#i have to get at least 8 hours of sleep a night to even barely function

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.

For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.

I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Flesh Wound - Dr. Jack Abbot x chef!reader

Summary: 2.5k words. Dr. Abbot's wife's cancels date night after suffering a kitchen mishap. In an effort to avoid adding to his stress, she takes herself--and her bloody hand--to the Pitt without telling him.

Warnings: canon-typical gore, blood, graphic descriptions of wounds, & knives. Colorful language, per usual. Implied age gap. breaking select grammar rules because I can. not beta read.

a/n: This got away from me and is longer than necessary lmao. I’m not in love with it, but I need to get it out of my brain and drafts so it stops plaguing me. Enjoy my first Pitt fic! Divider credit!

“Fuck!” you hissed. The kitchen came to a standstill around you; your cooks, dishwashers, and wait staff suddenly focused on the angry gash on your hand.

Abby’s was your pride and joy. Back in the day, culinary school felt like a gamble and then some. Today, you thank your lucky stars that it panned out well. The restaurant you’d built from the ground up was often featured in local publications and had grown into a neighborhood hub—it was a success from the day you first opened the doors to the public.

On days you didn’t stay at work for the full evening rush—like tonight, when you had your silver fox of a husband waiting at home with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and the full Netflix catalogue at your fingertips—you at least made sure to come in for a couple hours in the afternoon to help set up and ensure your staff had all the support they needed for a successful night.

Amid prep work for a new dish you were piloting, you looked away at just the wrong moment when your name was called, resulting in the unmistakable piercing feeling shooting through your hand. You’d nicked yourself. Well, more than nicked yourself, because you were now bleeding at a rate that would have Javadi passed out cold on the floor.

This certainly wasn’t your first knife injury and probably wouldn’t be your last. You haphazardly cleaned up your station as best you could while holding pressure to the wound with a towel. Accidents happen to everyone, no matter how long they’ve been in the industry. That didn’t mean it wasn’t embarrassing to slice your palm open in front of the staff who were supposed to look up to you. 

You bit your lip and willed the tears to stay at bay after closing your office door. You tried taking deep breaths as you sat on the edge of your desk. In for 4, out for 8. In for 5, out for 10.

It didn’t help much.

This hurts like a bitch, you cursed through the unrelenting stinging. It was worse than any other kitchen injuries you’d had in recent memory. You remembered your husband rambling about how the hands were one of the most highly vascularized parts of the body. When it bleeds, it bleeds, he said to you. You were acutely aware of that now.

The bleeding wasn’t showing signs of stopping anytime soon, even after you’d soaked through two hand towels. Jack had taught you quite a bit of first aid and then some over the years, but even you recognized that you couldn’t patch yourself up. When a little fuzzy feeling began to sink in, you knew it was time to seek medical attention from a professional who wouldn’t spiral at the mere notion of you being harmed.

Sure, you could’ve called your trauma doctor husband, who seldom went anywhere without his ‘go bag’, but that would make too much sense. You didn’t want Jack to worry about you. He did anyway, but you didn’t want to add to his stress. The salt and pepper hair suited him well–you frequently reminded him when you carded your fingers through his curls–but if he went full-on gray, you might be accused of grave robbing.

“Doctor Abbot speaking,” the man grunted in greeting. The trauma doc hadn’t looked at the caller ID before answering. Or maybe his mind was still filled with the post-night shift sleep haze.

“Hey, honey,” you smiled through the phone despite your barely contained anxiety. The fresh towel you left the restaurant with was quickly turning crimson. The walk to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was 15 minutes, and you prayed that you’d make it there before the towel was soaked through or before you passed out—whichever would come first.

Your voice washed over Jack like warm honey. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed deeply. Per usual, he hadn’t realized how tense he was until you dissolved his stress.

“Hello, my beautiful wife,” he flirted through the phone, the corners of his lips ticking up into a smile. Several years into your relationship, he could still make you blush.

“I know we planned to stay in tonight and watch a movie, but I’m gonna have to stay at the restaurant late. We got slammed, and I need to make sure the team has everything they need.” That counted as a white lie, right? Jack and his wife didn’t keep secrets. But this time, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, you rationalized. You would tell him once you were all stitched up, snuggling at home with him, and not pale as a ghost. You would tell him when you could laugh about it, at how silly the oopsie you made in the kitchen was. Right now you were not laughing.

Abbot nodded, though you couldn’t see it. Your dedication to making sure your staff were taken care of was admirable; you were always so attentive, caring, and considerate. But selfishly, Jack would’ve given his other leg to spend a night with his wife. 

It wasn’t like you both weren’t used to taking rainchecks. Sometimes chefs called out sick and you had to step up, or put out metaphorical and literal fires. Other times, Jack’s pager seemed to be determined to set a record for most received messages.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. We can do something tomorrow.” It was a promise they’d hold each other to.

Years in service to the military and working in healthcare–emergency medicine, no less–meant he was used to change and could be flexible, to say the least. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be miserable to everyone around him until he saw his wife again.

Keeping a low profile at the Pitt was damn near impossible given your reputation.

The ER staff were well acquainted with Dr. Abbot’s wife, the pretty lady who brought them food. It started when you brought Jack dinner, and then Dana too. Sometimes Robby if you caught him at the right time. Eventually, you’d occasionally drop off catering-sized orders from Abby’s to be shared amongst the Pitt staff, just because.

A concerning majority of the providers, nurses, techs, RTs, and radiology staff survived 13-hour shifts on protein bars and far more milligrams of caffeine than was considered safe for human consumption. (It was a good thing they had plenty of 12 leads and crash carts full of pharm goodies for when a staff member inevitably developed a caffeine-induced dysrhythmia.) When the smell of Dr. Abbot’s wife’s food filled the Pitt, they knew they were in for a treat.

“You got any food for us, Mrs. Abbot?” Lupe asked as you approached the thick registration desk glass, before her eyes fell to your hand cradled against your chest. Definitely not catering.

Unfortunately for you, the third towel was fully saturated by the time you made it through the lobby’s double doors. The fuzzy feeling from earlier was quickly advancing to woozy.

Lupe and Dana brought you straight back from triage, effectively bumping you to the top of the queue. Maybe it wasn’t entirely according to hospital policy, but they’d never hear the end of it from Abbot if he found out his wife was stuck in a waiting room while she bled out.

“Everything is still attached, but the cut’s deep,” you relayed to Dana, who hummed as she peeled back the towel to assess the damage.

“Your husband know you’re here?” Dana asked, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. She knew the answer based on the fact that Abbot hadn’t tore through the damn building to get to you. Yet, anyway. She more so asked to give you a chance to reflect on your dumb decision to not inform your husband.

“I don’t want to stress him out. Please don’t tell him?” You pleaded.

“I won’t say anything, but I can’t control what happens when he sees his last name on the wrong part of the status board.” Her emphasis on when made it clear that it was only a matter of time, not if.

Of course he would pick up a shift once his evening freed up. He was a workaholic, but so were you. Birds of a feather.

When Doctor Robinavitch and Javadi pulled back the room’s curtain, Dana did the talking–nausea was setting in along with a wicked headache. You refused to look at the laceration at this point, eyes trained on the ceiling tiles above you.

“BP is soft,” Robby observed. Dana nodded while holding pressure to the wound with gauze. “Let’s start some IV fluids to get it back up; you definitely had some blood loss today.” Not helping, you thought as another wave of nausea rolled through you.

“She said she doesn’t want Dr. Abbot to know, and I’m not about to get in the middle of that. Plus, provider-patient confidentiality,” Robby finished with a shrug to Dana at the nurse’s station.

“Who doesn’t want me to know what?” Abbot asked, cosmic timing seemingly on his side. He was here far earlier than he needed to be for his shift, but he had nothing better to do Better than sulking at home, missing his wife. He’d still miss her while he was working, but at least he’d have an active distraction. His grip was firm on the strap of his camo backpack slung over his shoulder.

Robby groaned and his eyes scrunched shut as he slowly turned to face the night shift attending. Dana answered the nurse’s station phone within a nanosecond of the first shrill ring, leaving Robby to fend for himself.

Abbot looked at him expectantly, his patience quickly waning. Robby shook his head and vaguely nodded his head backwards, simply sighing “room 4” before getting back to work. Jack didn’t press for more info, just crossed the Pitt with long, purposeful strides. His heart dropped and the world around him slowed when he saw his wife laying back on a gurney, hooked up to IV fluids with gauze around her hand.

He didn’t bother to knock before entering, yanking the curtain open with an abrasive tug. He immediately started scanning you head to toe and noted the color drained from your face, a bloody rag in the biohazard bin, and the remnants of a suture kit in the waste bin.

“Baby, what the hell happened?” Jack asked, wild eyes bouncing between the vitals monitor to your tired form. You squeezed her eyes shut and cursed the fact that PTMC was the closest ER to Abby’s.

“I told Robby not to call you,” you grumbled. Your husband grunted.

“He didn’t call me. I picked up a shift.” You knew Jack wasn’t upset with you directly. Seeing you in the same department where patients regularly coded and trauma alerts rolled through at light speed to the trauma bay unnerved him.

You felt a twang of guilt in your chest. Jack wouldn’t have come in on his first night off in a while if you hadn’t canceled date night. And date night wouldn’t have been canceled if you’d just been paying more attention in the kitchen. You extended your unaffected hand to your husband and he grasped it in an instant. 

His tense shoulders and tight jaw gave him away. You hated to see him needlessly stressed, but it also warmed you in an odd way—how lucky you are to have someone care for you so deeply. Someone as weathered and worn as Jack, who has seen his fair share of trauma and then some, loves you to the point of worry. What a privilege that is.

Jack’s shift technically didn’t start for another 20 minutes. He had every intention of spending those minutes right by your side.

Saved by the bell a few minutes before shift change, Robby came back in for rounds, tailed by Javadi (who, to her credit, did not pass out at the sight of copious blood flowing from your hand earlier). “Hey, love birds,” Robby greeted with a grin. Abbot’s lips stayed pressed in a thin line while you smiled weakly back at the attending and the med student who followed him around like a little duckling.

Dr. Robinavitch gestured for Javadi to present the case to Dr. Abbot. The poor girl looked like a deer caught in headlights at the harsh stare Abbot pinned her with. Her gaze bounced from your joined hands back to the attending before she cleared her throat and began. Javadi described the depth of the laceration and the amount of stitches required, topical TXA, IV fluid bolus and subsequent drip for hypotension. Jack forced air from his nose before inhaling again, squeezing your hand tighter.

“Princess will be in shortly with your discharge paperwork and home care instructions,” Robby winked as he left you and Abbot by yourselves. Jack snorted. There was no way in hell you’d be caring for the wound yourself, not if he could help it.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jack’s voice was quiet. He wasn’t mad, but rattled. You twisted your mouth to the side, feeling a bit of shame. This wasn’t how you imagined your evening going.

“Technically, I did… on my walk here…” you offered. It sounded weak even to your ears. Jack deadpanned. It didn’t land well. You sighed and rolled to face your husband fully. “I didn’t want you to worry about me,” you whispered, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray you. Jack pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’m always going to worry about you, sweetheart. Because I love you.” His fingers traced your jawline. Jack, who woke up with night terrors well over a decade after the war-torn atrocities he’d seen, gazed at you tenderly. You had half a mind to make a ‘Tis but a scratch joke, but figured that might send him over the edge.

“I love you too.” It wasn’t a reply, it was a promise. Jack kissed the back of your hand, your fingers intertwined until he had to go.

Dr. Robinavitch hung around until he was satisfied with your blood pressure so he could drive you home. Even if you had politely declined, he would’ve stayed. Abbot certainly wouldn’t have let him hear the end of it if his wife had to take a taxi home from the ER. Robby guided you toward the exit, holding your bag and his. Gotta keep our patient satisfaction scores up.

Jack doffed his gloves while he jogged to meet you before you reached the door. He blindly tossed the blue nitrile gloves in the direction of the nearest waste bin, not bothering to check if he made it in. But they had, because of course they would. Cocky motherfucker.

Jack wordlessly pulled you to him, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your head to his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

“Take it easy, okay?” The two of you could’ve been slow dancing in a burning room, but Jack wouldn’t have noticed. He tuned out the constant buzz of the Pitt and focused solely on you. You offered your free hand up for a pinkie promise.

If the med students and interns saw Dr. Abbot go soft—oh so whipped for his wife—and make a pinkie promise, they knew better than to say anything about it.

a/n: Reblogs & comments are much appreciated 🥰

Find more of my writing on my master list.

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[channieschaoscorner]

Tipping Point - Stray Kids x female!9th member reader

Pairing: ot8!Skz x 9th member reader

Summary: You and Chan had worked together for so long, it’s only natural that you have your arguments.

Genre: Angst, fluff at the end, slight reader x chan if you squint hard enough, choreographer reader and producer Chan go head to head but we still love them, bad language and insults in an argument

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my first imagine! I have a few ideas for some more 9th member fics but please message if you have any ideas or anything you would like to see!!!!! Also apologies if there’s any typos, I do proof read my work but I’m not perfect lol

Prequel: First Meeting

Masterlist

────୨ৎ────

The music blaring out of the speakers bordered on obscene, it didn’t matter though. It was late enough that barely anyone was left in the building, and if they were then they were far too preoccupied with their own work to care about what others were doing. Your phone blinked in the corner with unread messages and calls, ignoring them as you could guess who they were room all you did was check the time. It was late but you were still too wound up to even think about heading home, that and you still had far too much work to do on this choreography. It was nowhere near what you needed it to be, but then again if it was what you needed then you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be at home either in bed or tucked up on the sofa with the TV on being piled on by the boys (Felix, it was always Felix.)

You groaned and hit play on the song again, listening to the starting beats and tried to visualise where the boys could be standing. The vocals started and you checked over your notes, trying to come up with the positions on who needed to be centre and who would be coming forward at that specific time. Ideally you’d have another person here that you could place and work around, another choreographer, Minho, even a backup dancer. You’d take anyone at this point if it meant you could get more than 4 hours sleep tonight.

You rewound the song back to the first chorus and stood up, mentally thanking yourself that you’d remembered your tripod so at least you could film what you’d come up with properly and didn’t have to balance your phone against your water bottle just to watch it inevitably fall down as you were in the middle of dancing, like it had done so many times before.

“And 5, 6, 7, 8.” You counted yourself in out loud in an attempt to get used to the counts for when you’d have to teach the boys tomorrow or technically in the morning as it was well past midnight at this stage. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to come up with choreography the night before you had to teach it but you didn’t enjoy doing it. It wasn’t your fault, not that you’d ever tell. You’d only got the song a few hours ago from Chan, who’d held onto it for far longer than promised. You knew it wasn’t done out of malice, he was always so worried about new music that he wanted to keep it for as long as possible until he was sure it was perfect.

Unfortunately for you though this meant your deadline was fast approaching and you hadn’t even heard the finished song. Fast forward through plenty of excuses to staff about trying to perfect the dance and politely asking Chan about the song, you’d run out of time. Which then resulted in the blow out at dinner.

You winced thinking back to the harsh words exchanged and swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling in your chest before hitting play and record one more time.

────୨ৎ────

*Earlier that day*

The dorm was loud, it was on a normal day but today was particularly boisterous. You bit back a laugh as Minho swatted and shooed Felix and Seungmin away from the stove with threats of an air fryer that left Hyunjin thankful he hadn’t offered to help. You hopped up and sat on an empty piece of counter space to watch the chaos unfold in front of you. The screams that came from the other room made you wonder how setting a table could cause them but you chose not to investigate, effectively leaving Han to fend for himself. It was rare over the past few weeks that you’d all been able to sit down and eat together, between so many different schedules you’d become too used to eating at random times and running past each other in the dorm. Hence why Chan had suggested tonight as a day for you all to cook and sit down to eat together.

“It’s been too long since we ate together like a family, we’ll have dinner, movies, snacks. It’ll be good for us after how busy things have been.” He suggested. It was a good suggestion, you’d all agreed quickly to it. There was just one problem.

Chan was nowhere to be seen.

You’d noticed his absence earlier but said nothing, hoping that he was just caught talking to someone and would appear through the doorway, laughing about never being able to leave the building on time.

No such luck.

The boys stood silently around the table as you helped Minho carry in dinner.

“We can hang on a few more minutes, I’m sure he’ll be here soon” Relief flooded in the boys features as they didn’t want to eat without their leader, neither did you if you were being honest and you weren’t looking forward to making the call about when to eat. Eat now whilst dinner was warm and miss Chan which would hurt his feelings or risk waiting for him, possibly all night, and have the dinner they worked so hard on go to waste?

Time to introduce yourself to a rock and a hard place.

“I can try ringing him?”

“Good idea Innie.” You didn’t mention the plethora of texts and missed calls he already had off you that were either sitting unseen or being ignored. For his sake, you hopped it was the first option.

Changbin sidled up to you, “I left him working on that song again, he said he was only going to be 30 minutes and he’d leave straight away.”

You sighed, not surprised that he was working late again. You loved him but being a workaholic and a perfectionist was a combination that sometimes left the rest of you in the firing line. You lifted up your glasses to rub your eyes, already feeling a stress headache start up.

“No answer but I left him a message, maybe he’s just caught up with someone” Jeongin tried halfheartedly.

You had to make a decision, “Ok guys, go put a show on. We can leave this covered up for a bit and it’ll stay warm and we can wait a bit longer for him.”

They filtered in front of TV, slotting into their regular positions which to any outside was a mess of legs, blankets, and insults before everyone got comfortable.

“You don’t think he’s coming do you?” Changbin hadn’t left your side.

“For his sake, I hope he does.”

────୨ৎ────

You weren’t happy to put it mildly.

“Come on guys, let’s eat.” You prolonged this as long as you could but you couldn’t tune out the sound of their stomachs and you weren’t about to let their hard work go to waste. They followed you back to the table and sat down as you held your hands out for their bowls. You worked with Minho going round the table to serve up the food, leaving yourself last.

“Ok, who has news? I want to hear about all of your weeks, I feel like I haven’t seen you all in so long. Tell me everything.” You tried to keep your tone light but you could feel the disappointment hovering around the table like a shadow.

Hyunjin caught your eye, “Well, last week I-”

The door slamming shut cut him off.

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up with some stuff.” Chan walked in looking frazzled, his eyes taking in the table of food. “You weren’t gonna wait?”

Silence.

“We’ve been waiting Chan.” Your tone was short. “We’ve been waiting so long the foods nearly gone cold, you’d know that if you checked your phone.”

“No need to take my head off, I got caught up working on a song”

“Don’t get annoyed with me, you’re the one who wanted us to have dinner together.”

“And I’m here now so let’s eat. Let it go.”

You ground your teeth, biting back an answer in an effort to follow his words and ‘let it go’.

“Did you at least get the song finished?”

He nodded.

“Great, can you send it over to me? I still need to sort the choreography out and-”

“Jesus Y/N, I just got in. Can you wait 5 minutes before you start nagging at me again?”

Your jaw dropped, “Nagging you?”

“Channie hyung maybe you-” Changbin tried to interject but it was no use.

“I’ve just got in and you want the song right now?”

“I don’t want it right now but I need it. I needed the song last week if I’m being honest, you’ve held onto it for so long that I’m making excuses for why the choreography isn’t done.”

Chan waved you off, “You’ll get it done, it won’t take you long.”

You scoffed at his words, “I love your confidence in my ability to choreograph a full song for not only us but the backup dancers too in one night but I could do with a bit longer than that Chan.”

“Fine you want the song? I’ll send it to you right now.” He dropped his chopsticks on the table and stormed off.

You clenched your fists and groaned.

“Do you want one of us to go or?”

“No Binnie, it’s ok I’ll go.”

You followed Chan into his room and shut the door behind yourself. “Don’t storm away from the table like that.”

He didn’t even turn around, “I’m not a child, don’t chastise me.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

He spun around, “Me speak to you like that? I walked in through the door and you were already pissed at me.”

“Because you missed dinner, they’ve been cooking all afternoon and you were late. No text or call, we had to guess when you were going to show up. You let them down, they were excited to do this. I let them out of dance practice early and everything today.”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

“Well for that and because I still don’t a song to teach them.”

“Oh for god’s sake, I’m sending you the fucking song now.”

“Don’t fucking swear at me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch then.” He slammed his laptop closed and pushed back out past you into the hallway.

You followed him shouting, which made the rest of the boys jump when they heard the loud voices. You were arguing in English now but they could pick up on enough words to know this wasn’t a happy conversation.

“If it’s such a panic for you then start working on it now, shouting at me about it won’t make the dance for you.”

“Oh you are such a-”

Chan got a look in his eyes, almost daring you to finish your sentence. “Such a what?”

“A cunt.”

Felix choked on his water resulting in Hyunjin slapping him on the back.

You didn’t wait around for his reply, you all but ran to your room to grab your dance bag and flung clothes into it along with headphones, a tripod and your notebook. You had to get out of here before this got even worse. You needed out of the dorm and the practice room was your solace. You went back to see the boys staring at you, still at the table not one of them daring to move and that made your chest ache. The food was sitting untouched and you took a deep breath.

“Eat as much as you want to, box up what you don’t. Leave the dishes in the sink, I’ll deal with them later. Please go to sleep at a reasonable time, I’ll be back later.”

You made for the door, ignoring the conversations behind you.

“Y/N wait!” Felix chased you, holding something delicately in his hands. The smell hit you first, he’d boxed you up dinner to bring with you. “You didn’t eat.”

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest shifted slightly. “Thank you.” You took the container off him to put at the top of your bag.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Not yet.”

“Well don’t walk back on your own if it’s late, ring me or get a taxi. It’s not safe walking around so late on your own.”

You nodded and gave him a hug. “Go back in Felix, you still need to eat.”

He hugged you back and turned around, ready to join the others back at the table.

“Felix? Don’t tell Chan where I am, I’m in no mood for him.”

────୨ৎ────

The dorm was unnaturally quiet now, a startling comparison to earlier on. The table had been cleared and kitchen was spotless as the boys washed, dried and put all the dishes away. You’d told them you would deal with it later but it didn’t feel right to them to leave a mess behind for you to clean up, especially knowing you wouldn’t get in until the early hours of the morning if you past behaviour was any example to go by.

Chan stood silently watching them clean up, he contemplated leaving without saying anything but couldn’t ignore the fact that you weren’t with them.

“Where is she?”

No one answered.

“It’s late, if she’s out on her own then you need to tell me.”

“She’s not out, she’s fine.” Felix answered.

“So then where is she?”

“She doesn’t want you to know.”

“What?” Chan faltered, he’d known you for years and you’d had disagreements before but you’d never been so annoyed that you actively hid where you were from him.

Felix debated his next words before deciding to say them, “You were an ass to her earlier.”

“I know but-”

“But nothing, she’s been making excuses for weeks now about not having any choreography to show just to give you more time on the song and it’s not the first time. If she doesn’t want to see you now then it’s because she’s under pressure to make the dance and figure out a way to teach it to us before she gets into real trouble over this without dropping you in it and because you hurt her feelings over this. You need to apologise to her.”

With that, Felix left Chan in the kitchen alone as when he left the others followed him. No one felt the need to add anything else, Felix had pretty much covered everyone’s opinion. Felix was right, Chan needed to apologise to you and based on what Felix had said and how well he already knew you, he had a pretty good guess at where you were right now.

────୨ৎ────

*Present*

You flung your notebook in the direction of your bag, too annoyed by the spacing to carry on. You were calling it, there was no way you could figure out this part of the dance without someone else here with you. You had a rough idea of what needed to be done but there was only so much spacing and marking you could do with your water bottle and hoodie, until you got another dancer to help you then you’d need to finish it here. At least you’d got a good amount done, you could teach the chorus at least and parts of the verses tomorrow, and then you could grab Minho and Hyunjin to help you mark out the spacing if they had time in the afternoon.

You were coming up with a plan as you left the practice room, feeling considerably calmer than when you arrived. You newfound peace though was instantly disturbed when you saw who was waiting for you in the lobby.

“Hi.” Chan waved.

You stopped and stared at him.

“Felix didn’t tell me where you were, I guessed.” He was desperately trying to fill the silence, and your staring was starting to make him nervous. “And I was right. I mean, obviously I was right. You’re here and I’m here.”

“I don’t have the energy for you right now.” You spun on your heel and headed straight back to the practice room.

You could hear him following but chose not to acknowledge him, you weren’t lying when you said that you didn’t have the energy for him. You knew he wouldn’t just let you walk home without talking about what had happened so returning to the practice room was the next best thing. He respected your time enough that if he thought you were working, he wouldn’t interrupt you.

So, despite wanting nothing more than to head home and crawl into bed before your alarm was due to go off in a few hours, you set your phone back up with the speaker and pulled your notebook out again. If you were going to be forced into staying here to avoid speaking to him then you might as well be productive.

Chan slid in through the door and took a seat at the back of the room, you stared at him when he did but said nothing. It was a win in his book that you didn’t instantly kick him out when he came through the door. It was technically Stray Kids official practice room but between the two of you, he’d known it as your practice room for years. Memories of the two of you as trainees being the last people in the building were circling around his head, he thought back to meeting you for the first time and it looked something very much like this. Stumbling upon the room, wondering who was still here at 3am and hearing the music blaring out a speaker, finding you in the centre of it, sweaty and worn out but still had enough energy to smile and introduce yourself to him.

The guilt was creeping up from his chest and attempting to claw itself out as he sat and watched you. He lost count of how many times you consulted your notes, started and restarted the song at different parts, recorded what you were doing, tried to figure out placements. He knew what went into choreographing obviously but seeing you burnt out when you should’ve had this done weeks ago made his stomach clench. How many times had you had to do this? Felix had said this wasn’t the first time, how many times had you covered for him and pulled an all nighter just to get a dance finished so he could have more time on a song?

“What?” You asked, without realising he’d been staring at you.

His mouth opened and closed, words failed to find him. An apology didn’t feel like enough, how could he start an apology about this without acknowledging all the pressure you’d been taking for him.

“If you’re not planning on leaving you might as well come here.” You directed him to a space on the floor that your hoodie currently held. You kicked it to the wall, and moved him slightly into position. “Don’t move too much, I need to figure out if something works. Just move on the spot like you’re singing.”

He waited until you hit play and counted him in, he did exactly what you asked, moving slightly on the spot to give the impression of singing as you moved around him. You repeated this a few more times in different positions, clearly trying to figure out if it could work as a group. Chan waited for more instructions and followed your prompts as you moved him around the room and back again deciding against that.

“Does it normally take you this long?” He asked quietly as you crossed something out that you’d wrote earlier.

You shrugged. “It depends on the song or how I feel. Some stuff is quicker to figure out but the spacing and background move when someone is singing is harder. Or if it works whilst you’re singing. It just depends. Can you stand here?”

He nodded and moved to where you were pointing.

“I’m sorry.”

You glanced up at him.

“I didn’t realise how much pressure I put you under by giving you the track so late.”

You shrugged again. “It is what it is Chan, you get put under pressure by us and the company all the time. Giving me the track a few days late isn’t a big deal.”

He caught your arm as you stepped past him, “It is to me, especially when you’re here until 5am because of it.”

“Us being here until 5am is nothing new.”

“This is different.” He insisted.

You kept your eyes on his hand that was still wrapped around your arm, the skin was burning under it and your face was burning under his gaze.

“Chan I don’t care if you hand me a song on the day it’s due and I have to come up with a choreography on the spot. I can live with that, I can live with pulling an all nighter if it gives you more time and you need it. What I don’t want is for you to throw it in my face like it’s no big deal or that what I’m doing means nothing. I like what I do and I know I’m good at it, we both know it’s the main thing you brought me into the group for, I just want to be appreciated for what I do.”

“I do appreciate what you do. I could never stay here all night trying to figure out who dances in what bit and steps where and moves when. I’d go insane.”

You cracked a smile, “And that’s why you produce and I choreograph.”

He let go of your arm and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Are we good?”

“We’re good.” You mumbled into his chest. “And I’m sorry I called you a cunt.”

He laughed properly at that.

“It’s fine, just don’t say it again in front of the others. I don’t need them learning that one and accidentally dropping it in an interview. That’s the last thing I want to make an apology for.”

You both decided to call it a night then despite knowing you had a few hours before you needed to come back, Chan picked your bag up and slung it over one shoulder.

“You still need to make it up to the others as well, they really wanted to have dinner together.”

“I know I will.”

“Thank you.”

Chan decided to ring for a car to get you back to the dorms quicker. The quicker you got back then the quicker you were able to get into bed and sleep. You didn’t make it that far though, once you settled into the back of the car and tiredness hit you, it was all you could do to stumble into the dorms and collapse on the sofa.

That was how you were found by Felix anyway, who had woke up to his own alarm that he’d set the night before knowing you’d be in too late to be responsible getting the rest of them up. He smiled at the sight of the two of you draped over each other, knowing someone was definitely going to wake up with pins and needles. He settled though for taking a photo of the two of you (kept to himself though so he could use it for his own gain on another day) and did what you always did first and turned on the coffee machine, knowing the noise would wake you up and he wouldn’t have to. He’d save the embarrassment of finding the two of you snuggled up for a moment when he really needed it.

[strawberry-nugget]

Ahhh I do NOT know what this is other than depressed af Bakugo, who is trying to be a good boyfriend with a hint of fluff

It starts as something as innocent as forgetting to fold your laundry after a hard day of work. Although he never does that, he's too meticulous about the house chores even after a 12 hour shift. You don't yell at him and he doesn't yell at you. He has ordered take out before even getting home and he eats in silence, after offering you some of his pizza and you decline, hurt that the portion of food that you made for him will go to waste. He doesn't say anything else for the remaining twenty minutes he remains awake and you end up folding the laundry.

By the time you go to the bedroom he's fast asleep, blond hair covering his forehead and mouth open enough so he can breathe through it. you notice the band aid on his nose; another wound he didn't bother telling you about.

It's a silent, muffled goodnight that puts you to sleep and not his arms around your waist but it's okay, you’ve been more than used to it.

When apathy isn't something that's enjoyable or even barely tolerable when you're in a relationship, you overlook it.

You think of him more often than you see him and you see him all the time. 

He delivers flowers to your workplace as an atonement for giving you the cold shoulder last night with a note. 

‘Sorry for being so grumpy lately, date tonight at 8?’

Your coworkers definitely enthuse about it and you grin like a schoolgirl. You think that even if you get off at six and you barely have enough time to get ready you can make it. So you text him, frenzied and insanely happy that you can make it and he snaps a picture of him drinking his smoothie while sitting on a railing of a building. Then he tells you where you're going for the night so you can be there as he'd be coming right after work.

Or at least he was supposed to. 

So what? He doesn't show up on a date. Katsuki's a pro hero, in the top five, too, so you can forgive that one time, despite having to endure the looks of pity from the waiters at the restaurant he has booked, and despite paying the minimum order fee all by yourself. All while downing a bottle of wine, dressed in your best clothes, make up done so nicely, in such little time too.

You try not to cry, at least not in front of anyone, because it's one time and it's okay that he didn't even bother to cancel on you, he for sure must have been busy! 

But you don't find it in you to plan another date anytime soon, and you don't allow him to mention whatever happened that night when he gets home to you. He’s battered, he’s bloody and behind red eyes there's that sorry expression of a dog that’s trashed the whole roll of toilet paper. 

You dont yell, you don't fight. He runs a bath for himself and you wash his hair.

Though, you'd love to actually at least leave a sassy remark on what he did, you're scared that his response won't be up to your standards or liking and hurting yourself like this -yes, begging for an explanation to the happening is begging- is not something you plan on doing. 

Until it happens again. 

This time, it's worse, because he's supposed to meet you and your friends at the cinema, on a day patrol shouldn't take too long to end. On a day there's no new article about a monstrous villain destroying the city. And yes, you do refresh the news section on your phone every second, with the way he's been getting so beaten up on the daily.

But this time, it's okay, because he lets you know beforehand. 

10 minutes beforehand. 

Through text. 

And even if it infuriates your friends, you can live with it. It's fine, you tell yourself and your friends. It doesn't usually happen, and he actually made an effort to let you know so you don't have to wait on him. 

It's more than understandable, you tell your friends, because your boyfriend (if you could call him that still) is a pro hero, and you, nothing but a civilian. His lifestyle is far more important than yours. Which, you actually find funny in the moment, now that everyone's staring at you. 

But your friends do not find it funny, actually. They don't lecture you yet, if they did, you'd burst in tears, and you enjoy the movie as much as you can in their company and rheir company alone. 

They're all you have, at the end of the day. 

Katsuki doest really have an everyday life as a civilian. And while striving to become number one he's overworking himself 

There's also the time he shows up to your friend's art gallery opening with his hero costume -broken left gauntlet and grease and mud all over his hair and face- because 1) you've lectured him about never showing up and the impression he's left on your friends and 2) he really is trying to make an effort and well 3)he doesn't really care about an amazing public image.

Your friends hate him. 

You don't.

The annual hero ratings come around the corner and he's fallen one place on the chart. The two of you spend that night at his parents’ and some subtle comments that youre not sure from whom it is worded sparks a fight with his mother, she tells him to not visit her again if he doesn't fix his attitude. They end up fighting over the phone every single day.

He gets worse after, always towards himself, as if he's done all the bad in the world. He spends most of his day on patrol and in the gym, but he doest bulk anymore. He’s more than okay with you making him lunch for work, he’s not mindful of any of his habits for a while.

Every single day that passes he’s more unhappy. Every day is worse than the other.

You continue to wash his hair and do the laundry on days he comes home bleeding and you don't get mad when he just wants to stuff his face in pizza. You go to bed with him and never let him sleep alone.

“you're s’nice to me when you don't have to” he mutters as you're stroking his hair away from his forehead. Not one of you is focusing on the movie that's playing. He;s sprawled like a cat on your chest, breathing from his mouth like that night.

“Its just cause i want to”

“m sorry i stood you up on that date”

“no need to talk about it” you reassure him. And its like he gets mad when you place a kiss on his exposed forehead. Brows furrowed, eyes half lid in exhaustion.

You pay him no mind, averting your eyes to the screen on your right He’s been so frustrated, you just know he's going to want to pick a fight

“dumbass. you should have dumped me.”

“You want me to dump you?”

He shakes his head in your chest as a response, hands wrap even tighter around your waist. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then okay? and stop thinking you don't deserve to be happy because life is shitty right now. You're the one who told me. Remember?”

At that he hugs you impossibly close. Pebbled chest pressing on your stomach as he wiggles his hands to wrap your feet around his waist. Your hoodie is lifted, just above your belly so he can plant a kiss on your skin and slanted red eyes look into yours again, this time more determined.

He knows how life has been for you. Things keep happening to you one after another and he's been there to witness it. To hold you. Your relationship with your own mother is only a little worse than his own and now, for the first time he actually understands how it's like to have someone hold him through all that he's been going through. 

No one can understand him better than you do, no one can love him better than you do.

There's an end to his restless nights, as you're spending them wrapped in his arms, face squished between his pectoral muscles. And now it doesn't matter if you sleep for two, five or eight or twelve hours. You're always rested. He’s not grumpy in the morning. Your migraines are gone. His muscles aren't sore anymore.

 Katsuki never had a civilian life, but when he comes home to you it's the closest he can get to one.

(this is my first post in two years be nice)

[mitsua]

WAKE UP DAMN IT!

synopsis: on a scale from 1 to 100%, how difficult is it to wake them up? (1.08k)

warnings: contains SPOILERS from lesson 16, mentions of nightmares

lucifer

depends, but most of the times it's 1% since he's a light sleeper, he has to, so his brothers wouldn't burn the house down with any of their antics or so...

depends on the long working nights he pulls out for Diavolo's paperwork pushed on him. In this occasions he may become a 10% difficult to wake up.

his reaction may vary, since he's the one supposed to wake you and the rest of the brothers up, he'd be at first embarrased and surprised.

still, when he recognizes you, he relaxes for a brief moment and mutters a sleepy "thank you MC."

mammon

may be different from time to time.

the morning next to a horror special sleepover may lead to the both of your getting scared, so it's then a 3% difficult fully wake him up and a 10000% scary. why? Mammon would scream from your light touch on his shoulder to wake him and you'd scream because he did. It would go on like this for at least 2 more times in the same morning.

but when it had been a normal night or a casino one, he'd just whine at your attempts and he may have or have not tried more than once to pull you to bed and sleep again as if you were his sleeping pillow... so does it count as a 90% mostly?

leviathan

also depends as you can imagine.

when he, for some reason, does not watch anime or plays videogames 'till the alarm goes off, he may be a 1% difficult to wake. unlike Mammon, he'd get scared almost everytime. that you wake him. squeaking a little, he thanks and tells you he'll be ready in a moment.

although when he does sleep late, you'll find one of two sceneries; the most common of these being him still glued to the screen, headphones on, then you'll just have to take them off and he'll make a little sound surprised but won't budge further. the other one is him being fast asleep on his desk and the computer on, a bit of saliva on the corner of his lips threatening to fall.

those occasions it is recommendable to poke or shake just a little his shoulder and still you'll get a big reaction from him and that's it.

satan

i think he's kind of a heavy sleeper when he gets through the night reading. getting so engrossed on the story he even dreams with it and him being an active participant. then it'd be a 30% difficult to wake him.

your best shot to get him to open his eyes without being scared to dear life? scream from affar something that'd normally pick his interest. here are some examples:

"oh, Lucifer! did you just fall for that? i saw Satan make it! so his plan finally succeeded?!". now that it's a great one but you may have a more difficult time calming him down when you tell him that was a lie. "aww a little stray cat? sir what can I bring to you? oh? you want Satan to feed you? but he's asleep—" well he's not anymore and if it's true that a cat it's at the house's door expect to have a happy Satan for the rest of the day.

when he has a good night sleep, it's 1% difficult, normally he wouldn't miss any of their brothers or your shaking on his shoulder so that'd be enough.

asmodeus

to begin with, being the only one who has a more decent and planned sleep schedule, it's impressive how difficult it can be than his brothers. he's a 50% when sleeping 8 hours straight in the comfiest bed of the Devildom. this is because when he sees you, he starts whining and doing grabby hands to go to sleep with you now. oh, but if it is any of his brothers? "Asmo, you have to wake up, we have school—" "ok, going..."

but if he had a party night, it's a different story.

if he was not drunk and did a night routine at 5 a.m. to be awake at 6 or 7 a.m. it'd be a 20% difficult to get him, because he'd not be able to sleep quickly. so you'll end up hugging him to recharge him for the day. if he in fact, came drunk, it's a 60%, you'd find a semi-naked Asmo barely resting on the bed with make up all over the pastel-pink sheets. you better know if he had one of these night because Lucifer will not allow to bring him smelling like Demonus.

beelzebub

he normally has a good sleep because his work outs exhaust him after a big dinner plate he's a sleeping like a baby. for this he's 15% difficult to wake. light touches do nothing to him so you'd have to fully shake him to stir a reaction from him.

in the nights he has to go for a snack at 3 a.m. it decreases to a 7% because he could not stop thinking about going for another round of food. when he has a nightmare he's most likely to keep thinking about it for a complete day, so those days you'll find him awake by himself. ask him why has he been pacing out and looking really down with a snack on your hands.

belphegor

if he had a nightmare about his family in any way, from them dying, from him being trapped in the attic and fighting with Lucifer through the bars, to the day he killed you... he wouldn't be able to sleep again, so then it'll be a 2% difficult to wake. maybe he'd pout a little but it's his way to bring himself back to reality and see everyone's still alive and he's on his bed in his and Beel's room, so when you're not seeing, he sighs relaxed.

however, when he's having a good dream, it'd be 100% and might have to bring Beel to help you, wether it'd be waking him with his twins trust and playful tactics or carrying him around the house to get him to do something.

BONUS

the first time you're tasked to wake up Beelzebub, as you may have or not screamed when he turned to face you but still he did not open his eyes, you ran to get any other brother to help you.

[thesvnandthemooon]

Hi can I be secret anon...🩰 Been on wp👀 but how do you think Natasha would handle the post-partum of r. The aftermath of pregnancy, being mentally unstable, insecurities which is actually already present during the pregnancy itself but much worse this time. The times where r just cannot handle Niko's blue phase.

warning: this discusses body image issues, (postpartum) insecurities, weight gain, mental health

ohh another wattpad reader 👀 welcome!

best believe natasha would be the most supportive girlfriend (at least once she was committed lol), but especially during those postpartum trenches.

→ switched up the way i do these things a little because i think it might make it easier for me; i wasn’t happy with the previous style and this one is more similar to how i usually write. i also decided to switch to using present tense for these, as i do with my ‘normal’ fics

˙⋆ body issues ˙⋆

insecurities are hitting you hard. pregnancy changes the human body in so many ways, but the physical proof is the most tangible one. natasha catches you in front of the mirror more than once, poking your softened stomach and staring at stretch marks and looser skin. she knows the look in your eyes too well by now — that look of silent frustration, of disappointment, of unspoken unhappiness.

you aren’t used to this. it took you a while to get used to your growing baby bump, and now that it’s gone, you’re forced to get used to another change. she watches you try on a pair of jeans that used to fit you perfectly before the pregnancy. but now, you barely manage to get them halfway up your thighs.

“babe?”, natasha mumbles. you bite your lip, then peel off your jeans and throw them aside. “love.”

“what?”

“come here.”

you shake your head. you’ve been shying away from her touch for a while now. even during your pregnancy, it rarely was like this. but when insecurities flare up and combine with baby blues and exhaustion, the result can be overwhelming.

natasha, for once, has been forced to take life serious. no stupid jokes, no half-assed attempts at doing something. she needs to do this parenthood-thing right — and she wants to do it all right. every aspect. including taking care of her baby’s mom.

she walks up to you, slowly. you wrap your arms around your upper body. she wraps hers around you as well, shielding you from your own judgement. her lips press against your cheek, your neck, making their way down your body.

it’s been a while since you slept with each other, too, but that’s not what she’s trying to make up for. she just misses touching you, in any way she can get.

“i know it’s hard”, she starts, gently covering your stomach with her hands. you make an uncomfortable noise and almost push her away. “nuh-uh. wait.”

“nat, i don’t-“

“but i do.”

you look at her in the mirror. she raises her eyebrows, hands pointedly rubbing your stomach.

“you carried my son in there for nine months”, she says. “your body gave me niko. there’s nothing more beautiful.”

you swallow, giving her a defiant stare. natasha swiftly spins you around and starts caressing you all over, palms running over your sides and arms and thighs. her lips follow. no stretch mark is left out.

afterwards, she spends half an hour picking out an outfit with you that fits and makes you feel good. natasha’s an absolute expert in that field, obviously. she knows exactly what looks amazing on you (everything, in her eyes), and you leave your bedroom feeling at least a little better.

˙⋆ too tired to function ˙⋆

everyone knows that having a kid basically means not sleeping enough for the upcoming next years, but you didn’t think it’d be that hard.

you have a newborn who wakes up three times every night. you have to breastfeed. you’re exhausted from everything changing within a matter of days. plus, you have classes. you don’t want to drop out, so all you can do is take a few weeks off (the recommended 6-8 weeks) and then hope you’ll survive this lack of sleep.

you don’t know how you make it through this period, honestly, but natasha definitely does more than enough to help you. she creates a night schedule. she wakes up early to carry niko around campus, just so you can sleep in. but somehow, it still doesn’t help. you still pass out randomly during lunch, while watching tv (not like you have much time for that), during car rides. she starts skipping practice so she can take care of the baby while you nap, and even gets benched for a while.

still. doesn’t. help. even when nat’s the one doing the nighttime feedings, his crying still wakes you up. you’re walking around like a zombie. you barely have the energy or time to do anything for yourself. natasha starts doing it for you — like your skincare, which you neglect for a good week. she appears in the bedroom one evening, while you’re nursing, and sits down next to you with a bunch of products and a little bowl of water.

cue her washing your face. putting serum on your skin. applying chapstick. dabbing her fingers in moisturizer and patting it into your cheeks. you aren’t less tired by the time she’s done, but at least you feel less miserable.

at nights, you look exhausted even getting up to get niko from his crib. once nat clocks that, she starts doing it all for you. getting up, bringing niko over, unlatching your nursing bra and positioning the baby. it becomes a routine, and you don’t even have to open your eyes.

baby fusses. nat’s up. something tiny is latched onto your chest. she burps him, too, and only then goes back to sleep.

˙⋆ baby blues ˙⋆

postpartum hormones are a bitch, and you find out about that as well.

tears, constantly. over the most random things — niko outgrowing his first onesie, a cup of tea you forgot on the counter, some ad with a baby in it. the waterworks are constant, just as bad as during the height of your pregnancy mood swings, and natasha’s panicking. a joke that’d usually make you laugh ends up making the tears worse.

she tries her best, though. she lets you cry on her chest for hours if you need it, she still tries to find the right kind of humor that’ll make things better, she listens to whatever you have to say.

feeling too much isn’t the only issue, though. sometimes, you also feel too little. you feel empty, drained, unfit to be a mom and handle all of this.

it makes you feel guilty. you’ve got everything you could want, after all, so why are you this ungrateful? why do you not feel happy?

you’re scared of telling nat, but when you do, you suddenly feel better. she listens without judgement, she holds you, she shuts up for once. no stupid jokes, no humor used to cheer you up. she encourages you to eat, and sleep, and go on walks with her.

she knows what makes you happy, too. not much helps with baby blues, but there are a couple things that coax a smile out of you anyway. even if it’s just your favorite snack or a new necklace — it makes those few weeks easier for you.

˙⋆ the reality of parenthood ˙⋆

stitches? natasha gets a cooling pad and painkillers.

sore boobs? warm baths and gentle massages (she’s lying if she says she’s not profiting from those as well).

cramps? tea and heating pads.

you’re basically royalty. you did not only get the campus’s biggest fuckboy to commit, but she’s also worshipping the ground you walk on.

sex is definitely not in the cards for a while. your stitches need to heal, and so does the rest of you. the first time you try, you start crying. not because you don’t want to — it’s been two months, and you need her like a drug at this point —, but because everything is still fragile. the insecurities are still hitting hard and you’re simply overwhelmed.

natasha doesn’t question it. she kisses you, rolls off and holds you close all night.

intimacy in general takes a back seat. everything you talk about is baby-related. everything you do is baby-related. maybe you’ll talk about classes, or aching breasts, but that’s about it.

natasha’s solution? date nights. nothing too big or exhausting, just sweet and romantic enough to remind you that you aren’t only parents, but partners as well. she makes sure niko is fed and asleep by the time you’re done freshening up, then you order takeout and cuddle up on the couch. bonus points for clay face masks, candles, roses and a bottle of sparkling apple juice (because alcohol is still a no, obviously).

then, there’s the overstimulation. being stuck in your apartment almost constantly, with a crying little infant and a messy living room, always something to do — it becomes too much. you snap sometimes, and when you do, natasha quietly gets niko and leaves the apartment. she knows the telltale signs already, and whenever she notices you rubbing your temples or exhaling in that one specific way, she quietly leaves so you can breathe.

once you start going to classes again, different things make you struggle. breastfeeding in public makes you nervous, so natasha sits in front of you and acts like a human shield. she meets you every hour and a half, so you’re not as uncomfortable, until you’re so used to it that you don’t give a fuck anymore and whip out in a lecture hall full of 200 students.

˙⋆ the little things ˙⋆

buys you things that she knows will make you smile. flowers, decaf iced lattes, magazines, new blouses (with buttons for easier access).

keeps your hoodies in the dryer for a few extra minutes so they’ll be warm and nice.

sticky notes and risky snaps. romantic one liners and full on nudes. might seem unnecessary, but it makes you feel normal, and that’s good.

carries you around. from the bed to the couch, then later back to bed. too tired to shower? no problem, she’s got you. she’s helping you undress and washes your hair.

kisses your stretch marks because she means it. you get flustered — she doesn’t care. she’s kissing every last one until you feel good.

always checking in on you. asking if you’re okay, if you want to go for a walk. texts wanda or daisy so they can babysit while you can have some alone time together.

[ladysharmaa]

Wild Hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The air was still, quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of Evelyn’s breathing. She was just beginning to wake, her mind still caught between the remnants of a dream and the gentle touch threading through her hair.

Cool, feather-light fingers were running through her hair, tracing absentminded patterns against her scalp. She stirred slightly, sighing as she leaned into the touch, reluctant to leave the comfort of sleep just yet.

“Morning, darlin’.” a familiar, velvety voice drawled above her.

Evelyn’s lips curled into a sleepy smile before she even opened her eyes. “Mmm… Jasper?”

She finally blinked up at him, his golden eyes watching her with an unreadable expression, though his lips held the faintest ghost of a smile. His hand never stopped moving, fingertips brushing against her cheek before returning to her hair.

“You were mumblin’ in your sleep again,” he murmured. “Something about… peach pie?”

The demigod let out a soft laugh, reaching up to place her hand over his. “You’re making that up.”

Jasper chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that made her heart flutter. “Maybe, but I could listen to you talk in your sleep all day. It's cute. I like watchin’ you sleep.”

Evelyn playfully swatted at his arm, though her strength was nothing compared to his. “That’s creepy.” Eve teased, but the warmth in her gaze betrayed her words. "You're turning in Edweirdo. At least I know you are watching me sleep, poor Bella."

However, she knew what he meant. Unlike her, Jasper didn’t need rest, didn’t need to close his eyes and surrender to dreams. Instead, he spent the quiet hours of the night simply being there — watching over her, lost in his own thoughts while she lay curled against him, sometimes reading a book. Emmett tried many times to get him to play videogames with him, but he preferred being next to Evelyn. Hearing her heartbeat, soothing her when she started to have a nightmare.

“You’re too good to me,” she whispered, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “It’s unfair, really.”

His smile softened, and something tender flickered in his gaze. “I don’t think you realize just how much you do for me, Lyn.”

She tilted her head, waiting for him to continue, and he exhaled, though it wasn’t necessary. His hand cupped her cheek now, his thumb brushing over her lower lip with infinite care, as if she were something delicate, something precious.

“You make me feel human,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “You make all of this—” his other hand gestured vaguely to himself, “—seem less like a curse and more like a blessing.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened, her heart aching at the sincerity in his words. Without thinking, she lifted herself slightly and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “You’re not a curse, Jasper,” she murmured against his skin. “You never were. We have eternity together.”

Jasper let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment as if to absorb the warmth of her touch. When he opened them again, the love in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Darlin’,” he drawled, brushing his nose against hers, “you sure do know how to make a man weak.”

Evelyn only smiled, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer. “Good thing you’re the strongest man I know.”

He laughed softly, tucking her into his chest, and for a moment, the world was quiet again. Just the two of them tangled in soft sheets, whispering promises that stretched beyond lifetimes.

"Have you talked to Edward about yesterday?" Evelyn broke the silence. She didn't want to get up, but knew that there were urgent matters that needed their attention.

"Let's not talk about him." Jasper said tensely.

Evelyn stretched before slipping out of bed, Jasper’s hand lingering at her waist as if reluctant to let her go. “Come on, grumpy. Let’s see what chaos awaits downstairs.”

They made their way to the living room, where the rest of the Cullens were already gathered. The atmosphere was tense, though Emmett was the first to break the silence with a playful grin. “Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds. You two finally decided to grace us with your presence?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes as she flopped onto the couch beside Alice. “You’re just jealous Jasper likes me more.”

Emmett gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Eve! I thought we had something special.”

Jasper smirked, wrapping an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders. “Can’t compete with me, brother.”

Edward, leaning against the fireplace, cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. His gaze met Evelyn’s, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Evelyn… I wanted to apologize for what happened with Bella. I know it was reckless. The last thing I wanted was for you to also get hurt.”

Evelyn tilted her head, studying him before finally nodding. “You did what you thought was right. And this cut is nothing. It's already healing. I'm a demigod, remember?”

Emmett snorted. “Yeah, he's just saying that because Jasper is scary as fuck when it comes to Evie here."

"Language." Rosalie scolded.

Emmett's eyes widened, immediately turning to the woman with an apology on the tip of his tongue. The rest of the family laughed, lightening the mood a little. Jasper squeezed Evelyn’s hand, and she leaned into him, knowing that no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

Alice got up to sit on Lucas' lap, who had just arrived with Carlisle from hunting. Along the way, her eyes glazed over and the rest of the family waited patiently for her vision to end. "We can't go to school today. It's going to be too sunny."

"No!" Evelyn groaned dramatically, pretending to faint at Rosalie, who playfully pushed her off of her. Evelyn rolled her eyes in his direction. "Rude. What am I going to do without you guys to entertain me?"

Jasper watched his mate's theatrics with a smirk on his lips and complete adoration in his eyes.

"You're gonna have fun, Eve, I've seen it!" Alice informed, giggling as Eve made a pout. Jasper hoped she would never hold that against him, or she would have whatever she asked for in a matter of seconds without him being able to refuse her anything.

"Fine, I'll go to school. I'll take the opportunity to talk to Bella, try to understand what's going on in her head."

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Jasper ended up taking her to school, having to wear a cap and dark sunglasses. Still, to be careful, he left Eve a little earlier, making sure no one could see him.

Before she got out of the car, she turned to him shyly, "You look really good."

"Thank you, darlin'." he whispered, slowly approaching her, their faces getting closer and closer. The blonde's breath caught in her throat and her heart began to beat faster, "You also look beautiful."

Jasper turned his cap back so as not to hit the demigod's forehead, and at that moment, she felt like she was about to faint. Unable to hold it in any longer, she placed her hands on the vampire's cheeks and pulled him into a burning kiss.

When they pulled away, she placed a small kiss on the corner of Jasper's mouth, and opened the car door to get out with a small wave. The blond was completely in a trance, and if he were human he would be sure his heart would be beating so fast it could come out of his chest.

Evelyn didn't find Bella the whole morning. However, during lunch, as she walked to the tables outside, she saw Bella’s intense gaze locked on her. As soon as the blonde sat down, Bella walked to the table and sat down. The brunette leaned forward, as if she was telling a secret. “I need to talk to you.”

“Let me guess. About Edward?”

Bella nodded vigorously. “I saw him, Eve. He was across the parking lot, and then — he was there. He stopped the car with his bare hands! That’s not normal.”

Evelyn took a slow sip of her drink, buying herself time. “Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought.”

Bella frowned. “Evelyn, I know what I saw.”

Evelyn shrugged. “Maybe you saw what you think you saw.”

Bella groaned, frustration clear in her expression. “You know something. Don’t you?”

Evelyn gave a small, knowing smile. “Bella, sometimes things aren’t as simple as they seem.”

The human narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Bella huffed, but Evelyn could see the curiosity burning behind her eyes. This wasn’t over. Thankfully, they were joined by their friends, interrupting their conversation. Jessica sat on the table, enjoying the sun's rays while Angela sat next to Evelyn.

"The Cullens aren't coming?" Jessica asked.

"No." Evelyn said, even if she knew that her friend already knew the answer to that question.

"Why aren't they coming?" Bella asked curiously.

"Whenever the weather's nice, the Cullens disappear. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen yank them out for, like, hiking and camping and stuff. I tried that with my parents. Not even close. Eve sometimes goes with them."

"Why didn't you go today?"

"I don't like to go all the time, Bella, they deserve to spend time alone as a family. Sometimes I join them, other times I don't. It's not that deep." Evelyn made up an excuse.

"That's really interesting, but hear this!" Angela interrupted, clearly extremely happy with something. "I'm going to prom with Eric. I just asked him. I took control."

She hugged Bella happily while Evelyn said, "That's amazing, Angela. You two are so cute together!"

"Are you sure you have to fo out of town, Bella?" Angela asked with a pout.

"Oh yeah, it's a little family thing."

“We have to go shopping in Port Angeles after school,” Jessica said, her hand blocking the sun so she could look at her friends. “I need something new before all the good dresses are cleaned out.”

Evelyn laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m in. Are you also coming, Bella?"

"Sure." she mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she remained silent and let the others continue sharing their ideas of what dress they were thinking of wearing.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Later, as they wandered through racks of shimmering fabrics and elegant silhouettes in a Port Angeles store, the conversation turned a predictable turn. Angela nudged Evelyn with a knowing smirk. “So… Jasper is kind of insanely in love with you, huh?”

Jessica twirled a dress hanger between her fingers, sighing dramatically. “It’s honestly unfair how cute you two are together. Like, does he even look at anyone else when you’re around?”

Evelyn grinned, her fingers ghosting over a velvet gown. “He’s just… Jasper. He makes everything feel special.”

From outside the store, a group of boys was passing through when they saw them trying the dresses. They knocked on the window to cath the attention of the girls. One of them whistled. “Hey, ladies, need some help picking something out?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Ignore them.”

"That's disgusting." Bella, suddenly looking thoughtful, turned to Evelyn. “I think I’m gonna head to the bookstore.”

Evelyn grabbed her bag. “Wait, I’ll go with you. Meet you later at the restaurant.”

They ended up finding the library where Bella wanted to go, Evelyn looking at the books there while the brunette looked for the specific book that was supposedly very important. Eve was already getting tired of finding answers to the Swan girl's questions, and it didn't go unnoticed that the book she wanted to buy was about ancient legends.

When they finally left, the two wandered through unfamiliar streets, the restaurant nowhere in sight. The sky had darkened slightly, casting long shadows over the pavement. Bella frowned. “I think we’re lost.”

Before they could figure out where to go, the same boys from earlier appeared, smirking. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” one said. “Need a ride?”

Evelyn stepped protectively in front of Bella, her jaw tightening. “We’re fine, thanks.”

Another chuckled, stepping closer. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Bella gripped Evelyn’s arm, whispering, “We need to go. Now.”

The tallest boy took another step forward, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You sure? Seems like you’re a little lost.”

Evelyn exhaled sharply, keeping her voice steady. “I said we’re fine.”

As they turned to walk away, the boys exchanged glances before following. The sound of footsteps behind them sent a chill down Evelyn’s spine. Her grip on Bella tightened. “Just keep walking,” she muttered.

But deep down, she knew they wouldn’t be left alone so easily.

As they turned to walk away, one of the boys reached out and grabbed Evelyn’s wrist. Instinct kicked in. With a sharp twist, she yanked her arm free and shoved him back with enough force to make him stumble.

The air shifted. The playful sneers turned to something darker.

“Feisty one, huh?” another boy muttered before lunging at her.

Evelyn barely had time to shove Bella aside before the fight erupted. One swung at her, but she ducked, delivering a swift kick to his knee. He collapsed with a curse, and she turned just in time to block another attack. Her demigod strength sent the second boy tumbling backward, but there were too many of them.

“Bella, run!” Evelyn shouted, stopping one of the man from grabbing Bella's arm. The demigod pushed her towards the alleyway. “Go!”

Bella hesitated, eyes wide with panic. “I can’t—”

“Now!” Evelyn barked, dodging another punch. Bella turned and sprinted into the night. "Get help!"

A rough hand tangled in Evelyn’s shirt, yanking her back. She spun, throwing an elbow into the attacker’s gut. The fabric of her shirt ripped as another boy grabbed at her, and she growled, slamming her fist into his jaw.

Breathing hard, she backed up, readying herself for another wave—when the roar of an engine split the night.

Two cars screeched to a stop, their headlights illuminating the scene. The doors flew open. Edward and Jasper.

A low growl rumbled from Jasper’s chest, his golden eyes dark with fury as he took in the sight of Evelyn standing amidst the gang of men, her shirt torn, her fists clenched.

Her hair was messy, but other than that she was brimming with confidence and anger at the behavior of men who couldn't take no for an answer. But seeing his mate with her bra visible and knuckles bruised from the force of her punches made the vampire see red. His protective side yearned to kill those humans slowly and watch them suffer.

"Edward, Bella is somewhere over there. Go get her." Evelyn warned him, watching as he immediately ran to the girl. Eve couldn't hear them, but she could see Edward leading the brunette to his car and driving off, knowing the couple could handle the situation.

Jasper locked eyes with the closest man still standing. His posture was tense, all his muscles contracting in anger. He placed himself protectively in front of Evelyn, not allowing any more danger to come to her. First, they would have to go through him. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”

The air seemed to vibrate as Jasper took a single step forward, predatory, lethal. Fear rippled through the group, their earlier bravado crumbling as they took an unconscious step back.

"Wathever, this isn't worth it for this crazy bitch."

Evelyn closed her eyes with a sigh, knowing that this was now the tip of the iceberg for Jasper. Evelyn grabbed his arm to stop him from moving forward, feeling his muscles relax ever so slightly at her touch.

The vampire looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze softening at her apprehensive look. "Wait for me in the car. I promise I won't lose control."

Obviously, Evelyn didn't do that but stayed behind him in case she needed to intervene. With controlled but precise force, Jasper drove his fist into the nearest man’s stomach. The man gasped, crumpling to the pavement, groaning in pain. His friends scrambled to pick him up, their fear thick in the air.

“That’s mercy,” Jasper said darkly, his Southern drawl dripping with menace. “You don’t deserve it. Do this again, and I will know. I will kill you.”

Evelyn watched hesitantly as Jasper turned back to her, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” His voice was softer now, but his eyes still burned with barely restrained rage.

“I’m fine, Jasper,” Evelyn murmured, placing a hand on his chest. “It’s over.”

He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “They touched you.” His fists were still clenched. “They hurt you.”

“I handled it, I trained my all life to fight monsters. I can handle drunk men.” she reassured him gently. “And then you showed up.”

Jasper’s jaw tightened, his gaze scanning her for any injuries. “You shouldn’t have had to handle it alone.”

Evelyn sighed, stepping closer and resting her forehead against his. He was shaking, Evelyn didn't even know If that was possible. Maybe she was the one shaking. “I’m okay. Bella’s okay. That’s what matters.”

Jasper exhaled, finally allowing some of the tension to leave his body. “Bella is a magnet for danger. Please, stop hanging out with her alone.”

She smiled softly. “Sure.”

Jasper pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before leading her back to the car. “Let’s go home. If I wasn't immortal I would have died by heart attack by now.”

[a-shade-of-blue]

Hi everyone! I want to spotlight here a few palestinian gofundme campaigns with low funds. I've messaged and been in regular contact with all of them, and I appreciate any support you can give them.

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Mohammed & his 5 siblings (@ahmed0khalil)

Mohammed is only 19 years old, but the fate of his family's survival now rests on his shoulders as he fundraise to evacuate his family of 8 to safety. He has 5 siblings: Fathi (23), Aya (21), Anas (15), Abdullah (11) and Ahmed (6). Fathi is blind and suffering from coronary artery disease; eleven-year-old Abdullah is autistic and does not understand what is happening; and Ahmed is only 6 years old, a small child who had barely started kindergarten when this current genocide happened. Now, instead of asking questions about how the world works, Ahmed is asking his brother if they will survive, or if they will just become "a number that appears on the TV screen in the evening."

These children have witnessed no fewer than 6 massacres, they have seen people being blown to pieces, they have lost friends to the bombings, they have seen people bleeding to death around them while they couldn't even call the ambulance because there was no connection. Mohammed was once so seriously injured in a bombing that he couldn't walk, but had to lie bleeding on the ground for 2 hours before help came.

These are children who just want to survive. What little food there is in Gaza is very expensive, the water is polluted, and there are all kinds of infectious diseases, and that is on top of all the bombings they have to face. They are just children, please help them out.

This campaign has been shared by 90-ghost.

Only €2,057 raised of €50,000 target! (4.1% of target)

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Mahmoud's 17 family members (@mahmoufamilia)

Mahmoud has 17 family members trapped in Gaza right now, including no fewer than 5 children. The house his family was staying at was bombed while they were sleeping inside it, and Mahmoud almost lost his entire family that night. Several relatives were killed in that bombing, including a baby who were not even one month old yet. His other family members sustained serious injury from the bombing, and the family exhausted every means to get Mahmoud's sister Tasnim and her 6-month-old baby out of Gaza as they had the most severe injuries.

However, the rest of Mahmoud's 17 family members are still trapped in Gaza right now, including Tasnim's 2-year-old daughter, who suffered from first degree burns from the bombing. They have narrowly escaped death no fewer than 5 times now, and have woken up to dead bodies next to them when the IOF dropped bombs on the tent next to where they were staying.

Mahmoud’s campaign is vetted by association. Mahmoud is @hazempalestine's friend, see post here for proof. @hazempalestine is vetted by @/el-shab-hussein and is listed as #281 on the verified fundraiser list by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi.

Only $426 CAD raised of $80,000 target! (0.5% of target)

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Ahmed's 12 Family Members (@ahmedpalestine)

Ahmed is from Gaza but he is in Belgium right now. He has 12 family members (including 6 children!) trapped in Gaza and he is trying to evacuate them. His family was in Al-Mawasi when Israel dropped the 2000 pound bombs on tents housing displaced families, causing 20 tents to disintegrate, killing at least 40 people and injuring more than 60, and leaving craters at least 9-meters deep.

Ahmed could not contact with his family when he woke up to the news of the bombing, and I can't imagine how scared and worried he must have been, not knowing if his family had survived or not. He told me that he managed to get in touch with his family eventually, and that they are alive, they are alive. They originally moved to Al-Mawasi because Israel designated it as a 'safe zone', yet Israel still bombed the displaced families staying there. Where are they supposed to go now? There is no safe place in Gaza, and they have 6 children with them...

Ahmed's campaign has been promoted by Bilal-Salah0. Bilal's campaign is listed as #132 on the verified fundraiser spreadsheet vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi. Also vetted by association. Ahmed is a friend of @/hazempalestine (#281 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi.). See post here.

Only €3,144 raised of €55,000 target! (5.7% of target)

I have been messaging with all of them and they are really lovely people. Please share/reblog and donate if you are able to! You don't have to donate a lot if you can't, every bit helps!!

[dilfismz]

Hi! I’d like to request a Cho Sangwoo x Reader story where the reader is Sangwoo’s ex-fiancée/girlfriend. They broke up because the reader, who was in medical school at the time, couldn’t tolerate Sangwoo’s constant lying about his debts. Things got even worse when people harassed or attacked the reader, trying to find out Sangwoo’s whereabouts after he disappeared for days. Eventually, he showed up at her apartment, leading to their breakup.

Fast forward 8–10 years after the Squid Game, let’s say Gi-hun, Sangwoo, and Sae-byeok won and decided to split the money. Sangwoo brings his mom to the hospital for a doctor’s appointment and unexpectedly runs into the reader, who is now a doctor. However, the reader has been hiding a deep secret—they had a child with Sangwoo.

Feel free to continue the story however you like! Thank you so much!

Summary: The request. Lovers to strangers to lovers? Angsty...

A/N:...I may have gone a wee bit crazy though. This is so self-indulgent as I am currently a nursing student.

The scent of antiseptic and the constant hum of fluorescent lights were a familiar backdrop to your life. As a third-year medical student, you spent most of your waking hours in the hospital or hunched over textbooks, trying to cram for exams that never seemed to end. It wasn’t the life you had imagined when first entering medical school. But here you were, juggling the intense pressure of studies with a relationship that was beginning to feel increasingly strained.

Your fiancé, Cho Sangwoo, had once felt like the center of the world—his smile, his humor, the way he’d promise that everything was going to be okay. When you’d gotten engaged two years ago, it was meant to be the beginning of a future full of possibility. You had thought he was the one, your partner, someone who would help you navigate the challenges of your medical career. But somewhere along the way, the dynamic between you began to shift.

You weren’t blind to the signs. Sangwoo had always been a bit secretive, but you had chalked it up to his independent nature. It was only after their engagement that the truth began to surface.

There were the subtle things at first—he would mention something about “taking care of business” in a vague way whenever you asked about his day. There were late-night phone calls that he always took in another room, quick and hushed conversations you couldn’t make sense of. When you asked him about it, he’d smile that disarming smile and reassure you that everything was fine.

But everything wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.

As you buried yourself in textbooks, trying to memorize anatomy and pharmacology, the stress of medical school took its toll. It was overwhelming, to say the least. Every moment you weren't in class or studying, you’d try to squeeze in time with Sangwoo, but even those moments felt off. He’d show up late for dinner, or sometimes he wouldn’t show up at all. When confronting him, he would offer flimsy excuses about work or personal matters he didn’t want to get into.

Then, there was the money.

You were in the middle of a grueling exam week, stress gnawing at you like a constant ache in the back of your mind. Barely having time to eat or sleep, and Sangwoo’s recent behavior only added to the growing tension in life. He hadn't been seen in two days, not a single text, not a call. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, but the silence felt different this time. It felt like something was off in a way you couldn’t ignore anymore.

Finally, as if summoned by your growing anxiety, Sangwoo walked through the door late at night. You were sitting on the couch, textbook spread out before you but hardly absorbed in the material. You were too tired, too distracted by the constant, gnawing feeling in your chest.

“You’re late,” you remark, glancing up. Your voice was tight, clipped.

Sangwoo paused in the doorway, his usual confident smile nowhere in sight. “I know, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t speak right away, eyes scanning him with suspicion. There was something about his appearance that wasn’t right—his posture was off, his clothes a bit too rumpled, like he’d been on the move for longer than he’d let on. It felt like he was hiding something, but you didn’t know what. Your stomach tightened.

“What’s going on, Sangwoo? You’ve been distant lately. I’ve tried calling, texting… you’ve been disappearing for days. And then, there’s the money.”

He stiffened at the mention of it, his face hardening into an unreadable mask.

“What do you mean, money?” he asked, though his voice had a slight edge to it.

“I found the credit card statements,” you said, voice shaking. “And the loan letters. You’re lying to me about something, and I can’t pretend I don’t see it anymore.”

His gaze flickered away, and for a moment, it looked like he might walk out. But instead, he crossed the room and sat down next to her, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“I didn’t want you to worry about it,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been handling some things. Financial stuff… complicated stuff. I didn’t want to drag you into it, okay? I swear, I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just didn’t want you to feel… burdened.”

But that’s exactly what it felt like. A burden. You didn’t want to be naive anymore, didn’t want to be dragged deeper into whatever financial mess he was tangled up in. You had enough on your plate with school—you couldn’t afford to carry his problems too.

“You think I don’t feel burdened?” you countered, your voice rising slightly. “I’m in medical school, Sangwoo! I barely have time to breathe, and now I’m supposed to take on your debt, your lies—whatever it is you’re hiding from me?”

Sangwoo looked pained, his face a mixture of guilt and frustration. “I’m trying to fix it, okay? I’m trying to fix everything. I don’t want you to leave me.”

Your heart ached at the desperation in his voice, but the truth was, it wasn’t enough. The trust was broken, and the weight of his secrets had begun to sink into your bones.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you whispered, eyes avoiding his. “I don’t know if I can be with someone who can’t be honest with me. Who keeps lying, who keeps disappearing… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Sangwoo didn’t say anything at first, but the silence between them grew unbearable. You could see the hurt in his eyes, but it didn’t change the fact that the cracks in the relationship had grown too deep to ignore.

“I need space,” you say your voice breaking as you stand up, pacing across the room. “I don’t think I can go on like this. I need to focus on my future, Sangwoo. I can’t keep waiting for you to fix yours.”

He didn’t move, just watched, his face a mask of hurt and confusion. You could see the wheels turning in his head, the helplessness creeping in as he realized you weren't going to back down.

“I love you,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

But it wasn’t enough anymore. The lies had eroded everything. You had tried to look past them for too long. The cold truth settled in your chest, a painful realization that love alone wasn’t enough to hold everything together.

“I’m sorry, Sangwoo,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I can’t.”

Present Day—The Hospital

Eight months after their breakup, you had thrown yourself into your studies. It wasn’t just a distraction; it was survival. You had buried the pain beneath the weight of textbooks, medical journals, and clinical rotations. In the chaos of medical school, you had found a kind of focus that kept you from thinking about what had happened with Sangwoo.

And then, there he was.

You had just finished your morning rounds when you stepped into the hallway, clipboard in hand, ready to grab a quick cup of coffee from the lobby before diving back into work. But the moment you saw him, your stomach dropped. There he was—Cho Sangwoo—standing in front of the nurse’s station, his back to you as he spoke to one of the receptionists. The woman standing beside him was older, frailer than you remembered. It must have been his mother.

Sangwoo hadn’t noticed yet, and you stood rooted to the spot, heart racing. You could feel the weight of years of history between them—the unfinished conversations, the unhealed wounds.

And then, to your horror, his gaze shifted, and his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

“[Y/N]?” His voice was hesitant, the way it had been the last time he’d spoken your name. It felt like a ghost from the past.

Your body locked in place, heart pounding as though trying to escape your chest. You hadn’t expected this. No- you never expected to see him again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after how he had vanished from your life, how you had been forced to piece yourself back together.

Your hands instinctively tightened around the clipboard, knuckles turning white. Your mind was flooded with a thousand emotions, none of them good. The memories of the lies. The nights spent awake, wondering where he was. The way his promises had felt like a cruel joke. The unanswered texts. The debts that piled up in the corners of your lives.

Sangwoo’s appearance didn’t feel like fate. It felt like an assault. A disruption of the fragile peace you had worked so hard to cultivate.

Your gaze flickered to his face. He looked the same. His features had matured, sharpened by the years, but his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—still held the same familiar intensity that both haunted and captivated you in equal measure.

There was a moment of silence, a stretch of seconds that felt like hours. You could see the hesitation in his posture, the awkwardness of seeing someone you once shared everything with, now reduced to a stranger.

“Y-You…” His voice faltered, then regained its strength. “It’s really you.”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the layers of emotions locked tight behind a wall that was carefully constructed over the years. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the tremble in your hands.

“Yes,” you reply flatly, voice a little hoarser than intended. There was no warmth. No softness. Just the cold truth of the past, wrapped tightly in those two syllables. “It’s me.”

Sangwoo’s face twitched, a flicker of regret flashing across his features before he masked it, replacing it with a strained smile. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but hesitated.

And then, the elderly woman beside him, who had been quiet up until now, spoke.

“Are you two…” Her voice was slow, soft, a little raspy, but there was an undeniable kindness to it. “Were you two friends, dear?”

Sangwoo glanced at his mother quickly, his gaze flickering back to you. The shift in his demeanor was almost imperceptible—an instinctive protectiveness, maybe? As if trying to shield his mother from the discomfort of the situation.

“No, Mom,” he said gently, his voice oddly tender when he spoke to her. “We were… engaged. A long time ago. This is Y/N, remember?”

The word engaged echoed in the air, hanging there between them. You hadn’t realized how much it would sting to hear it again. To be reminded of the promise you had made to each other, a promise he had broken.

You felt your chest tighten but fought against the rush of emotion threatening to rise. You weren't that young, naïve girl anymore. The woman who had once believed in him, who had once imagined a future with him. That person was gone. She had to be.

“Oh,” his mother murmured, her gaze moving between you and Sangwoo with a faint glimmer of recognition. “It’s so good to see you again, dear. Sangwoo still talks about you often… about how happy he was. You were always so good to him.”

You glanced down, almost reflexively, avoiding the kindness in the woman’s words. The memories came rushing back again—memories of moments when your heart had been full of hope. But those moments had been built on lies, built on a foundation that had crumbled beneath your feet the moment you uncovered the truth.

“Thank you,” you said softly, though the words felt hollow, more for the woman than for yourself. She had meant well. She had always meant well. But she had no idea what had really been going on behind the scenes.

Sangwoo’s mother didn’t seem to notice the tension in the air. She smiled, a little sadly, and reached out to you with a hand that trembled slightly. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s been so many years, hasn’t it? I’m sure you’ve grown into someone amazing.”

You forced a tight smile, but the words caught in your throat. You have no idea was all you wanted to say. You have no idea what we went through. You have no idea what I went through. How I lost myself, how I thought I was going crazy, trying to find out where your son had gone, where his debts had gone, and why he was lying to me. How I cried, how I begged, for him to tell me the truth.

But you didn’t say any of that. You just nodded.

“Thank you,” you repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched again, more unbearable this time, and you found yourself wanting to escape—to run, to get away from this awkward moment, from these memories you had fought so hard to bury. But your feet felt glued to the ground as if your body were betraying you by refusing to move.

And then, Sangwoo spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant.

“I know this is… unexpected,” he said, his eyes finally softening with something that might have been regret, might have been sorrow. “I know we… left things unresolved. But I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I was… dealing with things, things I couldn’t tell you at the time. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you more than I can ever apologize for, but—”

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. You didn’t need to hear it. The apology. The excuses. The attempts to explain away the pain, to make everything okay again. Nothing could make it better. Nothing could take away the years of anxiety, the sleepless nights, the feeling of being betrayed by someone you had trusted with everything.

“You don’t have to say it,” you said, your voice cold, cutting through the warmth he was trying to offer. You took a step back, creating some space, though it felt more like an emotional distance than a physical one. “I know what happened. And I’ve moved on from it.”

Sangwoo didn’t reply immediately. He only stood there, his face unreadable, the sorrow in his eyes now fully visible. And for a moment, you felt something—a flicker of old emotion you thought had long been buried—aching beneath the surface. But you buried it again. You buried it deep.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I should have done better. For both of us.”

But it wasn’t enough. It never would be.

With one last glance at his mother, who still looked at you with such hope and kindness, you forced a tight smile, though it felt like a lie. You didn’t look back at Sangwoo.

“I have to go,” you said, your voice even. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get back to work.”

And without another word, you turned, walking down the hallway with your heart racing in your chest.

Sangwoo stood there, his face still locked in that mixture of guilt and longing, watching your retreating form, as though waiting for something—an answer, a chance, something to heal the wound that still lingered between them.

But for you, there was nothing left to heal. Only the past. And the secret you had kept buried deep inside you for all these years.

You had just finished your last checkup of the day, the cold winter air biting at your face as you enter the parking lot, ready to go home.

You had just unlocked your car when you heard his voice from behind.

“Wait.”

You turned, clutching your bag tighter. Sangwoo stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. “I just… I didn’t want to let you leave without talking,” he said, his tone hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ve done enough talking for one day.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking a cautious step forward. “But it feels like we didn’t say the right things.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your car keys. The years apart had built walls between you, but the way he looked at you—like he still cared, still wanted to understand—made you pause.

“There’s a diner a couple blocks away,” you said finally. “If you’re serious about talking, we can do it there.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face. “Alright,” he said.

The diner was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the space as you slid into a booth by the window.

You ordered tea, and Sangwoo asked for black coffee. For a few moments, silence stretched between you as you both settled in.

“This feels weird, doesn’t it?” he said, breaking the tension with a wry smile.

You chuckled softly, stirring sugar into the tea. “A little.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d agree to this,” he admitted.

“Neither was I.” You glanced at him over your mug. “But here we are.”

Sangwoo leaned back, studying you. “You seem… different. In a good way. More confident, I guess?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying I wasn’t confident before?”

“No!” he said quickly, then laughed at himself. “I just mean… you seem more sure of yourself now. Like you know exactly who you are.”

“Life does that to you,” you said, your voice soft.

You fall into a rhythm as you talk, the conversation flowing more easily than either of you had expected. You reminisced about old times, sharing stories and teasing each other like you used to.

“You remember that time you tried to teach me to drive a stickshift?” Sangwoo asked, grinning.

You groaned, covering your face. “Don’t remind me. You crashed into a mailbox!”

“And you laughed so hard you cried,” he added, his laughter infectious.

You both dissolved into laughter, the years of distance melting away for a moment.

However, as the night went on, the conversation turned more serious. Sangwoo shared bits and pieces about his life after you parted ways—the mistakes he’d made, the lessons he’d learned.

“I was angry back then,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on his coffee cup. “At myself, at the world… at you.”

You didn’t flinch, though his words stung. “I know. And I’m sorry for how things ended. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He looked up at her, his expression earnest. “I know that now. Back then, I didn’t want to see it. I thought if I blamed you, it would hurt less.”

“And did it?” you asked gently.

He shook his head. “No. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through.”

You reached across the table, fingers brushing his briefly before pulling back. “We both made mistakes, Sangwoo. But we’ve grown since then.”

Just as you were settling into a comfortable silence, your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced at the screen, and your face softened as you picked it up.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” you said, holding up a finger. “Won’t be long.”

Sangwoo nodded, but he couldn’t help watching as you answered the call.

“Hey, honey,” you said, voice warm and affectionate.

Sangwoo's chest tightened. He dropped his gaze to his coffee, his stomach churning. Of course, she’d moved on. Why wouldn’t she? It had been years.

“I miss you too,” you continued, tone light and teasing. “How was your day? Did you eat?”

Sangwoo’s grip on his mug tightened, a sinking feeling taking hold. He’d been foolish to think there was still something between you.

“Alright, I’ll be home soon,” you said, your voice soft. “I love you.”

You ended the call and set the phone down, only to find Sangwoo staring, his expression carefully blank.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Sounds like you’ve got someone waiting for you. I don’t want to keep you.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Sangwoo…”

“It’s fine,” he said, cutting you off. “I’m happy for you. Really. You deserve to be happy.”

Realization dawned on your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong.”

He frowned, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t my husband,” you said, tone laced with amusement.

He blinked. “It wasn’t?”

You shook your head, your smile softening. “That was my son.”

The words hung in the air, and Sangwoo’s heart stopped. “Your… son?”

“Yes,” you said, voice steady. “Our son.”

His world tilted, the weight of the words crashing over him. He stared at you, his mind racing.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, expression tender. “I found out I was pregnant not long after you left. I tried to tell you, but… well, things were complicated.”

Sangwoo leaned back, his hands trembling slightly. “Why didn’t you try harder?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me,” you admitted. “And by the time I worked up the courage, you were gone.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to process everything. “What’s his name?”

“Eunwoo,” you said softly. “He’s five now. Smart, stubborn, and so full of energy. He reminds me of you in so many ways.”

Sangwoo swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside him—shock, guilt, and a flicker of hope.

“You’re not… with anyone?” he asked hesitantly.

You shook your head. “No. It’s just been me and Eunwoo.”

Relief flooded through him, followed by determination. “I want to meet him,” he said firmly. “Please, Y/N. Let me meet him.”

You studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. But if you want to be in his life, you have to prove it. No running, no disappearing.”

“I won’t,” Sangwoo said, his voice filled with conviction. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

For the first time in years, he felt like he had a purpose—a reason to stay, to fight, to rebuild what they’d lost.

[mrchiipchrome]

Talkin' 'Bout My Girl

W.C. - 6.3 k

Warnings: throwing up ig?

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

Lucy’s calling, answer me, Lucy’s answer me. 

Your phone blasts the annoying ringtone Lucy had created the latest time you’d met her, she’d insisted on having a unique one so that you’d answer all her calls. Spoiler alert: you didn’t answer all her calls.

Groaning loudly as your sleep is interrupted by the older woman calling you, she obviously didn’t think about the fact that you were in a totally different time zone and therefore calling you at 7 in the morning wasn’t a good idea.

“Fucking hell Luce, why’re you calling me at 7 in the fucking morning?” You can hear the way she laughs at your grumpy tone and how she sucks in a breath after a second or two. Well at least one of you was enjoying yourselves.

“Ou, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, did the grumpy wittle baby not get her 8 hours of sleep tonight?” She teases through the phone, the rustling of your sheets as you sit up echoing through the room that’s practically empty, like a hollowed out coconut.

“Actually, since you woke me up at 7, I did in fact barely even get 4 hours since Em dragged me away to a party in Connecticut, got wasted and then made me drive us both home.” This just makes the older woman laugh even more. For some reason, you thought that she’d be a bit more responsible and tell you off for going to a party, but she didn’t.

“Well that’s good then, Em is finally making you go through college the correct way, by going to parties.” You groan loudly as you stretch out the tightness in your limbs, the headache that appears soon goes away just as quickly. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you stand up from the bed, dragging your hand over your face before slapping yourself a few times to really wake up.

“Yeah, the proper college experience or something like that.” Lucy hums at your statement, her usually thoughtless brain quickly reforming to its usual state. 

“Mhm, well I’ll call tonight then, don’t sleep too late.” You say goodbye to the defender quickly before she hangs up the phone, venturing into the kitchen to pull open the door of the fridge, substituting a warm cup of bitter coffee for an energy drink.

“You’re going to be my best friend the coming four years, aren't you?” You look at the ice cold can in your hand as you speak, smiling sarcastically as you pop the tab open and take a swig, the weird aftertaste of pure caffeine leaving a streak down your tongue.

“Fucking hell, why do I not have anything at home?” As you look into the empty pantry, you suddenly understand why you should’ve taken Em’s advice earlier in the week, ‘fill your kitchen up like you have a whole family to feed’. Apparently a whole family equaled a drunk Em.

Peeking into the living room, you immediately see Em fast asleep on the couch, half her body hanging off the small piece of furniture like she was some drunk dad in a movie. Her mouth is wide open and the snores escaping from between her lips are just brutal.

Her party clothes from the night before are still donning her body, the dress barely staying intact after a night of tossing and turning to find a comfortable fit on the uncomfortable couch. But at least she’s not throwing up in the bathroom, so that's a plus.

You sigh, the quiet patting of your bare feet hitting the floor reaching your ears, fingers wrapping around the discarded blanket laying on the floor beside her on the floor and pulling it up to cover her body. She shifts underneath it, mumbling incoherently at you.

“Thanks mom.” You giggle at her sleepy presumption and she grumbles before turning her back to you like a moody teenager.

“Not your mum Em, but no problem anyway.” Walking back to the kitchen, you quickly find your phone before going to look for your wallet in your room, the sleek black leather laying on the floor beneath your mattress.

“Okay, just got to swing by the kitchen again then I’m off.” You mumble to yourself, patting your sleep shorts to see that you had everything you needed with you. The old Arsenal shorts from your time in the academy and the brief time you’d spent in the first team were the first things you’d packed for your move to America.

The comfort of home you supposed.

The simple t-shirt you had on was a Harvard one you’d gotten practically the first day on campus, the small ‘sports’ being printed just beneath the massive lettering of Harvard across your chest. It’s still warm enough outside to not need a jacket, you think to yourself, the sun shining brightly in the sky.

Picking up your can when you pass by the kitchen, you quickly make your way towards the door, finding the keys to your car hanging on the small hook meant for jackets. The metal ring you put them on clinks as you pull your keys off the hook, pulling your shoes over your bare feet before you turn the lock with a satisfying click, unlocking the door before disappearing out of it. Your key turns in the lock as you close the door, effectively securing Em inside the apartment.

The nice old lady living in the flat beside your own walks out of her door at the same time you do yours, her kind smile immediately filling you with a comforting warmth, her grandmotherly energy enveloping you fully, almost transforming you back into that little kid who would sit and wait for your gran to read a bedtime story.

“Hello dear, what are you doing up so early?” Her southern accent makes her words almost unintelligible, but you understand them either way, nothing was worse than drunk Em trying to speak. The large Newfoundland dog wagging his tail beside her yaps excitedly as he notices you, his entire body wiggling.

 “Oh I’m off to the bakery to get some pastries, Em got really drunk at a party yesterday and I don’t have anything for breakfast, so bread and pastries it is.” She looks amusedly at you, despite only having been neighbours for about two or so weeks, it was like the older woman had seen both you and Em grow up the entirety of your lives.

“Yeah that does sound like Em, don’it.” You laugh along with her, walking closer to pet Bubba who jumped at you as soon as you were close enough for him. “Bubba, no, you know we don’t jump on people.”

Laughing at the gentle giant, your hands soon tangle in his soft fur, giving him a bunch of kisses. 

“Oh Mrs. Peters, you know it’s his fault that he gets so excited, he’s just a little baby.” She rolls her eyes fondly at you and her dog, a simple tug of his leash making the fluffy dog go back to his owner. Moving towards the stairs you quickly turn back to ask her;

“Mrs. Peters, do you want anything from the bakery?”  She smiles but shakes her head, signaling that she doesn't want anything, before she enters the elevator and disappears from your line of sight.

You hum the tune to the song playing in your headphones as you walk down the stairs quickly, arms nearly tied to your body as you make your way down to the bottom floor of the building. The last step is one you jump over, walking over to the door that opens almost automatically and exiting the building completely.

The rays of the brightly shining sun hit your face as soon as you step out into the warm weather, Frank Ocean’s soft voice floating through your headphones as you walk, the wind blowing onto your exposed arms. 

It wasn’t often that people would just walk through the neighbourhood just to appreciate the scenery, to appreciate the nature and the small things that often seemed unimportant when living in such a fast tracked life as you did.

But you couldn’t just ignore the beauty in the simple things, the beauty in the small flowers growing along the road, the beauty in the gravel crunching under your feet as you walked, the warmth of the sun against your skin and the cooling effect of the wind.

It was all so beautiful, the calm and simple beauty.

You could find beauty in everything you saw, if you knew where to look for it, the soft smile on the mother’s face as she watched her toddler climb on the structure, the bird chirping as you pass it by, the old man sitting on a park bench. 

The world wasn’t as bad as people thought it was, they just hadn’t looked at it the right way.

The chime of the bell hanging above the door takes you back to only hours before, when you’d been at the diner with the divine girl, Nika. God, she was the embodiment of beauty, Aphrodite reborn as a human. 

The local bakery is well known among students, professors and newcomers alike, everyone knows about the bakery with the best pastries in the whole of Boston. Knowing that, it’s not even close to surprising when the line to the register reaches across the room, looking up at the menu of sorts to see what you want to pass the time.

There’s music flowing out the speakers, covering the low sound of people speaking to each other with its instrumental cling. You didn’t mind it though, it made everything just feel more real in a sense, there was no telling why, you don’t even get a chance at trying to figure it out as your phone starts ringing again, though this time it wasn’t Lucy’s voice ringing out, instead it was the infamous song of Arsenal, The Angel aka North London forever.

“Lee, to what do I owe the pleasure of a call? Did Spurs win?” You were both Arsenal through and through, but you always liked to tease her about her being a Spurs fan, the arch rivals of Arsenal being one of the things the older woman hated the most.

“Thank god, they didn’t win. No, I’m just calling to check up on you, ask how you’re settling in and all that.” She tries to be nonchalant in her tone, but  having known the blonde for as long as you had, you knew that there was something more to it. Thankfully, the line’s length has barely changed since the second you walked in, so there’s plenty of time to figure out what she’s playing at.

“Leah, what do you really want? I know you as well as you know yourself.” When you hear her sigh you pump your fist in the air triumphantly, getting more than a few judgy looks and glances from the people around you.

“Well, Jordy and I are having a bit of an argument right, and as our unofficial kid we need you to settle this.” You nod before you realize that she can’t see you, quickly replying verbally.

“What’s the arguing about?” She almost cuts you off with the speed at which she responds at, the smallest giggle to her tone giving you the impression that the matter at hand wasn’t as serious as she’d first made it out to be.

“Who do you think Blu loves the most?” Giving it a second before you answer to give the illusion that you actually thought about it, you can almost imagine the smile on her face, thinking that you’re going to back her.

“Neither of you, Blu loves me the most.” Leah lets out an offended gasp at your statement, and you can hear Jordan’s laugh in the back for a second before a playful slap can be heard. On your side of the line, only a giggle can be heard with the simple murmuring of day to day life in the background.

“That’s only because you give him so many treats.” The blonde groans at you, but you just smile smugly in return, not that she could see.

“It sucks to suck doesn’t it, Lee.” The line of people in front of you gets smaller and smaller with every passing minute as people order, with there only being around five or so people in front of you now.

“Well I wouldn’t know much about sucking, right Jord?” When you finally catch on to what she’s insinuating, you gag, not even caring that there are tens of people around you who can hear.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about what you two get up to in your spare time.” The sentence is whispered, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more than you already had. “Listen, I’ve got to go, I’m about to order some pastries for me and Em so I’ll call you back later.” 

By now you’re nearly at the front of the line, about to get what you came for. But they didn’t seem to want to end the call, nor the teasing they were putting you through.

“Ooh, does your girlfriend want a sweet breakfast?” If the two could see you they’d guaranteed to be laughing their heads off, the look of pure disgust on your face simply hilarious.

“Em’s not my girlfriend, even the thought of that is just like ew.” You shudder when you think about it, the girl had quickly become one of your closest friends and to even entertain the idea of being with her romantically was just gross.

“So you’re just buying her breakfast platonically?” Rolling your eyes at the conversation, you quickly plaster a smile on your face as you reach the counter. 

“Hi, I’d like four croissants and a caramel coffee.” The cashier’s name tag reads ‘Amelie’, the girl looking at you confused as if she doesn’t understand what you’re saying. The women on the other side of the phone snicker and if you weren’t raised the way you were, you would’ve hung up by now.

“A caramel coffee? You mean a caramel macchiato?” She questions dryly, like she really doesn’t enjoy her work.

“Yeah let’s go with that.” You pull out your wallet from your pocket, fishing the card out whilst trying your very hardest to not drop the phone sitting in the space between your head and your shoulder. 

“That’ll be 14 dollars.” Blipping your card against the side of the maschine, the transaction goes through without a problem thankfully. You smile at the girl again as she tells you that your order will be ready soon, and as you walk over to sit down at a table you can hear the kissy noises they’re making.

“Did you two just collectively decide not to hear me say ‘me and Em’, the idiot got wasted last night and I don’t have anything at home, courtesy of that drunk idiot. So me being the great friend that I am, decided that it was better to get breakfast than having to deal with a hangry and hungover Em.” You can hear the way they let out sounds of realization, understanding what you mean.

“Hey, why didn’t you bring us treats when we were hungover?” Leah asks, apparently offended that you hadn’t done this for them.

“Well, you two never took me out to parties so I never knew when you were hungover.” Despite them not being able to see it, you shrug absentmindedly, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t get to go with them.

“Fair enough.” 

“Listen, I’ll call you back later, I’ve got to carry everything home and I only have two hands, so.” The two say goodbye before hanging up, and you slip your phone back into your pocket as you walk up to the counter, taking the paper bag with you as you walk out into the warm weather again. 

The walk back home is just as peaceful as the walk to the bakery, maybe the usual Boston had decided to take a break for just a day. Well whatever it was, you were thankful for it, your sleep deprived mind couldn’t handle much more than it already had.

When the lock clicks and you open the door, you’re met with the sound of groaning coming from the kitchen. Taking off your shoes at the entrance, you hang your keys back on the designated hook before you move towards the kitchen.

Peeking around the corner and into the kitchen, you quickly find the source of the noise. Because Em was standing in the middle of the room, banging her head against the counter clearly in quite a bit of pain. 

Why she was hitting her head against the counter then, you didn’t know, it’s completely irrational. But if that’s what she wanted to do then you’d let her, it wasn’t really any of your business.

“Em? What are you doing?” She looks up at you when she hears your voice, her gaze murderous, her hands in her hair, massaging her head like it was the last thing she’d ever do.

“Oh, grumpy you’re finally home, where have you been and why did you let me drink so much last night?” She groans out from between clenched teeth, your laugh filling the room pitifully within seconds at her words. It is funny after all, it was Em herself who insisted on drinking last night and her suffering the consequences of her actions was hilarious.

“I was out being an amazing friend and getting us both some breakfast.” You place the bag on top of the counter, almost right in front of Em’s face, but when she makes the motion of grabbing the bag and consuming the contents, you snatch it from the counter.

The older girl whines at your actions, her head coming down against the marble countertops again, the repetitive thumping annoying you more than you’d like to admit.

“Listen, I didn’t spend 14 dollars just for you to throw it back up. Off you go, get ready and for god’s sake please do not throw up in my living room.” Putting your hands on the back of her shoulders, you gently lead her all the way out of the room and into your bathroom, sitting her in front of the toilet before going back to the kitchen. “Oh, I talked to Luce earlier, she wants to thank you for making me ‘experience college the right way’.”  

Emma lets out a groan that sounds like a hybrid of a hawk getting piped and the death whistle, was getting praised by THE Lucy Bronze really worth the terrible hangover? Only Em could answer that, and she was currently hanging over the seat of your toilet, puking her guts up.

You can hear Em flushing and then moving to the sink, turning the tap on and taking some into her mouth, swirling the water around. Her bare feet slap disturbingly against the wooden floor as she makes her way towards the kitchen, your back turned towards her as she comes up behind you, her arm slinging around your shoulders.

“Wait, Luce? Luce as in Lucy Bronze? Lucy Bronze, the three time Champions League winner?” You shrug at her, turning back around to face the rest of the kitchen with Em hot on your heels.

“Yeah, I mean knowing her is not impressive.” Em’s wide eyes suggest a different story, her hands coming up to lay on your shoulders as she shakes your body back and forth.

“Wait, you know THE Lucy Bronze?” Taking her hands off your shoulders, you push the coffee cup into her free hand and a croissant into her other one. She nods thankfully before she hops up and sits on the counter, the small bag being placed between your bodies as you sit beside her on the counter.

“Did I forget to tell you that? And also why would she call me if we didn’t know each other?” Your eyebrows knit together, thinking back to all the conversations you and Em had over the past two and a half weeks.

“UH yeah, how do you know the best defender in the world?” The brunette girl slaps your shoulder playfully, studying your side profile out the corner of her eye. You look back at her in the exact same way, a small almost unknown smile on your face.

“Our mums knew each other, I’ve known Lucy since I was in diapers. And besides, I wasn’t the only one out here hiding family.” Raising your eyebrows accusingly, the girl beside you gives you a look of perplexion, not understanding what you mean by the statement.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her feet swinging off the edge, nearly smacking against your cabinet doors every time.

“I mean your scary older brother that you never told me about.” You say matter of factly, pointing at her with a ‘you know who I’m talking about’ look. The ‘ahhh’ sound that escapes her lips when she realizes who you’re talking about sounds out through the kitchen, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Oh, Cal? Cal’s not scary, he looks like the rat from flushed away. Oh and that reminds  me, you have to come with me to this dinner he invited me to next week. No way I’m third wheeling all night long with him and his latest girlfriend.” The snort you let out is involuntary, the American girl’s description of her brother very vivid, and hopefully correct. It wasn’t like you’d seen her brother ever before, so you didn’t actually know what he looked like.

“Yeah sure I’ll help you feel less single, but no hand holding and no pretending to be together.” You look at her pointedly, making your point totally clear, no fake dating, that never turned out right. Em nods her head as she shrugs, as if to tell you ‘fair enough’.

“No way that I’d go out with you anyways, you’re far too grumpy for my liking. Maybe you can set me up with one of your mates in England.” Her hand covers her mouth so that she doesn’t laugh at your horrified expression, clearly you’re disturbed at the mere thought of Boston Tea Party part two happening if they ever broke up. 

“One Boston tea party is enough mate, we don’t need another.” The sip of coffee that Em had just taken covers  basically the entirety of your kitchen in a single second, the girl beside you spitting it out in surprise. “Em, come on. I’m not cleaning that up just so you know.”

Jumping down from the counter, you nearly slip on Em’s newly spit out coffee, only escaping the sticky mess by a millimeter. Her laughter clings out through the apartment, and Em makes sure to let you know that she’s sorry by telling you through her bouts of laughter.

“Look under the sink, you’ll find what you need under there.” The sound of the cabinet door opening can be heard from where you’re standing in the middle of the living room, picking up all the various things littered around the space. 

“Girl, why do you have everything under here except paper towels?” The brunette calls out for you, and you shake your head in amusement at her, there was no way that Em hadn’t thought about looking in any other cabinet than the one she had her head stuck in at the moment.

“Look in the compartment above, see if you’ll find them there.” You get the confirmation that she’s found it when she lets out a short ‘aha’, you can almost imagine the way her head hits the corner of the sink when she gets up, the loud ‘fuck that hurt’ being very telling.

“You okay?” Looking around the wall in the direction of the kitchen, you see Em sticking her hand out, the thumb sticking up telling you that she was fine.

It didn’t take as long as either of you had thought to clean the kitchen up, only a few minutes and even less to clean the mess in the living room. Soon enough, the television was turned on and the two of you were sitting in silence watching the looney tunes.

“Do you think the duck piped the rabbit or is it the other way ‘round?” Em questions, her tone completely serious, as if she wasn’t asking the craziest question ever.

“Uh I don’t think Bugs Bunny piped Daffy Duck.” Looking at her incredulously, she only responds with a shrug, her theory about the two cartoon animals being shot down almost immediately.

“Well they do have sexual tension that’s for sure.” She states matter of factly, pointing at you like you would agree. Spoiler alert: you didn’t agree at all.

“Mate what goes even on in your head?” You ask her, looking at her as if she belonged in a mental institution. Em scratches her head nonchalantly, stretching out her legs and placing her feet in your lap. “Do you not have anywhere to be?”

“Like where?” She asks, her words coming out mumbled as she’s biting her nails, chewing on the bits before she spits them out. When she looks at you she sees the judgemental look on your face, stopping what she’s doing with no real sense of urgency.

“I don’t know, maybe at home? Do you not have like a hundred plants that need to be watered?” She springs up from the couch, running to the entrance where she puts her shoes on before she shouts out a quick ‘bye’ and runs out the house.

“What is she on?” You laugh through the sentence, the pure hilarity and absurdity of most situations involving your newest best friend making you laugh more often than not.

With Em being in and out of your apartment practically every day, the week leading up to the dinner with her brother and his ‘newest’ girlfriend passes by extremely fast, feeling more like a day than a week.

“Em, what am I supposed to wear? Is it like a fancy restaurant or more chill?” You shout from your room, Em changing into her clothes in the living room. The clothing hangers click against each other as you look through the clothes you’d managed to put up over the past few weeks, many different button ups and a few normal t-shirts.

“You’re asking me this 10 minutes before we go?!” She shouts back, surprised that you’re not already finished dressing yourself and getting ready, seeing as you were the first one out the house normally.

“Yeah, I just realized that I never asked you what to wear.” You shrug to no one in particular, seeing as you were the only one present in your room.

“Didn’t your parents take you to a bunch of dinners with their clients?” Em’s voice carries through the walls, especially with the woman coming closer and closer to your door.

“I’ve been to a fair few, but in my defense I’ve always had stylists helping me so putting together outfits isn’t really one of my strong points.” Pulling out a few items of clothing, you hold them up so that they’re almost exclusively in your line of sight, looking to see if they’d match. 

“Fair enough, it’s not too fancy, just wear that linen shirt and some of your fancy pants.” She peeks her head into the room, looking at where you’re standing in your jeans, seemingly debating whether to wear the simple white button down or a Harvard t-shirt. 

“Trousers?” You raise your eyebrow cheekily at the brunette, a small teasing smile on your face.

“Yeah yeah, you know what I mean.” Emma rolls her eyes at you whilst you place the two articles of clothing back into your closet, the hangers clicking easily against the pole they’re hooked on.

“I do, I just like to annoy you.” Hearing the door click closed, you pull the linen shirt off its hangar and pull it over your head before you unbutton your jeans and pull the ‘fancy pants’ over your legs. Buttoning up the various buttons on the slacks, you quickly tuck your shirt in before opening the door and tapping Em on her head as you pass her.

“Shut up man.” You look back at Em when you reach the entrance, picking out your fanciest pairs of shoes to show her.

“Those look good?” She studies them for a second or two before nodding diligently, pulling on a pair of relatively fancy shoes too.

“They’re better than your beat up sneakers at least.” She shrugs at your offended look, almost telling you that it’s only fair since they are beat up.

“They still have at least two, three years left in them alright. There’s no need for new ones if they work just fine.” For the second time that day, you take your keys off the hook in the hall, letting Em walk out the open door before you so that you can lock everything up.

“Are we finally taking your car?” She asks, seeing the little metal key on your keychain with hers nowhere in sight. Normally you were insistent on taking hers as your baby was almost priceless, a reminder of home that you’d come to love over the past week, seeing as you’d gotten it shortly after signing your first professional contract.

“Yeah, I need to impress your brother, right?” Smirking cheekily over your shoulder, you see Em smiling widely at you as the lock on the door clicks closed, waiting for you to follow her into the elevator.

“Can I-” She starts off, the cool air in the lift making the hair on your arms raise, the skin becoming all prickly like that of a goose.

“No.” You can see the way Em pouts almost like a petulant child through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest as she glares at you.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask you.” Raising a single eyebrow at her, you look down at her through the corner of your eye, like you did more often than you were willing to admit.

“No, but I do know you and that’s enough, no one other than me will ever drive my car.” The late afternoon sun glows bright orange like hot coals as the two of you step out into the humid air, the garage not too far away from the building’s entrance. Picking out the right key, you quickly unlock the door before pulling it up, revealing the gorgeous red ‘67 Mustang that Em always wanted you to drive.

The girl in question wolf whistles when she sees the car, a hand coming up to shelter her eyes from the sun beaming into them, moving towards you with slow steps. Walking into the garage, you motion for the other girl to open the door on the passenger side as you plop down into the driver’s seat. 

You don’t have to feel around for very long to find the ignition, as you push the clinking keys in, smiling satisfied as the motor revs up loudly. Applying a small amount of pressure to the gaspedal, it’s not long until you’ve navigated your way out of the garage successfully and pulled onto the main road.

Pulling the seat belt over your body as soon as you’ve made it out to the main road, you waste no time in pulling your sunglasses out of their compartment and putting them over your eyes so as to not get completely blinded by the sun.

“Okay, give me the rundown of your brother, likes and dislikes, hobbies, aspirations, all the basic knowledge apart from him looking like the rat from flushed away.” Tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, you peek down at the phone that’s currently giving you directions for the restaurant, the beautiful nature almost mesmerizing.

“His full name is Callum Adam Whitmore, he’s 23 years old and he plays basketball for UConn. He likes sports, hitting on anything that has a pulse, pretending he knows how to play the guitar and pretentiously explaining movies. He dislikes losing, being told no by our parents and me on a few occasions. Hobbies are partying and gaming, aspires to go to the NBA. That’s all.” Em lists, giving you all the information you need to adequately make the assumption that Callum Adam Whitmore is kind of an arse.

“Well he sounds…nice?” There’s no denying how questionable you sound, clearly not believing the words coming out of your own mouth. Em looks at you over the tops of her own glasses, giving you a skeptical look.

“No he doesn’t, he’s an ass and to use the correct terminology, a fuckboy.” Em pushes her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose, turning the knobs on the inbuilt stereo for it to start playing music, ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations flowing softly out the speakers.

“Sing with me grumpy! I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me, I’ve got a sweeter song, than the birds in the trees.” She sings loudly, her hands gesturing for you to join her in singing as you shake your head, a small smile on your face at her antics. “Come on, sing it man! I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?”

Finally relenting at the last second possible, you join the older girl in song happily.

“My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl.” Tapping along to the beat just as the last note of the song rings out, you pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, effectively ending the little karaoke session you were participating in.

“Holy shit man, that went so fast.” Em pats your shoulder as you pull into a parking space at the corner of the big parking lot, taking the keys out of the ignition before you fold your sunglasses and place them back into their compartment.

“Perks of having a really fast car.” Waiting from the brunette to step out of the car, you don’t waste a second in locking up the extremely expensive piece of machinery. You take a second to fix your hair in the rear view mirror, even though you don’t really know why, there wasn’t really anyone in that restaurant to impress now that you knew that Em’s brother was a total ass, but your instinct told you to. 

“Can you hurry up?” The girl in question asks from her place in front of the restaurant door and you send her a sarcastic smile in response, half running half walking up to her.

She doesn’t say anything as she pushes the door open, in fact she doesn’t say anything until you two reach the hostess stand where she tells the worker the name of the reservation.

As the worker leads the two of you over to the table there’s a million different thoughts running through your head, why were you nervous? Why did it feel like your stomach was about to explode? Why were there so many tables in the restaurant?

You only really tune back into the real world around you when Em pinches your side, her head turned towards a table with a man sitting alone, presumably her brother. The man stands up and walks around the table to reach your side, bringing your friend into a familial embrace, before he turns to you and sticks his hand out.

There’s no avoiding the sense of deja vu you get from the action, remembering the girl from the party almost a week ago who’d done the exact same thing, but then again it was the most common form of introducing yourself.

“Cal Whitmore.” His voice is on the deeper side, not Darth Vader deep but definitely on the deeper side of the spectrum. His calloused hand grips onto yours in a confident handshake, fingers gripping onto yours harder than needed, which fits the cocky description Em had put forth.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You smile staley at him, the man moving back to his side of the table as you pull out the chair for the girl beside you, only sitting down when she’s settled.

“So, where’s your darling date Cal?” Em asks her older brother teasingly, looking around the restaurant like she’d appear just out of anywhere.

“Calm yourself Em, she went to wash her hands.” He leans back in his chair cockily, his eyes glued to the backside of one of the waitresses passing by like some horny teenage boy.

“You know what, he does kind of look like the rat from Flushed Away.” You lean in closer to Em as you whisper, studying the man’s face carefully and noticing increasing similarities between the stopmotion rat and the tall man.

“Em, what the fuck, have you been telling people that I look like the rat from Flushed Away again? I don’t look like the fucking rat from Flushed Away, stop telling people that.” He looks at the girl beside you in disappointment, his thin lips turning down quickly. Well that was until a sweet voice cut in, a soft hand with fingers adorned with rings placed on his shoulder, moving down to his chest softly.

“What has she done now?” That accented voice was familiar, and as your eyes trail up from the stranger's hand to her chest and then lastly to her face you soon realize why it was so damn familiar. The careful upwards tug of her lips to the slight curls of her hair and the furrow in her brow, there was no denying that the girl standing before you was someone you recognized.

Fucking hell, you’d just taken your best friend’s brother’s girlfriend out on a date a mere week before meeting him officially. You were officially fucked.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 32

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

2.1k words

M!troll x f!reader

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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It was a warm and stagnant night sleeping at the little fishing outpost, but it was still better than sleeping out in the open like the night before. You and Zen stayed in a simple hut with a simple bed, but at least it was a roof over your head.

He woke you early the next morning to hop on a small boat with a few local fisherman who were sailing north. While boats were nothing new to you coming from a coastal kingdom with an impressive navy, this was barely meeting the definition for one. You sat on Zen’s lap on the floor and hung off the edge feeling sick for most of the trip. It was a relief hours later when the boat finally anchored and the two of you were able to clamor to shore. With no dock in sight, you were happy that at least that they were able to get pretty close to shore with how small the boat was.

Zen hopped off first, unfazed by wading through the shallows, and gave you his pack to keep dry before hoisting you up on his shoulders. Even carrying you while wading through the water he moved quickly.

By the time you reached the shore and had a quick lunch it was already midday. You were certain that the other day Zen had said it would still be a fair distance from where the fishermen would drop you off to his village, you were hoping that you could make it there soon.

“Will we get there tonight?” you asked

“Hm?” Zen asked back.

“To your village, will we get there by tonight?” you clarified.

“We should, as long as we do not stop much we can probably make it there a bit after sundown.”

“Thank the Light” you mumbled, you were not looking forward to the possibility of sleeping outside again.

The terrain had changed a lot in the time it took to sail here. The patchy trees and grasslands had long since given way to a sparse forest and that was now quickly giving way to jungle.

He led you into the tree line, along well worn footpaths and while you had been enjoying walking along the shore yesterday, the shade of the trees sure felt a lot nicer than the midday sun. Back in your kingdom you seldom left the walls of the city, though a few times you did get the chance to walk through the surrounding forests, this however was not even remotely similar. The trees here grew much taller, the color of everything was much brighter, everything was lush and new and exciting.

The path wound and forked its way deeper into the jungle, though Zen moved confidently, choosing which direction to go at each crossroads without hesitation. His pace was slow to match yours, just letting you take your time to experience everything and take it all in. Well, until the sun started getting low and he insisted carrying you the rest of the way at his pace so you could actually make it to his village before it got too dark.

Finally, as the sun was nearly set, you found yourself back along the shore with the soft glow of lights along the horizon farther up the coast. The closer you got, the more structures crept over the horizon and into view until you were able to get a fairly decent view of things.

“Zen, is that your village?” you asked.

“It is. We should be able to make it just a bit after nightfall” he answered.

“That’s your idea of a village?”

“What do you mean by that? Of course it is. Come on, we are close.”

He carried you for most of the rest of the way, only sitting you down when you squirmed as you got closer. Town or city would have been a much better descriptor, it was not at all the quaint little settlement you had been expecting. The city was bordered on one side by mountainous jungle and a large bay on the other, forming a crescent hugging the coast.

Zen was swarmed by people the moment the two of you got close enough to the edge of the city to be noticed. There was excitement buzzing in the air as more people gathered, chatted with him, and ushered the two of you farther into the city.

It was late, but the city was still bustling with people going about their business. Everything was colorful, from the people to the buildings, everything was rich and bright and it only made Zen stand out with how drab he was dressed.

“Is everything always so lively?” you asked him as you drew closer to the heart of the city. There were drums coming from up ahead and the sounds of people gathered.

“Most of the time” he shrugged, “But come, I’m sure by now someone has run off to tell my family we are here.”

By the time you reached the city center you had attracted quite a crowd. People offered you both food and drink, which was appreciated after eating travel rations. You sat with Zen around the fire in the central square and enjoyed you food and just watching him interacting with people. He was always stiff back at the capital, almost on guard, but not here. He was leaning back a bit, speaking cheerfully in his own tongue, not his formal orcish or human common. He was gesturing about with his hands and smiling while he spoke, and despite his drab clothes he actually seemed to fit in for once.

Zen always somewhat awkwardly stood out in the capital. Sure there were very few trolls there so all trolls stood out to a degree, but Bira and Ba’tual only stood out as much as any other troll while Zen constantly looked a bit uncomfortable and out of place. It was nice to finally see him so relaxed.

A voice rang out that caught his attention and caused him to bolt upright. You did not understand a word of it besides Zen’s name but he quickly stood up straight to greet whoever was walking up.

The woman stood eye level with him and the resemblance was nearly uncanny. Same lanky build, rich sapphire skin tone, shaggy green hair, and big green eyes.

You did not have to know what she was saying to recognize that Zen was getting chewed out by his mother. She tugged on his clothes and raised her brow, she ruffled his hair and seemed to have issues with it too.

Seemingly in an attempt to distract his mother from further picking him apart, Zen quickly tugged you up to stand by him and immediately her entire attitude changed.

Her facial expression softened as she placed her hands on your shoulders and just looked you over. She looked back to Zen and smiled as she spoke before giving you a hug and stepping back.

“My mother, Sahi” Zen introduced.

Automatically you curtsied, years of etiquette lessons and formalities drilled into you, which only made Sahi smirk.

She spoke with Zen for a moment and then turned back to you.

Zen quickly translated what she said, “She welcomes you to our home, and also family, and looks forward to getting to know you.”

You thanked her and happily spent time with Zen just enjoying seeing him so relaxed. People floated in and out: childhood friends, various relatives, what felt like the whole city.

You met Zen’s older brother Tuva, the current chief of tribe, and his younger sister Veli, a pearl diver.

Everyone was warm and welcoming, and you could not help but realize that Zen probably would not get the same open arms reception back at your kingdom as you got here.

You leaned against Zen, exhausted from traveling and just wanting a bath, but you were happy to sit with him as long as he wanted to stay there. The evening dragged on, eating and drinking until you saw the traces of purple on Zen’s cheeks from the alcohol.

“Having a good time?” you asked.

“It is nice to be back” he answered.

“Why did you wait so long to visit then?”

“It has been hard coming back, it stopped feeling like home many years ago” he said without elaborating and you did not push. It seemed like a sensitive subject.

Not long after the two of you made you way to where you were staying, a small home not far from the center of town. It was not much, just a sitting area and a small bathroom on the tiny lower level and a small loft bedroom with a second floor balcony. Just a simple wooden structure with a thatched roof and raised a few feet off the ground, but at least it was private to stay.

Zen must have seen the disappointment on your face when you looked into the small bathroom and there was no bathtub, “We can go to the bath house in the morning to wash up” he offered.

“Bath house?” you questioned.

“It is the easiest way to get hot water. They are dug into the cliff faces around at the edge of the village where the rivers are, we will go in the morning. I can get water from the well though so we can wipe off at least for now.”

You sat and waited while Zen went to go get some water. He helped you clean up, gently wiping down your arms and legs before helping you undress and clean up the rest of you. He looked exhausted, and was definitely a bit tipsy, but his expression was so soft as he looked up at you.

Gently you took the washcloth from him to return the favor. You let your hands linger longer than necessary on him, enjoying the vibrations from his purring while you cleaned up his chest. Just enjoying him. It had been a long two of traveling and even though you did not get the bath you were hoping for it was still nice just to share a moment together.

The ladder leading up to the little loft bedroom was steep, you climbed up slowly with Zen following behind you to catch you in case you slipped. As much as you usually loved the skin to skin contact of being snuggled up to Zen he always gave off so much body heat and it was unbearable now under the blanket on a hot, humid night. You shimmed away a bit and tossed the light blanket off of yourself, which only marginally made things better.

“Is everything alright?” Zen asked, sounded a bit worried.

“It’s just a bit to hot to be cuddling under a blanket” you explained.

“Oh” he seemed disappointed but tossed the blanket off himself and snuggled back up to you.

It was still too warm even like that. Back home on a cold desert night you loved how much heat he gave off, but here it was just miserable.

“Zen, its too hot” you protested. Outside earlier it had not been as bad with the breeze coming off the bay, but inside the warm, stagnant air was stifling.

He did not say anything at first, just got up and walked out onto the balcony for a moment before coming back in, “I have an idea” he offered you his hand to help you up.

The air outside felt much nicer as the two of you stepped out on to the balcony. You crouched a bit to keep yourself covered by the reed-woven rails, not wanting to accidentally flash anyone and especially not on your first day there. A simple hammock stretched across most of the small balcony and Zen beckoned you over to it.

He helped you lay down with him and pulled you on to his chest, “Is this better?” he asked.

You took a moment to skootch a little farther up his chest so you could nestle your face into the crook of his neck. As always h”is pulse was strong and slow just under skin, steady and unwavering. Laying like this was still pretty warm, but the breeze coming off the bay made Zen’s body heat bearable.

“Yeah” you trailed a few kisses along his neck and felt his pulse quicken for just a brief moment as you settled down to sleep.

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Tag list

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[aidaita]

Oreo’s urgent Vet Bill

Hi everyone, this is the proper post I promised a few days ago and I apologize for the delay, the last 2-3 days was stressful but I’m emotionally stable to type everything down.

I’ve made an update post on my Ko-fi a few days ago if you haven’t seen it.

To start off, Oreo is my male cat son I’ve take care of for the past 9 years since that fateful day I encountered him 8 years ago. At the time, I was in a dark place mentally as I was heavily depressed from losing a dear friend and in an effort to cheer up, I went outside for a walk with a close friend to the canal two streets down from where I live, and that was where I saw a pair of eyes staring at me. A month old kitten I named Oreo and from that day, Oreo has brightened my world and I’ve taken him in as my precious fur baby ever since. My family unfortunately lost our other cat, Blueberry, last year to cancer for the medicine and treatments weren’t enough to ease her suffering from the cancer, so when Oreo’s second blockage on the evening of February 28, 2025 occurred, I was absolutely terrified.

That night, I skipped dinner, I stayed up half the night watching over Oreo and had a fitful sleep of a few hours, waking up in between the few hours to the noises Oreo was making from the blockage. And so on March 1, I went directly to an animal hospital I normally go to for his check ups, exams, previous surgery he had, but unfortunately they had to turn me away for being fully booked, so I was forced to go to another vet clinic that accepts emergency visits and that’s where I ended up in VCA Knowles Snapper Creek pet hospital and the very expensive vet bill.

The initial estimate is the one I originally posted on my other post which I’ll upload here for 48 hours observation.

I was also given an estimation for 24 hr observation but in both estimations, it was super expensive and I work at a $13 part time retail work shift and I could not afford it whatsoever. The last surgeries were paid for by my mom but this time she could not pay for this, and she has other health-related financial payments to recuperate financially and that was when I begun to get very stressed and panic. It was made worse and broke me into an emotional panic when my mother suggested that we may have to put him to sleep as we cannot keep paying $3k every time he gets a blockage.

My heart sank, I was not ready to let Oreo go yet. I became so distraught.

What can I do to save Oreo?

I’ve been frantically looking online what to do, looking into pet insurance, frequently asking for payments plans, asking what they can do to reduce the prices, etc. all while I’m on a time limit as I had a work shift in the next 2-3 hours and with this emergency situation, I absolutely needed every hour I can get. It was the most horrible position to be in the middle of.

Oreo could not qualify for pet insurance because it does not cover for pre-existing conditions/treatments (this is his second blockage), the pet hospital (both the first I went to and the second) do not have payment plans, every new estimations they gave me in an effort to help me and Oreo came with high risks such as one that is the bare minimum (just unblocking Oreo) but there’s a big possibility he could be blocked later that day or the next day.

Secondly, Oreo has already been on a treatment plan with his strict diet of prescription Urinary Care food with Science Hill’s ever since his first blockage sometime last year (or 2? I’m not sure, I don’t have the papers from the first one as my mom took him to the vet that time). And the doctors told me that it seems despite the strict diet he has been in, he still got the blockage from built-up sediments. On top of that, in the last vet visit on January 25, 2025 with the first pet hospital, Oreo has IVDD, or at least the beginning of it that the doctors told at the time said “it’s not a big deal right now,” so it will be a problem to look out for as he’s still young.

My mother’s comment of possibly putting him to sleep loomed over my head over all this…

And that was when I decided I can’t do this alone, I’m not ready to let Oreo go yet, not like this, not so soon. So for the first time, I’ve come to you all on the internet for help.

Due to the time constraints, I have no choice but to open a credit line with CareCredit just for this bill for Oreo but the fact he could get blocked again, issues with IVDD possibly rearing its head more urgently so soon, and with this massive bill to pay with my $13 part time retail shift, I knew that if another emergency or urgent vet visit occurs, I will have no choice but to put him to sleep.

That is why I’ve come to you all for help with the emergency vet bill on March 1, 2025 and… my goodness, within 24 hours, we have reached a little more than 1/3 of the $4000 goal (41% reached as I post this) and I could not be anymore thankful and grateful for all of you kindness and generosity to save my baby in this difficult time.

Yesterday I got to visit Oreo, he’s unblocked and appears to be urinating fine, recovering seems to be going well although he does have UTI so there’s a bit of blood in his urine (doctors reassured me that the UTI and blockage are not linked) so he’s getting treatments for that as well.

Today, Oreo will be discharged later in the afternoon or evening so he’ll be coming home soon.

The bill is still stressful but with all of you kind words, encouragement, generosity, and advice, it doesn’t feel as heavy as before. It is still a lot left to pay off so if you can, please donate to my Ko-Fi here so I can focus solely on strictly ensuring Oreo stays with me much longer such as wet food, running water fountain, new litter box, etc.

All donations received will be used solely for the bill and any additional expenses that may come up in the last few hours as I type.

And to everyone who donated so far, thank you… Truly, thank you. The tears I’ve shed the past 2 days were of stress and huge relief.

I will keep posting updates as they happen.

[yuujispunches]

Of rivalry and ruin ~ M.F. (Part 2)

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!Reader

Summary: After that party you swear that sleeping with Megumi Fushiguro was merely a mistake but when it keeps happening and lines begin to blur you find hating him more and more complicated.

CW (content working): college AU (modern setting, no curses), aged up Megumi and reader (they’re in their 20s), mentions of shitty father, some cursing, MDNI (+18), mentions of alcohol, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), a bit of angst at the end.

AN (author’s note): Hi guys! I’m so so happy that you’re liking my works, I had most of them written out before but I never thought I’d end up posting them so thank you so much for your support. This is the second part of this short series and I think I’ll probably wrap it up on the next one. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there’re any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

<<Part 1 || Masterlist || Part 3 >>

You tell yourself it was a one-time thing.

That’s what people say after they sleep with someone they’re not supposed to want, a stupid mistake, a moment of weakness, alcohol and hormones and tension unspooling after years of quiet combustion.

It meant nothing.

But it’s harder to keep lying when it happens again. And again. And again.

The next time it happened, it’s two weeks later, after midterms. You’re stressed, sleep-deprived, shaking with too much caffeine. You run into him outside the humanities building at 2 a.m., both of you cradling takeout and dead-eyed from hours in the library.

You barely say a word. Just drag him into an empty lecture hall and ride him in the back row, still wearing your hoodie and his hand over your mouth when you moan too loud.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

Library glances turn into locked doors. Study breaks turn into makeout sessions in shadowed corners. You fuck in stairwells and parking garages, once even in the back of a cab with the driver up front pretending not to notice.

It’s reckless. It’s addictive. It’s ruining your life.

You don’t know when it stopped being just sex.

Maybe it’s the way he brings you coffee before your 8 a.m. seminar, your order, not his. Or how he notices when you’re quiet and asks what’s wrong, even though he’s the worst at pretending he cares.

Maybe it’s how he doesn’t just undress you with his hands, but with his eyes. Like he’s seeing all the things you never let anyone else close enough to notice.

And worst of all?

You let him.

——————————————————————————

You’re lying on your stomach in his bed one night, hours after you were supposed to be home, one of his pillows beneath your chin and a hand lazily tracing shapes on your bare back.

He’s beside you, equally naked, breathing slow and deep. You think he might be asleep until you shift and his hand slides lower over the curve of your ass, down between your legs.

“Again?” you mumble, already sore.

He hums. “Didn’t hear you complaining an hour ago.”

“I’m complaining now.”

He presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Liar.”

You flush.

He slips two fingers between your thighs anyway, and your body betrays you arching back, needy.

“You like this.” He murmurs, voice gone low again. “You like me.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I already did” He says, slipping two fingers inside you. “Twice.”

You throw a pillow at him, but it’s weak your body’s too busy melting under his touch.

He rolls on top of you, and positions himself on your entrance. Your eyes meet before he starts moving slow, deliberate. This time isn’t fast or wild. It’s not fucking. It’s something else. Something you don’t have a name for. At least not yet. His fingers lace with yours. He kisses your jaw, your temple, your mouth.

You don’t stop him.

When you come, it’s quiet. Like a sigh. Like surrender. He finishes with a groan, collapsing against you.

And for a while, neither of you says anything.

Then he shifts beside you and murmurs, “You’re gonna break my heart.”

You blink, stunned.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat it. He just lets it linger in the room and echo deep inside you.

You stare at the ceiling, heart beating too fast.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to hate him.

——————————————————————————

It gets worse. People start to notice.

Nobara corners you one night at dinner, poking at her pasta with suspicion.

“So…” She says, chewing slowly, “You’ve been weird lately.”

You blink. “Weird how?”

“Weird like... smiley. Distracted. Glowing. Suspiciously well-fucked.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

She narrows her eyes. “Who is it?”

“There’s no—”

“If you lie to me, I swear to god I’ll go through your phone.”

You sigh and you give up because you know for a fact that she’s perfectly capable of it so there’s no point in lying to her.

And for the first time, you say his name out loud. Her jaw drops.

“Fushiguro?”

You cringe. “Yeah.”

“As in, your mortal enemy? Your academic nemesis? The guy you almost punched in that poetry seminar?”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, unable to face the fact that, now that you’ve said it out loud, now that someone else knows it makes this all too real. “Please stop.”

She stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “This is unbelievable. Are you in love with him?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. You don’t answer. That’s answer enough.

——————————————————————————

Finals hit hard.

You’re buried in papers and presentations and the slow, suffocating dread of post-college uncertainty. Your brain is fried. Your planner is bleeding ink and stress.

You see Megumi less. You pretend not to care.

But one night, after a particularly brutal week, you come home and find him sitting outside your apartment.

Hood up. Elbows on his knees. Looking like the end of the world.

Your heart trips.

“Are you ok?” You ask, careful because the expression on his face is something you’ve never seen before on him and it makes your heart clench.

He looks up, eyes shadowed.

“My dad called.”

Oh.

You don’t know much about his family, he doesn’t like to talk about it, only that his dad is a sore subject. Absent. Toxic. One of those people who builds their children out of disappointment and control.

You sit beside him, close but not touching.

“He wants me to take the law school offer.” Megumi says quietly. “But I don’t... I don’t think I want that life.”

You stay silent.

“I thought I did,” he murmurs. “For a long time. Just to prove I could. But now... I don’t know.”

You rest your hand over his.

And for once, he doesn’t pull away. He interlocks fingers with yours, slowly and almost trembling because both of you know what this means. But you don’t mind, at least in that moment.

You sleep together that night but you don’t fuck. He pulls you into his arms and you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Steady. Real.

It’s worse than all the times he’s had you moaning beneath him. Worse because it means something.

You’re not sure what. But it terrifies you both.

——————————————————————————

Summer creeps in slow and sticky.

Your last final ends in a blur, and you stumble out into the sun dazed and half-dead, lungs full of freedom.

Megumi’s waiting by the stairs.

You don’t kiss him. Not here. But you want to.

He walks you home.

You tell yourself this is temporary. That it’ll fade once the semester ends. Once you go back to your lives and stop playing pretend.

But then he says something that makes your heart stop. “Come with me this weekend.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Out of town. Just for a few days. My friend Yuji’s throwing a grad party at his family’s cabin.”

You frown. “You want me to meet your friends?”

He shrugs. “You’ve already met me naked. Might as well see how bad my social life is too.”

You hesitate.

He looks away. “You don’t have to.”

“No.” you say, surprising yourself. “I’ll come.”

His eyes meet yours.

And he smiles. Not the smug, condescending smirk you’ve grown used to.

A real smile. It’s dangerous.

You’re already falling and you don’t know if he’ll be there to catch you.

——————————————————————————

The cabin is beautiful.

Perched on the edge of a lake, tucked between trees and birdsong, it smells like pine and possibility. Yuji is a whirlwind, cheerful and chaotic and the human embodiment of a golden retriever, the total opposite to Megumi. You like him immediately.

There’s a group of them old friends, former classmates. You’re the outsider, but they don’t treat you like one. You catch Megumi watching you more than once, like he’s waiting for you to run.

But you don’t. You stay, you laugh at his friend’s jokes, you talk about the places you used to go on vacation with his sister, you steal glances at him and smile quietly.

That night, after too much wine and a firepit under the stars, you sneak away with him to the upstairs bedroom. The walls are wood. The air smells like cedar and summer.

“Your friends are nice.” You say once you’re both alone in your room.

He stays quiet for a moment, his eyes sparkling slightly with a glint that you haven’t seen before. “They loved you.” He say simply and steps closer to you, his hands on your hips. “I already knew though, who wouldn’t?”

His words linger in the air, heavy with the weight of what they could imply.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.” He says as his lips start kissing down your neck. “It’s the truth.”

You close your eyes and let him, too scared to dive further into it. You knew what you felt and, for a moment, you think that he might just feel the same.

Soft sighs leave your lips, your skin feels like electricity everywhere he touches.

He undresses you slowly, reverently. It was as if he was trying to carve every second of it into his memory even though he had already seen it countless times.

He lifts you up, carrying you to the bed and places you down carefully, like you were something holy, something worth worshipping. His positions himself on top of you, and his lips descend down your body, slow, too slow. It makes you lift your hips up impatiently.

“Megs…” You whine. “Please…”

“Never thought I’d hear that word coming out of your mouth.” He muse and smirks up at you.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh you’re about to.”

And just like that his mouth is finally on you. He licks a strip down your slit before he starts lapping like a man starved. It leaves you gasping for air, one hand gripping the sheets and the other is tangled into his hair. It’s almost embarrassing how fast he makes you come, but once his face is eye level with yours again he seems proud of it.

You’re breathing heavily and you’re still coming down from your high but your body feels on fire.

“Your turn.” You say before placing a hand on his chest, pushing it lightly and rolling over so that now you were straddling him.

You quickly reach out for the nightstand, grabbing a condom, tearing the wrapper with your teeth and slowly, teasing him.

“Fuck…” He grunts and shudders slightly.

“Who’s impatient now?”

“I can never win with you.”

“You’re about to.” You smile as you repeat the words he had just said moments ago.

He chuckles and shakes his head as he looks up at you, it’s soft, intimate and it makes something inside of you stir.

You sink down on him, slowly, giving you both time to adapt to the sensation before you start moving. He places his hands on your hips and caresses your skin gently.

“God you’re beautiful.” He breathes out, that shine in his eyes still present.

You ride him with the window open, moonlight on your skin and his hands on your hips. He groans your name like a confession.

Later, he pulls you close and whispers, “Stay.”

And that’s what you do.

——————————————————————————

You almost believe it’s real.

Until the night you hear him on the phone.

You’re walking back from the kitchen when you pause outside the door voices muffled, urgent.

“I don’t know what she wants from me.” He says.

Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t ask for this. We weren’t supposed to get serious.”

Silence and then the words that make everything shatter.

“Yeah. I know. I should end it.”

You leave before he sees you. Getting back into bed with a gaping hole inside your chest.

You pack your bag the next morning. He’s still asleep when you slip out.

You don’t leave a note. You don’t need to.

——————————————————————————

The summer passes in pieces. You ignore his texts. You block his number.

You go home, bury yourself in internships and silence and the ache in your chest that refuses to leave.

You should hate him.

You want to.

But even now, you still want to hear his voice.

——————————————————————————

Three months later, you’re back on campus for grad orientation.

You’re early. You always are.

You step into the first seminar of the term, a new building, a new professor, a new beginning.

But the fantasy is short lived because you see him and the whole words seems to freeze.

He’s sitting in the second row. His head lifts. His eyes meet yours and, for a moment, everything falls away.

The pain. The pride. The heartbreak.

You remember his hand on your thigh in the library. The way he kissed your spine when you were half-asleep. How he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

You want to scream. You want to run.

But instead, you walk down the aisle heart in your throat and take an empty seat on the third row.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do you.

Tags: @hawkwithsocks

taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[luvelve]

boyfriend!wonwoo who wakes up at the slightest sound or movement and he can’t help it or do anything about it even if he so badly wants to. the first few weeks of living together was difficult to say the least. you’d wake up in the middle of the night to pee or to have a glass of water and you’d find wonwoo sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come back. guilt would wash over you knowing he has to get up early in the morning and every other morning.

you feel like the worst person in the world having to interrupt his slumber, but he tells you its okay. you once even offered to sleep in separate rooms so wonwoo can have 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. but of course, he turned the offer down. sometimes he’d act like he wasn’t woken up from your movement because he knows you still feel guilty.

you’re many months into sharing a bedroom and you’ve kinda gotten used to your light sleeper of a roommate. it’d help when wonwoo came home absolutely exhausted, he’d sleep like a baby and couldn’t be disturbed by anything.

it’s way past 3am on a gloomy tuesday morning when you feel your blanket shift and cold wind hit your lower body. you look over your shoulder to wonwoo’s side and you see him getting up and putting his glasses on. he’s quietly heading towards the door when you let out a mumble.

“i’m sorry my love, i didn’t mean to wake you.” he finds your face under the moonlight that shines through the window.

“where are you going?” you use whatever strength you have to sit yourself up on the bed.

“i was just going to get some uh… water.”

liar. the glass of water you put on his bedside table before lying down has barely been touched. and the fact that he put his glasses on isn’t helping his lie either. it takes you a few seconds but you also notice that his hair hasn’t been messed up from sleep.

“have you been up all night?” you shoot him a head tilt, slowly getting up from your bed to make your way towards him. you can tell the mental gymnastics he’s doing in his head to try and convince you to get back to bed. at this point, wonwoo knows you’ve got him and there’s no point in lying anymore.

“yes… but its okay, really. y-you can go back to bed.” he tells you softly, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. even at this hour, when wonwoo hasn’t had a second of sleep, he’s still able to be this selfless.

you stand just a few inches away from him, head tilted up to look him in his tired and droopy eyes while he looks down at you, doing the same thing. it’s silent and the only thing that can be heard is the faint sounds of the city. you take a small step to close the gap between the two of you as you wrap your arms around his waist. your head is resting on his chest and you feel it rise and fall.

“we’ve talked about this before. you always stay up with me, even when i never ask you to. waiting for me to get back from the kitchen or the bathroom. and it’s unfair to you… but i hope you know that i’d do the same for you.” you close your eyes, head still resting on his chest, internally blaming yourself for not being as light a sleeper as your boyfriend.

he smiles and returns your hug, wrapping his arms around your body and resting his chin on the top of your head. “i know, my love. i’m sorry.” another trait of your wonwoo’s, being sorry for something that’s not even his fault.

“just wake my sleepy ass up next time, okay?” he lets out a laugh and you feel it rumble in his chest. you lift your head up to look at him once again as he nods. his smile is big enough that the corners of his eyes crease.

“jeon wonwoo, i wanna hear you say it.” your voice is soft yet a bit playful. you tug at his white shirt as your lips unconsciously form into a slight pout.

“yes, maam.”

a/n: as usual, this is very self indulgent. but also, i feel like this is something that wonwoo would actually do :(( aaand i still can’t seem to finish this wonwoo fic that’s been in my drafts for over 3 weeks so pls enjoy this for now <3

[strawberrypumpkins]

hear me out ,

Ko-fi <- ill write anything

Ex husband!Simon x reader

Cw: Reader has a kind of nasty attitude, slight nsfw, established reationship , just throughts, not a final thought

You and Simon broke up on not-so-nice terms. It was a mistake made on both parts after a week back from deployment. He's out for almost 8 months in a year, leaving 4 for you. He spent most of his time back clinging to you and giving you all the love he missed whilst he was away….

When he came back this time, you wanted to talk about your future together and how it was going to work. You guys had been together for over five years, and he had a ring on your finger. Missus Riley in every aspect.

You just miss a thing: a Jr. Riley.

You want a jr, Riley. He doesn't. Neither can compromise for selfish reasons. He doesnt want to be a dead beat who only sees his child at best for only half a year whilst the child is growing up. You insist you can take care of a child on your own with minimal help, you just need someone to keep your busy, youre a stay at home wife you barely have anything doing.

Simon doesnt want his wifey doing any hard work, stay at home like the queen you are, his bank account is yours. Join as many pottery classes as you want, start a cafe, you can do anything.

Just not a child.

What was a civil discussion turned into a heated argument and soon both were throwing curses at each other, --you were throwing curses at him,-- hed rather bite off his tongue than shout back at you, but he absolutely disagrees. No kid, not yet, hes not ready to go that far, he wants to be selfish too.

What turns into not talking for a few hours turns into a day, then a week. You expect Simon to break it as always, he'd say he's sorry and you'd fold telling him how you were wrong, he's right, you can settle for another cat, maybe a dog, or start a business as he said. You were unreasonable, he's barely home how when would he have any time to be with you?

You knew this before saying I do.

But Simon doesnt talk either, doesn't even glance in your direction, he assumes you want space, ofcourse he wants to grab you and smother you in all his love, but he waits…… and keeps waiting… and more waiting for when you give him the signal.

You don't.

Yours mad. Why isn't he coming to you first? You sleep in the same bed at night, have breakfast together, and even stay in the bathroom at the same time, why won't he look at you? Is he tired? Does he think this was a deal breaker?

A week later another fight happens when you go out for a girls' night, when you get home you lay it all out to him. He's a prick, you hate him and he doesn't deserve you, no he doesn't.

Divorce comes after

He leaves the apartment to you, you receive spousal support until you decide to get a job, if you want to get a job, simon says.he never took his card back from you, hes the one who insisted you stay home so you shouldnt have to find a job now, just rest at home regardless of whether hes your husband or not. theres a 1 year period before it will be finalized, hes holding out incase you change your mind.

2 months of deployment and it begins to settle in just how bad it actually feels to be truly alone. You dont have and phone calls, no messages from simon ofcourse you have your cats but thats it, you dont work. You cant go out with the girls everynight simply because youre bored. They have lives too.

Drinking in your apartment on a Thursday night till you blank out is the only thing you have to keep you busy. In a drunken haze, you message Simon's number, a long rant begging him to come back, you were oh so wrong and you made a terrible mistake. The message doesn't send, but you feel better, it feels better to get it off your chest regardless of whether or not he saw it, at least you said it.

Messaging simons number became a frequent activity, you used it as a photo album, a note pack of sorts, you send pictures of flowers you take, of yourself, grocery lists, and the cats, you vent and rant in voice notes, tell the blocked number how you're feeling, how much it's raining, treating it as if it's an actual conversation with Simon. And it feels real, at least in your mind, you don't need to feel embarrassed about venting your wrongdoings to anyone, it's between you and you alone, and seeing the messages sent makes it feel real. You could do the same for another random block called, but you like seeing Simon's name up there.

Maybe there's the hope he sees it.

On the other side of the world, Simon is a month deep into a stressful mission, he's been dropped with the team at some random location, they camp out in the forest and have to sneak around like pests, he can't message you– you're divorced now - or at least in the making -, you hate him as you'd said that night and besides signal won't allow it. Then he sees your messages popping up all at once starting from almost a month ago, grocery lists, you miss him, what you've done that day.

And as he stands deeper into the forest away from the team, fisting his throbbing cock, looking at your reflection in the pot of the noodles you were eating, imagining how your lips wrap around the chopsticks as you slurp and lick your lips and edging himself by pressing his thumb to the little slit as he listens over and over to your voice notes reminding yourself to buy groceries then switching to how much you miss him so much. He doesn't stop until he's shooting blanks, never has he been so happy to hear you talk about buying vegetables.

.

You wake up one morning to someone ringing the doorbell nonstop as if they're trying to break it. Such an obnoxious sound, clearly they dont care much about anyone if they cant wait a single moment. You stretch quickly walking to the main door to rip them one when your eyes fall on simon.

He is wearing a black top, camo cargo pants, and black boots, his duffel bag in one hand and the other hand a stack of papers just back from deployment.

“can I c’m in?”

[myceliumsunshine]

Hear me out, Sam Winchester x reader based on the song Wagon Wheel(apologies I’m having a country phase)

Either Sam or Reader desperately trying to get back to the other because they miss each other sm. could take a turn or it could be fluff

Wagon Wheel - Sam Winchester

A/N - hi @sweetiecelin my lovely moot sorry this took me so long i was camping but i have the writing bug again and i'm also in a country phase (it's not a phase!!) so take this *thrusts fic at you* simp sam winchester. like, he will die without her kind of simping. very codependant relationship. dean is very unhappy to be there. southern reader. word count - 917

The bunker is quiet with the sound of your absence. The sound of the electric kettle you’d bought to make tea in the mornings, the sound of your laughter after a particularly bad joke from Sam or Dean in the afternoon, the sound of your soft snores as you snuggle into Sam’s arms in the night, the absence of them all creates an awfully loud silence that seems to threaten to smother the Winchester boys.

You’d been gone a week. Sam barely remembers why you’d left. Something about an old friend needing help, and you’d rushed away before he could offer to go with you in the old yellow Mustang you insisted you kept, despite the fact that you rode in the pitch black Impala with him and Dean pretty much every time you left the place the three of you all called home.

Sam misses you. It isn’t actually that revolutionary of an idea. Sam misses you when you leave the room he’s in, Sam misses you when you take your hand from his when playing FBI on cases, he misses you when you’re asleep and he misses you when you’re awake. Sam could miss you professionally, in the Olympics, score gold and set a new world record for missing you. Sam misses you a lot. But this is different. The ache in his bones is from missing you. You’ve been gone a whole week. He’s starting to feel like a dog left at home while its owners go on vacation, the way he’s staring longingly at the door all times of the day, his tail between his legs and a low whine in the back of his throat. Metaphorically, of course. He isn’t actually whining at any point (Yes he is. But he’s made Dean swear never to bring it up again, never to tell you, and he’s been more careful to make sure his brother wasn’t around ever since. Not that Sam would admit he’s been whining.)

You’re gone and it’s changed the way Sam goes to sleep. He no longer sleeps his full 8 hours, not without your waist to sling a heavy arm over. A pillow just doesn’t cut it, even if he puts an unwashed shirt of yours that still smells like you over it as a pillow case. You’re gone and it’s changed the way Sam wakes up. He no longer wakes to the feeling of kisses to his eyelids, to his nose, to his cheeks, to his ears, to his lips. The smell of the coffee that you’d somehow managed to slip out from under him to make doesn’t fill his senses either. Sam spends his waking hours moping around the bunker.

Dean’s sick of it. Everytime you call he’s complaining about Sam, and though it makes you stifle a giggle that your 6’5” boyfriend has been keening like a sad puppy dog, you have to admit you miss him too. You’re just as pathetic and needy and whiny (Yes, you can admit it. Yes, it makes you think you’re both more mature and more well-adjusted than Sam.) as your boyfriend back home. You call Sam at least once a day, usually two, three, or even four times a day. Yeah, you miss him.

Which is why, when you walk through the bunker doors, you drop your duffle and you’re running through the bunker to your shared room, hat flying off your head as you’re jumping into his waiting arms. The bouquet of flowers that you’d picked back in Tennessee clutched tightly in your hand squished up against Sam’s back, mostly wilting from the lack of water on your 14 hour drive.

“Hi.” You whisper into his shoulder. He’s lifting you off of the floor, and then your legs are wrapped around his waist, hoping to push your very being into him, hugging each other as tight as humanly possible. If you could crawl into his skin and never leave him again, you would, and so would he.

“I missed you.” He mumbles into your hair. You laugh, because you know that he missed you, he hadn’t stopped telling you over the phone, and also because you’d missed him. Missed the way he smelled, like salt and iron, lighter fuel and smoke, something sweet and something distinctly Sam. Missed the way his hugs seem to cover every inch of your skin. Missed the way he’s kissing you now, like you’re something delicate, like you’re something to be worshiped, something to be adored, like you’re the air in his lungs, like if he doesn’t kiss you now, he’ll never get the chance again.

“I missed you too.” Sam missed the way your southern accent seemed to get deeper every time you went to the south. The twang of your thickened South Carolina accent is something he can never get enough of, because it only lasts for the week after you leave the southern states.

“I missed you more.” You hand him the twisted, wilted, squished dogwood flowers, smirking.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He’s smiling at the back and forth now.

“I don’t know, I think it might-”

“God, shut up.” You both turn to Dean at the door, and then you’re laughing again and the breath is gone from Sam’s lungs. And then your forehead is pressed against his, and Sam might have a stroke. And then you’re kissing him, and Sam has died and gone to heaven. You pull back, looking at him.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

taglist - @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing