#writing weaknesses

[mercurial-thrills]

Writing While Autistic: A Personal Reflection

It's Autism Acceptance Month, so I figured I would share my own experiences on writing for autistic and allistic folks alike.

I was diagnosed with autism later in life, as an adult. This meant I spent a large chunk of my life unaware I had it, chocking up my strengths and weaknesses to both internal and external factors. As for writing, realizing I'm autistic made things make more sense.

So, I decided to share my strengths and weaknesses when it comes to writing, particularly ones that relate to having autism. At the end, I'll also share more tips.

A Necessary Disclaimer: I cannot speak on behalf of all autistic people. For disclosure, I was diagnosed as Level 1/2(1 in Part A, 2 in Part B) because of how it impacts me. For those who are unfamiliar with the diagnostic criteria, you can read this article with the original (deficit model) criteria as well as re-written criteria from a neurodiversity lens.

My Writing Strengths

When I was 12 years old, writing became a special interest. I like to think about it all the time, I like to do it all the time, and I wanted to become a copy-editor for a long time.

It seems I was gifted at reading, writing, and spelling as a child, well advanced beyond my peers. While this isn't necessarily an autism thing, many autistic people experience similar phenomena of being gifted, having uneven skill sets, etc.

I find it easier to write when I'm involving a hyperfixation/special interest in my writing, like trauma disorders, D&D, or straight-up writing fanfiction.

Things like NaNoWriMo are usually productive because they create the routine of writing every single day. Once it's in my routine, it's not something I want to stop or skip.

I'm good with writing autistic characters because I'm autistic. I also find that my comorbidities are helpful in writing characters with anxiety, PTSD, and depression.

Because of my special interest in writing, I spent a lot of time getting to know everything I could about the writing practice. There's still lots I haven't figured out, though.

I'm very strict with my writing rules.

I script in conversations on a regular basis, which has helped with writing dialogue to a degree.

Writing, and learning about writing, has made metaphors and other figurative speech easier to understand.

My Writing Weaknesses

I would talk about writing all the time and not notice that people did not care until they outright told me. This is because I have a hard time with facial expressions, and even looking at people's faces to understand how they are feeling.

I have a hard time starting and stopping activities, which makes it hard for me to find time to write when busy. If I want to write a part of my novel, it will often be an entire chapter or nothing at all.

My minimal experience in having conversations with others means dialogue can sometimes be stiff. It's also highly inspired by conversations I've experienced, heard, or read about. It's hard to be "original" in this regard.

One random trait I have is needing to plan everything to ensure I know what's going to happen. This means I always plot stories rather than pantsing them, meaning that writing with a given word prompt does not always fare well.

I tend find writing club and other writing communities overwhelming. It's easier when they're online.

It's challenging to write stories from the lens of a neurotypical character. In fact, it's hard to write stories from the lens of a character without autism. It seems everything I write has neurodivergent allegory, and while this isn't necessarily a bad thing, it means it's harder to branch out.

Niche Tips For Other Autistic Writers

Study story structures, regardless of whether you're a plotter or a pantser. You don't have to use them, you just have to know them and think about them when coming up with writing ideas.

If you're struggling with writer's block, pace. Pacing happens to be one of my stims and helps me come up with good ideas. Perhaps it will do the same for you.

Fanfiction is good. It's a real medium, and if it involves one of your special interests, even better!

Find out what works for you! We're similar but also different, so it's kind of difficult to provide suggestions that are likely to work with the most people.

It felt important to mention that autism has its strengths and weaknesses. Being autistic shouldn't be a source of shame, the end of the world, or a death sentence, but it also isn't like a walk in the park either. It is still considered a disability, impacting some areas of life more than others.

Still, I'm trying to be proud of it.

[shhhhimwatchingthis]

My favourite underrated thing about Louis de Point du Lac is that he truly is the least curious vampire to ever be made and he does not give fuck about vampires despite being one.

Its Claudia who goes to libraries, reads the folklore, tries to learn as much as she can and pushes Lestat for answers about who made him and where the others are. Claudia says Vampire Pride and Louis says hmmm Vampire Tolerance.

And Louis...truly does not care about vampire history,law, culture. He's never even thought to ask. There are vampire laws?...ok...Lestat never cared about them and he's not going to either, lol. He's broken a few and he will continue to do so. Oh you have a coven? he's not gonna join it, he's gonna do his own thing. but good for you good for you.

the 500+ year old Coven Leader, he's gonna call Louis, Maitre, actually.

He has fire powers? thats kinda cool. he'll learn that but only cause it lets him vent his feelings about Lestat.

Lestat and Armand say the name of the vampire queen in front of him and Lestat straight up says, "Louis has no idea who that is" and do you think Louis cares, outside of the fact that for some reason it means he can't kill Lestat? No! Do you think in the 77 years he's been with Armand he ever took 5 minutes to ask a follow up question? No!

Do you think he will care about Akasha in season 3? Doubt it! Outside of her obsession with Lestat, who is the only person left on the planet he seems to be able to filter Caring About This Shit through

He blatantly breaks the 3rd law and publishes a book about being a vampire and when the other vampires get pissed not only does he not apologise he literally sends them his location and says 'you wanna fight? lmao don't miss'

I love him. Daniel Molloy is gonna need to bring his A game because Louis will not be solving a single mystery next season, nor would it even occur to him to try.

[nyehhehhehs]

Being a Papyrus is not for the faint of heart

[sylvieserene]

Beast Yeast Episode 10's ending in a nutshell:

So I thought of making this edit while writing chapter 11 for my PureLily fic: Love is like a Poison (It's completely unrelated to this 😭)

[quarterlifekitty]

“Just the tip”

cw: includes some dubcon/noncon depending on interpretation

Gaz is saying it to tease you when he’s just barely inside of you. “Is that enough for you, love?” He can feel you pulse around him as you whine, just short of begging.

Soap is saying it when he’s drunk, you’re drunk, and you definitely shouldn’t be doing it. He’s promising you don’t have the go all the way— just a little, just to help him get it out of his system, ok?

Ghost is just straight up tricking you. Told you he’d take it slow tonight, but then he snaps his hips against yours so hard that your ass flesh of your ass ripples. “Can’t believe you keep fallin’ for that one, birdie.”

Price is condescending as all hell. He’s talking to you in that babying way when you’re horny and desperate. “Just the tip— that’s all she needs, yeah? This sweet little pussy… Aw, does that feel better, darl’?”

König really meant it in the moment that he said it. He knows you’re anxious about taking him�� and for good reason. But once he finds himself inside, how is he supposed to resist? You’re just too sweet. Too warm. Too wet. Too tight. Too breathtaking beneath him. He’s only a man, liebling.

[mischievous-thunder]

Bonus:

They're flirting and also starting a fight

[kawareo]

Different ways to 'fix' a Bhaalspawn, I guess

I love Durgethara. Strike doesn't.

[milktrician]

(what the. who threw a wife plot device in the middle of a peak lord meeting)

i thought about this bit at the end of the airplane extras the other day. bro why are you looking at your coworkers like that rn

[sunsburns]

To add on to my previous thought, Joaquin could simply be doing the dishes his tags dangling an inch away from his chest or seeing them outlined under his shirt and I’m still drooling.

Like if he put them on me would he be acting the same way? Let’s find out, Joaquin lemme borrow your tags pls!

anything he does would have me swooning i don’t know what to tell u

and joaquín isn’t even doing anything particularly noteworthy, just standing at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes after dinner. he’s humming something soft under his breath, something familiar, and the low, absent-minded tune settles in your chest in a way you don’t quite expect.

he’s wearing one of his usual loose-fitting shirts, sleeves cut just enough to tease the toned definition of his arms. the fabric is thin, clinging to his back from the warmth of the water, and there, just beneath the cotton, you can see them.

the outline of his dog tags. they press against his shirt every time he moves, shifting, catching just enough light to keep drawing your eyes back to them.

you were telling him some story from earlier in the day, but the words falter on your tongue, train of thought lost entirely as you watch him.

it’s when he turns slightly, reaching for another plate, that they swing—dangling just an inch away from his chest, pressing against the fabric, teasing you like they know exactly what they’re doing.

your gaze traces the silver chain around his neck, how it peeks out from the collar, disappearing beneath his shirt. your fingers twitch with the sudden need to touch, and before you even think it through, you’re pushing off from the counter, stepping closer.

your hands skim over his shoulder first, light, almost absentminded, trailing down until they brush against the beads of the chain. you barely apply any pressure, just running your nails over them, feeling the warmth they’ve absorbed from resting against his skin all day.

joaquín stills instantly.

his breath hitches just enough for you to notice, and you don’t miss the way his fingers falter under the running water for just a second.

you pull the tags from under his shirt gently, letting the metal settle against your fingers, and then you tug.

not hard—just enough to make him stumble a step, enough to force him to turn toward you, enough to have his eyes wide and blinking as he processes what you’ve just done.

you don’t give him time to recover.

your fingers curl around the tags, keeping him close as you lean in and tug him even closer, pressing your lips to his before he can so much as utter a word.

for a second, joaquín doesn’t move. he’s too caught off guard, too caught up in you, the cool press of your fingers against him, the warmth of your lips settling over his. but then he melts.

the dish towel slips from his hand, landing somewhere in the sink, forgotten. his wet palms hover at your waist, dripping, for only a second before he touches—really touches—fingertips pressing into the curve of your hips, pulling you flush against him.

he exhales into the kiss, slow and shaky, and it sends a shiver down your spine. his lips part slightly against yours, a moment’s hesitation—like he’s savouring this, like he doesn’t want to move too fast, doesn’t want to ruin the way your breath catches at the same time he does. he always kisses you like the first time.

but you don’t want slow.

you tug his dog tags again, just enough to tilt his chin down, just enough to feel the low, barely-there sound he makes against your lips.

and then he’s kissing you back in full, properly, like something in him just gave up resisting.

his hands tighten at your waist, then one slides up your back, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing against warm skin as he holds you even closer.

the heat between you builds, your head spinning as he deepens the kiss, lips moving with a slow, deliberate ease—like he wants to take his time, like he’s making sure you feel every second of it.

and you do.

you feel it in the way his nose bumps against yours when he tilts his head, in the way his breath hitches when your fingers slide up, curling into his hair. you feel it in the slight, barely-there tremble in his hands, like even he can’t believe this is happening.

it all makes you smile.

when you finally break apart, your breath is uneven, your lips tingling and in a wide grin.

his face is pink, eyes still a little dazed, lips parted like he’s still trying to catch up to what just happened.

your fingers are still wrapped around his tags.

“what was that for?” he asks, voice quieter than usual like you just knocked all the air out of his lungs.

you shrug, giving the chain one last, playful tug.

“felt like it.”

[thepromptswhisperer]

"I'm weak for you." Prompts

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Ha. Don’t think too highly of yourself. Just because I crave your company every now and then, doesn’t mean you’re my weakness. You’re not.”

“I can’t control myself around you. Don’t even want to.”

“Fiiiiine. I’ll do it. For you. Just for you.”

“Why do you have to make keeping a distance from you so damn difficult? I’m trying my hardest and you just…”

“That was but a moment of weakness. Think nothing of it.”

“Having a weak spot for someone doesn’t equate to wanting to be with them. Those are two completely different things.”

“Why can’t I say ‘no’ to you?”

“It scares me to see how far I’m willing to go for you.”

“No, wait. Stay- Stay back. I need to think rationally.” “...What’s that got to do with me?”

“You just can’t stay away from me for too long, huh?”

“My knees have gone a bit weak. Do you mind holding me?”

“It’s like… You have this power over me, and I- I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

“I don’t care about anything but you.”

“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong.”

“Stop it. Can’t you see that staying away from you is torture for me too?”

“I’m weak for you.” 

“You have me all wrapped around your finger.”

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation.”

“Right now I think you could probably talk me into anything.”

“You’ll be the death of me, [name].”

“You’re the only one I have opened up to like this.”

“Aren’t you at least a little ashamed of how blatantly you’re exploiting my feelings for you?”

“For you, I’ll take on any challenge.”

“(Fuck.) I need you to say that/make that sound again.”

“Just when I think you couldn’t make me go even weaker in the knees, you go and say stuff like that. Do you want me to collapse? Maybe melt into a puddle too while I’m at it?”

[bluerosefox]

Protective Instincts

Hmmmmmmmmm

Idea.

So we all mostly headcanon that Jason was around tiny Damian when in the League right? And if we do demon!twins or siblings Danny they meet too?

Well what if, now hear me out, what if while taking care of them Jason notices early on how Danyal, or as he likes to be called Danny, doesn't seem to have the heart to be an assassin compared to Damian. And even under the pits influence and the LOA teachings, Jason's protective instincts of protecting kids is still strong. And notices how... lack the protection around Danny is compared to Damian, the true heir.

What if, when Jason leaves the League to start his revenge against Bruce, he fakes Danny's death by killing off the little 'guards' he did have and takes the kid with him.

But as he goes to Gotham Jason has to decide.

Drop the kid off in a good family, give him a new identity and keep him hidden or keep the kid and raise them?

[suhosieun]

i don't think we're ready to talk about the reality of suho's life after waking up

i know we’re all overjoyed to have suho back, but i don’t think we’ve talked enough about the trauma and maladjustment he’s going to face post-coma. like—this boy hasn’t used his body in two years. his legs are going to feel foreign. his balance, stamina, even the act of walking up stairs, it’s all going to overwhelm him. he’ll get frustrated trying to open a jar, drop something, and just break down. and what’s worse is the emotional weight that comes with it.

everyone around him has moved forward. sieun has new friends. they’re seniors now, talking about college, about leaving. and suho? he’s stuck two grades behind. that would mess with him. he’d feel left behind, lost. he’ll get jealous of the bond sieun shares with the others, even if he doesn’t want to be. he’ll cling to sieun like a lifeline, terrified when he’s not around, throwing a tantrum after finding an acceptance letter for sieun from a foreign university.

he'd flinch at loud noises & get triggered when fights break out. he'll snap at his grandma for fussing over him, then immediately crumble with guilt, because it used to be him taking care of her, not the other way around. he used to be strong, cheerful, the protector, and now he feels like a burden. and worst of all, he hates himself for it. hates that sieun, who once relied on him, now has to see him like this—a shell of who he used to be.

and sieun? he’d be shattered. watching his guardian angel struggle, the person who once pulled him out of the darkness now drowning in his own. but he’d stay. he’d hold suho through the breakdowns, reassure him through the jealousy, quietly adjust to the mood swings, and never make him feel like too much, even when it is. because sieun loves him too much.

[kgetou]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ how they eat you out ! whc ⭑.ᐟ

warnings: mdni, +.18, sm.ut, men starving for puss.y, face.sitting, cun.niling.us, fem! reader, all the characters are over 18, fem dominating, sub!beomseok, overstimulation, cum eating, o.ral f! receiving, degradation (seongje), english isn’t my first language.

characters: suho, sieun, beomseok, parku, gotak, seongje.

ahn suho

↳

let's be honest, this man loves your ass so much, he just can't live without it. So you're not going to be surprised when one day he just asks, "can you sit on my face?" and because you love your boyfriend so much, you did it.

he eats pussy like he's thirsty or hungry all the time (canon), sucking and licking like a needy man. all you need to know is he encourages you to ride his face so he can "eat" properly.

you were on top of him, moving your hips, riding his face. his hands were on your tights, bouncing you with them.while you grab his black hair between your fingers, you use him.

when your knees fail and you sit completely with your whole weight, instead of worrying. he grabs your hips and keeps you there.

and, oh my god, he loves to eat your pussy as if it is his favorite food. he loves it.

he just moans at the thought of your pussy in his face; now imagine while you're actually sitting on it.

this man is a hungry man, and he loves to eat your pussy while you use him, and believe me. when you cum hard in his face, he's going to drink it all. <3

yeon sieun

↳

one day he was just stressed (something that happened really often because he's #1 in the class). he was so stressed that when he entered his room after coming from the academy and you were there immediately, he opened your legs just to suck your clit. </3

we can't judge; that day somebody bothered him, he almost exploded, but instead, he just distressed between your legs.

slurping, sucking, and wriggling his tongue on your clit. his hands were squeezing your thighs tightly, something that he loves to do when he eats you out. while your legs were squeezing his head.

and when you open your glassy eyes, you can see him eating at your folds with his eyes closed and frowning eyebrows like he was mad, and you can even see his jaw moving in a dirty way while he's eating you.

he just loves to slurp, suck your clit, and spread your folds with his tongue; just let him do it when he's stressed because when you cum in his tongue, he's going to need some attention between his legs. <3

oh beomseok

↳

he was just there, sitting on his knees. when he looked at you with his pretty eyes, you didn't hesitate to get close.

but now he's between your legs, in the same position as he was, but he was eating you out. his eyes close while you grab his hair with your fingers to pull him deeper. sucking your clit while eating messily.

his hands around your thighs, he moans directly on your clit. when you force his head to go deeper. he loves it, and you can see it on his face.

he didn't even remove his glasses, so when you see that they were foggy and disturbing you to use his face as your wish, you remove them, making him look at you.

he tried to say sorry, but you just shut him up with your folds on his lips, making him moan and squeeze your tights until it leave marks.

he just loves when you use him like this; he feels useful. So when you cum on his tongue, he makes sure to clean it entirely to make you congrats him. <3

parku (park hu-min)

↳

something about parku it’s that he loves more fuck you from behind.

he just said that he wanted to feel all the of the problems that the boys have; but he get addicted fucking your ass.

but when it’s about eating pussy, he just love spread your legs and dive into it.

and when i say dive into it, it’s dive into it.

he love licking it, try to put his tongue inside your folds, rub his nose aggressively with your clit; and everything while he press your ass.

he just love it, don’t blame him. blame him when he put his fingers inside of you while caressing your clit with his tongue and his other hand middle finger rubbing your butthole.

he’s amazed by the way you sound, the more you moan the more he’s going to introduce his middle finger in your ass.

he loves your ass i said?. so when you find yourself cuming hard with two fingers in your pussy, one inside your butthole and his tongue on your clit, he’s going to slurp it all, even your butthole.<3

gotak (go hyun tak)

↳

This man is a needy man. He needs your pussy in his face, but also your lips around his cock.

imagine he comeback tired of the training at the basketball club. when he takes a shower and see you on his shirt with nothing less than a pair of panties.

he’s done. and also, you are done.

because he’s going to ask you like the gentleman he is: to sit on his face and give him a blow job while you ride it. he forces you to move your ass, while he hears your gags sounds from his cock entering in your throat.

he likes to move his hips to get more deeper in your throat. he doesn’t concern about it certainly. because, he is training your throat for it. and he believe that his girl knows how to take it all.

when he fucks your mouth more rapidly, you know he’s about to come, but he also hug your hips, pressing his face in your pussy, moaning, licking and slurping your clit and folds.

when you cum on his face, he also cum in your mouth, filling that pretty sore (now) throat<3

keum seongje

↳

something about this mf is that he just love taking the control. and how dare you not to follow his commands…you know how you can end if you don’t do it.

so when he asked you nicely to arch your back and raise your butt. you did it.

but you didn’t expect that his tongue will explore all your pussy with a hungry needy actions. he was just amazed by your slickly pussy.

sometimes he stopped from licking it, only to slap it, calling you his slut and emphasizing how wet you are only with his mouth.

he love the sounds you make while he teases your clit with his tongue, while your hole fill with his fingers. you can see his smile on your mind, even though you weren’t watching him.

but he loves it, and he loves it even more when he separate his lips a little bit away from your pussy, and your ass went directly (almost like a tick) backward to find his mouth again.

he’s not going to deny your orgasm, you were his pretty little slut, now, let it go on his mouth, he’s going to drink it all and not stopping until you squirt his face

after all he wanted to get his face all wet just because of you<3

the request was made by @daughterof-aphrodit who asked for this when i already got the draft ready.

thank you for requesting.<3

like to see more of this, reblog if you think it’s worthy.

i wrote this at 1:30 am, sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

[loserlvrss]

Newton’s Fourth Law : THE LAW OF (E)MOTION ⸝⸝ 약한영웅 class

you learned the theory of love through the boy who didn't know how .ᐟ

y. sieun & fem.reader 是 pure fluff ⛱️ skinship 1004THOU oneshot ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ back2MiSC 요구?아니 for @slytherinshua

Questions, questions, questions. Your brother would contest that you came out of the womb curious. Your first words were laced with a quizzical tone, and as you grew older: What’s for dinner? Where’s my toy? Who took the last Melona bar? 

You grew more complex, and eventually your questions did too. 

What’s the square root of X? Why do we dream? Where did life begin? If we’re so technologically advanced, why are there no flying cars? Do you think the HealthCare system is just a sick play in the game of capitalism? What’s really right from wrong? 

Why are we alone in the universe, if the universe is presumably infinite? 

Your brother swore that Shinee’s Sherlock was specifically written for your curious-ass. But you couldn’t help it, there was just so much you wanted to know. He always assumed that when your mouth opened there would just be a question mark that followed—and most of the time he was right. 

“Suho!” You excitedly shouted, running into class 1-6, slamming open the door. It caused all the attention to shift to you… except one. 

The boy who didn’t look, almost at the front of the class, was hunched over his desk with a pen in hand, presumably studying. You wanted to ask why until you saw he had his AirPods in, assuming that he just didn’t hear you announce your presence. 

“Oh, Ahn Suho!” You sang as you skipped down the first row excitedly, until you reached the end of it, stopping at the black-haired boy who was fast asleep: Your older brother by almost one year. 

You slapped the back of his head—gently, for a sister—and he flinched awake, blinking up in your direction with a confused expression. 

“What the…” Suho started, laying his head back down, realizing it was only you who had hit him. “Why are you here?” He asked, eyes shutting again. 

“It’s lunchtime,” You stated, one of his eyes cracking open at the fact, “And I’ll buy for you,” His other eye opened, back straightening, “If you listen to my Big Bang Theory.” 

His eyes closed again suddenly, “…Big bang?” He laughed breathily, “Bang, bang, bang.” 

You huffed, annoyed at this dismissal of another answer to your questions. You turned to anyone in the class, but by now they’d all heard your long-winded monologues on The Germ Theory, on Natural Selection and every other thing you’ve ever read a scientific research paper on. 

They all ignored you. 

Then, your eyes landed on the scary-boy who Suho told you to stay away from—after what had happened a couple days ago, that is. 

But, you didn’t care. Call it his little sister being annoying or whatever you want, but why heed his warning? Wasn’t science all about discovering for yourself? 

“Hey, Evolutionary Game Theory!” You plucked an AirPod from his ear, “What are you listening to?” 

Murmurs broke out amongst the class, Suho finally shooting up out of his chair, like you wanted in the first place. 

The boy in front of you grabbed your wrist before you had a chance to bring it towards your ear. Your eyebrow cocked curiously—now the anticipation was eating at you. What was it? Was it really that bad? 

Suho started towards you, “What are you doing, yn?” 

“Yeon Si-eun, right?” You hummed, “Or should I call you The Fight-or-Flight Theory?” 

You trailed, questions and more questions infiltrating your mind. The gray-sweatshirt you were following only seemed to get faster each time he’d look back to see if you were still there. 

Until he seemingly had enough, turning around so calmly you didn’t know if it should scare or impress you. 

“Finally,” You tried to lighten the tension, “I don’t know if I should call you the Law of Inertia or something else. I debated on it, but I think it suits you: An object will remain at rest or continue moving at a constant velocity unless acted upon by an external fo—” 

He interrupted you, “Stop calling me useless theories, yn.” and you couldn’t tell what you saw written within the fine-lines of his downturned features, but nothing about it was something you were used to. “Just… stop.” 

Your eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle, “There’s nothing useless about you, Si-eun.” 

You traced the side of his face, eventually making your way down the bridge of his nose. You swear you could feel his breath hitch against your lips, eyes locked on yours.  

“You’re like The Triangular Theory of Love,” You commented, continuing to run your finger over his bottom lip. 

And, he just let you. 

Si-eun’s only ever let you get as close as you were to him. Inches apart, damn-near centimeters in reality. 

He had his hand on your waist, drawing circles where your shirt had ridden up against your skin, but you had to overlook the goosebumps and continue your explanation, “Love is a complex emotion made up of three components, according to Robert Sternberg: Intimacy, passion and commitment.” 

You were like a peninsula, a sanctuary for him to let his guard down. You were everything bright and colorful in the contrasting world; Everything good. 

When you first met, he wasn’t actually listening to anything—he heard you burst through the door in search of your brother—but now you’re all he ever wanted to hear in this deafening Hell everyone called life. 

You shifted closer, moving your arm to rest over his shoulder, “Hey, Law of Motion?” You asked, heart picking up an unsteady rhythm. He pulled your chest to his, feeling the warmth you brought with you overtake him. It was intoxicating… you were intoxicating. He felt like he’d never get enough, like the most insatiable being on Earth. 

Eventually, he began to wonder what theory that would make him. He’s sure you’d know. 

Then, you heard the soft hum from his lips meet your ear. Luckily his room was silent, otherwise you might not have. 

“I’ve got all of those, so…” He held his breath for a second, “Can I love you?” 

reblogs appreciated ! loserlrvss 2025 rights reserved. @kstrucknet @slytherinshua @gyuwrites @sknyuz

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 8

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: An ER visit and a long awaited conversation.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: a variation of the hospital scene has been in my head since the beginning, and the one that convinced me to start this in the first place. Obviously it changed a bit after I figured out where it took place in their relationship. Thankful to be finally sharing it with y’all! The scene after that? Uhhhh👀😭

Special shoutout to @cherriready for being so extraordinarily amazing and helping me with the end bits!!! Thank you for letting me vent about the show and this series💜

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: age gap, ANGST, feelings, still avoiding those feelings, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, little to no comfort

not beta read

Michael was thankful this shift was nearly over, just under two hours to go and he could go home to crash. He really needed it, spending sleepless night after restless night, thoughts turning over and over in his head. He should not have cared so much, or felt so deeply about not talking to you. You should not have mattered nearly as much as you did.

But he had laid in his bed night after night, thinking only of you. Feeling stupid. Feeling perverted. Feeling like he wasn’t good enough. You had walked out, after all. You were the one who had stood and chose to leave.

So why did it feel like it was all his fault?

He remembered the warmth of your lips, how your eyes had held him so tenderly, how soft your hands had been. The rush he had felt when you finally connected. Like something had finally clicked into place.

With a long breath, Michael tried to get back to work. Maybe check out triage, or chairs and just grab anyone to take you away from his thoughts. He stopped by Central to check on a few patients, turning around to make his way back towards chairs.

And like the universe had finally taken pity on him, there you were. Hair pulled from your face, one hand held upward. Still in your work clothes: a pair of chinos, a light blue sweater and a jacket slung over your other arm. Any thoughts he had been having about anything crash landed. He had to be seeing things. He had to be seeing things; if you were here, then something had happened and you were hurt. That thought moved his heart into his throat — couldn’t he have just gotten more nurses if the universe had taken pity on him?

Then you looked up, your unmistakable eyes met his and his heart stopped.

—

Michael was on you in only a few long strides, next to you in only a blink. Taking your hand — gently, but firmly — into his, he looked over your wound with careful eyes. You held your breath, watching him, assessing him. His eyes, focused and unreadable, lips in just a hint of a frown, his hands warm and rough against your own skin.

It had been nearly a week since you had seen each other, and worry sank low into your gut. How had you ended up at the hospital he worked at? You were never supposed to be anywhere near his professional life. That was the deal.

…was there even still a deal?

“Dr. Robby?” Dr. McKay asked tentatively, glancing between you.

Robby? Who the hell is Robby? Is Michael a fake fucking name—

“Sorry, this is Doc—”

“I got it.” Michael—Robby—muttered, releasing your hand.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows furrowed, “Boss, I think—”

“VIP, I got it.” He said again, harder this time, looking at Dr. McKay and not allowing any room for argument.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows raised, glancing back at you, you were still staring at Michael dumbly. Giving a curt nod, Dr. McKay handed over the tablet and walked back towards the waiting room. You only spared her a glance before you moved into the room, Michael on your heels.

“What happened?”

Mild anger flared in your chest, “Was Michael a fake name, was nothing real?”

His eyebrows came together and his frown settled deeper onto his face, “What?”

“Robby.” You stressed, annoyed.

Realization flashed over his face, “No, no. It’s short for Robinavitch. Michael’s my first name.”

“Oh.”

Michael Robinavitch.

Well, at least it felt like you were on a more level playing field; all of your information was on that tablet now in his hand. At least now you knew his full name and where he worked. But did it matter?

Michael moved to close the door, before turning around and just looking at you. He was wearing a blue hoodie over his scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck. You hated how your mind went to how good he looked. You squirmed under his gaze, glancing over your shoulder at the exam table.

“What happened?” Michael tried again, stepping closer.

You looked at him, and let out an embarrassed sigh. “I was chopping vegetables for dinner. Knife fell, tried to catch it. Clearly caught the wrong end.” Your lips pulled up momentarily, finding it so stupid.

He nodded. You got onto the exam table, minding your injured palm, and looked back at him. The air between you felt tense enough to cut with a knife, both of you resorting to awkward movements that had once been behind you.

Michael sat on the wheely stool, scooting closer to you, reaching for your palm again. “Let me see.”

You held your palm out to him and he held it delicately in his hands. He turned to pull the tray toward him, a few things scattered across it, but you kept her focus solely on him. You hoped any of his expressions might give something away to what he was thinking, but he was painfully neutral.

“You’ll need a few stitches and then I’ll get you outta here.” He said, not looking up from your palm, grabbing some blue latex gloves.

You frowned, not thrilled this was how your night was turning out. But whatever divine deity was out there had decided to hand him to you on a silver platter. You swallowed thickly, anxious mind running rampant on all the things you could say to him.

“Pin prick and some burning.”

You noted the needle and glanced to the other side of the room until it was done. Your heart was racing and you feared he might have heard it. The last thing you needed was for him to know the effect he had on you. The air was heavy with all the things unsaid and you had the urge to run again, but his hold on your hand never wavered.

“How have you been?” You finally got out, cheeks hot.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours before looking back down to his work. “I’ve been okay.”

It stung, it had no right to, but it hurt somewhere deep in your chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You bit out, rougher than normal.

He paused for a long moment, needle hovering over your open palm before resuming the stitches, his movements calculated and precise. You looked away from his face and swallowed your feelings. They were bitter as they went down.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Michael told you quietly, still not looking at you.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I should’ve stayed.” You whispered back to him, hoping maybe he’d catch the hint this time.

Michael’s eyes quickly snapped to yours, holding you steady in his gaze. You did your best to hold it, captured by how soft his brown eyes were — pulling you deeper. It could have been hours that you held like that, his hand on yours making a heat crawl up your spine.

“Dr. Robby—”

Both of your eyes snapped to the opened door, the bubble bursting. The man who had interrupted was leaning into the room, hands on either side of the doorway, one leg slightly bent and the toe of his shoe tapping against the tile. His brown hair was swept up in a nice style, blue eyes flickering between you and Robby.

You released a breath the same moment Michael opened his mouth to speak.

“What?”

The man blinked, “MVA inbound, three minutes out. Do you want me to finish this?”

Michael frowned, “No, I got it, Langdon. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The man—Langdon—studied you carefully for another moment before turning and walking back down the hall. You watched him go, your breath stuck in your throat. You inhaled shallowly, trying to keep your feelings at bay, but you picked up the scent of him. Sandalwood and vanilla, and the burn of antiseptic.

“Don’t let me keep you,” you said, looking away from him, “I’m sure anyone could finish up.”

“Let me take care of you.” Then he coughed awkwardly, “I’m almost done, anyways.”

You nodded, trying to savor the feel of him just a little longer and hating yourself for it.

Michael hummed, “I’d like to…talk tonight, if you’re available?”

You looked at him and blinked, “We can do that, yeah.”

A small smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. “Good, I can come to yours so you don’t have to travel with your hand. But you can still come to mine, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Your face burned at his consideration, “Oh, thank you. Yeah, I’ll text you my address.”

He finished, placing the needle back onto the tray table and removing his gloves, “I’ll have a nurse come in and go over wound care, but then you can be discharged. Take Tylenol as needed, but don’t exceed 1500 milligrams in a twelve hour period.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael stayed a few moments more before lingering in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something. He only spared you a last glance before rushing back the way he had come, likely to assist with the MVA.

The nurse who had come in to go over a few details on your wound care was an older woman, with blonde hair tied up and a smile that made you feel at ease. She introduced herself as Dana.

You visibly relaxed after Michael had walked out, but your mind was still reeling from your interaction. Dana made a few notes in her chart, eyeing you occasionally from the corner of her eye in an expression you couldn’t quite read. It made you tense up, like your secrets were spilling all over the floor.

Dana sent you on your way shortly after Michael had left, with specific instructions and a timeframe to come back to get your stitches removed. You felt awkward, knowing you might have to come back. Add in the way Dana was looking at you like she could read all your secrets like they were written on your forehead, you were happy to head home.

You pulled out your phone and sent your address to Michael, anxiety churning in your gut.

—

Since getting back to your apartment, you had only snacked on a few things after cleaning up the mess you had left. You were grateful no blood had gotten on the kitchen rug. You attempted to tidy the best you could with one working hand, not knowing when he would arrive.

You pulled out the Visa card and stared at it for a while. You went to a kitchen drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors and cut it in half, deciding you were done with it, no matter what Michael had to say tonight. You struggled with using your non-dominant hand, but it halved easily enough. Placing it back in your wallet to put into the shredder at work, you let out a long breath of air, putting it in your pocket.

Michael texted around 7 to ask if you wanted him to bring food.

Only if you haven’t eaten.

He showed up with Thai food, having remembered your order from their time previously. It warmed your heart, and your stomach was thankful for him, grumbling impatiently.

Michael looked around your apartment, taking it in. It was considerably smaller than his, with a rushed paint job and lackluster appeal. But hey, it was cheap.

You sat across from him at your dining table, the kiss lingering in your mind and making your hand ache more, even after taking two Tylenol. Your heart was pounding and your mouth felt dry, worried any comment would be a complete misstep.

Did he want you in the way you were thinking? Was this going to be his way of letting you down easy, over your favorite Thai food? Did he want to scold you for forgetting the agreement? Did he want to apologize for doing the same? Did he want to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind?

Your stomach churned uneasily, flickering your eyes to his face and back to your to-go container. The quiet was eating you alive.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but each time thought better of it and closed it, attention going back to his food.

“How’s your hand?” He finally settled on.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, “It’s…fine. A nice doctor patched me up real good.”

A smile flickered on his lips, “Just nice?”

“He seemed to know what he was doing.” You said, eyes not wavering, a smile of your own hinting at the corners of your mouth, suddenly feeling bold. “He was handsome, too.”

You immediately noticed the blush blooming on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The smile grew on your face, “Yeah.”

His big brown eyes glanced away from you and back to his food, “Let me see your hand.”

You raised a careful eyebrow, but gave your hand to him, palm facing up. It was still well bandaged from when Dana had wrapped it up for you.

“Dana tell you everything—”

“She did. I wrote it all down.”

He nodded, placing your hand back on the table and letting go.

“So…you wanted to talk?” You ventured, hoping he would speak his mind first so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“Well…the agreement. I think some wires got crossed—”

“You do?” Hurt bloomed.

Michael met your eyes, a long pause extending between you. He looked so unsure, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed.

“I’d like to think this is more than just the agreement now.” You said softly, not looking at him.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t paying you.”

You recoiled like you had been slapped, getting to your feet, your eyes snapping to his, “You really think that?”

“You mean to tell me you would’ve seen me somewhere and come up to me? A man almost twenty years older and what? Flirted with me?” He stood from the table, his tone harsh.

“Would you have?” You rounded back at him, knowing he never would have even considered it.

“I don’t want to pretend this could ever be more than it is. It’s unfair to both of us.” He said, frowning, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

“Pretend?” Your voice was shrill, a laugh escaping your throat. “We’re way past pretending.”

“Do you want me to still pay you, then? Still pay for your companionship? Maybe some nice clothes—”

“Fuck you.” You snarled, grabbing your wallet from your pocket. You threw the two pieces of the Visa card at him, watching as they landed beside his shoe.

They landed with the weight of a brick rather than a flimsy piece of plastic.

Michael looked dumbly down at it.

“If that’s what you really think of me, take the stupid fucking card and get out.”

Surprise bloomed across his face, and something strikingly similar to regret, or insecurity, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. It took all your strength not to shove him out the door.

You had been so stupid thinking tonight might have gone differently, like your stupid, far-fetched fantasy might’ve come true. Your heart began to ache, taking away all the pain in your hand.

Michael leaned down quietly and picked up the pieces of the Visa card, eyes glossed over and unreadable. You watched him silently, breathing heavily and trying to calm your racing heart. Trying not to scream. Trying not to cry in front of him, but it burned your eyes.

He walked past you without a word and stepped out of your apartment, closing the door behind him — he didn’t slam it, but it rattled through your apartment like he had.

You crashed to the ground and sobbed.

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I’m so sorry😭

but hey, the worst is over (mostly)

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses: preening

Things you do that make them so proud of themselves

Gaz loves it when you tell him he’s the first person who’s done something for you. First to buy you a bouquet, first date to pull out your chair for you, first man to offer to change the sheets for you after making you cum all over them. Man loves raising your standards.

Soap’s tail is wagging whenever he fixes something and you take notice. He’s always been a tinkerer, and doing little fixes and repairs is one of his favorite acts of service. So yeah, when you noticed that dial on the stove isn’t sticking anymore? That the refrigerator stopped making that weird noise? He’s pleased as punch.

Ghost feels his chest puff out when you ask him to talk to someone for you. Sometimes when you’re anxious, sometimes when you just don’t know how to be mean to someone who’s being an asshole. Being your guard dog is his favorite thing.

Price is most happy when he recommends something to you, thinking you’ll like it, and you do. This can be food, a movie, a sex position— anything. He just likes the affirmation that he knows you so well.

König is on cloud nine when you tell him you miss him, or that you’re waiting for him because there’s something you just can’t do without him being with you. He loves being needed, so when you need his presence alone? That’s a high he’s never coming down from.

Nikolai likes it when you use him to hide. Whether it’s from an unfamiliar person or merely the sunlight coming in through the bedroom window. He loves to be your shelter, for you to grab his hand or put your face against his shoulder or get behind him. And yes— he insists on holding the umbrella for you both.