#I'm going to get out. take some more meds and sit in silence

[moralityandmusings]

DP x DC: Faster than Life, Part 2

Part 1

"Guys? I think we've got a situation?"

Barry wasn't sure what to make of the kid in front of him. He couldn't be older than 15 and he was glowing(?), which Barry knows, for sure, is not typical. The kid is also bleeding what appears to be green blood and he is definitely injured.

It was Cisco who replied first.

"What's going on Barry? I'm getting weird readings from the park you're at. They almost look like-" "Like the speed force readings? Yeah, definitely at least part of what's going on somehow. I've got a kid, possible metahuman, he's definitely injured and he just got dumped here by a Time Wraith." Barry started inching closer to the kid.

The kid didn't acknowledge his approach. Barry did a once over as he got nearer and noticed that the kid was still having trouble breathing. His arms were wrapped around his chest and torso in a protective stance, but Barry couldn't deny the kid looked like he'd probably collapse at any moment.

"Did you say a kid?" Ah, there was Caitlin finally. "Yep. Teenager, 15 at most. He's hurt, needs medical. I'm approaching now." "Barry if he's an unknown and a meta maybe you should wait for one of us to get to you. If he's injured he could lash out." Caitlin warned with a sense of urgency. "He's a hurt kid, guys. I'm not going to sit and wait while he possibly bleeds out in front of me. Prep the med bay, I'm going to try and bring him in." Barry finally got within reaching distance of the kid, crouching down so he wasn't hovering over the trembling body. "Hey kid, you alright?" Barry quietly called out. The boy froze. "Hey, hey, hey, it's alright. My name is Barry. You look like you could use some help right about now. I've got a couple friends who are super smart and can help get you patched up. What do you say?"

Barry slowly reached a hand about halfway between the two of them. He angled himself so that his posture was still friendly and open, but he would have an easier time catching the kid if he did pass out. "I promise, I just want to help you." Barry smiled. "Let me help you, kid." There was a moment of silence between them. Barry was beginning to wonder if the kid had dissociated or lost consciousness but remained upright somehow.

He was about to speak again when the kids head suddenly shot up.

Barry's gaze was met by wide, terrified, luminescent green eyes on a face much too young for this kind of clear terror and trauma. The kid was panicking, and a panicked meta is a potentially dangerous one even with the best of intentions. "Hey, whoa kid. It's alright. I swear I just want to help-"

The kid's head snapped around, eyes seeming to take in his surroundings, and Barry watched as his panic seemed to grow and grow the more he saw around him.

"Kid? Please, you need medical attention. Let me get you help. Please?" The head of shocking white hair that seemed to almost defy gravity and those glowing green eyes raced back to Barry in an instant. Barry held his breath, hoping he'd finally broken through to the kid who was now sitting in a puddle of steadily growing green. And without warning, the kid vanished.

[soldiersgirl]

your latest posts have me thinking of ben with a perv younger gf reader that has too much energy and talks his ears off for fun 😩

she matches his freak so well that sometimes he's a little dumbfounded ughh

this INSPIRED ME to write a small drabble for it, i just couldn't resist bc she is me and i'm her

summary — just annoying the grandpa x

cw — reader x soldier boy. smut 18+ (if you squint), cursing, flirting, drinking, sarcasm, teasing, billy and hughie make a small appearance.

word count — 1690 words

sure, flirting had been different when ben was younger, but this? the modern way of flirting? even he was out of his depths at times and that certainly took some serious skill and courage to silence him.

it had all started innocently when butcher had reached out to you for a "favour", as he called it. so what, a guy saves your life once and now you owe him? fuck sake.

"babysitting? do i look like a teenager trynna earn some pocket money?" you groan on the phone to butcher.

"listen love. easy gig, quick cash. it couldn't be any fucking simpler. you just need to keep the git alive and out o' trouble, yeah? even you could fucking figure that out." he mumbles in reply.

"what do i get out of it?" you huff as you bend down to tie your shoes, knowing you were going to agree to it, no matter what, but why not tease billy while you're at it?

"get out of it? the cheek on you is astounding. fuck, listen. you get to fuckin' relax and i'll pay for your bloody dinner and give you 100 for it, alright?"

"alright, alright." you hold your phone between your head and shoulder as you pull on your jacket. "text me the address and i'll be there in twenty." you replied. billy merely groaned and then the dial tone. "dick." you scoffed before checking your texts, pulling on your headphones and heading out into the wild jungle of new york.

much to your surprise, your "favour" wasn't as small as billy had made it sound on the phone when you finally showed up at the dingy apartment, alongside him and hughie. you step inside and immediately the smell of sex, weed and fast food overwhelms you as you gaze around at the abandoned take-away boxes and half-drunk whiskey bottles. a towering figure wanders out from the bedroom dressed in grey sweatpants and a new york giants button up t-shirt and a lit joint dangling from his lips. your eyes connect, mirroring the same expression of confusion and disbelief.

"who the fuck is this?" the man huffs as he takes a hit from his thick joint and studies you.

"yeah, butcher..." you turn and cock your head at him in disbelief. "who the fuck is this?" you jut your thumb behind you and hear him let out a low chuckle before both him and butcher erupt into a fit of laughter. you stare at hughie for an ounce of help but he looks equally as uncomfortable as you. "billy, when you said babysit, i thought you meant for a fucking 5 year old or something!"

"alright sweetheart, i am 105 so, close enough and i don't need no cock-suckin' babysitter anyway." he swaggers closer and sits down at the cluttered, rickety kitchen table and takes a swig of the closest whiskey bottle.

"you're literally not helping the situation, grandpa." you turn and sneer at him. he only guffaws and inhales more of his joint.

"what a firecracker you've got yourself there, butcher. if she doesn't rope in her fuckin' attitude, i can't guarantee she's alive when you come back." he says calmly, as if it's the most normal thing to say. you jerk forward but butcher and hughie quickly pull you back.

"excuse us a minute, mate." butcher smiles and drags you into the hallway as you continue to protest and shout insults at the asshole.

"you've finally lost your mind if you think i'm fucking sticking around and babysitting an actual murderer." you begin, but butcher quickly cuts you off.

"listen love, he's just kidding, alright? the fella's 105, right? he's doped up on all kinds of meds, he can't hurt a fly right now. plus, he's saving his energy so you're not in any real danger. trust me." billy sways as he gives you that devilish smile, you've grown to know too well. "just keep soldier boy entertained and busy, let him talk your fucking ear off. doesn't get easier." he shrugs.

"... soldier boy?" you pause. butcher rolls his eyes and with the help of hughie, they quickly describe their catastrophic trip to russia and discovering the bastard was still alive and how they plan to use him to stop homelander. you can only nod and hum as you try to absorb the severity of the situation, but with a grain of salt.

"alright. look, i'll 'babysit' him this once." you use air quotes before running your hands over your face, not believing what you're agreeing to. "but this, this is fucking crazy."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, love." butcher huffs before dragging you back into the apartment and explaining the situation to soldier boy before handing him another bag of miscellaneous pills. they wish you luck and stuff some bills in your hand for dinner and suddenly, it was just you and the 105-year old man-child stuck together.

the first few hours flew by without an incident and you weren't quite sure how you had managed to listen to his incoherent rants about modern society and the state of feminism without losing your mind. it might have something to do with the fact that he could explode and kill you at any moment, but it could be also be because he offered you good weed in return which made everything much more tolerable.

you had eaten some cheap-ass pizza from a nearby restaurant before settling down with a beer or two and watching whatever was showing on his shitty tv. you would occasionally hum or nod in agreement to whatever nonsense he spewed just to keep him sated; he was so into hearing his own voice that it didn't register to him that he had barely heard yours.

until you were moaning and groaning his name as he ruthlessly thrusted himself into you right there on the same couch, with your ankles dangling above your head and his hand firmly around your throat. you weren't sure how this happened or escalated, but you definitely weren't complaining as you marvelled at his toned body and handsome features. the sly, fox-like grin and matching mischievous eyes, toussled chestnut, brown hair and jawline you could cut yourself on. he pounded into your slick folds at a delicious pace, slowly dragging himself in and out of you and gazing in awe at where your bodies connected. his back scratched up and your throat littered with love bites; leaving little gifts for one another on each others bodies.

you let him take out his years of frustration and pent up anger on your body as you laid and relished in the sensation of it; welcoming every word that slipped past his plush lips and every grab from his calloused hands with a grin on your face as multiple orgasms washed over you and ebbed away at your previous hesitations. and that's how it started, this thing between you and ben.

it wasn't exactly healthy and didn't always work out, considering the amount of times you'd get into shouting matches with the older supe, but billy now had a reliable baby-sitter, so he wasn't going to complain.

"jesus christ, do you ever shut the fuck up?" ben groans as you complain about the state of his apartment, finding pizza crusts scattered around, as well as finding weapons and drugs just laying haphazardly in places where you'd least expect them.

"only when your cock is stuffed into my mouth." you state matter-of-factly as you're bent over and letting your eyes glance over the sad contents of it; a few beers, the aforementioned knife and one expired milk cartoon. ben visibly freezes and splutters, the beer in his mouth catching in his throat. you snap up, slam the fridge and give him a wink whilst hiding your small smirk. there is nothing you loved more than getting under his "thick" skin. you start unpacking the groceries you had gotten for you both; it was going to be another long night of keeping him in line and unlike him, you actually needed to eat.

"back in my day, ladies wouldn't have a mouth on 'em like you do." he scoffed, trying to act like your words weren't affecting him they way you know they were.

"you know ben? you're so fucking stuck in the past, that you have no clue how to function here! we're all trying to help you but you're just too fucking stubborn," you start and he lets out a groan as he knew what this meant; another one of your long tirades about whatever was occupying your mind. he was getting a taste of his own medicine, so he tried to keep his complains to a minimum as he settled into the kitchen chair and watch you with a beer. you rant for a little while and all he does is grunt and him, knowing it's better to just let you talk then to interrupt you; he's unsuccessfully tried a few times.

"looks like i need to fuck you harder to get my fuckin' message across." he just grumbles as you finally sit down opposite him with a scowl.

"if you're not careful, i'll fuck you harder and show how you a real women works these days." you laugh as ben takes over your previous scowl and just shakes his head. "oh ben, i am a ride that you wouldn't survive." you wink dramatically and to his dismay, he blushes before knocking back the rest of his beer.

"i should've stayed in the fucking '50's." he groans and runs his hands over his face, rubbing his beard as his tired eyes glance over you.

"but then, you wouldn't have experienced me bouncing on you, crazy style." you pout, leaning forward and grabbing his hands. he abruptly stands up and sighs before announcing that he needed a fucking nap and a bottle of jameson before he could handle anymore bullshit from you. you're left sat with a shit-eating grin, knowing that in an hour or two, he'll come crawling back and begging to hear you talk dirty to him as he pounds into you.

a/n: idk what this is but here we are. this is what my brain conjured up and honestly, this took too long for me to write, so im sorry anon that this is so late </3 -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted (comment or inbox me to be added)

[weeping-treee]

A Desperate Man- Part 9

Simon loves you. He's just in denial that he deserves to love you.

All parts here

1427 words

Your leg bounces unconsciously for what feels like hours.

Your eyes dart between him and the monitors.

You squeeze his hand at the slightest hiccup on the machines.

Sleep's the last thing on your mind, even as the clock hits 3 a.m... then 4.

You don't care about time. Don't care about anything except him.

Seeing him wake up.

Seeing those pretty brown eyes open.

You rest your forehead on your entwined hands—waiting, hoping. Praying to whatever high power is listening.

You know he'll wake up—but that doesn't make the waiting any easier.

You start to doze for a second. One second—when you hear a soft groan and his hand instinctively squeezes yours gently.

Your head snaps up and you're on your feet in a heartbeat. You look down at him, a soft smile curling your lips as the panic drains from your body.

"Hey... don't move too much.. just let yourself come to—the sedation will make you a bit groggy, my love." The endearment slips out, unfiltered. You don't care. You're too focused on him. On easing him back into consciousness.

A few moments pass and you see his dry lips curve into a smirk. "You really are down bad for me..." he rasps, voice rough and hoarse.

You scoff and shake your head as a teary chuckle leaves your lips. "Shut up, asshole."

You brush the hair from his forehead as you look at him. "You scared me, y'know? You definitely weren’t safe out there." You toss his earlier reassurance back at him with a small, shaky smile.

He huffs, trying to play it down. “Shit happens.”

He moves to sit up, but you press a hand to his chest and adjust the bed for him instead.

“So stubborn,” you mutter, rolling your eyes affectionately.

You squeeze his hand, then grab a water bottle and open it.

“Relax and let me take care of you.” You bring the bottle to his lips, watching him take slow, careful sips. Your thumb instinctively wipes away a stray drop once he’s done.

"How are you feeling? Any pain? Discomfort?" You rub his hand softly, looking him over once more.

"Nothin' I can't handle. A bit cold though." He shivers slightly, and you quickly pull the covers up to his sternum.

"A bit better? Can I get you anything? Meds? Another blanket? Some ice chips?" You ramble. The concern in your voice is obvious—so is the way your thoughts are racing.

He squeezes your hand a bit tighter, grounding you.

"I'm alright. I've been through worse. Right now, I just need you." He doesn't break eye contact, keeps his gaze steady and sincere.

You sigh softly, some of the tension in your shoulders easing as you nod softly. "Alright... okay." You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, keeping his hand in yours.

"I was really worried, Simon." Your voice trembles a bit as you say it. A rueful chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away a tear that escaped. "God, I hate liking you so much already. You're making me a bloody mess."

He smirks. "It's adorable."

“You’re an idiot. An idiot I can’t help being so damn attached to.” You smile down at him. “That pretty face helps me forget you’re an idiot.”

His eyes flicker over your face, like he's memorizing every tear-track and soft curve. That damn smirk softens into something quieter. Fonder. Knowing the way you deflect fear with your quips.

“You’re not the only one feelin’ it, y’know.”

Your brows lift, surprised by how earnest his voice is. No teasing this time. Just Simon.

“I think about you. More than I should. More than I’ve thought about anyone in a long fuckin’ time.”

Your chest tightens at that. It’s one thing to flirt. Another to joke. But this—this feels like truth.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you admit quietly, thumb brushing the back of his hand. “And I hated that. Hated that it already hurt so much.”

He nods slowly, voice low. “That’s how I knew.”

You blink. “Knew what?”

He turns his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. “That this is real. Whatever this is.”

A silence falls between you. Not heavy. Just full. Like something’s finally recognized.

After a moment, you huff a laugh and nudge his shoulder gently. “Dramatic for someone on painkillers.”

“Still mean it.” He closes his eyes briefly, leaning into the quiet.

And you let him.

Because for once, it feels safe to just be.

You sit there for a moment, watching the way his fingers curl around yours, firm but not tight. Like he’s anchoring himself.

Like he doesn’t want you slipping away.

“You should rest,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along the inside of his wrist. “Let your body do the healing.”

He hums, but doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t let go.

You add, more quietly, “I’ll be here when you wake up."

There’s a pause. Just the hum of machines. The slow rhythm of his breathing. The steadiness you weren’t sure you’d ever get to hear again.

“You always gonna stick around like this?” he asks, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it sinks straight into your chest.

You hesitate—but only for a second.

“If you keep almost dying on me, yeah,” you say, managing a small smile. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

That gets a soft laugh out of him, hoarse and a little pained but real nonetheless.

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.”

“You better not.” You meet his eyes, and there’s something in your voice that makes his smirk fade just slightly. Not gone—just tempered. Grounded.

“I mean it, Simon,” you say. “Don’t do that again. Don’t make me sit here wondering if you’re ever gonna open your eyes.”

His fingers tighten slightly around yours.

“I'd never intentionally leave you.”

It’s the closest either of you has come to saying what this is.

What this really is. Both too afraid to say it aloud. As if acknowledging it would scare it off.

You don’t push it. You just hold his hand tighter.

"Rest." You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead. Then his lips. Just enough to say what you can’t yet voice.

Mirroring his small smile as you sit back down in the chair. Keeping your fingers firmly entwined with his.

Acknowledging it—but not saying it out loud.

That’s enough—for now.

...

Later, your body finally gives in. The tension melts from your shoulders. Your grip slackens slightly in his hand, your head tilts and rests against the back of the chair.

Simon stirs. Pain hums beneath his skin, but it's not what wakes him. It’s the absence of your voice. The subtle shift in weight beside him.

His eyes crack open slowly. The medbay’s still dim, still sterile. But it feels warmer now.

Because you’re still there.

You didn’t leave.

Your hand remains in his—small, warm, still. Your breathing is even. Calm.

You’re asleep.

God.

You stayed.

He turns his head to look at you. Just a little.

You look exhausted. Brow faintly drawn even in sleep, lips parted slightly like you drifted off mid-sentence. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had.

He remembers the rambling. Ice chips. Blankets. Meds. He hadn’t heard all of it—just the sound of your voice. The way you said his name like it belonged to you.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Gentle. Unsure.

What the hell did I do to deserve this?

The thought comes sharp and hits harder than he expects. Heavy in his chest—lodging itself right between his ribs, causing a dull ache.

You could’ve walked away. Should’ve, probably. He’s not the easiest man to be around. Not safe. Not soft. Not the kind of person anyone dreams of waking up next to in a hospital bed. Let alone for the rest of their life.

And yet.

Here you are. Asleep in a chair with your hand in his like you’re tethered to him, like letting go would be worst thing to happen to you.

Making him feel human.

Like he finally is more than some tall monster in a mask.

His gaze lingers on your fingers. Daring to think about what it would be like adorned with something that made you his. For just a second, he wonders what it’d look like—your finger with something permanent on it. A ring. A gesture he always thought was pointless.

Silly.

Until now.

Until you.

He turns his head back toward the ceiling with a quiet exhale, closing his eyes again.

Maybe he doesn't deserve this. Doesn’t deserve you.

But for now—just for now—he lets himself believe it might be okay to want it.

Taglist🏷️: @tysukier @hypertail @tessakate @givemeangstorgivemedeath @jess-cyt

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Let's be Frank, so we can makeout

Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon x Sr.Resident!Reader

Author's note: I'm trying something new with formatting. I can't decide yet if Frank is hot, so they're on and off in this fic. It's LONG AF.

INT. ON-CALL ROOM – NIGHT

The clock ticks past midnight. The overhead light is off, just the warm glow of a desk lamp humming in the corner. Scrubs tossed over the back of a chair. The room smells faintly of antiseptic and coffee gone cold.

FRANK LANGDON sits on the edge of the cot, running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. You stand across from him, arms folded, leaning against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

YOU (quiet, sharp) You always do this.

FRANK Do what?

YOU Pretend like it’s fine until you decide it’s not. Until you shut down and I’m left trying to figure out which version of you I’m waking up next to.

Frank lets out a tired laugh, more bitter than amused.

FRANK Right. Because you’re so emotionally available. You love to play the victim when things get messy.

YOU I’m not playing anything, Frank. I’m tired. Tired of being some in-between thing for you. One second we’re all in, the next you’re pushing me away like I’m the reason you’re miserable here.

FRANK Don’t make this about the hospital.

YOU Everything’s about the hospital with you. Who gets the best case, who’s on Langdon’s level, who’s chasing chief— (beat) I’m not your competition, Frank. But you treat me like I am.

Silence. Frank stands slowly, the space between you suddenly too small, too loud.

FRANK Maybe we’re just bad at this.

YOU No. We’re just too stubborn to admit we want different things.

He nods, barely, like it costs him something. You look at each other—years of tension, passion, and what-ifs sitting in the air between you.

FRANK You staying here tonight?

YOU No. Not tonight.

You grab your bag, your scrubs sleeve brushing his arm as you walk past. He doesn’t stop you. The door clicks shut behind you.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – TRAUMA BAY – MORNING

The hospital hums with that chaotic early-shift energy—coffee in hand, eyes half-awake, pages already going off. FRANK stands on one side of the group, jaw tight, scrubs freshly pressed. You’re on the opposite side, lips set in a neutral line, trying to look like you slept.

DR. ROBBY, smug as ever with a clipboard in hand, steps into the center of the bay with a grin.

DR. ROBBY Alright, folks, welcome to the pitt. These are your senior residents—Dr. Langdon and Dr. [Y/L/N]. Learn from them, don’t flirt with them, and for the love of God, don’t interrupt them during a trauma unless you’ve got someone actively bleeding out.

A ripple of nervous laughter from the med students.

You glance toward Frank. He’s already looking at you, but it’s that unreadable, guarded look he gives patients before telling them bad news.

DR. ROBBY (CONT’D) We’ve got two second year residents and three med students. You’ll be shadowing on rotations, and if you’re lucky, Langdon might even remember your names by the end of the week.

FRANK Don’t count on it.

The students laugh again, and Robby raises an eyebrow like he’s clocking the tension between the two of you—but he doesn’t say anything.

He hands off the list and claps his hands together.

DR. ROBBY Alright. Let’s make some memories. Or at least don’t kill anyone before lunch.

The group starts to disperse. You turn to grab a chart when one of the second-year residents, a perky-looking girl with a glasses, stops you.

DR. KING Dr. [Your Last Name], sorry—just wanted to say I’m really excited to learn from you. Everyone says you and Dr. Langdon are like, the trauma dream team.

Your jaw tightens. You manage a smile.

YOU We get the job done.

Frank brushes past behind you, just close enough for his arm to skim yours again. You don’t turn around, but your whole body goes stiff.

He pauses only long enough to say—

FRANK You taking the first trauma, or should I?

YOU I’ll take it.

He nods and walks off, already barking orders at a med student. You stay where you are for a second too long, the buzz of the hospital around you not quite loud enough to drown out the tension still hanging in the air.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – TRAUMA BAY – LATER THAT MORNING

EMS BURSTS THROUGH THE DOORS with a patient on a stretcher—mid-30s male, multiple GSWs to the abdomen and chest, semi-conscious. The place snaps into action.

EMT GSW, multiple entries. No exit wounds. BP’s dropping—he started crashing in the rig.

You and Frank are already gloving up. You reach the patient first, pressing your hands to a bleeding wound.

YOU I need two units of O-neg, chest tray prepped, and someone call the OR—now!

Frank moves to the head of the bed, cutting the shirt off fast.

FRANK He's got diminished breath sounds on the right. We need a chest tube, stat.

YOU Then do it.

FRANK Don’t tell me what to do—I am doing it.

You glare at him, and for a split second, the trauma fades and it’s just you two again—charged, combative, dangerously synced.

You shove a tray toward him harder than necessary. He grabs it without missing a beat, intentionally brushing past your side—shoulder colliding with yours.

YOU You’re in my space.

FRANK Then move faster.

You don’t—if anything, you step closer. It’s tight quarters, the trauma team dancing around you two, pretending not to notice.

You press gauze into a deep abdominal wound, blood coating your gloves up to the wrists.

YOU You missed that bleeder. He’s tanking.

FRANK I see it. Clamp.

You both reach for the same clamp and your hands collide. You don’t let go. He doesn’t either.

YOU Get out of the way.

FRANK You get out of the way.

A beat. You’re inches from his face. Breathing hard. Covered in blood and too close.

DR. ROBBY (O.S.) Hey! Are we saving this guy or circling the drain on your personal lives?

You snap apart.

Frank shoves the clamp into your hand. You dive back in. The moment’s gone—but not forgotten.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – HALLWAY OUTSIDE TRAUMA BAY – CONTINUOUS

The patient’s been stabilized and wheeled off to the OR. The trauma bay buzz has dimmed, but you’re still riding the high—adrenaline in your veins, blood still drying on your gloves.

You rip your mask down as you walk out, Frank a few paces ahead. You catch up, your tone sharp but not loud.

YOU What is up with you today? You’re so irritable.

Frank doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t even look at you.

FRANK We just saved a guy with three holes in his chest. Forgive me for not being chipper.

YOU No—this started before that. You’ve been acting like I personally offended your entire bloodline since morning rounds.

He stops walking. Turns slowly, eyes narrowed.

FRANK You wanna do this here? Right now?

YOU I’d rather not do it at all, but you keep shoving into me like I’m in your way. I’m not one of your med students, Frank. Don’t take your ego out on me.

He steps in, voice low but intense.

FRANK You're the one who turned last night into a war zone and then strutted in here like nothing happened.

YOU Because I have to. Because we don’t get to take personal days just because our situationship’s in the ICU.

FRANK Right. Forgot how easy it is for you to compartmentalize.

YOU Don’t act like you’re the only one bleeding in this.

The tension simmers between you—burning-hot silence in the sterile hallway. A nurse walks by and shoots you both a look before disappearing around the corner.

Frank exhales sharply, scrubs ruffled from the case, jaw ticking.

FRANK We need to get our shit together.

YOU You think?

He takes a step back. Less hostile now, but the walls are back up.

FRANK I’ll take the next trauma. You need air.

He walks off without waiting for a reply. You watch him go, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something else you’ll regret.

EXT. PITTSBURGH MED – LOADING DOCK AREA – LATE AFTERNOON

The sun’s starting to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement. You lean against the wall in your wrinkled scrubs, a cigarette between your fingers. You don't even smoke that often—but today? Today demands it.

You take a long drag, exhale like it might clear your head.

The door creaks open behind you. You don’t turn around—you already know who it is.

DR. ROBBY (O.S.) You know, for someone who acts like she has it all under control, you really suck at hiding your meltdowns.

You glance sideways. Robby walks up slowly, holding a to-go cup from the cafeteria, sipping it like it’s anything better than sludge.

YOU It’s one cigarette. Don’t tell Langdon, he’ll think he got to me.

DR. ROBBY Pretty sure the entire trauma bay knows he got to you.

You shoot him a look, but it’s half-hearted. Robby leans on the wall beside you, not asking permission.

DR. ROBBY (CONT’D) You two gonna keep throwing surgical trays at each other until someone loses a hand? Or you planning on actually talking to him?

YOU We talked. Last night. And this morning. And mid-trauma. (beat) We just don’t know how to stop breaking each other.

Robby takes a sip. Nods slowly.

DR. ROBBY Yeah, well, you’re both too damn stubborn to walk away and too obsessed with each other to quit. Classic senior resident mess. Happens every year.

YOU We’re not some cliché.

DR. ROBBY Sure you’re not.

He’s quiet for a moment, then glances at you, more serious now.

DR. ROBBY (CONT’D) You’re a good doctor. But if you let whatever this is spill over into the job? You’ll tank both your reputations faster than you can say “co-chief.”

You flinch, just barely.

YOU He’s gunning for it too.

DR. ROBBY I know. That’s the problem. You’re both excellent. And chaotic. It’s kind of entertaining, but also a nightmare for everyone else.

You put the cigarette out with the heel of your shoe and cross your arms, eyes on the sky.

YOU What would you do?

DR. ROBBY You really want advice from the guy who’s been divorced twice and lives off vending machine pretzels?

You smile for the first time all day.

YOU I’ll take what I can get.

Robby finishes his coffee, tosses the empty cup in the nearby bin.

DR. ROBBY Talk to him. Not in a trauma bay. Not in the stairwell. Talk like you don’t want to win for once.

He walks back inside, leaving the door open behind him. You linger in the quiet, letting the words settle, and finally—finally—you breathe.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – TRAUMA BAY – EARLY EVENING

Another call. Another rush. A construction worker, mid-40s, fell from scaffolding. Suspected pelvic fracture, possible internal bleeding. The trauma bay is alive again—gloves snapping, vitals shouting, the whole rhythm kicking into gear.

You’re already moving with purpose, snapping into leadership like muscle memory.

YOU Let’s go—two large bores, draw labs, get a pan scan ready. I want blood hanging before imaging. Who’s with me?

One of the new interns—Whitaker, nervous but eager—steps up.

WHITAKER I—I can insert the second line.

You glance at him, firm but not cruel.

YOU You only get one try. Don’t fish.

WHITAKER Yes, Dr. [Y/L/N].

You catch Frank watching from across the gurney, lips tight but unreadable. He doesn’t say anything—he lets you lead. He lets you.

You work in tandem: you’re at the abdomen, Frank at the airway, both moving like you’ve done this a thousand times. Because you have. Even when you’re not speaking, your instincts match.

FRANK He’s stable enough to move. We’ve got time for CT.

YOU Let’s go. Everyone move with a purpose.

The med students shuffle out, wide-eyed and exhilarated. The gurney rolls off toward imaging, and the trauma bay finally quiets.

You turn, wipe your bloodied gloves on a towel, and glance at Frank. He’s not looking at you—he’s checking vitals on the monitor. So you step closer.

YOU Hey.

He looks up.

YOU (CONT’D) Can we talk? After shift?

Frank searches your face for a beat. He doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t smirk. Just nods.

FRANK Yeah. Okay.

You nod back. That’s it. No flare. No dig. Just a quiet truce.

Then you turn and walk out of the bay, head high, ignoring the way your heart’s starting to beat a little too fast.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – LOCKER ROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT

You check the time. Shift change is creeping closer. You’ve reviewed your charts, followed up on orders, even looped back with Whitaker to debrief his first trauma line. But Frank’s nowhere.

You poke your head into the on-call room. Empty.

Check the charting station. Nothing.

You finally corner Dr. Robby near the vending machine.

YOU Where’s Langdon?

Robby doesn’t look up from the vending machine, punching a selection like it’s personal.

DR. ROBBY He went home.

YOU What? His shift wasn’t over for another three hours.

DR. ROBBY (avoiding eye contact) Guess he needed a break.

YOU Robby.

DR. ROBBY You wanted space. Maybe he’s giving it to you.

He grabs his snack and walks off without waiting for your reply. You stand there, unsettled, then head to the nurses’ station, where Dana is signing off her charts.

YOU Do you know why Frank left early?

Dana doesn’t even pause her scribbling.

DANA Nope.

YOU You’re lying.

DANA I’m ignoring.

She tears off a sheet, hands it to a med tech, and turns to leave.

DANA (CONT’D) Let it go for tonight.

You don’t.

INT. PITTSBURGH MED – MED STUDENT WORKROOM – MINUTES LATER

You pass by the small conference room where the med students are huddled over sandwiches and trauma notes. As you walk by, you catch a few murmured voices.

WHITAKER (O.S.) I’m just saying—it was weird. Dr. Robby just pulled him mid-shift and told him to clock out. Didn’t even let him finish the case.

You stop in your tracks.

JAVADI (O.S.) Frank Langdon? No way.

SANTOS (O.S.) Javadi, I saw the drawer. He had oxy stashed in there. Said it was from his back, but still—why bring that into the pit?

Silence.

WHITAKER (O.S.) You’re not gonna report him?

SANTOS (O.S.) Are you? I like my GPA where it is.

They laugh nervously. You don’t.

You back away from the door slowly, stomach dropping like the ground’s been pulled out from under you. Your heart is hammering. All that blood in the trauma bay, all the tension, all the looks from Robby and Dana—they weren’t about you.

They were about him.

INT. FRANK’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

You bang on the door harder than you mean to. It’s late, but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking, your chest is tight, and every unanswered question from the shift is clawing at your throat.

The door opens. Frank stands there in a t-shirt and sweats, hair damp like he just got out of the shower, but his eyes are sharp—too alert for someone who supposedly needed rest.

FRANK What the hell—

YOU Don’t lie to me.

He pauses. The breath he takes is too slow. Calculated.

FRANK Come inside.

YOU No. Say it here. Did you get pulled because they caught you with pills?

His mouth opens—then shuts again.

That’s all you need.

YOU (CONT’D) Jesus, Frank. What the hell are you doing?

FRANK It wasn’t—

YOU Don’t say “it wasn’t a big deal.” I’m not a med student. I’m not Robby. You don’t get to gaslight me.

FRANK It was from my back. I’ve had that bottle since last year.

YOU Bullshit! Then why hide it? Why sneak it from the pitt?

A beat. He looks away.

FRANK Because sometimes I don’t sleep. And when I do, I wake up like my whole body’s still in the OR. And I’m exhausted and I’m angry and everything feels like it’s caving in—and I needed something to get through the shift.

You stare at him, heart pounding.

YOU So you put us at risk. You put patients at risk.

FRANK I didn’t take anything on shift. I swear to God.

You want to believe him. But you’re still standing in the hallway. Still frozen on the fact that Robby and Dana covered for him. That a med student saw it before you did.

YOU You should’ve come to me.

FRANK I didn’t want you to look at me like this.

YOU Like what?

FRANK Like I’m broken.

Silence.

YOU I don’t think you’re broken. (beat) I think you’re fucking reckless. And I don’t know how to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

He doesn’t answer. He just stands there in the doorway, jaw clenched, pain flickering just behind his eyes.

You take a step back.

YOU (CONT’D) You need to fix this. Not for me. For yourself. Because if Robby doesn’t report it, someone else will.

You turn and walk away.

This time, he doesn’t stop you.

INT. ON-CALL ROOM – TWO NIGHTS LATER

It’s nearly midnight again. The hospital is quieter, the chaos subdued to soft monitor beeps and distant footsteps. You’re sitting on the cot, reviewing labs, pretending to care about numbers you can’t focus on.

The door opens.

You don’t look up.

FRANK (O.S.) Hey.

Your stomach clenches. You close the chart.

YOU Is this where you tell me you’re fine and I overreacted?

FRANK No. (beat) I’m not fine. And you didn’t overreact.

You finally look at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, looking more like himself than he did the other night—but still not all the way there. There's a rawness in his face you’ve only seen a few times. After a bad code. After his father died. After your first fight.

YOU Did you talk to Robby?

FRANK Yeah. I asked for help. I’m getting it.

Silence.

He walks into the room slowly, stops a few feet from you like he’s testing the gravity.

FRANK (CONT’D) I’ve never let anyone in the way I let you in. It scared the shit out of me.

YOU So you self-destructed.

FRANK Yeah. I’m good at that.

He looks down. Then back up.

FRANK (CONT’D) But I don’t want to lose you. Even if we’re a mess. Especially because we’re a mess.

You stand, heart caught in your throat.

YOU I can’t fix you.

FRANK I don’t want you to. I just... want to be next to you while I try to fix myself.

A pause. Then, quietly—

FRANK (CONT’D) I miss you.

That’s what breaks you.

You cross the space between you in two steps and kiss him—desperate, rough, too full of everything neither of you knows how to say. He kisses you back like it’s the first time and the last time all at once, hands tangling in your hair, your scrubs, anything to hold onto.

You pull back just enough to breathe.

YOU Don’t make me regret this.

FRANK I won’t.

He kisses you again. And this time, it feels like maybe—just maybe—you’re starting over.

[fluffylino]

zombie!minho pt 4

minho finally starts his new meds..but the side effects are a bit strange~

-contains mature themes

"its much stronger than the last medication...thats what the doc told me"

minho announced, telling you word for word what the doctor had prescribed him. he had just stepped back inside after visiting the doctor for his monthly checkup. it was time for a newer improved medication.

"but its effect is immediate. it'll get rid of my sudden fatigue and zoning out"

he took his shoes off, placing it down on the shoe rack.

"and what else?" you asked, hopping around him.

"i have to take two tablets once every month. the yellow one has to be taken before the blue one." minho said, taking his beanie and jacket off. he stretched his arms, dangling the packet infront of your face.

"any side effects?"

"he described it like how you get your period every month for 4 to 8 days, ill get something similar. instead of bleeding, ovulating and all, i'll get some kind of heat."

"heat...as in?"

the kinda heat you knew was the one you had read in abo fanfictions.

well those were...intense. if it were anything like that you weren't prepared.

"my sex drive will increase drastically in the first 24 hours and may persist for the next 48 hours...so basically ill be really fucking horny"

he admitted, sitting down next to you. he leaned his head on your shoulder. so that meant his body would be adjusting. trying to go back to his normal self.

"but he did mention that with every month that side effect will gradually become less. but the first dose is always pretty bad to handle."

"it kicks in about 2 hours after i take it. so i think ill have it tomorrow morning."

"yeah, i am a bit worried though"

how could you not be?

"i doubt it'll be that bad. if it takes away that hunger i feel then i don't mind being horny 24/7"  he joked but you didn't find it that funny.

.

.

"minho..." your voice faded out. "your pant.." he looked down at his pants. there was a wet patch on his crotch. he placed his cup of coffee down. 

"fuck i just showered"

you couldn't help but let your eyes trail down his body. he was hard. and his neck was a shade of dark pink. It had only been an hour and the symptoms were already showing up.

minho disappeared into the room for what seemed like hours. you peeked into the room, mouth dropping open.

he was a complete wreck.

stroking his length at an inhumane pace. choked out moans leaving him. his eyes were shut and his head thrown back against the chair.

stepping inside, you creeped up on him. he didn't notice. that was until you dropped down on your knees infront of him. hands holding his knees in place.

"go away"b minho hissed out. you ignored him, swatting his hand off his dick.

"what are you doi-...aahhh" you took his entire length into your mouth. moaning at the taste of his precum. his fingers tangled into your hair, thrusting up. you gagged at how deep he went.

"i warned you." he gritted out and then you knew you couldn't back out. not like you even wanted to.

.

"min-" you were cut off by his hand.

"i'm going to fuck you right now"

"right here" vhe announced.

bending you over the kitchen counter. you gasped as he pushed into you in one swift motion. he was still hard and leaking. his cum seeped out of you.

your eyes rolling back, at the feeling of it dripping down the insides of your thighs.

"keep it all inside"

you clenched, trying to not let it run down your thighs. but he was so far deep inside your cunt, you couldn't think.

"fill you up. m' gonna breed you. make you take all of me"

"pathetic."

you couldn't help but cry from the overstimulation.

minho never spoke so much during sex. you were used to silence. it was mostly him groaning.

so hearing him say such filthy things made you submit to him completely. made you more compliant. you let him use you. fuck you. breed you. deepthroat you. anywhere. anytime during the day.

"whats wrong? my pretty dick in your slutty little pussy rendered you speechless?"

his fingers pushed your head down, against the ice cold counter. forcing you to stand on your tippy toes, your legs began to shake.

"gonna eat you ah- mark you u-up and show everyone you're mine. all mine."

minho let out in a breathy voice, nipping at your exposed skin. his teeth digging into you just hard enough to leave bruises.  running his tongue over your sensitive skin, to ease the soreness.

"aahhh-nng" you whined, spit rolling off the side of your mouth and onto the counter. you closed your eyes, focusing on him.

him railing you. his other hand intertwined with yours. his hot breath against your back. his thick muscular thighs caging you in. his high pitched moans. his silent praises as you took him so well.

so eagerly. so sweetly.

you were going to cum again for the fourth time. and minho had cum only once. or more like he couldn't cum any faster until he had tired himself out.

now you had finally understood why the doctor had said that.

maybe this was a good thing. he was the most alive he had ever been.

[roosterseresin]

ahh 1, 35, and/or 37 for buddie for the intimacy prompts! ❣️

ooooo ok palm kiss, running a finger down their spine, and smiling while kissing!!

It's clear that Buck is hurting when they get home. He's limping a bit when they get out of the truck, though he tries to hide it. Eddie knows what to look for, though: the quiet, the controlled breaths, the slightly sped up walk, the tension in his spine. His hands twitch with the desire to sling an arm around his waist and offer to carry some of his weight. Buck's weight is always something he's willing to shoulder; Buck's carried so much of Eddie's for so long.

The house is empty and quiet when they get inside. Chris is with Pepa, and they won't have to get him for a little while. The only evidence of the earthquake is in the kitchen: a forgotten water glass lies shattered on the tiles, the water long-since dried. Buck grabs the dustpan and brush and Eddie takes it from his hands immediately, cleaning it with the ease of a parent with bare feet in mind.

Buck sits on the island stool and sucks in a small, pained breath, and Eddie cracks right down the middle.

"You're hurting," he says, reaching for the ibuprofen in the cabinet.

Buck looks up from his phone. "Huh?"

"Was it the rescue or the zipline?"

Buck blinks at him. "No, it's-- I'm fine. Just tired."

Eddie hands him the bottle. "Here. Go shower first."

Nodding, Buck takes the meds and limps off towards the shower.

Eddie fixes them sandwiches while he waits, inhaling his and leaving Buck's on the coffee table for him. He even gives him an extra pickle. When he hears the shower turn off, and then the door to his their Buck's bedroom close, he heads for the shower, stripping his dirty clothes and washing the day away.

He finds Buck asleep on his stomach on the couch after, clad in an old pair of LAFD sweats that Eddie thinks might be his. His leg is splayed out awkwardly, and Eddie can't imagine that he's very comfortable.

With his arms under his head, the muscles of Buck's strong back are visible, and Eddie lets himself look, just for a minute. Allows himself to take in his broad shoulders, the short hair at the back of his skull, the taper of his waist, the bit of his hips that spills out over the waistband of his sweats. The line of his spine is straight and beautiful.

Crouching down beside him, Eddie traces his finger down the line, just gently, then rests his hand on Buck's shoulder. His skin is so warm.

Buck blinks one blue eye open, bleary with sleep. "Hm?"

"C'mon, bud," he says softly. "Come to bed."

Buck frowns. "It's your bed, I'm taking the couch."

"Nope. C'mon. We can share."

Eddie stands, extending a hand out. Buck takes it and Eddie helps him to his feet, but he doesn't let go. Buck's hand is warm, rough calluses brushing against Eddie's own. Hand in hand, Eddie leads Buck to the bedroom. The bed (Buck's bed) is still unmade from this morning, and Eddie climbs right in, grateful for Buck's obsession with high thread-count sheets. He turns on his side, curled towards the middle of the mattress.

For a moment, Buck stands on his side of the bed, looking uncertain

Eddie smiles at him a little. "Sooner you get in, the longer we can sleep, bud."

Buck gets in, mirroring Eddie on his side. His damp curls are messy, fanning out on the pillow when he lays his head on it. There's a sweet flush on his cheeks, and Eddie wonders if it's from the heat of the shower or something else. For a moment, they lay there in silence.

And then Buck reaches towards him, thumb brushing over Eddie's cheekbone. "You're bruising. Something hit you?"

Heat flares through Eddie where Buck's touching him, thumb on his cheekbone and other fingers resting on his jaw. His eyes flutter closed, and he turns his head into Buck's palm, pressing a soft kiss to his warm skin.

Buck's intake of breath is quiet, but Eddie hears it nonetheless. Eddie kisses his palm once more, then looks at him. Buck's eyes are wide and blue, his full mouth open in surprise.

"Eddie?" he asks, voice sounding small.

"Buck," Eddie says, muffled by his palm. Another kiss.

Buck pulls his hand away, brows knitting together. "Eddie, I don't--"

Eddie leans across the scant space between them and kisses Buck once, just a peck.

The surprise on Buck's face is sweet. It sends warmth through Eddie, and he leans forward and kisses him again, harder this time. Buck makes a little noise against his lips and puts a hand on his face again. Gently, so gently.

"Eddie," he murmurs. "Do you--"

"Yeah, Buck," Eddie whispers. "I do."

And then Buck is smiling, bright and beautiful, pulling Eddie in again. It's less of a kiss than a press of lips, since they're both smiling too hard for anything else. Eddie fits a hand to the dip of Buck's waist, pulling him in, in, in. He can hear Buck's breathing, and he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and he can feel something soft and warm settling in his chest.

[sdr2lovemail]

Saw your request open for reverse 1999! I not sure what characters you do but could you do smt like troop??idk what it call but basically 'someone ask them if you two are together despite havent establish relationships yet' for medicine pocket, dikke, and tooth fairy? What their reaction and response? If it too much you can cut it down sorry

Oblivious Encounters (GN Reader)

Synopsis: These lovely arcanists are in love and it's obvious to everyone but them.

Notes: I love oblivious pining, a wonderful trope. I'm still trying to get my footing with characters, but I will write for anyone, including NPCs! She/They pronouns are used for Medicine Pocket

Requests are open!

Medicine Pocket:

Parallel play. The act of being alone together. Some people find the best way to spend time with others is to do their own thing. 

Next to you, Medicine Pocket scribbles away in their notebook. Ever since the two of you had entered Vertin’s suitcase, her documenting has gotten way more intense. There wasn’t anyone here to dampen the experiments, so Medi was thriving.

You both sit at a table near the window, the setting sun providing just enough light. It had been a few hours since either of you had spoken, finding peace in the silence. Periodically, Med would slide their notebook over for you to read. They didn’t even want any comments on their work. She just wanted to ensure you were ready for the incoming info dump they would give you. What fun is telling someone about your experiments if they’re just going to be lost the whole time?

Amid the comfortable silence, breaking the serene atmosphere, was a shrill voice.

“No! The great Matilda is never wrong, and I will prove I am correct!” The bright-eyed girl was quick with her pace, making it over to the table in just a few strides. With one hand on the table, she leans in close. “How long has this courtship gone on?”

There’s an almost comedic pause.

“What?” Medicine Pocket cocked their head.

Matilda rests her hands on her hips, tilting her head with a sly smirk. “I know a relationship when I see one. But the question is how long it’s been going on.” 

It’s Medi’s turn to smirk as they respond before you can answer. “What amazing observational skills. Now tell me, just how did you figure us out?”

“Hmhmhm! Matilda always knows! And it was so obvious.” She laughed.

“Ohhh, was it now?” Medi smiled wide, those sharp teeth on display in a wolfish grin. As you are about to correct Matilda on your relationship, the scientist kicks you under the table, itching to see how this plays out.

“The note sharing, for one. You are so stingy when it comes to sharing. Those longing silences the two of you enjoy. The way you’re always together. There is no hiding it from me!” 

You can feel your face grow warmer. Was this romantic? Did people really think that you and Medicine Pocket are together? And was that actually a problem for you?

With a laugh, Medicine Pocket shrugged her shoulders. “Huh, I didn’t think we were that obvious. You figured us out, Matilda. We’ve been courting for a few months now. Obviously, I was the one to start it. They were too flustered even to look my way.” 

“Medicine Pocket!” You chastised, face flushing further.

“See, that’s my beloved, always so embarrassed.” Medi reached over the table to take your hand in her gloved ones.

“I knew it! Vertin owes me money!” The energetic girl ran off to find the others and her new source of cash.

Pulling your hand away from the smirking doctor, you let out a groan. “Why would you tell her that? She’s going to tell everyone.”

“I wanted to see what would happen. We are practically dating anyway.” They shrugged, acting way too nonchalant.

Dikke:

Dikke enjoyed gossip. Well, not just gossiping. She enjoyed listening to others talk about anything. Hearing people engage in idle chatter was an oddly calming pastime for her. However, she couldn’t say it was truthful when the talk of the suitcase was about her. 

“Wouldn’t you like to buy your love some diamonds? I have quite the assortment. Necklaces, rings, anything that is sure to charm your lady.” 

Oh, how that scammer’s voice irked Dikke. She was about to move, wanting to read somewhere quiet, but she heard another voice. One she held dearly.

“Oh, I’m sure the selection of diamonds is… lovely. But I don’t have anyone to give jewelry to.” You answered curiously, unsure of what she was talking about.

Tennant let out a chuckle, brushing her hand against your cheek. “There’s no need to be so coy. I know the judge has stolen your heart.” She knew Dikke was watching. She wanted to rile her up and get a reaction. It would be fun to watch someone so proper get a bit angry.

Dikke rises from her seat, walking over to you and Tennant with quick steps. Her face looks more than displeased. 

“Why hello there, judge. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Tennant smirked, knowing she got what she wanted.

Her gaze practically bore through the blond woman’s body. The grip on her sword unconsciously grows tighter. “Thou should watch what drivel leaves thine mouth.” 

“My, what harsh words. Calling your own relationship drivel.” Tennant runs a single finger down your arm with a borderline mocking frown. “I would never treat you that way, dear.”

It was quick. You barely saw when it happened. Dikke swiped the hand off you in an almost uncharacteristic act of jealousy. “Perhaps thou should mind thy own affairs.” Before there could even be a response, Dikke speaks once more. “Enough of this. Leave us.” 

Figuring there was no point in taunting her further, Tennant leaves. Not without dragging her hand along your back, wanting to give Dikke one last teasing parting gift.

“I’m so sorry about that, Dikke. You know how Tennant can be sometimes.” You apologized with a sheepish smile. While you felt like you were just seeing things, her cheeks seemed slightly pink.

With the pest out of her hair, Dikke’s eyes soften slightly. “Thou shouldn’t let rumors fester. Lest they form into something more sinister.” She bows her head towards you and departs, not to finish her book but to find you a present better than diamonds.

Tooth Fairy:

“There has been an incline of cavities at the Foundation. Perhaps I’ve been handing out too many toffees.” Tooth Fairy sighed as she shuffled through her examination papers. The corners of her lips tugged down in a near-invisible frown.

Walking over to her side of the medical wing, you lean over her shoulder, taking a peek. “I doubt it’s your toffees. The kids probably aren’t brushing as often as they say. I know they lie to me about where they get their scrapes and bruises.” 

“Was that a poor attempt at making me feel better?” If it were anyone else, they probably would’ve been hurt by that comment. However, as the Foundation’s current nurse, you spend a lot of your days with the dentist. You’ve learned to discern when she’s playing around from her usual tone.

You let out a puff of a laugh, lightly shoving her shoulder. “Speaking of toffee, you wouldn’t happen to have any on you, would you?” There’s a soft smile on your face as you hold out your hand.

There was a faint sound of squeaking leather as Tooth Fairy reached into her pocket. “You’ll be the one with cavities if I continue to spoil you with candies.” She hands you a sweet despite her words. Her gloved hand lingers on yours for a second too long, dainty fingers caressing your wrist as she presses the toffee into your palm.

“But you never say no.” You smiled while unwrapping the candy. After popping it into your mouth, you start to walk out of the office. “I have to go meet with Madam Z about some paperwork. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The way Tooth Fairy watched you leave was downright pining. Her gaze locked on the doorframe. Her eyes soon lower, seeing a certain silver-haired young lady.

“Excuse me, is the nurse here?”

“Hello, Ms. Vertin. I’m sorry, they just stepped out. Is there anything I can help you with?” Tooth Fairy asked as the small child sat on one of the medical beds.

Young Vertin casts her eyes to the floor, bringing a hand up to her head. “I’ve got a terrible headache. I wanted to ask for one of their remedies.”

Tooth Fairy smiled. It was the third time Vertin came complaining about a headache this week. She knew she just wanted sweets, but she couldn’t help but humor her once again. “Well, I happen to know where they keep their medicine.”

The dentist kneeled at your desk, opening the drawer to grab from your stash of lollipops.

“Are the two of you married?” Vertin asked, her head titling curiously.

Nearly dropping the lollipop, Tooth Fairy’s eyes widen a bit. It was an innocent question, but it still made her falter. “What makes you ask that?” Quickly regaining her composure, she hands Vertin the candy.

“When I read stories, the parents in the books act the way you do. They always spend time together and give each other gifts.” Vertin explained.

Tooth Fairy sits at her desk, watching the girl unwrap her sweet. “I see. No, we are not married. We are simply work acquaintances, nothing more.” 

Vertin nods before speaking again. “You two should get married. I could be the flower girl.”

“I… will have to discuss that with them. For now, you should be getting to class.” Tooth Fairy turned back towards her papers, hoping to hide her slightly flushed cheeks.

[briefalpacashark]

The Date

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“What in the blazes happened?” Price asked calmly his last nerve hanging on for dear life, as he examined the two in front of him. The yell that was received after many moments of silence.

“I DON'T KNOW!” you yelled back tears gathered in your eyes. You stood there. Drenched to the bone, knees all scraped up and a small section of your hair singed down to your shoulder. Simon's unconscious body lay sprawled on the ground, his feet tucked under your armpits having to drag him the rest of the way to your rooms. 

“We were sitting on the pier and there were these candles, then my hair caught fire and then Simon tried to put it out and then he tripped on the table somehow and we both fell in the ocean but Simon hit his head. He said he was fine but then he passed out on the way here and and,” you sucked in a snotty breath the realization hitting you.

“I RUINED MY FIRST FUCKING DATE, I KNOCKED THE FUCKEN UNCONUOIUSE! I MEAN WHO DOES THAT!?” you cried loudly. Jonny who had appeared with Gaz wasn't helping the situation having burst out in hysterical laughter. 

“SHUT UP!” You snapped at them only earring heavy laughter.

You sat in the med bay next to Simon's bed reading the report the other nurses had written up. Your knees had been patched up. And you had changed into some dry clothes. Simon had a slight concussion, nothing to worry about. But still. You looked up to his mask faced with a deep sigh. Trust you to wreck the first date. It had been going well until that moment. You were talking, laughing. You had seen Simon’s hand inching closer and closer to your own. 

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you grumbled dropping your head into your hands.

“Well, I wasn't going to say anything,” Simon's gruff voice had you snapping up moving to stand.

“Thank fuck your a’right,” his eyes cracked open to look up at you.

“It will take more than a lil hit to the head to stop me love,” he murmured.

“That's all it took. Nearly squashed me when you keeled over,” you muttered checking his vitals before shining a light in his eyes to check his response. He watched you fuss over him with the same funny feeling he always got when you looked after him. He debated briefly to lie about another ache or pain just to continue getting the same treatment.

“You would have caught me,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, I did. Tore up my knees doing so. You know how many weeks of teasing I'm going to cop cause of it. Jonny alone will make every dick sucking joke under the sun before noon, watch it happen,” you grumbled.

“Price already thinks it's a weird sex injury,” you muttered bashfully remembering the raised eyebrows you got with your explanation. 

“On the first date? Bit adventurous don't ya think?” you could see his smug face through the mask.

“Shut up,” you mumbled plonking down on the side of the bed. “You ok though?” you asked softly.

“I got to go on a date with the prettiest woman in the world. I'm fucken ecstatic,” he shrugged. You flushed, it was a new kwirk Simon had adopted. As if freed with his confession he had started to say the most out of pocket sweetest things. It shocked you to say the least.

“We need a crash cart. Full head scans!,” you called into the hall.

“Look at that, Docs blushing,” he mused. You cleared your throat returning to his gaze with a teasing smile.

“Some date it was,” you muttered, your expression falling slightly. He reached up, taking the burnt strands into his fingers. “Certainly was interesting,” he muttered. 

“You can say that again,” you huffed, an embarrassment crawling up the back of your neck. Yet before it could reach your head, it was stopped.

By Simon's hand that slipped onto the base of your cheek, his large hand being big enough to cup your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair. His thumb gently brushed your cheek bone. “It was the best first date I evea had,” he whispered. You loved the soft side of Simon. You really did. But it was still a shock to your system.

“You sure you're ok,” you playfully reached for his forehead. Only as you did Simon snatched your hand gently yanking you forward. Your chest fell onto his, your faces hovering inched from each other. You could have sworn you could feel Simon's heart beating twice as fast as yours. 

“Wanna hike my mask up for me love?” he asked his thumb to stroke the corner of your mouth, his thumb brushing your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your heart thumped in your chest as his other hand moved to your lower back to keep you propped against him.

“What for?” you asked with a blush that reached the tip of your ears.

“So I can kiss till ya knees buckle,” you could see that stupid grin through his mask. 

“Thought you were going t-to do it at the lookout?” you stammered.

“Well plans change,” he shrugged. “But a promise a promise,” he whispered in that dangerous low tone that challenged your very innocence. 

“Can you stop being so fucking sexy please? It's a lot,” you let out a shaky breath. He chuckled deeply, his laugh bouncing you top him slightly. He was laughing at you, in a moment like that. It was one of his amused laughs too.

“You're an ass,” you grumbled, your blush deepening.

“A sexy one apparently,” he whispered. 

“So you gonna lift my mask or do I have to do it myself?” he asked. You were about to respond when you both heard the role of an nurse stool. You both turned to the left where Jonny slid up to the bed, propping his elbow on the bed so his face was at a level with yours.

“I'll be more than happy to help LT,” he grinned. You dropped your face into Simon's chest officially passing away from embarrassment.

“Kill me now,” you begged.

“You know when we said look after her we didn't mean, let her beat you up,” Gaz strolled over to the other side of the bed plonking down on a chair to copy Jonny's position. 

“We shoulda given ye the talk instead of him,” Jonny smirked at you as you sat up Simon reluctantly letting you go.

If looks could kill Jonny would have been dead, cremated, buried, raised from the dead at least five times and killed all over again. That was what Simon wanted to do at that moment. 

“How long were you guys there for?” you whispered, hiding your mouth behind your clapsed hand.

“Long enough to hear you ever so nicely ask Simon to stop being sexy,” Jonny was having way to much fun.

“Don't worry. We didn't see any of the knee action,” Jonny winked at you. His attention was grabbed by Simon who reached over, tightly gripping his collar and pulling him down to his level.

“I’m going kill you. Get your affairs in order,” Ghost growled.

“Come now Simon, we were only making a wee joke. Ain't that right bonnie?” Jonny asked looking to you for help. The realization of the predicament washing away his amusement.

“Would you like to be buried or cremated?” you asked seriously.

After Simon was discharged you all walked out of the med bay, you side by side to Simon watching Jonny and Gaz replay your previous predicament. You had to say Jonny was going a bang up job acting as you.

“Oh Simon,” he pretended to swoon.

“I'm gonna kill them,” you whispered in promise.

“Not if I get them first?” Simon hissed.

“You can't get both of them. That's just being greedy,” you grumbled watching as Jonny dramatically fell into Gaz arms.

“I'll let ya have Gaz,” he suggested.

“Fair,” you shrugged in agreement.

“How are we doing it?” you asked.

“Knife obviously. No gun shot. Silent,” he said.

“True, but a lot of clean up. Could leave a blood trail,” you pointed out. 

“It's gonna rain soon,”he shrugged.

“And the bodies? We would have to drive them out of base,” you stated.

“Weigh the bodies down and chuck em in a lake,” Simon said.

“Sounds like a plan,” your agreement was followed by a short moment of silence that was broken by both of your chuckles.

“What a night huh,” you whispered.

“Not finished yet,” he whispered. Before you could ask what he meant a hand clasped around your waist pulling you into his side. His body bent over leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, his other hand holding his mask up. It was bliss, sweet and warm. It made your toe tips tingle. Pulling back your eyes that had fluttered close opened briefly catching a glimpse of the bottom of his face. His stubble sat on a sharp jaw line with scar’s poking out. One even pulled the left side of his mouth making his smile every so slightly crooked. The way he stared deeply into your eyes had you frozen. You stared back at him with the same such eyes. Both filled with admiration. 

“Well now I'm just disappointed,” you shrugged. He frowned, pulling his mask back down but didn't move from his position.

“Why's that?” he asked.

“Knees didn't buckle in the slightest,” you shrugged. The corner of his mask pulled up in his smirk. “Didn't know you'd want that sort of kiss in front of an audience,” he grinned. Your eyes shifted to the boys still stuck in there own little world having not noticed the kiss.

“You Simon are one hell of a sweet talker,” you whispered.

“Just for you love,” he whispered back, straightening up to continue walking, slipping his hand in yours. You smiled your whole body on cloud nine as he gently tugged you close.

In the end, you thought the night went pretty well.

“GHOST AND Y/N Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. AHHHHHHHH!” Jonny's high-pitched scream sounded as he sprinted off Ghost hot on his heels.

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=COD MASTER LIST HERE=

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[literary-lesbo]

Even in the Middle of the Night

MedWhump May Day 10: Next of kin Summary: Kara finds out Lena has been attacked. Word Count: ~900 a/n: due to technical errors there is no graphic :(

AO3

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“Lena! What happened, are you okay? Who did this to you?” Kara rambled, reaching out to take Lena’s hands as her eyes flew over the woman, cataloguing every injury in her racing mind. Lena smiled softly, her eyes full of sadness and anxiety.

The blonde had been awakened to the loud, repetitive ringing of her phone and had nearly bit the head off of the kind person on the other end who informed her that Lena had been attacked. After a lot of reassurance, Kara raced to the hospital, not even bothering to change out of her “normal clothes” before she jumped out of the window.

“I’m okay, just embarrassed. I didn’t see them coming.” She murmured, voice raw and heavy with bottled emotions. Of course it wouldn’t be right for her to cry now, the blinds were open, she could be seen. Not to mention all of the people hovering, she was somewhat of a celebrity around the medical staff. She had funded nearly half of the hospitals in the city after all.

“Embarrassed? Lena you got shot, Rao I'm just glad you’re okay. On the phone they said they want to keep you for a few days, do you need anything? Do you want some pajamas? A phone charger? Anything?” Kara was practically vibrating with anxiety, the crinkle in her forehead more prominent than Lena had ever seen it. Internally, Kara was beating herself up. One of the people she loved had been in danger and she hadn’t heard anything.

Supergirl had been useless in stopping Lena's attackers, what if they had been a little more accurate in their aim? Shot in the shoulder was one thing, but what if the bullet went in 8 inches to the left? Lena would have bled out there, on the balcony of her penthouse, alone, Supergirl nowhere to be found. Kara had been sleeping while Lena was being attacked.

“I’m okay. They gave me some pain meds, I’m not feeling much,” Lena let out a wry chuckle, looking away from the overeager blonde. Kara let out a breath, glancing around the room as she straightened up, letting go of Lena's hands. She was okay, she would be okay. Kara was here now, she could make sure that nothing else happened to her. The chances were high that the assassins would come back, Lena knew that, and Kara had no intention of leaving her alone.

“Are you sure Le? I can call Alex or J’onn, they’ll get whatever you need.” Lena seemed to perk up at this suggestion, one of her eyebrows twitching up slightly. She shifted in the small bed, wincing as she leaned a bit too heavily on her shoulder. The brief spike in her heart rate appeared on the monitor, but it settled out quickly.

“You…you’d stay?” The question was posed with such hesitancy that it nearly broke Kara's heart. Was she such a bad person that Lena assumed she would leave her alone in this? No, that wasn’t entirely fair. It wasn’t Lena’s fault she had never had anyone reliably in her corner.

“Lena. You just got shot. By assassins. Who tried to kill you. I am not leaving your side unless you make me. That out of the way, do you need anything? That gown doesn’t look super comfy, I can have Alex grab you at least some sweatpants. Maybe your laptop? I’m sure you have meetings to reschedule. Anything you need,” Kara prompted, taking her seat beside Lena’s bed. The brunette took a deep, shaky breath, the tears finally becoming evident in her eyes. She was more than a little shaken up, most of the attempts on her life didn’t get this far. Knowing that she had a literal superhero watching out for her was a massive relief.

“Um, yeah. Phone charger too please, mine’s dead. Could you draw the blinds?” Kara jumped up to do so, shutting the door for good measure before returning to Lena’s side. The brunette let out a small sob, covering her face with her good hand. Kara gently took the other hand, sitting in silence as Lena cried out her frustration and fear.

“Just take your time, when you’re ready I’ll text Alex to get your stuff. We can do whatever you want, I’m right here.” Kara soothed, brushing a piece of hair from her eyes. It took a few more minutes for Lena to calm down, the quiet sobs turning back into even breaths. When she looked up, her eyes were shining, but she looked visibly calmer. She seemed to have unclenched her jaw, she appeared exhausted.

“Can you just talk to me until I fall asleep?” Lena asked, laying her head back against the flat pillow. Kara nodded eagerly, shooting off a quick text to her sister. She was sure that Alex would see it despite the weird hours, that girl had a shit sleep schedule.

“What do you want to hear about?” Lena smiled, staring into Kara’s earnest blue eyes. She was so ready to do anything that Lena wanted, it was endearing. One of the many reasons she loved Kara so much.

“Anything. Supergirl, Catco, Alex, your lunch. I just want to hear your voice.” The blonde perked up, letting herself smile for real for the first time in days. She hadn’t seen Lena in a non-work capacity in a few days, circumstances aside she appreciated the chance to catch up.

Kara launched into a story about her latest saves as Supergirl, answering Lena’s few questions and feeling growing confidence as the brunette's eyes began to flutter. When the stories got boring she switched to her latest article, pleased when she got less questions on that one. Slowly but surely she was putting Lena to sleep, something that she would take as a compliment.

@medwhumpmay

[thisisa-stateofgrace]

[fic] Two is (Uneconomically) Better Than One

Rating: G Fandom: The Pitt (duh) Pairing: KingDon (duh) Chapter/s: 1/3 Notes: Yup, I'm down bad for this ship. This is a MED STUDENTS!AU fic where KingDon are med students looking for a side gig. AO3

Summary:

Frank just wanted the gig. Mel just wanted the extra cash. Neither expected to show up for the same dog.

Thanks to a well-meaning-but-deeply-disorganized married couple, two med students end up co-sitting a very particular spaniel named Crosby. He's got a schedule, a lot of opinions, and apparently, a matchmaking agenda.

Now there are leash handoffs, co-walks, shared fridge space—and possibly, feelings? Unclear. But Crosby’s thriving, so that’s something.

Chapter 1

Frank rushes into the living room, sweat trickling down from his forehead, panting and wheezing. He shouldn’t have done that - run from the ground floor up to the fifth of Dr. Robby’s building. But he doesn’t really have a choice. He prides himself as a punctual guy and with the building elevator broken in the most inopportune time, he had no choice but to take the sprint of faith. Frank wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead and settles down on the couch.

Something squeaks.

Frank jolts up and sees a girl sitting down on the couch. He apologizes - well, he tries to but again, he is catching his breath for dear life here. She tells him not to worry and scoots over on the three-person couch. She fixes her glasses and taps her fingers on her lap.

They sit in silence which Frank appreciates as tries to gulp in as much air as he could to regain a sense of normalcy. He notices an ID badge clipped onto the strap of the girl’s bag: University of Pittsburgh - School of Medicine. Apparently, they’re both med students.

“So, here’s the catch!” Dr. Robby bursts into the room, shattering Frank’s train of thought. His wife, Dr. Heather, trails behind him.

“Heather, here, apparently booked a dog-sitter without telling me…” Dr. Robby chuckles. Heather waves him off playfully.

“And Robby… also booked a dog-sitter without my knowledge.”

Oh, so she is another dog-sitter.

Crosby, a small spaniel, jumps onto the girl’s lap. She runs her hands through its fur. He looks extremely pleased with himself.

“But we’ve got a flight to catch,” Heather says, hooking her arm through Robby’s, “and this guy here misread the schedule, so we really have to go.”

“Doc—” Frank tries to interject, hoping to clarify who gets the dog-sitting gig (and the money). Crosby cannot have two dog-sitters. In this economy?

“I trust you guys can figure it out amongst yourselves. Only one of you, or both—up to you. Frank, Mel, we really need to go.” And with that, Robby and Heather disappear, leaving behind two med students and one smug-looking spaniel.

Frank assumes he’s the more senior one, so he stands and takes the lead. Best case: he gets the gig solo. Base case: he and Mel split it. Worst case: she gets it. And Frank really needs the cash.

“Hi, Mel. I’m Frank. Noticed we’re from the same med school. I’m in my last year. You?”

“I’m in my second,” she replies, still petting Crosby. The dog is now melting into her lap, fully committed to the belly rub.

“So... who’s staying? I, for one, should. I need the cash,” Frank says plainly.

“I actually need the money too,” Mel replies. At least it’s the base case scenario. Plus, it’s not like Frank’s the one being uneconomical by hiring two dog-sitters for one small dog.

Frank starts pacing, trying to work out a schedule that’ll work for both them—and for Crosby.

“So we should take him out for a walk or two, right? Then a meal? Then a bath? Then... maybe another walk?” He’s clearly spinning his wheels.

“Dr. Collins gave me a list and timetable,” Mel chirps, pulling a paper from her bag. Crosby hops off her lap. She hands the list to Frank.

He squints at it. Mel tries to sneak a look, but the height difference makes it awkward. She tiptoes. Frank notices, scoots down slightly to level with her. She points to some of the tasks on the page. “I can do this,” she says, then turns to look at him. Their faces are close. Frank’s eyes widen at the small distance and he pulls back.

“Yeah, sure!” he coughs, completely fake, then magnets himself toward the fridge and sticks the schedule there.

Frank stares off as Mel returns her attention to Crosby. That moment earlier felt... weird. He touches his cheek. He’s not warm. He’s just not used to people getting that close. Probably. Maybe.

The clock strikes two. Frank grabs Crosby’s leash and latches it onto his collar. “I’ll take him for a walk,” he tells Mel. He silently prays the elevator has been resurrected from the dead, because he’s not ready for round two of Mount Robby. As he steps out, he hears a loud howl. He peeks back. Crosby is sprawled on the floor, ears drooping dramatically.

“Crosby, boy. We need to go,” Frank says gently. Crosby sighs. Frank sighs. Crosby sighs harder. They go back and forth like this until Frank raises the white flag.

“Maybe he wants you to take him?” he says. Mel sets down a few of Crosby’s toys and walks over. Frank hands her the leash. Their fingers touch. He flinches. There’s a sharp little buzz, but Mel doesn’t react. Odd.

Crosby perks up immediately when Mel grabs the leash. He has a favorite. Frank walks them to the door and shuts it behind them. A second later: howling. Again.

Frank opens the door fast. Not ideal to rack up noise complaints under someone else’s name. “Crosby started crying when you closed the door. He won’t get on the elevator,” Mel explains. Crosby looks up at both of them, tail still, sighing like a moody teenager.

“We can’t both walk him,” Frank argues. Crosby howls louder.

Frank shushes him. Crosby doubles down.

Frank panics, gives up, closes the door behind him, and jogs after them.

The elevator dings open. They step inside.

“Guess we’re co-sitters now,” Mel says with a smile, pressing the Ground button. Her nose scrunches as she tries to keep her glasses from sliding. Frank takes an invisible gulp.

Crosby stares up at his two humans with big, doe-like eyes, tongue flopped out, tail wagging full-speed like a metronome.

Crosby probably planned this.

[pulisicsgirl]

not going anywhere - christian pulisic

summary: after Christian (and several others) notice how Y/N hasn't been herself for the last few weeks, he finally decides to confront her about how she's feeling

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, discussions of mental health and illness, mentions of meds, supportive Christian, hastily proofread

requested: no

notes: Hey there!! This has been sitting in my draft for probably 6 months and I wanted to put something out, so I tried to finish it and make it at least decent for y'all! I promise I'm trying to work on your requests and I have several halfway written, but I've just been struggling in the writing department all summer. Thanks for being patient with me! If this fic is a steaming pile of garbage... pretend you didn't read it

x

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Christian that you hadn’t been yourself lately.

Your relationship was fairly new, having only been together for a few months, but as attentive as Christian was, he recognized the little things that had shifted in your personality.

He noticed how when you smiled at someone, it never quite reached your eyes—the little wrinkles that usually appeared in the corners were absent. He noticed how when you laughed, as soon as you thought no one was looking, the grin on your face quickly faded, replaced by the absent and distant look that adorned your face so often recently.

He noticed that you would zone out far more often than usual, eyes unfocused as you stared at a distant point. When he caught you in this state, Christian would tangle his fingers with yours or gently place his hand on your thigh, drumming his fingers in an attempt to pull you back from wherever it was that you would drift off to.

He was concerned, to say the very least, but each time he tried to bring it up to you, you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, chalking it up to being tired or overworked.

It didn’t take long for others to notice the change, too. As a prominent member of the media department at Chelsea, you had a friendly relationship with many of the players. You were often on the training pitch or on the sidelines at games, snapping photos of the boys as they played. Often, you would mess around with them, cracking jokes and laughing along with them, but not recently.

The joking had been cut to a bare minimum, and you rarely interacted with them at all. You spent just enough time on the training fields to get the content you needed before leaving to work in your office, unseen for the rest of the day. Several of the boys had asked Christian about you. They missed you. But Christian didn’t know what to tell them.

Finally, Christian decided enough was enough. He would have to “corner” you in some way and get you to talk to him. He had wanted to let you have your space and respect your desire to not talk about the matter, but he could see the whole situation physically weighing on you, and he knew that if he continued to let you bottle it up inside, you were going to explode. He resolved that by the end of the day, he’d talk to you.

That night, you had come over so that the two of you could have dinner together. Most of the dinner was spent in silence, you lost in your own thoughts, and Christian trying to work up the nerve to ask what he needed to. He wasn’t sure how to approach this kind of conversation with you—the two of you hadn’t dealt with a situation like this yet in your relationship.

Once your plates were cleared, you stood in his kitchen, washing the dishes, despite Christian’s protest that he could do it later that night. He sat on the counter, wanting to still be in close proximity with you. His heart broke a little when he noticed that you weren’t humming like you always did when you cleaned.

You rinsed off the last dish, placing it on the drying rack with the others, and you were rinsing the leftover suds from the sink when you felt Christian’s arms slide around your waist. He pressed his chest to your back and rested his chin on your shoulder as you turned the sink off, drying your hands on a towel.

“Can we talk?” He spoke softly and placed a kiss onto your shoulder.

You felt your heart sink in your chest. You knew this conversation was coming, but you were hoping to postpone it as long as you possibly could. “Yeah, what’s up?” you tried to speak casually, downplaying the nervous feeling that had settled in your stomach.

“C’mere,” he whispered. You dropped the towel on the counter next to the sink as Christian pulled you to the side where he had been sitting before and turned you around in his arms. He placed his hand on your hips, lifting you to sit on the countertop.

For a moment, the two of you remained in silence. Christian stood between your legs, unsure of what to say first. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing the bare skin below your shorts soothingly. Your heart pounded so quickly in your chest that you swore he could hear it as he stood in front of you. You desperately tried to calm yourself, still determined to play things off if you could manage it.

“So… um, you… you haven’t really been yourself lately,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself for starting so poorly. “I just… I’ve noticed a lot of little things that seem different, and you don’t really seem… happy.” He glanced up at your face, trying to gauge your response. He felt a little guilty for being so direct with the situation, but he didn’t want to keep dancing around the problem.

You drew in a breath, but Christian spoke again before you could. “And please don’t tell me that you’ve been tired, because you keep saying that, but I think it goes beyond that.” The nervousness you felt only intensified, and now you felt slightly nauseous, knowing there was no easy way out of this conversation.

You brought one of your hands up to your mouth, biting at the skin by your nails. Christian recognized the nervous habit of yours and he saw how you used it to try to put space between you and him as a form of defense. He reached up and took your hand in his. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled your hand back into your lap and looked at your face with earnest concern.

You hesitated a moment longer, looking anywhere but at his face.  Sitting in front of him, your hands held in his, resting on your thighs, you had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. He stroked his thumb over your knuckles, squeezing your fingers in an attempt to pull you out of your thoughts and back to him.

The silence between the two of you was long and overwhelming as your head spun with wild thoughts. Did you continue trying to put a wall between you and tell him nothing was actually wrong? Or did you open up to him, tell him what was really happening, and run the risk of scaring him off?

“Come on, I can practically see you getting lost in there.” He poked your forehead gently with his free hand, laughing softly to try to relieve some of the tension in the air.

You glanced up at Christian’s face, and his gentle, reassuring smile brought tears to your eyes instantly. Looking back down at your lap so he couldn’t see you beginning to cry, you settled on trying your best to explain the thoughts that had been swimming around in your mind for the last couple of weeks.

“I don’t know, Christian, I just… kinda get this way sometimes.” You shrugged your shoulders. It didn’t make sense to most people, but it was the reality. “Nothing really happened. Everything is fine. You didn’t do anything. I just… I feel kinda hollow.”

Christian was relieved to hear that your pain hadn’t been cause by something he had done, having toyed with the idea as he wracked his brain for the last weeks, trying to think of what could have gone wrong to make you feel this way. But he still wasn’t sure he understood exactly what you were saying.

“I used to take meds for it, but I stopped taking them a little while after I graduated high school. They made me feel like I wasn’t really myself, and I didn’t want that anymore.” Your still fidgeted nervously as you opened up to him, but at the same time, the weight on your shoulders felt the tiniest bit lighter as you let Christian bear some of it with you.

Christian remained silent for a moment after you stopped talking, processing the things you had just told him He thought he was beginning to understand what you were saying, though your vague description left several questions swirling in his mind. He was happy, though, that you finally felt comfortable opening up to him, and he figured the finer details could wait until another day.

His silence, however, did nothing to calm your racing heart.

“So, I guess this is the part where you leave?” you whispered before you could even think about it, uneasy with how quiet the room had gotten. Your eyes were glued to your lap, and Christian’s hands froze at your words, where they had been smoothing over your knuckles, trying to soothe you.

“W-what?” he stuttered in surprise, heart sinking at the thought that you might be breaking up with him. When you finally looked up to his face, his eyes were wide, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He looked so hurt that you almost felt bad for saying it in the first place.

You took your hands from his as you began to pull away from him, picking at the edges of your fingernails, fixing your gaze downward again. “I’ve done this before, Christian,” you mumbled. “I get weird, you ask about it, and then once you find out that I can’t be fixed… you leave.” You sigh, having resigned yourself to the outcome that had played out in your life before. You sat there, feeling defeated, with your shoulders slumped.

A sniffle coming from him causes you to dart your eyes up to his face, and his eyes are misty as he fights back the tears that he can feel welling up in them.

“You really think that?” his voice quivers.

All you can muster is shrugging your shoulders. “That’s what everyone else did. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Your words shatter his heart into a million pieces. The pain of thinking you were ending your relationship vanished quickly, replaced with a new kind of pain at the realization of how you had been treated in your past.

As the first tears slipped down his cheeks, Christian pulled you into a tight hug, holing you as close to his body as he could muster as he buried his face in your neck. You felt the warm tears against your skin as you slowly returned the hug, caught off-guard by his actions.

Christian felt a bit silly. Here he was, crying on your shoulder after the things that you had just revealed to him, experiences that you’d had in your own life. He just couldn’t fathom that anyone could possibly treat you in such a way. You were the kindest, most gentle and caring woman he had ever known, and he truly believed that you deserved the world. Sure, it had been hard to see you in the state you had been in for the last few weeks, but he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to what you were. And it never would have even occurred to him to think of you as burdensome—to think that he needed to “fix” you in some way.

Christian drew back from the embrace, quickly wiping his eyes while he still held onto your waist with the other. You were caught a bit off-guard by his behavior, never having experienced this reaction before, and you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Christian breathed a soft “I’m sorry” before he looked back up at you, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, and you couldn’t help but lean into his comforting touch.

“Y/N, you are absolutely worth everything. It’s not a burden to be with you. You know that right?”

Tears quickly sprung to your own eyes at his words, and you cast your eyes back down to your lap. In an honest answer, you shook your head ‘no’. This was how you had always thought of yourself, and you constantly felt like you needed to be compensating your partner in some way for the things they had to put up with for your sake.

Christian’s other hand came to your cheek, holding your face gently so that you would look him in the eye.

“You’re not a burden Y/N,” he spoke softly, his eyes flicking over your face. His expression held a sort of desperation—aching to show you that he truly believed what he was saying. “You’re not, I promise. And I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life telling you that until you believe it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

‘…every day for the rest of my life…’

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you?

Marriage wasn’t something the two of you had really talked about yet, because your relationship was so new. But any time you thought about your future, you knew you wanted Christian to be in it. And knowing he felt the same way meant the world.

You felt Christian’s thumb brush across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. You could only stare at him, wondering to yourself how you had managed to find someone as perfect as him.

“I’ll always be here for you. Anything you need,” he smiled at you, feeling that he was finally getting through to you.

The only response you could muster was a soft, “okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

The relief Christian felt that he finally had some understanding of why you hadn’t been yourself over the last few weeks was nearly overwhelming. He pulled you toward him, pressing a firm kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Never doubt that.”

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic

[iwavroomiez]

contents; first year pre-med iwaizumi hajime, cursing (twice), fresher awkwardness, reader misses home </3, gender neutral reader, it is written in second person, so maybe don't read it if you don't like that? i'm definitely making this a series (maybe like a... three-parter or something. i don't think i'm committed enough for more than that). a/n; the last part in rb's because tumblr is homophobic :(

consider leaving a like or reblog, if you enjoyed ! (oh and a follow if you want to keep up with the rest of this) (PART 2 HERE)

After years of hard work, some tears, and tasking exams, you'd made it — you were at your dream college. Your parents had dropped you off, earlier today and now you were laying on the hard mattress in your new dorm. Your heart constricted at you stared up at the ceiling, you were going to live away from your family and friends forever now... Before you knew it, you had tears in your eyes. You immediately got up, ignoring the throbbing in your temples from getting up so quick. Exhaling, you walked to the kitchen as your prepared yourself a cup of coffee. Clearly, you needed a reason to stop moping and start getting used to the thrill of college life. Someone did mention something about a freshers party at the local club...

That's how you ended up here, at the local club 'x-tasy' as the people around here call it... Looking at it, it was likely just an excuse for people to get it on with each other, find new hookups and all that jazz. You walk to the bar, and ask for a glass of warm water (your throat was sore from the crying earlier) — that's when you see him. A guy (likely a fresher too) who had a few inches on you and beautiful caramel skin that matched his green eyes. You subtly smile without realizing, and he turns to look at you. fuck. busted. He raises an amused brow, chuckling. You sit down at the bar and start sipping your warm water, you feel someone sit next to you. You turn to see him again, was this a sign? The tall guy grins at you, "hi!" he says with a smile. You return it with a smile of your own, "hey." It comes out a bit breathless, clearly you were excited to be talking to him, you hope he doesn't notice. "Pre-med?" he asks with a hum. You force yourself to get out of your dreams and reply, "ahh no, psych." He nods, "that's nice. My roommate's a psych major." You don't know what to say, so you smile and nod, "ahh.. haha nice..." What an awkward mess... He goes back to take a sip of his drink (an apple juice, you note), and he exhales. He looks back at you, "My name's Iwaizumi, my friends call me Iwa," he smiles. "Lovely to meet you, Iwa," you smile back before telling him your name. "Oh that's a lovely name, is there a story behind it or something?" he asked. If you had a penny for every time someone used that as a conversation starter today, you'd have seven pennies exact. You sigh before chuckling, "I'm completely fine with the silence, I won't think you're like... awkward or anything. I'm guessing you've been asked that all day to keep the conversation flowing, huh?" you chuckle. You can see a certain familiarity in his eyes before he laughs, "Yeah, I just didn't want you to think I was like... being a creep by sitting here or something. Been trying to socialize a bit, get to know people." You nod, you had pretty much the same story, "yeah, same here. You're an on-campus student, I'm guessing? I mean, you mentioned a roommate, so..." He nods, "Yeah, on-campus. Parents dropped me off today, some pretty hardcore shit, y'know." You wince at the unnecessary use of profanity. Ew. Was he that kinda' guy? He did seem nice so far though, it'd be a shame to judge him based off of only this one thing... "Yeah, same here, my parents dropped me off and I've been moping all day," you chuckle, taking another sip of your now-lukewarm water. You sigh, "Alright, well," you get up, "I better get going, it's like... eight and curfew is in an hour.. so," you hum. He gets up as well, nodding, "yeah, see you around," he smiles. You nod, smiling. As you make your way through the crowd and reach the exit, you finally take a breath of fresh air. You subtly smile as you think about Iwa, he seemed nice. Maybe you had a tiny crush on him, but in the way that you'd have a hallway crush on someone. You'd noticed his biceps, pretty cool stuff, he probably worked out a lot. As you walked to your dorm, you wrapped your jacket around yourself a little tighter, it was so cold outside...

That's how you ended up here, at the local club 'x-tasy' as the people around here call it... Looking at it, it was likely just an excuse for people to get it on with each other, find new hookups and all that jazz. You walk to the bar, and ask for a glass of warm water (your throat was sore from the crying earlier) — that's when you see him. A guy (likely a fresher too) who had a few inches on you and beautiful caramel skin that matched his green eyes. You subtly smile without realizing, and he turns to look at you. fuck. busted. He raises an amused brow, chuckling. You sit down at the bar and start sipping your warm water, you feel someone sit next to you. You turn to see him again, was this a sign? The tall guy grins at you, "hi!" he says with a smile. You return it with a smile of your own, "hey." It comes out a bit breathless, clearly you were excited to be talking to him, you hope he doesn't notice. "Pre-med?" he asks with a hum. You force yourself to get out of your dreams and reply, "ahh no, psych." He nods, "that's nice. My roommate's a psych major." You don't know what to say, so you smile and nod, "ahh.. haha nice..." What an awkward mess... He goes back to take a sip of his drink (an apple juice, you note), and he exhales. He looks back at you, "My name's Iwaizumi, my friends call me Iwa," he smiles. "Lovely to meet you, Iwa," you smile back before telling him your name. "Oh that's a lovely name, is there a story behind it or something?" he asked. If you had a penny for every time someone used that as a conversation starter today, you'd have seven pennies exact. You sigh before chuckling, "I'm completely fine with the silence, I won't think you're like... awkward or anything. I'm guessing you've been asked that all day to keep the conversation flowing, huh?" you chuckle. You can see a certain familiarity in his eyes before he laughs, "Yeah, I just didn't want you to think I was like... being a creep by sitting here or something. Been trying to socialize a bit, get to know people." You nod, you had pretty much the same story, "yeah, same here. You're an on-campus student, I'm guessing? I mean, you mentioned a roommate, so..." He nods, "Yeah, on-campus. Parents dropped me off today, some pretty hardcore shit, y'know." You wince at the unnecessary use of profanity. Ew. Was he that kinda' guy? He did seem nice so far though, it'd be a shame to judge him based off of only this one thing... "Yeah, same here, my parents dropped me off and I've been moping all day," you chuckle, taking another sip of your now-lukewarm water. You sigh, "Alright, well," you get up, "I better get going, it's like... eight and curfew is in an hour.. so," you hum. He gets up as well, nodding, "yeah, see you around," he smiles. You nod, smiling. As you make your way through the crowd and reach the exit, you finally take a breath of fresh air. You subtly smile as you think about Iwa, he seemed nice. Maybe you had a tiny crush on him, but in the way that you'd have a hallway crush on someone. You'd noticed his biceps, pretty cool stuff, he probably worked out a lot. As you walked to your dorm, you wrapped your jacket around yourself a little tighter, it was so cold outside...

IWAVROOMIEZ © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[writing-whump]

A place to land

Part 3 of the sick on the train series. Super short fluffy conclusion.

"Well, damn." Dylan threw their bags on the bed, looking around the room.

It was a small airport hotel, but it had a good parking spot and lots of rooms for lots of people. And it was outside the city, so they weren't on anyone's territory yet, but close enough to get in anytime.

"We got a pretty cool room. Wanna push the beds together? We'll have more space that way."

Rip wasn't sure if Dylan said it, so they wouldn't feel awkward about cuddling. So Rip wouldn't feel awkward, really. Dylan didn't mind stuff like that.

Not having much energy, Rip wobbled towards the closest bed while Dylan moved the other one to his. "There. All set up."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Rip stared at the floor. The meds Dylan got him worked, but they made him sleep the whole ride through.

His head still hurt, but it was a dull kind of pain that went away whenever he closed his eyes—so thankfully no full-blown migraine.

He struggled to shake off the drowsiness though. Not keeping anything down for 12 hours aside a bit of water probably didn't help.

"This was a mistake," Rip heard himself say.

"I'm gonna go check the other rooms- wait, what?"

"This." Rip waved at the room around them. "I shouldn't have come. I'll just go back, that will solve things. I'm so sorry-"

"Hold on—what are you on about?" Dylan stepped closer, confused. Like he genuinely had no idea. Like he hadn't been thinking the same thing.

Rip stared at Dylan's feet, not daring to look up. "You have worked so hard to bring me over here and I'm sorry I'm gonna waste that-"

Dylan didn't let him finish. "You are literally not making any sense."

The black haired wolf grid his teeth, jumping to his feet. "I'm ruining this, okay?! I got sick on the ride-

"We have meds for that!"

"I get motion sick, Dylan." Did he really have to spell it out? "On a fucking road trip. I'm here as backup and I will just be sleepy from the meds. I'm completely useless here, I have no fucking right..." his voice cracked and he looked back down, chest heaving with harsh breaths.

There was a silence that confirmed it.

Then Rip felt warm hands on his cheeks. Gently guiding his chin up.

Dylan held his face in his hands, eyes glittering with emotion. "Nonsense. You get a bit carsick, so what? You can sleep through the way and walk it off later. This is a vacation, Rip, not a drill. You don't have to be some useful soldier to earn your place here or whatever this is about."

His throat was too tight again. He still felt so messed up, so fragile. Like a light movement, a knock, could break him apart.

"It's okay. Shit happens, it's not like anyone minds. My mom gets motion sick too. My dad's ankle gives out after an hour of walking. Heck, even Sel needs to pee every minute on a trip, so what? Didn't stop us taking her with us everywhere." Dylan's fingers gently thumbed Rip's cheeks. "It's not such a big deal."

A choked-up noise at the back of his throat was all Rip managed for a reply.

"It's really not," Dylan repeated, ducking his head to catch Rip's eyes. "You are tired from the hell ride, I get it. But this is a not a disqualification reason, okay?" His eyebrows drew together. "Is this about what Hector said? He was such an asshole on the train, I'm telling you."

Rip shrugged. "It's not on him. Hector is always an asshole, I don't think that's particular to me."

"Honestly, if anyone should fuck off back home, it's Hector," Dylan continued. "Who invited him again?"

"He had a point," Rip said, lowering his eyes again. What right did he have, being on the receiving end of such gentleness? "I should be stronger than this. I shouldn't be getting all knocked out by carsickness, I've been through worse, it wasn't-"

"Wasn't what?" Dylan cut in, eyebrows raising. "Serious enough? Cause what, you are only allowed to be in pain if it's a silver knife to the back?"

Rip couldn't nod, still trapped in Dylan's soft hold.

"That's such bullshit," Dylan seethed. "You never applied that logic to me, why should you be any different? Pain is pain, if it's hurting you, I don't care about the reason. Who is even judging that—you? The city council? Other wolves?"

This was part of the problem and part of the beauty. How Dylan didn't understand Hector's behavior at all. Why he didn't understand why Isaiah choosing him was such a big deal.

Because when wolves looked at Rip—his scars, his missing last name, his history—all they saw was a stray. A failed wolf, cast out, abandoned, deserving of nothing but scraps if not outright dying, cause he was just garbage on the streets, messing up their view.

Because a stray must have done something wrong. Must have been kicked out for a good reason: unmanageable shadow, bad temper, refusal to learn. Wrong personality. Tendencies towards madness.

That's how most of them ended up, if they didn't starve or weren't torn to pieces.

But Dylan never saw a stray. Probably didn't know what it meant. If he did, he would probably still think they're cool.

"Can't you see how wrong that thinking is?" Dylan said, his tone much softer now. As if he could catch on to some of the thoughts in Rip's head.

It didn't really matter what Rip thought. Until now, it simply was, a fact and order of the world. It didn't matter if it was unfair or how anyone felt about it.

Not until Isaiah. His first move as newly active Executioner was to make a stray his apprentice. Teaching him Big Three techniques of old wolf packs— techniques a regular wolf would never get to watch, not to mention learn.

And it was working.

Rip wouldn't be able to put the system into words yet, but it was there. It made him wonder if anyone with this training could get over a bad-tempered shadow.

If wolves would stop going mad if they knew how to connect and train with their shadows like this.

What if Rip could really get over it? What if he could learn this...use it against the wolves who would have seen him killed for their own safety...even crazier, what if he could share it with the others?

His chest was hurting again in a mix of grief and hope and regret and all kinds of confusing crap he couldn't decipher. His shadow was wiggling on the ground, swishing from side to side like a tail of an angry cat.

"I'm...I'm sorry, D," Rip said quietly. "I don't know what's wrong with me today. I swear I'm gonna be better tom-"

Dylan grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Usually the taller boy would have been more careful about sudden movements with Rip, but they have been practically glued to each other on the train anyway.

And Rip didn't know the hole in his ribcage could be mended by touch.

Dylan's strong grip, his warmth, his scent, his heart against Rip's...Rip couldn't help but melt into the hold, wrapping his arms around Dylan just as strongly.

"Tomorrow will be better. Just stay," Dylan said, cupping the back of Rip's head with his hand. "Don't think you're gonna go anywhere without me."

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 65

First / Previous / Next

The cessation of the intense pain and sensation from the Nanite battle was like a clanging silence when Fen woke up on the ground. She sat up and looked around at the ancient K'laxi forest she's seen so many times before.

"Ma!" Fen stood up and started running. The direction didn't seem to matter in this kind of place before, so she didn't pay attention to where she was running. It was the running that was important. "Ma! Where are you?" Fen hears a noise and turns automatically to track it, and she runs headlong into a branch on a low tree.

Flat on her back, she stares up at the canopy. Funny, it doesn't really hurt here. She felt her head hit the branch, and she was knocked onto the ground, but it doesn't hurt. A familiar K'laxi looks down at her worried. "Fen? What's wrong?"

She sits up quickly. "Ma! I'm in trouble. Han'iel has started a coup and his lab developed their own Nanites and they are attacking the Nanites I have and, and, and he said he doesn't know you." Tears flow down Fen's cheeks as the words rush out of her.

"Han'iel? I never met Han'iel. I never met anyone on your lab team. I wa-"

Fen came back in a room, hugged by Gord. Along with that, the pain rushed back. The searing, white hot pain caused her to whimper quietly. A woman - that's Chloe, Fen thought - sat in a command chair and regarded them. "Welcome back. I see you are none the worse for wear." Through the pain, Fen noticed she was speaking through the ships comm. Why?

"Chloe, something's wrong with Fen, I'm taking her to Med." Gord scooped her up and carried her down the hall, still wearing his large black pack on his back. "Talk to me Fen, what did they do to you?"

"Han'iel made his own... Nanites... they're fighting mine." Talking was hard. It hurt so much. "He said he released thousands of beacons."

"That he did Fen, we saw them leave. Whatever he wanted to say has been said to every nook and cranny of known space. Do you know what he was doing?"

"He said my reign was over, that the... empire only controlled Sol again." She winced. "He also said that he had the Sefs, the Gren, and others on his side. He made it sound like all the K'laxi are with him."

"Now that I doubt. The K'laxi were never a monolithic bloc. The Sefigans and Gren aren't either. There is infighting and factions same as anywhere. I bet his support isn't as large as he is making it sound." The door to Medical slid open as Gord rushed in. He gently placed Fen onto a table and automated arms slid down from the ceiling and started to run their scans over her. Gord read the readouts and frowned. "Body temperature high, but you don't have other signs of a fever, no infection, no inflammation. It must be the nanomachines fighting."

"Gord, I'm scared." Fen gasped. "Everything I know about the Nanites says that if they die, I die." She stared up at the ceiling. "I thought that I'd be happy when I was finally dying." She flicked her eyes to Gord. "I'd get to be with Ma again. But no, I want to live Gord. Can you help me?" Fen started shaking. "Please Gord, help."

"I'm trying kiddo, I'm trying." Gord snapped a mono over one of his eyes, and took over control of a few of the arms over the med table. Immedieatly they started moving more surely, with less hesitation. "It's been a while since I've done nano scale surgery, but let's hope it's like riding a bike. Chloe!"

"Yes Gord?" Chloe's voice over the intercom was calm, almost detached. Fen actually marveled that she felt better that Chloe wasn't panicking.

"Interface here, and let me some of your processing. I'm trying to find out how a war is going while it's being fought, in Fen, at nearly a quantum level. It's tricky."

"Yes Gord, millisec." Gord continued to manipulate the arms as another set dropped down. Chloe probably. One of them had a needle on the end, and it slid into Fen's neck. "Sorry Fen, you won't be awake for this one." Gord said, as she lost consciousness.

Fen was in her kitchen. Her old one, back on the station in the refugee block. There was a pot of tea on the table and three mugs. Sitting at the table was Ma-ren, looking like she did when she was alive; blue coveralls, her hair brushed but otherwise unadorned, her silver earrings shaking slightly as she moved her head. "Hey Fen, come have some tea" she said, smiling warmly; as she smiled her ears flicked and the earrings jangled just a bit. "It's some Chamomile from Earth, Da'reni managed to find some."

Fen sank into the chair opposite her wife and took a sip. It was hot, but not scalding, sweet, but not overpowering, floral without tasting vegetative. It was perfect. "This might be a dream, or hallucination, or whatever-" she said, sighing, "but that is a good cup of tea."

"We're glad you like it, Fen." said a third voice. Walking out of the shadows was a... being. They were bipedal, with two arms and two legs, but their bodies were covered in a coarse fur, more like a sheep than the soft, pettable fur of the K'axi. Around their shoulder area, the fur was long and braided with beads and jems, covering their shoulder like a shawl. Their heads were wide and soft, with large wet eyes, and a small nose. They sat in the chair on the end of the table and took the third cup of tea. They breathed in the steam, sighing contentedly. "You know, I think this is the first time in a million solar cycles at least since we've had something to drink. It's quite... nostalgic."

Fen watched them drink, thinking furiously. "You're... what the Nanites looked like before..."

"Before we submitted to assimilation, yes." They moved their shoulders in a sort of half shrug that Fen immediately knew was their version of a nod.

"I'm asleep then, dreaming." Fen took another sip of her tea.

"More like unconscious. Chloe gave you quite a strong dose of sedative. Right now she and Gord are working to save your life while I battle Han'iel's own Nanites." They made a sour face. "The war isn't going as well as I had hopped."

"Why is Ma here?" Fen gestured to Ma-ren who waggled her ears.

"For comfort, mostly. She is... a memory." They put the tea down. "Names are important. You can call me Vel."

"Is it your name?"

"It was a name. Remember, we have been one for longer than you've had metal. Longer than you've had language." Vel rumbled a chuckle. "It's as good a name as any. We like it."

"Okay Vel, why am I here? You clearly want to talk to me, even though we can do it at anytime."

That same half shrug. "We have the time. Gord and Chloe will be working on you a while yet." Their fur rippled twice. "You might even survive. As much as we talk, you wouldn't have been the first to survive our removal, though you will be the first to survive our removal this quickly. Usually the process takes years." They took another sip of tea. "Fen, what happens to humans when they go through a wormhole link?"

Fen blinked. This was unexpected. "For the majority of us, nothing. For about 1 in 100, it feels like we die. We visit-" she waved her hands "-somewhere else, and sometimes we talk with people who may or may not be our ancestors. Nobody is really sure, and we don't really have any way of proving it. Some people think it's a hallucination."

"Humans are still religious, are they not? We know the K'laxi are."

"Some are, yes," Fen said, carefully.

"So finding out that something happens after you die, must have caused a stir."

"I don't really know Vel, I grew up outside of humanity, remember?" Fen's lips were pressed tightly together and she took another sip of tea to avoid speaking.

"Yes yes. I was trying a roundabout way to get to my point, but I see that you're not interested in a philosophical discussion. Fen, who do you see when you link? We know something happens to you, but we are not privy to what. As far as we are able to discern, there is no time difference from entering the wormhole to exiting."

So they never did figure out what was going on. Fen's shoulders relaxed as she released the tension she didn't realize she was holding. Han'iel has begun his coup and her body is fighting for its life as the Nanites fight, no sense in lying now. "I would see Ma-ren. When I realized that you didn't 'come with me' when I linked, I told her and she said she'd work on a plan to free me. I didn't know the plan so you wouldn't know it. She... did something to my memories. Locked them away until a key phrase was spoken."

"Well that proves that it's not a hallucination then, doesn't it? Something happens to you when you die."

"Ugh, you haven't met everyone. I'm sure there are a ton of humans who would say that's no proof at all. That we can trick ourselves quite well." Fen leaned back in her chair. As she did, it became her couch from the apartment. Vel was sitting across from her in Ma's favorite chair. Ma herself was gone. Fen had a twinge of regret at that. It just reinforced she was just a memory. It was odd how... easy it was to talk to Vel. When they were the Nanites in her head they were much more demanding, more authoritative. Here, Vel was just another person, albeit a representation of a long dead group of people whose decedents live as a collective of nanotechnology... things. Whatever. It was easier to talk to Vel, and that worried Fen. "Vel, I worry that you're going to try and talk me into being Empress again. I'm not going to do that. I never wanted to do that, and I won't do it again."

"Fen, I don't think you realize how good you were at being Empress. It's not an easy job. You were able to juggle your own wants with the needs of the Empire with our desire to increase the Gate system. You installed more Gates than all of the previous human Empresses." Vel's voice had odd harmonics; it was like they were speaking partially by vibrating something on their body. Still, even though the interesting way of speaking, they sounded impressed.

"You only want me to be Empress so you have someone to build Gates so you can hunt for energy, for food. That's why you wanted to come to the white hole so badly."

"Yes, that is true."

"So? You're here. I brought you." She gestured with her mug out of the window of her living room. "Go, do your thing to the white hole. Disconnect yourselves from us, leave."

"They don't want to leave Fen, you know that." Ma-ren walked into the living room and sat next to Fen. She tried to snuggle up, but Fen's shoulder and arm shot back as if she was shot. "You're not Ma."

"No, she was recent in your memories, easier to assume her shape. We're the others..."

"Han'iel's Nanites." Fen stared hard at Ma. It was a very good projection, but it was made on her memories, so Fen assumed it was as good as she remembered her. "It's getting crowded in here. What do you want?"

Ma shrugged. "The same thing as you, we assume. We want the other Nanites ejected from the galaxy, and left to do things our own way."

"With you in charge instead of them."

"Not... exactly." Not-Ma sat up. "It's more complicated than that Fen, you know this. You can't undo what's been done, and you can't unlearn what's been learned, but you can do better next time. Han'iel thinks that's what we'll be. an iteration."

Fen narrowed her eyes. "Han'iel sounds like he wants a turn ruling the galaxy last time we spoke."

Not-Ma waved her hand dismissively. "What he wants and what he'll get can be different things. We're new, but we're smart. We had to be in order to survive. We don't think Han'iel will be ruler of anything in a short amount of time. His support is much more tenuous than he makes it sound."

"How can you know that? You were activated in front of me."

Not-Ma laughed. It was odd. It sounded like a mix of human and K'laxi laughter. "You think that was the first time we were activated? Han'iel just has a flair for the dramatic. We've been online and active for more than a year. We've had time to learn about the galaxy." Not-Ma stood and patted Fen's shoulder. "Don't worry. These folks-" she gestured towards Vel "-aren't long for this galaxy. We're the new game in town."

"Don't be so sure. The battle is not the war. We've been at this much longer than you." Vel said, frowning.

"You're so sure? Come on then, let's see who wins!" Not-Ma walked up to Vel, and placed her small hands on either side of their head, and before anyone could react, snapped their neck.

[spennsrs]

Hi~

Anon with the Spencer request, thank you so much it was amazing, I loved it ❤️

Would love to see a 2nd part of it :))

TYPE OF WRITING: friends to lovers drabble CONTENT CREATOR(S): spencer agnew of smosh SONG REC: like or like like by miniature tigers / i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys MARNIE'S NOTE: I KNOW THIS IS LATE BUT !!! its here ..... spence fluff pt 2 baybie !!! also this takes place about a month after the first part, and takes more of a look in spencer's mind! tw for mentions of periods & pain meds !

♡ ༘*.ﾟ this was a bad idea, this was such a bad idea.

this was absolutely not planned out... but a lot of what spencer did around [y/n] wasn't planned. they made his mind short circuit and his heart beat out of his chest.

he had decided on a whim to go home early, not really knowing where he was going. next thing he knew, he was in his car and found his way at [y/n]'s apartment building. well, while i'm here... might as well pay them a visit... he thinks as he headed upstairs, hence where he was now, standing in front of their door and hand outstretched as if to knock.

he hadn't really... told them he was coming, and the regret was really catching up with him. he knew they were home, they told him they were home earlier...

he took a minute before finally coming to a decision, knocking on the door. except... he fucking ran away.

like an absolute child, spencer agnew ran to his car. he basically ding dong ditched them.

he quickly headed down the stairs before getting into his car, his heart beating rapidly. his eyes close as he sits there with shaky hands resting on the steering wheel.

he didn't even want to think about what they looked like opening the door. how confused they probably looked, how their nose probably scrunched up as they looked around. spencer, stop daydreaming... he could practically hear [y/n] playfully scolding him. with a nervous swallow, he buckles in and goes to start his car, but something held him back. he grabs his phone and unlocks it, going straight for his messages with [y/n]. he quickly texts them, hands trembling.

to: [y/n]💕 ' hey, you good with me coming over? ' ' i'm bored and require attention from my favorite idiot ' ' i mean best friend '

it takes them a bit before responding.

from: [y/n]💕 ' yeah ' ' just a heads up ' ' i'm not in the best mood ' ' but maybe a visit from my favorite moron will help me '

spencer instantly frowned before unbuckling and getting out. forgetting about his little... ditch he did, he rushes up the stairs, albeit a bit clumsily, before he reaches their door. he reaches his hand out to knock, and it came back... the fucking ding dong ditch.

wait- since when did he ever knock?

as soon as [y/n] gave him a key to their apartment, that was the way to go. fishing out his keys from his pocket, spencer rummages through the keys before inserting the right one into the lock, unlocking and entering.

"[y/n]?"

he hears a very faint grunt from their room, and he drops his keys on the counter in the kitchen, ditches his shoes, and heads to the room. spencer peeks his head through the door to see a bundle of blankets on the bed, which most likely held his best friend. he can't help the soft smile that tugs at his lips as he heads in, sitting on the edge of the bed as he gently rests his hand on top of the bundle. "hey... your favorite moron is here to help you out." he says softly as the blankets rustle, a head poking out from them.

there was silence for a moment before spencer was tugged to lay down, the smaller frame holding onto him.

oh.

in an instant, it was all clear. [y/n] was on their period.

his arms come around the other, holding them close with a sigh as his hand runs through their hair slowly. he remains quiet as he holds them close, and he feels his t-shirt begin to dampen. where they crying..? "hey, hey... shh, i'm here, [y/n]. it's okay... do i need to grab some pain meds for you?" he asks softly as he angles his head to look at them.

they shake their head as their grip tightens around him, keeping him close.

"gotcha... i'll stay right here then." spencer hums as he adjusts to get a bit more comfortable, pressing a hesitant kiss to their head.

silence... but not an awkward silence. it was comfortable.

until there wasn't silence.

"i love you, spencer. thank you for coming over..." spencer could feel his heartbeat skyrocket, and his breath catches in his throat. "you know... you aren't just my best friend- you're my everything, my rock. you've been here for me through so much... i-i'm sorry for springing this up on you-"

without thinking, spencer tilts their head up to press a soft kiss to their forehead, then their lips. he pulls away and gazes down at them with a soft smile.

"there's no need to thank me... i'm always here for you, and i always will be here for you. i... i love you too." it felt like a weight was lifted from his chest as he spoke those words, gazing at them. they smile a bit before snuggling close. "i'm head over heels for you, [y/n]..." he murmurs as he gives their body a gentle squeeze.

they sigh happily and close their eyes, soon falling asleep. he could feel their breathing even out as they fall asleep, and couldn't beat the smile on his face.

this... might've been a dream, but he didn't want to wake up. soon, he was asleep as well, falling into the best slumber he's had in a while.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

as the morning light floods through the cracks of the curtains, spencer stirs a bit with a grumble. he blinks his eyes a few times before looking around, then looking down at [y/n] in his arms. he can't help the wide smile that tugs at his lips, sighing a bit. he brings them clsoer and brushes hair from their face.

he could stay in this moment forever... but then their eyes begin to stir a bit, opening slowly.

"good morning, love...." spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper as he spoke, his fingertips ghosting over their jaw. "did you sleep well? how are you feeling?"

they take a moment before responding, rubbing their eye. "a bit... i slept really well though. the best i've slept in a while.. although if the whole period thing was gone, i would enjoy it a lot more."

spencer laughs softly before pressing a kiss to their forehead, which makes them giggle. "i know, love... want to stay in bed for a bit, before i make breakfast for you?" he asks, twirling some of their hair around his fingers.

"breakfast.. in bed? you don't need to.."

"but i want to." he says softly as he presses their foreheads together. "its what i want to do... i want to do everything for you, [y/n]. i wanna be yours, all yours..." he mutters softly, pressing a kiss to their nose.

he loves the blush that creeps onto their cheeks, chuckling softly.

"i love you so much, [y/n]. please, let me show you how long i've adored you."

"i love you too, spencer."

[212-apricity]

1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

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conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

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y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

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ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!