#but I don’t know enough about this staff to guess

[askablindperson]

Hi. I just wanted to add a couple points of clarification here:

1. Long white canes are not typically held at chest level, at least not while they’re in use. If you are actively walking with a white cane, standard technique is to hold it so that the top of the handle points at your stomach just below the belly button. If the person is standing still and has pulled their cane up out of the way to stand with them, then yes, their hand might be holding it higher up at chest level Ish, or if they are using it in pencil grip which is used in crowded spaces. But typically, a white cane that’s fully extended is going to be held much closer to waste level.

This does mean however that if this staff has a flower at the top where a handle would normally be, that would pretty significantly impede a person‘s ability to use it as a proper white cane extended in front of them, because there wouldn’t be a very good place to put your hand. I am blind of course, so I cannot look up any kind of reference photos of this character to know if there is an additional segment of the staff extending above the flower that could be used as a handle, but if it is genuinely shaped like a flower with petals on top, I cannot imagine they’re being a handle at the top which would make it pretty darn unlikely to use as a white cane.

2. Before it spreads too far, I did also want to provide one correction that the colors of a white cane in the overwhelming majority of cases do not have any indication on level of vision. There is I believe one South American country that recently recognized green canes to mean low vision, but in most other places, there is no color difference between canes used by the totally blind and those used by blind people with residual vision. This is unfortunately a rather pervasive myth that has been spread by online articles without quoting any sources, as well as a handful of notable blind creators Who are not fact checking their videos, but it is very much not true particularly in North America. Whether your cane is solid white or has a red end is largely just based on which brand you purchased from, as some brands are solid white and some brands have a red end, but it has no meaning. So as a heads up to anyone reading, please don’t make any assumptions on a blind person‘s level of vision based on whether or not their cane includes Red along with the White.

Otherwise, the info provided here is very good food for thought that I agree with. Based on the written description of this staff here, I would probably also find it fairly impractical as a white cane.

I am writing a fanfic about a character known as pure vanilla cookie from a cookie run game who is implied to be visually impaired/blind. And may I ask if it is okay if I write her flower wand as a cane. While the character is still visually impaired, but using the staff as a sort of cane and removing the whole 'fixing disability trope' and i've been wondering if it okay to use the flower staff as cane?

Hello, thank you for your ask!

Note: I myself am not blind but I did talk with another mod about the ask. If any of our blind/visually impaired followers want to chime in feel free! Also I don't know a lot about Cookie Run lore, so sorry if i get something wrong because I'm going off of images of the character.

I think it's great to change a canonically disabled character so they experience their disability rather than getting magically cured, however looking at photos of the staff there are some things about it that would need to change, and some things you should consider.

I think the main issue with using their wand as a cane would be the flower on top. Real world canes are held at chest level for long canes and waist level for shorter guide canes, and I'd imagine having a large, bulky flower on top would make it harder to handle. If the flower were to be able to move out of the way or shrink it might be easier to use.

The staff is also much taller than a white cane. Long canes are typically a bit taller than shoulder level, while Pure Vanilla Cookie's staff seems to reach well over their head. This would make it difficult to use unless it can shrink.

The bottom of the cane looks curved, similar to a bundu basher tip (although actual bundu bashers have angles instead of being completely rounded), which are ment for traveling in unpaved, natural areas. This type of tip would make sense for a character that's in nature a lot, but not for a character that lives in a well paved city. I'd recommend looking up cane tips and what they're used for depending on where Pure Vanilla Cookie lives. Cane tips also get worn after a lot of use, so unless the staff can regrow its tip it's going to need to be able to be taken off and be changed.

Another thing to consider is the cane's color. Most white canes are white with a red bottom (some countries have standardized other colors such as a green bottom or a complete white cane for different levels of blindness), this helps signal to other people that the person is blind. Signaling blindness can be useful in situations such as a driver knowing a blind person is at the crosswalk and they might start walking before the light changes, it lets other people know to be more careful. This is also why identification canes (or id canes) exist, they're canes that don't help with navigation but instead let other people know that while they do have remaining vision they're still blind.

If you wanted to make the staff a cane you'd have to change a lot about it, or give Pure Vanilla Cookie both the staff as well as a white cane (or a guide dog/animal [if they don't have dogs in CR] or a guide).

I'd also recommend looking through our #white canes and #blindness tags, as well as blogs focused on blind characters such as blindbeta! Feel free to ask again if you have any more specific questions about portraying a blind person or tropes.

Have a lovely day!

Mod Rot

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

would it be bad to piggyback off the idea of the jack abbot fic where no one knows about his wife, but kinda flip it a bit and make it seem that the new docs thought reader and robby were married (but their just besties), but it turns out, no its actually jack 👀

Loving your fanfics btw!!

ooooo good one!!!!

Wrong Husband

Summary: You’re used to the new interns making assumptions. You and Dr. Robby have always been close—best friends since residency, the kind of dynamic that makes people look twice. So when this new batch starts whispering about the “work-marriage” between the two of you, neither of you bother to correct it. Until Jack walks in.

“I’m just saying,” Santos muttered as you walked down the hall with Dr. Robby, “they have to be married.”

Javadi snorted. “Right? She calls him ‘grandpa’ when he’s grumpy and he lets her steal his fries during lunch. That’s, like, peak married behavior.”

They didn’t know you could hear them. And Robby definitely did.

He leaned down toward you as you reached the nurses’ station, voice low and dry. “You’re stealing my fries again?”

“Don’t worry,” you muttered, not missing a beat, “I’ll leave you two. Maybe you can finally propose to me after all these years.”

The interns turned white.

You both burst out laughing.

You weren’t married. Never had been. But you loved letting the new staff stew in their awkwardness for a while. It was practically a sport now.

“Wait, are you guys—?” Whitaker started.

You smirked. “Guess you’ll never know.”

A couple hours later, you were sitting at the nurses' station finishing a chart, Robby leaned next to you, sipping bad coffee, when the ER doors opened—and in walked Dr. Jack Abbott.

Buttoned-down. Sharp-jawed. Intimidating as hell.

He didn’t even look up at the crowd—just scanned the room until his eyes landed on you.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You smiled instantly. Stood up, grabbing your coat. “Yep. Give me two seconds.”

Whitaker blinked. “Wait, you… know Dr. Abbott?”

Robby raised his coffee, still leaning casually. “She knows him alright.”

Jack walked over, slipped his hand around your waist like it was second nature—because it was.

The room went silent.

You looked up at him. “Long day?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Better now.”

Javadai dropped her pen.

You turned back to the stunned interns with a sweet smile. “You three met Jack, right?”

They just stared.

“Jack,” you added helpfully, “my husband.”

Robby actually choked on his coffee.

“Have fun, kids,” he grinned. “Told you she wasn’t mine. I’m not nearly uptight enough.”

Jack looked him up and down. “You’re not anything enough.”

You tugged his hand gently. “Be nice. They thought I was married to Robby.”

Jack didn’t even blink. “I’ll try not to be insulted.”

As you walked out with Jack’s hand resting possessively on your lower back, the interns stood frozen in place, eyes wide, jaws open.

“…So that’s her husband?”

Robby chuckled behind them. “Yeah. You should see them when they’re arguing about takeout. It’s terrifying.”

[mercvry-glow]

Best of wives

parings. frank langdon x robinavitch!reader

summary. frank langdon loves his wife dearly, but family is hard when hard when her older brother is your boss.

warnings. typical pitt stuff, hospital setting, frank and reader are roughly mid to early 30s, reader is robby's younger sister (not specified on blood or adoptive, with an age -gap of 15 or so years), reader is pregnant, eating, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. little bit of family light drama for the masses, and I'm love love loving all of the stuff we're talking about on here! I absolutely love this concept, and would 100% take more ideas like it for sister/daughter!reader. I hope you enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated in any form!

wc. 1400+

Frank Langdon was the golden boy of modern medicine.

At least that’s what he had tried to convince you when you first started dating.

You were a kindergarten teacher at the time, so nothing as flashy as a trauma resident at PTMC, but just as important. You just didn’t want that life—not after seeing what it had done to your brother, and certainly not after meeting Frank.

He was magnetic in that way doctors sometimes were—confident, razor-sharp, and just the right amount of reckless. The kind of man who could charm a crowded room and then disappear into an on-call room for eighteen hours if needed without blinking. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t date a doctor. You told yourself you weren’t interested in that. 

You told yourself a lot of things.

But Frank had a way of making you feel like the center of the world, his world. 

And that was dangerous.

You tried to set boundaries. “Work stays at work,” you told him once. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me. It’s what I’m here for,”

He had just laughed, flashing a smile, “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on keeping secrets.”

You wish you hadn’t smiled back.

Because five years later, here you were. Five months pregnant and walking into the emergency room with food in hand for all your favorite people—and your older brother too, who still acted like you were ten years old.

You navigated the Pitt like you owned the place, a regular of this particular establishment, bag of takeout swaying in one hand and the other resting on the gentle curve of your stomach. You weren’t showing too much yet, but just enough to get a few raised brows from the nursing staff. 

You offered a knowing smile in return.

At the desk, Dana smirked when she spotted you. “Look what the cafeteria couldn’t cook up,” the blonde teased.

“I brought fries,” you said with a smile. “So you better be nice or I’ll tell the baby.”

Dana laughed and plucked a soda from the bag like it had her name on it. “See? And they said teachers don’t want their own kids pfft.”

Frank was near the trauma board, mid-conversation with someone, but his attention shifted the second he saw you. His whole expression changed—softer, brighter, like he forgot he was running on three hours of sleep.

Jack had noticed too, of course. He gave you that signature Dr. Abbot once-over, arms crossed, brows raised in disapproval even though he was already moving to take the bag from you.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around here,” he said gruffly.

You smiled, entirely unbothered. “I’m not wandering, I’m delivering. I brought you all lunch.”

And just as you handed him his sandwich, a familiar voice joined the mix.

“Let me guess… she promised she’d just drop it off and go home, right?”

You turned to find Mikey, approaching with a shake of his head and a warm, if slightly exasperated, smile.

“I did,” you said, holding your hand up in mock surrender. “Scout’s honor.”

Robby looked you over with practiced eyes, always the doctor even when he was in big-brother mode. “You look good,” he said, stepping in to kiss the side of your head. “But next time, let one of these guys bring the food. You don’t have to run around for everyone on a Saturday.”

“I wanted to,” you said softly. “I like seeing you all. And the baby wanted fries.”

Robby a light chuckle. “Can’t argue with the baby, I guess.” He gave your arm a light pat, then turned to Frank. “You’re making sure she’s taking breaks, right?”

“Absolutely,” Frank replied, slinging an arm around you. He always wanted Robby to know he was taking care of you. Not only did you mean the world to him, but you were his mentor’s little sister. (Not that he knew when he met you.)

Jack, having stayed close, muttered, “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger.”

“Jealous?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Terrified,” he deadpanned.

The three of them exchanged looks—your husband, your brother, and the grump who’d somehow also become family.

Before anyone could argue about who was more wrapped around whose finger, the overhead speaker crackled to life.

“Team to trauma-one. ETA two minutes. MVC, multiple victims.”

The shift in the room was immediate. The laid-back laughter evaporated into focus, movements sharpening with purpose. Dana tossed the soda into the trash like she’d never opened it. Jack was already pivoting, snatching a pair of gloves from the supply drawer, and Robby stood up straighter beside you, brotherly instinct kicking in.

Frank was the only one who paused, even for just a second. His hand lingered at your lower back, thumb tracing a circle through the fabric of your top.

You looked up at him and gave him a soft nudge. “Go.”

He hesitated. “You sure?”

“I’ll hang with Robby. Maybe even get him to eat something green.”

That earned you a quick grin—tired, but genuine as always. He leaned down and kissed your temple, then, because he never could help himself, his hand rested gently on your stomach. “Be good for mom, alright?” he murmured, before looking up at you again. “Text me if anything feels off.”

“I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you reminded him, smiling as you gently swatted his arm.

“Yeah, well. Humor me,” he said, backing away even as Jack called his name. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the chaos with the rest of the team. Jack, tough as ever, barked something to an incoming resident and tossed Frank a gown mid-stride. It landed squarely in his chest, and he caught it without looking. 

Routine. Precision. Showtime.

You turned back to the nurses station, watching it all unfold with that strange mix of pride and nerves that always bubbled in your chest when Frank was in the thick of it. You’d learned long ago that this was part of the deal—his heart belonged to you, but his hands, his mind (on occasion), and his adrenaline? 

They belonged to this place.

Robby stayed back a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Protective older brother mode was a hard one for him to turn off.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, eyes flicking down to your bump, then back to your face.

You nodded. “I’m fine. Just hungry. And I’m not leaving until someone eats this food I risked my ankles to bring in.”

He chuckled. “You’re still stubborn.”

“Runs in the family,” you said sweetly, sliding the bag toward him.

With a sigh, Robby sat beside you and pulled out one of the sandwiches. “You know,” he said, unwrapping it slowly, “when you first told me you were seeing someone, I never imagined it would be Frank.”

“Why?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I thought you had more sense,” he deadpanned, then smirked when you kicked his foot lightly under the desk.

You both sat quietly for a beat, watching the monitors light up as the trauma alert clock ticked down. Through the windows, you caught glimpses of Frank and Jack suited up, already fielding a barrage of vitals and questions as the paramedics wheeled someone in.

Robby followed your gaze. “He’s good. One of the best I’ve seen at this stage.”

“I know,” you said softly. “That’s why I fell for him.”

He glanced sideways at you. “You think it’s ever gonna get easier? Having another person on the inside of all this?”

You rested a hand over your belly. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But I think loving someone like Frank… like you… it’s worth the hard parts. He always comes back to me anyway.”

Robby nodded slowly. “He better keep doing that.”

Just then, the intercom squawked again—someone calling for extra hands in trauma-one. You and Robby exchanged a look before he stood with a resigned sigh, abandoning his half-eaten sandwich.

“Go,” you told him. “I’ll guard the fries with my life.”

“You better,” he said, ruffling your hair as he passed.

You stayed there, perched at the edge of the chaos, watching the people you loved disappear into the fray one by one. And in the middle of it all, you could hear Frank’s voice—calm, confident, commanding. He didn’t raise it often, but when he did, people listened. 

Just like Mikey.

You listened too, always had. Because no matter how far into the fire they ran, they always looked for you when on the back.

And you'd always be waiting, with food in hand and that steady calm only you seemed able to carry into a place like this.

mercvry-glow 2025

[odoraful]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

wanderer would prefer not to be stopped on his way home, especially when he's had a hard few days

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; 'kuni' nickname; pure fluff; just wanderer lowkey being a pathetic lover boy for you; 1.9k words

a/n: nothing else to say here besides i had a lot of fun writing this !! pls enjoy clingy wanderer !!

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“Hat Guy! Do yo-”

“Nope.”

Wanderer deadpanned, not even sparing a look at the scholar who addressed him as he walked past. It was at this point where most people would give up. Students of the Akademiya found that you had to catch the snarky scholar on a good day to strike up a casual conversation with him outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, this person was tenacious enough to not even let such an outright rejection faze him. Wanderer walked faster, only for his peer to match his stride.

“Hold on!” They cried out, slightly breathless from having to speed up. “You’re really not going to let me finish what I’m saying first?”

Wanderer scoffed. “What gave you that impression? My visible irritation? Or the fact that I’m actively trying to outpace you?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so rude…” They frowned, voice trailing off in disappointment.

Finally giving the person a side-eyed glance, he recognised them to be a fellow Vahumana scholar named Mir. Whilst Wanderer could acknowledge Mir’s intelligence, he was far too soft-hearted for how stubborn he was. At that deflated comment, Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks. Mir wobbled, skidding on his feet to stop as well.

He considered using his flying abilities to leave Mir in the dust. However, this plan was only a fleeting thought as he recalled a stern meeting he had with staff at the Akademiya. They scolded that he wasn’t allowed to use his powers to avoid interaction with his peers. Something about misconduct and lacking etiquette that Wanderer half-remembered, choosing to nod along rather than actually listen to the prattle from the professors.

“Mir.”

He perked up. Wanderer could see his self-esteem reassemble at the mere fact that his name was remembered.

“What do you want?” Wanderer seethed, each word punctuated through gritted teeth.

If Mir felt intimidated at all by Wanderer’s ire, it showed little on his face. He only brightened further, seizing his chance to speak.

“I wanted to see whether you wanted to go to a social event later tonight at Lambad’s! There’ll be free drinks and food, and it’s really just a friendly get together to boost morale. It’s meant to be for us Vahumana scholars to catch each other up on the work we’re doing, and on what’s been going on in our lives,” he rambled.

What could simply be said in a few words Mir incredibly managed to do in multiple sentences. Wanderer let out a loud sigh.

“Mir,” he began, folding his arms. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’ve just returned from a long and arduous trip from the desert where you’ve used all your energy up to explore ruins. Would you want to spend what little time off you have for the day going to a crowded tavern with people you only barely know?”

Mir stuttered. It was the most Wanderer had spoken to him in one go.

“W-well, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what kind of-”

“Just answer it.”

Wanderer interrupted, dismissing Mir’s frivolous technicalities with a wave of his hand.

“Alright! Probably not! I’d just want to go home and relax.”

“And there it is,” Wanderer opened his arms wide, like a magician revealing their latest trick, “my response to your invitation.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and walked off. Mir opened his mouth to protest, but none came out. He stood there slack-jawed at his own words being used against him. Fortunately, he didn’t follow any longer.

Wanderer would probably short circuit if he bumped into anyone else right now. What he had told Mir was the truth. He was on his way home from the Akademiya just after returning from a 2 day trip in the desert. He would have enjoyed the expedition far more if his professor hadn’t dragged him out on such short notice. Most likely, she had seen that his schedule wasn’t as busy for the next few days and roped him into a project of ‘great academic importance’. Time that would have been spent doing whatever he wanted to at home had been replaced by sweltering weathers and endless scribing of ancient tomes.

Fate was a truly cruel force. Especially so when it separated him from you without warning. At the thought of his partner, he recalled how he announced his departure. He had to leave that same day, and you had already left for work, so he scrawled a note and left it on the table for you to look at when you returned.

My professor has taken me on an research expedition last minute. I’ll be back in 2 days time. I’ll make it up to you.

Kuni.

Perhaps he would come back to see the same annoyance he had when dealing with Mir on your face at such a lukewarm message.

There was an inexplicable weight in his body when he walked. A dragging emotion that humans would probably label as tiredness. He needed to get home and fast. If he did arrive to a grumpy partner, he wouldn’t mind it. You were the only person who was actually worth dealing with in his eyes.

He looked around. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, and there were only a few people mingling around the street he was on. Perfect. It was empty enough for him to not cause a spectacle. Wind kicked up around him as he swiftly launched upwards, flying high above roofs. This would certainly cut his commute time in half. Quietly, he navigated the familiar streets towards home.

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Dots of yellow emerged below from hanging lamps across the city. The residents of Sumeru were preparing for the night, whether in revelry or idleness. The latter suited you more, as you began to unwind from a day of work and waited for Wanderer to arrive. The news that he needed to leave had surprised and saddened you a little. You were looking forward to spending more time with him over these few days when he wasn’t so busy with classes. If he kept to the words he wrote on that note, however, he would somehow make it up to you.

You held onto that hope as you folded clothes to be put away in the bedroom. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice movement outside as Wanderer approached the window on the second storey. Putting his face closer to the stained glass, your figure was rendered in an orange hue as he peered in. He tapped against the window with a finger.

You jumped with a yelp, turning towards the source of the disruption.

Honestly, you would have welcomed his arrival more warmly if the sight before you wasn’t so unexpected. Now, you couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. Your boyfriend was hovering outside your bedroom window, staring at you like a rain-soaked cat waiting to be let inside.

You hurried towards the window, but didn’t reach out to open it just yet. Instead, you placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head to the side.

“We have a front door for a reason, you know.”

Even though your voice was muffled, he heard how you spoke in a sing-song manner.

“Well, I’m not at the front door now, am I?” He replied, matter-of-factly. “Mind opening up?”

Gesturing for him to step away a little, you unlatched the window and swung the glass outwards. Cool air immediately washed over your face, tickling your skin. He could hear the mild offense in your voice crystal clear now,

“I cannot believe this is how I’m being greeted after such a sudden departure-“

Your sentence cut off short as the wind got knocked out you.

Your boyfriend crashing into you mid-flight was a quick way to shut you up.

The force caused you to stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the bed. Only then did the surprise settle in at what he was doing.

Wanderer had you in a tight hug.

Somewhat awkwardly, he was half-sitting in your lap, half-sitting on the bed. Shaking out of your stupor, you encircled your arms around his shoulders. Wanderer let his body fall limp, his feet now on solid ground. He buried his face in your neck.

“A-are you-”

“Don’t say a single word.” He said, voice low in warning. Though, the threat had little weight behind it with how he nuzzled into the hug.

Wanderer didn’t need to breathe to survive, but he had learned to inhale and exhale largely so that others wouldn’t gawk at him for his lack of breathing (he had honestly stopped doing it because of how bothersome it was to keep such a façade. However, after some convincing from Nahida about the necessity to get along with his peers, he begrudgingly adopted the habit once again). For you, it served another purpose. Clearly something or someone had riled him up earlier because his breathing had initially been huffed and short. Now, as he settled against your body, you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, breaths slow and intentional.

“It’s only been 2 days, Kuni,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle.

His violet hair tickled your skin as he shifted his head, propping his chin up on your shoulder. Perhaps it was intentional that he kept his face out of your line of sight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you haven’t seen me in months?”

Wanderer scoffed loudly. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see his face, for the way he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in embarrassment at his own clinginess would’ve given you weeks of material to poke fun at him for.

“I think you do because I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re acting like this.”

There was no way he was falling for the fake, sugary innocence in your tone. You were an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. He chose to remain silent as you continued,

“Oh well, I guess I should go and finish folding these clothes if it’s nothing important.”

Abruptly, you removed your arms from him and went to stand. However, the grasp Wanderer had around your waist meant you could barely even move. Even bending over proved to be fruitless for you.

“Those chores can wait,” he muttered, interlocking his fingers together to hold you in place.

Despite knowing that you were messing with him, a small part of him was irritated that you even considered putting such a menial task above him.

You giggled at how touchy he was being. Your boyfriend could hardly come up with a word of affection without looking like he was going to combust, but would stop at nothing at the chance to hold you. You raised a hand to pat his head, smoothing his hair down. Every grievance he had over the past 2 days melted away with each pass of your hand. Archons, he even started to feel like he went a bit too harsh on Mir.

“Don’t worry,” Wanderer could hear the smile on your face as you began gently combing his hair between your fingertips. “I missed you too.”

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[clockwayswrites]

Die Screaming, Live Laughing

Danny/Tim, Cyan, Wind through tree branches/Windchimes @wisteriavines @darkstarsapocalypse (I saw you before you changed that! Twins!)

cw:bar parent fentons, more temporary character death, bones

The faint, mechanical whir under his fingertips as he spins the camera lens comforts Tim. The fiddling is familiar from the years of following Bats and crime across the city. The rooftops of Gotham are an environment that he’s far more familiar with than here. Here is nothing but endless trees and leaves.

Well, somewhere here is also the campgrounds and Bernard, Ives, Steph, and Cass; but that’s far out of sight and almost out of mind. It’s easy, as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees, to feel like nothing exists but the trees and Tim and his camera.

He spins the lens again.

Ostensibly, the four of them are in these woods to find Mothman. Which would be cool! But even Tim, who proposed this whole thing, knows that it’s just an excuse for the four of them to do something away from Gotham. To do something to make actual use of their summer between high school and college.

If Tim went to college, that is.

He’d been accepted, sure, but he… he just didn’t know if he wanted to. It felt like there were more important things to be doing than college. College was sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about a subject that Tim could crash course himself on with the right library access in a month. It also meant new people and new noises and maybe even a new home. None of that sounds great, really. Moving in with Bruce to Wayne Manor had been enough change, thank you very much.

Tim’s foot catches on something and he does a half step to keep his balance. He expects to see a tree root when he glances down. It’s bone instead. That’s not… unexpected. They had already seen deer in the woods, the creatures got stupidly close to the campsite. It would make sense that with the big rains the few weeks before, there could have been old remains uncovered. But there’s something…

The dirt brushes away easily from the surface of the bone and, with a little digging, Tim is able to pull it free of the earth.

This isn’t a deer bone.

Tim knows this shape.

This is human. A femur.

“You have to be careful where you’re walking out here.”

Tim stands and spins, the femur held like his staff would be.

The speaker is leaning against a tree several feet away. The golden, setting sun backlights them, making them look almost angelic with how they’re wreathed in light. They’re hard to look at.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tim says, plastering on a nervous smile that was only half for show. How did they sneak up on him? That should have been impossible with the leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor. “Do you run into animal skeletons a lot out here?”

“Not really,” they say with a shrug before they start forward towards Tim. Their steps are silent. “I don’t really get around. And also, that’s not an animal skeleton.”

“No?” Tim’s grip on the femur tightens. “How do you know that?”

“How? Well, that’s because it’s mine!”

Tim swings.

The femur goes right through the stranger.

“Sorry! Little intense, I get it!” They back up a step and raise their arms. The dappled sunlight shines right through their hand. Shines right through them like the stranger is just made out of gossamer. “I get it, but be careful with that, please? It’s my arm! Or leg? No, leg.”

“Leg, it’s a femur,” Tim says, his mouth running without him as his brain works.

“Leg. Ancients, I miss having legs. And arms… and, well, anything solid really,” the stranger sighs. “I am sorry for scaring you. Just… it’s hard not to get a little intense when someone is holding one of my bones, you know?”

“Oh shit! That’s right, sorry,” Tim stammers as he hurries to put the femur back down on the disturbed earth. “Do you— I mean, should I rebury it? Did the rains washing away the earth, um, wake you up?”

“Kinda?” They tilt their head as they crouch down next to Tim.

It’s clear now, as they move a bit out of the light, how transparent they are. It’s like in the shadow they lose tangency. Their hair is still just as blinding, being bright white in a way that’s really beautiful. They reach out to touch the femur but stop short.

“I’m tied to my bones. It’s why they dumped them all the way out here. After they killed me, I mean, all the way killed me, I haunted the fuck out of them. And yeah, sure, they could hurt this form of me too, but I always found a way out and then it all started again. Burying my bones was the only way to get rid of me, and those fuckers didn’t even scratch me a headstone in the tree or anything. Some parents, huh?”

“Holy— yeah,” Tim says. Looking back down at the other partially exposed bones he has to swallow back a wave of sadness. “Is that a yes to covering them up?”

“Actually… I’d like you to dig them up. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get justice or whatever, but I’d… I’d like to be somewhere proper and under my name.”

“What is it? Your name?”

“Danny.”

“Okay, Danny,” Tim gives a little nod and starts digging. “My friends and I will get you somewhere you feel safe. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Danny doesn’t help dig. He can’t, he explains as Tim and him talk. While his bones are buried, he’s not able to interact with them or else he would have gotten them out of there a long time ago. They learn together that as soon as the bones are free and set gently aside that Danny can touch them.

Tim never thought he’d see someone so emotional over a tibia, but Tim can’t blame the guy. Tim figures he’d be emotional over his own bones too.

The big bones are the easiest. The ribs Tim is extra careful with. The fingers are weirdly like peanut shells in his hand. (He’s not going to eat pb&j for weeks now.) Danny chats the whole time, asking Tim about the world. Tim feels wholly inadequate to catch someone up like that, but when conversation turns to technology Tim settles into a rhythm.

It also lets them figure out that while Danny died just shy of nineteen, he’s apparently spent almost two decades in the ground. He still looks just shy of nineteen. He looks like he should be in the forest for the same reason that Tim is, celebrating the end of one era and the start of the next. Danny should be looking to the future, not mourning it.

It makes Tim pause when he finally unearths Danny’s skull. What would it have been like to see Danny smile? To hear him laugh without that faint echoing quality that he has as a ghost? To touch him?

“I’m sorry,” Tim says and holds out the skull. Danny’s skull.

“Thank you,” Danny whispers. His hands tremble as he reaches out towards the skull. He crumples forward before he can touch it, a sob tearing through him.

“I’ll make sure you’re somewhere nice.

“Thank you.” Danny lets out a breath he doesn’t have and sags forward the last inch. His forehead bumps against the skull.

Then he keeps going forward.

The world explodes into light.

-

“Tim?!”

“Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“You can see him breathing, Bernard.”

“Pulse.”

“Tim!”

Tim gasps awake and blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His friends and sister stand clustered above him. It has gotten dark and their flashlights are blinding.

“You okay?” Cass asks.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Steph sighs. “Hey Tim, who the fuck is that?”

“Wha—” Fuck his head hurts. Who the fuck is who?

Oh, the person laying in his arms. The person who’s solid and warm and alive.

Tim starts laughing.

“Okay, maybe a little not okay,” Steph amends.

“Is he ever?” Tim hears Ives mutter.

“Guys,” Tim interrupts them discussing his status once he can breathe again. “This? This is Danny.”

“Being alive again hurts,” Danny mumbles against Tim’s neck and Tim can’t help it, he just starts laughing again.

Being alive does hurt, but fuck if that isn’t wonderful sometimes.

---

AN: So this one got away from me a little but, uh... tada? I was planing to have it all explained more, but once Danny didn't purposefully do it, that didn't fit. Basically all if his frankly absurd powers and as a ghost got jump started by his skull and Tim's lifeforce and tada? 100% pulled some from Tim's Gotham Knights character where he's an awkward little bean who is so not neurotpyical. Him and Bernard taking a vacation to hunt Mothman is from that too.

Anyways, stay delightful, darlings!

[srjlvr]

꒦꒷ enhypen ! oopsies…! fans actually caught your relationship….

in which you and your partner are really awful at keeping your relationship as a secret. || Idol-ot7!Enhypen X Idol-fem!reader … full fluff!! … no warnings!! … not proofread<3 || note. this one is very similar to the shipping scenarios, but not quite the same.

ε ї з — heeseung ; having temporary matching tattoos.

you and heeseung felt a bit childish in your last hangout at your dorm. you told him you ordered those little temporary tattoos that kids do these days and joked about doing it. one thing led to another and both of you ended up with a weird heart shape right on the back of your hand.

“i think it looks cute” you looked at it and smiled.

heeseung chuckled and kissed your cheek, “but you’re cuter”

“if i could i would get a permanent tattoo with you”

“our fans will probably notice it if we do”

you forgot the next day that both of you have a performance to do.

no one noticed it, it was as if it never happened, your staff members and manager didn’t even notice, your own group members were too oblivious to it as well.

it was only after your performance that a hashtag with both of your names became popular on every platform that ever existed. fans going crazy and posting pictures of your performance with the tattoo circled, then compared to heeseung’s picture with the tattoo as well.

not only that, you actually uploaded a photo where it was clearly seen and not even a bit hidden. your company thought they were fast enough to delete it, but fans are much quicker these days.

it was very much needless to say that you found yourself in your CEO’s office the next day.

ε ї з — jay ; performing and showing everyone your matching bracelets.

jay had recently bought the both of you matching bracelets. he knows you love bracelets and he’d do anything to make you happy.

your bracelet had a few charms he picked that perfectly completed his own charms, if you ask any other person, they’d tell you it’s the perfect matching symbol.

being too excited about the bracelet idea, you forgot to take it off before your comeback performance.

at first fans thought it was just a beautiful bracelet your stylists gave you.

that was until you decided to show it again on live, and jay decided going on live and showing his matching one five minutes after your live ended.

“is that a new bracelet? yes actually, isn’t it so pretty?” you answered your fans’ questions and showed it off.

“show us your bracelet?” jay read one comment and immediately showed it on screen, “i love this bracelet a lot, i don’t think i’ll ever take it down” he chuckled.

not even a minute passed and the whole comment section began asking about his bracelet again and why it looks so similar to yours. jay’s eyes widened and quickly came up with an excuse to end the live.

“please tell me you took it off before going on live” he told you over the phone.

“i did not, why?” you asked innocently.

“i guess i’ll see you tomorrow at the CEO’s office, i love you” he chuckled.

“oh,” you started laughing, “it’s about time we reveal it actually”

ε ї з — jake ; mindlessly hanging out in public.

life had been so stressful lately for both you and jake. him being on tour and you being too busy with your upcoming comeback just added up to the stress you’ve been already having.

you barely found time to hang out or even have video calls. the time difference was sometimes too much for you and you found yourself going days over days without texting properly.

“i miss you so much” he said in one of your very rare video calls.

“i missed you so much more” you replied quietly.

you’ve been on a call for more than four hours, either of you wanted to hang up, you don’t know when will be the next time you’ll be able to talk like that.

as soon as he came back to korea, he texted you, asking to meet up and hang out at the very late night hours.

you being so drunk in love, missed your partner and had to hold him again in your arms, you agreed instantly and made your way to the dorm as fast as the light.

after reuniting he suggested both of you will get out and get some fresh air, the inside was suffocating both of you.

you decided to have a walk in the nearest park and even go to that one arcade he told you he’d take you to when he has the chance. you ended the night with some ramen you bought from the closest seven eleven store.

this idea of publicly hanging out without your managers or even group members knowing was a mindless idea, but you missed each other too much to care.

fans went crazy the day after when dispatch revealed pictures of the both of you hanging out, and just then you realized you fucked up.

ε ї з — sunghoon ; posting the same location photos.

you and sunghoon recently went on a vacation in a very quiet yet beautiful place. no one could recognize you no matter where you went. it was the perfect place for the both of you.

sunghoon brought his cameras, and you as well brought yours. of course, the perfect couple would also have some shared interests.

“the view is so beautiful” you took in the beautiful view you were looking at, and raised your camera to take a picture of the beautiful place.

“you’re way prettier than the view” sunghoon back-hugged you with one hand and raised a camera with the other to take a picture of the view as well.

you chuckled at his remark and shook your head, “you’re the prettiest view i’ve ever seen”

a few days later and your vacation sadly ended. on your way you asked sunghoon for suggestions, he told you which ones he thinks were the prettiest and you happily agreed.

the next day you uploaded the pictures you were discussing on with sunghoon, and got lots of compliments for your little hobby.

it didn’t take that long for sunghoon to also upload a post. you being a supportive girlfriend opened your fake account to give him a like and look at the post your pretty boyfriend uploaded.

your smile quickly faded when you noticed his pictures were oddly similar to yours. you entered the comment section and fans were already discussing on whether this is all a coincidence or not.

you decided to leave the post on, and hope for the best, knowing that you and sunghoon are probably going to get an angry lecture.

ε ї з — sunoo ; uploading the wrong tiktok.

you and sunoo filmed the new comeback’s challenge after constant beggings that it would be only the two of you.

the staff members were so supportive of your relationship and hyped you up a lot.

“let’s do one for fun and a serious one” he told you and you nodded.

“wait what do you mean one for fun?” you asked.

“one that i’d keep for me only to watch” he cutely smiled and hugged you.

you wondered what he was up to but cooperated and did your best for this tiktok, on the few freestyle seconds, he kissed your cheek and winked at the camera while you were left blushing.

“that was the one for fun?” you asked and he nodded, “we can’t show that to fans, they’ll know we’re a couple the second they see it”

you filmed another one with a cute pose at the end and agreed it’d be the best one to upload. you thanked everyone as you were called back to your dressing room, you kissed goodbye your boyfriend and signaled him to text you.

a few hours passed and you noticed enhypen uploaded a new tiktok. you tapped the screen to give it a like even before watching it until the end.

you focused on your dance moves and the way your chemistry with your boyfriend was displayed over the screen, but your mouth dropped to the floor when you noticed the last seconds of the tiktok.

it was the wrong one. and it was too late to delete because fans were already reposting it and going crazy over it.

ε ї з — jungwon ; forgetting to hide your framed photobooth pictures.

due to their upcoming reality show participation, enhypen members were required to clean their rooms from any suspicious things that fans might see.

the reality show showed enhypen members’ own room and dorm in general. so the rooms had to be very cleaned and organized.

jungwon took in the request very seriously and cleaned every part and any corner of his room, or so he thought.

your framed pictures stood there right next to his bed stand, he can’t go sleep without it being right next to his head and he forgot to hide it somewhere else.

he only figured about it when they showed him his own room in the show, he tried to hide it and tried to stay unbothered as much as he can so fans won’t notice anything suspicious.

too bad fans have 6/6 vision and they’re actually specialists at finding stuff like these.

as soon as the show was aired, fans tried to find out who’s the mysterious girl in the framed picture who’s seen kissing his cheek and smiling widely with him.

luckily, the picture was very much blurred so it was hard for fans to see, it was an easy pass for the company to say that these pictures just so happened to be pictures with his sister.

the company’s plans were ruined when you decided to post a vlog in your room and there sat the same framed picture behind you. it was very far and really hard to notice, but as we all know your fans are crazy.

“you forgot to hide it too?” you giggled over the phone as he laughed as well.

“i love this picture too much i guess”

“i don’t regret not hiding it”

“me neither”

ε ї з — riki ; posting a selca with his sunglasses.

everyone knows about riki’s obsession with sunglasses. he’s like the sunglasses king.

you yourself even bought him a few sunglasses that he tends to wear very often. fans don’t notice it since they always assume it’s always him who buys them.

however, there’s one particular sunglasses that riki has been known for. it’s one of the rarest sunglasses and riki decided to draw some random things on the sides of it and showed it to his fans.

he was so proud of himself, showing his pure talent on his favorite sunglasses, it’s actually one of the sunglasses you bought him as well, but no one has to know that.

you asked for his sunglasses one day, you felt cute and your outfit matched perfectly with his sunglasses.

you also asked him to take a few photos of you with his sunglasses. he smiled through the whole process.

“wait let’s do it like that” you said as you bent down and held the sunglasses that were sitting right on the end of your nose.

“you look so cute” he complimented, “focus on taking the pictures instead of simping!” you ordered and he laughed.

“you can keep them to yourself! it looks better on you”

“i’d never do that to my very lovely boyfriend! ….but if you insist then i will”

one of the first mistakes you made was not noticing a glass window was right behind you, and so the reflection of riki was much seen behind you.

you uploaded the pictures, feeling so cute and excited about the outfit with your boyfriend’s sunglasses.

your second mistake was forgetting that those sunglasses were only unique to riki since he designed and drew on it on his own.

it didn’t take that long for fans to notice his sunglasses and his reflection behind you.

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

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[eclipixels]

Worry

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Content: Sae is secretly in a relationship with you, a sports physical therapist.

Warnings: A little spicy towards the end

[3,469 words]

      The stadium buzzed with energy as thousands of fans cheered, their voices merging into an electrifying symphony of anticipation. On the field, Sae Itoshi stood with his usual stoic expression, eyes sharp and calculating. He adjusted his legband before exchanging a look with his teammates. Even in the sea of faces, he knew exactly where you were—standing on the sidelines in your designated position as a sports physical therapist, clad in the team's official attire.

      You weren’t just any therapist. You were his—not just in a professional sense, but in a way no one else knew.

      It started months ago. Sae had sustained a minor injury during a match, nothing career-threatening, but enough to require regular therapy sessions. You were assigned to him, and in those quiet moments of stretching, icing, and rehabilitation, something unspoken had started to bloom between you. The world saw Sae as cold and distant, but you saw the flickers of warmth he hid so well.

      No one knew about your relationship. Not his teammates, not the press, not even the coaching staff. It was better that way. The media would tear you apart, question your professionalism, and scrutinize Sae’s performance with unnecessary speculation. He had too much at stake, and you had worked too hard to let your career be overshadowed by rumors.

      So, you stayed in the shadows, watching, waiting, and supporting him in silence.

      —

      "It's nothing. I'll be fine." Sae muttered, reluctant to accept your help. He attempted to stand, but the sharp pain in his ankle betrayed him. A barely audible wince slipped past his lips before he sat back down, jaw clenched in frustration.

      You said nothing, simply raising a brow. He avoided your gaze, clearly embarrassed.

      "Just let me do my job," you sighed, kneeling beside him.

      Despite the clinical nature of your touch, the moment felt strangely intimate. His scent lingered in the space between you. He was close enough that you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

      "It's not that bad—" You began to explain, but were cut off by him.

      "Yeah, I know,"

      You shot him a glare, unimpressed by his cocky attitude, before returning to your work. "You'll need to rest for a few days to heal. It’s just a twisted ankle, but get it checked with an X-ray, just to be safe."

      Sae didn’t argue, but his silence held a weight you couldn’t quite place.

      The next day, you were caught off guard when he showed up again.

      "They said I need to see you for a few days until I recover," he explained casually, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

      You nodded, trying not to overthink the way he was looking at you—like he didn’t entirely hate the idea.

      Day after day, he returned. The sessions had become routine. Sae would come in, let you do your work without much fuss, and leave with nothing more than a small nod of acknowledgment. He wasn’t the type to make small talk, and you didn’t push. But somewhere between the careful way you wrapped his ankle and the quiet moments where he let you work in silence, something unspoken settled between you.

      Today was no different. You were in the middle of guiding his leg into a stretch, your fingers pressing firmly against his calf as you worked to ease the tension. Sae sat on the treatment table, one hand propped behind him, the other resting lazily on his knee. His body was completely relaxed, yet you knew he was aware of every movement you made.

      "You're awfully quiet today," he commented, his tone casual.

      "I could say the same about you," you replied without looking up.

      "Mm." He made a noncommittal noise, shifting slightly under your touch. "Guess I don’t have much to complain about today. You're not torturing me for once."

      You rolled your eyes but bit back a smile. "If I wanted to torture you, you'd know it."

      His lips twitched—just barely. "I believe that."

      You adjusted your grip, your fingertips brushing the bare skin of his ankle as you shifted the wrap into place. It was fleeting, barely anything, but the temperature in the room felt warmer. Sae didn’t react, but you knew he noticed. He noticed everything.

      "You’re still favoring your other leg," you pointed out, pressing into the muscle just above his ankle. "You're overcompensating."

      "I’m fine," he replied smoothly. "You worry too much."

      "It’s literally my job to worry about your injuries, Sae."

      "Hm." His gaze flickered down to you, as if considering something. Then, after a beat, he added, "You do that a lot, you know."

      You raised a brow. "Do what?"

      "Worry about me."

      You hesitated. It was such a simple observation, and yet the weight of it hung between you. Because he wasn’t wrong. You did worry about him—more than you should. More than what was considered professional.

      You looked back down, tightening the wrap around his ankle to distract yourself. "Well, maybe if you didn’t act like you were invincible, I wouldn’t have to."

      Sae exhaled a quiet laugh through his nose. "I am invincible."

      You scoffed. "Says the guy who limped into my office a few days ago."

      He allowed a small smile, leaning back on his palms. "Maybe I just like the attention."

      Your hands stilled for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to keep working. The words were tossed out so carelessly, like they meant nothing. But the way he watched you, the way his gaze never wavered, told you otherwise.

      "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head.

      "You like it."

      Your breath hitched. It was such a simple statement, spoken with that same unaffected tone he always had, but there was something there, something teasing, something almost knowing. Did he know how you felt about him?

      You could deny it. You should deny it. Instead, you tied off the wrap and ignored the way your hands felt warmer than usual.

      "There," you said, clearing your throat. "You're good to go."

      Sae didn’t move right away. He stayed seated, watching you in that unreadable way of his. Then, finally, he swung his leg over the edge of the table, testing his weight as he stood.

      "Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then," he said lazily, stretching his arms above his head.

      You blinked. "Tomorrow? I thought you told me today would be your last day."

      "Hm." He tilted his head slightly. "Guess you misheard."

      You stared at him, searching for any indication that he was lying. But he remained as unreadable as ever, his expression betraying nothing.

      "I think you’re lying," you sighed, shaking your head.

      "Maybe." He turned, making his way toward the door. Then, just as he reached it, he glanced over his shoulder and—just barely—smirked. "But you don’t seem to mind."

      And with that, he was gone.

      You sat there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he had just been. Your heartbeat was annoyingly loud in your ears.

      —

      You were done for the day, ready to pack up and go home when the doors to your office were opened unexpectedly. Sae Itoshi stood in the doorway, his usual unreadable expression in place. He wasn’t limping, wasn’t clutching any sore muscles—he looked perfectly fine. Too fine. So damn fine.

      He paused for a fraction of a second before offering the most unconvincing excuse you’d ever heard. "I’m hurt."

      You crossed your arms, unconvinced. "Oh? Where?"

      He hesitated, just barely, before pressing a hand to his abdomen. "Here."

      You stared at him, unimpressed. "That’s your excuse? A tummy ache?"

      "It’s real," he said, completely unfazed by your skepticism.

      "Uh-huh. And why didn’t you just go to an actual doctor?"

      Sae met your gaze, and with a calm, deliberate tone, he said, "Because you’re more qualified to help me than anyone else."

      Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to stay composed. Rolling your eyes, you stepped behind him, placing your hands on where he claimed to be feeling pain. His muscles were firm beneath your touch, his body warm even through his shirt.

      "You’re not even tense," you muttered.

      He let out a quiet hum, tilting his head slightly. "Feels nice, though."

      Your heart skipped a beat.You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop wasting your time, but instead, you stayed there, hands still resting on his abs.

      Oh my god, you were touching his abs.

      "You didn’t come here for treatment, did you?" you asked softly.

      Sae exhaled through his nose, a hint of amusement in his voice. "No."

      You swallowed. "Then why?"

      Finally, he turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye. "Isn’t it obvious?"

      It was obvious. It had been for a while now with the lingering glances, the unnecessary teasing, the way he always seemed to find a reason to come back to you, even when he didn’t need to.

      Your heart pounded as his gaze flickered down to your lips. He wasn’t cocky now, wasn’t teasing. Just waiting.

      And before you could overthink it, you leaned in.

      The moment your lips met, Sae responded immediately, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you there like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him.

      When you finally pulled away, breathless, he didn’t move far. His forehead nearly touched yours, and the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk.

      "So," he murmured, his voice lower now. "Do I need to fake another injury tomorrow, or will you just let me come back?"

      You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He chuckled, pressing a quick, final kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling in for another kiss.

      That was how your relationship began.

      —

      The match ended in victory, and the team erupted in cheers, but you stayed back, allowing them to celebrate. Your role was never in the spotlight, always in the background, ensuring everyone was taken care of.

      Sae was the last to leave the field, his usual composed self as he made his way toward the tunnel. You followed at a distance, knowing he’d be heading to the medical room for post-match treatment.

      When you entered, he was already on the treatment table, undoing his cleats.

      "You were reckless," you said, locking the doors before setting your bag down.

      He smirked slightly. "You worry too much."

      You shot him a look before gently lifting his foot onto your lap, beginning to work on his ankle. "Someone has to, since you clearly don’t."

      His smirk faded as he watched you, his expression unreadable. You didn’t say anything, focusing instead on your task. But you felt the heat of his gaze, the way his fingers lightly brushed against your wrist as if grounding himself in your presence.

      "This isn't easy," he said after a moment, eyes softly following up your body.

      You looked up. "What isn't?"

      "Keeping this secret." His voice was quieter now, more raw. "Not being able to acknowledge you outside of this room."

      Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their careful work. "You know why we have to."

      "I know." He exhaled. "Doesn't mean I like it."

      You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. You had accepted this arrangement because it was necessary. Because it was the only way to have him without risking everything. But moments like these, when his barriers were down and his honesty slipped through, made it harder to pretend it didn’t hurt.

      "Sae," you started, but he interrupted.

      "Just… stay a little longer."

      It was rare for him to ask for anything, even rarer for him to show even a sliver of need.

      So you stayed.

      "Need you," Sae murmured against your skin, his breath warm as it ghosted over your neck. His voice was low, almost a sigh, as if admitting it took more out of him than any match ever could.

      Before you could even process his words, his hands gripped your waist, strong and sure, pulling you flush against him. He moved with an effortless grace, lifting you onto the treatment table as if you weighed nothing. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass before sliding lower, grasping at you possessively, as if he was terrified of letting you go.

      His lips crashed into yours, hot and desperate, his usual composed exterior completely shattered. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, only the raw, unfiltered need pouring out of him with every kiss. He melted into you like butter, pressing his body closer, deepening the kiss like he was trying to imprint himself onto you.

      Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly, and the soft groan he let out sent a shiver down your spine. His hands roamed, gripping, kneading, keeping your hips firmly anchored against his lap. The heat between you was unbearable, electric, like the air before a storm.

      But it still wasn’t enough.

      Sae pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, filled with something primal. Then, without warning, he flipped you over onto the table, pressing his body against yours, his weight grounding you. His breath was ragged, lips hovering just above your ear.

      "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, voice laced with frustration, as if even he couldn’t understand how much he wanted you. His fingers traced up your spine before gripping your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

      Sae’s hands were quick, urgent, as he pulled you closer. The tension between you was overwhelming. He didn’t waste any time. Every movement was a testament to just how much he needed you. He quickly and messly pulled down his shorts and boxers before burying his desire inside of you.

      You could feel his breath hot against your skin as he pressed against you, the space between you shrinking with every second. His lips found your neck again, soft at first, but then deeper, as if kissing you could somehow ease the growing hunger in him. His hands were everywhere, rough but tender, anchoring you to him.

      “I need you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. He didn’t care about time, or place. He needed to feel you close. Not in the car, not in the apartment, not in the bedroom, no. Now. You pulled him in tighter, responding to his need in his every move. He let his moans muffle themself into the crevice of your neck.

      —

      “I got another job offer.” You spoke quietly, your words hanging in the air between you and Sae. The weight of the confession pressed against the comfortable silence that had filled the room, and you waited for his reaction. His gaze shifted to your hand, where his fingers still traced soft circles across your skin. You could tell he knew you weren’t lying, his silence told you everything.

      “Oh,” was all he said at first, his voice softer than usual. He didn’t look up, still continuing his gentle touch. But you could tell that the news had caught him off guard. His fingers paused for a moment before starting again, but his focus shifted away, avoiding your gaze.

      “If I took it…” you hesitated, gathering your thoughts before continuing. But as the words escaped your lips, you caught a flicker of something on his face, something like offense, or maybe frustration.

      The thought of leaving this place, leaving the life you’d built together in secret, seemed to hurt him more than you expected. You tried to push forward, but his reaction stung.

      “That would mean I’d see you less,” you continued, your voice quiet, careful not to push him too far. You could feel the tension in the air, thickening with every word. “But it would also mean we could be together without hiding.”

      Sae didn’t respond right away. His thumb continued to trace circles on the back of your hand, but there was a slight tension in his fingers now. He was thinking, processing.

      “If I stayed here, with Re Al, I’d get to see you far more than if I went to the other team,” you said quietly, your voice tinged with hesitation. “But we’d still have to keep everything secret. We’d have to hide it all, just like we are now. Nothing would change in that way.”

      He met your eyes then, and the expression on his face was unreadable. But his words, when they came, seemed almost detached. “How’s the pay?”

      The shift in his focus caught you off guard, but you answered quickly, trying not to let the undercurrent of tension show in your voice.

      “About the same.”

      “Hm,” he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly.

      The room felt suddenly quiet, heavy with unsaid words. Sae’s gaze returned to the floor, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. He was conflicted, caught between his feelings for you and the reality of the situation. The reality that no matter which choice you made, it would hurt in some way.

      You took a deep breath, trying to ease the knot of uncertainty in your chest. “I haven’t made a choice yet,” you said softly, as if the words might somehow bring clarity.

      Sae remained quiet for a long moment. His hand finally stilled, resting gently on yours. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, even without him voicing them.

      If you took the job, you’d be with a different team. You’d be on the road, traveling constantly, and Sae would be doing the same. Seeing each other would become a rare occasion. But at least you wouldn’t have to hide that you were together.

      But then, there was the other choice. If you stayed here, with Re Al, you’d be close to him, able to see him more often, but it would still mean living in secrecy. Every meeting, every touch in public, would have to be hidden, kept in the shadows. There would be no public acknowledgment, no way to share your love with the world. No able to go on dates in public or walk down the street holding hands. It’s exhausting having to look over your shoulder to make sure paparazzi weren’t watching you.

      “I’m just worried people might find out about us, and it could hurt your career,” you admitted, the weight of your concern pressing on your chest. “I don’t want to ruin that for you.”

      Sae scoffed, his expression shifting from one of concern to mild disbelief. “Ruin?” he echoed, his voice tinged with shock. “Y/n, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You could never ruin anything.”

      The words hung in the air between you, his confession striking a chord deep inside.

      You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first. Best thing? The phrase echoed in your mind, and for a moment, you felt lost in it.

      “Oh,” was all you managed to say, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

      Sae sighed and reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Stop that,” he said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “It’s my career, so it's mine to worry about.”

      There was something undeniably genuine in his tone, a confidence in what he was saying. You could see how much he meant it. He wasn’t worried about his career. He wasn’t worried about the risks, the secrets, or the sacrifices. He just wanted to be with you, and that was all that mattered to him.

      He looked at you, his expression crestfallen. The love was there, clear as day, but there was something else there too—a quiet sadness. He knew, just as you did, that this was more than just a decision about a job. This was about your future, about whether or not you could both have the life you wanted, together.

      “I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a punch to your gut. That was worries him.

      The silence between you two stretched on, filled with the weight of your unspoken worries. As you sat there, his hand still resting gently over yours, you realized that no matter what, you couldn’t picture your life without him in it. You leaned over, pressing a kiss of reassurance to his lips before cupping his face in your hands.

      You exhaled, feeling your chest tighten. You made your decision right then and there. “You won't.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ex Step “Kids” x Reader

Where the man you're dating and soon to marry have their reservations about you. Considering you're closer to their age and their father has millions in his name...

Thinking about the Step-family in question being adults; well established and acting on their own from their aging father

Unknowingly letting him fall prey to you 

Walking Temptation with a hunger for deep pockets and a smile innocent enough to make anyone swoon

It’s a shock when the next time they see their dad for the holidays he’s got you on his arm

Just a little bit older than them (half his age) and with a giant engagement ring on your finger

“You like it? Your dad got it for me when we were in Dubai!” 

“Uh Dad can I have a word? Alone?”

Taniya, his eldest is the hardest to grill you

Being incredibly open with her suspicions about you

And she’s the most vigilant when it comes to reprimanding her father for spoiling you

“Dad think about it (Y/n) doesn’t need another sports car! You’ve already gotten them two!”

In no uncertain terms, you’re sure Taniya hates your guts

If the way all the restaurants your future husband has worked with for some reason can’t serve you has anything to say about it, that’s likely the case

But you don’t mind!

That way you can take your man to the best place to get croquettes

Yeah it’s sketchy but that’s what his bodyguards are for

The second worst is his youngest, Titan

Classic attention-hungry influencer son who thinks pranks on you are going viral because everyone enjoys your misery as much as he does

“Your misery” is the curious tilt of your head when you find the leather seats of your range rover decorated with glitter 

Doesn’t really bother you though, so you’ll show off your new interior to all your new followers on socials 

Wonder where they came from

Finally the middle son Tariq always forgotten but not quite estranged doesn’t seem to dislike you too much

After all, he did start coming around the villa more since you’ve moved in

“Oh hey (Y/n) I heard those flowers my dad got you went missing, it just so happens to work out that I brought you some.”

“Those are my favorites! How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Anyway, I heard you got the latest VR tech, want to show me how it works?”

For a while you fall into a cycle with your fiance and his family

Eventually tying the knot in a luxurious venue in front of hundreds of masked billionaires

Of course, all your older husband’s kids decide to be civil

And all is well…until it isn’t

All too soon are the siblings gathered again when their father dies two weeks later

It’s all so sudden

With heavy hearts, their knowledge of his decline makes it better for the siblings to take on the funeral preparations

Begrudgingly Taniya takes it upon herself to try getting the funds from you, coming to the Villa prepared to argue

Instead, she’s met with one of her father’s most loyal bodyguards

Woefully opening the door

“(Y/n) has been too distraught to leave their bed since the…last hospital visit.”

“What?”

She would have expected someone like you to have been jumping for joy

Having tied the knot with a man who’d pay for any tuition you might’ve needed paid Taniya doubts it she expected you’d be as bubbly as others in your…profession

But instead of partying you were glued to the giant California bed clutching an old shirt of his

For once Taniya feels bad for you

“Uh hey (Y/n) I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to the first meeting with the mortuary staff. We’re looking to pick a coffin and–”

Instead of something snarky or even an agreement, you throw a black card in her direction and pull the covers over your head

Barely smothering the crying sounds

“You know what? Maybe it might be best if I stay back here..with you.”

It’s all too easy for her to lend her shoulder as you wail about your late husband–her father

Its awkward for awhile and then it’s not

She weirdly looks forward to pulling your tear-stricken face into her chest she wore the v-neck for a reason while you discuss the funeral arrangements

Purposely making her meetings online so she can rub your back off screen

Finding that the lingering security guard–your unofficial butler is getting more and more on her nerves

Taniya doesn’t even realize she’s gotten this bad until she’s hoping the chandelier will fall on her brothers when they eventually show up

“Wow. You two are here. In-person…why didn’t you call?”

“I don’t need your permission to see (Y/n)! But you know I would’ve come sooner if my company wasn’t dealing with a major crisis by some mysterious corporate giant!”

“Don’t look at me, I told you working for a shady company would get you no where.”

“I cannot with you right now–”

“I also came-!”

“Shut up Titan.” “Please Titan we’re talking.”

Titan isn’t all that worried about his old man being dead except his allowance stopped

And technically he shouldn’t be staying in the Villa anymore…but his followers are asking questions

“And in here we have the–whoa crying widow alert!”

“W-what?!”

He gets a lot of hate for that one

And while his siblings circle around you like vultures he’s finding it hard to insincerely apologize so that you can do a follow-up apology video with him

He’s following you around so much and observing all your little quirks 

he worries it might be important when ‘apologizing’ so maybe he should record it…

Thus begins his long and greatly popular series of getting to know my dead dad’s spouse

He records as much as he can–what you eat, how you talk, how you whisper promises to the pictures of his dad you put up

It weirdly makes him question everything

It also has him posting to a new platform…a more hidden one

“Alright, guys! I actually got into their closet without issue we’ve just got to hope they won’t need to come in here anymore. OMG They’re back! I wonder what they’ll do…next. Uhm…sorry chat but I’m going to shut off the camera for awhile….I think this is just for me.”

Unlike Taniya who will hesitate, thinking of her father while cuddling up to you Titan does not think

Because after his copious amounts of stalking streaming with you

He's decided you will be his inheritance from dad

Clearly the old man wasn’t strong enough to handle you

So Titan would be the hero to sweep such a camera worthy beauty off their feet

Tariq doesn’t hesitate either 

he’s gotten over that the day he met you

Sure he misses his dad a lot less than he expected+ but he does miss the privacy he used to have with you

“Hey (Y/n) do you want to go out for a ride like we used to do.”

“Oh Tariq I’d love to but I already told Titan we’d do a muckbang with him.”

“And after that, we’re going to film our feet ASMR!”

“Titan I said I’d need to think about that–”

“What?! You already said no to the hot-tub stream, how much more of a Karen can you be?!”

“Okay okay, but I’d rather it not be live.”

“Duh, I may not ever want to post it.”

Tariq is so tired of everyone else realizing just how much you’re not like any gold-digger he’s ever known

In fact, you’re so bad at it that he doubts you were ever a gold digger in the first place

“Hey Tariq the lawyer had a question about the life insurance money, should I just write you a check or do I keep it? I’m so confused.”

“Wow uh, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but your dad always told me what to do with this kind of stuff. So what do I do?”

“Uhh, how about we open our own bank account and put it there!”

“Oooh like a married couple’s bank account?”

“Yeah just like marriage. It’s a little too early to ask right?”

Nonetheless, all three siblings are beginning to realize just how ‘bad’ of a gold digger you are

And they’re more than eager to show you the right way…as long as you change your allegiance to them.

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

[cece693]

He's Cute

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: you're Loki's brother, but actually nice and come in peace, bucky finds you adorable, humor, asking out a prince from another planet is hard, just ask bucky, part 2 can be done

Tony tapped his fingers on the conference table, wearing his best ‘well, here we go again’ scowl. In front of him, the Avengers were assembled, all shooting wary glances at Thor. “So,” Tony drawled, making sure to emphasize his skepticism, “we’re hosting another Asgardian prince. Is your father just collecting them at this point?”

Thor, doing his best not to look offended, cleared his throat. “I know you hold distrust after what Loki did, but (Y/N) is our younger brother. He’s quite the opposite from Loki.”

Clint quirked a brow, exchanging a glance with Sam. “‘Opposite’ how? Less shape-shifting and more interpretive dance, or…?”

Sam snorted. “I’d pay to see that, actually.”

Thor, for his part, stood straight-backed, looking earnest—and maybe just a little bit offended. “I assure you, (Y/N) is not here to conquer anything,” he reiterated. “My brother is gentle. He's nothing like our brother Loki."

Tony drummed his fingers on the table one more time. “Yeah, we’ll see. Might I suggest we have a ‘No Asgardian Shenanigans’ sign at the front door? We can hang it right under the ‘No Solicitors’ sign.”

“That might be a tad welcoming, don’t you think?” Clint drawled, lips curling in a wry grin.

Sam chuckled. “No illusions allowed, no staff-wielding illusions, no illusions about illusions.”

Bucky glanced around. They were all bantering, but he could sense the undercurrent of nervous energy. Finally, Steve caught his eye and nodded, inviting him to speak up if he wanted. But Bucky just gave a small shrug—he didn’t really have an opinion yet, beyond thinking that maybe it would be nice to have another level-headed god around. He’d heard Loki was a piece of work, but Thor—despite his bombast—had proven a decent ally.

“Well, guess we’ll know soon enough,” Nat said, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. She tapped her phone, checking the time. “Thor? When’s your supposed to show up?”

Thor’s chest swelled with pride, as though merely announcing your name was akin to proclaiming victory over the Nine Realms. “He will arrive today—shortly, in fact. Heimdall has secured him safe passage. I ask for your patience, my friends. He is not…accustomed to Earth.”

“Oh, this ought to be fun,” Tony said, pushing back from the table. “Alright. Everyone, let’s roll out the welcome mat. And by ‘welcome mat,’ I obviously mean ‘a healthy dose of skepticism laced with potential backup plans A through Z.’ Clint, let’s find a vantage point—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted, sounding exasperated. “He’s Thor’s brother, not a Hydra spy.”

Tony shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Or have we collectively forgotten the Chitauri fiasco?”

Thor let out a deep, put-upon sigh, and Bucky caught the flicker of guilt in the god’s eyes. Clearly, Thor was sensitive about all that had happened with Loki. Which in turn made Bucky feel a little guilty for automatically being wary.

About an hour later, the Avengers had dispersed, though most lingered in the main atrium of the Compound. Bucky hung back near a wall, arms folded, scanning his surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. He had no idea what to expect. A second Loki? Another six-foot-something, muscle-bound, hammer-wielding Asgardian?

The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, a swirl of rainbow light appeared at the center of the room—a mini Bifrost. Out of it stepped you.

Your entrance was about as dramatic as one could expect from a swirling cosmic rainbow, but you looked anything but menacing. Clad in simple Asgardian attire (far less extravagant than Thor’s usual gear), you blinked, adjusting to the Earthly surroundings and then you bowed—actually bowed—deeply and respectfully.

“Good day,” you greeted softly, your voice gentler than any of them expected. “I am (Y/N) of Asgard. It's an honor to meet the team that has accepted my brother Thor with open arms. I know you might be wary of me with all that has transpired with Loki, but know that I deeply apologize for any problems he...” You paused, searching for a polite way to phrase it, eventually settling with, “…might have caused.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “‘Might have caused?’ Yeah, that’s one way to put an alien invasion.” He exchanged a look with Clint, who shrugged.

“(Y/N) is different,” Thor explained, laying a large hand on your shoulder with a brotherly sort of pride. “He will not attempt subterfuge or illusions.”

Bucky, observing quietly from his corner, noticed how you half-cringed at the mention of illusions, as if even the word brought you guilt by association. You glanced around at the assembled heroes: Tony with his pointed skepticism, Nat’s arms folded in careful assessment, Steve’s polite-but-guarded kindness. Even Sam gave you a sidelong look that said he wasn’t entirely sure he believed in second Asgardian princes yet. Only Thor, unwavering in his faith, and Bruce, gently curious, seemed at ease.

Clearing your throat, you continued, “I truly want to learn of your customs and help in any way I can.” Your voice quieted further. “I understand if my presence here makes you uncomfortable. You have already faced so much.”

Natasha eyed you, the corners of her mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. “Well, you’re certainly more polite than your brothers,” she said, glancing at Thor pointedly.

“That’s not difficult,” Clint muttered, earning a huff from Thor.

Bucky only half-listened to the exchange; he was more focused on the shy curve of your posture—how you carried yourself with a subtle humility that was so unlike Thor’s boisterous confidence or Loki’s cunning. He realized then he was staring, so he forced himself to look away, crossing his arms over his chest to maintain some semblance of aloofness.

Steve, ever the one to break awkward silences, stepped forward to shake your hand. “We appreciate your honesty, (Y/N). I’m Steve Rogers. I promise no one here means you harm,” he said in a reassuring tone.

You took his hand carefully, as if unaccustomed to the formality. “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face as you felt the firmness of his handshake. “Your grip could rival Thor’s,” you murmured, almost impressed. Thor puffed up, beaming that you’d complimented one of his comrades.

Sam spoke up next, his voice colored with curiosity. “So, no illusions, no plans of world domination…I’m guessing you’re the ‘normal’ one in the family?”

You seemed flustered, but your lips quirked in an embarrassed smile. “I—I wouldn’t quite say that. But I have always strived for peace.”

Tony waved a hand. “Alright, Peace Prince, welcome aboard. We’ll see how it goes. Just don’t conjure up any giant space whales or open any more cosmic portals in the middle of Manhattan, deal?”

Thor looked positively mortified that Tony would even imply such a thing, but you only nodded politely. “Yes, sir. No space whales. I can assure you of that.”

At the “sir,” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I like you. Please continue to address me as ‘sir’ in front of the others.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

Thor cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to calmer waters. “(Y/N) will be staying with us for a time—learning Earth’s ways. Please, treat him as you would me.”

“So we haze him with endless pop culture references and toss him in the deep end?” Sam joked.

Bucky saw you swallow hard, and something about your shy, uncertain expression tugged at his chest. Without meaning to, he spoke up for the first time in the meeting. “I’ll help,” he said bluntly.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise etched on their faces—especially Steve, who arched an eyebrow as if to say, Didn’t know you were volunteering, pal. You brightened, relief shining in your eyes. “That is very kind of you. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Just…Bucky,” he mumbled, cheeks warming the tiniest bit.

Natasha’s keen eyes flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Great,” she said lightly. “Now that we’re all introduced, who wants lunch?”

Over the next few days, you integrated yourself into Avengers life with unexpected ease. You asked Tony endless questions about Earth technology, took great care to help Bruce reorganize his lab (after you discovered you had a knack for meticulously alphabetizing everything from chemicals to coffee mugs), and politely sparred with Natasha, who grudgingly admitted you were surprisingly tough yet considerate.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly observed you. He watched you cheerfully fix up the lounge furniture after Thor accidentally broke a coffee table. He saw you carefully water the potted plants in the hallway, eager to ensure none of Earth’s “fragile vegetation” withered on your watch. Little by little, Bucky found himself drawn to your presence—drawn to your soft laughter, your bright curiosity.

But one thing stood out above all else: you never once bragged about your title. You never boasted about your Asgardian heritage or demanded special treatment. You even seemed embarrassed whenever anyone called you ‘Prince (Y/N).’ Instead, you were humble—sometimes painfully so. And that humility, combined with that sweet, open-minded wonder, made Bucky’s heart do somersaults he hadn’t felt in years.

Bucky sat in the compound’s lounge one afternoon, pretending to read a newspaper while sneaking glances your way. You were studying a half-eaten bag of potato chips like they were the eighth wonder of the world.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, beckoning his friend closer.

Steve, doing his best to hide an amused smile, leaned in. “What’s up?”

Bucky tilted the newspaper so Steve could see you turning the potato-chip bag upside down, letting crumbs tumble out onto your hand. “He’s cute,” Bucky muttered under his breath, so quietly it nearly dissolved into air.

“…Should I act surprised? It was obvious from the moment you volunteered to show him around the tower,” Steve finished, his voice just as low. He flicked his gaze from Bucky to you and back again, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the hint of pink that dusted his cheeks. “I’m trying to be subtle, all right?”

Steve snorted. “That’s rich coming from the guy who’s sneaking glances every ten seconds.”

Bucky’s gaze drifted again to you—now tapping the bottom of the potato chip bag in an effort to extract the last crumb. The entire display was so earnestly adorable that Bucky had to bite back a smile. “Look,” Bucky sighed, voice dropping lower, “he’s Thor’s brother. A prince. And I’m—well—” He gestured vaguely at himself, as if that summed up a lifetime’s worth of complications. “You really think he’d be interested?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I do.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest—he’s just curious about Earth, he’s friendly to everyone, it doesn’t mean anything—but then, as if on cue, you turned around in your seat. The instant your eyes met Bucky’s, your face lit with delight. You waved at him so earnestly that you almost spilled the bag of chips.

Bucky swallowed. “Fine,” he muttered, giving Steve a pointed look. “Maybe there’s a small chance.”

Steve suppressed a laugh, nudging Bucky forward. “Then go talk to him. Ask about chips, or Earth cuisine, or literally anything. Just say something.”

Bucky tried to summon that stoic confidence that sometimes worked for him. Instead, he felt like a high school kid with a crush. “Right,” he mumbled. “Be casual. Real casual.”

He stood up, discreetly adjusting his jacket, and made his way over to you. You greeted him with a bright smile—still holding that bag of chips as if you’d discovered gold. “Hello, Bucky!” you said. “I didn’t realize such simple food could taste so addictive.”

Bucky felt his heart do a little flip at the sound of his name on your lips. “Yeah, uh…chips,” he replied brilliantly, jamming his hand in his pocket in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant. “They’re a big deal around here. We’ve got, uh…like, 70 flavors, I think.”

Your eyes widened. “Seventy?!”

“Maybe more,” Bucky corrected himself. He cleared his throat. “So, you like them?”

“Very much. I fear I might become dependent,” you admitted, glancing a little sheepishly at the half-empty bag. “But enough about me—how’s your day? I noticed you’ve been reading that newspaper for a while.”

Bucky cringed internally. Busted. “Oh, yeah—lots of…uh…interesting articles,” he fibbed, holding up the folded paper. He glanced at the front page, realized it was yesterday’s news, and hastily lowered it again. “Anyway, I was thinking, maybe we could…you know, get out for a while? Go, uh…check out a café nearby.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion creeping across your features. “But the Compound has a coffee machine. It’s in the kitchen, right? I can fetch you coffee, if you like.”

“No, no,” Bucky corrected, trying to keep his composure. “I mean, we could go out. Just you and me. Kind of an…outing.” He struggled with the word date, but it hovered there, unsaid.

Your eyes went wide, as though another revelation had dawned upon you. “Oh! You need supplies? Are we on a mission?”

“No, not a mission,” Bucky explained, scratching the back of his neck. “Just hanging out. Relaxing. Maybe having a nice conversation—away from everyone else.”

You nodded, albeit slowly. “A private conversation…in a place that also serves coffee?”

“Right,” Bucky confirmed, trying not to seem too relieved. “It’s…well, on Earth, we call that a ‘date.’”

He finally said it—date. His palms were sweaty, but he held your gaze, waiting.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, brows shooting up. “I’ve read about dates in one of the Midgardian relationship guidebooks. Something about courting rituals and paying for each other’s drinks to demonstrate affection?”

Bucky’s cheeks felt warmer by the second. “Yeah, that’s…that’s the general idea. You interested?”

“Yes!” you said, then paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your features. “But do we need to bring my father into this? Thor mentioned father-gifts or is that just for official betrothals? I don’t want to be rude.”

Off to the side, half-hidden in the hallway, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle a laugh. Bucky shot him a quick glare—thanks for the backup, pal. Chuckling nervously, Bucky shook his head. “No father-gifts required. On Earth, it’s usually just between, well…the two people going on the date.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed. “Ah, excellent. That simplifies things. I wouldn’t know what to buy your father anyway—does he prefer golden chalices or—?”

“No, no,” Bucky interjected quickly, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing. “Seriously, no father involvement. We just go, maybe sit down, order coffee, talk.”

You seemed to take a moment to let that sink in. Then, you grinned wide. “That sounds delightful. When do we depart for this coffee date?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Around ten?” Bucky offered.

You placed a hand over your heart, nodding firmly. “Ten in the morning. I will be ready. Should I wear armor, or is that too formal?”

Bucky glanced at Steve again, who was now silently cracking up. He smothered a grin, turning back to you. “Casual clothes are fine. Maybe just…I dunno…a shirt and jeans, if you have them?”

“Ah, yes! The mortal garb. I’ll do my best not to clash patterns.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Though everything on Earth seems to clash with my Asgardian boots.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, feeling tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding in slip away. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Moments later, you excused yourself to research casual Earth attire, leaving Bucky standing in the lounge with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. That’s when Steve sauntered in, arms folded, his smile practically ear-to-ear. “You see?” Steve teased. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite hide his grin. “I almost had to explain father-gifts, so maybe a little complicated.”

Steve chuckled. “Looked like you handled it just fine. And if you need a quick escape route tomorrow, you know I’ve got your back.”

Bucky gave him a playful shove. “Thanks, punk.”

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “Anytime, jerk.”

[lowkeyerror]

Congrats on Your Divorce

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: Requested, fluff & smut, librarian!reader, divorced!Wanda, smut, fingering, thigh-riding, cunnilingus

Summary: You befriend Wanda, a regular at the library you work at, after learning about her divorce. The friendship becomes something more one day when you come over to help her with her sick kids. As your relationship progresses you even talk about buying a home together, which leads to a physical manifestation of how much you love each other.

An: It took me awhile because I got a little carried away. I hope I did your request justice 🙇‍♀️.

Masterlist

You enjoyed the mundane lifestyle that came with working at the library. There was a comfort that came with knowing that you worked in something of a community center. Being able to provide a service that for some was the highlight of their day. In this day and age having regulars at the library was a rarity, especially the adults. Kids would come after school for homework or for research purposes, but the adults were few and far between.

Technically it may have been weird that you had a favorite but you couldn’t help yourself. There was a woman named Wanda, she’d come once a week ask for a recommendation and sit there the whole day and read it.

She’d always make a comment or two on the book on her way out and it made you smile. It was good to know she appreciated your picks. Though there were other staff members she only really asked you.

When she missed one week, you found yourself discouraged. One week turned to two and so forth until it had been a month since you saw the woman.

“Y/n, it looks like your regular is back. She might need a little assistance,” one of your coworkers approaches you.

“What are you talking about?”

They give you a look that says ‘seriously’, “Ms. Recommendations, she’s in the non-fiction section looking a little worse for wear.”

You nod and make your way over to the section. There you find Wanda. Your coworker was not exaggerating. She looked so fragile as if she was just waiting for the tears to fall. She was staring at the books, but it was easy to tell that she wasn’t really reading anything.

“Looking for anything in particular,” you say softly, trying not to startle her.

She seems to snap out of her trance enough to try and answer you, “No, not today.”

It felt like she was speaking on autopilot. If it were another guest, you would’ve let her be, but this was Wanda. Perhaps it was a bit para-social but it felt like you knew her better than the average customer.

“I- I don’t mean to overstep, but are you alright?”

She lets out a tired sigh, “That obvious?”

You attempt to back track, “No… uh it’s just I haven’t seen you around in a while."

She looks away for a moment, “ Yeah, I um got a divorce. So I’ve been a hermit as of late.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

Wanda can’t help but laugh at your words, “Most people have been saying they’re sorry to hear, but congratulations? It’s kind of refreshing.”

You shrug, “Well I don’t think divorce is always a bad thing. It’s hard for sure, but it’s better than staying in a situation you don't deserve.”

“What if I was in the wrong?’ Her eyes are glued to the floor as she speaks.

“I may be overstepping again, but I doubt that's the case. You don't seem like the kind of person,” your tone doesn't make her argue, instead a look of relief crosses her face.

“I'm not,” she says taking a deep breath.

You smile at her, “Then it’s their loss.”

She smiles back at you, “I guess you’re right.”

Glad to have made her feel even a little bit better, you begin to leave the aisle she's in. You dint get far before there’s a gentle tug on your wrist. You turn back to stare into Wanda’s warm green eyes.

She’s nervous as she speaks, “I don’t know if I’m too old to be doing this, but fuck it. I could really use a friend right now and I was wondering if you’d be open to getting coffee or something, whenever you’re free.”

You stare at her for a few seconds before nodding, “I’m off in about 15 minutes, there’s a café a few blocks over that I think everyone should try at least once.”

Her excitement builds up in her features. She clears her throat to hide it, “I’ll wait for you by the YA novels?”

“Sounds perfect.”

From that day on Wanda wasn’t just a regular customer anymore, she was your genuine friend. She was also one of the sweetest people you had ever met in your life. She was unbelievably strong too.

The details of her divorce were quite messy. A touch of infidelity here and there, mixed with a custody agreement was a recipe for disaster.

You always offered to be there in any way you can’t for. She usually turns down your more serious offers for help, and sticks to fun small outings. You can tell that she’s somewhat embarrassed by her situation, but you don’t think there’s anything she should be embarrassed about.

“Y/n, I know I said I was free to go out today, but Tommy is sick and Billy isn’t doing that great either, can I give you a rain check?”

She called you and you could hear the tiredness and distress in her voice, “Let me come over and help you, Wands. Two sick kids is rough work, I know you could use a hand.”

She’s silent on the line, but the coughs and sinus filled conversation doesn’t stop.

Wanda sighs, “Okay, do you think you can bring me some medicine? I’ll text you some ingredients I need for soup too if that’s alright?”

“Whatever you need, I’ll see you in a bit,” you say simply.

You follow through on your word picking up various cough, cold, and fever medicines along with some cough drops. You nearly forget about the stuff for the soup, until Wanda texts you something she left off the ingredient list. After picking up everything you head to her house.

You’d been to her house before, but never when her kids were there. You had seen them with her a few times at the library, but back then you didn’t quite deduce that they were her children. It feels so obvious now, but Wanda was definitely a young mom in your opinion, or at least she looked like one.

You rang the doorbell and waited with the groceries in your hand. It took a moment but eventually the door swung open revealing Wanda. Though your hands were full, she’s the one who had bags under her eyes. She looked as though she would fall over any second.

“You’re a godsend Y/n,” she tries to take the bags from your hands but you don’t let her.

“And you’re sick too, here I figured this would happen,” you rummage through the bags and pull out a medicine that’s for adults.

“It’s drowsy.”

You nod, “I know, I figured you need the rest anyway, let me handle its.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Are you crazy? You think you can handle my two kids and me on your own?”

You smile at her, “You underestimate me, Maximoff. Let me show you what I can do.”

“We’ll see, but first come meet them properly.”

You sit the bags down in the kitchen, opting to take the medicine upstairs with you. She takes you to their room.

Tommy is propped up in his bed watching as Billy plays videogames from his spot on the floor.

“Tommy, Billy, this is my friend Y/n. She’s going to help us out today,” Wanda introduces you.

“The library lady,” Billy sounds congested as he speaks.

You nod your head enthusiastically, “ Yep, that’s me. I heard you boys were sick, so I brought some stuff to make you feel better.”

Tommy gags, “Ew medicine.”

You sympathize with him, “Ew is right, but it’s worth it I promise. In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal, you guys take your medicine, and I’ll make you the best soup of your life in return.”

“Better than mom’s?” Billy questions.

“ 1 million times better,” you egg him on.

Tommy is more hesitant, “I don’t know.”

You get closer to him, crouching so you can meet his level, “How about when you’re feeling better, we go out to the arcade and get some ice cream too.”

That seems to be enough for the boy, “That sounds awesome.”

While you’re chatting with them Wanda starts to prepare the medicine cups for the boys. They take the medicine with all the dramatics that children do.

“Ok, we’ll be back to check on you guys, shortly. Billy, get some socks baby. Tommy stay under the covers sweetheart."

The both of you exit the room and head back down the stairs. Wanda moves to start unloading the groceries, but you stop her.

“If you’re not going to fully rest, at least sit. I can make the soup,” you point to the barstools she has in her kitchen.

“Are you sure? I can help-"

You block her from opening the next bag. She looks into your gaze, which holds no feeling of malice or resentment. Instead she finds a warn and tender look behind your eyes.

“I’ve got it.”

She listens to your directions and takes a seat

She watches as you prep the ingredients, ever so often asking where she keeps certain things. Otherwise there is a fluid motion to your movements in the kitchen.

“You know you don't have to take them to the arcade just because they took the medicine, right?”

You pause slightly from chopping vegetables to look up at her, “I probably should’ve asked if it was okay with you first, but I don’t mind taking them. They seem like good kids, which isn’t a surprise at all considering they’re your kids.”

She beams at your words, “They’re a little more docile in this state, but they can be a handful at times. We haven’t really had a big outing like that since the divorce, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“Then consider it done, as soon as they’re better let me know. We can all go out and have some fun.”

Wanda can’t help the feeling she gets hearing you talk so nonchalantly about going out with her kids. It’s something like a spark, that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She takes this time to really look at you, you’re stunning. Truth be told Wanda had always found you a little attractive, but she wrote it off as you just being conventionally good looking. However now, with you standing in her kitchen cooking for her and her kids. She’s starting to think it’s more than that.

“Do you like children, Y/n?”

“I have a soft spot for kids, it’s partially why I chose to work at the library. I had kind of a rough upbringing as a kid. It was just me and my mom, and money wasn’t all that great, but I remember her taking me to almost all the community events they hosted at the library. We spent a lot of time there. When I was old enough to go on my own, it was rare that I didn’t go. The library is such a haven for kids it’s one of my favorite things about it.”

Wanda felt herself melting under the sincerity of your words, “That’s really sweet.”

You start cooking down the vegetables before you answer, “Yeah, if I wasn’t so crazy about the library, I would’ve been a chef. I actually applied to a few culinary schools in high school, pretty ambitious but I had won a few competitions. I had offers and full ride scholarships to some of the best schools out there, but I chose to become a librarian instead.”

Wanda tilts her head to the side playfully, “So you weren’t just talking shit when you said you’re going to make a soup 1 million times better than mine.”

You laugh, “Technically I’m using the ingredients that you told me to get, so it’s more like our soup. I’m just tweaking a few measurements and cooking it a little different. It’s like a group project, if you will.”

Wanda laughs even harder, “You’re so full of shit.”

“Language, there are children present.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “They’re upstairs."

“Children have super good hearing Wanda, trust me, I’m a librarian.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle. She watches as the soup comes together a lovely aroma fills the kitchen, her mouth waters at just the smell.

“It smells delicious.”

You motion her over to the stove next to you. She scurries over, which makes you smile. She looks utterly adorable and ethereal at the same time. You began to notice it over the last few times you had hung out. Wanda was simultaneously the cutest and the most beautiful woman, you think you’d ever met in your life

“Taste,” you hold a spoon full of soup up for her.

She hesitates a little, but decides to just eat from the spoon while you hold it. Her eyes close as the flavors dance on her tongue. She lets out an involuntary moan, that has her blushing as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the best soup I’ve ever had in my life,” Wanda stares at you in awe.

“I hope the boys think so too.”

Wanda helps you fill the bowls for them, “They’re going to love it.”

True to her words the boys devour the soup going as far as to ask for seconds. Neither of you can deny them another bowl. Once they eat, you can see the food working in tandem with the medicine to tucker them out. Before they’re completely out of it you and Wanda get them ready for bed.

It feels more normal than either of you expected. By the time you’re done, both twins are now in bed. The tv plays something at a low volume, but you and Wanda are both aware that the kids will likely be asleep as soon as you leave the room.

When you leave you head back to the kitchen fixing 2 more bowls of soup for Wanda and yourself. You eat amongst each other with small chatter, but it’s comfortable. When you’re done, you almost have to fight Wanda to allow you to do the dishes.

She pouts, once again sitting at the barstool watching you clean.

“You haven’t let me help this whole time,” she whines.

“I’m here to help you, not the other way around,” you remind her.

Wanda places her hands on her hips, “But if you’re doing everything, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit there and look pretty,” you say without thinking.

Wanda feels her face heating up, losing track of how many times it has happened today alone, “Look pretty, huh?”

You can feel your ears heating with embarrassment, “oh I- well.”

“Oh my god are your ears turning red, that’s literally adorable. Are you flustered, Y/n?” Wanda teases.

You glare at her with faux-anger, “My ears? Your cheeks are just as red.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

You wash your hands, quickly drying them before approaching her. You keep walking until there is virtually no space between the two of you. You look down at her, you don’t stop your eyes from dropping to her lips.

“Oh really?”

She looks up at you, her cheeks indeed, red like you had mentioned.

“And if they were?”

“Maybe I’d say that it’s adorable,” you use her words against her. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Her eyes dart to your lips.

You look back into her eyes, “Maybe, I’d kiss you.”

“I’d like that.”

That was all you needed to hear. She met you halfway and, in an instant, you were kissing. Your hand rested on the small of her back, while her hands locked around your neck. It was cliché but it was cute. The kiss itself was respectable, but still filled with a feeling of longing.

Wanda’s hands drop from your neck to lightly push you back, “I’m divorced with two kids Y/n-"

You stop her before she can even rant, “I know, Wanda. I’ve been here, maybe not the whole time, but most of it. I don’t care that you’re divorced and I’d love to get to know your kids. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“I feel like you already know me, Y/n. We’ve been friends for over a year now. We’ve spent so much time together, I’m just surprised you’re not tired of me yet.”

You take her hands in yours, “I could never get tired of you. I’m quite literally asking for more. Let me take you out some time.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s bold, but you place a quick kiss on her lips, “Positive."

From there things just seem to fall into place. You kept your promise to the boys, taking them out when they recovered from their sickness. Wanda was impressed by how well you mingled with them considering her ex always seemed to struggle to relate. However you, had no problem tapping into that childlike like amazement that the kids felt.

Soon after that outing, you and Wanda went on your first real date. You took her out to a nice restaurant. It was an upscale establishment, the prices weren’t even on the menu. Wanda tried to fret about how she didn’t know if she deserved this kind of treatment, but you always reassured her.

You believe she deserved the best and as long as you could give it to her you would.

It only took 4 dates before you asked her to be you girlfriends, not being the best at waiting. Luckily for you she agreed and truth be told if you would’ve asked her on the first date she probably would’ve said yes then.

At this point you’ve been dating for a little over a year. The twins are with their father for the weekend, and Wanda is staying over at your apartment.

The two of you are on the couch. She’s resting in your arms as you watch tv, “Wanda.”

She looks up, “Yes, detka.”

“How attached are you to your house?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You hold her gaze, “Is it crazy if I say that I want us to live together?”

Wanda plays with your fingers, “No, I don't think so.”

You kiss her forehead, “It’s just a thought.”

“You want to buy a house?”

You nod curtly, “We don't have to leave the area, I know the boys have school and I wouldn't want to pull them away or make them start fresh or anything, but I’ve been looking at some homes in the area. Something a little bigger, Billy and Tommy could both have their own room and a huge backyard. Maybe a dog, in the future.”

Wanda cups your face gently, pulling you down to kiss her, “I would love to buy a home with you Y/n.”

“Really?”

Wanda kisses you again, “Really.”

“I love you,” your eyes softening as the words fall from your lips.

“I love you too.”

Your lips are connected again, this time neither of you break the kiss. Instead Wanda shifts in your lap to straddle your waist. Her hands playing with the tiny hairs on the back of your neck. Your hands start at her thigh but end up sliding up to her hips, and soon your fingers are in contact with the cool skin of her stomach.

You aren’t able to stop yourself from kissing down her jaw. She moves her hair and cranes her neck to give you more access. Your teeth sink into her neck only for your tongue to soothe the skin. You suck the spot tenderly, causing little whines to emanate from Wanda.

“Y/n,” your name is breathless on her lips.

She doesn't have to say anything else for you to stand up with her still in your arms. You carry her to the bedroom. Once you’re in there and her feet are on the floor, you pull her shirt off. Yours follows after.

Wanda feels herself getting wet under your gaze. The way you take in her bare chest, eyes blown with want. While you stare she gets rid of the rest of her clothes. You eagerly do the same.

You pull her flush against your body. Skin heating upon contact.

“You’re perfect,” your thumb toys with one of her nipples.

Your head dips to take it into your mouth. You suck lightly, ever so often slowly fanning your tongue over the nipple. You do the same to the other nipple, while your hand cups her warmth. You moan at her wetness.

“ I need you,” she whispers.

You kiss her tenderly, backing her onto the bed. You’re gentle as you ease two fingers into her. She arches her back slightly, and her kiss becomes sloppier.

You’re in no rush as you slowly build pace. Her finger nails dig into your back.

“More please,” she buries her head in your neck.

You begin pumping at a faster pace, using your thumb to stimulate her clit. Her ragged breaths in your ear only turn you on even more.

You jolt as you feel her hand in-between your legs. Her fingers play through your folds and you hear her gasp in your ear.

“All for me baby?”

You nod, “All for you, Wands. Can I taste you, baby?”

“Fuck,” Wanda murmurs.

She pulls her fingers from you, signaling for you to suck them. You take them in your mouth, swirling you tongue around the digits, high off of your own taste.

Once her fingers exit your mouth, you maneuver down her body. You momentarily take your fingers out of her. She doesn’t have time to complain before you’re sucking on her clit.

“Holy shit,” she entangles her hands through your hair.

You keep eye contact with her as you lick, suck, and slurp her pussy. She throws her head back, taking her lip between her teeth. You can see sweat illuminating her body.

Soon you add your fingers back and you can feel her approaching her edge.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she keeps repeating the mantra as she reach her peak.

You don’t stop when she cums on your tongue, only slowing your motions, to help her come back down.

“You did so good for me baby,” you say kissing up to her lips.

She shifts so her thigh is against your dripping cunt, “Your turn, my love. Use me.”

You see her flex her thigh, which causes you to moan, “Fuck, Wanda.”

Your hands rest on her shoulder as you begin to grind down on her. Her hands are on you, but the movements are all yours. Wanda watches with blown eyes as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Her hands climb up your sides to massage your breasts. You bite your lip as her fingers play with your nipples.

Wanda sits up slightly, just enough to get her mouth on your body. She sucks on near the top of your breasts, trailing hickeys across.

“I love it when you make a mess on my thigh, cum for me, moya lyubov.”

You cum all over her thigh. Her arms wrap around your midsection holding you steady as you shake. Her head rests against your chest, listening to your wild heart beat return to normal. She places a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

You kiss the top of her head, “I love you too.”

Once you’re both cleaned up, you settle in bed for the night. You’re start out as the big spoon but soon Wanda turns to face you.

“I was so scared before you came into my life,« she admits.

“Wanda-"

She shakes her head, “Let me finish. I was so lost, I didn't know what to do, if there was anything I could do to feel like myself again. There were so many days I went through thinking I was unlovable. Then you show up, and all of those feelings and thoughts just leave. I’ve never felt so cared for. You make me remember all of the things I love about myself. You make love seem so easy, it feels obvious when you’re with me. I’ve never experienced a love like you’ve given me and I need you to know I love you too. I’ve never felt what I feel for you with anyone else.”

Wanda starts out loud and sure, but by the end her voice is quiet. She doesn’t break eye contact, fighting against her insecurities.

There are no more words shared between the two of you. Wanda kisses you with everything she is feeling and you return her fervor. She pecks you again before burying her head in your chest. You hold her tightly in your arms wondering how you ended up being so lucky.

Her words make emotion swell inside of you. Your voice cracks when you speak, “You are the love of my life. I was doing alright before, but you and the boys are truly everything I’ve been missing in my life. Getting to be with you, a part of your family, it means everything to me Wanda. Thank you, for letting me love you.”

[palajae]

the calm after the storm.

PAIRING... jungwon x reader? | GENRE... idol! au, romance, angst | WC... 1k

he plops onto the couch with a sigh, feeling the exhaustion settle into his bones. one show after another, checked off the tour set list. sometimes, jungwon wonders how much more he has in him. 

the staff allows all of the boys free time to explore afterwards, as always. jungwon takes his time getting ready in the hotel room. he didn’t have much to do, a simple baseball cap would suffice for going out at night.  

he pats the remaining of his skincare in. it’s too quiet in the spacious double king room. he wonders where ni-ki, his assigned roommate for this leg of the tour, is. probably visiting the other nembers. 

then, jungwon warily eyes his phone sitting on the bathroom counter next to him. he shouldn’t—he knows he needs to stop. more for his own sake, anyway. 

but after every single concert, strangely enough, his thoughts always circle back to you. 

his plans are interrupted—he quickly shuts the balcony door and hits the dial button. 

while jungwon nervously waits for an answer, the familiar tune filling his ears, he observes the sight in front of him. the beautiful nightlife in the city, unfamiliar lights and sounds filling the silence. it was the kind of view that should’ve taken his breath away.

but all he can think of, all he can feel, is your absence. that lonely ache in his heart. 

he isn’t sure how many rings pass until the screen lights up with your face. your face looks confused, yet it softens when jungwon finally acknowledges you. 

he takes all of it in—you sitting on your couch, wearing a hoodie that’s too large for you. jungwon almost winces. 

your hair is slightly tousled and makeup already off, he guesses it’s been a long day. even so, you were so beautiful that his breath hitches. 

ah, and he forgot about the time difference. lucky him for catching you at the right time. 

you smile hesitantly when you call out his name. he realizes how much he missed the sound. 

“jungwon,” you state pleasantly albeit surprised, “is there a reason you called? i thought you guys just finished-“

“hey,” jungwon suddenly has to clear his throat. he’s caught off guard by how much he has to control his feelings. he shifts his weight between his feet, clutching his phone a little tighter over the precarious railing. 

“sorry, for uh, disturbing you right now. i don’t know if you’re busy or what but, i just… i felt like calling.” 

your head tilts, curiosity in your eyes as your smile still holds a silent question. but you don’t push, as always. your patience was probably one of the things he admired most about you. 

“where are you guys right now? made it back to the hotel?”

jungwon nods, bangs falling slightly into his eyes as he feels the satisfaction fill him, just by seeing you and hearing your voice after so long. 

“yeah, we made it back.”

“then…you guys must be exhausted. you should-”

“no no, i’m alright. it’s worth it.” 

“oh, okay.” your lips press into a thin line. jungwon’s not sure if it’s because you’re unconvinced.

he turns the camera around to show you the view. 

“i’m,” he squints at the small screen in the corner, “i’m not sure if you can tell but—it’s really pretty here. but i don’t know, it just feels like something’s missing.”

jungwon turns the camera back to himself, watching you closely. your expression softens as he waits expectantly for an response. 

“does it?” 

“i don’t know how to explain it… kind of like i’m missing someone. it’s just too empty without…”

jungwon almost adds the you, it just barely refrains from coming out. he has to catch himself. as much as the word burns on the tip of his tongue, he holds himself back. 

it just doesn’t feel right without you. it never does, really—he wants to say. 

you blink, mouth opening to speak but you don’t say anything at first. he sees the way unreadable emotions flicker across your face, as if you’re deciphering his words and collecting your thoughts. 

“jungwon?” your voice comes out just a hair above a whisper. 

“i don’t think i-“

the door to the balcony flies open and jungwon jolts up. 

it’s ni-ki. 

“yo, what are you doing out here alone?”

his gaze falls onto the bright phone screen in his hands. jungwon feels his heart plummet to his stomach. 

ni-ki’s eyes squint at the screen before his face morphs into one of bewilderment. 

“is that my—“

“ki?” you visibly brighten up, and jungwon has no other choice but to drag his two feet over to his bandmate and share the screen. 

“baby!” he greets you back, gaze shifting between jungwon and the screen curiously. 

“what were you guys talking about?”

“oh—nothing much,” jungwon says as nonchalantly as he can, “just trying to catch up. i actually called heeseung’s brother earlier.” 

he isn’t sure why and how he came up with that lie on the spot. 

“oh,” the younger one simply nods, “cool.”

“wait, that reminds me. ki—you told me you were gonna call after the concert ended!” you interject with a playfully disapproving frown. there’s that sparkle in your eyes again, jungwon notices. 

wordlessly, he hands his phone to ni-ki. “i didn’t forget! i just got back and wanted to check up on jungwon first. i just didn’t know he beat me to it,” ni-ki jokes.  

jungwon forces out an awkward laugh. you smile again, although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“my boyfriend’s bandmate cares about me more than my own boyfriend does,” you pretend to sulk. as ni-ki childishly protests and you fight back, jungwon eventually sighs and smacks ni-ki’s shoulder. 

“alright, alright, you two. it all worked out. now you can yap.” 

jungwon shoves his phone into the youngest’s hands and pushes him to the door exasperatedly, “you know what—just take my phone and talk inside. i’m tired.” 

ni-ki stares at jungwon, about to retort, but he simply holds out a hand to stop him, “leave me out here in peace.” 

“huh? what did he say?” your voice cuts through, and jungwon only closes his eyes. 

that was his final straw. ni-ki has no other choice but to go in, the sound of your two voices getting quieter and quieter. 

jungwon wonders what would’ve happened if he really said what he meant. if he really spoke what he felt. how would it all be different? 

he supposes he’ll never know. 

and neither will you. 

a/n ▸ surprise?! had my spring break + my bday coming up so just wanted to pop in with a little something :>

[solxamber]

can I request a twst males (maybe females)and nrc staff with a reader who kinda likes deforms when their stress , they could be like a human slime who 'slops' around , she's human enough but some parts of her are slimy (maybe like a human magma slime from minecraft) , they stresses a lot and one day they just blob into their hands (the twst males ans staff) whilst they start crying , if this is too complicated u can ignore this.(my English is not too god)

Slime! Reader with All NRC + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper, NRC Staff

hi! i hope I've interpreted your ask correctly! and your English is totally fine don't worry about! also I added najma because i didn't know which twst females you wanted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

When Riddle first sees you start to "slop" around, he’s at a loss for words. He's usually composed and strict, but seeing you melt in his arms—quite literally—throws him off.

“Y-You're not following the rules of physical form!” Riddle stammers, attempting to keep calm, but inside, he’s panicking. His need to control the situation is overridden by concern when you cry softly, slimy tears soaking into his uniform.

He awkwardly pats your head, trying to keep himself together. “There, there. You can cry as much as you need to, but please… maintain some semblance of form.”

Trey Clover:

Trey, with his calm demeanor, isn’t too fazed by the fact that you’re half-human, half-slime. In fact, he’s probably the most accepting.

When you melt into a puddle of stress in his arms, he just holds you close, gently massaging your shoulders (well, where your shoulders should be in slime form). “You know, stress baking helps me,” he says soothingly. “Maybe once you’re feeling solid again, we can bake something together. Or… we can make slime cookies?” He smiles softly as your sobs slow.

Cater Diamond:

Cater's immediate reaction is to whip out his phone for a picture—but then he stops himself because this moment is actually serious. When you’re upset and melting all over him, he adjusts quickly.

“Whoa, hey, hey! No need to puddle-up on me!” Cater jokes lightly but holds you tightly, letting you feel safe. “You know, I’ve heard slime baths are all the rage on MagiCam! How about we figure out how to make this slime stress into a #trend?”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, his grip is firm, and he lets you cry it out.

Ace Trappola:

Ace, being Ace, doesn’t know what to do when you start to melt into slime. His first instinct is to make fun of the situation, but the second you start crying, he feels a little bad.

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to stress you out that much!” Ace protests, awkwardly wiping your slimy tears. “You know, some people use this stuff for beauty treatments, so really, you’re just giving me a free face mask.”

Even though he’s flustered, Ace sticks by your side, not moving until you feel better.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s first instinct is to panic when he sees you melting. His problem-solving brain kicks into overdrive, but there’s no quick fix for slime stress.

“I-Is this normal?! Should I be calling a healer?” he blurts out while cradling you, his heart racing. His protective instincts take over as he holds you close, even though you’re all slimy. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona looks down at the slimey version of you with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to literally have you melting in his arms.

“You’re a mess, herbivore,” Leona grumbles, but there's a warmth in his voice as he holds onto you, preventing you from dripping all over the floor. He doesn’t let go, even when his tail gets a little slimy too. “Don’t worry about it. Just stick close, okay?”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie is caught off guard by your sudden transformation, but he’s adaptable. He scoops you up into his arms with a quick grin.

“Hey, hey, don’t go melting all over the place! I’ve got things to do, y’know?” Ruggie jokes lightly. But his tone softens when he sees your distress. “But I guess those can wait. C’mere, I’ll help you get back on your feet—or whatever you have when you’re not slime.”

Jack Howl:

Jack is momentarily stunned when you melt in his arms. His first reaction is to try to lift you back up, but, well, you’re slime, so that doesn’t quite work out.

He huffs, blushing a little. “Just… take your time. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Jack's protective nature shines through, his arms gently wrapped around what solid parts of you remain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, ever the strategist, watches you melt with wide eyes, calculating all the ways to “fix” the situation. However, when you start to sob, his business-like demeanor cracks.

“Ah… There, there,” he says, awkwardly patting your head as you slime down his pristine suit. “I assure you, we can handle this… strategically. No need to cry.” Despite his words, Azul’s genuine concern for you is obvious as he holds you.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks your slime form is hilarious. The second you start to melt, he bursts out laughing.

“Whoa! Shrimpy, you're all gooey now!” Floyd teases, poking at your slimy form. But when he sees you crying, his mood shifts in an instant. “Aww, don’t be sad, Shrimpy. I like this version of you, too!”

He wraps himself around you, squeezing you tightly—slime and all.

Jade Leech:

Jade is intrigued by your stress-induced slime form. While he finds it fascinating, he’s also quick to comfort you when you start crying.

“Quite an interesting phenomenon,” Jade muses, wiping away your slimy tears with a handkerchief. “But please, don’t distress yourself. There’s no need for that. I’m right here.” His gentle voice soothes you as he helps you reform.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is both shocked and amused when you start melting in his arms, but he quickly recovers, hugging you tightly.

“Oh no! You’re turning into slime! Is there something I can do? Wait, I know—let’s throw a ‘Feel Better’ party!” Kalim’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he holds onto you as you cry, offering endless reassurances.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil tries to remain composed when you melt into his arms, though he’s secretly panicking on the inside.

“I suppose this is a normal reaction to stress for you?” he says calmly, even though he’s not sure what to do. He strokes your hair (or, well, slime), patiently waiting for you to calm down. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll help you through this.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s immediate reaction to your slime form is a mixture of shock and mild horror—at first, he’s concerned about you, but also a bit put out by the mess.

“My robes…” he sighs, but his voice softens as he holds you, tears and slime alike. “You’re allowed to cry. But I refuse to let you stay in this state of disarray.”

He brushes the slime from your face and helps you regain composure, all while managing to maintain his usual grace.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is enchanted by your unique form. The second you melt into his arms, he’s already waxing poetic.

“Ah, mon cher! Even in your most vulnerable state, you are truly magnificent!” Rook exclaims, holding you tenderly. “Worry not, I will be your steadfast support, slime or not.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel is confused when you start to melt, but his protective instincts kick in fast.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on there!” Epel says, panicking slightly as he tries to keep you together. “You don’t have to be all stressed out around me. Just breathe, alright?”

His attempts to soothe you are clumsy but genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re back to your usual self.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s first instinct is to panic. You’re melting? This is definitely not something he can handle without freaking out.

“Oh no… oh no… this is bad,” he mutters, but when he sees your tears, he stops. “Uh, hey, don’t cry! I mean, sure, you’re all gooey, but… you’re still cool.”

Idia awkwardly pats your head, unsure of how to handle the situation but doing his best to comfort you.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t panic like his brother. Instead, he’s immediately analyzing the situation with his scanners.

“Are you alright?” Ortho asks, his voice full of genuine concern. “Don’t worry, I can help you! Maybe a temperature adjustment will help stabilize your form?” He hovers near, ready to assist however he can.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds your slime form fascinating, though he’s more concerned about your well-being. When you melt into his arms, he cradles you gently.

“There, there, child of man,” Malleus murmurs softly, his voice like a calm lullaby. His powerful arms hold you securely as your slime tears drip onto his cloak. “You need not fret. I will ensure your safety, no matter your form.”

His dragon-like gaze watches you intently, the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips as your sobs quiet. "Even in your most... fluid state, you are still precious to me."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds your slime form to be amusing, but he’s quick to adapt. When you start melting in his arms, he lets out a cheerful laugh.

“Ah, how adorable! Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen stranger things in my time.” He pats your head reassuringly, not fazed at all by the situation. “Cry all you need to. I’ll be here when you’re ready to solidify again.”

Lilia hums an old fae lullaby while he holds you, and his mischievous side takes a backseat as he comforts you through the tears.

Silver:

Silver blinks slowly when you start to melt in front of him, but instead of panicking, he gently wraps his arms around your slumping form, not minding the slime at all.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady and calm, “it’s okay. I’m here.” His hand moves to stroke your slime-morphed head with gentle care, his touch soothing despite your current state.

“I don’t know exactly how to help,” he admits, “but I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” He pulls you closer, letting you rest in his lap while he hums softly, his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to hold it all in. I’ll keep watch.”

His quiet, reassuring demeanor slowly makes you feel more at ease. He may not say much, but the safety you feel with him speaks volumes.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is utterly baffled when you start to melt into slime in his arms. For a moment, he just freezes, wide-eyed, trying to process what’s happening. Then he bursts out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

His voice is loud, but as he sees the tears in your slimy state, his tone shifts—just a little. “H-Human! Cease this display at once! You cannot fall apart like this!” But even as he says that, he’s awkwardly attempting to gather your melted form without dropping any of it, his hands trembling slightly.

His frustration shows, but underneath it, he’s worried. “I—! Ugh, fine! Stay like this if you must! Just know I... I shall remain by your side, no matter what form you take! So, compose yourself, human!”

His stubborn loyalty shines through, and despite the bluster, you can tell he’s genuinely concerned. It’s a chaotic kind of support, but it’s Sebek, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo is startled and somewhat appalled by your sudden transformation into slime, but he masks his discomfort with a dignified air.

"This... is highly irregular," he mutters, though his hands remain gentle as they hold you. "But I suppose even someone like you has their moments of weakness."

Despite his words, there's a hint of warmth in his actions, and he stays by your side until you're feeling better, his cold demeanor melting just a bit.

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige’s reaction is pure concern when you start to melt. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close despite the slime.

“Oh no, are you okay?” Neige asks, worry etched across his face. “Don’t cry, please! You’re still beautiful, no matter what!”

His words are sincere, and he strokes your back soothingly as you sob, not caring one bit about the slime soaking into his clothes.

Najma Viper:

Najma is quick to comfort you when you start melting in her presence. She’s a bit surprised but reacts with ease.

“Whoa, that’s a neat trick! But hey, no need to cry, okay?” Najma smiles gently, holding you close. “You’re safe with me. We’ll figure this out.”

She’s calm and reassuring, her warmth helping you regain your composure faster than you thought possible.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley dramatically flails his arms when you start melting into slime, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

“Oh dear heavens, my precious student! What calamity has befallen you?” He panics, trying to scoop up your gooey form in a very uncoordinated manner. “No need to cry! Your benevolent headmaster will, um, fix this! Somehow!”

He’s more focused on not getting slime on his fancy coat than actually helping, but he makes a grand show of being concerned, which is as close to comfort as you’re going to get from him.

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure.

“Well, this is... unexpected,” he says, eyeing the slime dripping onto his pristine coat. “But emotions, pup, are not something to be ashamed of. Even if they do involve... melting.”

He carefully wipes the slime from his hands, his tone softening. “You’ll pull yourself together soon. We’ll make sure of it. And once you do, we’ll work on controlling that stress—there’s no excuse for letting your emotions ruin your wardrobe.”

He pats your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, his usual sternness fading in the face of your distress.

Mozus Trein:

Trein, with Lucius perched on his shoulder, looks down at you as you begin to melt into a puddle of slime.

“Hmm,” he muses thoughtfully. “This is not something you see every day, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He crouches down, his expression surprisingly calm. “When one is overwhelmed, their emotions can manifest in unusual ways. It’s important to take a moment and breathe.” He offers a hand, which Lucius bats at. “Compose yourself. You’ll recover, just as we all do from difficult moments.”

It’s unexpectedly wise advice, and his steady presence helps you feel grounded again.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas is completely caught off guard by your sudden transformation into slime. He stares at you in disbelief before quickly scooping you up with a burst of energy.

“Whoa! That’s some serious stress! But don’t worry, we’ll get you back into shape in no time!” he says, flexing a bicep as if that will somehow solve your problems.

He awkwardly pats your gooey form, his optimism unshaken. “This just means you’ve got some inner strength waiting to burst out! Once you pull yourself together, we’re doing a killer workout to blow off all that steam, okay?”

It’s hard to stay upset with his over-the-top enthusiasm, even in your slime state.

Sam:

Sam chuckles when you start melting, entirely unfazed.

“Well, now, ain’t that something,” he says, leaning on the counter of his shop. “You must be feelin’ all sorts of stress, huh? No worries, I’ve seen worse.”

He grabs a cloth and gently wipes your slime tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll brew up something that’ll help you feel right as rain? Stress is just like a storm—it’ll pass, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

His easygoing nature and the comforting atmosphere of his shop start to calm you down almost immediately. It’s impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Masterlist

[darkbluekies]

Dr kry x nurse reader

Like imagine nurse reader was college student wanted to be a nurse to learn some medicine or help people sick and taking care old people

Sea sick

Doctor!yandere OC x nurse!reader

Summary: being the only one to be granted as Dr Kry’s apprentice on board a hospital ship ends in tragedy

Warning: yandere, sinking ships (fictional ship and incident), poisoning, indirect killing, mentions of dead bodies and autopsies, blood, sharp objects

Word count: 8k

A/N: a lot of people hav wanted a story where darling is a nurse and I have tried writing it so many times over a year, but haven't been able yo. So I tried changing location and it seemed to work, so it is not exactly what was asked, but I hope that it is enjoyable anyway!

He stands on the promenade deck, watching out over the harbor, breathing in the fresh air. People carried on stretchers catch his eyes. 

He used to get sea sick during his first weeks out at sea. There was something about how the ship rocked back and forth during the stormy days that made his stomach turn inside out and want to eject the food he had eaten. But now that he's been here for three months, it's barely noticeable. He hasn't thrown up for three weeks. A new record. 

He has grown to like the rocking motion of the sea, but doesn’t care much for the people he shares the ship with. The female nurses try to invite him into their cabins, the male nurses fight over who will be his apprentice and the doctors either watch him with jealousy or ignore him. It’s only for a few more months, until he has saved up enough money. Until everything is over. 

They’ve just picked up a town hall full amount of wounded soldiers and new nurses. Doctor Kry has heard that his new trainee will be among them. He scans the crowd of people walking towards the gangway, trying to guess which one will be his to deal with. He hopes that they are obedient — he has no interest in scolding them — and that they aren’t stupid. 

“Watching the fresh blood?” a voice asks. 

He turns to the side to see one of the other doctors coming out to look at the new herd. Doctor Hart is an asshole, always in everyone’s business. One could almost think that he was getting paid for it. 

“You could say that”, Doctor Kry replies shortly. 

“How many dead, do you think?”

Doctor Kry let his eyes wander over the crowd below. 

“Fifty, maybe”, he says. 

It’s a cruel game, he knows that, to guess how many won’t survive the trip to the mainland. But he doesn’t know how to converse with the other doctors unless he joins in on their sad games. 

Sometimes, he plays with the nurses out on deck. There’s all sorts of games tucked away in boxes, ready to be taken out whenever.

“I heard that your trainee will be among those”, Doctor Hart says and nods down at the group of waiting people. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“I don’t know”, Doctor Kry replies shortly and stops leaning on the railing. “I should go find out.”

He doesn’t wait to hear the reply. He’s not sure where to go for his trainee to find him, but he decides to go to his cabin — if not to be at a static place, then to get away from everyone. Him getting a trainee must be the only hot topic they have. 

He navigates the white naked steel corridors to get to his cabin. It’s hard to believe that this naked ship should be covered with polished oak panels, golden details and expensive paintings. None of that can be afforded to be lost, in case the ship is sunk. 

They have lifeboat drills every morning to make sure that everyone on board knows what to do. Since they rotate staff often, those drills need to be done. They’re boring, but handy. 

The ship is nothing more than an empty shell of what she’s supposed to be, stripped of anything that gives her personality. All that’s left is bare necessities, nothing for pleasure.

He opens his door and walks in. The room is small and only contains a bed and a desk, the walls bare steel. It has a rectangular window overlooking the forecastle and he can’t help but think that he has gotten one of the best cabins on the ship. He knows that doctors, officers — both military and ship — and a handful of passengers, get better cabins than  the wounded or nurses. 

Doctor Kry sits down by the table and opens his notebook to write. He has time to finish two pages before there is a knock on the door. It’s a drastic knock, as if the person on the other side of the door is either nervous or eagerly excited. He stands up, not knowing what to expect as he opens the door. Outside stands a young thing, with their hands clasped in front of them. You take him by surprise. You’re not what he expected — but then again, what had he been expecting?

“Are you Doctor Kry?” you ask. 

“Yes, I am”, he replies. 

“I’m told that I am your apprentice.”

He lets his eyes wander over you. You seem so … small? You’re younger than he had thought, and there’s something naive about you. He can’t help but wonder what events has led you to end up here. 

He realizes that he can’t have you standing out in the corridor forever and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You walk past him into the small room and look around. 

“You have a better cabin than I do”, you say with a small — nervous — laugh, as if to bring some kind of humanity into the conversation. It’s as if you want to skip right past the awkward small talk. You grimace. “I have to share a cabin with five others. We only have a small porthole.”

Doctor Kry closes the door. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Oh, sorry”, you reply quickly, eyes widening with realization. “Y/N.”

Doctor Kry can’t help but tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Are you always this light-headed, Y/N?” he asks.

You look down in embarrassment. 

“No, doctor”, you say. “I am just nervous. I haven’t done anything like this before. Sorry, doctor.”

“Sit down.”

You look around for somewhere to sit and end up on his neatly fixed bed. Doctor Kry sits down on his chair by his desk. You fiddle with your hands in your lap as your eyes follow him. 

“You’re going to be my trainee, which means that you have to listen to me at all times”, Doctor Kry says. “The medical field is a profession that requires precision. One faulty move and someone could die. Is that clear?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I’m responsible for you, so I don’t want you doing anything stupid, do you get that? No breaking rules, no stupid behavior.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He stretches his neck. 

“This doesn’t have to do with you but I will tell you this anyway, in case it should occur”, he says stiffly. “If any of the other nurses give you any trouble, you’ll come tell me right away, understood?”

“Yes doctor”, you reply. 

“Good. In that case, let's get started. A lot of people have boarded the ship today, and we need to check up on them. You might have thought that you’d get a day to settle in, but that’s not how we do things here. On board, things can happen at any hour of the day and you need to be prepared.”

You nod. 

“Good”, he says, pleased. “Let’s go then, we have work to do.”

When he stands, so do you. He walks towards the door and so do you. You follow him through the corridors like a puppy, in silence. You don’t say anything. Maybe this will work for him after all?

You come out to the main staircase, a pathetic excuse of what it should be, and walk up a flight of stairs. What should be the lounge is now an operating theater and bedroom to wounded soldiers. He can hear you draw a breath as you walk in. The smell must hit you, he guesses, the smell of pain and blood. 

You follow him around the open room as he talks to different men and women who have all kinds of painful injuries and sickness symptoms. You’re quiet behind him. When he’s done with his round, he takes you out onto the promenade to get you some fresh air. You hold onto the wooden railing. 

“That can be unpleasant”, he says, leaning onto the railing beside you with his elbows. “Especially if it is one's first time. You’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to expect”, you reply. “I knew that it would be … bad … I just didn’t know what type. Tomorrow will be better. Now I know what to expect.”

You give him a small smile. Don’t give up on me yet, I will prove myself to you. You are weirdly cute. 

“Why are you here if you lack so much experience?” he asks.

“Good question”, you sigh. “Money problems, I suppose. My family has it rough.”

“How long will you be here?”

“A few months, until I've saved enough money.”

Doctor Kry nods. “Same here.”

“Is life on board tiresome?” you wonder. “What do you do out on sea?”

“Some play deck games, some write, draw or read”, Doctor Kry says. “Some spend time with the wounded. Everyone comes up with different activities.”

“I would like to explore the ship, see what the home I will have for the coming months contains.”

“If you want I can give you a tour.”

“Really? Thank you, I would love that.”

You follow the doctor inside again. He decides to start from the bottom of the beast and show you up to the very top.

The orlop deck is the one right above the boilers. The two of you shouldn't wander further below, in case of danger. The orlop deck contains a mailroom and the cargo hold. It's chilly inside the ominous cargo room. Wooden boxes stand in groups.

“These contain everything from weapons to medical equipment to food and alcohol”, Doctor Kry says and taps the top of a wooden box. “Some people — of the military staff, I've been told — sneak down here to steal some of it. I wouldn't advise you to explore down here. The ones you'll meet will most likely be drunk beyond measure and not trustable.”

“I understand”, you say.

“That being said, let's go upstairs.”

G-deck is filled with bunk beds, rows and rows of them. Walls that used to separate cabins have been demolished and left are the marks on the floors where they should stand. People are in bed, either sleeping or chatting with each other. They’re wearing bandage.

F-deck was the same as G-deck, filled with bunk beds and cabins. 

E-deck has a pool with crystal clear water. It’s a simple pool, only there for exercise. It used to have much more detailing, a children’s part of the pool and some children’s floating toys. 

“It would be nice to swim here”, you say. “After long hours of standing.”

“I think it is nice”, Doctor Kry says. “I haven’t used the pool yet. I think it’s seawater but, like I said, I haven’t tried the pool yet.”

Before he has time to think, you’ve crouched down, sunk your cupped hand into the water and taken a lick. Doctor Kry gasps and twitches forward.

“What are you doing?” he questions. 

“It is seawater”, you say. 

He grabs your wrist, pulls you up on your feet and shakes your hands free of the water.

“That is disgusting, do not do that again”, he says sternly.

You laugh slightly, meeting his eyes. Doctor Kry shakes his head, but has to restrain himself to not smile. 

“Get out”, he says, nodding at the door. 

You walk before him. Your youthful behavior is going to wear him down. 

D-deck has more dim corridors than the others you’ve explored. Doctor Kry stops in front of a steel door with his hand resting on the handle. 

“This room is the morgue”, he says slowly. “I don’t expect you to like this room, but I do expect you to treat it with respect. Don’t do anything ‘fun’ here, like you did in the pool. Understood?”

You nod. Doctor Kry opens the door. A chilly wind blows through you. You hug yourself. The room is colder than the winds up on deck and you look at Doctor Kry to see if he’s also feeling the cold. Along the walls of the room are numbered hatches. You don’t need him to explain what is inside them. Doctor Kry opens a door to the right, showing a small room with an operating table on it. 

“Have you ever performed an autopsy?” you ask. 

“Many times”, he responds and closes the door. 

“Do they get … easier every time?”

“Easier? I wouldn’t say easier, but you learn to shut off your brain. You’ll learn that too while working here.”

He walks you out of the morgue. D-deck also contains even more wards. 

C-deck has the first class dining saloon, now nothing more than a school cafeteria. The tables are simple, the chairs looking uncomfortable. A few men sit by a table eating. Doctor Kry is quick to get you out. 

B-deck has more cabins and open wards, along with an enclosed promenade deck filled with beds, where patients can rest in fresh air. There’s nothing left of the verandah cafe, the suites have been emptied and the hairdresser doesn’t have the equipment that it once had. 

A-deck is the only deck on the ship left with some of her old personality. The lounge has some armchairs and couches and the smoking room still has the painted glass windows. You look at the painted mermaid on the window. 

“It’s beautiful”, you say. 

“It is”, Doctor Kry says. “I think it has something to do with Greek mythology, but I haven’t asked.”

The enclosed promenade deck the two of you had been on is on the same deck. Boat deck, on the other hand, has nothing enclosed. Nothing to shield anyone from wind or rain. Rows upon rows of lifeboats stand in their davits, collapsible ones are positioned on the roofs for easy access. 

“Okay, I think you’ve seen it all”, Doctor Kry says and sighs. “Not much, as you can see. Majority of it have been removed in case anything would happen to the ship.”

“Is there a risk of something happening?”

“The ship is painted white with a green line and big, red crosses. People know better than to sink a hospital ship.”

“But at night you can’t see what color the ship is painted.”

“I assure you that has been thought of. I will show you. Meet me at my cabin at sunset.”

“Okay.”

You knock at his door as the sun is resting on the horizon. Doctor Kry stands up from his chair a bit too quickly.

“Good evening”, you say. “I’m here.”

“So you are”, he replies and grabs his beige coat. “Let’s go, we can get dinner afterwards.”

You follow him out to the main staircase and up to the boat deck. The red shade above you is fading into dark blue skies. Wherever you look, nothing breaks it. You follow Doctor Kry to the stern where you have a good view of the ship. A strand of green light lights up the side of the ship, big spotlights turned to the red crosses. The green light gives your face a magical shade, one which makes the doctor stare at you when you’re not looking. 

“You can sleep soundly”, he says. “As you can see, there are lights showing other ships what we are. Now, how about some food?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of you walk back inside and make your way down to the dining hall. You don’t say anything, but the way your hand travels the railing down the main staircase makes him smile. 

You get a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Doctor Kry leads you to a table full of doctors where he always sits. Not because he likes their company, but because he doesn’t want to sit with the immature nurses. 

“So this is your apprentice?” Doctor Hart says, eyeing you. 

“Yes”, Doctor Kry replies. 

You sit down beside him. 

“I’m Y/N”, you say, remembering how you had forgotten to introduce yourself to Kry earlier. “

“You are a voluntary nurse, right?” a doctor asks. 

“Yes.”

“What training do you have?”

“The absolute minimum, sir. I didn't have time to learn more before being sent here.”

“That’s why they’re my apprentice”, Doctor Kry says before anyone else has time to say something that could invalidate your lack of knowledge. “I’m supposed to train them.”

“You have gotten an unfortunate fit, Y/N”, Doctor Hart says jokingly. “Kry is a good doctor, but probably the most boring man I have ever come across.”

You frown, looking between him and your mentor. 

“I wouldn’t say that”, you say slowly. 

Doctor Kry looks at you with a small smile before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“If you ever get tired of this boring man, I could always use a trainee”, Doctor Hart says with a small smirk. 

The other doctors laugh. You give them a small, uncomfortable smile.

“Let them be”, Doctor Kry says warningly. “You don't have to be an ass to the newcomers.”

He turns away from them, looking at you. 

“Don’t listen to them”, he whispers.

“Okay”, you reply quietly and give him a thankful smile.

He spends the rest of the dinner conversing with you, completely ignoring the other doctors. He asks you about your family life, the members in it, what your favorite memory is. For the first time in months, he's had a purposeful conversation, one he won't forget the second he leaves the dining hall. You've only been here less than a day and yet you've managed to put color in this white steel beast.

“I shouldn't keep you”, he says suddenly. “I suppose that you're tired. You should rest. I will see you tomorrow morning. Will you find your way to your cabin?”

“I think so”, you smile. “Thank you.”

“Be at my door at seven tomorrow morning.”

You nod. Doctor Kry gives you a small nod before walking away. His heart pounds in his chest, already looking forward to tomorrow morning.

Days go by. You spend every waking hour with your mentor, following him like a dog. You don't get why everyone else calls him strict, why some pity you for having him. And some pity themselves for not being picked. It's a weird feeling, you find, that everyone has a divided opinion of you and you have no idea who thinks what. All eyes on you, and none seem to be in your favor.

Doctor Kry is awoken by knocking on his door. Still in his drowsy state can he recognize the pattern. You have a unique sense of knocking. The darkness still covers the sky.

You're standing outside, wet to the bone, wearing your pajamas and a guilty look in your eyes.

“You told me to tell you right away”, you say quickly. “I'm not sure if you meant that literally but … I have nowhere else to go.”

Your voice dies out. Doctor Kry frowns, looking at your wet form up and down.

“What happened?” he asks suspiciously.

“They locked me out.”

“What are you talking about? Who locked you out?”

“The other nurses.”

What?

“Why are you wet?”

“They threw water on me and threw me out of the room. I-I guess that it was a joke but … I didn’t really … find it funny …”

He can tell that you're shivering, although you're trying your best not to show it. It makes him unexplainably furious.  

“Come inside”, he says and steps aside.

He's quick to grab his towel from his trunk and wrap it around you. You sit down on his chair.

“Did they say anything to you?” he asks. 

“Not from what I heard”, you reply quietly, shaking slightly. “Everything went on so quickly. I barely had time to wake up before I found myself in the corridor.”

“They threw you?” Doctor Kry asks, trying to understand. 

“Grabbed me by my arms and threw me out.”

“You must have hit the opposite wall in the corridor.”

“It’s fine.”

He feels his heart tug. His poor little apprentice, getting thrown around like trash. He knew that the nurses were assholes, but he is appalled that none of them even tried to befriend you. He knows that it’s because of him. In some way shape or form, it always leads back to him. It’s his responsibility to take care of you now. And, like hell, he’ll do it.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes to start with”, he says and removes the towel from around your body. “You’ll get sick if you keep them on any longer.”

He helps you remove them and dress you in his spare pajamas, offering you his bed. 

“Don’t go back to that room”, he says. 

“Why?”

“I feel like I am responsible for you and that’s why I can’t let you back there.”

“What do I do then?”

It’s such a simple question, but it makes him feel even more determined to take care of you. You’re asking him how to proceed. You trust him enough to let him decide what should happen to you. It’s enough to make him hear his heart in his ears. 

“You’ll stay here for the night, and I will decide what to do with you in the morning”, he says and removes the cover of the bed. “Why don’t you go to bed while I get you a hot cup of tea?”

“Okay, thank you, doctor”, you say quietly. 

“Of course.”

He smiles as he walks out, but the second he closes the door he feels a pain in his heart. He has been with you for two weeks by now and every day has been a pleasure. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this excited to work. Every meal, he spends it with you. He plays deck games with you on your breaks and play board games in the lounge at night. You’re interesting to him without being annoying. Everyone else gets on his nerves, being too much, too loud, too clingy and too … much. You, somehow, seem to be just perfect in every category. It’s such a rare trait for him to find. He doesn’t care that no one else understands it —  on the contrary, he finds it great that he is the only one you spend your time with — but he hates that the others are childish enough to mess with you because of it. 

Sea air must bring even the sanest people to madness. 

The morgue flashes before his eyes and he stops right in his tracks. He wants to. Oh, how he wants to. But there’s no way that he could play it off. On a secluded place like a ship, there was no place to hide a crime. Nowhere to flee if he did get caught. He’ll figure it out, though. They won’t go unpunished. 

He gets the cup of tea and makes his way back to the cabin.

“Drink this”, he says and holds the cup to your lips. “This should warm you up.”

He notices how you’re trying to take the cup from him, but he won't let you. Wants to feed you. You drink slowly. 

“What do I do from now on?” you ask. 

“Well, firstly, I will talk to your roommates”, the doctor says. “Tomorrow morning. You can take my bed, I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, I can’t do that. I’ve troubled you enough, doctor.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tucks you in and opens his trunk to take out a shirt to use as a pillow. 

“Doctor, please”, you say. “I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be absurd. Enough of this, now go to sleep.”

There’s no use in fighting him, he will not budge. You try to lay as still as you can, but it’s hard to drift off to sleep. You’re unaware that Kry is awake as well, having an even harder time getting some rest. The only thing he can think of is how angry he is at those nurses … but also a particular happiness. They sent you his way. In an unofficial way they sent you right into his clutches. 

The very next morning, he awakens to find you there, in his bed, sleeping peacefully. He stares at you. There is something so heavenly about you. Something alive, among all this death and suffering. 

He changes into his uniform before walking through the ominous corridors of your room. His knock must have echoed in the room because he can hear a few surprised gasps.

He recognizes the tired face that opens.

“If you don't mind, I'll grab Y/N’s things”, he says and, before waiting for a response, pushes past into the room, hitting their shoulder intentionally. “Where are they?”

“Under that bunk bed.”

He follows the pointed finger and grabs a brown bag. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, you know”, he says without changing his normal calm tone. “I thought nurses were supposed to be caring, but what do I know? I never spend time with them. And now I see that it was with good reason.”

“What makes you so special?” one of the nurses scoffs. “There are a lot of doctors people would choose before you too.”

“I'm aware of that, and I'm very thankful for it. But you shouldn't forget that there is a hierarchy on board. I might not fall for your charms, but I can still get you downgraded to kitchen staff.”

He walks out. You're still sleeping when he returns to his cabin and he decides to go get you breakfast.

“Wake up”, he says and places the tray on the desk. “I've gotten you breakfast.”

“Really?” you ask and sit up. “Thank you so much. And thank you for letting me stay here.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives you a cup of coffee. 

“I brought your things”, he says. “I don’t think that you should go back to that room at all. I will try to get you into another cabin.”

“Oh”, you say. “Thank you.”

“You say awfully many ‘thank you’s.”

“Well, you do awfully many nice things for me.”

He tries not to show how happy he gets, but his ears burn a crimson red. You get out of bed and walk over to your bag, looking around for something. 

“I want to give you something”, you say and hold your hands behind your back. 

“What?” asks. 

You take out a little porcelain dog, a spitting image of a Golden Retriever. 

“I don’t have much”, you say, “but I really value this little thing. Take it.”

“No”, Doctor Kry says simply. 

“I don’t have anything else.”

“Which is why I can’t take it.”

“Please?”

He looks at the little dog in your hands and the pleading look in your eyes. His hand reach out and take it in his hand, knowing that he won’t keep it. He will find a way to give it back to you at a later time. But he has to accept it for now so that you don’t feel stupid. 

He places it on his desk and gives you the cup of coffee again. 

“What will we work with today?” you ask. 

“We’re picking up some new people.”

Everytime they pick up new people, he’s reminded of your limited time. One day, sooner than desired, you will walk off the gangway … and someone will take your place. No. Never. He doesn't want anyone else other than you.

Among the newcomers, you find a child. The six year old boy seems to like running along the big ship's decks. 

You and Kry observe him from the promenade boat above.

“Why is there a child?” you ask. “Isn’t it dangerous to let a little boy run around?”

“His parents must either be military, a nurse or wounded”, Doctor Kry replies.

You let go of the railing. Doctor Kry follows you with his eyes as you make your way down to the boy. You introduce yourself, take his little hand and ask him for his. Nicholas. You play with him. Doctor Kry can’t look away. You’re a natural with children. The little boy seems to have genuinely fun with you. You’re running along the deck, back and forth. You pretend to have a hard time catching up with him, making Doctor Kry smile. He’s not much for children. They’re loud, unpredictable and lack consequence-think. He hates all of it. But you seem to have a natural talent for it. The boy seem so comfortable with you. It’s adorable. 

“Doctor!” you shout. 

“What?” he replies without raising his voice. 

“Come down, let’s play something!” 

He sighs and lets go of the railing before making his way down to you and Nicholas. 

“This is doctor Kry”, you tell the boy. “He won’t bite you.”

“Bite?” Doctor Kry scoffs. “Since when have I ever bitten someone?”

“That’s what I’m saying — you won’t bite him.”

“I never bite to begin with.”

“That’s what I’m saying, so what are you arguing about?”

“Y/N- … nevermind, I’m getting nowhere.”

You laugh. He shakes his head disapprovingly, but his heart aches fondly. You’re like an annoying fly buzzing around, but he doesn’t want to kill you. 

You play curling on the deck and you throw lamely to let the little boy win. He tries to match it, tries to follow your lead. 

The image doesn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day. The only thing he sees is you with the little boy. 

“Doctor, be careful!”

He doesn’t notice how he’s slipped with the scalpel and cut himself in the palm. With a hiss, he backs away from the man on the operating table. You grab his other arm and pulls him with you. His head is awfully cloudy. The only thing he sees in front of him is your smile when you played with the boy. 

“Sit here”, you say and place him down on a chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yes … yes, I’m fine”, he says and clears his throat. 

You clean his hand and wrap it in bandage. Your touch makes him want to pass out. But it also makes him want to yell in frustration. How could he slip up that easily? He has never been distracted during an autopsy and suddenly seeing you with a child puts him out of balance enough for him to slip the knife?

“You need to be careful”, you tell him.

“I know”, he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t enjoy hurting myself.”

“I didn’t mean that, I know you’re careful, I just-”

He realizes that he’s made a mistake. 

“I know”, he says, cutting you of before sighing heavily and continuing in defeat. “I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not angry with you.”

He could never be. If anything, he’s furious at himself. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. 

You let go of his bandaged hand. 

“It should be okay now”, you say. “But I don’t think that you should go back.”

“I won’t”, he says. “They need a steady hand and clearly my isn’t.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, doctor. It happens to the best of us.”

He sighs and stands up, keeping his eyes on a point above your head. 

“Let’s go out”, he says stiffly and clenches his jaw. “I need air.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you ask. 

His reply comes short. “Just come.”

You nod and hurry after him out on deck. His entire body screams anger. You don’t dare to open your mouth, scared to upset him even more. Instead, you follow him like a shadow around the promenade deck. He suddenly stops and looks at you, as if he just only realized that you are still here. You back away a few steps to give him space. He flinches forward, as if his body wants to walk over to you, but his brain stops him. He wants to hug you. Wants so bad. But it is not professional. 

“Maybe i should go”, you say. “I think that you need some alone time to think. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“No, wait”, he says and grabs your arm. “Don’t leave.”

You look at him questionably. 

“Let’s just sit”, he says and pulls you over to the deck chairs. 

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” you ask hesitantly. “You seem a bit on edge.”

“It’s not directed at you”, he says.

“Okay, but you’re still upset. I know that you hurt yourself, but it’s okay, it’ll heal quickly.”

“It’s not just that.”

He never makes mistakes. He never slips up. You’re becoming dangerous for him.

“Do you want to tell me?” you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It’s cute how worried you are about him. He gives you a smile. 

It feels like a dagger through the heart when you tell him that it is your last week on board. What do you mean that you’re going home? You just came here. His mind spins as he tries to come up with something. He needs you here on this boat — or wherever he is — to work properly. Both figuratively and literally. He feels like he performs better, both in the operating theater and as a human. 

The cut on his hand has healed by now, but he can still feel the burning sensation of your fingers against his skin. He can’t — won't — forget it. He kept the bandage, despite the blood on it.

You need to be kept here … and he needs to come up with a solution on how to keep you. He could make you trip down the stairs and have you break a leg. No, you could still return home with broken bones. He could tie you up and lock you in, but if you screamed loud enough someone would hear you through the thin steel walls. You need to blend in. How does one blend in, in a floating prison with wounded people. 

Oh. Of course.

He makes his way to the medical supply room, looking around for something — anything — that he can use. He finds a little green bottle. You shouldn’t drink it straight away, but if he dilutes it in water, it should be fine. 

He decides to mix some of the dangerous substance in your tea the following mornings. For the first few days, there seem to be no symptoms of his little poisoning. Until the fourth morning when you’re not at his door when he expects you. He gets himself dressed and out of the room, marching down to your new — own — cabin. He knocks on the door. 

“Y/N, are you awake?” he asks. 

“Yes”, he hears your voice through the door, your voice thick and hoarse. 

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He opens the door. You’re lying in the bed, curled up with your arms over your stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You shake your head weakly. “Not well. My stomach really hurts … I think that I’m going to throw up. I haven’t been able to go get a bucket so I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

He leaves the room. Out in the corridor, he can’t help but smile. It’s finally kicking in. He had been worried that it wouldn’t work until you had left the ship … where he can’t care for you. He gets a clean bucket from a storage closet and returns. 

“Let’s get you up right”, he says and helps you sit up. 

The motion alone is enough to have you throwing up. He places the bucket under your mouth, letting you empty yourself. 

“I’m sorry”, you hiccup. 

“It’s okay”, he replies. 

“I don’t think I can work today.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

He opens the window and sits down by the desk. 

“You don’t have to stay here”, you say weakly, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine”, the doctor says. “I can see that. You took care of me, now I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s different. I just put on bandage.”

“So? You weren’t skilled for more. I am, and I intend to put my knowledge to use.” 

He stands up abruptly, deciding to start right away. 

“Let’s get you some fresh air”, he says. “This open window won’t do.”

“Doctor, I can’t move”, you say, eyes widening. “I-I’ve tried, but I-I … I can’t.”

He frowns. Has he done too much? 

“My stomach hurts so much and my limbs don’t seem to want to move.”

“It’ll be okay”, he says shortly and lifts you up in his arms. “I’ll do the moving for you.”

He walks slowly along the decks, so as not to make your nausea even more unbearable. He walks out to the enclosed promenade where rows of beds stand along the walls and places you down in one of them, making sure to get you in the sunlight. With a smile, he tucks you in.

“Some fresh air and sunlight will do you good”, he says and sits down on the side of the bed. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? I suppose you haven’t had much this night. I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be safe.”

You nod and make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

“It’s hard to not be nauseous when the ship moves so much”, you mumble. 

“I have the bucket, you can vomit as much as you’d like”, he says. 

“In that case I won’t vomit at all. Because I don’t want to.”

Doctor Kry scoffs with a smile. 

“I know”, he says. “Try to rest now.”

He sits by your side until you’ve fallen asleep. You are so unbelievably sweet. In every single way. Doctor Kry stands up to go empty the bucket. He walks out the enclosed promenade, out onto the open deck and throws the contains over the side. 

“What’s with your apprentice?” Doctor Hart asks, walking over to him with his hands in his pockets. “Rumour says that they’re sick.”

“Yes, they are”, he says shortly. 

“Weren’t they going home this week?”

Do not remind me.

“They were”, he says, even colder. “Not anymore. I can’t let them go back if they have some kind of sickness. Better for them to be isolated here where it can’t spread far.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Yes, very. I think that you should stay away from them — tell everyone else to be cautious and keep distance as well.”

He grimaces and quickly backs away from him, walking away. Doctor Kry smirks and shakes his head. 

And you consider yourself smart enough to be a doctor? 

“What are you doing?”

The little boy is back. Nicholas stands a few steps behind him, watching curiously. 

“I’m emptying a bucket”, Doctor Kry answers, trying not to sound short and cold like usual. You like this kid and if he’s impolite to him, he’s sure he’ll hear about it from you. 

“Why?”

“Because there was vomit in it.”

“Ew! Did you get seasick?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, not me. Y/N’s not feeling well.”

“Is Y/N sick?”

“Yes.”

He looks worried. His best friend isn’t feeling well? Doctor Kry sighs. 

“Do you want to come and meet them later?” he asks. “They’re resting right now but you can come visit when they’re awake again.”

“When is that?” Nicholas asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“How will I know then?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t wait to hear more dumb questions. Doctor Kry walks straight back to the enclosed promenade and places the bucket by the bed. He sits down by your legs and takes your hand. 

A few days go by. He continuous to poison your tea, and help you throw up. When your body doesn’t want to do it anymore, when it’s too exhausted to work for your benefit, he has to help. 

“Alright, open your mouth”, he says, brushing any type of hair away from your face. “This will not be pleasant, but I need you to throw up, okay?”

You sit beside him on the bed with the bucket in your lap, hugging it tightly. Your unsure grimace is enough to answer. 

“I know”, he sighs. “It’ll be quick. It won’t hurt.”

“Okay”, you mumble and nod, opening your mouth. 

He reaches in with his fingers until they touch the soft part of the back of the mouth. Your mouth is warm and soft, making him feel light headed. As soon as you gag, he pulls his fingers away. You hover over the bucket for the thirteenth time in twenty four hours. Doctor Kry pats your back. 

“There you go”, he says. “See? Quick and easy.”

“Easy?” you cough, giving him a stern eye. “Nowhere near easy.”

“Okay, maybe not easy. Bad wording. But it’s over now. Good job, I’m proud of you.”

A sad smile appears on your face. You lean your head onto his shoulder, sighing in exhaustion. Doctor Kry tenses. His heart stops. 

“I’m so tired”, you whisper. “My body hurts.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Your scent clogs up his head. 

“I should be home by now”, you whisper. 

“I know”, doctor Kry whispers comfortingly. 

You break out into sobs. Doctor Kry swallows. He can imagine how you must feel. Body broken and unresponsive, not back home with your family like you had planned and anticipated … and you can’t do anything to stop it. Doctor Kry turns your body to him and hugs you. Holding you feels like heaven. You fit perfectly in his arms, as if you were made for him, and him only. You were born to be his.

“I'm sorry if this is unprofessional”, you mumble. 

“It's okay, you're sick”, he replies thickly

He closes his eyes, enjoying the embrace. It’s everything he could — and have — ever dreamt of. His own little patient, in his arms, where they belong. Only for him. Oh, God, he can never let you go. You will be here for as long as he is, and then he’ll take you back home to him. Whether you like it or not.

“I’m cold.”

“I'll go get you some more blankets.”

He dreads to let you go but he can't deny your request. Your warmth disappears from his embrace. 

He decides to hurry, wanting to get back to you as quickly as possible. As he walks down the main staircase, he feels the entire ship shudder and hear a loud ‘bang’. He has to grab onto the staircase railing to not fall over. The sound of porcelain crashing onto the floor in the distance hits him. He hurries down.

A man covered in soot runs past him. One of the men from the boiler room.

“The ship is flooding!” he shouts in full panic. “We're sinking!”

Doctor Kry widens his eyes. There's no way, right? They're a hospital ship! No one in their right mind would sink a hospital ship! His mind forgets the blanket. He needs a lifebelt. Not a blanket. 

He runs past the room where you had stayed first, and he can see the nurses inside trying to scramble their belongings into small purses. Without thinking, he marches over, shuts the door and grabs the nearest fire extinguisher to break the lock. He throws the fire extinguisher to the side and hurries down the corridor, opening the first door he finds. It's a cabin for female nurses. He reaches over one of the bunk beds, to a net where lifebelts Are kept. He pulls down two and runs out. 

The floor has started to shift beneath him. He can tell that it tilts to his left. She's going down by the stern.

He runs up the stairs, trying to push his way through a flood of people desperately climbing upwards. He wants to shout at them, but it won't matter. No one else will listen or care. Instead, he uses force to push himself through the crowd.

He has to get to you before anything happens. There's no certainty in how much time there is, but there is a certainty of death if he doesn't hurry up. 

He runs through packed corridors, ripping open your door.

“What's going on?” you ask with wide eyes.

There's something horrific with your fearful eyes. Everything about you is dull and tired, besides your panicking eyes. 

“We've been hit”, he says in a steady voice and forces the white lifebelt over your head, tying it tightly around your body. “We need to get to a lifeboat as quickly as possible.”

“What?” you ask in shock. “What happened? You said that we were okay, that nothing would happen to a hospital ship!”

He doesn't answer. If he does, he's worried that he'll snap at you. Instead, he lifts you up and carries you out of the room. He makes sure not to trip, but carrying you through tilted spaces is harder than he expects. Giving up is not an option, however.

The boat deck is crowded. He manages to get through to a lifeboat and sits down with you in his arms.

“I’m scared”, you whisper.

“It's okay”, the doctor whispers back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He holds you tightly when the lifeboat slowly sinks towards the water, scared that you might fall off. 

Seeing the ship from afar as the lifeboat makes its way away from it finally puts things together in your head. You gasp. You had been on that … and if Kry hadn't come get you you would still be on it, waiting for death.

The bow slowly rises out of the water, dripping with water. The sun shines right on it, as if it is the ocean’s main attraction. The room where doctor Kry locked in the nurses is far underwater by now. He hides a smirk under his hand. He had promised that they would be punished for what they had done. They'd have a chance if they hadn't been childish.

“I never thought that I’d see something like this”, you say. “I never wanted to see the bottom of a ship.”

“Me neither”, the doctor replies. 

“Will many die?”

“No, not many. I’m sure of it.”

You creep closer to him, shivering although you don’t feel any cold winds. He holds you tighter. 

The only thing left of the floating hospital is a steamy, bubbling mess, filled with debris. It’s like you can hear her hit the ocean floor. You can’t help but wonder what position she is in, if you’ll ever get to know. If anyone ever will dive down and check. If that will be possible.

“It’s so silent”, you whisper and meet his blue eyes. “It shouldn’t be silent … should it?”

“I don’t know”, he replies. “What is the other choice? People screaming?”

You shake your head quickly. Don’t want to imagine that.

Hours go by. When the evening comes, you’re picked up by another ship and given blankets and food. Doctor Kry stays close to you, not letting anyone get close. He sits in a protective position beside you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning everything and everyone around him. 

The little boy clings to a woman who you guess is his mother. He doesn’t seem to understand what has happened, how lucky he is, and you hope that he never will.

“What will happen now?” you wonder quietly.

“I will continue to care for you until you are well”, he says. “That’s what will happen. I will take care of the rest, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just lean on me and everything will be alright, okay?”

You nod. Doctor Kry smiles and straightens his neck. 

“Good.”

You look up at the colorful evening sky and sighs. No one died this day — apart from a few nurses who doctor Kry didn’t like, but he will never tell you that — and that is a comfort. But you’re unaware of the plans doctor Kry has for you. And maybe that’s for the best.  

[bettelaboure]

⊹ Mile High ⊹ Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader

⊹ Summary: Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) and the reader—his tour manager's assistant—amid the chaos and intimacy of a world tour in 2025. Their teasing banter grows into deep affection, culminating in moments of vulnerability, connection, and a quietly powerful love that lingers long after the final encore.

⊹ Warnings: mature language and suggestive content, emotional vulnerability and themes of burnout, references to illness and exhaustion

⊹ Author's note: i'm trying to push myself out of my comforting smut and angst. what do we think about sweeties? 🤍

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

You never meant to get so close to him.

But cities bled into each other like watercolor on a hotel napkin—Lisbon to Prague to Tokyo—and somewhere in the blur of passport stamps, sleepless nights, and hastily ordered lattes, Kwon Ji-yong started slipping under your skin. What began as harmless proximity soon became a slow entanglement of glances, whispered jokes, and quiet, charged moments you didn’t know how to name.

You meet him for the first time in Berlin, two hours behind schedule and six minutes before the soundcheck meeting. The venue buzzes like a kicked beehive, everyone darting around with a job, a headset, or a minor crisis. The air is thick with urgency and sweat, stage lights blinking awake, sound techs testing mics like angry gods in the rafters.

Ji-yong strolls in with that careless kind of grace only rockstars and men with nothing to prove can manage. He's wearing sunglasses indoors—of course—and a vintage leather jacket with paint smears across the sleeve. He smells faintly of cedar and something more elusive: the kind of scent that lingers long after someone has left.

He calls you “assistant-nim” the first time. Mocking, lilting, like the title tastes wrong in his mouth but he's going to savor it anyway. He tugs his sunglasses down just enough to show the laughter in his eyes, the corners crinkling with amusement.

“Tour Manager’s assistant, right?” he says, voice dipped in that casual, velvet arrogance. "Big responsibility. Guess that means I should be nice to you."

You don’t flinch. You meet his gaze, arching a brow. "You could try being on time first."

He laughs. A low, rich sound, the kind that curls at the edges and stays with you long after he's walked away.

It begins with small things.

An inside joke here. A brush of hands when he passes you a pen. The way he calls you by your last name like it’s a dare, like he's always two seconds from smiling. You notice how often he ends up in your orbit, uninvited but never unwelcome. His presence becomes a background hum—persistent, teasing, intimate.

In Paris, during a chaotic prep for the arena's layout shift, he disappears for nearly an hour. You're about to start a very well-practiced rant when he saunters in, nonchalantly drops a pack of your favorite gum on your clipboard, and walks off without a word. Taped to it is a neon sticky note in loopy handwriting:

Still not as sharp as your tongue.

You read it five times before tucking it into your notebook.

In Seoul, the night before the show, you’re rechecking cue lists when he steals your sharpie from your hand mid-sentence. He draws a tiny, crooked heart on the back of your hand before handing it back.

"A souvenir," he murmurs, voice soft but certain. "In case you forget me."

You laugh like it means nothing. But you tuck your hand away like it means everything.

By Milan, it’s no longer just teasing. Ji-yong seeks you out. He hovers by your table during production meetings, tapping his foot to music only he can hear. He brings you coffee with your exact order scrawled in black marker on the lid. No one ever gets your order right.

“You work too much,” he tells you one night. It's after load-in, after most of the crew has vanished into their rooms or the city’s neon veins. You're hunched over lighting notes in a staff lounge when he appears, hoodie half-zipped, hair a tousled mess.

“They toss you around like a human paperclip,” he adds, settling beside you like he belongs there.

You shrug without looking up. "It’s the job."

He leans forward, elbows on knees. "No," he says, softer. "It’s not supposed to eat you."

You glance at him, surprised by the seriousness threading through his tone. He reaches out, brushes your wrist with the backs of his fingers. The touch is brief, almost clinical, but it sparks something low in your chest.

You forget the next line on your spreadsheet. You forget the spreadsheet altogether.

The night before Amsterdam, you catch a fever. It's nothing dramatic—just exhaustion with a little vengeance thrown in. But you wake up shivering in your hotel room, your voice gone raspy and your skin burning.

You’re wrapped in every spare blanket you can find, trying to type out an emergency email when there’s a knock. Groggy and unsure, you shuffle to the door and crack it open.

Ji-yong stands there, wearing an oversized hoodie, a pink beanie pulled low, and a plastic bag full of supplies.

"Someone told me you didn’t show up to call time," he says, stepping inside before you can protest. "You never skip."

You try to wave him off, mumble something about being fine, but he’s already unpacking the bag—vitamin drinks, oranges, some kind of throat tea, lozenges. He even brought tissues with little cartoon characters on them.

"I Googled what to get. Don’t laugh."

You don’t. You’re too busy watching the way his brow creases when he checks your temperature with the back of his hand. His touch is gentle, a contrast to his usual bravado. When he brushes damp hair from your forehead, you feel yourself lean into it like gravity’s shifted.

“I’ll find someone to cover for you,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Stay. Rest. Let me take care of you."

You should say no. But when he adjusts your blanket and mutters something about making sure you eat, you close your eyes instead.

And for once, you let go.

Somewhere between Vienna and Vancouver, the space between you shifts.

He stands too close now. He doesn’t ask permission anymore to steal your pen—just lifts it with a wink, then gives it back with his fingers brushing yours. You start noticing the things you never let yourself think about before: the curve of his smile when he’s tired, the way he says your name when no one’s around.

The first kiss doesn’t happen in a dramatic place.

It’s backstage in Chicago, the night everything goes wrong. The printer eats the setlist, your crew chief is yelling, and Ji-yong’s been orbiting you all evening like a low, simmering star.

You whirl around, eyes blazing, voice teetering on the edge of something sharp and venom-laced. The words are already curling on your tongue—something about him always hovering, always poking at you when you're hanging on by threads—but the second your mouth opens, he steps into your space.

Your breath catches. His hand rises gently, fingertips brushing against your jaw—not firm, not forceful, just there, like a question you didn’t know you’d already answered. The chaos of the hallway fades into white noise, swallowed by the heat in his gaze.

He kisses you.

It’s not urgent, not hungry. It’s slow. Deliberate. A quiet invasion. The kind that demands nothing but takes everything. His lips move over yours like he’s memorizing a secret. His other hand finds your lower back, and you feel the steady pressure of it anchoring you to this moment, to him.

Your mind blanks. Every thought melts under the warmth of his mouth.

And when he pulls back, barely, your foreheads nearly touching, your breath mixing with his—he smirks.

"Still sharp, assistant-nim?"

You don’t answer. You grab his hoodie, tug him back in, and kiss him again—this time with everything you’ve been holding back.

There’s no warning. No preamble.

Just the press of his mouth on yours, warm and sure and devastating. His hand finds your lower back, grounding you. The hallway around you vanishes. The only thing real is the taste of him, the way he exhales through his nose like he's been holding it for weeks.

Now, he sits beside you on plane rides. His head tilts toward your shoulder when he naps. When he wakes, he offers you his water bottle without asking. You share earbuds. You share silences. You share things neither of you can quite name.

When the world tilts beneath you—from jet lag or impossible deadlines or the weight of always being needed—he’s an anchor. A tether. The only calm in the storm.

Sometimes, when the city outside blurs in neon and late-night noise, you’ll feel his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your arm. Like he’s writing something only you’re meant to read. Like he’s saying something he can’t quite voice.

He never says the words.

But he doesn’t have to.

You feel them in every shared glance, in every quiet smile he saves just for you, in the way he holds your hand when no one’s watching.

You’re the one thing on this tour he never wants to leave behind.

And maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to.

The flight to New York is an overnight haul, cabin lights dimmed to a quiet haze. Most of the crew is asleep or nodding off behind sleep masks and neck pillows. The hum of the engines becomes white noise, lulling, laced with secrets.

Ji-yong catches your eye from across the aisle. There's a subtle twitch of his mouth, that mischievous curve you’ve come to recognize as a question.

You tilt your head.

He mouths, “Come here.”

You glance around. Everyone's out cold or glued to earbuds. He slides a blanket over his lap, shifts slightly to the side in the wide first-class seat.

You hesitate for half a second before unbuckling your belt and slipping over quietly, your thigh brushing his. The armrest stays up. So does your pulse.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmurs, lips close to your ear.

You laugh softly. “So you decided to corrupt me instead?”

His hand finds your knee under the blanket, his thumb tracing a slow, dangerous circle.

“Corrupt?” he says, voice low and amused. “No. I just missed you.”

The warmth of him, the tension of proximity, the secret thrill of being hidden in plain sight—it coils inside you like a tightly wound thread.

His fingers trail higher, careful and slow, like a question. Like he’ll stop if you so much as flinch.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, press your lips against his neck just below the jawline, where his cologne softens into skin and something uniquely him. He shudders.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you whisper.

He exhales a soft laugh, but there's something reverent in the way he touches you. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just slow, deliberate devotion. Every movement a promise. Every breath between you thick with the kind of anticipation that only ever builds on flights like these—hours suspended above the world, rules blurred, gravity forgotten.

By the time you rest your head on his shoulder again, his hand still tangled gently with yours under the blanket, you're no longer wondering what this is.

But the moment stretches—longer, heavier.

His hand doesn’t stay still. His thumb slides over your wrist in slow, thoughtful circles, and the curve of your body leans closer into his. Your breaths sync, shallow and shared. His mouth grazes your temple, then the shell of your ear. The whisper of skin-on-skin sparks another slow shiver down your spine.

You glance up at him—just once—and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, full of that quiet fire he only lets you see.

He leans in, and this kiss is different. This one is deeper, all tongue and heat and aching restraint. His fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely skimming the soft skin at your waist, and you suck in a breath you can’t release.

The blanket shields you both in a cocoon of velvet silence and tension. Your body turns toward his under the cover, your thigh slipping over his lap. His hands grip your hips like he’s memorizing the feel of you—grounded, present, urgent.

And though you don’t say a word, your bodies speak clearly: this isn’t just longing anymore.

It’s need.

His lips return to your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone as you tip your head back just enough to let him. He moves like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like this isn’t the first time he’s imagined you like this—unraveling slowly in his hands, out of breath, out of excuses.

And when your hand slips under his hoodie, palms pressed to the bare skin of his chest, the way he exhales your name against your throat makes your knees weak even seated.

Your heart pounds with every inch gained under the hush of the flight, under the electric hush of what’s no longer unsaid.

You shift again beneath the blanket, breath catching when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings—slow, cautious, and absolutely certain. He watches your face closely, your parted lips, the glaze in your eyes, before his hand moves further. A slow inhale trembles in your chest as his touch finally finds you—confident and unbearably tender.

Your body curls toward his instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips work soft, deliberate circles against you, coaxing breathless little gasps from between your lips. You bury your face in his neck, one hand clenching in the front of his hoodie, the other tangled in his hair. His mouth grazes your jaw, your cheekbone, your ear, whispering your name like a secret, like a prayer.

He knows exactly what you need. And he gives it without rushing, every motion measured, every touch speaking volumes of all the things he's never said aloud. The tension builds between your thighs, molten and electric, pooling low until you arch into him, teeth biting back a sound you can’t afford to make.

He kisses you then—deep, slow, anchoring—as your body tightens around the sensation of his hand, your legs trembling beneath the shared cover. When it finally breaks, the wave crashes over you quietly but entirely, your breath catching in his mouth as your fingers grip his shoulder like lifeline.

You collapse into him, body limp, heart roaring.

Ji-yong wraps you close, as if to protect you from gravity, from everything.

When he pulls back just enough to look at you—flushed, eyes half-lidded, chest still heaving—he grins, all mischief and tenderness.

“Congrats on joining Mile High Club.” he whispers.

You let out a soft, shaky laugh and kiss him again, slower this time, sweeter.

You move together like a confession.

And when you finally settle back into him, limbs entangled, cheek resting against his chest, your heartbeat echoing his—

You don’t even have to look to know he’s smiling.

You know.

The tour ends in a blur of tears, champagne, and confetti.

New York is the last stop, and it feels both monumental and surreal. The final show is electric, a cathartic release of everything built up over months of movement, exhaustion, and adrenaline. Ji-yong’s voice cracks with emotion during the last encore. You see it, even if no one else does.

The afterparty stretches into morning—flashes of laughter, photo ops, drunken toasts slurred in three different languages. People cry in the arms of near-strangers who’ve become family. Someone dances on a table. Someone else cries into a speaker case. Crew members embrace like war veterans, promising to keep in touch but knowing most won’t.

You find yourself in a quiet corner of the hotel suite with Ji-yong, both of you barefoot and a little drunk, watching the city flicker beneath the balcony. The glass door is open just a crack, letting in the hum of New York night.

He leans against the frame. You’re curled into the couch with a glass of something golden in your hand, his hoodie drowning your frame.

“What now?” you ask, voice raw from laughter and champagne, from everything.

Ji-yong doesn’t answer right away. He steps toward you instead, crouches in front of the couch, and rests his elbows on your knees. His hands find your hips like he needs to ground himself. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish when the sun comes up.

He studies you—really looks—and his thumb brushes the hollow beneath your lip, gentle and familiar.

“I don’t know,” he says, quiet. “I’ve never finished something and wanted to begin again this badly.”

You blink at him, heart skittering. Then, softly, you set your glass aside and lean down to kiss him—slow, with meaning. His fingers tighten slightly at your waist, and for a long moment, the room forgets the noise outside.

When you part, he stays close, resting his forehead against yours.

“Come with me,” he breathes.

You smile against his mouth. “Where?” you ask, but the question’s barely real.

“Anywhere,” he says. “Everywhere. Just… stay. Don’t let this be something we only remember when we hear a setlist.”

You draw in a long breath, studying the way his expression softens in the dim light. He’s not asking as G-Dragon the icon. He’s just Ji-yong now—tired and open and yours.

You nod. “Okay.”

His arms wrap around you like instinct, pulling you off the couch and into him, lifting you until you’re straddling his lap on the thick carpeted floor, legs tangled, noses brushing. His mouth finds yours again and again—like punctuation. Like promise.

Later, when the suite is dark and quiet and you’re curled up on the same hotel bed with his hand resting on your bare hip, you realize something.

When the tour disappears into memory—city by city collapsing behind you like folded maps—you don’t.

You stay.

Not because he asked.

Because he became the place you want to be.

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277

[urmum-lovesme]

More more moooooore of bunny and rafe noooowwwww 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩❤️❤️❤️

Currently working on the next chapter right now but since everyone's been saying Bunny should just hit Rafe with her car already... ?

Well just imagine Bunny leaving the country club one day after work, and she's just not in the mood. She had get on her hands and knees to clean up baby vomit even though the family weren't even one of her tables and no matter how many times she washed her hands she feels like she can still smell the pungent scent on her skin. To add to that, Sofia wasn't in today so she ate lunch all by herself in the staff locker rooms.

Her feet ache, her uniform feels like it’s clinging to her skin in all the wrong places, and now all she wants is to go home, take a shower hot enough to melt her skin off, and pass out. But of course, because the universe hates her, she hears his voice.

“Hey waitress!”

Her jaw clenches before she even looks up, her pace quickening as she weaves between the parked cars. She’s not in the mood for this. “Maybank!” Rafe calls again, his voice carrying easily over the pavement.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, Pogue!”

She exhales sharply through her nose. Ignore him. He’ll get bored.eventually. Well she hoped he will, but then there are footsteps, and she knows he’s coming closer still calling out her name, and before she can help it, she bites back at him.

“Yeah I can hear your fucking nagging voice.”

Rafe just grins, clearly amused, and she’s already regretting acknowledging him. She reaches her car, yanking the handle, but before she can climb in, Rafe’s hand slaps against the door, pushing it shut again and she just folds her arms staring at him unimpressed.

“Where you goin’?”

He asks, head tilting like he genuinely wants to know. But her best guess is he's wondering if she's going to the club- so he can follow after her and torment her there instead. Y/N lets out a slow breath through her nose before levelling him with a look.

“Home.”

She replies flatly, hand coming out to yank the door open harshly and he just takes a step back hands raising in mock defeat. Rafe just hums now, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk.

“Wow. Moody much?”

Y/N slides into her car and slams the door shut, hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles pale. She doesn’t even look at him as she starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between them. However, she can still hear him through the crack in her window.

“You going to the club?”

She keeps her gaze ahead, jaw clenching. There it is. She didn't have to be a genius to know he was going to ask her that, after all she hadn't been at the club for a few days and she remembers getting a message from Bambi about how her 'boy toy is getting impatient' She lets out a small sigh, assuming he'll just let it go but of course, Rafe Cameron doesn’t let stuff go.

“Hey.”

A loud thud shakes her car as his palm slaps down on the roof. Y/N jumps slightly, brows furrowing in agitation as she whips her head toward him. He leans down just enough to look at her through the window.

“Don’t ignore me when I’m speaking to you.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she shifts gears. Fuck this. Yet before she can even think about pulling out, Rafe is moving, stepping around the front of her car until he’s standing right in front of it. Her hands tighten around the wheel once more. Now he just stands there, arms crossed, looking at her with that smug little smirk like he’s got all the time in the world. Y/N stares back at him through the windshield in disbelief. Has he got nothing better to do? So now she rolls down her window, the mechanism groaning as she leans out slightly.

“Move"

Rafe doesn’t even flinch. He shifts his weight slightly, arms still crossed over his chest as he tilts his head at her, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nah,” he drawls.

“I think I’m pretty comfy here, actually.”

“Rafe, I’m not playing. Get out of my way, I swear to God—”

Her glare is sharp enough to cut glass and her palms are getting sore from how hard she's holding onto the wheel. He cuts her off, stepping forward just enough that his hands rest on the hood of her car. “Or what, huh?” He’s taunting her now, head tilted, gaze locked onto hers.

“You gonna run me over?”

Y/N’s nostrils flare. She’s this close to actually considering it. Instead, her lips press into a thin line before her hand slams down on the horn. The deafening sound screeches through the parking lot, a piercing, relentless noise that makes even her ears ring. A few birds scatter from a nearby tree. Some people turn their heads. Even Rafe's brows twitch up slightly in surprise.

But he doesn’t move.

Of course, he doesn’t fucking move.

Y/N inhales sharply through her nose, forcing herself to take a deep breath because she genuinely feels like she might pass out from sheer hatred. Her teeth grind against each other, eyes narrowing as she grips the gear shift and smoothly switches it into drive. She doesn’t hesitate. The car lurches forward and Rafe’s body instinctively jerks back a step, his brows snapping together. He spits, his hands bracing against the hood now.

“The fuck?!”

“Fucking move”

She grits out, her patience hanging on by a thread. But he’s as stubborn as ever, stance firm, eyes narrowed right back at her.

“No.”

Her fingers flex against the steering wheel, her heart hammering with irritation. Fine. He wants to be difficult? So be it. She jerks the car forward again, this time stopping just centimetres away from his knees. The movement is sharp, precise, and just reckless enough to have his eyes widening slightly.

“You’re fucking insane”

He exclaims, finally stepping out of the way, hands held up to the car as if she might actually floor it. Y/N lets out a humorless laugh.

“Oh yeah? You don’t say.”

She doesn’t even look at him as she drives right past him, her grip on the wheel now loosening. And as she passes, she lifts one hand, flicking her middle finger out of the open window directly at him. Behind her, Rafe’s voice rings out in an irritated yell,

“Psycho bitch!

She deffo would completely run him over if there were no witnesses 🤫

[miiyoshi]

slurred

iwaizumi x reader -- cw: drinking, bar environment, iwa is quite drunk wc: 695// an: feeling cutsey today! wrote another fluff :)

iwaizumi takes another sip out of his drink as the atmosphere around him is the most vibrant it’s been all night. in the cracks of the city there sits a bar, not too big and not too small. it’s more of a shared secret between you and the seijoh four, a common meet up location when all five schedules finally align once in a full moon.

the lights are dim enough that you have to turn your screen brightness lower than before you entered, a general buzz of sound due to the ongoing conversations, and a very sweet tight knit staff who know you and your friends by name at this point.

oikawa’s taking photos with makki in the shared booth you’re all situated in, mattsun at the bar chatting with the bartender as he prepares your group with a new round of drinks, and you sitting at the edge with iwaizumi to your left.

“you doing okay?” you turn to iwa as you see him swish his beer in the bottle with his right hand

“mhm” he hums back “feelin’ good, s’a good time. you?” you know he’s far gone when he slurs his words like this

“i’m good as well! think i’m done drinking for the night though, i have an early day tomorrow”

“s’okay!” iwa insists loudly, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. his voice little too loud that oikawa and makki turn to him for a moment and you miss a sly grin creeping up on oikawa’s face when he sees the scene in front of him

“let’s do one more round of drinks together,” iwazumi continues

“maybe another time iwa,” you return with a smile

you can see the gears turning in his head just by looking at his face deep in thought and you give iwaizumi a few moments to formulate his words.

he mumbles your name quiet enough so that the others don’t hear. “need to say something..need to tell you something but you can’t tell anyone, ok?” his face is so close to yours, you can’t help but hold your breath in anticipation. he’s close enough that you smell his refreshing cologne, you’re able to see the way his muscles stretch the sleeves of his shirt (he needs to size up), and the way his hair looks spikier than usual now that he’s been sweating throughout the evening.

“of course iwa, what is it?”

“but you cant tell, you promise? you have to promise”

“yes, i promise!” you giggle

“m’gonna make you mine one day.”

now the gears are turning in your head as you try to process his words

“i’m sorry? what was that?”

“shhh but don’t tell okay???” iwaizumi brings his index finger to your mouth, gesturing a shushing motion.

“i told oikawa this already, and i told him to not tell. he says i need to confess to you first, like obviously that dumbass, but yeah m’ gonna make you mine”

you try your best to hold back a laugh from oikawa’s name being brought up, “did oikawa encourage you to tell me this?” you tease him, but iwaizumi doesn’t quite pick up your tone in this state.

“exactly!” iwaizumi nods, once again dragging out his words, “how’d you know?”

of course he did. and you knew it had something to do with oikawa’s antics because that’s what he’s been telling you this entire time as well. oikawa was always one to tease you about your crush on iwaizumi, always encouraging you to just confess already! and it’s evident now that he’s been telling iwaizumi the exact same thing this entire time.

except for iwaizumi in his buzzed state, he actually does end up listening to his friend’s advice and exposes himself.

“lucky guess,” you tease iwa with a wink.

in the morning, you know iwaizumi will forget everything that he said to you, you know that the two of you will go back to friends who keep teetering the edge of friends and lovers, but what you don’t know is iwaizumi has already thought of a way to ask you out soon; sober, this time.