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sangunary · 5 days ago

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very random but batfamily with a reader that just favors Tim. They have a whole space under his desk and everything. Eats his snacks, drinks his sodas, ect. Refuses to bond with anyone else, Tim and Reader might as well be conjoined twins. This can be normal batfamily or yandere batfamily it's completely up to you!<3

Batfam x Child Reader! (Platonic)

SYPNOSIS: Your family thought they adopted you, turns out you adopted only one of them.

IMP: PLATONIC, Reader is a child.

It was supposed to be a normal investigation, just two couples that got murdered in their own home.

When he enters another room he saw you, in your my little pony pajamas with a round red plushie with a poorly drawn face around your arms, completely oblivious to the brutal death of your parents.

He couldn't hell but let a slight smile, in such darkness there you were happy to see him. Happy to see a stranger in ridiculously dark clothes.

The room he found you in was no condition for such a ball of happiness, wallpaper teared, water dripping although it was summer, your bed was extremely mess ans solid hard.

He picked you up as you wrap your tiny arms around him clutching onto your plushie. No thoughts in your head as you look dead in his eyes, sucking onto your thumb.

"Ba-man"

You spoke, thumb still in your mouth as your lips parted to form a smile.

He was definitely going to adopt you now.

Your first day with the family was amazingly wonderful, everyone wanted to hold you or bite your cheeks for some reason.

You did choose your favourite from the start, Tim.

When anyone tried to pick you up while he holds you, you would simply turn away and wrap your arms around his neck so they won't seperate you.

Try feeding him anything you can hold onto, pulling his hair cause it was beautiful and you wanted them or the time you didn't stop crying for the whole day straight because Tim went to school.

As you grew older your favourite did not change to the disappointment of most.

Your room was never occupied by you and instead you slept next to Tim much to his dismay.

Unlike him you slept like you've never slept before plus you were deaf and can't feel any touch when you slept.

He would wake up with you on the floor still asleep and he would have to pick you up and make you face the wall, yet you still managed to end up at the bottom of the bed without him knowing.

You arm on his nose or your entire body ontop of him like a cat that want more warmth and will get it no matter what.

Under his desk was something else, a whole new place you had created.

Tim spent most of his time on the desk and you knew it, since you don't want him to be alone you build your own room under his desk.

Picture of my little pony, a chart that doesn't make sense but Tim would listen to you mumbled about it, food and drink, pillow and his jacket you used as pillow and books.

You would read aloud to him while he work on a case, you did have trouble reading and in the end Tim would just read the book with you and intentionally make mistakes so you won't be so embarassed.

Jason who didn't like this was trying so hard on the sideline to get you to drop Tim yet to his Disappointment you were stubborn.

"C'mon we can go watch my little pony till ten if you say im your favourite"

Jason have been trying for years to beat Tim and get the favourite. He tried to spend more times with you but it's impossible when you follow Tim like a duckling even waiting outside bathroom.

"I know you love Pony"

Jason was determine, it wasn't fair at all. You saw Tim call him a tomato and from that day you practically glue yourself onto him, he was way too happy for Jasons liking.

He already wanted to Bash his head for replacing him and now he wanted to throw his head throw a wall for getting all your affection.

"No, Timmy said no"

"You- When did you start listening to adults, you should be a rebel..."

"No"

Jason have never wanted to shake a child so hard just cause they weren't rebellious like he was.

Before Jason could continue his persuasion you saw Tim walk by and instantly went towards him, leaving the older male still kneeling on the ground with my little pony disc on his hand.

"...You like pony?"

Stephanie who just walk into the scene commented, with a wide smile.

"Shut it"

Jason left with the disc still on his hand, leaving Stephanie who was over the moon with her discovery to shout at him.

"Nothing wrong with liking ponies!"

Tim bought everything in two now, doesn't matter what he bought you would always swallow them without even knowing what it was.

It was honestly adorable, eating or drinking anything he ate because you wanted to grow up like him. For someone with short arms you could reach high.

If Tim was to eat something you would eat them without hesitation and proudly huff when you swallow.

You drank coffee once didn't sleep the entire night just went crazy around the house all night.

That's how they made you eat disgusting medicine, by making Tim eat something else that look alike to the medicine and faster then a cell could enter your brain you would chuck them down.

"C'mon brocoli is healthy, you'll grow up like me!"

Dick tried to convince you as he tried to push the food through your mother yet you stubbornly resisted.

And you resorted to pulling his hair, it doesn't hurt that much but it still does hurt and you were in no mood to let him go easily.

"Aouch! Geez, you pull real hard huh? Okay let go now no more brocoli"

Dick tried to gently pry your hands away from his hair but you wouldn't budge, pulling with all your might which hurt way more.

Before Dick could resort to yanking you and have you pull some hair out Tim walk in with no reaction to the current dilemma Dick was in.

Sat next to you and pick a brocoli and fed it to you, which you open your mouth without any second and chew, your hands remain on his hair.

"Tim, could you atleast get her to let go-"

"Let this be a punishment for you forcing her to eat when she obviously doesn't want to"

"She just ate, it's not the food it's the feeder!"

You didn't let go of his hair until Tim pick you up.

It was quite normal for people to mistake Tim as your father even tho you two look nothing alike.

Random mother's and elders or even workers praising him for being such a strong single father who loves his kid, Tim doesn't care about the comments. He absolutely found them hilarious.

"Bless your heart for stepping up for your child, the world need a father like you"

An old grandmother who was walking down the street would comment and Tim on the other hand just nod along with it, no denying or acception.

Even the journalists would intentionally made jokes about how Tim was more of a father than Bruce could be to you, and you thought Bruce was... Your distance uncle and not your father.

Every time anyone brought up the Wayne family and Tim or you is mentioned, everyone will agree that you adopted your own father while your adoptive father became your uncle.

You would hold his hands because they were comfortable unlike the others and if anyone tried to hold your hands, insult everywhere.

"Is your hand made out of cement...?"

"...Did your hand ran a marathon? Why so sweaty?"

"Did your hand ate a giant?"

"Your hand's have different gender"

"You hold onto me like im about to fly"

"No please"

"...Your fingers ate a snake"

"It should be illegal for you to hold hands"

Damian love's your fast mouth but hate it when it's towards him, he secretly tried to teach you how to fight Tim went wrong you ended up attacking him.

His plan backfired real bad.

Did they hate that you loves Tim so much while activity insulting them without even understanding your own word? Yes, they still love you.

It was as if you had adopted Tim solely and the rest were just extra benefit.

Tim loves the fact that you were so open about him being your favourite, he's a proud father of one which is you.

As much as the family love's you, you can only love one and that is your adopted father Tim.

Yes, you adopt your father.

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favefandomimagines · 1 month ago

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Simp (f.l)

Summary: Frank is pining hardcore after his coworker…very hardcore

Request: the lack of frank fics on here is crazy cos he’s so gorgeous and complex but anyways i see you write for him so i was wondering if you could do like hardcore pining, yearning frank x reader where everyone in the pitt can see the tension between them but they are both too stubborn to make the first move

AN: I love a man who yearns

The Pit never really slept. Even when the halls were quieter, and the monitors only beeped sporadically, there was a pulse in the place—steady, stubborn, alive. Dr. Frank Langdon liked to think he was much the same.

After the messy collapse of his marriage and the months of slow, aching rebuild afterward, he carried himself with a certain armor. Confident, cocky even. Unshakable.

Except, of course, when it came to her.

Y/N.

Y/N was chaos and kindness bottled in one person. She had this way of commanding a trauma bay with a clipped, efficient voice that left even seasoned nurses scrambling to follow her orders. She was brilliant, stubborn, and sharp-tongued enough to keep up with Frank—and that was saying something.

The worst part? She had no idea.

Or maybe she did.

Frank leaned against the nurse’s station, arms crossed, pretending to review a chart on his tablet while sneaking glances at Y/N across the ER.

She was laughing with Dr. Mohan by the vending machines, head thrown back, one hand lightly resting on her hip. Frank could feel the tug in his chest like a goddamn fishhook. He swallowed thickly.

Mohan said something else—probably an inside joke between them—and Y/N laughed again. Frank had never envied a vending machine so much in his life.

"You’re staring again," muttered Dana, sliding past him with a smirk.

"I’m not staring," Frank grumbled, heat creeping up his neck.

"Sure you're not," Dana sing-songed, disappearing into a patient room.

Frank sighed and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. How had it come to this? He, Frank Langdon, reduced to a pining idiot over a woman he couldn’t even bring himself to properly ask out.

Because it wasn’t just a crush. Not anymore.

It was the way his stomach twisted whenever Y/N smiled at someone else. It was the way he tuned into her voice automatically, even in a packed trauma bay. It was the way he noticed when she was tired or when she had a new pen tucked behind her ear.

It was the way he caught himself thinking of her, constantly.

And it scared the absolute hell out of him.

Meanwhile, across the ER, Y/N was not as oblivious as she pretended to be.

She could feel Frank's eyes on her sometimes—okay, a lot of the time. She could hear the subtle shift in his voice when he spoke to her, the way his teasing banter always edged just a little closer to sincere when they were alone.

And she wasn’t blind; Frank Langdon was absurdly attractive. Even after a 15-hour shift when his scrubs were wrinkled and his hair was a mess, he somehow looked like he belonged on the cover of a medical drama poster.

And God, was he good at what he did. Watching Frank run a code was like watching art happen in real time—sharp, smooth, unflinching. He had a gift.

But she also knew his history. Everyone in the Pit did.

The divorce. The bitterness that had curled under his skin like smoke. The wild, reckless way he’d thrown himself into work afterward, like if he stayed busy enough, he wouldn’t have to think.

Y/N had spent too many nights nursing friends through breakups to not recognize the signs.

And she wasn’t about to be anyone's rebound—not even Frank Langdon's.

Even if her heart did stutter every time he flashed her that cocky, lopsided grin. Even if she found herself looking for excuses to team up with him on cases. Even if she felt safer with him in a trauma bay than almost anyone else.

Especially because of all that.

She was too stubborn to make the first move. Too scared of getting her heart broken into something small and unfixable.

So she played the game, smiled back, flirted when it felt safe—but always, always kept the line between them firmly drawn.

Even if she wanted to cross it more than anything.

It wasn’t until the accident came in that night, right before shift change, that Frank realized he was absolutely, irrevocably screwed.

"Mass casualty incoming," the charge nurse warned, sticking her head into the lounge where Frank and Y/N were both trying—and failing—to eat dinner. "Multi-car pileup on 76. Five patients at least. ETA three minutes."

Frank immediately shoved his food aside and rose. Y/N was already moving too, grabbing gloves and snapping them on with practiced ease. Their eyes met briefly, and Frank felt it—an electric charge sparking between them.

"You ready, partner?" he drawled, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers.

Y/N smirked. "Born ready, Langdon."

God help him.

The first ambulance screeched into the bay, and chaos bloomed like a stormcloud.

Frank and Y/N fell into a rhythm instantly, as they always did. Y/N took charge of a young woman with a chest wound while Frank handled a man with a broken femur and a possible spinal injury. Orders flew. Hands moved. The ER buzzed and roared around them, a living thing.

Frank could see Y/N out of the corner of his eye the whole time—focused, calm, impossibly beautiful under the harsh fluorescents. Her hair was tied back messily, tendrils falling around her face.

And she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.

He almost missed the nurse asking him for a medication dosage.

"Uh—yeah. One milligram. Push," Frank barked, shaking himself. He could not afford to be distracted right now.

They stabilized their patients, pushed them off to CT and trauma surgery, and somehow—somehow—managed to get a breathing space. Frank peeled his gloves off with a snap, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

Y/N slid down to sit beside him on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her.

"You good?" she asked, voice soft.

Frank turned his head and looked at her, really looked. At the exhaustion in her shoulders. The stubborn strength in her posture. The little curl of hair that had escaped her ponytail and clung damply to her temple.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

Instead, he said, "You were amazing in there."

Y/N smiled, a little bashful, a little amused. "You weren’t so bad yourself, Langdon."

Frank chuckled and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you all my tricks."

"You wish," Y/N shot back.

But she said it warmly, almost fondly.

Frank cracked one eye open and looked at her again, heart thudding against his ribs.

One of these days, he swore, he was going to stop being a coward and ask her out.

Just... not today.

The lull after the trauma surge lasted all of fifteen minutes.

Frank barely made it back to the lounge before being paged again, this time for a nasty lac to the forearm—a teenager who’d slid off a skateboard onto broken glass. Frank stitched quickly, his hands steady even though his brain was still half on Y/N, still replaying the way her fingers had brushed his wrist when she’d handed him a clamp in the trauma bay.

When he finally escaped again, it was to find Y/N sitting sideways on the worn leather couch, her socked feet tucked up under her, flipping through a dog-eared medical journal. A fresh bandage peeked out from beneath the sleeve of her scrub top.

He crossed the room before he could think better of it.

"You didn’t get that cleaned up properly," he said, nodding at her arm.

Y/N raised a brow. "It’s nothing. A scratch."

Frank gave her his best unimpressed doctor stare—the one that usually made med students wither.

"Sit still," he said, grabbing the basic wound care kit from the cabinet.

Y/N hesitated for a second, searching his face, and then—maybe to humor him—stuck her arm out.

Frank perched on the edge of the couch beside her, heart beating far too fast for a guy who'd been covered in other people’s blood less than an hour ago.

He cleaned the scratch carefully, too carefully, aware of every tiny shift of her muscles beneath his fingertips. She smelled faintly of antiseptic and soap, and something warmer underneath—something that was just her.

"You're being very dramatic about this, Dr. Langdon," Y/N teased, watching him work.

"You're my partner," Frank said, more gruffly than he meant to. "Can’t have you bleeding out in the middle of a code."

"How heroic," she said dryly, but there was a small smile playing around her lips.

Frank pressed a bandage gently onto her skin, then looked up—and realized how close they were. Barely a foot between them. He could see the faint spray of freckles across her nose. The glint of amusement in her eyes.

For one reckless second, he thought about leaning in.

Instead, he cleared his throat, dropped his hands into his lap, and said, "All patched up, doc. Try not to injure yourself again for at least an hour."

"Guess I'll try," Y/N said, laughing under her breath.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Frank thought maybe—maybe—he wasn't completely imagining the way she looked at him.

Later, Y/N leaned against the nurse’s station, charting on a patient, when Dana sidled up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You know he's basically in love with you, right?"

Y/N didn’t look up. "Who?"

Dana snorted. "Langdon. Dr. Broody over there."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, but kept her voice even. "He's like that with everyone."

"Uh-huh," Dana said skeptically. "Sure. He totally volunteers to clean people’s wounds at random. Super normal."

Y/N tapped the tablet harder than necessary, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped in her chest.

"Anyway," Dana went on, "the entire ER has a betting pool on when he’ll grow a pair and ask you out."

Y/N's head shot up. "You're joking."

"Dead serious. Robby’s got fifty bucks on you two hooking up by Halloween."

Y/N opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" Dana wiggled her eyebrows. "You like him too. Don't even try to deny it."

Y/N shook her head, laughing nervously. "Even if I did—which I'm not saying I do—it's complicated."

"Life’s complicated," Dana said cheerfully, then wandered off to help a patient who was throwing up in bay three.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her heart thundering in her ears.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she felt for Frank wasn’t casual. She knew that the part of her that held back—the cautious, wounded part—was getting harder and harder to listen to.

But if she fell for Frank Langdon, really fell? She wasn’t sure she could survive it if he broke her heart.

And God, she would fall. She was already halfway there.

It got worse when another trauma rolled in an hour later.

An elderly woman with a head bleed, confused and combative. Frank jumped into action, voice calm but commanding, and Y/N found herself standing beside him almost instinctively, reading off vitals and helping to restrain the patient gently but firmly.

At one point, Frank looked up at her, and the world narrowed to just the two of them.

"You good?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N nodded, feeling breathless.

Frank’s hand brushed hers briefly as he reached for a clamp. The touch was featherlight, accidental—and yet she felt it like an electric shock all the way to her bones.

They worked seamlessly, saving the woman’s life with a coordinated dance that didn’t need words.

When it was over, when the patient was safely whisked upstairs to neurosurgery, Frank turned to her with a grin that made her knees weak.

"You’re a damn rock star, you know that?" he said.

Y/N laughed shakily. "Coming from you, that's high praise."

Frank’s grin softened into something else—something almost tender.

"I mean it," he said, voice rough. "I’d trust you with my life."

Y/N’s heart twisted.

And she realized—maybe he was already trusting her with it.

Maybe he was just as scared as she was.

Back in the break room, Frank slumped onto the couch, scrubbing his hands over his face.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep orbiting her like a satellite too scared to land.

Every part of him wanted her. Needed her. Not in the reckless, self-destructive way he’d used to need people, but in a way that felt terrifyingly real.

And if he didn’t tell her soon, he was going to lose his damn mind.

The next shift was somehow even worse.

Frank had never been this distracted in his life.

He nearly forgot to sign a trauma note, practically ignored the med students. Robby caught him staring into space during a chart review and gave him a look that screamed, get your shit together, man.

Frank knew exactly what the problem was.

Y/N.

Y/N, standing three feet away in her black scrubs that maybe Frank thought fit her too well. Y/N, tucking a pencil behind her ear, and making Frank want to do completely inappropriate things in the supply closet. Y/N, being brilliant and fierce and so far out of his reach it physically hurt.

And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that he could feel the wall between them cracking.

She looked at him differently now. He could see it in the way her eyes lingered, the way her smile faltered sometimes, like she was trying to stop herself from doing something reckless.

He had to do something. Had to say something.

Or he was going to lose her before he ever really had her.

Meanwhile, Y/N wasn't faring much better.

Every time Frank laughed, every time he teased her with that crooked smile and that infuriating wink, she felt herself sliding closer to the edge.

She was tired of fighting it.

Tired of pretending she didn’t want him.

But still—still—fear gnawed at her.

What if he wasn’t ready? What if this was just loneliness, desperation, looking for an easy out?

She couldn’t survive being another casualty in Frank Langdon’s messy post-divorce world.

And she couldn’t survive losing him as a friend, either.

So she waited. And watched. And hoped he’d make the first move.

It was nearly seven in the evening after a long shift, when Frank decided, screw it.

He found her in the back hallway, fiddling with the vending machine, trying to coax a granola bar loose.

"Come on, you stupid piece of shit," Y/N muttered, whacking the side of the machine.

Frank leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with a fond smirk.

"You know, if you wanted a snack that bad, you could’ve just asked me," he said.

Y/N jumped slightly, then rolled her eyes. "I’m fine, thanks."

Frank pushed off the wall and wandered closer, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He felt about a hundred years old and fifteen again all at once.

"You’re not fine," he said lightly. "You’re hangry. It’s a public health emergency."

Y/N laughed despite herself. "You’re impossible."

Frank took a breath. Now or never.

"I was wondering," he said, casual, too casual, "if maybe you wanted to grab dinner sometime."

Y/N blinked. "We grab dinner all the time. Cafeteria food doesn’t count."

"No, I mean—" Frank faltered, scrubbed a hand through his hair. God, he was bad at this. "Like. Real dinner. Plates and silverware. Maybe even something that costs more than five bucks."

He risked a glance at her.

Y/N was staring at him, wide-eyed, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

Frank’s stomach twisted. Had he just made a huge mistake?

"Like a date?" she said slowly.

Frank swallowed. His throat was dry as hell.

"Yeah," he said roughly. "Like a date."

The silence stretched between them.

Frank wanted to crawl under the vending machine and die.

Finally—finally—Y/N smiled. Soft. Shy. Beautiful.

"You’re serious," she said, almost wonderingly.

Frank stepped closer. "I’ve been serious for a long time," he said quietly. "Just too much of an idiot to say anything."

Y/N's lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something—and then she shook her head, laughing a little under her breath.

"You’re ridiculous," she said.

"And yet," Frank said, grinning now, "you’re still here."

Y/N hesitated for a heartbeat longer—then reached out and poked him lightly in the chest.

"One date," she said, mock-stern.

Frank caught her hand in his gently, holding it for a second longer than necessary.

"I’ll behave," he promised, voice low and sincere. "Scout’s honor."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. A real smile. One that made something warm and unbreakable light up in Frank’s chest.

“Promise me, this isn’t because of the divorce. You actually want to pursue this and not some mid-life crisis.” Y/N spoke softly.

Frank looked down at her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise. I want you Y/N.” He said.

"Okay, Langdon," she said. "You’re on."

Frank grinned like an idiot.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly right.

They didn’t kiss. Not yet.

Frank figured he could wait.

After all, he’d already waited this long.

What was a little longer, for something—someone—that might just be worth everything?

#imagine #imagines #the pitt imagine #the pitt #frank langdon imagine #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon

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tobiosbbyghorl · 1 month ago

Text

IN STITCHES | PSH | PART 2

pairing: grump surgeon! sunghoon x surgeon! reader

WC: 6k

synopsis: A grumpy, emotionally guarded surgeon and a sunshine-hearted resident collide in the high-stakes world of medicine-what begins with spilled coffee and sharp words slowly transforms into stolen glances, quiet care, and a love powerful enough to heal even the deepest wounds.

part 1

The hospital parking lot was already full when they pulled in, the sun just barely lifting over the horizon. She straightened her coat, tucking her hair behind her ears and sneaking a glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“We can’t walk in together,” she said as she reached for the door.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve got your strictest attending face on and I have ‘I-woke-up-in-my-crush’s-hoodie’ energy. They’ll know.”

Sunghoon leaned back, resting one hand on the wheel as he looked at her. “Then get out first. I’ll follow five minutes after.”

She paused. “You’re not even gonna tease me for being paranoid?”

“I’m being respectful, baby.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Say what?”

“Baby.”

He leaned in just a little, voice dropping into that smooth, amused register that always made her stomach flutter. “Fine. Yeobo.”

She gasped and lightly hit his arm before climbing out of the car, mouthing you’re so annoying before turning to make her escape.

But not before he smirked behind the windshield, eyes fond as they lingered on her retreating figure.

Five minutes later, when he stepped into the hospital looking every bit the composed, cold surgeon again, no one would have guessed he’d just been kissed goodbye in a parked car with a stray piece of pancake syrup still clinging to his collar.

Well—except for the observant nurse at the front desk who raised a brow and said with a smirk:

“You look unusually… rested today, Dr. Park.”

He didn’t respond.

But the faintest smile betrayed him.

Rounds were quiet that morning, but the tension between them buzzed like static in the air.

Y/N stood at the nurse’s station, flipping through patient charts, when she felt it—that prickling sensation of someone watching her. She glanced up to find Sunghoon across the hallway, mid-discussion with another attending, but his eyes were unmistakably on her.

The second their eyes met, he looked away, far too quickly. Like a schoolboy caught staring. Like he hadn’t just kissed her senseless twelve hours ago.

She ducked her head, smiling behind the edge of the chart.

Still, he was back to his usual self—curt, direct, the perfectionist. But now, even in the sharpness of his tone during rounds, there was a gentler rhythm to it when he spoke to her. No one else would notice. But she did.

During lunch break, she found an empty table in the back of the residents’ lounge, picking at her sandwich. He passed by behind her, pausing just long enough to drop something on the table.

Her favorite drink. No words, no glance.

She blinked.

Moments later, a second-year resident plopped down next to her, eyes narrowed in teasing suspicion. “Sooo… when were you gonna tell me you and Dr. Park have a thing?”

She choked on her bite. “We don’t.”

The resident smirked. “You mean you don’t officially.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re glowing. You never glow. You’re like… caffeine and chaos in human form, and today you’re soft.”

Before she could argue, Sunghoon passed the doorway. He paused—just a fraction of a second—and tilted his head toward her with the subtlest smirk.

The resident’s eyes widened. “Okay. Now I see it.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face in her arms.

⸻

Later that day, while reviewing scans together in a dimmed diagnostics room, their fingers brushed on the touch screen. She didn’t pull away this time. Neither did he.

He looked at her, voice quiet. “Lunch was decent?”

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “The drink made it better.”

A pause.

Their gazes lingered just a little too long.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and the spell broke.

But not entirely.

They both turned back to the screen, acting like nothing happened—but their reflections on the glass betrayed a small, shared smile.

It was a rare Friday night where none of them were on call. One of the nurses was celebrating a birthday, so someone booked out the private back room of a cozy gastropub near the hospital. String lights twinkled overhead, laughter echoed, and the sound of cutlery against plates filled the space.

Y/N arrived first, dressed casually but warm, cheeks flushed from the cold. She was sipping something sweet when Sunghoon walked in—slightly late, still in a pressed shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up like usual. The second their eyes met, something softened in him.

He didn’t walk over right away. He nodded to a few people, greeted the birthday nurse, made small talk with the chief resident.

But then, slowly, naturally, he found his way beside her.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She just smiled up at him, and he sat down like it was the most natural thing in the world—close enough that their knees brushed under the table.

Their friends exchanged glances.

It was subtle at first—him reaching for her glass to sip it absentmindedly, her nudging his shoulder when he teased her for not finishing her meal. Nothing scandalous. Nothing overt.

Until—

“Okay,” the birthday nurse said, raising a toast. “I just want to thank you all for being my favorite group of overworked zombies. I love you all—even the grumpy ones.” Her eyes landed on Sunghoon, pointed.

He raised a brow but didn’t deny it.

Someone from across the table chimed in, “Honestly, I thought someone would’ve mellowed him out by now.”

Y/N was mid-sip when someone added, “Wait, actually… you’ve been way less terrifying lately, Dr. Park. Suspiciously mellow.”

And then came the boldest one: “Don’t tell me it’s because of her?” Eyes flicked toward Y/N.

All eyes turned.

She froze slightly, glancing at Sunghoon in mild panic.

But to everyone’s surprise… he didn’t flinch. Didn’t deflect.

Instead, he reached out under the table, laced their fingers together, and casually lifted their joined hands onto the table in full view.

“I guess the rumors weren’t as subtle as we thought,” he said, tone cool but eyes impossibly soft.

The room went silent—then exploded.

“What—!”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Pay up! I told you they were a thing!”

Laughter erupted. The nurse threw a napkin in the air like confetti. A resident whooped. Someone actually dropped a fork.

Y/N just leaned into the chaos, covering her face in mock embarrassment while Sunghoon—smug as ever—sipped her drink again like it was just another night.

Later, as the group quieted down and conversations splintered into smaller circles, he leaned into her ear and murmured, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She turned to him, glowing. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

He kissed her temple. “Only a little.”

The city buzzed around them, but their world had slowed to a calm hum. The gathering had finally wrapped up, and the streets were painted gold from scattered streetlights and the occasional passing car.

They walked side by side, his jacket now draped over her shoulders because he said she’d catch a cold otherwise. She hadn’t argued. Not this time.

The sidewalk was quiet, their footsteps in sync.

“Still embarrassed?” he asked, voice low, hands tucked into his pockets.

“A little,” she admitted, but she smiled anyway. “You didn’t even blink.”

He chuckled, soft and low. “I figured if we were going to get caught, I’d rather control the moment.”

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Classic.”

Sunghoon glanced over, taking her in—eyes shining under the streetlights, lips slightly chapped from the wind, his jacket swallowing her frame. “You looked happy tonight.”

“I was,” she said honestly, then hesitated. “I think I’ve been happy a lot lately.”

There was a beat of silence between them before he responded.

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

They stopped at a quiet corner, just outside her apartment building. She turned to face him fully, hands still tucked in the sleeves of his jacket.

“I meant it, you know,” she said softly. “Back there. Thank you—for letting me in.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered at her jaw, thumb grazing her cheek gently.

“You were patient,” he murmured. “Even when I wasn’t easy to read. You didn’t push.”

“I didn’t have to,” she whispered. “You found me anyway.”

And he kissed her—slow, steady, like a promise.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, chuckling faintly. “You still doing that puppy eyes thing?”

She blinked up at him. “Maybe.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll stay over again. But only because I like the way your couch smells like lavender.”

“It’s not the couch you’re staying for and you know it.”

He smirked. “No. It’s definitely you.”

Hand in hand, they climbed the steps up to her door.

The city kept humming—but for now, it felt like just the two of them.

Six Months Later

Spring had settled softly over the city, painting the hospital courtyard in warm gold and gentle breezes. Inside, things were as busy as ever—stretchers rolling, monitors beeping, lives changing. But one thing had definitely shifted.

Dr. Park Sunghoon, the once sharp-edged, no-nonsense surgeon, now paused at a child’s bedside just a beat longer than necessary. He ruffled their hair, smiled when they clutched his finger tight, crouched down to explain procedures in calm, careful tones. His voice had lost none of its clarity—but it carried warmth now. Hope.

He still walked fast, still demanded excellence. But now, he also remembered birthdays. He brought coffee to overworked interns. He laughed, sometimes—low and rare, but real. And every once in a while, he’d hum softly in the hallway when he thought no one was listening.

Y/N was reviewing a patient chart when one of the older nurses sidled up beside her, slipping a piece of chocolate into her pocket like a secret.

“You’ve done something no one else could,” the nurse said, eyes crinkling. “You brought him back.”

Y/N blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Dr. Park,” she smiled knowingly. “He was brilliant before. But now? Now he’s also good. Kind. Human.” Her voice softened. “We thought we lost that part of him forever.”

Y/N’s heart ached a little at that—for what he had to lose to build his walls, and for how carefully they’d been taken down.

She turned slightly, glancing through the glass of the OR observation deck where Sunghoon stood, post-surgery, patiently explaining something to a wide-eyed young patient and their anxious parent. He placed a reassuring hand on the father’s shoulder before stepping back with a nod.

The father shook his hand like it was something sacred.

Y/N smiled to herself.

Later that evening, as they sat in the quiet on-call room with half a sandwich between them, she nudged his knee.

“You’re getting soft, Dr. Park.”

He gave her a look but didn’t deny it. “Only for my favorite people.”

She raised a brow. “Patients?”

He leaned in closer, brushing her nose with his. “You.”

—

It was a rare day off. No white coats. No pagers. Just them and the open sky above.

Sunghoon had told her to dress comfortably—“nothing fancy, just layers”—and drove her out of the city. She didn’t ask questions, just watched him steal glances at her the whole ride, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel, a small curve tugging at his lips like he was holding back a secret.

They pulled into a quiet town near the mountains, where spring flowers bloomed along the fences and children rode bikes with streamers in their handlebars. It felt like a pocket of time, untouched and slow.

He led her down a quiet dirt path, up a small hill—and there it was.

A tiny, unfinished cabin. Wooden beams, no windows yet, just the skeleton of a home—but she could already picture it in the warm light, filled with laughter and life. Their future.

“It’s not much,” he said beside her, slightly breathless, “but I’ve been working with an architect on and off. It’s not even built yet.”

She turned to him slowly, eyes wide. “Is this…?”

“For us,” he said. “Someday.”

The wind blew gently. She was quiet—processing.

“I know it’s early,” he continued quickly, hands shoved in his pockets. “But when I think about what I want—where I want to rest after long shifts, who I want to build this with, who I want to drink coffee with on the porch before surgeries… it’s always you.”

She blinked, her throat tight.

He stepped closer, pulling a small, velvet box from his coat. Not flashy. Simple. Honest.

“I don’t need to wait to know,” he murmured. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

For a moment, neither of them breathed.

Then her hands flew to her mouth, eyes brimming. “Sunghoon…”

“I’m not asking for a wedding tomorrow,” he added gently. “Just for a promise. That you’ll build this life with me. That when the time’s right—we’ll already know it started here.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. You’re already home.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, pulling her into his arms as the sky turned gold behind them. He held her close—tight like a man who’d found his anchor—and kissed her like a vow.

Back at the hospital, the week rolled on like always—cases, charts, rounds. But there was a quiet buzz around them now. Something in the way Y/N hummed while updating files, in the way Sunghoon let his hand linger a second longer on her back when they passed in the hall. Something different.

And of course, Mrs. Kang noticed.

The elderly patient had been in and out of the general ward for months now, recovering from a stubborn heart condition and endlessly entertained by the unfolding drama of her favorite real-life hospital romance.

So when both Sunghoon and Y/N walked in for her morning rounds—Sunghoon holding her chart, Y/N holding coffee, both trying (and failing) not to look giddy—Mrs. Kang narrowed her eyes immediately.

“Well, well,” she said, voice raspy but smug. “There’s a glow in this room that’s not from the IV drip.”

Y/N laughed, ducking her head. Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but the edge of his mouth twitched upward.

Mrs. Kang squinted harder, then pointed at Y/N’s hand. “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”

Y/N tried to play coy, lifting her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. But the ring shimmered under the fluorescent lights.

“Hmm?” she said, voice teasing. “Oh, this?”

Mrs. Kang gasped, loud enough to make the nurse across the hallway peek in.

“You sneaky little lovebirds!”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “We were going to tell you.”

“Oh, I knew it,” she said proudly, eyes twinkling. “From the way he brought you soup that one night to how you glared at him like a kicked puppy the next morning—I knew it.”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “She glared at me like that for months.”

“And you loved every second,” Y/N muttered with a grin.

Mrs. Kang reached out, taking Y/N’s hand in both of hers. “You take good care of each other, alright? It’s rare—finding someone who sees all your rough edges and chooses to stay anyway.”

“I will,” Y/N promised, eyes soft. “We will.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything—but when Mrs. Kang winked at him, he smiled. For real. No restraint. No hesitation.

Just warmth.

And for the rest of her stay, Mrs. Kang insisted on referring to them exclusively as “the engaged power couple” whenever nurses came by.

It happened during lunch break the next day.

Y/N had stepped into Mrs. Kang’s room with her usual tea and a short visit before afternoon rounds, Sunghoon trailing in with a fresh update on her test results. It was supposed to be a quick check-in.

But Mrs. Kang had other plans.

As the nurse came by to check vitals, and a couple of residents lingered just outside the door with charts in hand, Mrs. Kang looked over her glasses at the small crowd, her voice deceptively casual.

“Well, since we’ve got an audience,” she began, tapping her spoon on the side of her tray like a gavel, “I think it’s time everyone knew that my favorite doctors are engaged.”

The room paused.

A silence fell so sharp you could hear the ECG beep.

Y/N blinked, halfway through handing her tea. Sunghoon stared for a beat. The door swung open wider as curious heads peeked in.

The nurse dropped her pen. “Wait, what?”

“They’ve been all smiles and shared glances lately,” Mrs. Kang declared proudly, pointing at Y/N’s hand again. “Look at the ring! You think I’d miss that kind of sparkle?”

Y/N turned a brilliant shade of pink, subtly slipping her hand behind her back. Sunghoon just… sighed. Then shrugged.

“It’s true,” he said calmly, slipping his hand into Y/N’s with the smoothness of someone who no longer had anything to hide.

Cue the chaos.

Gasps. Cheers. One resident screamed. Someone clapped. The pediatric fellow across the hall yelled, “I knew it!” while the neurosurgery guy slumped against the wall like he’d lost a bet.

Even Chief Min passed by, arched a brow, and muttered, “About time,” before walking off with her coffee.

Y/N covered her face with her hand, laughing through her embarrassment. Sunghoon just stood there, smug and soft all at once, thumb brushing across the back of her knuckles.

Mrs. Kang leaned back against her pillows, smugger than ever.

“Told you,” she whispered to the nurse. “I’ve still got the eye.”

The hospital was quieter than usual by the time they slipped away, the afternoon rush of patients and staff finally beginning to taper off. Sunghoon and Y/N found themselves in the small, secluded corner of the hospital rooftop, a spot they often retreated to when they needed to escape the chaos. The skyline stretched out in front of them, the city slowly fading into the orange hues of the setting sun.

Y/N leaned back against the railing, feeling the cool breeze tug at her hair, her heart still fluttering from the unexpected reveal in Mrs. Kang’s room. She glanced at Sunghoon, who had his hands tucked into his pockets, a rare calmness in his demeanor.

He was quieter than usual, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked out at the city. After everything—the teasing, the surprise, the reactions from everyone—it felt like the world had shifted just a little bit. And for the first time in a long while, it was a shift that felt… right.

“Mrs. Kang really knows how to make an entrance,” Y/N said, breaking the silence with a soft laugh. She glanced at him. “I didn’t think she’d tell the whole hospital like that.”

Sunghoon chuckled, a low sound that seemed to warm the air between them. “She’s impossible to keep a secret from,” he said with a playful shrug. “But I’m glad she did.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him for a moment. The calmness in his eyes, the softness in the way he stood beside her—he wasn’t the same Sunghoon who had first walked into her life months ago. She’d seen more than just the gruff exterior. She’d seen the quiet tenderness, the rare smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“I think… I think I’m still a little shocked,” she confessed softly. “It’s not exactly how I imagined telling everyone.”

Sunghoon turned to face her, the corners of his lips curling up slightly as he caught her gaze. “Yeah, well, you’ve got Mrs. Kang to thank for that. But… I’m okay with it,” he said, his voice steady but full of a warmth that made her pulse quicken.

There was something different in the way he looked at her now. The walls he’d so carefully built around himself, the ones he’d been reluctant to let anyone past—those walls were crumbling, piece by piece, and it felt like she was the one holding the sledgehammer.

“You know, I never expected to find someone like you,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes softening, the playful smirk slipping from his face. “Someone who doesn’t just… fit into my world. Someone who changes it.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and her chest tightened with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “I never expected to fall for someone like you either,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess we’ve been doing a lot of unexpected things together, haven’t we?”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, taking a small step closer, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. The contact was brief but electric, the warmth of his touch sending a spark through her entire body.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, the words coming out like a secret shared between just the two of them. “A lot of unexpected things.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant hum of the city below. Their hands were so close now, just a whisper of space between them.

And then, without thinking, Y/N closed the distance, slipping her hand into his, the contact familiar but still full of that soft magic that always seemed to linger when they were together.

Sunghoon squeezed her hand gently, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in the same quiet, reassuring rhythm that had become so familiar.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” he said quietly, his voice low but certain.

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest, comforting and soft. “I’m glad too,” she said, her voice full of a tenderness she hadn’t known she was capable of before.

For a moment, there were no hospital corridors to rush through, no patients waiting for answers. Just the two of them on the rooftop, the evening light casting a warm glow over their quiet, shared space. No walls. No barriers.

Just the two of them, letting the world spin around them while they took a breath and simply existed, together.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, the sound rich with fondness. “You know,” he began, a playful glint in his eye, “you never mentioned how memorable our first meeting was.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile spreading across her face. “Oh, I don’t know if it was memorable for you,” she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “But I do recall that you were the one getting drenched in coffee.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitched, as if he were holding back a smile. “You spilled an entire cup on me. I was pretty sure you were the clumsiest person I’d ever met.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and carefree. “And yet, here we are,” she said with a shrug, her eyes sparkling. “Guess that coffee spill wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

The quiet rooftop moment was suddenly filled with the warmth of their shared memories. Sunghoon glanced down at their intertwined hands, his thumb absently tracing circles on her skin. “You’ve had a way of getting under my skin from the very beginning,” he said, his tone lighter now but still tinged with affection.

Y/N grinned, leaning in just slightly, her voice dropping to a more playful tone. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. I’d say you’ve gotten pretty used to me spilling coffee on you by now.”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that moment.” There was a beat, and then he added, almost as if it was a secret shared just between them, “But I’m not complaining.”

Y/N leaned back against the railing again, her hand still nestled in his. “Yeah, me neither,” she said softly, looking out at the horizon, a smile still tugging at her lips. “Funny how life works. We start with coffee stains and end up here.”

Sunghoon watched her, his expression softening. “Yeah… funny how life works.”

And for a long moment, neither of them spoke, both of them content in the quiet understanding that had grown between them, the kind of intimacy that wasn’t built in grand gestures but in the little, unexpected moments. Like spilled coffee, and the way their hands fit together so perfectly now.

Three Years Later

The hospital lights hadn’t changed, but time had softened the sharp edges. The corridors still hummed with urgency, the air still smelled faintly of antiseptic, but there was a different kind of energy now—one that came with stability, with growth.

Y/N walked slowly down the hallway, a chart tucked under her arm and her other hand resting lightly over her growing bump. She wore compression socks under her loose scrubs, a quiet rebellion against the swelling in her ankles. At seven months along, she was still stubborn about helping with the lighter patient loads—case reviews, check-ins, post-ops—but everyone knew better than to let her near anything remotely chaotic.

A few nurses passed her with knowing smiles.

“Doc Y/N, you’re glowing more than the fluorescent lights,” one teased.

She laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s probably just the ten layers of cocoa butter I slathered on this morning.”

She turned the corner into the staff lounge just as her pager buzzed. It was a short message.

ER - Code Yellow. Dr. Park in.

Her heart jumped—not in worry, just instinct. Even after all this time, Sunghoon being called to emergency meant high stakes. She knew he could handle it. He always could. But she also knew that he pushed himself harder than anyone else, always calm, always focused… except these days, his first glance was always to see where she was, or if she was resting.

She sank gently into a chair, setting down the chart. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly, murmuring, “Daddy’s probably elbow-deep in something serious, little bean.”

As if on cue, the door burst open. Sunghoon stepped in, hair tousled, gloves hanging out of his pocket, his expression still carrying the storm of the ER. But the moment his eyes landed on her, it was like a wave breaking.

“You’re supposed to be sitting down,” he said, not unkindly, just soft and breathless from the adrenaline still coursing through him.

“I am sitting down,” she replied with a grin.

He came over, crouching in front of her without hesitation. His hand went to her belly like a reflex, thumb brushing over the side as if grounding himself. “How are you feeling? You were up early.”

“Tired,” she admitted. “But good. Kicked me during rounds again.”

Sunghoon smirked. “That’s my kid.”

She combed her fingers gently through his hair, pushing a strand off his forehead. “Rough case?”

“Teenager. Motorcycle. Lucky to be alive.” He rested his head lightly on her lap for a second. “I hate that I get used to this.”

She held his cheek in her palm. “You don’t get used to it. You just grow around it.”

He closed his eyes, quiet for a beat. Then, “Come home with me after this?”

She tilted her head. “I wasn’t planning on doing a double shift, Park.”

He cracked a smile. “I mean it. Let’s just… disappear for the rest of the day. I’ll bring your favorite dumplings. Foot rub included.”

Y/N laughed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Deal. Only because our kid might inherit your grumpiness and needs balance.”

“You say that like I’m not the softest person in this room.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Sunghoon stood and helped her up gently, his hand protectively bracing her back. They walked out of the lounge slowly, fingers linked, like the world had shifted around them and they were just walking through the new rhythm—one heartbeat at a time.

Bonus Scene: The Day Park Sungjae Was Born

The pain was something else. Y/N had always known childbirth was intense—she’d walked patients through it, held hands, whispered calm—but nothing quite prepared her for being on the other side of the curtain.

The hospital room was warm, bathed in that oddly sterile comfort only a maternity ward could offer. It smelled like peppermint oil and something floral that someone must have spritzed earlier in hopes of calming her. But all she could focus on now was the squeeze in her lower back and the warm, steady hand that hadn’t left hers since the contractions started.

Sunghoon.

He was by her side, masked up, hair messy, scrubs wrinkled from hours of pacing and worry.

His eyes never once left hers.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Almost there. Just one more push, okay?” he whispered, voice tight but gentle, as if every fiber in him was holding on for both of them.

She gritted her teeth and pushed—hard.

And then—

A cry pierced the room.

A loud, raw, beautiful sound that shattered the tension like glass.

Y/N collapsed back against the pillows, tears already gathering in her lashes as the doctor lifted their son and placed him on her chest. Tiny. Warm. Real.

Sunghoon froze.

His hand trembled as he reached out, fingers barely brushing over the baby’s soft hair. His chest rose sharply, and he let out a breath that caught halfway through. Y/N turned to look at him.

And that was when she saw it—the crack, the shift.

Sunghoon cried.

Not in silence this time. Not behind closed doors. He cried openly, eyes wet and red, voice gone hoarse as he whispered, “He’s so small… he’s

here.”

She reached up, cupping his cheek. “He’s perfect.”

He bent down slowly and kissed her forehead. “Park Sungjae,” he said softly, almost reverently. “You did it. You both did.”

Y/N smiled, exhausted but full. “You’re crying again, Dr. Park.”

“That’s the third time,” he admitted, laughing through his tears. “Wedding, pregnancy, and now this.”

“Wanna aim for four?” she joked weakly, a tease in her voice.

He chuckled, still brushing his knuckle gently across Sungjae’s cheek. “Let me survive this one first.”

Then the baby let out another tiny cry and instinctively grasped Sunghoon’s finger.

His breath hitched again. “Hi, little guy,” he whispered, eyes soft and overflowing. “I’m your dad. And I promise—whatever this world throws at you… I’ll be right here.”

And for a moment, in that room filled with quiet awe and lingering tears, everything stood still—like time had paused just to let them feel every second of their brand-new beginning.

First Night Home

The soft whimpering of newborn cries echoed gently through the apartment, but there was no panic, no urgency. Just soft footsteps, a lullaby hum, and the warm glow of the nursery light casting golden halos on the walls.

Sunghoon gently rocked Park Sungjae in his arms, the tiny bundle swaddled in mint green, resting against his chest like he belonged there all along.

“Shhh, baby. You’re home now,” he whispered, voice low, warm, and endlessly soft. He walked slowly in circles, bare feet padding against the wooden floor. Y/N watched from the doorway, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she leaned against the frame.

“You’ve been doing that for thirty minutes,” she murmured.

“I know,” he whispered, not stopping. “He likes it. He stopped crying.”

“You’re wrapped around his finger already.”

Sunghoon turned his head and smiled, tired but glowing. “It’s not even funny how fast it happened.”

Y/N stepped inside, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his arm. They stood there like that for a while, the three of them in the soft hum of domestic peace.

Later, when Sungjae was finally fast asleep in his crib, they curled up on the couch with Y/N tucked against Sunghoon’s chest, a blanket draped over them, the soft sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“You’re a natural,” she whispered.

“So are you,” he murmured back. “But I think we made an overachiever.”

She laughed. “He gets it from his dad.”

Sunghoon pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her back. “This… all of this… I never thought I’d get here. With you. With him.”

“You’re here now,” she said, tracing his knuckles. “And you’re not alone anymore.”

Time Skip: Sungjae, Age 2½

The hospital lobby was a little livelier than usual.

A giggle rang out across the nurse’s station as Park Sungjae toddled along the hallway with his tiny backpack bouncing and his little fists full of stickers. He was chasing after a nurse, determined to show off the drawing he made of a dinosaur—complete with messy crayon scribbles and hearts.

“He said it’s you,” Y/N called out to Sunghoon, who emerged from the elevator with a file in hand and a helpless smile spreading across his face.

Sungjae stopped in his tracks. “Appa!”

Sunghoon crouched instinctively, opening his arms. “Come here, little man.”

Sungjae ran and crashed into his father’s chest, giggling uncontrollably as Sunghoon picked him up and kissed his chubby cheek.

One of the nurses leaned over to Y/N with a smirk. “Dr. Park’s turned into a giant softie since Sungjae was born. You should see the way he talks to the kids now. You fixed him.”

Y/N smiled. “He was never broken. Just waiting.”

Just then, Mrs. Kang, who had been eavesdropping from her wheelchair nearby, pointed to their hands—matching silver bands glinting in the light.

“Told you they were endgame,” she declared proudly to the other patients. “Now look at them—ringed up, loved up, and with a mini-me who runs this place.”

Sunghoon heard her, glanced at his wife, and smirked. He lifted Sungjae’s little hand and flexed both their rings subtly toward Mrs. Kang.

She winked. “Show off.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. Sunghoon pressed a kiss to her cheek in front of everyone, uncaring now of being seen, of being known like this.

Together. Strong. Soft. Home.

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh

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semisasseater · 4 months ago

Text

YEAH, I BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

데일 듯 hotter, hotter

SUMMARY ‘ y/n pushes jays limits during their promotions which causes him to fuck her brains out ♡

𓊆 爵士 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 1,007 smut rough sex spanking degradation light face slapping dom/sub dynamics daddy kink overstimulation? slight non-prep penetration aftercare — 类型 smut romance idol au secret relationship

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🔥⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i need jays cock i need jays cock i need jays cock NOW.

As the days passed, your secret relationship with Jay continued to flourish, even amid the chaos of your group’s comeback. The song Brought the Heat Back was a massive hit, dominating the charts and earning nonstop promotions. But despite the demanding schedule, you found yourself increasingly distracted—specifically by Jay’s ridiculously good looks. Every time he stepped onto the stage, exuding effortless confidence and raw charisma, your mind wandered to places it probably shouldn’t during work.

During one particular photoshoot, Jay sat in a chair, looking like an absolute greek god in his outfit. His sharp gaze and relaxed posture made him all the more irresistible. Your pose required you to sit on his thigh, turning your head towards the camera while keeping your back to it. The moment you settled onto him, a mischievous idea struck you. With the staff focused elsewhere, you subtly rolled your hips, grinding against his thigh just enough to tease.

Jay’s reaction was immediate. His grip on your pants tightened, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in just enough for you to hear his low warning. “Knock it off wait till we get home.”

But you weren’t feeling patient. Pouting, you shook your head in defiance, a silent plea for more. Jay exhaled sharply, his frustration evident, but there was something else in his eyes—amusement. You were testing his limits, and you both knew it.

The next shoot included the entire group—Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. As you all gathered for a group shot, you couldn’t resist pushing things further. Under the guise of casual placement, you discreetly rested your hand over Jay’s crotch, feeling the warmth of him through his pants.

Jay’s fingers instantly wrapped around your wrist, removing your hand with a firm grip. He leaned down, his voice a sharp whisper in your ear. “I said fucking stop it wait till we get home.”

Again, you refused, shaking your head with a playful smirk. This time, Jay’s patience snapped. The warning look he shot you sent a clear message—you had pushed far enough. Finally, you backed down, but the tension between you only grew stronger as the day dragged on.

By the time you both made it home, the moment the door shut behind you, Jay had you pinned against the wall. His hands pressed firmly against your sides as his darkened eyes bore into yours.

“I told you to fucking wait until we were done.” His voice was deep, edged with frustration and something more dangerous—desire.

You barely had a chance to respond before he crashed his lips against yours, his body pressing you further into the wall. Breathless, you managed to mumble an apology between kisses. “I’m sorry daddy… I was just really horny…”

Jay let out a low chuckle, his amusement quickly overshadowed by hunger. “Oh you’re gonna be sorry alright.”

He wasted no time dragging you to the bedroom. Clothes were torn off in a frenzy, and when he yanked your pink panties off, you gasped. “Hey! Those were my favorite!”

Jay smirked, tossing them aside. “Shut up i’ll buy you more.”

As he prepared to stretch you out, you shook your head, voice breathless with impatience. “No… I don’t want that just want your cock.”

Jay froze for a second, brows furrowed. “You don’t want prep? Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, I don’t.”

That was all he needed to hear. As he stripped the last of his clothes, he muttered under his breath, “Of course you don’t… fucking slut.”

With a quick flick, he grabbed the lube, slicking himself up before pushing into you in one swift motion. The sudden stretch had you squirming, your body clenching around him as moans spilled uncontrollably from your lips. Jay held still for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust before pulling back and slamming into you again.

Your cries filled the room as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You clung to him desperately, hands grasping at anything—his arms, the sheets, the headboard—anything to ground yourself. But Jay wasn’t done with you yet.

Flipping you onto your hands and knees, he gripped your hips and started pounding into you from behind. Your knees trembled beneath you, your body barely able to handle the intensity. Each sharp thrust sent you spiraling further, your voice breaking as you whimpered his name over and over.

“J-Jay—please—s-slow down—”

But he wasn’t listening. A firm slap landed against your ass, making you cry out. Another followed, and another, each one leaving a stinging heat in its wake. Tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations—pain, pleasure, overstimulation—it was all too much. Yet, you didn’t want him to stop.

Jay let out a deep chuckle, his fingers trailing up to your face. With a firm grip, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to the side. He watched you, your teary eyes, your parted lips, the way drool dripped onto the sheets. He laughed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek before giving your face a light slap.

“Look at you” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Fucking ruined.”

Your body shook with exhaustion, yet you still begged for more. By the time he finally spilled inside you, your limbs had turned to jelly, your mind foggy with bliss.

Jay sighed, pulling you against his chest as he peppered gentle kisses along your temple. He scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. The moment he set you down, he helped you onto the toilet, rubbing your thighs soothingly as he whispered, “Come on baby you gotta pee.”

Afterward, he ran a warm bath, massaging your shoulders as he helped you relax. His hands glided over your skin, rubbing your sore legs, whispering sweet words of love and praise.

As the two of you curled up in bed afterward, bodies tangled together, you felt yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep.

Still, one lingering thought danced in your mind—how you were definitely going to tease him again during filming.

@semisasseater

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eden031 · 2 months ago

Text

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!female!reader

Warnings: angst, death, crack (a patient has a cola bottle in his rectum), Jack Abbot using dark humor to cope, mentions of porn (like once), some fluff at the end, patients being nosy, bad innuendo, the betting pool in the Pitt is going wild, medical inaccuracies, maybe a bit cringe worthy at some points (probably)

Summary: When an uneventful shift filled with bad humor and overheard conversations turns into something more tragic Jack makes sure that his intern doesn‘t break.

A/N: Listen people, I don‘t know what possessed me when I wrote this, it felt like a fever dream but we are moving in the right direction, I think. Please forgive me for the heavy angst in the end of this chapter, the beginning is very cracky and I honestly don‘t know why I wrote it, but it was fun to write and I had a good laugh while writing it sooo… Also this was barely proof read because I had to rewrite it like ten times.

“Alright, fifty bucks that they already fucked,” Ellis sounded way too enthusiastic about this for her to not stop and listen in on the conversation. Halting in the hallway just short of the door to the break room she continued to listen, an IPad for charting in hand.

“You seriously think so?” Olsen sounded mildly astonished at the high bet or maybe depending on who they were talking about the pairing and circumstance. Bets on the staff's personal life were common and she always found them to be rather interesting, already having won over five hundred dollars because she had bet on Nisa dating one of the day shift security guards for over two months.

“Yeah,” Ellis sounded annoyed, “You don’t know shit Olsen, you are always sick for the saucy moments.” Ellis snorted. Suppressing a giggle of her own she leaned against the wall, not wanting to disturb the two residents in their apparently heated discussion.

For a moment she looked around, trying to see if anyone was seeing that she was just standing in front of the break room being nosy. Luckily it was a quiet night and not that many people were running around.

It was fun listening in on these kinds of conversations then to guess who this was about. Right now she was not sure, thinking that maybe it could be about someone from day shift, she was not sure who else they would currently be betting on.

“I mean…” Olsen trailed off for a moment, like he was trying to prove that he still caught some interesting interactions, “I saw him basically hovering over her at some point,” he sounded mildly defeated.

“Yeah, that's why you bet that they knew each other before. I was there for the damn REBOA and had to witness an interaction that basically felt like some weird medical kink soft porn.” Ellis sounded so proud of placing her bet, for a moment she frowned. The only REBOA that had been placed in the last few weeks had been by her. Her brows furrowed, they were not talking about her, at least she hoped not.

“Jesus,” Olsen groaned. A pause, some clinking, probably mugs being shuffled around.

“Yeah, and he is totally looking at her boobs every time she comes up to talk to him. And checking out her ass every time she walks away.” Ellis’ voice was slightly more quiet this time as she spoke. “Never thought I would see Abbot looking at someone like a kicked puppy, but here we are,” a heavy sigh came from Ellis.

An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, just hoping that they were not talking about her and Abbot, because if they were she would actually start questioning her own sanity. She had been so careful, trying to make sure that no one realised how badly the man affected her.

“But she is an intern, when do you propose they even met?” Olsen sounded almost offended as he spoke.

Deciding that she did not want to hear the rest of the conversation she started heading towards the nurses’ station again, the IPad clutched tightly against her chest. Her face felt hot as she placed it back on the rack, staring up at the board, looking for something she might actually be able to handle on her own for the moment. Humming softly she tapped her foot as she scanned the board, as her eyes found a patient with her name written next to it a pleased sigh escaped her lips.

Rubbing her forehead she glanced over to the room, Josie leaving it with a small smirk on her lips, head shaking. Grabbing a pair of gloves she started heading in the direction of the older nurse.

“Josie!” she called out, jogging towards the nurse. A smile on her face she nodded towards the room the patient was in.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” she grinned slightly as she saw the gloves in her hands.

“Did you get everything for Mr. Hill ready?” she asked as she nodded towards the room of the patient she had just assumed to be Mr. Hill.

“Yes,” she laughed, shaking her head, “If you are curious: this time it was a cola bottle,” Josie still shook her head slightly.

“I am assuming he fell on it while changing?” she asked carefully, having to suppress a laugh as she saw Josie roll her eyes.

“Of course he did, but at least he is in a good mood,” Josie shrugged, “At least in a better mood than most patients that come in during this hour,” she sighed, “I already gave him a low dose of muscle relaxant and set up everything you need to get that bottle out, just call me if you need any help,” the older nurse gently patted her on the shoulder.

“You are an angel,” she smiled as she walked over to the room, pressing open the glass door, then stepping behind the curtain. Mr. Hill was an elderly man, in his seventies, he was a widower, one of their regular patients in the ED at night and truly an angel. Even during a horrible shift Mr. Hill was able to put a smile on the faces of the people that treated him.

“Well good evening Mr. Hill,” she smiled as she greeted the man, a blanket was placed over his lower body and a bright smile already on his face.

“Good evening, darlin’! And how many more times do I have to tell you to call me Richard?” He gave her a glance that made her laugh, shaking her head she put on the gloves. Usually when she started working with a patient the events that had occurred previously washed from her mind and she was completely focused, though right now it felt like her mind was overshadowed by the conversation between Ellis and Olsen.

“Mind if I take a quick look?” she asked, pointing at the blanket, Mr. Hill laughed and nodded, already knowing the procedure. He propped up his legs, quickly she glanced under the blanket nodding slightly she put the blanket back down.

“Looks like it’s wedged in there pretty good,” she gave him a scolding look, she was not sure how many times they had already given him the talk of not putting certain objects in certain places. However, apparently he was not really listening to what they were telling him.

“Yes…” he trailed off for a moment while she grabbed the ultrasound to make sure that there was no internal bleeding.

“Are you alright darlin’?” He looked mildly concerned as she started prepping everything for the ultrasound.

“Of course, Mr. Hill,” she gave him a small smile, “Why wouldn’t I be?” she laughed putting some of the jelly on his belly, sitting down to perform the ultrasound. It startled her that he had realised that she was still a bit preoccupied with the conversation she had overheard.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with that pretty doctor of yours?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She only raised hers at that, moving the ultrasound over his belly while she looked at the screen.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hill,” she laughed softly as she continued to check his abdomen. The issue with Mr. Hill was that for a man his age the man was perceptive, always seeing everything and almost being as informed on the gossip of the ED as Perlah and Princess.

“You know who I am talking about,” he wiggled his brow again, “I am old, not blind, I can see the way you look at the man,”

That made her pause in her movements, feeling heat rising to her neck and face. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, finally having finished from all angles she started wiping away the jelly from the older man’s belly.

“I still don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hill,” she gave him a breathy laugh. “Good news is that I can’t see any bleeding right now, so you know the drill, bottle out, wait another hour or so, check for bleeding again, wait for the muscle relaxant to wear off and then you are free to go” she explained, trying to shift the topic of conversation away from the man in question.

As she was preparing to lube up the bottle the door opened and she heard a familiar pattern of footfalls approaching from behind her.

“Everything alright in here?” Abbot spoke in a gentle tone, she could feel him standing behind her, the warmth of his body hitting her back, though she knew he was not touching her. Glancing over her shoulder she felt her throat constrict slightly as she realised how close he actually was. He was hovering over her shoulder, looking at the bottle of lube in her hands.

“Splendid, Dr. Abbot.” A big grin came to the face of Mr. Hill. She sighed, shaking her head as she lifted the blanket slightly. Swallowing harshly she grabbed one of the tools and began distributing the lube around the cola bottle, thanks to the muscle relaxant this should be done fairly quickly.

“And your assessment?” Abbot asked, she could feel his burning gaze on her as she continued to work.

“Should be done in good time, though this time around I would wait a bit longer with the discharge since the cola bottle is not the usual caliber of…” she paused, knowing that theoretically everyone knew what Mr. Hill was up to with these things, but he never actually admitted to it. “Well, objects he falls on,” she cleared her throat. Continuing to distribute the lube around the bottle.

“Alright, Mr. Hill, I am leaving you in her capable hands,” Abbot sounded mildly amused, she heard him turn around.

“I bet you know best, Dr. Abbot” Mr. Hill sounded like he was teasing Abbot, she let out a choking sound as Abbot’s steps halted for a brief moment, before they continued. As she heard the door close she shook her head.

“You are impossible, Mr. Hill,” she shook her head, carefully grabbing the part of the bottle that was luckily still on the outside. She gave him a look, “You know the drill.” she spoke, feeling the bottle move slightly, she pulled on it carefully, trying to apply too much stress.

“I simply told him that he knows what’s best,” he winked at her, speaking in a break from the gentle pushes. She held onto the bottle, they had already been able to get it over the enlargement. It would only be a bit more before it would be easier again.

“You know very well what you did there,” she gave him an annoyed glare. Within the next few moments the bottle was freed and she placed it on the tray.

“Alright, Mr. Hill, how are you feeling?” she asked as she started taking off the gloves, scooting backwards.

“Much better, thank you, dear,” he gave her a small smile. As she got up from the chair she gave him a smile.

“A nurse will be in to check on you soon, in an hour I will do another ultrasound to make sure that there is no bleeding.” she explained. “Also if you feel any lightheadedness or discomfort press the call button so someone can come and check on you, alright?”

“Yes, yes, I know how this works,” he gave her a smile as she left the room, shaking her head as she headed back to central. Mr. Hill had his nose up in everyones business, he knew everything and everyone, sometimes she wondered who his inside source on the hot ED gossip was, usually she would say it was one of the nurses, but it could really be anyone, especially of the night shift where everyone was kept awake by gossip, coffee and spite.

“So,” Josie slipped up beside her, the older nurse looking curious, “How did everything go with Mr. Hill?” she asked.

“Everything went well. I think the man should stop with these shenanigans, but otherwise I think he should be fine. There was no bleeding when I checked and there was also no blood on the bottle, so I just hope that he will be okay.” she sighed. “And he of course has his nose in everybody’s business,” she sighed, shaking her head as she rubbed her face.

“Ahh” Josie laughed slightly, “While on the topic of being in everybody’s business, I know it is none of mine, but mind telling me why Tommy’s been in such a good mood lately?” leaning against the counter Josie grinned slightly.

A snort left her lips as she nodded, a small smirk growing on her lips.

“Yeah, cause he is getting laid,” she answered, a loud clicking sound came from behind her, though she did not turn around, probably just something that had fallen over.

“Seriously?” Josie raised her brow, “Who is the lucky lady? Or lucky lad?” She continued to pry.

“Yeah, seriously. Tommy finally made a move on Maise, I felt like the pining was going to crush me every time I walked into a room with the two of them.” she shuddered lightly, shaking her head. A small smile on her lips as she thought about the fact that her friends were really happy together. Josie snorted slightly as she shook her head.

“While talking about pining…” before Josie was able to finish her question Bridgit shouted from the middle of the nurses’ station.

“We got an incoming hit and run victim, ETA 3 minutes,” her voice carried through the ED.

“Shit,” she muttered as she grabbed a pair of gloves from one of the boxes, Abbot walked past her, already heading for trauma 1.

“Come on!” he half turned as she hurried along with him, grabbing disposable gowns from one of the dispensers she put them on, he tied her gown, she tied his, Olsen also joined them, already wearing his as well. Turning slightly she saw a bunch of nurses getting trauma 1 ready for the incoming patient. They headed outside to the ambulance bay, the patient being loaded off the ambulance as they arrived, she was already intubated, they were bagging her. A young woman, about her age, hair matted from the blood, makeup smeared as they pushed her inside. The EMT rattled off data as they placed her on the gurney in the trauma bay.

Pulling out a light pen she checked the pupil again, the EMT had reported that pupils had been reactive right after arrival, though they were sluggish.

“Extremely delayed pupil reaction,” she reported as she glanced over at the monitor, the blood pressure of the young woman was dropping rapidly.

“Shit,” Olsen muttered as he squeezed some of the jelly on the abdomen of the young woman, moving the ultrasound over her stomach. She put on the stethoscope, listening to the woman’s lungs.

“Good breath sounds on her right side, left almost no breath sounds,” she reported as she pulled off the stethoscope. Olsen moved the ultrasound up and towards the lungs.

“Hemothorax,” he simply said, cursing under her breath she looked over at Abbot who watched them work.

“Prepare to place a chest tube,” Abbot looked at her, she nodded and started to get to work, the shirt had already been cut. Around them the nurses were working relentlessly, quickly she prepared everything for the chest tube, Abbot walked around the table, standing beside her.

“You know what you have to do,” he simply said, she had already placed a chest tube under his supervision a few times in the time she had worked on the night shift. Moving quickly she made the incision, then placed the chest tube, the drainage began.

“Oxygen is going up, blood pressure is still dropping,” someone in the room announced. Olsen cursed as he moved the ultrasound around.

“Looks like a torn spleen,” he squinted as he continued to move the ultrasound head, “And torn liver, shit,”

Abbot stepped around so he could look at the ultrasound, an unhappy grunt left his lips as he shook his head.

“Alright, let’s try to stabilize her so that we can get her up to surgery ASAP,” he ordered, they gave her meds to try and stabilize her blood pressure along with more blood. As she looked up she saw Ellis and Shen running towards another patient being wheeled in from the ambulance bay, a little boy that looked incredibly pale. Tearing her gaze away from the boy she focused on getting this patient stable. Suddenly the weak but steady beeping went into a long single tone.

“She’s flatlining,” one of the nurses shouted. She moved quickly, starting chest compressions. The feeling of breaking ribs during CPR was bad, though this was somehow worse, CPR on already broken ribs that crunched with every push.

“Push an epi,” Abbot barked at one of the nurses. After what felt like hours Abbot took her place, another epi, then a pulse check, no pulse. Abbot was replaced by Olsen, another epi, they circled back to her, ribs cracking beneath the pushes. The nurse at the head of the bed continued to push the bag, for some reason watching the motion of the bag during CPR was calming. Another epi, another pulse check, still nothing to shock. More blood was being pushed, another check, Abbot stepped in.

“Check her pupils again,” he told her, she did. Her heart sank as she shone the light into the eyes of the woman.

“No pupil reaction bilaterally, both pupils blown” she reported. Abbot mumbled something she didn’t understand, looking at Tara who was bagging the woman to get an idea of what he might have said, she also just shrugged. Another epi was pushed, Olsen took over, at some point another pulse check. Still nothing to shock. This was starting to look hopeless. She wasn’t sure how long they were going at it, how much blood and how many epi’s they pushed. Suddenly there was something at the next pulse check, they shocked, and the heartbeat was back. Barely there, like it was only hanging on by a threat, then it was gone again.

Cursing they started over, she was really not sure how much time passed, but the chance of stabilizing that woman was almost zero, too much blood loss from the torn spleen and liver, the hemothorax, a large and thick bruise on her leg suggesting bleeding in her leg. Her hands pressed into her chest, sweat dripping down her back as she continued the CPR, a LUCAS would have been impossible with the mangled arm of the poor woman. It felt like time was flying by and slowing down simultaneously.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Abbot’s voice cut through the haze of CPR, beeping and orders being called. “Stop compressions,” slowly she stopped, stepping back from the gurney, her heart hammering in her chest as she stared at the young woman laying on the bed. Her long blonde hair matted with blood, the long steady tone of the heart monitor.

Abbot called time of death, one of the nurses pulled a blanket over the body of the woman, taking a shaky breath she pulled the gloves from her hands. Everyone else doing the same, a solemn silence hung over them.

“Hurry up everyone,” Bridgit called out as she opened the door, “There are six other patients coming in via ambulance. All from a car wreck.” That set everyone in motion again, they pulled off the gowns, the woman was moved out of the trauma bay, probably in one of the rooms. She hurried around, getting a new gown and a new pair of gloves. Shen and Ellis looked like crap as they all met in the ambulance bay.

People were being brought in, apparently one of the victims died on scene, trachea slices through, drowned on his own blood, two were heavily wounded and the other three had moderate to mild injuries.

“Shen, Ellis you take the one with the head injury,” Abbot called out as the EMT’s began wheeling in the injured. “Olsen I need you to fix up these three, then come join us in trauma 1,” he looked at her, “We will take the other guy,” she nodded, emotionally preparing herself for maybe another loss.

This time everything blurred together a lot more. Blood everywhere, two open, displaced femur fractures that were bleeding so badly that the EMT’s had to put a tourniquet on them. The man was heavily sedated already, apparently he had been screaming and thrashing around when the EMT’s arrived. At least that was something. They moved quickly, he stopped breathing, they intubated the man. He started seizing, they gave him something to stop it so they could continue to work. Then another long beeping tone, Olsen joined them as that happened.

CPR started, her mind starting to play the Bee Gee’s ‘Stayin’ alive’ as she started compressions. It blended everything else out, the switch, she stood there, watching, waiting. Time seemed to slow as their attempt to revive the man continued. She was not sure how long they went on. Then another call, another time of death was announced.

The room began to empty, nausea settled in her stomach as she stared at the bloodied gloves. Two people were gone, from what she could guess the little boy had not made it, the patient with the head trauma also didn’t make it. Though from what she had picked up he had coded quicker than their guy.

Pulling off the gloves and the gown she headed to the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water. This was not how this shift was supposed to end, this was not how this day was supposed to start. She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. It had been a quiet shift, the kind of shift most people enjoyed, the kind of shift why people worked the night shift. Leaning against the sink she closed her eyes, feeling her head hammering, the exhaustion of probably almost three hours CPR catching up to her. Slowly she made her way out of the bathroom, hearing agitated voices from the nurses’ station.

“I swear I will never say it again!” Shen shouted. Glancing over she could see Ellis staring him down with an angry expression on her face. Everything around her was spinning and it felt like the sigh of the young woman her age on that table haunted her. Blood was pounding in her ears as she made her way towards central, trying to not let it show how exhausted she was.

“You fucking say that all the time! And every single time it ends in a disaster!” Ellis shouted back. It looked like everyone was on edge right now. Taking a shaky breath she thought that she should maybe eat something. Turning around she made her way towards the break room. Grabbing a granola bar from the counter she collapsed into a chair.

“Are you doing okay?” his voice was gentle, it came from in front of her. Glancing up she saw Abbot standing there, a solemn expression on his face.

“Not really,” her voice cracked, trying to hold in the tears as she looked at him. He looked at her. Slowly she opened the granola bar with shaking hands.

“Are you gonna share that with the elderly?” he asked, a hint of humour in his tone. She stared at him, she wanted to laugh, she really did but all that came out was a choked half sob half laugh as she broke it in two pieces handing him one.

“Thanks,” he began munching on the granola bar. She watched him for a moment, he looked up from the bar in his hand.

“You did great tonight,” his eyes locked with hers, his expression serious, though there was a deep concern etched into it. “Except for the part where you almost lost your pants,” his voice was teasing, another choked laugh escaped her. During the hit and run victim she had almost lost her pants while doing CPR, though Nisa had caught on and pulled them up, she had thought he hadn’t seen.

“Thanks,” she sniffled slightly, trying to compartmentalise, still it was hard. Death was never easy, it was never easy to accept. “And thank you for being the rock in the chaos of this ED,” she whispered softly. That made his expression shift slightly.

“My therapist thinks it’s the only time my brain quiet’s down,” he pauses, carefully moving his hand, he holds it out, palm up. “I hope that it won’t be the only time that it quiets down for the rest of my life,”

Staring at the offered hand for a moment she hesitated, not sure if she should accept, but the moment her hand met his it felt like she was anchored to this place, to this moment, not somewhere else, not back in the trauma bay, no right there, right at that moment, sharing a granola bar with Jack.

—————————

Tags:

@antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs

#the pitt #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #dr jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #the pitt x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader

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bestlilithian · 11 months ago

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The lilithian experience (lilith dominant chart)

Personal experiences w having heavy lilith influence

- Older people being creepy subtly or overtly, but usually subtly with certain looks or touches or comments, especially strangers in public or distant family friends

- Being told Im scary or intimidating, or that I look mean (a girl once told me she thought I wouldnt want to hang out w her and her friends because I looked 'too pretty and kinda mean') [this is esp w lilith/asc harsh aspects]

- Lilith square asc culture is walking into a room a little pissed or in a hurry and everyone shutting up (also works for mars/pluto)

- Now Ive never heard anyone else talking about this but as a lilithian woman Ive always been disgusted by the idea of having sex with a man because in our culture a woman who has sex w a man is seen as having been dominated and degraded by him ("I fucked her" "I hit that" "I scored") also the act itself is very power struggle-ish like no *I* want to bend over a man and make him suck *my* dick

- Being hyperaware of people looking at you (even if youre dressed extremely modestly or without makeup)

- Lilith/moon aspects 🤝 your mom making inappropriate comments about you and your body

- Lilith/sun aspects 🤝 your father insulting you or making weird comments (more subtle w soft aspects so you might brush it off but its still not okay girl)

- People thinking youre flirting with them or others (esp men) but youre just hot and talking, and you cant help that ppl have strong reactions to anything you say really

- Loving eye contact <3 (w the right people)

- Lilith square saturn culture is not being afraid to stand up to authority <3 and having to quite often because they have a pick on you and try to tear you down

- also w lilith square/opposite saturn grown ass adults will have beef w you when youre a kid, esp those w authority over you like teachers, coaches etc

- Lilith/asc harsh aspects and overthinking whether a fit is too revealing or not (because you dont want to get harassed and looked at again) (but then youll grt harassed even if you go out in a priests suit so 🤩)

- People (esp men) trying to use you for sex

- Always being the one guys want to be friends w benefits with while theyre crushing on another girl

- "I dont like what you do to me" - most men Ive interacted with for a while

- A guy told me he liked me for who I am but he couldnt stand "the effect I have on him"

- lilith in 4th house culture is attracting men w mommy issues and being looked at by guys in relationships

- lilith/mercury and needing to know all your friends bdsm test results

- People liking when youre mean 2 them

- People who hate you often want to have sex w you

- Ive had so many guys in my class literally have to gather up courage to talk 2 me, even for basic things like asking me to help w something, they approach me looking all tense and worked up like Ill slice their head off for asking me to help them with their math lmao

- A classmate (and friend, apparently) of my friend once didnt want to come out and meet me when I went to my friends school to give her something because she thought Id beat her up (for context I found out she said some nasty things to my friend and was not happy about it)

- Being told by ppl (esp men) that I remind them of characters who are villains

- People esp girls not liking me for no reason or being rude

- Guys in relationships being extremely cold and rude to me or even shittalking me to their gfs (you can guess why)

- People trying to 'put you in your place'

- Recognizing other lilithians immediately

- Being insecure about your private parts, your body in general and your appearance

- Sex obsession since a young age

- Sexual harassment unfortunately

#lilith #astro observations #astro placements #horoscope #plutonian #astrology #lilith square ascendant #lilith astrology #lilith aspects #pluto placements #tw mysoginy

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slut4thebroken · 3 months ago

Text

Blue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | It’s way too easy to find a lab coat lying around, walk the halls of a doctor’s office unnoticed, and read the charts posted outside the rooms to pick a patient (victim).

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, technically non con, deepthroating, filthy oral (duh), throat pie, face fucking, blue balls, used the word ‘balls’ way too many times lol.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Based a lil bit on this that I saw the other day lol. Idk what this is tbh but enjoy it you horny bastards.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Mr. Lewis?” You asked, peeking in through the door, pleased to find a decently attractive man sitting in a hospital gown on the exam chair.

“Yeah— yes.” He cleared his throat, blushing a little at his flustered response. “Neil.” You pushed the door open the rest of the way, then closed it behind you, smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you, Neil. I’ll be checking you out today. What seems to be wrong?”

“I’ve been having some stomach issues. I don’t know, it might just be a bug or something.”

“I see… Can you lay back for me please?” You walked over and opened some drawers until you found a spare stethoscope, then put it on, pressing it to his lower stomach and nodding a little before moving it somewhere else. “Hm…” You said with a frown.

“What?” He asked, sounding slightly panicked.

“I think I know what’s wrong, but I need to do a more thorough examination to be sure. May I lift the gown?” His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded so you lifted the bottom of the gown. “I need you to remove the rest of your clothes.”

“Why?” He choked out.

“I suspect you may have epididymal hypertension. It’s quite serious, but very treatable.” His eyes widened even more and you could tell that he was getting nervous, but he still pushed his underwear down, then took them off his legs while you placed the stethoscope back in the drawer. “Thank you, Neil. This examination should be painless, though you might feel slight discomfort.”

Without gloves, you lifted his flaccid cock so it was resting on his stomach, then you cupped his balls, making his breath hitch. Neil was looking anywhere but at you as you fondled and gently squeezed his balls, performing your “examination.”

“It’s as I feared.” You sighed, still cupping them. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the discomfort in your abdomen spreading to your testes. Thankfully, the treatment for this is quick and relatively simple.” With your free hand, you suddenly grasped his cock and started pumping it slowly.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” He choked out, hips instinctively flinching up toward your hand.

“Mr. Lewis, if you go any longer without ejaculating, the pain could spread to more parts of your body and become irreversible.” You said sternly, not faltering in your ministrations on his cock and balls.

“Ejaculating?” He echoed in disbelief. “But I- I just… this morning.” He was struggling to speak as his cock fattened up in your hand.

“For some men, they can last longer between sessions. But for others, like yourself, they need to release sperm multiple times a day or they risk it building up to an unsafe amount.” You explained, picking up the pace on his cock.

“Because of the severity of your condition, a simple extraction with just my hands won’t suffice.” That was all you said before diving down and throating his cock all in one go.

“Fuck!” His hips bucked wildly, so you used your hand that was previously on his cock to hold him down and limit his movement. “T-This… doesn’t seem- professional.” He managed to choke out, barely able to speak as he writhed on the exam table. You bobbed up and down on his length quickly, drooling and gagging on his cock as it kept getting fatter and harder in your mouth. He threw his head back with a groan, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the chair.

You moaned around his cock, then suddenly pulled off, spitting on it obscenely before diving down to give his balls some attention. His cock twitched on his stomach as you licked, sucked, and kissed all over, making a slobbery mess of saliva. When he started whining and squirming, you grabbed his cock to resume stroking it while you lavished his aching balls.

“Holy shit,” he said through a breath, his back arching off the chair.

“They’re so swollen…” You mumbled against him, then your tone turned more stern as you chastised him, “You can’t let it get this bad, Neil.”

“I- I’m sorry.” He mewled, the words trailing off into another moan.

“You should be. This kind of thing can be very dangerous.” He whined loudly when you pulled away from his balls, still stroking his cock. “If you don’t drain your balls at least twice a day from now on, your condition will continue to get worse, do you understand?”

“Yes.” He choked out, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Do you need to come now?”

“Oh god- please.” He sobbed, his hips bucking and squirming relentlessly under your touch.

“Give me every last drop or we’ll have to do the treatment again.” Neil nodded dumbly in response. You leaned down to start sucking his cock again, your hand moving back to his balls that were starting to draw up into his body as he got closer to his orgasm. You practically sucked the life out of him with the way you were rapidly going up and down on his cock, taking it in your throat, choking and gagging on it, spit dribbling down to his balls.

“F-Fuck… I’m so close.” He whined, starting to thrust his hips up in time with your movements, meeting you halfway. You let him do it, using one hand to brace yourself on his thigh while the other played with his balls.

“Every drop.” You reminded him, barely pulling away enough to get the words out. He was panting heavily, grunting and moaning, his cock twitching in your mouth, and his balls tightening up, preparing to unload.

“…Coming-” was all he could get out before his hips violently bucked up into your mouth. He let out a loud moan, his balls pulsing in your hand as they pumped out ropes of come through his cock and down your throat. You moaned around him, not stopping until you completely drained him dry.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily. Neil kept his eyes closed as he recovered while you did another physical examination of his balls, making him whine because of how sensitive he was.

“They feel less swollen already.” You smiled. “How do they feel?”

“Good.” He murmured, still come drunk.

“That’s good. Remember, Neil, at least twice a day.” He nodded and you pulled the gown back into place, then cleared your throat and wiped away the remaining spit from your lips and chin. “I’ll send a nurse in to give you your visit summary.”

“M’kay.” He mumbled sleepily, smiling a tiny bit. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I’m glad I could help.” You opened the door quietly and peaked out, then quickly left the room and closed the door behind you, making your way to the bathroom. Once inside, you took off the lab coat you had found earlier and stuffed it in the trash can.

Neil was definitely your favorite so far. Either he was too dumb to realize something was off about his “doctor” or he was just so starved for female attention that he didn’t care. Either way, you loved that he barely put up a fight or asked any questions, and you felt more than satisfied for today after “treating” him.

#neil lewis x reader smut #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #cillian murphy

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lologoinsolo · 3 months ago

Text

Part 3, Part 4

Minds Us All Masterlist

TW: Mentions of seizures, choking to induce visions, epilepsy and schizophrenia is mentioned, I don’t think there’s more but tell me if there is

Price stands by the board, his arms crossed over his chest as he reads over the scans and the numerous notes from the doctors that Nik sent over. The doctors were as thorough as could be expected but it left more questions than answers.

—High stress and anxiety could be the root cause for her seizures or there could be a potential for something more. The Patient's mother had a history of depression but nothing to indicate anything else. Patient’s health records show that she has not been tested prior for epilepsy or schizophrenia or for being at risk of seizures.

—Paitent experienced no symptoms of those neurological disorders at her young age despite being tested as per the request of Patient’s mother. Granted, the last time the patient was seen by her primary doctor was at the age of 9 years old.

—The most recent visit, which was a year ago, the hospital reported that she left without checking herself out. Her health chart only showed a high heart rate but was, surprisingly, not at risk of a heart attack. Unfortunately there is only so much that we are able to do in the short amount of time allotted to us. In our professional opinion, we believe that she is experiencing these hallucinations under strong duress. It could explain how she claims to ‘see’ the things she claimed she did.

Your brainwaves and the brainwaves of a woman around your age with schizophrenia are placed side by side. The difference between the two scans is stark, an ocean wide difference between the two. That woman’s brainwaves are lit up while yours is relatively normal. The doctors that came to see you cannot know for certain the cause behind your ‘sight’. Stress? Anxiety? That’s where it’s all pointing to at the moment.

Logically, this could explain that your ‘sight’ is caused by a stress factor and he could agree with that if you were spouting bullshit—But, you knew. You knew about Johnny’s near death before anyone could and it very well could’ve been explained if you were a spy. Price could work the spy angle but he can’t work around the fact that you knew about Simon’s family. You knew neither of his men on a personal basis and yet Kyle heard you murmur about Sarah, Joseph, Tommy, and Beth in your sleep. Names that he knows for a fact that Simon would never, ever mention even if he was being tortured.

Price takes in a long, hard breath. Laswell digged up everything she could find on you. Only child, mother was in an out of the psyche ward, father never claimed you nor was in the picture. At age thirteen, your mother took her own life and you were thrown from foster care to foster care up until you were 18 years old. You never went to college, bounced around from job to job. Moved from place to place, constantly moving like you had a reason to. He recalls how bare your apartment was when they came, “no roots to put down.” Laswell found absolutely nothing that ties you to Makarov. Nothing save for coded words you wrote. Furthering the nail into the coffin that you’re not a spy.

His eyes move up from what he’s reading when he hears boots hitting the ground. Doesn’t take a genius to know who’s coming around. “You want to talk to her, don’t you?” Price turns to the side when the Ghost steps inside. Giving his Lieutenant a look, he wasn’t allowed back in your room when the doctors came around.

“Yes.”

“That a good idea?” Ghost’s been spending time longer on the punching bag here lately. Nearly broke it open from how hard he’s been hitting. The safehouse they’re all in allows them a gym of sorts, well… it’s not really a safehouse. This place is Price's, a house far into the country and guarded by numerous trees. A private place that he took you to in hopes of getting quick answers. And just in case you turned out to be what he assumed, there’s enough land here on his property to hide a body from prying eyes.

“Johnny wants to as well.”

Now that… that might be a better alternative. Ghost can handle himself, he’s hung from a meat hook for god sake, he knows how to keep a handle on his emotions. Ever since you made him see what you saw he’s been… off. John’s been keeping a tighter eye on him even though he’s not fully convinced in your ability. He trusts Ghost enough to tell the truth even when it doesn’t sound believable. “Give me ten minutes with her, sir.”

Ten minutes is all he needs, you’ve been awake and alone for the past two days. You willingly allowed the doctors to help you, didn’t argue with them for fear that you’d be killed most likely. Or maybe you knew that they’d find nothing.

“I’ll give you that,” Price uncrosses his arms, stepping towards Ghost and his lieutenant doesn’t move away. Stays still like a statue. “Best to let Johnny go in first before you do, yeah?”

Ghost grunts out a “yes, sir” before he turns to leave. A man on a mission in how he steps. Price needs to sit over this, think over what can be done. Laswell mentioned that you should be tested one more, three times the charm after all.

…

Kyle came in earlier to bring you food and clothes to change out of. You asked him if you would be able to leave now but he gave you no reply. Only placed the food on the table and left. You don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you’re alone and craving some kind of contact or the fact that you’re glad he nor the one called John has come back to interrogate you. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle it once more.

Your mind has been empty, to say the least. The doctors recommended medication but you know they’ll do no good. It’ll only make your curse worse and do you no favors. Sometimes this’ll happen though, sometimes your mind will get so quiet that you’ll beg for a vision. It’s a horrible cycle but it’s one you’ve always known and it’s better than the silence. On the bright side, at least that Ghost hasn’t come back. You don’t know how you’ll react if he does or what he’ll do to you.

There’s a small pinch in the back of your mind but it fizzles away almost as quickly as it came. You brace yourself for what’s bound to come.

A knock sounds on your door, an illusionment of courtesy. The knob turns and in walks a man that you’ve met twice but have seen over a hundred times over in your mind. “Hello, bonnie.” There’s a jagged pink scar on his left side, his hairs a little longer, not the mohawk you saw originally. Beard grown out and scraggly looking, he looks rougher than you remember. “Can we,” he pauses a little to step into the room and you freeze up when Ghost steps in as well. “Can we just talk?”

Ignoring him in favor of seeing him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you immediately say to Ghost. “I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know I could do that. I’m sorry.” You still see his family's faces in your mind, can smell their blood staining the walls and on their Christmas tree. You’ve seen a lot of things but you could never stomach seeing deaths. “I’m—“

“Hey, hey,” Johnny comes your way as he speaks gently to quell your rolling anxiety. Your body flinches involuntarily from where you’re sitting on your bed by the sound of his steps. “Ye didnae ken ye could do tha’. We just want to talk.” Johnny pulls up a chair and notices the food at the table. You haven’t touched it nor the other two plates either. “Ye need tae eat, lass,” he laughs slightly, hoping to ease you, “when I was in and out of the hospital I—“

“I want to go home.” You cut him off. His hand twitches, “tell them, tell them I’m not a spy or a soldier or—“

“And where would you go home to, little bird?” Ghost’s arms are crossed over his chest. He stands besides Johnny, “got a place to go home to that we haven’t figured out yet?” Johnny turns to give Ghost a look but he ignores it in favor of continuing on. “Your visions tell you where to live now?”

“I’m sorry that you saw what you did. That wasn’t my intention, it’s never my intention. I can—“

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He growls out, your knees tuck to your chest immediately. “How did you see them? Tell me.”

“Ghost,” Johnny tries to intervene in some way but it’s no use.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Your voice growing insistent, begging for him to understand. “It’s— it just happens. I-I can’t help it.”

“Can’t help it.” Ghost mutters under his breath. The muscles in his back are tense, pulled taunt. You’re like a fluttering bird in a cage from how you squawk the same thing over and over again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Apologizing.” He takes a step towards you and you scoot back further up the bed, practically pressing yourself into the corner. Johnny stands and places a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. The anger simmers only a little but the tension still stays. Ghost’s hands ball and flex, “can you do it again?” He asks, more like demands.

There’s a hush pause that overtakes the room, even Johnny looks to you for an answer. “I…” you swallow thickly, shaking your head slightly. “I might?”

“Might?” He doesn’t sound pleased with how unsure you sound.

“It’s uh…” you never knew how to explain it, your mother could never explain it herself either. “When…” you take a breath, “when you look into a kaleidoscope do you see the same thing if you move it around?” Johnny shakes his head no but Ghost does nothing, “that’s… that’s kinda how it’s like for me. Sometimes it’s clear enough that I can see it many times,” flickering to Johnny, his moments haunted you for the longest after all. “I don’t know if I can see yours again, Ghost.” His was more than just his memory, it showed a pocket of time before he even saw it. “I’m,” you almost say sorry again but you bite your lip.

“Price said ye started seeing mine after we met,” one accidental touch that led you here. Your visions never hanged around long, it’s why you came to the practice of writing them down. Your curse, for some reason, latched onto Johnny’s future and never let it go. “Saw it for about a year, did ye ken ye’d find me? Is that why ye came up to me?”

You cross your legs, feeling just a smidge at ease while you pick away at your fingers. “I couldn’t have day to myself without seeing you.” You look down to the shorts you're wearing, missing the look that settles in Johnny’s eyes. “There would be this static feeling in my head the closer I thought I got to you.” He was like a flame and you a moth, only the static got louder and louder the closer you were next to him that day. Maybe you weren’t supposed to find him…

“I’m sorry, hen.” You shake your head but he slowly steps closer to the bed. His knees bumbing the edge of the mattress. “I wouldnae be alive without ye. I heard yer voice in my head when I was on that mission. Heard ye screamin’ for me to pull back and I did.” He’s calm in his approach as he takes a seat now. Scared you’ll try to bolt off the bed if he moves too quickly. “Fucker still got me.” He points to his head, the scar telling a story of an almost death. You prevented that. “Shoulda seen me in recove—“

“Let me go home— please.” He sighs at your attempt to leave once more. “I won’t say anything, I won’t talk about this to anyone—“ your muscles seize when Ghost comes closer, his steps heavy against the floor. There’s no way to leave, you know their names save for Ghost. You’re hanging by a thread that can be snipped at any movement. “Please.” You can’t run or they’ll give chase but even then, there’s only so much space left in here. Boxed completely in with one sitting on the bed and one that could easily tackle you.

“I want ye to try,” Johnny sits closer to you now, the bed groaning under joined weights. “See somethin’ again, show me somethin’, hen.” His hands start moving for you now. “Can ye do that for me?”

“I-I don’t know if I can. I don’t,” you bite your bottom lip when his hands wrap around your wrists. His fingers wrapping firmly around them but still enough room that you could twist if you wanted to. “Please, stop. I don’t know if I can make it happen.” There’s the smallest of a buzz in the back of your head. “I’ve never been able to—“

“Try,” is all he says as he pulls you forward enough that you have to sit on your knees. Your trembling, fingers shaking as he maneuvers your hands to cup his face. You can’t pull away even when you try to do so. His blue eyes search yours, his scar damn near pulsing under your cold hands. “Just try, lass.”

Wobbly and unsteady like a newborn doe, your knees are weak as you close your eyes. Brows pinching tight lines in forceful concentration. Your curse only works when it wants to, never for you. The time spent goes to show that it’s not working the way they want it to, “I can’t,” you say once more. “It’s not working.” Hoping they’ll understand, you’ve never been able to just make it happen.

“Maybe you need some motivation,” Ghost doesn’t give you a chance to turn as he lands a solid hand on the back of your neck. The air you had in your lungs punches out, “just need some fear to get it rolling.” The last two times was through fear and if he needs to choke you out then he will.

“S-Stop—“

“I’ll start squeezing,” he warns, his thumb digging in, “won’t take much to make you pop.” He’s cruel in his laughter, Johnny says nothing as his grip stays steady even when you try to tug. “I’ve broken necks easily, just needs,” Ghost’s thumb presses deeper over your raging pulse, “enough force and it’ll crack.”

“Please!” Chest heaving now, anxiety shoots through the roof as your eyes are wet and frantic. You can’t move back, can’t move forward, can’t even swing to the side to get away. You try once more to make it work but, “it’s not wor—“ gasping suddenly. The walls of your throat tightens from his fingers coiling around it like a vice grip. A sharp static jolts to life, his hand squeezes more, air begins being cut off from you.

Your vision starts building up faster, almost painfully now as your grip onto Johnny’s head tightens. An itching, scratching noise burrows in the back of your head. There’s a screeching, halting sound, like nails that claw down a chalkboard but stops before finishing. It echos in Johnny’s ear that he winces at the same time you do. Your vision blurs whether because of the loss of air or because your curse is letting you see once more.

Laughter. Kids, 4. 1 boy. 3 girls. Blue eyes. Backyard. Swing set, swinging. Laughter.

Johnny inhales a breath, he sees the blurred moments alongside you begin to form. Like a projector being cranked to make an old timey movie start. It’s slow but starts to pick up in pace, pushing through the memory faster and faster. Barreling down the spirals of a pocket of time.

You can see a young Johnny playing with his sisters. It’s a warm sunny day, the heat beating down on them and you. He’s swinging and his mother is yelling at him to get off to come eat some snacks. He swings as high as he can before jumping right off. His sisters scream when he lands hard, blood on his mouth and he pulls a tooth out. There’s laughter from him, he’s laughing. His sister, his oldest sister is—

You struggle for air, lungs painfully begging for something to breathe in. You're pulled out, shoved forcefully away from the memory. Figures form in the shadows as your eyes look wildly around. “Good,” you hear Johnny say but it’s distant, far away from you. Miles away. Your forehead is heavy against his shoulder, you don’t know when you did that. Did you do that? Must’ve done so as your mind started twisting into knots, for once you don’t convulse like you typically do but something is wrong. Really wrong.

Ghost let go of your throat the second you started gasping for air. Only seconds for him but to you? You saw 30 minutes of Johnny’s memory. “Well?” He peers down at the both of you, “report, Johnny.”

Johnny tugs you easily into his lap, your body limp against him. “I saw it, Ghost. Saw it like I was there.” They speak now as if you’re not there. Are you here? Where are you right now? Your head tucked under his chin as your heart beats fast while you feel like your realities are blurring and blending together. “We cannae let her leave.”

“Never planned to, Sergeant.” A voice that’s not Ghost’s sounds from behind the two. Price leans against the door frame, he knew they were up to something. Just had to let it happen.

The shadows dance around in your mind, the kaleidoscopes of moments and memories of your own past starts to mash together. The webs are all sticking and rolling into a ball. You feel like you're floating and crashing at the same time. It’s becoming harder and harder to pull away from it. Harder to separate what’s real and what isn’t. Johnny holds tighter to you when you begin shaking. Head hitting against his chest as—

“We need to sedate her.”

— the static buzzing noise sharpens louder and louder. Your fingers spasm and hands thrash around, writing out words in the air. Make it stop, make it stop.—

“Not yet,” Price comes forward with a pen and paper, “she’s seeing something.” Ghost watches in cold curiosity, his eyes squinting under his mask as Price sticks a pen into your thrashing hand. He balls his over your right hand and holds the paper in his left. You jerk it around, scribbling jagged lines till words start forming.

Stop. Stop. Make it. Stop. Let go me. Let. Hand, Let.

“Tell me where Makarov is.” He whispers into your ear. “Where is Vladimir Makarov?” Your eyes roll back into your head as your legs kick out. The lower half of your body flails about while your upper is held tightly. “Write it down.” His voice echos in your head, becoming like an arrow as it breaks through the maze. Zeros you in like a beacon to follow and you fall deeper into the spirals of your vision.

Make it. Make off. Her. Her in. Rus. Northern. Lights north. Rush, make her off. Old. Building. Under, under. Guarded. Old, guarded. Weapons.

You fill the page with words you see that pile in your head. Picture like moments pour into your mind’s eye of a man you’ve never seen. It’s only half a second intervals, like someone’s slowed down the internet speed to the lowest setting possible.

Man. Man, 1. Talk, yells. Rush in. Rush. Hidden. Under. Ground under. Men. Loyal. Men. Men. Men. Cold, snow. New Clear. Nu. Er. Er, boots. Boots. Boots. Blinding Lighstj thaoies gbauqot—

Price pulls the paper away once your words start becoming unreadable. “Good enough,” he gives no sedation this time. You’ve never needed it before, “let her rest, Soap.” He allows you that as your left on your side. Soap reluctantly stands up as you're left to tremble, you’ll pull out on your own time. He reads over what was written and a location comes to mind. “I’ve a feeling I know where our Russian is.”

#lolowrites #minds us all #psychic!reader #141 x you #taskforce 141 x reader #141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #tw seizure #tw choking #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john mactavish x you #kyle garrick x reader

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starssbythepocketful · 3 months ago

Text

Pretty Girl, Jealous Girl

Word Count : 1.2k

Part Two (Part 2 is NSFW)

Part of my Spencer Agnew x Hecox!Reader AU

Contains: Female reader, mention of drinking (reader has 2 drinks totes), party setting, jealous reader, some other lady hits on readers man, small make-out scene, suggestive ending(?). Pic found on Pinterest

Smosh Masterlist

You didn’t go to parties very often. Neither did your boyfriend, Spencer. But, being Ian’s sister meant getting dragged to the occasional LA Youtuber Party.

And that’s exactly where the night found you. You had forgotten who’s house you were at, not sure Ian had actually told you, two drinks into the evening and still aware enough to get by–for the most part, Spencer had already stated that he wasn’t planning on drinking, that way he could still drive the both of you back to his apartment. You knew some of the people present, a few other Smosh members had come, and you were fairly certain you had seen Markiplier at some point but it was too fuzzy to be sure. You and Spencer hadn’t planned on staying long, Friday night parties tended to get hectic and wild and it wasn’t really either of your scenes. But, you loved hanging out with your friends, so what harm could a few hours do?

A lot apparently.

The night had started out fun. You had quickly found the other members of your Smosh group–Shayne and Courtney, Ian, Anthony, Angela, Amanda, and Olivia. Then, of course, you and Spencer completed the group. There had been a karaoke machine set up and you and Amanda had swooped in and had the time of your lives singing Mama Mia. Now that it had gotten deeper into the night, you chose to stick back a bit more. Who knew who would record and circulate your awful renditions of Abba songs.

You and Spencer had actually been gearing up to go for a while, you just didn’t know where he was. He had said something about saying goodbye to Shayne and Courtney, while you finished your drink with Angela out on the back patio.

“You know what, I’m just gonna go find him, he’s probably talking to Shayne about something,” you said to Angela. “I’ll see you Monday morning?”

She looked over at you, quickly swallowing the sip of her drink. “Want me to come with?”

You smiled and shook your head. “Nah, I’ve got it! Finish your drink and have some fun! Text me when you get home though, that way I don’t worry.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you later!” Angela gave you a quick hug before heading off to locate Amanda.

Making your way back inside, you took note of how much more crowded it had gotten in your time outdoors. The kitchen was fuller and you knew that you no longer recognized most of the faces. The now crowded space made your head spin as you pushed your way through the bodies into a less crowded room.

You made your way into a dining area and caught sight of your brother talking to Anthony and someone else you didn’t recognize.

“Ian, have you seen Spencer?” you asked, coming up to the group.

Both of the men turned to you.

“I think he’s in the living room?” Ian stated. “Last I saw he was talking to Shayne and Court.”

“Can you not find him?” Anthony asked.

You shook your head. “No, I just hadn’t made it that far and thought I’d save myself the trouble."

"You staying at Spencer's tonight?" Ian asked.

"Yeah," you said.

Your older brother nodded, "'Kay, text me when you get there so I know you aren't dead."

You laughed, having basically just told Angela the same thing. "Will do."

You said bye to Ian and Anthony, nodded to their other conversation partner and left the dining room in search of your boyfriend.

The living room was packed and the speaker was loud, some Chart Topping song blasting way too loud for comfort. Definitely time to go.

Your first quick scan of the living room yielded no familiar faces, so you made your way deeper into the room.

Only to catch sight of your boyfriend and some woman you had never seen before. Spencer's back was to you, but the look on the girls face made your stomach roll. You stopped.

And rage reared it's ugly head as you watched her put her hand on his chest and lean forward.

Spencer, to his credit, pushed her hand away and stepped back, stance becoming closed off. If he said anything, you couldn't hear it over the music.

However, you still felt something grean and mean rear its head. You stomped over to them, taking a spot by Spencer, your eyes never leaving the other woman. Your glare went completely unnoticed by her, she was too drunk to see it.

"Can we help you?" She slurred.

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised and angered by her attitude. “Excuse me? You're the one who's putting their hands on my boyfriend. I think I should be the one asking that. Who even are you?"

You squinted at her in the weird party lighting, trying to place who she was. Nothing in your memory came up, maybe she came with someone? Or snuck in? It didn’t matter, she wasn’t worth it anyways.

The woman scowled, opening her mouth but you held up a hand. "Stop. Don't embarass yourself any further. Just..." you made a shoo motion with your hands and turned your entire back to her.

The woman stared at you, slack-jawed, before scowling and storming off.

You let out a deep breath and your rage simmered into annoyance and something you couldn't quite name.

A warm pair of hands tugged at your own, pulling you out of your thoughts and down a hallway, stopping inside of the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"You okay, pretty girl?" Spencer asked softly, his eyes unreadable in the small bathroom.

You focused on him, nodding. "Yeah, I'm good. Just kinda pissed off...and, I dunno. I just didn't like seeing her touch you."

"I'm sorry, babe. I told her, like, three times that I had a girlfriend--"

You shook your head to stop him. "No, Spence, I saw you push her away, you don't have to apologize. I trust you. I just got..." You sighed again, looking down.

Spencer took a step closer. "You just got jealous?"

You nodded as you suddenly became aware of how close the pair of you stood, he was close enough for you to feel his breath. You stared at your hands, mild embarassment flooding you as you picked at your nails.

"Pretty girl," Spencer's voice was soft. "You gonna look at me?" His hands had settled lightly on your hips, the familiar smell of him clouding your senses.

You look up, meeting his eyes. What you saw surprised you. You could barely see the color with how blown out his pupils were.

“It was hot watching you tell her off,” he explained, crowding closer to you. “Like, really hot.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

The party on the other side of the door faded into a background hum as he kissed you. Where you were used to lazy makeout sessions and warmth, you were unprepared for the heat.

You weren’t even aware that you had moved until you felt him pushing you up against the bathroom door, warm hands rubbing circles on your hips as you threaded your hands into his hair. Teeth tugged at your bottom lip and you let yourself get caught up in him.

Eventually he pulled away and you frowned. Spencer pressed his forehead to your shoulder, pulling himself together as the pair of you caught your breath.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said. “I’ll take care of you at home.”

xXx

Part 2! (NSFW)

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #fanfiction #thismothwrites

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aklaustaleteller · 1 year ago

Text

Some Invisible String

Ever since the news of Klaus' death reached her, Y/n's heart remained shattered as she happily accepted the sole purpose of her immortal life to be mourning her love. But then a looming shadow out of the Mystic Grill catches her attention and to whom is it that some invisible string had tied to her for centuries?

Warnings - a lot of grief in the beginning but it ends happily I swear!

Word Count - 1.9k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

And part two to 'Should've known' is here!! I don't know how the hell did I manage to involve the song Invisible String into this, but it's turned out to be quite cute in my opinion, so I hope you like it as well <3

Y/n lived on to live a life as merely a withered shell of who she used to be. That new vampire girl who had found solace in Klaus’s human arms and in art, the one who had just begun falling back in love with life was long gone, stripped off of Y/n as if she’d been skinned alive.

Doing anything sent a heartstopping wave of hurt rippling through her flesh and bones. When she breathed it felt like air burned her lungs and tried to strangle her heart, leaving her mouth as she'd wake up gasping for it to return back inside and finish the job.

Tears pricked her eyes each night, her sniffles blocking out the air making her throat feel like it was being ripped out, her lungs and heart as if they were collapsing. That’d be, until she’d finally fall into that peaceful slumber in which she’d always return to lay in Klaus’ arms after being torutured by the grief that consumed her wholly.

So wholly that her sole purpose for the immortal life ahead of her felt like it was to mourn and grieve her love. Something that she’d been willing to do just to preserve her love for him, for always and forever.

But living in a world that took birth, grew old and then died, Y/n could go anywhere she wanted, anywhere but home to Klaus. She was left with no other option than to just flee before she could even mistakenly call a place her home.

It had been three hundred years. Three hundred years of restless nights, lifeless days and a heartless blood thirst that had her leaving a trail of blood behind on her move. So many years spent hiding her face beneath cloak-hoods, running into other supernatural creatures who were immediately frightened by her post in the vampire chart, and running away from the stupidly careless killers who couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that were she to die, every single vampire would end up dead too.

It was rare for her to lose her patience, but it happened nonetheless – on the nights that she wanted to be wanted, to be loved and to be held so desperately that she couldn’t bear sight of a beating heart that was caged in the warmth of another’s safe hands.

No matter where she went, she couldn’t forget about him. It had taken her a while to realise that she didn’t want to forget him, but in the meantime that she hadn’t, she had turned away from everything else that she loved. From art, to history. Everything.

She avoided all of her dark red dresses as they reminded her of him never once failing to tell her how much he loved the colour on her, so much so that he’d bring that colour to her face while he’d slowly slip the dress off of her. So gentle was his heart that he even loved the crimson red that would slip out of the corners of her mouth when she’d feed, either off of him or anyone else – the way he’d wipe it off for her, and kiss her on the very same lips made her heart race to the point that she felt like she might just die from his touch.

On letting another hand graze her frame, she couldn’t help but stop it before things could escalate because her heart couldn’t let her mind to just let go for a little. Looks of disappointment and calls of slurs would be thrown at her by betrayed men, smirks or sympathetic looks passed to her by women who were witnesses to the assault.

Despite the cunning shards of her broken heart cutting her on the insides, she woke up every day and went outside to explore, just so that she could tell Klaus about it on starry nights, which were getting rarer and rarer in some places, Y/n had realised.

Just like every other morning since the past fifty or so years, she woke up and got decent before leaving her house. This day, she was walking the streets of Mystic falls, a small town that might’ve been attracting a little too much trouble than it can handle. And it was always the teenage girl with two vampires brooding over her who seemed to be the main magnetic pull, taking everyone who loved her with her into the dark pit that she’d dug herself.

Strolling inside the Mystic Grill, Y/n looked around and her eyes quickly met with the raven-haired man’s, who waved at her like he was a Villain going around toying with people like his puppets. It made her chuckle but despite that, she walked over to him and sat on one of the bar stools beside him.

“One Old fashioned please,” she told the bartender before turning to face him with a smile on her face. “So Damon, got another deal to make this morning?” She teased him, smirking once he was rolling his eyes.

“You know me so well,” with a sarcastic smile, Damon downed the rest of his drink. “And yes, I have got one,” he admitted, still.

Since she’d set foot in this town, the whiny group that consisted of him and his friends had been breathing down her neck, trying to strike a deal with her left right and centre as if she was going to say yes just out of pure annoyance.

And they should’ve caught by now, the fact that she wasn’t one to lose patience over such lousy things but she didn’t mind the constant bother, it kept her busy and a little entertainer, dare she say.

She would even sit with them in their boarding house and point out the unimaginably huge plot holes in their plans that led Damon to slam her into a wall with his hand around her neck. “You make one for her if you’re so clever, then,” he’d snarl and before he could let her go, she’d have smashed his face right into the wall she’d been pinned to.

“How stupid do you have to be to make such mistakes is beyond me,” she’d sighed. “One of these days you’re going to get your heart bloody ripped out,” she almost advised him, narrowing her eyes when he rolled his, holding his head in pain.

But still, because she’d crashed into people who were somewhat similar to her and didn’t need to hide from, she found herself wanting to stay a little longer, maybe she was finally going to let it rest and begin picking up the pieces of her broken heart. She doubted she was ever going to be able to put it back together, but at least she would have them picked up.

“What is it?” She asked Damon, knowing that even he knew that it’d be rejected the moment he’d spill it.

“We are going to kill Katherin…” Damon trailed off, not even meeting her eyes because despite the fact that he’d convinced everyone back at the house, he knew that this was nothing but a dire call for a mess out of stupidity.

They sat in there for a while, Y/n pointing out mistakes and Damon glaring at her before fixing the hole and moving on. The time had quickly escaped them and as their conversation neared an end, a strong force of gravity began pulling her heart down into her stomach, knowing that the restless night was finally creeping up on her, all over again.

She hugged him quite awkwardly because of Damon’s disdain regarding touch, and walked behind him as they exited the place. The sun had begun setting, causing the anxiousness inside Y/n to begin eating away at her for the night. “I hope I won’t have to see you tomorrow, you exhaust my brain,” Y/n mumbled, fishing out her car keys.

“Oh c’mon, you know my stupidity will kill me,” he repeated her words, making her roll her eyes with a grin forming on her face. Biding their goodbyes, Damon crossed the road to walk home while Y/n went to her right, towards her car.

And it was then when she noticed a dark figure looming in the shadows, making her clutch her keys tighter. God, she truly wasn’t in the mood to kill today.

“And you are?” She asked, still at the very distance that she’d stalled at, her vamp-instincts buzzing underneath her skin, preparing her to defend herself from a possible attack and to kill the darer.

The man walked out of the shadows then, the streetlight shining down on him. He slowly raised his gaze but when it landed on her face, all arrogance and smugness dropped down from his face as he felt his breathing come to an abrupt stop.

Y/n knew she most likely had the same expression on her face as the man standing in front of her, and she began taking hindering and wobbly steps towards him. “Is that you, Nik?” She breathed, her whisper loud enough to be caught by his mystical hearing.

When he didn’t move an inch, her hand frantically moved to place itself on his neck. “Niklaus?” She called louder this time, bringing him out of his trance as a sudden rush of air hit his lungs.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his hand coming to hold hers and in whoosh they had their arms wrapped so tightly around each other that it was a surprise not a bone had cracked. Klaus’ body immediately came to rest as it remembered this feeling to be the very same as when Y/n used to hold him, back in the days.

Klaus was really here and she was in his arms, and he was holding onto her with just as much desperation as she was.

She brought herself away from his neck, tears leaking out of her eyes as she scanned his face. “How?” Her question came out in a breath that Klaus immediately sucked in, pressing his lips to hers.

Passion coursed through their bodies as Y/n’s body moulded itself around Klaus’ to grasp at every scrap of touch it could find. Her hands clutched the collars of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to herself while she pushed herself into him, her nose smushing against his cheek.

And Klaus’s shoulders were bunched up beside his neck as his hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still as his tongue clashed with hers, eager to claim back what's been his for a long time.

To catch their breaths, they broke the kiss but Klaus made sure he was still holding her and he looked into her eyes when she rested her forehead against his’.

��It was your blood,” Klaus smiled at her, watching something light up within her eyes on realisation.

“I’ve spent all these years looking for you,” he continued, pressing a quick kiss on her mouth. “It was as if there was some invisible string, tying me to you,” he looked at her so softly with tears reddening his eyes that Y/n couldn’t help but let slip a broken sob, her face wet with her own tears.

“Isn’t it so pretty to think?” She asked him, voice barely above a whisper as her mouth brushed against his when she spoke. “That a single thread of gold tied me to you?”

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sheepispink · 4 months ago

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okay i’ve been following you on AO3 and accidentally found your tumblr 😭 but i’ve had this idea and i literally can’t get it out of my head so i wanted to request it to you 🧎

jazzsinger!reader (or like a popular singer/actor mayhaps a model 👀) x Simon “Ghost” Riley | okay so imagine reader has been frequently going to a cafe that ghost also goes to, and they kinda just bond because both of them are wearing a mask (or something to cover their face ex. mask and glasses with baseball cap) while barely talking to anyone except to order their drinks (i’m a tea girlie and i love me a good cup of oolong tea 🫡). I just imagine some 6’1 dude in all black next to someone noticeably smaller also wearing black attire staring menacingly at the wall waiting for their drinks. Then after a while they grab their drinks, look at each other, nod, then leaves without uttering a word. Then after a while it turns into a romantic relationship and when introduced to everyone else (the task force) they just lose it cause how does the skull wearing weirdo on their team get a smoking hot partner 🤨

Anyways please take my humble request with a grain of salt

-🫄

i have tried, whether i have succeeded i do not know but i did have a lot of fun with this one so thank you very much for the ask!! Also mind my spelling mistakes, its like way too early rn LOL

You don't know how this even started, or who this man really is besides that you always walk in at the same time each morning and most of the people here are terrified. It’s likely his stature, 6’1 and dressed in all back, though you’re not too different yourself. Working as a singer and occasional model meant fans would be found in the most unlikely places, especially since your recent single blew the charts entirely. After your fans spotted you at your last local grocery store, you’ve had to take your own drastic measures, dressing in practically all black with a mask and a baseball cap just for good measure. So, in one way or another, you two were practically matching as you stood waiting for your drinks. Infact, it occured so often that your drinks would be served together; your hands brush as you pick up your cups until you glance up at each other and give a quick nod before disappearing again.

That was until today, where you walked in to see the man had gotten to the line before you for once, however it was much longer than usual. Still you waited patiently, humming your new song to yourself as the queue slowly moves, albeit very very slowly. Eventually you get fed up, peering round the hunk of a man to see what or who’s holding it up. “Bloody kids.. dont even know what they’re doin’ ”The man grunts out, surprising you as he looks back and you nod, looking forward. Two young teenagers were working, though they looked far too inexperienced especially with their hair not even up around the baked goods nor aprons on. But that wasnt the worst of it— no, they were just sloppy in general, having to remake coffees and not even knowing the measurements for each type. “Guess they have to start somewhere..” You hum, a small sigh leaves you although the man doesnt say anything back, clearly not taking a liking to his coffee being so delayed. Well, you cant exactly blame him.

Finally, you both stand to the side as the kids prepare your drinks, with you occasionally checking your watch considering you have to grab an uber to your producer's house for a quick meeting. You were close, practically growing up together since you went to the same university. Being late would cause problems though, and you tap your foot a little, wondering how hard it is to make a simple oolong tea. “Order 55 and 56!” You both step forward as always, reaching for your drinks until you realise this doesnt look like your oolong tea at all. Peeking at the label, you realise you had accidentally take his, hence ‘Simon’ written on the side.

”Think I took yours Simon.” You’ve got a little bit of a cheeky note to your voice since discovering this information about him, making him roll his eyes. He hands the cup over to you and reaches for his out of your hands. That’s when your brows furrow, realising why you even picked up the wrong one in the first place.

”Hey— this isnt even your drink. It’s a latte.” You hold it up to him and he peeks through the lid, eyes narrowing beneath his balaclava but settling again. “It’s fine—“

”No it’s not.”

Before he can try and stop you, you’ve already walked up to the counter and facing the lazy teenager there who had been mid-call with her friend. “He asked for a black coffee, not this.” You narrow your eyes at her, annoyed by her clear incompetence especially as she didnt seem to care at all that she was supposed to be working. “It’s just a bit of milk; he wont die.” She shrugs, only making you all the more annoyed as you pull down your mask. “Make a new one, now. Do you even know how many people would beg for a job of yours?”

The teenager is more shook by the fact you’re the jazz singer that she’s been a die hard fan of for the past year and she just embarrassed herself in front of you by acting like an idiot. “I- i’m so sorry! I’ll make it now!” She scurries off to make it, and you feel the presence of the soldier behind you again, glancing down at you.

“Didnt know you had a pretty face hiding beneath all tha’ ” He hums, noticing how your cheeks flush just a tad before you pull the mask back up.“Thanks, you didn't have to.”

You can only shrug, letting your hands fall from their stance on your hips. “It was nothing.. you’re right, they’re stupid kids.” He chuckles, watching the girl scurry quickly over and hand him the drink as she profusely apologises to you over and over.

The two of you leave the store, with you groaning as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Damnit..” He raises a brow towards you, his mask crinkling slightly as you take your phone out, pulling up the uber app. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, lifting his mask a tad to sip the coffee before lowering it again. “I won't be able to come back to this coffee shop anymore..”

”Oh? Too many fans?” Surprisingly his voice has a teasing lilt to it, making you look up at him with wide eyes before hiding your gaze again. “Yeah.. not that i’m not grateful but it can be tiring.”

”C’mon, i’ll give you a ride, that uber will take forever.”

He takes your number after he drops you off at your friend's house, leaving you with radio silence. Then, the next morning he sends an address, more specifically a coffee shop that he particularly likes and where you can start anew until the fans die down. Sometimes he’ll give you a ride after and he’ll even text when you’re late for your coffee run. It shifts into regular texts, longer conversations, brushing hands as you wait for your drinks he paid for, still with that same menacing stare. On an off chance he may just annoy you just a tad, leaning his arm on your head as you look up at him in horror before giving him a faux punch. “I’m not that short!”

Somehow, you end up meeting his task force, your hand held tightly in his. “T-this is your partner?” Gaz’s jaw is dropped just as much as Soap’s is, only Price chuckling at the whole situation. None of them had ever believed that Ghost would get a bird, especially not one as pretty as you are. “Hi everyone.”

You grin, finally pulling down your baseball cap and Soap nearly topples over right there and then. Gaz has his gaze flicking between you two, from Simon’s sharp eyes and black out to your bright face and sweet grin. “ What..?? When..?? How?!”

They drag you over to the couch promptly after, forcing you to tell them all about how you two met and if Ghost really is a softie after all. Meanwhile, Price pats Ghost on the shoulder, the stiff man still tense since he thought this whole meeting wouldnt go too well. “You know they wont let this go, right?”

“..I know.” Simon huffs, but he’s grinning behind the mask.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #cod fluff #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #ghost x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty drabble

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astrolook · 3 months ago

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Synastry & Composite Observations from Clients

Astrology is a fantastic tool—it reveals the energy between two people, the potential of a relationship. But let’s be clear: good synastry does not mean lasting love, and a “perfect” composite chart doesn’t guarantee happiness. At the end of the day, charts don’t live our lives—we do.

Today, I’m sharing some synastry and composite chart observations from my clients—because astrology says 'meant to be,' but my clients said 'absolutely not.'

We love looking at celeb couple charts and going, ‘Ah yes, they’re together because of this Venus-Mars magic!’ or ‘Their composite Moon in the 7th seals the deal!’ But no—people are much more than their charts. Timing, attraction, emotional baggage, and plain old life all play a role. Some couples with dreamy synastry crash and burn, while others with absolute train-wreck charts somehow make it work for decades. Astrology is fun, but love? Love is beyond these things.

Client 1: Wanted to know whether the guy she's seeing is compatible with her. Synastry shown some conjunctions, both good and hard aspects and sexual intimacy as well. But looking at his natal chart , he had North Node in his 8th house of Taurus. I had a feeling that he is either bisexual or homosexual. Along with the explanation of all aspects and placements, I concluded that they do have sexual intimacy but his north node in his 8th house says something about his sexuality. Their composite chart had Virgo stellium in 10th house which had venus-moon-mars aspects. A week later she messaged me saying that guy (one of her friend's brother) is actually gay and not into women at all. When asked how she found out, she said he saw him making out with a guy he usually goes out with (as friends)and he apparently hid it from his family as they are deeply religious.

Client 2: Divorced in 1.5 years. Same career. After divorce, She came to me to know why their marriage didnt work out. Honestly their chart had so much potential. His saturn trined her ascendant. Composite Venus-Mars conjunction in 10th house. Her Gemini Sun falls on his 8th house gemini. Her north node in leo falls on his 10th house leo. Her venus-mercury falls on his 9th house cancer. Her mars on his 11th house virgo. His venus in gemini on her 10th house. her moon in his 5th house of pisces. Some saturn ,venus, mars aspects between them showing great potential. Had composite jupiter in 7th house. Composite Moon in 9th house. I told ever, admitted that, It really looks great on paper, both synastry and composite of theirs, showing sexual compatibility, frequently travelling together etc.

She told me finally that in their 1.5 years of married life, she can count how many times they were together. They do travel together for work and he even helped her career a bit. She concluded her intimacy with him in 2 words, "Dead Bedroom". They slept in different rooms. But seemed to be a marriage out of convenience rather than real love. He wasn't touchy at all. She came out depressed as she really thought they gonna last and had soulmate connection. But, nope. She finally told me after their divorce, he married someone else 3 months later and seemed to be enjoying his life and she felt betrayed as she wasted 6 months of dating and 1.5 years of married life. It is really sad and that client really stood to me. I couldn't sleep well that night.

Client 3: Divorced after 15 years together. They had a child too. Their synastry and Composite chart is what we call these days "soulmates". First of all, I do believe in soulmate stuff and all but wait. She is a cancer ascendant. He is a capricorn ascendant. Her virgo moon in his 9th house. His Taurus moon in her 11th house. Her 7th lord saturn is in his 9th house of virgo too. Her scorpio mars in 5th house was in his 11th house. Composite chart Stellium in 2nd house and North Node in 5th house. Looking at other placements and aspects on both synastry and composite, it does signaled long-term.

They ended their marriage after 15 years. She told me that he treated her like a doormat. Abusive and toxic too. So many placements and aspects could be considered a soulmate connection in this modern era. Fated or divine connection or whatever you wanna call it. It didn't work. She put up with him for the kid but 3 years before their divorce, he started having an affair with another woman who was also married and had kids like them. Behind her back. She finally ended it.

What I learned from this:

A good synastry chart doesn’t mean you’ll last. A perfect composite doesn’t mean you’ll be happy. At the end of the day, relationships require more than just “good astrology.” They require communication, aligned values, attraction, effort, and, oh yeah—mutual desire to actually be together.

So next time you see a 10/10 synastry and a good composite chart with someone, ask yourself: Do I even like them? Because if the answer is no, your stars can be as aligned as they want—it won’t make a difference.

And if you don’t believe me? Go check your synastry with people you don't like at all. You might be in for a rude (or hilarious) awakening. 😆

Want to know more about your life? DM me for a complete astrology reading and look at my pinned post for pricing.

I felt like I had to write about this today and hope you all like it. Lemme know how you felt too and share your synastry and composite experiences in the comments!

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favefandomimagines · 2 months ago

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My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (f.l)

Summary: Y/N discovers a secret that could cost her and Frank everything

Request: @soflowra hiiii!!! could i request a frank langdon x reader where she finds out about the benzos and kind of confronts him? (thank youuuu!!!)

AN: I took some creative freedom with this one lol

The hum of fluorescent lights was constant in the ER, like the white noise of chaos. Monitors beeped, patients groaned, and somewhere down the hallway, someone was yelling about a broken femur. Dr. Frank Langdon thrived in the noise. It kept his mind racing, his hands moving, and the darkness at bay.

Y/N stood in the doorway of Trauma 2, arms crossed over her chest, watching him work. The moment was so typical of him—snapping orders, trauma gown tied loosely around his body, a half-empty Red Bull undoubtedly nearby. Sarcastic, fast-talking, brilliant. God, he was brilliant.

She was on her way back to OB when he caught her eye and winked.

“Should’ve been a trauma doc, sweetheart,” he called out as he approached her.

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Maybe in my next life.”

They’d been together for a year. It started just after his divorce—messy, public, and the talk of the hospital for months. She wasn’t trying to be anyone’s rebound.

But with Frank, it didn’t feel like that. There was something real underneath all his walls and caffeine highs. Something warm. Vulnerable. Something he’d given only to her.

She loved him.

But lately… something felt off.

It started with charts. She was covering for another doctor in General that week—odd, yes, but she liked to keep her skills sharp. While reviewing a patient’s post-op pain management plan, she noticed the dose of hydromorphone seemed high. Not alarmingly so—just… off. She shrugged it off. Maybe it was an attending’s call.

Then another chart. Then two more. All written up by Frank.

Each time, the dosage ordered was slightly higher than what the patient had been administered.

She brought it up casually while they were at the nurses station after another OB consult he paged her for.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you ever accidentally order the wrong dose on a discharge script?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “What are you talking about?”

“I just saw a few that looked a little high. From you.”

He didn’t blink. “Pain is subjective, right? I go by instinct. Better to have it and not need it.”

She nodded. But her stomach curled, tight and uneasy.

By the end of shift, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Frank was still Frank, still sarcastic and lightning-fast, still showing up to every shift extremely over-caffeinated. But there were cracks.

When she ran out to his car to grab her jacket, she found an empty oxy bottle in his car’s cupholder. Not prescribed to him, no prescription on it at all.

It was nearly midnight when she decided. She stayed late after her shift, combing through the hospital’s prescription logs. She knew the system. She knew the way people tried to hide it. She also knew what to look for.

Her heart cracked as the pieces came together.

He was stealing. Masking it under the chaos of the ER. Signing off on more than what was used. Logging it as administered. And no one else had caught it.

Not yet.

She confronted him later that night in the on-call room.

Frank was sitting on the edge of the cot, sipping from a fresh Red Bull and scrolling through his phone like nothing was wrong. He looked up, grinned. “Hey, baby. Didn’t think you were on tonight.”

“I’m not,” she said quietly, shutting the door behind her.

He frowned at her tone. “Everything okay?”

“I know, Frank.”

His expression didn’t change. “Know what?”

“I know about the pills. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Silence fell. Thick and suffocating.

He stood slowly, the can in his hand shaking just slightly. “I don’t know what you think you know—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed hard. “Y/N…”

“You’ve been altering scripts. Signing off on meds that were never given. I checked the logs. You think no one would notice?”

“I’m not a junkie,” he snapped. “A junkie couldn’t do what I do every day. I run trauma codes, I intubate drunk driving victims with one hand and hold pressure with the other. A junkie couldn’t do that.”

Her chest rose and fell in a slow, controlled breath. “You’re addicted, Frank. That’s what this is. And I don’t care how steady your hands are or how many lives you save—you’re still stealing. You’re still lying. And if Abby finds out…”

That stopped him. The sound of his ex-wife's name leaving the lips of the woman he loved.

“She will fight you for custody,” Y/N continued, her voice cracking. “And she’ll win, Frank. You think the board will let you near narcotics again? You think a court’s going to hand your weekends with the kids to someone diverting benzos from their hospital?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

“This isn’t just about us,” she whispered. “You have kids, Frank. They didn’t ask for any of this.”

He turned away, his shoulders tight, head bowed like the weight of the room was finally crushing him.

“I know,” he murmured. “God, I know.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “You want to tell me you’re not a junkie, fine. But what happens when Abby finds out? When the hospital files a report? What happens when you have to look your kids in the eye and explain why Daddy can’t come around anymore?”

His breath hitched.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she added, softer now. “But this… this will destroy you, Frank. If you don’t stop it now.”

He didn’t say anything.

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” she pleaded. “You lied to me, Frank. For months.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Frank sat down again, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked like he might break.

“After the divorce,” he said finally, voice hollow, “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Everything I lost. And then the ER… it’s never-ending. One shift bleeds into the next. I needed to keep going. Just… keep going.”

She said nothing. Let him talk.

“So I started small. Just to take the edge off. Then I needed more. And I knew how to get it. Then we got together and you deserved more than the mess that I am.”

Y/N’s eyes burned.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m not… asking for forgiveness.”

She sat down beside him, but didn’t touch him. “So what now?”

He looked up at her, eyes red. “I’ll tell Dr. Robby. I’ll get clean. I swear. I just—” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

She reached for his hand.

“Frank,” she said softly. “You need to get clean because you want to. Not for me. Not for this relationship. But for you.”

He nodded slowly, brokenly.

“But I’ll be there,” she said, “every step of the way. If you let me.”

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe not,” she whispered, “but you still have me.”

#imagine #imagines #the pitt imagine #the pitt #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #frank langdon #dr frank langdon #frank langdon imagine

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