides to man up and make a move on you.

[palmerzy]

spencer reid & cumming in his pants? 🥺

i got you anon ‼️ my faaave concept. he’s just so fuckin adorable isn’t he??

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes. slight mention of perv!spencer.

the first time it happened, you weren’t even together yet, and spencer felt like nothing less than a pervert. he couldn’t help it, though, watching as your plump lips wrapped delicately around the fruit flavoured ice pole, using it to cool yourself down in the blasting heat. jj was telling you the facts of the case, a missing person, a pattern of bodies showing up an exact amount of days after each person went missing, gruesome, gory, and necessary to solve in quick time.

every word being said should have encouraged spencer to get up from his seat, where he once was marking a map with possible hideout locations and actually get on with his work, but by then he was just gawking at you. any blood in his body ran south, straight to his cock, and he could feel it twitch in his trousers when you circled your tongue around the tip of the ice pole, nodding along to jj’s words.

when you separated from jj, unaware of spencer’s watchful gaze as you fully wrapped your lips around the pole, hollowing your cheeks to gather the flavour, he couldn’t keep it in. he’d been hard for at least ten minutes by that point, every jostle of his cock in his boxers driving him closer to the edge. he’d bitten down harshly on his fist, pretending to just be frustrated with the case, yet he knew the reality of it. he knew he’d tainted his boxers with his come, spurting over himself as he watched you, watched your rosy lips pull off of the ice, a string of saliva connecting the two. he knew then that he would come again if he wasn’t careful, and he made haste to excuse himself to the bathroom.

the next time was your first time together, with you on top of him, straddling his thighs on his couch after one too many drinks at the bar. your hips moved too perfectly against his crotch, and he swore he could feel the curves of your slit right against his cock with every movement you made.

he’d tried his damn hardest that day, he really had. he knew he wanted to come inside of you, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself - but how could he hold back? not when you were on top of him like that, your breathy moans filling the space as your tongue plunged hungrily down his throat. all it took was one perfect swipe of your hips for him to whimper against your mouth, large hands tangling in your hair and gripping at your thigh, stilling you as he came, all to prematurely, and all to obviously.

his pants darkened at the spot immediately, as did your gaze. the knowledge that you’d made poor little spencer reid come in his pants simply spurred you on further; and he’s not sure he’d ever orgasmed as many times as he did that night.

it’s not too regular of an occurrence, his stamina has gotten better since being with you, but sometimes you look just a little too good, and he hasn’t had you in too long. he’ll find himself at his desk, gripping the edge tightly whilst he watches you type away at your computer, your arms pressed against your chest in the way that gives him an overwhelmingly appealing view of your cleavage, and before long he’s running off to the bathroom, desperately telling himself not to come right now.

other times spencer’s all alone at home, you’re busy with friends or family, and all he can do to ease the ache is rut against his pillow, specifically the one you use when you sleep there, his hips twitching as he paints the front of his plaid pyjama bottoms with the remnants of his need for you.

thank you for requesting!

[vamptizm]

PRETTY LIKE A PRINCESS — p. bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x fem!reader

synopsis : you’re having a bad day and paige asks to do your makeup for you

warnings : none

word count : 600 (very short sorry)

note : are u guys okay with the small writing size or should i change it to the regular one so that everyone can read it easily?

“Let me do your makeup.” You heard from her familiar voice from where u sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the large mirror that you had been too lazy to hang up yet.

You didn’t have to be anywhere. Quite the opposite. It was a stay at home day but you couldn’t help but want to do something nice for yourself. Doing your makeup wasn’t something solely reserved for outings, it was a form of expression and art to you— something that never failed to cheer you up when having a bad day. And that’s exactly what today was. A bad day.

It had started with you not getting enough sleep on your only day off of the week, while Paige peaceful slept beside you like a baby, the soft snores and her even breathing pattern almost taunting you as you rolled over for the umpteenth time.

Then it continued with your comfort character dying in—according to you— the most unnecessary way possible. It didn’t take much for your mood to sink, the slightest inconvenience was usually enough.

“You wanna do my makeup?” You repeated with a raised brow, almost as if unsure whether you had heard her right or not.

“Well, that’s what I just said, isn’t it?” The blonde grinned from her spot, back leaned against your bed frame and her arms behind her head, unintentionally flexing those arm muscles that pushed you closer to the edge of insanity daily.

You could perfectly see her from the reflection in the mirror, but still you craned your neck to shoot her a look. “Don’t get smart with me, Goldilocks. I’m not the one today.”

That had managed to emit a full chuckle from your girlfriend, arms falling back to her sides as she straightened up. “C’mon, baby, please. You don’t trust me?”

“Now you’re just making me sound bad.” You rolled your eyes with sigh, though not truly annoyed. If anything, the thought of it made you feel somewhat giddy. But you wouldn’t admit that. “Okay… fine.”

And that’s how you ended up sitting on the bed, cross-legged once again as you faced Paige. She started out by finishing the base that you had started, but before you knew it, you already felt her hands snaking around your hips, swiftly pulling you into her lap.

“Much better, baby.” She mumbled, a faint smirk on her face as she adjusted you on top of her.

All you could do was look down at the girl, silently watching as her warm hands left and found your face repeatedly. occasionally cradling it for longer than needed, gently tilting it to the side as if you’d break any moment. All that and more, had you fighting for dear life to bite back a smile.

“All done, baby.” Paige spoke again, finally breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you, her eyes gleaming in adoration and awe. Her hands instinctively found their way to your waist, holding you almost as if to steady you. “Pretty like a princess.”

Your heart warmed at her words, a rosy hue creeping onto your cheeks and you couldn’t help but eventually crack a smile at the girl. The affect she had on you, was anything short of healing and comforting. You tilted your head forward slightly, hands snaking up to delicately cup her face before you placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips as she looked up at you.

A bright smile formed on her face, lighting her entire face up and you could’ve sworn that right then and there, you fell in love with Paige all over again, as if it had been the first time.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey there! I saw in one of another post of yours that you dealt with hoarding, any tips for de-hoarding the house?

Oh boy, do I have a lot. Here's what has helped me, a hoarder who lived several years at Level 4 (squalor, utilities shut off frequently):

Always be kind to yourself. Hoarding is a disorder and for me it was triggered by accumulated trauma. It will take a while to dig out, and you will likely have to wrestle with hoarding urges all your life.

Mindset tips:

Space is more valuable than stuff. Clear pathways, room to sit & sleep, prepare food, work on crafts -- it is *valuable*

Your home is not an optimization problem for storage. Again, space and clean surfaces are necessary! Not having paralysis of choice is valuable!

Cultivate awareness of when you aquire things and devise ways to break out of a buying pattern - put the phone away, go for a walk, etc.

Make some short-term rules: nothing comes in before two things go out. Only buy things you know you will use in the next month. Etc.

Kill sunk-cost-fallacy. The real value is peace of mind, not the potential of an object.

Decluttering tips

Clean out trash, first. Just get the obvious garbage out so you have space to work in.

Get some bankers boxes or bins. Create a group for sale/donate. Put some "keep" boxes in each room.

Start with 1 room to declutter. Again - trash, first. Then, go through objects in that room, putting in the group sale/donate boxes, or directly into the "keep" box for the room that object should live in. Don't worry about *where* in the room the "keep" items go in -- they go in the box, for now.

Try to get the decluttered room to a point where you can move furniture for a deep clean. And try to avoid putting anything in this room that doesn't belong there. You are focusing on 1 room at a time to fix.

Assess your decluttered room for how it might encourage hoarding. Again, is there not enough space? Do you need to take out or rearrange furniture to encourage living/working surfaces?

Don't be in a rush to sort through any of your boxes. Focus on reclaiming space.

Go through the boxes after you've had time to decompress. Some time should have passed and you now can look at your items more neutrally.

For your possessions, ask: does this spark joy? Do I have something similar already? Why am I holding onto it? Is the potential worth the time and space to hang onto it? If it is sentimental, is there a better way to use or display it? If it is broken or a crafting item, will I really fix/use it?

Get in the habit of giving objects a permanent home. Label shelves, bins, whatever else you need to.

Maintenance tips:

Avoid buying things when you're overly emotional

Designate landing pads for items. They don't have to be in the traditional places -- if you take your shoes off in the kitchen, then buy a boot tray and put it in there. Always put your wallet in the same space. Etc.

If daily clutter overtakes surfaces in your home, consider catch-all baskets. I have some in high traffic areas, like the dining room, staircase, and living room. Go through the baskets on a regular basis to weed out junk and put items away where they live.

Be honest with how much time you have to enjoy your possessions. Will you read that many books? Wear all those clothes? Make all those crafting kits? Are you spending more time aquiring vs enjoying?

Regularly assess your belongings and see what you can let go. If you are not sure yet, put items in a box and see if you can live without for several months. Date the box, and be brutal about dealing with it in the time frame you decide upon.

Get into a chore routine. Sometimes, chores are easier if the cleaning supplies are right there. I have an upstairs vacuum and a downstairs vacuum for this very reason.

A 10 minute "reset" at the end of the day goes really far, especially if you are a crafter.

Find something more benign to collect, if you are a magpie. I collect public domain stuff in digital format, video game items, etc. I'd rather be a hoarder in Skyrim than IRL.

I also "collect" experiences now -- I am currently seeing how many different trails I can hike. Maybe you would like something like birdwatching, to sate your hoarding urges. Redirection can go a long way.

I can go more into specifics, but these are always on my mind when I think about controlling one's hoarding. I hope it helps!

[strangelittlestories]

“We need you to clear the flock of banshees off the roof of parliament.”

The civil servant who’d called me was dressed in one of those suits that I think of as a ‘masquerade suit’. You’d know the cut if you saw it. It’s expensive, but not flashy. It’s well tailored, but not clingy. It does not hide or accentuate, but gives the impression of being a second skin. It is formalwear as your natural state. It is when your every stitch and fibre says: ‘this is my place’.

It’s like the glamour a vampire puts on to hide its teeth. Only it’s better, because it’s real. Oh, the things you can hide in a suit like that. It gave me goosebumps.

I tried to focus on something else, so as not to just rudely and silently stare at him. In the background, I could hear distant otherworldly screams. They made the air tremble with the promise of loss.

It was only a little comforting.

“Ma’am, we are willing to pay you a significant express bonus. And an out-of-hours bonus, if you can begin immediately.” The civil servant must have assumed my silence meant I was either sleep deprived or playing hardball. “And once you are enrolled as a contractor, we can likely offer regular future work. Especially if the flock *stays gone*.”

“It’s not a flock.” I replied softly.

“I assure you, there are … a significant number of them.”

“I’m not querying the number, but the noun. A flock is either sheep or birds.” I closed my eyes and focused on the wails. “Your guests are a ‘keening’.”

“Of course.” The civil servant smiled politely. “Well, at least we will know what to put on the invoice.”

“Some people prefer ‘bewailing’. For the alliteration. But that’s also not quite right. The plural of banshee should really be mnashee. Anglicised from ‘mná-síghe’.”

“I … see.”

“It’s Irish. Sticking an s on the end is … it’s a little like saying ‘womans’ instead of ‘women’.”

“Well. Can you banish this ‘keening’ of ‘mnashee’?”

“When did they arrive?”

“Right in the middle of a debate on the Pluto-Transmutation Act. It was quite disruptive.”

I clicked my teeth. I needed the money. But this whole situation gave me an all-over cold iron itch…

“I’ll need to see them.”

“Ah. I will fetch Ma’am a set of ear defenders.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I smiled my sliver-of-moonlight smile. “That’s why you hire a changeling.”

---

The mnashee were clad in their customary robes, dark cloth draped loosely over pale skin. Of course, it’s not exactly skin. It doesn’t really have cells. It’s not an organ. It’s just the edge of an idea. The boundary where death and grief meets human perception. So it looks like skin and it’s pale like a corpse.

What surprised me, though, were the placards they were holding. These were not exactly customary. They seemed to be made of mundane wood and cardboard - if I squinted, they stayed solid through the Veil - but the text and images seemed to have warped through close proximity with the spirits.

When things get warped, they tend to go one of two ways: spidery or squirrelly. The words had gone spidery, the words flowing into each other and splitting into vein-like strands, untethered from the cardboard. The pictures had gone squirrelly, seeming to shift and move and grow eyes that stared out at the world with feral, furtive energy.

I cleared my throat.

The keening of mnashee turned to look at me. They did not stop wailing. But the *flavour* of the wails changed. The sound was the same, but beneath it - above it, behind it, spat out of it - was a pattern. And that pattern was a meaning.

It was not communication, exactly. But it was a knowing.

So I knew, then, why they had descended upon parliament.

“It’s like I thought.” I said to the civil servant, thoughtfully. “The Act you’re trying to pass … many won’t survive it. They are just here to sing your grief.”

“The Act is necessary. The aetheric exchange is too volatile at the moment, we need to-”

“It doesn’t matter what you need. The route you’ve chosen to get there is blood-paved. This keening arrived when the first slow passing began. They will leave when the last ends.”

“We have run extensive projections and-”

“They don’t care how much you made the numbers dance.” I kept my voice politely neutral. “And I’m not here to judge you or tell you what to do. They sing what is true. Then I speak to that truth.”

“Can you make them leave or not?”

“Perhaps I could, but I will not. For it would not be honest to do to them. I will join them and I will continue to speak their knowings.”

The civil servant’s face was red, his biology betraying the lie of his perfect suit.

“Well, you can forget about the *generous* compensation package…”

“Fine. But you will still pay my call-out fee.” I sat down and prepared to wait. “Unless you want to break a bargain, that is?”

---

Enjoy my stories?

Consider supporting me at Ko-Fi.com/strangelittlestories

(Or, y'know, just keep reading/liking/sharing)

[girlkisser13]

being married to suguru geto would include

• suguru is surprisingly domestic. he enjoys slow mornings with you, making tea while you read together, or just sitting in comfortable silence.

• he absentmindedly plays with your fingers when you’re sitting next to him, tracing patterns over your knuckles.

• he ALWAYS insists on washing your hair for you. it’s a quiet, intimate moment he cherishes, gently massaging your scalp while speaking softly.

• he’s a night owl, often reading or thinking deep into the night, but he’ll always curl up next to you before dawn, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

• suguru values peace in your shared home. it’s a space he cherishes, where he can let go of the weight of the world and just be with you. he’s particular about keeping it tranquil— warm lighting, soft cushions, the faint scent of incense or herbal tea always lingering in the air.

• he enjoys simple domestic routines with you— brewing tea, brushing his fingers through your hair as he listens to you talk about your day, folding laundry together while making idle conversation.

• baths together become a regular thing. not even for anything intimate— just the act of unwinding together, warm water easing the tension in his body as he leans against you, murmuring how much he loves you.

• you often catch him staring at you when he thinks you’re not looking— his gaze filled with something unreadable, something deep, something yours.

• he’s INCREDIBLELY neat, but if you’re messy, he doesn’t mind— it’s just another thing he quietly adjusts to, picking up after you without complaint.

• he has a habit of braiding your hair absentmindedly while you sit together, his fingers moving gently as he listens to you talk. if your hair is too short, he’ll still find a way to play with it.

• suguru isn’t overly verbal about his love, but he expresses it in ways that are undeniable.

• when you’re together, he’s always touching you in some way— his hand resting on the small of your back, his fingers brushing over your wrist, a lingering kiss on your temple before he leaves.

• he’s incredibly observant. he knows your tells— when you’re nervous, when you’re tired, when you need comfort but don’t want to ask for it.

• you’re the only one who gets to see his true smiles. the ones that aren’t just polite or calculating, but full of warmth and genuine happiness.

• he whispers "i love you" at the most unexpected times— when you’re drifting to sleep, when you’re laughing at something, when you’re completely lost in a book. it’s never overdone, but always meaningful.

• when he kisses you, it’s deep, slow, lingering. he always makes sure you feel it— that you know just how much you mean to him.

• suguru is a thinker. he loves deep, philosophical conversations, and he loves that you’re the one person who challenges his thoughts.

• if you disagree with him, he doesn’t dismiss you— he listens, really listens, his eyes dark with contemplation as he considers your words.

• late at night, when the world is quiet, he’ll talk to you about his dreams, his fears, his regrets. no one else gets to hear these things from him— only you.

• he has a sharp sense of humor that only comes out when he’s with you. dry, teasing remarks, playful sarcasm— it’s a side of him no one else gets to see.

• he memorizes every little thing about you— your favorite book, the way you take your tea, the small habits you don’t even notice yourself doing.

• suguru has a quiet but terrifying protectiveness over you. he doesn’t often show rage, but if anyone ever dared to hurt you, he would make sure they regretted it.

• if you’re ever even slightly uncomfortable around someone, he picks up on it instantly and handles the situation smoothly— but there’s always a dangerous undertone to his words.

• he can be overly cautious about your safety, especially if he has enemies. if he ever leaves for something dangerous, he always makes sure there’s a way for you to contact him.

• he never lets you walk alone at night. if he can’t be with you, he sends a curse to follow and protect you.

• you’re the only one who gets to see his moments of vulnerability. the times where he lets himself lean into you, letting you hold him when the weight of the world becomes too much.

• if you’re hurt, even if it’s just a scratch, his entire demeanor changes. he’s suddenly cold, serious, checking you over carefully as if he could heal you just by sheer force of will.

• suguru places deep meaning in symbols and traditions. your wedding bands are carefully chosen— something elegant, something meaningful, maybe engraved with a word or phrase only the two of you understand.

• he never takes his ring off. ever. if he has to for some reason, he keeps it on a chain around his neck.

• he keeps a small charm or trinket from you— maybe a bracelet you gave him, or a scrap of fabric from your clothing sewn into his sleeve. it’s always on him, hidden, but present. <33

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hookups & Holdouts

Summary: Spencer is casually seeing your friend, but is there something going on between you and him as well?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: bisexual Spencer Reid (it's canon to me), having a crush on your friends fwb, tension, Spencer is just a man, forced encounters

Word count: 7.7k

a/n: unfortunately i have been the reader in this situation ........

main masterlist

The night was buzzing with the energy of the bar, the kind of place where the music vibrated through the floors, and the chatter of conversations created a constant hum. You had gone out with your coworkers for a much-needed night of unwinding after a particularly stressful week. It was supposed to be a night of letting loose, but instead, your thoughts were consumed by someone you had met not too long ago—Spencer.

Your mind drifted to the first time you met him. It was at a small get-together hosted by Anders, a close friend of yours who had been seeing Spencer for a while now. You hadn't expected to hit it off with Spencer as much as you did, especially since you thought he was strictly into men. But as the night went on, you found yourself drawn to his quirky intelligence, his sharp wit, and the way his eyes seemed to light up when he talked about something he was passionate about.

You quickly became friends, texting back and forth until it became a regular part of your day. It was during one of these late-night text exchanges that you learned Spencer was bisexual. Your heart had done a little flip at that revelation, but you quickly shoved your feelings aside, convincing yourself that Spencer was head over heels for Anders. After all, they were sleeping together, and Anders was obviously very into him.

But now, as you sipped your drink and scanned the bar, you spotted Spencer at a table with a group of people who had to be his coworkers. Your heart skipped a beat. You had heard a lot about them from Spencer—Derek, JJ, Emily—but seeing them in person was something else entirely. You were about to wave and call out to him when Spencer’s eyes found yours first. He smiled that familiar smile, the one that always made your stomach do somersaults, and excused himself from his group.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Spencer greeted you as he approached, his voice warm and teasing.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the smartest guy in the room,” you replied with a grin, trying to hide how your pulse quickened just being around him.

“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said, downplaying your compliment in that self-deprecating way he always did. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” You motioned to the empty stool next to you.

The two of you quickly fell into your usual rhythm, talking about everything from work to the latest books you were reading. But as the conversation flowed, you couldn’t help the little quips that started slipping out, your nerves getting the better of you.

“So, how’s Anders? You two still having fun?” you asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a twinge of something uncomfortable as you brought him up.

Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Anders is… fine. He’s fun to be around, I guess.”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. “You guess? Come on, Spencer, the guy’s practically in love with you.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the edge of his glass. “Anders is… nice. But, uh, he’s not really my type.”

That took you by surprise. You thought for sure that Spencer was into Anders—why else would he keep seeing him? “Not your type? You’ve been sleeping with him for weeks.”

“Yeah, well… sometimes people do things for reasons other than love,” Spencer said, his voice dropping slightly. He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, a mix of vulnerability and something else that made your heart race.

You suddenly felt a bit silly for bringing it up, but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “So, what’s wrong with him? Not smart enough for you?”

Spencer let out a small laugh, but there was no real amusement behind it. “Something like that. He’s just… we don’t connect on a deeper level, you know? It’s all very surface-level.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you processed his words. “I see. So, no chance of you two becoming anything serious, then?”

Spencer hesitated before answering, his gaze locking onto yours. “Honestly? I’m not looking for anything serious with Anders. I’m just… I don’t know, trying to figure things out. I think he knows that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized what he was saying. Anders wasn’t who Spencer really wanted. But then who was? The question hung heavy in the air between you, but you were too scared to ask it out loud. Instead, you deflected, cracking a joke to cover up the awkwardness.

“Well, if you’re not looking for serious, maybe I should set you up with my other friend. They’re even more clueless than Anders.”

Spencer’s eyes crinkled with a small smile, but there was a hint of frustration in them. “You really think that’s what I’m after? Clueless fun?”

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light despite the tightness in your chest. “Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Spencer sighed, leaning closer to you. His voice was soft, almost hesitant. “No. Not everyone.”

Your heart raced, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to face the possibility that you weren’t what Spencer was looking for. The thought of getting hurt, of not being enough, was too much to bear. So, like you always did when things got too real, you joked.

“Well, when you meet a man who doesn’t want that, send them my way,” you said with a forced laugh, trying to brush off the weight of the moment.

Spencer’s expression faltered for just a split second, but you caught it—the brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he quickly masked it. He straightened up, the space between you widening as he pulled back. The connection you had just felt so deeply seemed to fray at the edges, unraveling as the conversation shifted back to safer, more casual topics.

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer replied, his tone light, almost too light. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

The easygoing smile he offered didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could tell he was retreating, closing himself off. Your stomach twisted in regret, but you couldn’t bring yourself to backtrack, to admit that you had only been joking out of fear.

Instead, you followed his lead, letting the conversation drift back to mundane things—the latest case he had been working on, the books you both had been reading, the random, everyday things that were usually so comforting. But now, every word felt like a reminder of what you might have just lost, of the opportunity that had slipped through your fingers.

As the night wore on, you found yourself laughing and talking as you always did with Spencer, but there was a heaviness in the air that neither of you acknowledged. The easy rapport you had was still there, but it was tinged with something unsaid, something that had almost been spoken but was now buried beneath the surface.

When it was time to part ways, Spencer walked you to the door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You felt the tension in the air, the unspoken words hanging between you like a thick fog.

“Thanks for hanging out tonight,” he said, his voice still carrying that light, casual tone.

“Yeah, it was fun,” you replied, forcing a smile.

There was a brief pause, a moment where you both stood there, just looking at each other. You wanted to say something, to take back your earlier joke, to tell him how you really felt. But the fear of rejection, of ruining what you already had, held you back.

Spencer gave you a small nod, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “See you around.”

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the night, you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret. You had missed your chance, and now you were left wondering what could have been if you had just been brave enough to be honest.

—

The drive to Anders' place was filled with a mixture of nerves and determination. You had made up your mind; it was time to tell Anders the truth. He deserved to know that Spencer wasn't interested in him the way he wanted. It wasn’t fair for him to keep investing in something that wasn’t going anywhere. You hated the idea of hurting your friend, but it was better than letting him continue on, oblivious.

You pulled up to Anders' apartment, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you. The familiar routine of movie nights had always been a comfort, a way to unwind and relax. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were going to disrupt that comfort with harsh reality.

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself in, as you always did. Anders never minded; his place was practically your second home. You called out to announce your arrival, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the scene in front of you.

There, on the couch where you usually sat, was Spencer—completely naked, with an equally naked Anders in his lap. The image burned into your brain, your eyes widening in shock as you tried to process what you were seeing.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you yelled, immediately spinning around to face the door, your heart racing in your chest. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment and shock battling for dominance in your mind.

Anders, ever the carefree spirit, just giggled. The sound was light, airy, completely unfazed by the situation. “Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” he asked casually, as if you hadn’t just walked in on him in the middle of a very intimate moment.

“Uh—you asked if I wanted to watch a movie tonight!” you stammered, still refusing to turn around, your eyes fixed firmly on the door. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out how to extricate yourself from this incredibly awkward situation without making it worse.

“Oh, right!” Anders said, his voice full of realization. “I totally forgot. We, uh, kind of got distracted.” He let out another giggle, as if this whole thing was just a minor inconvenience.

Spencer, on the other hand, was silent. You could feel the tension radiating from him, and it only made your discomfort grow. You wanted to disappear, to erase the last few minutes from existence. But there was no undoing what had just happened.

“I—uh, I’ll just go,” you mumbled, reaching for the door handle, desperate to escape.

“No, wait!” Anders called out, but you were already halfway out the door. The last thing you wanted was to stick around and make things even more awkward.

You bolted down the hallway, not stopping until you were back in your car. Once inside, you sat there for a moment, your hands gripping the steering wheel as you tried to steady your breathing. The image of Spencer and Anders was still fresh in your mind, and you felt a wave of emotions crashing over you—embarrassment, guilt, sadness, and something else you couldn’t (or didn’t want to) name.

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel like the worst friend in the world. You had come to tell Anders the truth, to help him move on, but instead, you had just walked in on something that was probably better left unseen. And now, you didn’t know how you were going to face either of them again.

In the back of your mind, though, there was another thought, one that made your heart ache even more. You had seen Spencer in a way that only deepened your feelings for him, but you also knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t yours to have. Not now. Not ever.

—

The days that followed the incident at Anders' apartment were some of the most confusing and emotionally draining you had ever experienced. Spencer's text message—I’m sorry you saw that. Are we okay?—had sat on your phone like a ticking time bomb. Every time you opened your messages, there it was, a stark reminder of what you’d witnessed, and what you couldn’t unsee. You had read it countless times, but every time, it made your chest tighten and your eyes burn with unshed tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not yet. Not when everything felt so raw.

So you let it sit. And sit. Days turned into weeks, and you kept yourself distant from both Spencer and Anders. You barely texted Anders, showing up in his life only when absolutely necessary, and even then, you kept things as casual and distant as possible. Luckily, Anders didn’t seem to notice much, his naturally spaced-out personality giving you some breathing room. But you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. Eventually, he would notice. Eventually, you would have to face him again.

And that day had come sooner than you would have liked. Anders had messaged you about another movie night, and you knew it was time to face the music. You agreed to come over, but you made sure to call from the parking lot, wanting to avoid any more unplanned surprises.

“Hey, I’m here,” you said into the phone, trying to keep your voice light as you sat in your car outside Anders' apartment.

“Great! Come on up, I’ve got the popcorn ready,” Anders replied, his usual cheerful tone making you feel a little guilty for having avoided him for so long.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to get out of the car and walk up to his apartment. Your nerves were on edge, but you told yourself it would be fine. You just had to get through this night, and then maybe things would start to feel normal again.

Once inside, you tried to focus on the task at hand, helping Anders get the snacks together in the kitchen. It was almost working—almost—until you heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Hey, lover!” Anders called out, his voice bright and playful.

Your heart sank, and you froze in place, your hand hovering over the bowl of chips you were holding. You didn’t need to turn around to know who had just walked in. That voice had been seared into your memory, and the way Anders greeted him left no doubt.

Spencer.

You could feel your pulse quicken, panic rising in your chest as you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly busied yourself with the snacks, pretending you hadn’t heard, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get through this without falling apart.

But then Spencer spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. “Hey… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as you forced yourself to turn around. There he was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking just as nervous and out of place as you felt. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had gone unsaid hanging heavily between you.

“Yeah, I, uh… I didn’t know either,” you finally managed to say, your voice sounding weaker than you intended. “Anders didn’t mention you were coming.”

Anders, completely oblivious to the tension in the room, just smiled and shrugged. “I thought it’d be fun to have both of you here. You’re my favorite people, after all.”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, fun.”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the concern in his eyes. He knew you hadn’t replied to his message, and he was waiting for some sign that things were okay. But you weren’t sure if they were. You weren’t sure if you could pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Anders, still blissfully unaware, handed you the bowl of popcorn. “Come on, let’s get started! I’ve been dying to watch this movie all week.”

You nodded, taking the bowl and heading to the living room, doing your best to avoid brushing against Spencer as you passed him. The three of you settled onto the couch—the same couch—and you couldn’t help but feel like you were in some twisted version of a love triangle. Except, in this version, you were the only one who felt like you were losing.

As the movie started, you found it nearly impossible to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the moment in the kitchen, to the look in Spencer’s eyes, to the fact that you were sitting mere inches away from him, and yet it felt like there was a chasm between you.

Anders, as usual, was fully engrossed in the movie, laughing at all the right moments, completely at ease. You envied him for that, for being able to enjoy the night without the weight of unspoken feelings hanging over his head.

But then, halfway through the movie, Anders got a call and had to step out of the room, leaving you and Spencer alone together. The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you before speaking. “I’m really sorry about everything,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean for things to get so complicated.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that you were the one who had let things get complicated, but the words just wouldn’t come.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” Spencer continued, his voice soft. “I miss talking to you.”

That was it. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were blinking back tears, trying desperately to keep them from falling. Your emotions, which you had kept bottled up for so long, suddenly became too much to bear.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you stood up abruptly, grabbing your things in a desperate bid to escape. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, full of concern and confusion, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. If you did, you knew you’d fall apart completely.

“Wait—” Spencer started to say, reaching out as if to stop you, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“Tell Anders whatever you want,” you said, your voice firmer this time, but still laced with the pain you were trying so hard to hide. You couldn’t stay there, not with Spencer, not with the weight of your feelings suffocating you. The thought of facing Anders, of pretending everything was normal, was impossible.

And with that, you turned and walked out of the apartment, not giving Spencer a chance to respond. The door clicked shut behind you, and the moment you were outside, the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks as you hurried to your car.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing with a mixture of regret, fear, and sadness. You had run away, leaving Spencer and Anders behind, but what else could you have done? Staying would have only prolonged the inevitable.

As you drove away, your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white. You didn’t know what Spencer would say to Anders, or how your friend would react. But at that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to get away, to put distance between yourself and the situation that had become too tangled, too painful.

When you finally reached the safety of your own home, you collapsed onto your couch, your body wracked with silent sobs. You had thought you could handle it, that you could push your feelings aside and just be friends with Spencer, but now you realized how wrong you had been.

You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was clear: you couldn’t go back to the way things were. Too much had changed, and the wound you carried was too deep to ignore. For now, all you could do was try to heal, even if it meant distancing yourself from the people you cared about most.

—

You sat on your couch, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the muted television you weren’t really watching. The events of the night replayed in your mind on a loop, your emotions a tangled mess of regret and confusion. 

When your phone rang, you almost didn’t answer, but the sight of Anders' name on the screen made you pause. You felt a pang of guilt; you had left so abruptly, and he deserved better than that. With a sigh, you answered, bracing yourself for whatever was coming.

“Hey, babe!” Anders' voice was cheerful, completely unaware of the turmoil you were in. It was comforting and yet somehow made you feel worse.

“Hey, Andy,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tension in your throat made it come out quieter than usual.

It started off as a typical conversation, Anders chatting away about his day, his plans for tomorrow, the usual banter that you were used to. You let him talk, responding here and there with murmurs of agreement, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the distance in your voice.

But then, as the conversation began to wind down, Anders asked the question you had been dreading, the one you had hoped wouldn’t come.

“So, what’s going on with you and Spencer?”

Your breath hitched, panic flaring up in your chest. “No—nothing,” you stammered, the words tumbling out before you could even think.

Anders, oblivious as ever, let out a light giggle, not cruel but definitely amused. “Babe, if you want to sleep with him too, it’s okay! Spencer and I talked, and he told me he’s not looking for anything serious. I’ll admit it hurt a bit, but I have a date tomorrow with a big hubba bubba daddy, so who cares!”

His words hit you like a truck, and it took everything in you to keep your voice steady. “Oh wow, I’m sorry, Andy,” you said, forcing out the words as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t let him know how much this conversation was affecting you. “But, uh, I don’t want to sleep with Spencer, thanks though.”

Anders didn’t seem to notice your internal struggle. He immediately launched into a rant about his upcoming date, describing in vivid detail just how sexy his new interest was. He spoke with the same enthusiasm he had always had, the kind that was contagious and usually made you laugh along with him.

But tonight, you couldn’t muster the energy. You listened, letting his words wash over you, but your mind was elsewhere. The relief that Anders was so easily distracted by his new date was tinged with a deep sadness that you couldn’t shake. He had already moved on, while you were still stuck in the mire of your own emotions, unable to let go of the complicated feelings you had for Spencer.

As Anders continued to gush about his date, you found yourself nodding along, murmuring words of encouragement and support. You tried to sound as genuine as possible, hiding the cracks in your voice as best as you could. But inside, you were reeling.

Eventually, Anders wound down, his excitement tempered by the late hour. He bid you goodnight with a cheerful, “Wish me luck tomorrow!” and you returned the sentiment, your voice softer than usual.

When the call ended, you were left alone with your thoughts once more. The apartment felt quieter than before, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. You sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in your hand, the weight of the evening settling heavily on your shoulders.

Something didn’t sit right with you, a question that buzzed in the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. Spencer had made it clear that he didn’t see Anders as anything more than a casual fling—no romantic feelings, no intellectual connection. And yet, they were still sleeping together.

You tried to shake the thought away, telling yourself it wasn’t your business. Spencer was free to make his own choices, and Anders had already moved on, or at least he seemed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more the pieces didn’t add up.

Spencer had reached out to you after that night, asking if you were okay, expressing concern for how you felt. But if he was truly worried about how his relationship with Anders was affecting you, wouldn’t he have stopped sleeping with your friend? Wouldn’t he have made some kind of decision, some gesture to show that he was considering your feelings?

The thought gnawed at you, making your chest tighten with a mix of confusion and hurt. It felt like a betrayal, even if you didn’t have any real claim on Spencer’s actions. You had been trying so hard to navigate your feelings, to be a good friend, to keep the peace between everyone involved. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if Spencer had been as considerate of you as you had been of him.

Anders’ casual mention that you could sleep with Spencer too—it felt wrong, like you were being invited into something you had no business being part of. If Spencer really cared about you, if he really wanted to figure things out between you two, wouldn’t he put a stop to his arrangement with Anders? Wouldn’t he want to keep things clear, to avoid complicating an already messy situation?

Your mind spiraled with these questions, each one cutting deeper than the last. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to be rational, to not make things more difficult than they already were. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one trying to keep things from falling apart.

Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe Spencer just didn’t realize how much it was affecting you. But deep down, you knew that if he cared—really cared—he would have made a different choice. He wouldn’t have kept things going with Anders, knowing how tangled and painful this whole situation had become.

The realization hit you hard, a wave of sadness washing over you. You had wanted so badly to believe that Spencer was different, that he saw you as more than just someone in the background of his life. But now, it felt like you were just another person he could compartmentalize, another relationship he could keep separate and convenient.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as the hurt and disappointment settled in. You had been so focused on keeping the peace, on not causing trouble, that you had ignored your own feelings in the process. And now, you were left wondering if Spencer had ever truly considered how much this was hurting you.

With a heavy heart, you realized that you couldn’t keep ignoring this. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Something had to change, and it wasn’t going to be easy. But you couldn’t keep sacrificing your own well-being for the sake of others, not anymore.

You picked up your phone, staring at the message Spencer had sent days ago. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation gnawing at you. Part of you wanted to reply, to tell him everything, to ask him why he hadn’t made a different choice. But another part of you—the part that had been trying to protect yourself—wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear the answer.

Finally, you set the phone down, deciding that you were done with Spencer Reid.

—

A few weeks later, you found yourself wandering the aisles of the grocery store, lost in thought as you tried to focus on the mundane task of shopping. You were staring blankly at the jars of pickles in front of you when you heard your name being called out.

“Y/N!”

The familiar voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to see Spencer walking towards you, a broad smile on his face. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Hi,” you replied with a polite nod, your tone deliberately neutral.

“How are you?” Spencer asked, his excitement still evident as he stopped beside you.

“Fine,” you said shortly, your eyes returning to the jars, though you weren’t really seeing them. Your thoughts were swirling too much to focus on something as trivial as grocery shopping.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, a confused, almost puppy-like expression on his face. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Mad? No,” you dismissed the idea with a wave of your hand, shaking your head. You weren’t mad—frustrated, hurt, disappointed, maybe, but not mad.

“Oh,” Spencer said, pondering your response. “But you haven’t been talking to me.”

Finally, you turned to face him, your expression guarded. “I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?” you said, playing dumb, trying to keep the conversation as surface-level as possible.

“Y/N,” he sighed, his tone more serious now. “You know what I mean. You never texted me back. And you left movie night.”

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow. “Well, duh, why would I want to be around when my friend’s fuck buddy is there?” you said, as if it were a joke, though there was a biting edge to your words.

Spencer laughed, but it was a dejected sound, lacking the usual warmth. “Ouch. That’s all I am?”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, your voice sharper than you intended. You couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into your tone.

Spencer nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Look, I put myself out there a few times, and you shot me down, so—”

“Oh my god, that is so not what this is about, Spencer,” you interrupted, your frustration bubbling over. How could he be so oblivious?

“No? Then why are you acting like this?” Spencer asked, his confusion evident. He genuinely didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

“God, you’re dense,” you muttered, shaking your head in exasperation. “Just… be nice to Anders, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

And there it was—confirmation that he was still sleeping with Anders. A wave of disappointment washed over you, the last bit of hope you had clung to slipping away. If Spencer had really liked you, if he had genuinely wanted to be with you, wouldn’t he have stopped all his other conquests and focused on pursuing you? But he hadn’t. He was still entangled with your friend, and that spoke volumes.

Oh well, you thought to yourself, trying to brush off the sinking feeling in your chest. Maybe you had been foolish to think there could have been something more between you and Spencer. Maybe it was time to let go of whatever feelings you had and move on, just like Anders had.

—

At another movie night, you could feel the excitement radiating off Anders from the moment you walked through the door. He was practically bouncing on his feet, unable to contain the big news he was bursting to share.

“Y/N! You will not believe this!” Anders squealed, practically jumping up and down. “His name is Hugh and ugh, he’s so yummy!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Really? Tell me more,” you urged, genuinely curious.

“He’s amazing!” Anders continued, his eyes lighting up. “He holds the door open for me, pulls my chair out, and always makes sure I finish first. He’s such a gentleman!”

“That’s great, Andy,” you said, smiling warmly at him. You could tell how happy he was, and it warmed your heart to see your friend so giddy and content.

“I know, right?” Anders clapped his hands together, unable to contain his joy. “And guess what? He asked me to be his boyfriend! Can you believe that?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Did you say yes?”

“Of course I did!” Anders giggled, his happiness practically infectious. “He’s everything I’ve been looking for!”

You hesitated for a moment, the question that had been nagging at you since your last conversation with Spencer lingering in the back of your mind. You had to know. “So…did you cut things off with Spencer?”

Anders rolled his eyes playfully and waved a hand dismissively. “Duh! I’m a slut, not a monster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his candid response, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else. “I’m glad, Andy. Hugh sounds like a really great guy.”

“He is!” Anders beamed, his face glowing with happiness. “I’m so excited, Y/N. I really think this could be something special.”

You smiled, genuinely happy for your friend. “I’m sure it will be, Andy. You deserve someone who treats you like the amazing person you are.”

Anders gave you a big hug, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you, babe.”

As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Knowing that Anders had moved on, and that things with Spencer were over, helped ease some of the tension that had been weighing on you. It was clear now that Anders had found something real with Hugh, and maybe that meant it was time for you to move forward too.

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might actually work out, not just for Anders, but for yourself as well.

—

You stared at the text on your phone, the all-too-familiar You up? glowing on the screen. It was so cliché, so typical of Spencer to send that kind of message at 10 p.m. You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and frustration bubbling up inside you. After everything, this was how he reached out? You didn’t dignify it with a response, instead turning on your read receipts and locking your phone. Let him know you saw it, and let him stew in it.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

Y/N.

The second message made your frustration spike even more. You read it, let it sit there, and ignored it again. Why should you give him the satisfaction of a reply? He had plenty of chances to talk, to say what needed to be said, and now, after you’d started to move on, he decided he needed to talk? 

The next message, however, caught your attention.

Please, I need to talk to you.

You hesitated for a moment, your finger hovering over the screen. Against your better judgment, you finally replied, the words coming out more curtly than you intended.

Get it out quickly then.

You stared at your phone, waiting for Spencer to respond. Seconds turned into minutes, and still nothing. The longer you waited, the more irritated you became. Why did he always have to make things so difficult? You scoffed after 30 minutes, tossing your phone aside with a bitter laugh. 

What an asshole, you thought. You had given him the chance to say whatever he needed to say, and now he was the one ignoring you? The nerve of it made your blood boil. You were done with this game.

But then, just as you were about to brush it off entirely, there was a knock at your front door.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the sound echoed through your apartment. For a moment, you just stared at the door, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Who could it be at this hour? And then it hit you—Spencer.

With a bit of reluctance and curiosity, you got up and walked to the door, your footsteps soft on the floor. When you reached it, you hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath before finally opening it.

There he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and uncertain. The sight of him standing there, so close and yet so far, made your heart clench.

“Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Can I come in?”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a chaotic mess. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, to tell him to leave and never come back. But another part, the part that still cared despite everything, wanted to know what he had to say, to understand why he was here.

“Why are you here, Spencer?” you asked, your voice guarded as you crossed your arms.

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your resolve waver. “Because I couldn’t wait any longer. I need to talk to you. Please, just give me a few minutes.”

You didn’t move, your mind racing as you tried to decide what to do. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stepped aside and opened the door wider, letting him in. 

Spencer walked past you, his shoulders tense, and you could feel the weight of whatever he was carrying with him. As you closed the door behind him, you prepared yourself for whatever was about to come, knowing that this conversation would change everything—one way or another.

"Alright, speak," you said, your tone flat as you stood by the front door, making it clear that you weren't about to give Spencer the comfort of sitting down. If he wanted to talk, he could do it on your terms.

Spencer looked pained at your coldness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the warmth that used to be there. "Anders ended things," he finally said, his voice strained.

"I know," you replied, your voice still devoid of emotion.

He looked surprised by your response, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Okay, well, I'm done with that. With the casual thing."

"Okay," you echoed, your tone unchanged. You weren't giving him anything, and you could see the frustration mounting in his expression.

Spencer's face was full of desperation as he took a step closer, his voice pleading. "Y/N, I want you."

"Interesting," you replied, the word dripping with indifference. It was a far cry from the response he was hoping for, and you could see the effect it had on him.

He groaned, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "What did I do to you?"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling a surge of anger at his question. The nerve of him to act like he didn’t know, like he hadn’t been the one to string you along while still entertaining other options. "Do you want a list?"

Spencer looked taken aback, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how deep the hurt ran. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. "I didn’t know—"

"You didn’t know?" you cut him off, your voice rising slightly as the frustration that had been building inside you finally found an outlet. "You didn’t know that sleeping with my friend while pretending to care about me might hurt? You didn’t know that making me feel like I was just another option would push me away?"

Spencer flinched at your words, his eyes filled with guilt. "It wasn’t like that. I was confused—I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I know now. I know I want you."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Anders ended things with you, and now you want me? Is that it, Spencer? Am I just your backup plan?"

"No, it’s not like that!" Spencer protested, his voice desperate. "I’ve wanted you from the beginning, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I was scared you didn’t feel the same way, so I kept things casual with Anders because it was easier."

"Easier?" you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. "You were too scared to put yourself out there with me, so you settled for something convenient. And now that that’s over, you think you can just waltz in here and tell me you want me, and everything will be okay?"

Spencer looked stricken, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I’m here now, trying to make it right. I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, but please, just give me a chance."

You stared at him, your heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let yourself fall into the hope that things could be different. But the pain was still too fresh, the wounds too deep.

"I don’t know if I can do this," you admitted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally let some of your emotions show. "You hurt me, Spencer. You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, like I was just another option. I don’t know if I can trust you not to do that again."

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. "I’m not going to hurt you again. I swear. I was an idiot, and I didn’t see what was right in front of me. But I see it now. I see you. And I want you more than anything."

You swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I need time," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can’t just jump into this. I need to figure out if I can trust you."

Spencer nodded, his expression earnest. "Take all the time you need. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just… don’t shut me out completely. Please."

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But it wasn’t going to be easy. There were still a lot of wounds that needed to heal.

"Okay," you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. "But no promises, Spencer. I need to protect myself."

"I understand," Spencer replied, his voice soft. "I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

With that, you both stood there in silence, the tension slowly easing as the gravity of the moment settled between you. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

—

Spencer stayed true to his word. He tried—really tried—to show you that he was serious about earning back your trust. And with each small gesture, he began to chip away at the walls you had built around your heart.

It started with little things, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word. One day, a bouquet of your favorite flowers showed up at your apartment, their vibrant colors brightening up your living room. You stared at them for a long time, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You hadn’t mentioned those flowers in a long time, but Spencer had remembered.

Then, it happened again, this time at your office. Another bouquet, just like the first, with a small note attached that simply said, “Thinking of you. -Spencer.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, despite the lingering caution in your heart.

As the days went on, you started finding coffee and pastries from your favorite bakery on your desk at work, always timed perfectly with when you arrived. There was never any fanfare, no messages or notes—just the simple presence of something you loved, waiting for you. It was as if Spencer was reminding you, in the subtlest of ways, that he was paying attention, that he cared.

But it wasn’t just the thoughtful gifts that caught your attention. Every night, like clockwork, your phone would buzz with a picture. It was always the same—Spencer, alone in bed, a soft, almost shy smile on his face as he looked into the camera. No words accompanied the photos, but the message was clear. He was alone, thinking of you, wanting you to know that you were on his mind before he fell asleep.

And then, there was the location sharing. One day, out of the blue, you received a notification on your phone that Spencer had shared his location with you indefinitely. You stared at the message, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over you. It was a level of transparency you hadn’t expected, and it made your heart ache with the realization that he was really trying—really showing you that he had nothing to hide.

Slowly, despite your best efforts to stay guarded, you found yourself softening. Each gesture, each reminder that Spencer was thinking of you, began to ease the tension that had been coiled so tightly inside you. It didn’t erase the hurt, and it didn’t magically fix everything, but it made you believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth taking a chance on.

One evening, after receiving yet another picture of Spencer alone in bed, you finally caved. You picked up your phone and sent a quick message, simple but full of meaning.

Thank you.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A way to let him know that his efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed, that you were beginning to see the sincerity behind his actions. And as you waited for his reply, a small part of you began to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

Spencer’s response came almost immediately, a single word that made your heart flutter.

Always.

And in that moment, you realized that perhaps, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were beginning to believe that this time, Spencer really meant it. That he was really trying to be the man you deserved. And that maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself believe in him too.

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tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle

[grifffins]

need to know your horny Headcanons about Lilia & Avis

This was meant to be a headcanon post, but somewhere along the way, it spiralled into something filthier, more like a fic in disguise.

Lilia:

Lilia Calderu is the embodiment of indulgence, she doesn’t just enjoy pleasure, she luxuriates in it, revels in the way bodies move together, in the unhurried, hypnotic rhythm of slow, lingering touch. I feel like she’d be a switch, she craves intimacy and nothing satisfies her quite like slow, drawn out sex that stretches on for hours, leaving both of you flushed, breathless, and completely sated.

I dooo feel like she’d lowkey has a mommy kink, and she wants to be adored and worshipped. The first time you call her Mommy, she smirks, tilts her head, strokes her fingers through your hair as if she’s merely humouring you. But when you say it properly, when your voice catches, soft and reverent, when your hands tremble against her skin, when your lips press into her throat and you whisper it like a confession? Oh, she shudders.

She cups your face, makes you look at her, fingers tilting your chin up as she hums in satisfaction. And when she strokes your cheek, when she leans in so close that her lips barely graze yours, when she coos, "Good girl," in that soft, velvety voice? She watches the way you wilt under her praise, the way your breath stutters, the way your fingers tighten.

She is obsessed with being worshipped, adored, cherished. She loves the way you suck at her breasts, the way you nuzzle into her chest, the way you cling to her as if she’s the only thing that matters. She’ll let you do it for hours, let you nuzzle and suckle, let your lips and tongue tease her nipples while she sighs in pleasure. She’ll lounge on the couch, sip her wine, read a book, watch tv, let her fingers run through your hair as you lazily mouth at her skin, lost in the warmth of her body.  (I also read this amazing fic and i’m now convinced lilia has a lactation kink.)

She’ll also let you eat her out for hours, too. She has the tiniest bit of a pillow princess streak, and she is not ashamed of it. She loves being pampered, spoiled, utterly ruined with slow, careful precision. If you kiss down her stomach, spread her open, let your tongue drag through her soaked folds with agonising patience? She tilts her head back, gasps softly, fingers tightening in your hair as her thighs tremble.

She lets you take your time, lets you kiss and suck and tease, lets you worship her the way she deserves to be worshipped. And if you drag it out, make her wait, hold her down when she tries to squirm? She shudders, grits her teeth, glares down at you through hooded, dark eyes, but she never tells you to stop.

And when she finally comes apart? When you flick your tongue over her clit just right, when you suck at it just enough to push her over the edge?

Lilia is loud, breathless, shuddering, gasping your name, fingers clenching at the sheets as her thighs squeeze around your head. Lilia is loud in bed.

She is also about the soft, slow, aching intimacy. Morning sex is a regular occurrence, where she is warm, sleep heavy, body pliant beneath you as she sighs in pleasure.

There’s no urgency, no frantic desperation, just slow, lingering touch, lips pressed against each other in lazy, unhurried kisses, fingers tangling in hair, bodies moulding together like they were meant to fit.

She hums, murmuring soft Italian against your lips, voice thick with sleep as her nails trace gentle patterns down your back, fingers dragging through your hair as she pulls you closer, unwilling to part from you for even a second. If she’s on top, she straddles your thigh or presses her slick centre against yours, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, dragging out every second of pleasure, rubbing against you with sinful, lazy movements that send shivers down your spine. She takes her time, lets you feel everything, every soft, heated slide of her against you, every teasing grind that has you clutching at her waist, desperate for more. She smiles against your lips, utterly indulgent, utterly in control, letting you drown in the sensation as she whispers, “Just like that, baby. Let me feel you.”

If she’s beneath you, she sighs, tilts her head back, hands sliding over your shoulders, down your back, over the curve of your waist, pulling you in until there’s nothing left between you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp as she guides you down, breathing soft, reverent praise into your ear. Her thighs press against yours, holding you there as she grinds against your leg or moves in tandem with you, pressing her dripping core against yours in slow, teasing drags that leave both of you breathless. She moans, lips parting as she murmurs sweet nothings into your mouth, voice thick with pleasure, soft little whimpers, sighs, hushed Italian slipping from her tongue as she trembles beneath you. She wants to feel you everywhere, to be consumed by you, to pull you so deep inside her world that she’s the only thing you’ll ever crave.

And when she comes? It’s soft but loud, drawn out, breath hitching, thighs trembling, hands clinging to your shoulders as her body shudders through the pleasure.

Afterwards, she is lazy, utterly satisfied, stretching like a spoiled cat, pressing languid kisses along your jaw.

And when you call her Mommy again, voice laced with exhaustion, stroking your fingers over her thigh?

She smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead, and murmurs, "You are utterly insatiable, tesoro."

Okay now Avis:

Avis Amberg is a woman who thinks she knows control. She’s spent her life managing appearances, mastering the art of social manipulation, playing the perfect housewife while indulging in her private affairs. She’s had lovers before, fleeting distractions, carefully chosen and kept at arm’s length, but none of them have ever truly known her, truly taken her apart, truly ruined her, none of them she truly trusted for her to give them control.

But she trusts you.

She’s a brat, a tease, a woman who knows her own mind and enjoys making you work for her. She’s calculated, measured, slow to react, until you catch her off guard. Until you push her against the nearest surface, pin her wrists, press your body flush against hers and murmur, "Is this what you wanted?"

And that’s when you see it, the sharp inhale, the way her pupils blow wide, the way her lips part like she’s about to say something clever, but nothing comes out. 

She tests you, constantly, winding you up just to see what you’ll do about it. She drags her fingers down your arms, lets her lips hover near yours but never quite closes the distance, smirks when she sees the frustration flicker in your gaze. She wants you desperate, she wants you impatient, she wants you hungry for her.

But when you catch her wrist, pull her back, shove her down onto the bed, pin her hands above her head?

She shudders.

Her cocky smirk falters, her breath catches, her body tenses beneath you, torn between resistance and surrender,  and then she lets you have her.

Avis Amberg is a squirter.

The first time you make her squirt, she doesn’t even know what’s happening.

She’s never done it before, never thought she could, but you drag it out of her, take her apart with your mouth, with your fingers, with slow, torturous precision until her body gives in completely.

She’s already wrecked, back arching, breath coming in these soft, hitched gasps as you work her open, as you edge her until she’s trembling, until her thighs are quivering around your head, until she’s gasping your name like a prayer.

She fights it at first, tries to keep some level of control, but then her voice breaks, her back bows, and she lets out a sharp, breathless moan—

And then wetness floods the sheets.

She jerks, gasping, utterly undone, and she doesn’t even realise at first. Her legs are shaking, her chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths, her body twitching from the aftershocks. And then she looks down. Sees the absolute state of the bed. Sees the way her thighs are drenched, sees the way you’re smirking at her. "You squirted, sweetheart."

Her eyes widen, her face flushes deep red, and she stares at you in utter disbelief.

"No, I did not."

You laugh, drag your fingers through the mess, bring them up to her lips.

"You soaked the fucking bed, Avis. You drenched it."

She glares. Turns her head away with a haughty little huff, pretending she’s not absolutely wrecked over this.

But she can’t stop thinking about it. Every time you touch her after that, every time you pin her down, whisper filth in her ear, tell her you’re going to ruin her again? She shivers, thighs pressing together, already so fucking wet for you

Avis also loves the strap.

Loves letting you fuck her with it, when you make her take every inch, when you stretch her open until she’s gasping, whimpering, hands clutching desperately at the sheets? She loses it completely. She moans, curses, squirms, squirts all over again, completely and utterly wrecked. You make her watch sometimes. Make her look down, see how soaked she is, how messy she gets just for you.

Avis also loves orgasm denial, being edged. She doesn’t beg. She refuses to. But if you tease her, make her wait, draw it out enough? She gets so impatient, huffing, shifting, her fingers twitching like she wants to grab you but won’t let herself.

And then she finally snaps, she grits out, “Please,” in that defiant, frustrated way

She’s a mess when she falls apart, breathless, back arching, gripping at your wrists like she’s trying to ground herself. She’ll curse, whimper, let out these sharp, high pitched gasps that she’d be embarrassed about if she had the brainpower to care.

Also we all know It’s canon that Avis Amberg likes to be called Mama.

I think she’d be down for overstimulation too. She doesn’t think she likes overstimulation, not until you push her past the edge for the first time. She’s still shaking, breathless, thighs trembling, and when you keep going, she lets out a soft, broken gasp, hands gripping at your arms. It’s too much, but she doesn’t want you to stop.  She whimpers, body tensing, then melting, utterly undone beneath you.And when you murmur, “Just one more, Mama,” she shudders, moaning as pleasure washes over her again, completely lost in you.

She loves pushing boundaries, but never so far that she risks her life, or her image. But she adores lowkey exhibitionism, just enough to make both your pulses quicken, just enough to watch you both squirm. Just enough to feel the thrill of the possibility of being caught. Whether it's in her office, or a public restroom etc. 

She'll slip her panties off discreetly under the dinner table, pressing the silk into your palm while smiling serenely at your shocked expression. She sips her drink, watching your eyes widen, your cheeks flush, delighting in the way your fingers grip the delicate fabric beneath the tablecloth.

When you finally rise on shaky legs and head to the restaurant bathroom, she doesn’t hesitate to follow you moments later. She presses you against the sink, coming up behind you, gathering your skirt in one hand and shoving the other roughly into your underwear, fingers pushing inside without hesitation.

Later, when you're tangled together in her bed, the only light coming from the glow of a half burnt out cigarette in the tray, you both take your time. No teasing games, no sharp, biting words, just deep, slow strokes of her fingers, her body pressed against yours, warm and unhurried. She kisses you softly, languid and thorough, her lips moving in sync with the slow thrust of her fingers, curling just right.

She whispers against your skin, murmuring sweet, filthy things in that voice that always sounds so composed, even when she’s falling apart with you. Her free hand strokes over your stomach, down to your thigh, squeezing gently, possessively, like she’s mapping you out in the dark.

Afterwards, Avis always shares her cigarettes with you, leaning close, pressing the filter to your lips as you both catch your breath, smoke curling lazily between your parted mouths. She smiles against your cheek, voice low and smoky, whispering teasing promises of next time. She loves these quiet moments, the intimacy of sharing a single cigarette, bodies tangled, hearts racing, just you, her, and the lingering, decadent taste of stolen pleasure.

[ga-cchn]

It's not your fault (Baek Yoonho x Gn reader hurt/comfort)

Request: Nope

Pairing: Baek Yoonho x Gn reader (married)

Synopsis: After the Jeju Island Raid, as the guild master, Baek Yoonho has to keep going. However, as his partner, you see the cracks.

Tw: SPOiLER FOR S2 OF SOLO LEVELING, brief mention death

Notes: We need more fanfic with this man.

Coping the loss of someone can be different for everyone. For Baek Yoonho, as the White Tiger’s guild master, work was for him the easy way to trying to forget what happen during the Jeju Island raid. Of course, at the end, the threat was killed thanks to Sung Jinwoo and his shadow and the world was safe again.

You remember the blur of emotions when you saw your husband coming back home alive after seeing him deeply wounded by the Ant monster. It was a mix of relief and happiness that quickly turned into pure sadness as Yoonho dropped the bad news: Min Byung-Gyu has been killed during the raid. His best friend is dead. You cried so much that day, in the arms of Yoonho, who tried to stay strong for you but you felt his body shake and saw his eyes with unshed tears.

Some weeks after the raid, everything went back to a sense of normality. The grief was still there in both of your hearts but as a guild master, Baek needed to keep going without failing his teammates. Filling his time with more paperwork every day, it was now a regular pattern for your husband to come home late when you are already asleep. You only saw each other in the morning, however his growing eyebags didn’t get unnoticed even if you don’t have his sharp perceptive ability. Understanding the situation, you are not mad at him for it, on the contrary. You know that Byung-Gyu’s death took a toll on Yoonho, what was worrying you is the fact that he doesn’t want to talk about it, that he is keeping everything for himself, carrying this burden along with his charge of Guild Master and S-rank Hunter. You need to help him; he was there when you were grieving, so it’s your turn to show that you are here for him.

One night, when you were already in bed like always, you heard the entrance door open and recognized the footsteps of your husband around the apartment. You heard him coming toward your shared room, enter it slowly to not make any noise to not disturb you (even if you were not sleeping) and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, washing off the day at the guild. When Yoonho came out, he was wearing a simple white tee-shirt and his boxer and quietly slipped under to cover, his back turned to you.

You heard his sight of tiredness, making your chest ache a bit in your ribcage. It’s now or never. Softly, you moved toward your husband and your arms went around his torso and waist, one hand on his beating heart, your head in the crook of his neck, spooning him. It was rare for you to be the big spoon but this time it was what he needed. Feeling his body tense a bit and then relax a bit in your hold, one of his hands gripped the one on his heart.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry sweatheart.”

“No, it’s okay.”

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. You can actually feel the tension and exhaustion in his entire body.

“Tiger?”

He hummed at the nickname. Before speaking, your hold tightens and you think about the right word to say:

“I…I know that loosing someone is hard, especially Byung-Gyu, and I know that I’m so far away from what you are going through but I just want to let you know that…That I’m here for you. As a listener, as a friend, as your partner...It worries me to see you building a shell around you when you are hurting. I can see it and I want to help you…like you helped me. You don’t have to be strong with me, I’m just Y/N, your partner… So please, talk to me so we can share your grief, so you’re not alone in this, I’m here for you, my love.”

Yoonho didn’t answer right away, making you worry that your choice of words was not correct and that you just upset him more. What you did not except, was for him to bring your conjoined hands for a soft kiss. His body was still stiff and he was still not facing you but you felt with the gesture and the shaking of his hand, a small crack on the wall he builds around his own heart.

“I saw him again after his death.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, but you keep your mouth shut.

“Hunter Sung resurrected him as a shadow to heal hunter Cha from a fatal wound, which he did. It was real, he was real. But you know that he always hated violence, always hated fight, that’s why he was a healer… Why he retired before the raid.”

You nodded your head, showing that you are listening and quickly you sensed what was going on inside his mind.

“When Hunter Sung let his shadow go, as I asked for respect of his choice, he…he smiled at me like he knew what I was thinking, like he wanted to tell me that-“

His body was shaking now and Yoonho tried to stop the sob that wanted to come out. Your heart broke at the sight and you usher him softly to turn over and face you. When he did, you saw his eyes were filled with tears that were threatening to spill. Placing a hand on his cheek, you finished his sentence.

“That it was not your fault.”

Those simple words were the final straw for his tears to roll slowly. Grief and guilt are not the best combination for someone like your husband, when the death of his comrade is affecting him so much.

He was fully crying in your arm now, sharing his pain with you and letting go of all the emotion he kept for himself. And you were her to welcome it, tightening you grip around him with both arms, mumbling words affection and slightly tracing circle on his back to sooth him. The two of you stayed like that for a long time until his tears dried out. When your eyes locked on each other, it was not the S-rank hunter that was looking at you but your grieving husband. You wiped the remaining tears off and you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“You are not at fault for his death.”

Yoonho was ready to argue but you cut him off, wanting him to listen to you.

“He knew the risk when he chose to be in this raid like you or Jong-in. Death and Hunter will always be tied together.”

“He was retired when he decided to come for the raid, and because of what? Because of me, because I told him that I was going to Jeju Island!”

“But he chose for himself.” you looked at him with understanding and fondness. “He could have just let go of this idea and go back to retirement but he didn’t, because he was an amazing hunter, because even if he hated violence, he wanted to help as much people as he could. He wanted to help you like always when you were a team. I know it’s not fair and I know that it hurts but the smile he sent you was not for you to feel guilt about his death but for you to remember him for his determination and devotion.”

You smiled at your husband with only sympathy and gentleness in your eyes. He sighs shakily and brought you in his arms this time, his forehead on the center of your collarbones.

“I was a shitty husband for the past few weeks, huh?”

“No, you were just grieving and in pain and that is completely fine Tiger.”

“When are going to stop using this one?”

You chuckled teasingly: “Never.”

Yoonho shook his head, a small smile on his lips. With your arms around each other, he finally found a place where he does not have to be strong all the time.

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

Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope that you liked it! :)

Sorry again for my grammar errors, English is not my first language :)

[acowboynamedasa]

“Well what does it look like to you bones?” Jim said popping out from behind the curtain in med bay.

Spock sat ‘all zoned out and dissociated’ he remembers Jim telling McCoy, for the duration of the scuffle on planet. once getting beamed up, with or without the perpetrators Spock wasn’t completely sure, he was promptly dragged to med bay by his captain.

“Jim!” Bones yelled “how many times do I have to tell you to wait in the waiting area!”

“I want to know how my first officer is before I take my seat back from Mr. sulu,” he explained.

Spock felt himself swallow, it felt wrong, more warm and strange. Everything about him felt more warm and strange. Jim wasn’t at all hushed- but he sounded much quieter.

“I’m feeling alright captain, just a bit weak,” Spock mustered he was far, far more tired then he had ever felt before. His own voice echoed through his head in a strange way that disorienting him.

“Spock, you don’t look alright,“ Jim doted “I mean doc what do you make of this?”

Bones sighed “it seems that whatever phaser he got shot with down there made him, at least appear, human.” Spock froze, “all the tests I’ve done have completely regular healthy ,human vitals. 98 degree temp, 87 heart rate- and your hearts where it is for a human too, I mean really, Spock- blood oxygen, hemoglobin, blood pressure, it’s all…human.”

Spock looked at the ground. That did explain why he felt so weak, deaf, blind, and twitchy. How would he go on like this? He felt so- so fragile. It was a strange sensation feeling his heart beat in his throat instead of his side.

“…fascinating” Spock mumbled

They both waited for him to continue- but he did not, he just kept staring at his feet.

“I’m relieving you from the rest of your duties tonight, mr.Spock ” Jim said as though he had already made up his mind before the check up.

“Illogical, captain, I am perfectly capable-“

“I’m sure that you are,” he cut him off “but you need time to process this, and you need a nap I’m sure.” He put out a hand “how long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Spock took Jim’s hand automatically and… there was… there was nothing.

There was No warm glow of his emotion, no small image of a forest or mountain range, there was just nothing. It was like he had touched a warm, fleshy mannequin.

Spock couldn’t live like this.

“3 days,” he answered unintentionally starring at Jim’s hand in his.

Bone’s eyebrows shot up “ that’s dangerous Spock! You’re risking brain damage!”

“I’m aware of how Vulcan sleep patterns differ from human one’s doctor. ” Spock said as Jim pulled him to his feet-

exempt his legs were much much weaker than he expected them to be. He stumbled forward, Jim grabbed his arm to steady him- his grip felt so much stronger than it had before.

“Are you alright?” Jim asked, his eyes terrified

“Yes, Jim, I’m fine,” Spock huffed more than anything “though, I believe I could use your assistance on the way to my quarters.”

“Christ alive,” McCoy huffed seeing him stumble awkwardly “You can stay here to sleep you know,”

“I am aware of that doctor,” Spock chimed “I wish to meditate in my quarters.”

Kirk mumbled a soft “of course,” hardly audible as he threw Spock’s arm over his shoulder and pressed his hip into Spock’s side to steady him.

Spock could always hear Jim’s small mutterings before- and if he couldn’t hear them, well, he could feel them. Now he didn’t get anything, he felt like broken radio.

“You ready?” Jim asked softly but closer now. Spock nodded. “Thank you bones, see you soon,” He called behind them as they walked away in tandem.

“Like hell you will!” Bones called back.

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #38

#MerMay 2025 Special

"And here-" Reaching into the drawer beside his desk, the Professor took out a large stack of documents, placing it before you solemnly. "-are the files and information you need to get started on your own project. What do you say, do you feel up to the task?"

You gulped.

There it was, finally, the chance of a lifetime. After dedicating years to studying marine life, you were finally allowed to work in this field and given an opportunity to prove yourself and your abilities. The IML Research Facility hadn't been your first choice, but it was the only one that accepted you—the field had turned out to be much more competitive than you thought.

As far as you had seen, it was huge. Huge enough to make you sign all kinds of NDA just to visit them for an interview. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time, but you had been very impressed with all the machinery and enclosures you had been shown. They had tanks and machines for every kind of species, they even started successfully housing orcas, as you had been told. Everything was provided, from a place to live free of charge to fresh food three times a day. A perfect environment to study and focus on work without disruptions.

From what you heard from the other workers, the pay was good, and you had enough days off to recharge after the busy work season. Besides, you'd get to work with professionals, trail them for the first few days, and then get assigned your own project to handle how you saw fit. What more could one need?

With nervous hands, you reached for the papers, but the Professor laid his palm down on them before you could. You looked up at him in surprise, finding him smiling warmly and with the confidence of a man his age. He didn't just lead this facility, he was also a well-known face in the scene, giving regular speeches and traveling the world to convey the message of how important it was to take care of the ocean and all its inhabitants.

He was everything you wanted to be.

"I see a lot of potential in you," he admitted, sounding so convincing it almost made you cry. Many had doubted your choices and ambitions, but here, you were welcome. You were between your own kind of people.

"I want you here, at this facility, helping us develop great things for all living beings. But I need you to know..."

Ah, you thought. Here it comes. The catch. It was too good to be true.

However, against your expectations, the Professor's grin widened as he let out a hearty laugh.

"Once you start, you might never want to leave! Most of our researchers just can't separate from their protegees anymore!"

You let out a small laugh, too, as the pressure vanished from your body, the bad news you expected never coming. Nothing wrong with being passionate about your work, right? You could see yourself falling into this pattern as well if everything was as wonderful as you hoped.

"All I need you to do," the Professor instructed, pointing at the pile of documents in front of you. "Is to sign the contract on top of here, and in a few minutes, you'll be out and about, learning the ropes and meeting your new best friend—your new workplace! We also prepared a little welcome treat for you in your room."

The Professor winked at you, fumbling with the folder on top of the papers until he pulled a work contract from it. It seemed to be about a few pages with neat rows of sentences. Many sentences, in a small font, that made it incredibly hard to read.

"Oh, wow, uh, you are so prepared!" you mumbled, taken aback that you were supposed to sign right away. Didn't everybody always say you get some time to think about it? Sleep over it? You couldn't possibly sign it right now, or did you?

"How about I take this home with me and give it some thought and get back to you?" you offered, reaching for the pile of paper when the Professor's hand once again came down on it, this time with an audible thud, tearing the documents from your grip.

"I'm afraid," he sighed, "that isn't possible."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just..." He got up from his chair, turning towards the impressive wall of photographs and awards behind him with a thoughtful expression.

"We at IML are very strict about our research going out. People out there," he clicked his tongue in disapproval, "they are like seagulls. They just can't get enough and steal everything—even our contracts. We can't risk losing another battle in front of a judge just because they copied and overwrote all of our hard work. They will misuse and abuse all of our creations and studies for their capitalistic goals. All while we fight for those without voices. Once someone leaves the facility... they won't be allowed back. To protect what needs to be protected. You understand that, right?"

The Professor looked back at you with a defeated yet unwavering expression, and you gave him a slow nod. To be fair, you didn't really get it. Weren't those wanting to see the research also interested in protecting the ocean like the IML Research Facility? Yet, you knew firsthand how competitive this field was, given your lack of work opportunities.

Staring at the papers in front of you, you couldn't help but want to read through them before signing something that was so preciously protected. But on the other hand, this might just be the chance. If you left without risking anything, who knew if you'd ever find something as distinguished and aligned with your own goal as this facility was?

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)