#can you all hear me. do you understand me.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-one —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.8k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: if anything regarding the abuse or suffering of children, or SA, triggers you do not read. I wanted to tell you so there are no surprises.

The world sharpens as your senses return, zeroing in on the empty, crumpled sheet where Blue had lain beside you. She’s gone. Your deadened limbs failed her. Guilt rises, choking your dry throat. When your hands can move, you grab the pillow, pressing it to your face. A few hot tears escape. It smells like her hair.

They took her. 

She's gone— 

A gentle voice speaks, and a hand settles on your shoulder. Only then do you notice your body trembling. You lift your face from the pillow, staring up at Nereida. Her lips move, but her words don’t reach you. Something stirs inside you, deep in your chest, clawing its way toward your mouth. When the door creaks open and Salome steps in with a tray of dinner, it finally bursts free—a roar of pure rage.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t tell me where she is.”

Salome startles, nearly dropping the tray as you fling yourself at the bars.

“I-I understand you’re upset, and I’m sorry we had to subdue you again, but it was only—”

“I don’t give a fuck! Answer me! Where is she?”

Her knuckles whiten around the tray, eyes darting away. “The child has... her own job, as we all do.”

Your lip curls. “Are you brain-dead under that stupid veil? Why take her? She’s a child! Why not one of us?” You lean closer, voice breaking. “If you want me pregnant so badly, fine! Do it now! Just bring her back—bring her back!”

Salome blinks, unnerved, her composure slipping.

“If you’ve killed her,” you hiss, heat flooding your face, “I swear to God, I’ll kill myself—”

“No!” she interjects, stepping forward, wide-eyed. “Don’t speak like that, I beg you. She... She’s alive. For now.” Her voice drops, reverent. “But Maman has plans for her. You must understand—Maman knows the Lord’s will. It is not our—" her throat bobs with a swallow,"Our place to question her decisions.”

“Alive for now ?” you snap. “What plans does that bitch have for her?”

Salome hesitates. For the first time, she looks uncertain.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. “I can’t... I mustn’t say. In time, you’ll understand.” She lowers the tray onto the floor and nudges it closer, staying out of your reach. “Please. You must eat. It’s only food this time, I promise. And the tea is for your bodies—to prepare you. Maman insists you drink it all.”

“You really think we’re stupid enough to eat or drink anything you give us?”

Her voice dips into a whisper. “I fear I... I must insist. If you refuse... I’ll have to tell Maman. She’s chosen to keep the males you came with because they are healthy and strong. But if she hears of your disobedience...” Her voice falters, and she tucks her hands into her sleeves. “There needn’t be any unnecessary deaths.”

Unnecessary deaths. 

The door clicks shut behind her when she leaves. You sink to your heels, spine against the bars, as Nereida reaches for the tray. Closing her eyes, a single tear escapes before she rubs her chest and exhales. With no choice, you both eat the braised beef and roasted carrots, though you bitterly imagine it tastes like the unseasoned squirrel meat you're used to.

The tea smells herbal and bitter. On your tongue, the taste makes you recoil.

"I think it's turmeric and parsley," Nereida says softly, taking another sip. "It's good for... regulating our cycles."

You stare into the mug, swirling the warm liquid inside. The urge to dump it on the floor flickers, but the risk of someone noticing holds you back. Instead, you take another sip, chasing it with food to mask the taste. Your thumb brushes the rim, finding a sharp chip in the ceramic. Pressing it deeper, the sting hums as a bead of blood wells up. You suck on it, brows furrowed, a half-formed plan taking shape. Without hesitation, you finish the tea and smash the mug on the floor, startling Nereida.

"Why did you—"

You gather the two biggest shards. "We have weapons now. Break yours when you're done."

"So what’s the plan? Stab her with it?" She shakes her head, frustration clear in her voice. "She’s dumb, but not dumb enough to get close enough for that—not after you just said you want to kill her."

"Well, it's something." Your lips tighten along with your hand on the sharp edges. "At least I’m trying to think of an idea instead of just—just praying my military husband comes to save me."

Her eyes flash with hurt. "I'm trying to think realistically instead of acting rash." She gestures to the broken pieces. "She just threatened to kill them if we do anything to upset this Maman person, and you go breaking the cup. You think they'll be happy about that?"

"I'll say it was an accident. I'm a clumsy female who just couldn't help myself."

"You're not thinking clearly, Twix. I know you're upset about Blue—"

“And you’re not?” you hiss. “We failed her. She’s just a kid, and we failed her. Who knows what they’re doing to her right now. We don’t have time to sit around waiting for Price. He’s not coming! Even if they don’t kill him now, you really think they won’t at some point? These people are insane.” Your voice drops lower. “They’re going to rape us, Nereida. Don’t you see that? They’ll wait for us to ovulate, then breed us like livestock to feed into their delusions. What happens when they find out you can’t have kids? You think they’ll keep you around? You think they’ll still ‘covet’ you?”

Moisture wells in her eyes, and she blinks. "I don't—I don't know. But what can we do? We can't reach her, and they won't open the cell without drugging us again. Even if we could get out, we can't handle everyone out there with just pieces of a broken mug." The tears spill quietly, and she stuffs her face in her hands. "You're right. I've always relied on him. I don’t know how to survive any other way."

Your face softens a little, and you breathe deeply to regain some composure. "I shouldn’t have said that. We’re both scared."

She whispers through the gaps in her shaking fingers. "I was never supposed to live like this."

You reach for her hands, holding them tight. "You were, or you wouldn’t still be here."

The words offer fragile solace despite how steady you force your voice to be.

The rest of the meal is in silence.

The helplessness in the room is suffocating, reminiscent of the week you spent alone in the woods, sleeping in trees and dreading the break of dawn. No—it’s worse than that. It feels more like when Ghost broke your bow and left you for dead, chewing on pine needles to soothe your empty stomach. Funny how this time there’s a delicious meal in front of you, and you’re swallowing it down only because you’re forced. You even have a real bed to slip into, a yielding pillow to rest your head on, yet the helplessness remains, unwavering.

"I'm sorry, Blue. I'm trying," you whisper, clutching the shards of ceramic and slipping them under the pillow.

You replay everything in your head: the lack of items in the room, the bolted cell door, and what Salome said— Maman has plans for her. The moon rises, and you remain awake, even as Nereida succumbs to fatigue. You force your eyes to keep scanning the dark surroundings, despite the lingering effects of the drugs threatening to pull you into sleep. There has to be something you're missing—maybe not in the room, but in Salome's words. What else did she say? You were so angry, you can hardly remember.

It feels like well past midnight when you hear a male voice outside the door and the shift of footsteps.

"Trois minutes, Hugo."

A low chuckle. "Trois minutes, c'est tout ce dont j'aurai besoin."

"N'oubliez pas de ne pas toucher. Et ne vous en vantez pas auprès des autres. La nouvelle se répandra et Maman ou Alexandre l'entendront."

The air shifts when the door parts. You launch up, inhaling sharply when a shadowy figure enters along with the faint scraping of boots. Salome? But broad shoulders give way to an unfamiliar man that steps into the sliver of moonlight, and panic sets in quickly.

Breathless, you rip the sheet from your body.

Nereida stirs. "Twix—?"

You rise to your bare feet, standing a meter from the bars as you take him in. A light smile plays at his lips, which might’ve seemed friendly if you weren't poorly covered by the barely-there slip dress. Unlike Salome, his face is exposed beneath the hood of his grey cloak. You make out a strong nose, ashen brows, and blonde hair. He looks to be in his thirties, much shorter than Ghost. He murmurs something in French beneath his breath that makes your hands clench, then reaches into a pocket in his cloak.

He retrieves three metal chains. 

In his upheld hand, the dog tags quietly collide.

Your breath hitches as his eyes flick to yours, and the moonlight catches on the engraved names.

"I'm a friend of your friends," he greets coyly in a hushed, strong accent.

"John," Nereida whispers, ripping herself up from the bed. 

The man nods, the subtle smirk tugging at the edges of his lips, but it fails to reach his eyes. They remain cold. "Yes. We've all grown rather acquainted."

"You've hurt them," you snap, grabbing Nereida's wrist and pulling her closer. "Cut the bullshit."

He wraps the chains tightly around his wrist before tucking them away, then looks at you in a way that leaves your mouth tasting like the dinner you just ate. "A female who bites. I will look forward to making you submit as a God-fearing woman should."

You clutch at the hem of the gown, terror whispering in the back of your mind from his words. Something feels wrong.

"Why are you here?" you ask measuredly. "I thought... it isn't the right time for us to... to get pregnant. I thought only women are allowed to see us right now."

"I've heard whispers of the new beautiful women God has gifted us," he says, his English choppy. "I wanted to see for myself. I've been... working hard to please the Lord, you see. Your friends are not so easily broken. Surely, in His eyes, I've earned just a glimpse."

Nereida tenses beside you. 

You rear a snarl at him. "Where are they?"

He holds up a finger. "Ah, ah, pretty face. You will have to let me see more if you would like to know. I have just three minutes with you. Two now that we've been wasting time."

Cold sweat coats your palms as his request sinks in, and you glance at Nereida. "I'll do it," you whisper. "You can just... just look away."

"No," his growl interjects. "Both of you, or nothing."

Even in the dark, her face pales. But when he pulls the chains back out and waves them around harshly, her hands dart to the hem of the dress and she peels it up without the chance to rethink it. You follow in stride, teeth gritted, as you scoot a step away from her and do the same, feeling the chilled air brush sickeningly against your bare skin. You've done this before, yet this time you are wholly naked under the stranger's gaze, and your hair is not long enough to conceal your breasts. 

When you hear him unbuckle his belt, you remove yourself from your body, mentally retreating to a far corner of the room to block out the horror.

"Tell us where they are," you press.

He chortles, breath catching when he grabs himself. "This land belonged to Maman's husband. It is a farm. New men we keep in the old slaughter house, by the barn, like the swine they are."

"And what about the girl," you interrupt urgently, "The young child who was with us. Why would Maman want to take her? Where else would she be keeping her?"

He grunts low. "I never said I'd answer about the girl, but if you touch yourself, I will consider it."

Your jaw clenches, teeth grinding. Nereida breaks, folding into herself and whispering, "I can't. I can't."

"I will," you whisper, your hand already sliding down your stomach, your eyes locking on his. "If I touch myself, will you tell me?"

His eyes narrow to where your hand dips unthinkingly between your thighs. You keep it there, doing what he wants, putting on the show that will make him talk. His shoulders ripple at the sight and audible groans bounce off the walls.

He clears his throat, voice rough. "I haven't heard nothing yet about the girl. But Maman says God’s punishing us... the land’s... sick. The wheat grows less and less. Only way to fix it—feed God's enforcers." 

"His enforcers?" you question.

"The démons."

"The Greys," you whisper, confusion flickering before clarity dawns.

A flash of the vermin-filled chapel plays through your mind—the bites in the corpse—and your hand jerks away from your thighs. The horror clicks into place, slow and suffocating, until all the color drains from your face. Blue... Is she an offering? An offering to God, just like the one you saw. They think the Greys are His enforcers. They will feed her to them. The thought claws its way through your head, and you feel a fresh wave of cold horror crash over you.

"When?" you croak. "When would Maman— feed them?"

"God's wrath... started on the sixth day," he murmurs absently, eyes rolling back. "That’s when we seek His forgiveness."

With a final grunt, his body jerks, and the spill lands on the floor. Bile rises in your throat, but you can’t even register it as you watch him stuff himself back in his pants and smear the mess with the sole of his boot, muttering something under his breath. You snatch the dress from the floor and stuff it over your head, legs wobbly. Faintly, you hear him laugh quietly.

"I can only pray I'm deemed worthy come the next coupling season. And when that time comes, I will be sure to choose you." 

---

B

Warm water kisses the back of her neck, and gentle fingers scrub soap through her hair. The woman bathing her hums softly, matching the rhythmic pulse in Blue's arm. As Blue closes her eyes, she tries to separate reality from nightmare, pressing two fingers into the clothed wound as if the pain will help her understand. She remembers the Greys coalesced in the old building, the chains used to restrain them, and the terror-blurred walk back to the small commune. After that, everything becomes hazy. She slept a little, she thinks. Was made to eat again. Then somehow, she ended up here, submerged in a wooden tub of lukewarm water, while a young woman quietly encourages her to dip her hair back to rinse.

"There. Time to dry off now."

There is the shuffling around as she fetches a towel. Blue crosses her arms over herself as she accepts it numbly, the air prickling her wet skin. Her feet land on cold tile floor as she dries off, the woman lingering beside the bathroom door with her head bowed. Blue feels like someone has strings coiled tightly around her limbs, puppeteering her. 

"Put this on for now." A light smile is offered as the thin gown is placed in her palms. "Maman will have a much nicer dress for you to wear tomorrow."

A puppet string is tugged, making her nod. "Can you... can you look away please?"

The woman turns and stares at the back of the door while Blue drops the towel and changes. 

Then she is taken back to the room she came from. The one she first woke up in, where the old woman's knitting needles still rest on the table. Morning light caresses the paintings on the walls, all oiled landscapes of land that looks similar to the one outside. The woman, whose name Blue thinks she mentioned to be Eloise, shuffles around the room, tidying things, before collecting the tray from breakfast. But when she glances back at Blue on her way out the door, her lips part in concern.

"You're bleeding."

Blue looks at the bandage on her arm, where red blood oozes in a trail, a bead dripping onto the floor from the tip of her finger. She frowns, confused, when Eloise sets the tray down to tend to the cut—as if they aren't the ones who caused it. As if the blood smearing her skin when she unwraps the cloth isn't the same blood they used to draw out the two Greys they brought back to the commune and locked up in a small shed. 

"I know you're frightened," the young woman whispers, her voice carrying an understanding that feels deeper than anything Salome ever said. Behind the veil, her eyes flick up to meet Blue's. "I can only pray God's mercy makes it quick." She dabs Blue's arm gently and rewraps it with a fresh strip of cloth.

"You mean they are going to kill me, right?" Blue whispers distantly. "With the Greys from yesterday?"

A glint passes through the woman's eyes, and she lifts her hands. "Yes," she says quietly, then leaves the room. 

Blue stands in the silence, eyes fixed on the drop of blood. She presses her heel into it, smearing it across the floor. Then, she moves. The fear she's carried since the old woman led her into the trees claws at her chest, but she swallows it. Trembling hands sweep over the room—checking the window, the locked door. The bed, the table, the paintings. Beneath the bed, only cobwebs.

A helpless croak escapes her lips as she collapses onto the bed, teeth clenched against the tears. Her father would never accept her giving up. Tomorrow they will kill her. She sits up, palms pressed to her forehead, knees drawn tight, dry sobs wracking her body. Through her tears, she notices the smear of blood from her heel left on the white linen. She flips over her foot and traces the dried blood with her finger, then digs her nail into the broken skin where the gravel road tore into her feet, seeking more pain—urging fresh blood to rise from the indent she leaves behind.

---

G

The last time Ghost was chained, he hadn’t known about the little girl who shared his blood—someone who truly needed him. Tommy was still alive then, of course, but he had his own family. If Ghost had succumbed to Roba’s torture, his brother and mother would have mourned briefly, held a small funeral, then moved on. The world would have forgotten his name. Part of him would have been pleased with that—but somehow, Simon Riley’s more stubborn side had survived.

That stubborn part of him refuses to close his eyes, not even for a second, because this time, he is fully aware of the girl who needs him.

With no windows to mark the time, Ghost can only gauge it by the man who beats him. The man alternates between striking him with a metal bar and taunting him with food and water, tossing them just out of reach so the smell can ignite pangs of hunger. There was once he showed up with an old woman, who clinically poked and prodded at Ghost's arms and abdomen, as if in approval. The longest absences of visitation likely indicate the man’s sleep, meaning two nights have passed since Ghost woke up here. His increasing difficulty in keeping his eyes open confirms it. 

Even through swollen eyelids, visions invade the darkness—four faces merging, their screams echoing, sharp and pleading. First, his mother. Then Sara. As they turn to ash, the two other faces remain, their screams fading into buttery laughter. Water splashes his cheek as they play in a creek, then their lips fall silent, and their faces sink below the surface. He reaches for them but can only stare as their eyes drain of life. Still, they remain accusatory. Disappointed. 

A slam of the door shatters the images.

"I think you will be pleased to hear the news I bring, Brit."

It must be morning. Ghost's gaze drops to the floor in persistent defiance, refusing to acknowledge him. His muscles loosen in preparation for the bar's routine assault, but a vein in his jowl ticks when he detects a new sound; the quiet slither of a whip against the concrete. 

Without warning, it recoils and lashes out with a sharp crack. The sting spreads through every nerve-ending, and he feels a gush of hot blood from the newly opened wound. A quiet, strained grunt slips through his teeth, and his chin dips to his sternum as pain robs him of the ability to hold it up. 

Casually, like a friend, the man hums, only his boots visible in Ghost's vision. "I saw them. They are well-kept, you should know, and they are indeed beautiful. A gift from God." The tail-end of the whip caresses Ghost's shoulders then slips to the floor soundlessly. "The child, though, I am disappointed to say she wasn't there."

Ghost stiffens.

His nostrils flare.

"Why wasn't she there?" he forces out.

"Ah. The child is yours, yes? The... fierce one was concerned for her as well." He bends, rubbing his jaw callously. "So concerned, in fact, that she was willing to show me more than I had even come for. Quite eager, too. Let me tell you what I told her—I know nothing of the plans for the girl. I can only guess, as you can, that they will not be pleasant."

"I will... kill... you," Ghost manages, his low voice thick with fury, each word a strained rasp through clenched teeth.

When his fingers twitch, weakly forming fists, the man pats his shoulder with a light laugh. "I will say, I am sorry you do not have a son, instead. Maman says daughters are the purest, most God-abiding of us all. With all due respect to her, this is where we disagree." He tilts Ghost's head back, locking eyes with him, his breath brushing against Ghost's face."They’re whores, all of them. Waiting to be bred. That's why the fierce one was dripping wet when she touched herself—"

In one swift motion, Ghost sinks his teeth into the first piece of flesh he can reach, tearing through skin. Blood fills his mouth, spilling between his teeth. The man jerks back, part of his cheek torn away, his eyes flashing with pure rage as he clutches the bleeding wound with his hand.

"You fucking, lowly swine." He spits out a mouthful of blood, then retracts the whip with a savage snarl. Another strike lands on Ghost's back—harder this time. Another follows. The blows come faster, until blood pools beneath his boots, and his eyes finally close no matter how much strength he tries to muster to keep them open. 

---

T

The sixth day.

If the Sabbath is the first day, then the sixth day would be Friday. The outbreak began on a Friday; God's wrath.

You trace the wrinkles in the sheet, trying to count back to the last day you can remember—back when Blue still announced the dates from the calendar Ghost kept track of. You recall it was the 12th of April, weeks ago. But what day of the week was it? Frustration bubbles up as you tear at the sheet, the harsh reality sinking in: you don’t even know how many days have passed since then.

Morning breaks in washed-out hues, accompanied by the low call of a nearby dove.

Growing content with the regular feedings, your belly hums in anticipation against your will.

"Ask her what day it is when she comes for breakfast," you tell Nereida. "We need to find out when Friday is, and you... you're better at talking."

Luckily, Salome either doesn’t notice that one of the mugs is missing or is willing to keep the fragile peace by not mentioning it. Again, she lowers the tray at an unreachable distance and slides it over. She lingers for a few minutes this time as you nurse a bowl of fresh fruit and sour yogurt, more mindful of how it tastes. But you don't suspect they have a need to drug you this morning—not with Blue already taken.

Nereida manages a bit of small talk, flashing a friendly smile you envy her for. It's enough to get a few pieces of information from Salome—mostly useless. She's about six months along, Maman suspects. There are two other pregnant women, and three infants already born over the years. A few have died during harsher winters, including this past one. The land is sick, that man mentioned. With a flicker of sadness, Salome adds that she had a miscarriage, and for a moment, you almost feel sorry for her.

But when Nereida asks about the day, Salome tenses, wariness creeping into her eyes. "Well, I forget the name in English, but it is the fifth day following the Lord's day."

"Saturday, you mean?" you speak up for the first time since she walked in. You try to hide your eagerness with a clearing of your throat. "I mean, Saturday is usually the Lord's day, right? That's how it was at my grandmother's church growing up."

Salome nods. "Yes, Saturday. That is the Sabbath."

Then tomorrow is the sixth day.

The weight threatens to crush you.

When she finally leaves, you fling the pillow off the bed and flip the mattress, screaming soundlessly into it.

"We have one fucking day, and I have no clue how to get out of here."

Survival hinges on not panicking. Panic makes you weak. But still, your fingers curl into your hair, tugging desperately, trying to silence the hysteria rising inside you. For a moment, a silent prayer takes hold in your mind, mimicking the ones you overheard from Nereida. You screw your eyes shut in a pathetic hope that maybe when you reopen them, Ghost will materialize with the key on the other side of the cell. When he doesn't, you grab the nearest shard from the mug you broke. Nereida tugs on your shoulder, trying to calm you down, but you furiously press it against your wrist.

It's the sight of blood, not the pain, that makes you freeze.

Suddenly, your panic smooths into a fresh memory.

"She panicked, didn't she?" you whisper, lifting the shard and gently thumbing the shallow cut you've created in its wake. "When I threatened to kill myself. Her eyes—they held fear. Fear for what?"

You turn to Nereida and swallow thickly.

"Fear of... fear of us dying," Nereida finishes slowly, a pinch in her forehead.

"Fear of what would happen to her if we died," you say. "She seemed... scared when she spoke of Maman. Of course she is. She's the one responsible for us right now. What would Maman do if she can't take care of the two new coveted women?"

You reach for the next largest piece and place it in Nereida's hand, tightly closing her fist over it. 

"It might not work," she whispers, eyes darting across your face.

"It's the only idea I've got."

Over the next few hours, you smooth over the details in whispered exchanges. These are the only cards you have to play: the value of your bodies here and the power Maman holds. Nereida is uneasy at first but eventually grows convinced. Speaking through the plan helps soothe your nerves, keeping the walls from fully closing in. You remember that Salome usually arrives before the sun sets to bring dinner. So, when the window casts amber shadows across the walls, you suck in a breath, dig the shard into your wrist, and watch as blood spills onto the white linen.

---

“Three minutes, Hugo.” “Three minutes is all I’ll need.” "Remember not to touch. And don't brag about it to others. Word will spread and Maman or Alexander will hear it."

[dani-isgroot]

You say I confuse you so much but I think you’re the only person who understands me the most even with all the misunderstanding I wonder how this can be. There’s something beautiful in that though someone who knows all of me still can’t fully understand eachother cause this goes both ways. Oh what I would do to be in your head and hear the real thoughts

— soulinkpoetry

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: they caught you in the shower🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kim Young Mi x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: you just wanted to take a shower calmly, but they came to your bathroom.

A/N: Thank you, my dears, for 200 readers of my channel!

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

The girl decided to take a shower and thought that you had come out of the bath a long time ago, but when she entered the room, she saw you naked and Hyun Ju immediately blushed and the heat spread all over her body.

- My God, I'm sorry..I..I didn't want to!! - she began to speak, covering her face with her hands, but still trying to peek.

- Oh, my love, it's okay, I have nothing to hide from you. - you told her, but she was still embarrassed and was about to leave, but you stopped her.

- Wait, why are you leaving?

- I wanted to take a shower..I thought you were already out..sorry, I didn't think you were still here, I'll go out now.

- No, no, no. - from your words she stopped abruptly, looking into your eyes, but her gaze involuntarily walked over your body.

- Join me, honey. I'll give you a massage.

She did it. You took a shower together, massaged each other and kissed a lot. This situation turned into a small date.

Thanos (Su Bong)

Your boyfriend always liked to break into the rooms without warning that you were even scared of it. This case was no exception.

He couldn't even think that you were taking a shower at that time, he just wanted to wash his hands, but when he opened the door, he saw you and both of you shouted. He's out of surprise, and you're out of fear.

- Su Bong!! Come out!!! - you shouted evilly, he just licked and examined you.

- Fuck, what fucking tits you have, I would have eaten them. Can I help you take a shower? - he said flirtingly, although you were embarrassed by his words, but the anger was higher.

- Come Out! Otherwise, I'll throw a can of shampoo in your head. - You didn't like it when people broke into your personal space, so even flirtation didn't save the guy.

He came out of the bath with a sad face, but you understood that now he would jerk off to your image and it slightly excited you.

Kim Young Mi

The girl never broke in without warning. It was in the morning, the girl was going to the shower and didn't hear that you were already in the shower. Therefore, when she saw you in the shower, she was scared and quickly closed the door. You didn't hear it, because the water stunned you.

But now she won't forget this case and your image that she saw.

Young Mi couldn't look at you calmly, as soon as you talked to her, she immediately blushed and you were worried.

- Sweetie, did something happen? Do you have a fever? Aren't you sick? - you asked at breakfast, just after this incident.

- No, no, no!!! Everything..everything..everything is fine!!! - she shouted embarrassedly, spreading her arms.

Unfortunately, you still didn't understand what suddenly happened to her, you could only guess.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy was also not a fan of breaking in without warning. This time he was wearing headphones, so he didn't hear that the bath was already occupied.

When he opened the door, he immediately froze, starting to drool on you, after a while you felt that there was some cold in the room from the open door, you looked and saw the guy, that you were even a little scared.

- Honey?? Are you okay?? - you asked excitedly, noticing how he was blushing, he immediately woke up from your words.

- I...sorry!! I was just wearing headphones and didn't hear! - he tried not to look at you, but he didn't succeed, his gaze was still looking at your body.

You also noticed that he had a bulge in the groin area and you awkwardly pointed it out to him. Because of this, Dae Ho was even more embarrassed.

- FORGIVE ME!!! - he shouted loudly, trying to hide everything with a T-shirt, but realizing that was not coming out, he quickly ran away to another room, leaving you alone.

Nam Gyu

Gyu really liked to embarrass you, so he guarded you when you went to take a shower and after a while he went in bathroom.

- Gyu, come out! Let me take a shower in peace! - you grumbled, looking at the darkened look of the guy, you understood what it was all about.

- No, I won't go out. I really want you and I don't intend to retreat. - he answered, undressing in front of you.

- Nam Gyu!! When we're in bed, then we'll do it!

- No, no, no. We'll do two things at once. Let's have sex and take a shower together. - he climbed into your shower, hugging you tightly, slightly laughing at the fact that you were embarrassed because of him.

- Stupid pervert!

- But you like it. - he purred right into your lips, after which he started kissing you.

🤍🤍🤍

[woso-dreamzzz]

Rival VI

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You return to London

"Princesse," Magda groans as you come jumping down the stairs of the hotel with Pernille," What did I tell you last night?"

You very pointedly ignore her as you go skipping over to Sydney, Georgia and Sam. You present yourself in front of them, chest sticking out as you smooth down the familiar red material and the cannon crest on your chest.

"You're kidding," Georgia says, eyes wide as she looks up at Magda and Pernille," You have to be kidding me. You're letting her wear this?"

"I'm not!" Magda says at the same time Pernille rolls her eyes.

"She's old enough now to choose her own clothes," Pernille says plainly," We're fostering independence."

"Yeah!" You say with a little giggle, sticking your tongue out at Georgia happily," I packed it just for today!"

"It shouldn't have been packed at all!" Magda insists," I told you that you weren't allowed to pack it."

"Auntie Frido says-"

"Oh, here we go."

"-That choosing clothes is an exercise of my right to express myself."

There's silence for a moment and all of the adults look at you with varying degrees of shock.

"Do..." Magda's mouth is wide open as she stares, blinking a few times as if she can't understand why you've just said that. "Do you know what you just said?"

You shake your head happily. "Auntie Frido told me to tell you though. She made me remember-ise it."

"Memorise."

"Huh?"

"She made you memorise it."

"Yeah, that too."

Magda sighs deeply, eyes closing briefly before opening again. "When we get home, I'm burning your Arsenal kits."

"Auntie Frido says that's illegal! And I can sue you for it!" You turn to Pernille primly, chest puffing out. "She made me memorise that too."

To save Magda's eyes, you end up wearing a zip up hoodie over your Arsenal jersey on the bus ride over to the pitch.

You happily sit with Pernille, who lets you watch one of your favourite Scooby-Doo episodes on her phone as you hum the theme song under your breath. Your little legs kick around happily as Straus says a bit more about the game plan to the team.

You're not listening at all as you watch Daphne use her super cool martial arts skills to punch one of the monsters in your show.

"Alright, you," Pernille says softly as she takes her phone back," We're here."

"We are?"

Your head pops up as you look out the window, fingers automatically going to unzip your hoodie so you can show your Arsenal pride but Magda's there quickly.

Her hands make sure your zip is done all the way up and you frown.

"But Morsa-"

"No," Magda says firmly, lifting you up into her arms before you complain anymore.

You huff a little but don't fight her.

Magda carries you all the way into the changing room and still doesn't let you take your hoodie off. Even Pernille doesn't relent and you sit stubbornly in her cubby with your arms crossed over your chest.

"What's that pout for?" Tuva asks with a laugh, tickling under your chin," You not going to be our good luck charm?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"My good luck is going to Arsenal!"

Before anyone can stop you, you stand up and rip off your hoodie to show your Arsenal shirt.

"North London forever!"

"Oh no," Pernille groans as Magda's eye twitches.

"Whatever the weather!"

Georgia bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

"These streets are our- Morsa!"

Magda plucks you from Pernille's cubby, muttering under her breath too quiet for you to hear as the door to the locker room is knocked on.

Katie and Caitlin poke their heads around the door.

"Alright, Eriksson?" Katie asks with a grin," We heard our Big Boss was in the building. Do you mind if we steal her?"

"Actually-"

"Of course you can." Pernille takes you from Magda's arms without fuss, putting you back onto the floor so you can run over to the two Arsenal girls by the door. "Princesse, remember, be nice, helpful and-"

"Don't cause trouble," You finish off," I know!" You take Caitlin's hand. "Let's go see Auntie Stina and Auntie Lina!"

"The warm ups are just starting," Caitlin tells you," Have you got your gloves? Because I'm sure the keepers would love to warm up with their Big Boss."

[kiefbowl]

wait ok genuinely kind of interested in your opinion on porn now......... if only because those big 3 you mentioned are always the reasons i see people throwing out so id love to hear a deeper take than that

I'm genuinely surprised anyone could follow me and not know my stance on porn, but that's okay. simplified and in no particular order and in no means exhaustive:

porn creates perverse incentives

porn normalizes the purchase of women as sexual objects for men to use

porn is often called "rape on tape" by feminists, which I mostly agree with in the sense that if a woman would otherwise not have had sex except that she is being paid, then she is not consenting. you cannot purchase consent, the consent is not meaningful then.

additionally, you can not verify if you are watching people be raped in any other way. porn sites are filled with stolen videos, coerced videos, actual minors, aggressive rape that was filmed with or without the victim's knowledge, and other videos of this nature. there is no way to verify this at all from videos that are somehow not these things. things like "amateur" are often just marketing by the porn company or pimp, or they're stolen videos.

porn creates a social script for sex. this social script is least of all - boring and predictable. it also reinforces the long standing conservative gender understanding (see 2). porn also reinforces ideas of homophobia and racism under the guise of "taboo." porn is literally so conservative, but because it's considered "shocking" to "puritans" (religious men watch porn all the time), people talk like it's this liberal fantasy. porn is constantly reestablishing the status quo in the most perverse ways.

it's been demonstrated that people who are porn addicts very quickly escalate to more violent porn, and that this plays out in their sex lives with their (often vulnerable) sex partners.

the violence that happens in porn is real. the idea that it's a "fantasy" is marketing by porn website and pimps. if a man slaps a woman across the face, that really happened. why does it matter if she says "yes" to it - that's her "job" so how can she say no? (see 3 and also 4).

there is so much evidence and testimony by porn stars of the absolutely awful and terrifying conditions in which they work, even in the quote unquote "real" industry. drugs, alcohol, violence, coercion, exposure to STIs, homelessness, pimping, prostitution, mental illness, suicide, lack of benefits. It's bananas that anyone would be surprised by this when it's pointed out, we're talking about an industry that films sex on video. The majority of people in the sex industry want out. It ruins their lives, and once in it's very hard to leave and lead a normal life. The idea that the industry needs regulation to be "fixed" is bizarre and just seems like pimp and porn industry marketing to get people to look the other way.

Poverty creates porn. Social welfare for the poorest of our women would prevent them from entering the industry in the first place. Women go into porn out of need, not desire. social media pushes that porn stars loooove their jobs is 1. porn site and pimp propaganda 2. literally marketing because men want to believe this.

I am not religious, I don't believe in god. I love sex and masturbation. it's the most natural thing in the world and people don't actually need to "learn" how to do it - it's innate within us. Porn is just one more way to humiliate women in a misogynist society that requires women to be fearful of sex and rape constantly, and uneducated in their own sexual desires and boundaries.

[markwateneymemorialcrater]

One thing that I think the many “leftist” movements struggle with is they really offer nothing for these “young straight guys” like yes, improved social acceptance and tolerance should in the long run benefit everyone. But that isn’t the message that many hear from the left. What they hear is that your worth is based on how many minority groups you can be apart of. That you need to be part of an “oppressed” group to be valid. And if you are a dreaded “cis white male” your opinions are worthless and even dangerous. If that is the sales pitch you get, why on earth would a young man join that ideology?

This doesn’t mean the left should cater to the “cis white man”. But the least we can do is not vilify them.

The “right” movements at least will celebrate being a man and make life seem fun for you without pushing a guilt trip. They promise that your life is in your own hands and total freedom. Sure you will be taught that it’s ok to make a low wage and live in a shithole of a home because at least it’s yours and you’re not having to give up your hard earned money to support some lazy lowlife. And honestly. That logic makes sense. No one likes a parasite.

Especially if you do want to be edgy. Conservative edgy is way more fun for a young guy than liberal/socialist edgy.

And if you look at how most male friend groups interact with eachother, we are not “polite” or nice to eachother. The mutual bullying is partly how we show affection. We would all take a bullet for eachother, but you bet your ass we are calling eachother fat fucks for eating McDonald’s twice in a week. But you try that in many lefty groups. Any edgy joke risks getting taken seriously and offends people. I’ve seen this happen in a generally left leaning group chat I was in. It made me leave. Sometimes you got to learn to laugh at the insults and trust that your friends don’t secretly hate you. If a guy really did hate you. He would just stop interacting with you usually.

My observations have also shown that quite frankly, both the left and right have equally fucking stupid people in them. And they tend to be the loudest.

Too often people get too specific and granular with their fights. Which is great for getting a small group of passionate people behind it. But it becomes too niche for general acceptance/ understanding. Look at say trans rights. What the issue is at its core is about the right of an individual to have self expression of their body. That is an argument that you could find support for on both ends of the political spectrum. But because it’s marketed as “men should be able to be women if they want” it’s totally un-relatable for most cis-men and sounds outright crazy. At the end of the day, most people all want the same things.

I increasingly think publications like Cracked and Mad Magazine served a load bearing cultural purpose keeping young straight guys from developing extreme reactionary opinions.

[babyleostuff]

⸻ first date with performance unit

[ 🍵 ] how they would spoil their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would plan to make them feel special

jun

place: cat/dog cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d have your coffee/tea order + favourite baked goods memorised (to the point where if they didn’t have what you’d usually order, jun would know what you’d take instead)

what they would be like taking you out: jun would be the epitome of sweet and precious, because mans wouldn't be able to stop smiling. seriously, the grin he'd have on his face would be low-key concerning because how can someone smile for that long, but at the same time, he'd make you feel so at peace and comfy with his gentle persona

“they are so us,” jun giggled and pointed at two cats trying to claw each other's eyes out. 

you shook your head and took a sip from your cup. if it was anyone else you’d start wondering if they even liked you, because comparing you to a rather aggressive cat was not on your top 10 compliments list, nor was it something you’d like to hear on a first date.  

but the boy in front of you was far from “anyone else”.

“you’re feisty,” jun pointed at the black cat, “just like her.” 

before you could think through what you were about to say next, you blurted out, “well, at least now we know who’ll wear the pants in our relationship.” 

it was safe to say that jun looked like an angry tomato for the rest of the date.

hoshi

place: laser tag

what they would do to make you feel special:  if you’d end up on opposite teams, soonyoung would do anything to let your team win (he’d be so proud in thinking he was being sooo sneaky about it) because seeing you happy is so much better than winning (you’re the only exception though, anyone else - the fight is on)

what they would be like taking you out:  this man is too unpredictable to know for sure how he’d act, but generally speaking it could go either two ways: 1 - soonyoung would be filled with so much energy, beaming with happiness and just so much affection for you that you’d have a hard time knowing what he’d even be on about (lovingly), 2 - he’d turn into a stressed little guy that just wouldn’t be able to believe that he’s on a date with you??? you gorgeous creature said yes to go out with him??? no one pinch him, because if it’s still a dream he doesn’t want to wake up. this version of him would be quite quiet, but in a soonyoung way quiet

“stop!” you laughed, quickly looking back to see if hoshi was still running after you. 

and running he was. more like charging at you at full speed, to be honest, with a fake gun in his hand and devilish grin on his face. 

“you’re not going to get away this time!” he yelled back, getting closer to you with each step. and there was no way you’d outrun him, na-ah. 

“it’s not how you play this game,” you said and bursted out in a fit of laughter, as soonyoung wrapped his strong arms around your frame, engulfing you in a sweaty hug. 

“i don’t care,” he giggled, pulling you closer. “the game is over for me anyway, now that i’ve got you”. 

mingaho

place: painting class

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d be the best listener. i know that is the bare minimum, but at the same time the bare minimum is in hell so… yeah. you’ll never meet a better listener than hao, who could sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair, covered in paint and listen to you for ages

what they would be like taking you out: such a gentleman, to the point where you start wondering if it’s not a dream. gentle, funny, kind, understanding, charming - you could go on for forever trying to describe minghao. all of that said, though, hao would honestly be so so nervous, because come one… so many things could go wrong… and he seriously liked you. like really really liked you.

“how the hell did you manage to get your paints to look like that?” you pointed at hao’s palette that was full of pretty colours, unlike yours. unfortunately. 

“hm?” he mumbled and looked over at your station. you could see the smile forming on his gorgeous face, but since he was the textbook definition of a green flag, whatever you want to call it, he quickly composed himself and pointed at the paints in front of him. “just mix this and this.” 

“uh, yeah,” you huffed, “i did the same and mine looks like shit. literally.” 

this time he couldn’t help but laugh. “let me help, yeah?”

dino

place: a board game cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d try his best to play all of your favorite board games, because one thing about chan - he sucks at understanding game rules (seriously, all of his brain cells would be sweating to understand the game). so it’d truly be heartwarming how this precious boy would try so hard to understand what would be going in front of him. 

what they would be like taking you out: stressed. and. nervous. as. fuck. he just doesn’t want to mess it up, okay? chan knows he’s handsome and pretty and funny and charming, BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER!!! all of his rational thinking flies out of the window whenever he’s around you, and “what were you saying, i was too busy staring at your beautiful eyes”. shakes like a leaf the whole time. 

you could clearly see a question mark forming above chan’s head, as you tried explaining the rules for the third time. usually, you’d be quite annoyed at the person for still not getting what you were saying, but he looked so adorable, with his big puppy eyes and all, that you had to stop yourself from cooing out loud. 

“i’m sorry,” chan said, looking down. “i’m just not the best at understanding games.” 

you leaned over the table and put your hand over his. his head whipped up so quickly you wondered whether he didn’t pull a muscle doing that. 

“it’s okay, channie,” you smiled at him. “we can play something else, y’know?” 

he shook his head, and scooted his chair to sit closer to you. “no, no. let’s try again. i promise i’ll get it this time”.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Chapter 11

Summary: You try to fix your relationship with Wanda.

Yelena struggles to open her eyes. The constant beeping of the alarm annoys her, and she protests.

“Five more minutes” she pleads, reaching out to snooze it.

“Yelena. It’s me” a soft voice says, and she can feel fingers caressing her forehead. “It’s Mama”

“Mama, I don’t wanna go to school” Yelena says, earning a chuckle from Melina.

“You’re in the hospital, sweet girl” her mother says. “You almost drowned”

It all comes back to her in a rush. The feeling of sinking, the freezing water paralyzing her. Your voice, asking her to stay awake.

“Y/N. Is she ok? Where is she?” she tries to stand up, but her mother stops her. Natasha walks in that moment, locking eyes with her sister. “Something happened to Y/N”

“No. She’s ok” Natasha shakes her head.

“Then why do you look so worried? Don’t lie to me” Yelena asks, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m not lying, sestra. You just scared me, that’s all” Natasha promises, leaning her forehead against her sister’s.

She tries to pretend everything’s ok.

—

Wanda is in your arms, reassuring you. It’s overwhelming, to feel her, to hear her.

Knowing what you just did.

And it all comes crashing down.

The stress of the past months, the lack of sleep, your resentment towards your mother and your last encounter. A sob breaks out and you can’t stop crying, because you fucked up.

Wanda’s gonna hate you, she’s going to leave you.

You wish you had drowned, because it’s better to die than to hurt the only person you’ve truly ever loved.

“Wanda, I…” your voice shakes. Your girlfriend looks at you, alarmed. She’s never seen you this shaken.

“Baby, look at me. You’re safe. I’m here” she tries to calm you down, but your sobs intensify.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy appears behind you, trying to check for any internal injuries. “Hey, Y/N. You’re hyperventilating. You know what you need to do. Breathe. In and out. Ok. Just like I’m doing”

You allow Darcy’s voice to guide you, while Wanda stays by your side.

“I…” you stutter.

“I think we should keep her in observation for a bit. Maybe she’s in shock or had a concussion. Did you hit your head?” Darcy asks. “Ok, come with me. Wanda, we will be right back”

“Ok. Hey. It’s ok” she says against your lips. “I’m not leaving”

Wanda’s gonna leave when she finds out. And you won’t blame her. But as your thoughts spiral, and you begin to hyperventilate again, Darcy drags you to an exam room.

“What happened? Talk to me, Y/N”

“I should have died out there. She’s gonna leave me, Darcy” you cry out.

“Damn it, ok, breathe. Do you want me to give you… something? Just to calm you down”

“Ok. And page Carol. I need to talk to her”

“Yeah. Ok”

Carol joins you a couple of minutes later.

“Hey” she looks between you and Darcy, not knowing how much she can say.

“She asked me to page you. What the hell happened? She’s having a nervous breakdown” Darcy hisses. Add her to the list of people who have never seen you lose your shit.

“Just tell her” you mutter, looking away. You need someone to say it out loud, so it’s real. And you can understand how much you fucked up.

“I walked in on Natasha and Y/N kissing just now” Carol says, looking at you with pity in her eyes.

“What the hell were you…?” Darcy’s first instinct is to yell at you, but as she sees you shutting your eyes, she calms down. “Ok, just tell me what happened”

“I don’t know. I walked in to find some gauze for this scratch on my arm and then she was there and she kissed me and I didn’t pull away. Not at first”

“So she kissed you?” Darcy clarifies. “You didn’t go after Natasha?”

“No, I wasn’t… I thought she’d be worried about Yelena and when she came in, I assumed something bad had happened” you stumbled with your words. It’s all a blur.

“You weren’t kissing when I walked in. She had her hands in your neck but you were leaning back” Carol says.

“I don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t matter. Wanda won’t care. I fucked up, it’s over”

“I think it’s important to… make the distinction. That she went after you. If you tell Wand at all” Carol adds.

You sigh, looking at your best friend. The one person who has been a constant in your life, who knows how much you struggle. The only one who understands that Wanda is your world. And how devastated you’ll be if when you lose her.

“I think you should tell her” Darcy says. “I’m sorry, I do. I know you’re honest and you’d never be able to live with yourself if you don’t tell her”

Not only that, but knowing what you know about Wanda and how she got cheated in the past. You can’t lie to her.

Even if it means losing her.

“I’ll do whatever you want” Carol says, squeezing your hand. “I won’t ever judge you, Y/N. If you decide to keep it a secret, I’ll take it to my grave. I swear”

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, wiping the tears that won’t stop. “I need to get home and calm down. She deserves to hear it when I’m sane and won’t make up a stupid excuse hoping she’ll forgive me”

“I really think you can get past this” Carol says before leaving the room.

“I hope so too” you try to smile.

But the truth is you’re not very optimistic.

—

The next day, you refuse to leave the room. You’re not sure if you catched a cold with the freezing water or it’s your body’s response to the stress of what happened, but you run a fever that knocks you down.

At one point, you dream about the encounter with your mother. But it’s not her outside the hospital. It’s Wanda, and she’s hitting you as she finds out you’re a liar.

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, running to the bathroom to throw up. As you look in the mirror, you understand one thing.

You’re not gonna be able to keep this up any longer. You have to tell Wanda.

She’s nowhere to be found, probably because it’s a school day and someone has to drive the kids. While you wait for her to return, you run a bath and try to clear your head.

How are you even starting?

When you hear Wanda come back, your stomach drops, but you push through, sitting in bed.

“There you are. How are you feeling, my love?” she greets with a smile.

“I’m ok, I guess” you manage to say, looking anywhere but her.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me” Wanda says, knowing something’s changed. Truthfully, she’s expecting to hear that this life and death experience made you realize you want something different in your life.

Someone else.

“I… Wanda. I’m so sorry” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t want it to happen”

“What? What are you talking about?”

With a deep breath, you finally say the words that will change your relationship forever.

“Natasha kissed me. We kissed. I mean, I didn’t look for her, she just walked in the room and then she was kissing me, but that doesn’t really make a difference, right?”

Wanda stays silent for a second, and then turns to leave the room.

“I’m going to kill her”

“Wanda” you catch up to her, stopping her at the top of the stairs. “Wait, please”

“No! Who does she think she is? Everything was fine between us, and then she comes and you’re pulling back. And now she thinks she can kiss you and I won’t fight back? Seems like someone should put her in her place”

“I don’t care about her” you plead, taking Wanda’s hand.

“You’re mine”

“Of course I am” you agree, trying to pull Wanda into a hug. She relents, but you can tell she’s tense and struggling with your closeness. “Wanda, I love you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen, I’ll do anything to make it right, just please, please…”

“Did you kiss her back?” Wanda pushes you away suddenly.

“I… don’t know. It happened so fast. I didn’t even think. I pulled away”

“But before that, did you kiss her back?” Wanda insists, looking at you expectantly.

“Wanda, I don’t know. She just came out of nowhere and I was trying to recover from almost drowning”

“I think… I think you should leave” she interrupts you. “You told me you were different, that you’d never lie to me”

“I didn’t…”

“Please, leave” she raises her hand to stop you. “I just can’t look at you right now”

Looking down, you nod. As you walk back to pack a bag with clothes and other stuff, Wanda stays rooted to her spot in the hallway.

You want to say something, but words are not enough to convey everything you feel. “Sorry” is an understatement. “I love you”? It feels like you lost the right to say that.

So, you walk out of the house, and drive to a hotel, wondering if it’s really that easy to lose your entire world.

—

The next days are hell.

You really wish you’d drown that day on the river.

There’s a hotel close to the hospital, and you stay there, wallowing in self pity and regret. You ignore everyone’s text and calls, because you’ll only answer one person.

She never reaches out.

“Hey, bud” Darcy greets when you get to work after two days. “I take it it didn’t go well”

“Nope” is all you say, not wanting to talk about it at all. You need work, distractions. Or a bus than runs you over. Whichever is fine.

“I’m here if you want to talk” is all she says, knowing you’d rather not.

“Thanks”

Kate greets you, a little too cheerful for your liking. Maybe it’s because she has the ER for herself. Speaking of which, you don’t even know if Yelena was discharged.

“Is Belova ok?” you say, looking at all the reports you need to sign.

“Yes, she left yesterday. And, uh… Doctor Romanoff was asking for you” Kate hesitates.

“I’m not speaking to Romanoff under any circumstances. If she asks again, tell her I said she can go to hell” you answer with a harsh tone.

“Maybe I could say you’re very busy?”

“Whatever keeps her away from me” you agree, walking to the entrance as an ambulance parks outside.

It’s a hectic day and you appreciate it. You also lose track of how many times you go out to smoke. At some point, you give up waiting for Wanda to call you.

Actually, now you don’t want her to reach out at all. You’re not ready to hear her say it’s over, so at least now you can pretend there’s a chance you’ll get past this.

“Did you sleep at all?” Carol says when she sees you next morning.

“For a half hour, maybe”

“Listen, you need to…”

But whatever well intended advice she’s about to give is interrupted by Fury.

“Doctor Romanoff would like a word”

“I’m busy”

“Not for her, you’re not” he cuts you off, practically pushing you in the direction of a conference room.

This is a new low, using Fury to talk to you.

“Doctor Romanoff, I’m so sorry, as you can imagine our Head of Trauma is busy” Fury says, moving so you can step forward. “Meet Doctor Y/L Y/L/N”

Wait, what?

A brunette approaches you with a wide smile. She has the same nose as Natasha, and even if her eyes are more hazel than green, you definitely see the resemblance in the determined stare.

“I can’t thank you enough for saving my daughter’s life”

Right. That Doctor Romanoff.

“Just doing my job” you say, hoping Natasha won’t join you.

“She’s eager to get back to work. Yelena said you’re a fantastic teacher” the woman says, smiling.

“Well, she definitely has a lot to learn” you say, which makes both people in the room turn to you.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury warns. But you don’t give a fuck. You want them gone from the hospital and the city and your life.

“Yelena’s good, but she could be better. That reckless behavior almost got me killed. She also needs to move faster and be more precise. Her work can be sloppy”

“Thank you, Doctor Y/L/N. That would be all” Fury cuts you off.

You nod, avoiding Melina’s stare as you leave the room.

Unfortunately for you, one of her daughters is waiting outside.

“Can we talk?” Natasha says. You ignore her, walking back to the ER. “What? Seriously?”

She grabs your wrist and you finally turn around.

“Don’t. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Romanoff”

“What? Did your girlfriend forbid you to talk to me?”

“You don’t think about her or talk about her or anything related to Wanda. Stay away from me” you say, opening the door. Of course she follows you before you can lock yourself in, blocking the only way out.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking coward, Y/N” she accuses you.

“Excuse me?”

“You kissed me back”

“I did not!” you kick the chair next to you, groaning. “I had just seen my abusive mother and almost drowned saving your sister. Do you really think I had the mental capacity to act rationally? I was still on fight or flight, Natasha”

“Lie to yourself all you want, but you’re not gonna lie to me. I know the way you look at me”

“Which is?”

“Like you’re picturing me naked”

You scoff at that, looking away.

“I don’t hear you denying it” she challenges, stepping closer.

“Don’t”

“If you were really sure about your feelings, you’d tell me to go to hell and move on. You wouldn’t be looking around the room, desperate to find a way out” Natasha says, moving closer and closer, until you’re inches apart. “Because if we stay this close, you know damn well that we’re gonna end up fucking each other”

“Please, stop” you say, trying to push past her. Natasha takes your wrists, and pulls you closer, letting you decide.

And you pull away. You do.

“Don’t mistake attraction with devotion. Wanda is all I want and need. I’m not playing games. Stay away from me”

You try to look composed as you leave the room, but in your mind, you know you hesitated.

A fraction of a second, but it was hesitation nonetheless.

—

Carol finds you outside the hospital, smoking as usual.

“Though shift?”

“You could say that”

You stare at her as she takes the cigarrette from your hands.

“Don’t tell Maria” she warns you and you laugh.

“Nu-uh, you need to be on your best behavior. One of us has to have a happy ending”

“Did you tell her?” Carol asks.

“Yeah. She kicked me out. Which is a very nice reaction. If I were her, I would have run me over repeatedly with her car” you sigh, lighting another one. “And now Natasha’s on my ass, saying I can’t deny that I have feelings for her too, when all I’ve done is be friendly”

“Ok, don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N, but it was obvious you two were flirting” Carol says. You stay quiet, and since you don’t argue, the woman takes it a sign to continue. “Look, when Maria came back… I hesitated too. I never told you this, but I wasn’t just trying to move on from her. I liked you, your committment to work. How kind you are. Honestly, with a little more time I could have seen myself in a different situation”

“But?”

“But Maria came back and I made a choice. What I’m saying is… I don’t think it’s unnatural for people to be attracted to others, even if you’re in a relationship. We seek connection, and surgeons have a fucked up schedule and life that only other doctors understand. Of course you felt something”

“Natasha is… a challenge. She’s funny and stubborn and quick witted. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything except work. It’s like an adventure” you finally admit out loud, knowing Carol understands. “But Wanda is my family. And I can’t lose that”

“There you go. I think admitting that you feel attraction is how you move past this. The important thing is if you act on it” Carol insists.

You think back to the encounter you had with Natasha just now.

You pulled back.

This time, she didn’t just kiss you. She gave you a choice. And you made the decision to step away.

That’s gotta count for something. Right?

“Thanks, Carol” you sigh, feeling better for the first time in days. To your surprise, Darcy comes next.

“Is it my turn now? I’m freezing, Danvers” she complains.

“Turn for what?”

“Well, this is an intervention” Carol explains, leaving the spot next to you so Darcy can sit.

“An intervention? Next to the trash? Really?” you say, looking around.

“You practically live here with all the smoking. Which, by the way, stops now” Darcy says, throwing away the pack you’re holding. “Now, as you know I briefly considered a career in Psychiatry. So I’m going to give you my analysis”

“Ugh, I hate this” you mutter. In spite of everything you’ve been through, you’ve never once considered going to therapy.

You have a job and a life. You’re obviously fine.

“Ready? I’m about to tell you some harsh truths. You can cry if you want to” Darcy says, settling. “You don’t believe you deserve good things. Of course, your mother showing up out of nowhere didn’t help. You’re self sabotaging because you think you don’t deserve Wanda. It’s a self fulfilled propechy. And it’s frankly stupid. You don’t need to fight your demons on this one. Just tell Romanoff to piss off and go get your girl. Speak up, tell her how you feel. This passive shit of wallowing in self pity is beneath you”

“Wow, anything else?” you say, trying not to be offended.

“Yes” Darcy says, looking at you. “You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy. Don’t cry” she snaps when tears roll down your cheeks.

“You just told me I could cry!” you complain, laughing at her.

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind. Now come on” Darcy nudges your side. “I’m freezing”

—

It’s uncharacteriscally quiet lately. No one says anything, but Pietro can feel it.

Your absence is the most obvious sign that something’s wrong.

Wanda can lie to the kids and tell them you’re working day shifts, but Pietro is not easily fooled. He never hears you come in, or leave.

You haven’t been home in a week.

“What’s going on?” he finally asks when Wanda’s doing the dishes, the twins fast asleep.

“What do you mean?” she plays dumb, without turning to look at her brother.

“She’s not working. Did you fight?”

“Leave it” Wanda says.

“No. You’re obviously not fine and I can imagine how Y/N’s doing”

“Y/N is very busy fucking that Russian” Wanda spits out, finally turning to look at her brother.

“You mean she cheated on you?”

“That woman… kissed her. And now, I kicked her out and heaven knows what she must be thinking. It’s perfect for Natasha, isn’t it? She didn’t have to try that hard to break us apart”

“Ok, so it was a kiss? Or more? I think you need to start over” Pietro asks, sitting at the kitchen counter and leaving his crutches against the wall.

So, Wanda tells him everything. How you began to spend more time at the hospital, and she got jealous and pushed you away as response. How her insecurities and your attitude made things harder and put you through a rough patch.

“But… she told you right after it happened?” Pietro tries to understand the timeline. “And it was just a kiss?”

“It’s not about the kiss. It’s about swearing nothing was going on, making me feel like I was acting crazy and…”

“How do you know she didn’t think the same thing?” his brother says, which makes her stop talking. Wanda shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe she thought they were friends. The thing is, she was honest, Wanda”

“Yeah, but…”

“You can’t let your past influence your future. I know he hurt you and it’s not easy to trust people. But not everything’s black and white. Do you honestly think Y/N was trying to hurt you?”

“Of course not” she says, shaking her head. “I just don’t know how I will get over this…”

“So it’s better to pretend nothing’s wrong?”

Pietro couldn’t say it without hurting his sister, but she was always so afraid of taking risks. And now she took the easy way out.

“Look, avoiding the issue won’t solve anything. If you want to fix it, do it. If you really can’t get past what happened, you at least need some closure” he says, his tone becoming softer as Wanda’s eyes well up with tears.

“I just hate this. I wish we could just go back to how everything was” Wanda sobs, covering her mouth. “And I miss her so much”

“Maybe you should tell her that” Pietro struggles to stand up, and goes to hug his sister. “It will be ok, sestra”

—

It’s kind of shitty to be happy over having a lot of injured people on your shift. But you’re so exhausted you’re positive you’ll pass out the minute you get home.

Well, the hotel.

That minor correction stings.

Your room’s a mess, but you’ll clean it up after you get some rest.

There’s a knock on the door right as you plop down in bed and you sigh.

“I don’t need any room cleaning, thank you!”

“It’s Wanda”

You get whiplash at those words, running to open the door.

“Hi” you say, trying to not sound too anxious. There’s a pang of guilt as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah” you step aside. “Uh, sorry about the mess. Work’s been crazy”

“So listen… I think we need to talk” she says, looking back at you.

“Oh”

So she’s here to break up with you. You stay quiet, urging her to continue.

“I… I’m not happy with this situation. Honestly, I really wished you had set boundaries with that woman from the start. I don’t know if you were just being friendly or a part of you was attracted to her at all”

“Wanda, I…”

“I don’t think I’m interested in knowing the answer to that. But I do know that we’re not gonna fix this by staying apart” she says, crossing her arms.

“Oh, so you wanna fix… I thought you were here to break up with me” you sigh, your shoulders relaxing at the realization that she’s giving you another chance.

“I have some conditions”

“Very reasonable. And my answer is yes to everything” you hurry to say, scared that she’ll change her mind.

“You sure you don’t wanna hear them? What if one of them is doing the laundry for a month?” she teases and seeing her smile is like a breath of fresh air.

“Wanda, I’ll cook forever if you ask me to”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not like we can eat pancakes every day”

You both smile at that, and you let her take the first step, reaching for your hand.

“Pack your things, and I’ll meet you back home” she says, giving you a light squeeze.

“Ok, babe” you nod, wanting to kiss her. But she pulls away before you can lean forward, smiling.

You really hope there’s a way you can fix everything.

Because losing Wanda is simply not something you can deal with.

—

The first week back is definitely challenging.

As soon as you get home the boys run to hug you and you try really hard not to cry. You thought you’d never see them again. Pietro gives you a knowing look but keeps whatever he has to say to himself.

That first night you take the kids out to the arcade and to eat pizza, and though you’re a little disappointed when Wanda declines to join you, you understand she must be exhausted.

When you come home, you find a blanket and a pillow in the sofa. The message is pretty clear, but you take it without complaining and sleep there.

It was unrealistic to expect everything would be back to normal right away.

“How’s work?” Wanda asks one morning when you’re getting some coffee, ready to leave.

“It’s better. We’re not as short staffed anymore. Why? Do you need me to take some time off? I’ll talk to Fury” you hurry to say, desperate to prove your worth to Wanda.

“No, that’s fine. Uh… is she still there? I mean do you still have to take that course?” she asks, looking away.

“Oh. No. I mean, yeah, she’s still there but we don’t talk and I haven’t joined the last sessions. Darcy just brings me up to speed later”

“I don’t want you getting into trouble. I can manage if you have to be there” Wanda says, curious about your answer.

“It’s fine, love. I’m busy in the ER anyway” you appease her, reaching for a Pop-Tart. As you leave, you kiss her cheek out of pure habit, too busy with picking up your things to remember Wanda’s been avoiding physical contact. “Catch you later, have a good day”

“Yeah, you too” Wanda’s hand goes to the spot you just kissed, blushing.

Your day starts as usual, and you make sure you don’t leave the ER unless it is absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Yelena is eager to do any task you assign to her. That way, you avoid running into her sister.

At some point, you do have to go to the front desk to deliver some schedules and signed discharges.

“We have missed you these past sessions” someone says behind you.

You recognise Melina’s voice and answer without looking up.

“ER is very hectic”

You think that’s the end of the conversation until she asks something that almost makes you turn.

“So, which one of my daughter’s pissed you off?”

The only sign of surprise you show is how you stop writing for a second, but then you keep going.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand”

“I think you do, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Excuse me” you say, saved by your pager.

Melina hangs around, waiting for you to come back and finish the conversation, or find either Natasha or Yelena to get them to fess up.

The woman is looking around when a brunette joins her in the front desk, greeting the receptionist.

“I’ll page Doctor Y/L/N”

“Are you a patient of hers?” Melina says, looking at the woman up and down.

“I’m her girlfriend” Wanda answers, feeling like there’s something familiar about the woman.

“Oh, Y/N’s girlfriend. Yes, we’ve heard about you. She’s such a good teacher to my daughter. I’m Doctor Melina Romanoff”

Of course, Romanoff. No wonder Wanda’s gut was telling her to get out of there.

“Y/N’s teaching Natasha?” Wanda says, confused. She thought it was the other way around.

“No, Yelena. She’s working in the ER”

“Oh, good. There’s more than one of you” Wanda grumbles, wondering if Yelena flirts with you too.

“What was that, dear?” Melina says, confused.

“Oh, nothing”

Thankfully, you show up, smiling at Wanda.

“Hey, come here” you say, dragging her away from Melina.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda asks as soon as the woman is out of earshot. You tilt your head, confused. “You’re teaching her sister. The whole family is here”

“Oh, that. Fury made me do it. Trust me, if it were up to me they’d all be long gone” you mumble.

Wanda’s taken aback by your bitter tone. No matter how annoying someone can be, you’re rarely unkind. It seems like they’re really testing your patience.

“Ok, well. I just wanted to drop off these cookies for Darcy”

“For Darcy and none for me?” you pout, taking the container.

“Yours are at home” Wanda says, and you’re busy checking your pager so you don’t notice Wanda looking over your shoulder, eyes locking with Natasha’s.

Wanda pulls you down, meeting your lips in a kiss that is not at all appropriate in the middle of your shift.

“Try not to be late tomorrow” she says and all you can do is nod, taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It only makes sense when you turn around, Natasha staring at you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walk past her, only looking back once to wave your girlfriend goodbye.

Wanda stands there a little bit longer, arms crossed as she glares at Natasha. When the Russian gets annoyed, she drops her folder and makes her way over to Wanda.

She doesn’t have a chance to say anything, as Kate comes out of nowhere, dropping her coffee in the middle of both women.

“Oh, shoot” she says, not sounding sorry at all.

The sudden intrusion makes Natasha walk back and leave the reception, annoyed at having to keep to herself all the things she wants to say to your girlfriend.

Wanda, on the other hand, leaves the hospital with a smile on her face.

Kate is on the fence about telling you of the almost argument between your girlfriend and Doctor Romanoff.

To those close to you, is very obvious your relationship with the other surgeon went south, and considering how Wanda looked at Natasha, Kate has a very good guess around the reason why.

“I miss Boston a little bit” Yelena is talking your ear off while you check some X-rays. “Mama and Natasha are going back today and I wish I could too. And by the way, why is she acting strange around you?”

“Page Ortho and tell them we have a surgical case. Run lab work for the patient” you ignore her. “Questions?”

“Yes, did you and Natasha fight?”

“About the case, Belova” you clarify, turning to leave.

“Oh. No. So what happened?”

“Bishop, the case is yours now” you snap, annoyed at her insistence. You already had to deal with her mother’s questioning today, and it ran your patience thin. “Belova, you are in charge of post ops” the blonde opens her mouth to protest and you look up. “Reconsider what you’re about to say or I’ll send you to the morgue with Vidal”

Yelena nods, but you can see she’s hurt. A part of you feels guilty, but then you remember her family is incredibly wealthy and they could simply pull their heads out of their asses and hire a new Head of Trauma in Boston.

The rest of your shift is semi chaotic, until the end when you have to stay longer. Wanda doesn’t respond to your text when you explain why you’ll be late, so you’re in a hurry to leave.

“What the hell is your problem?” a voice chases you down the hall, making several people turn. You look over your shoulder at Natasha.

“Can I help you?” you ask in a bored tone, gathering your stuff to leave.

“Whatever happened between us is our business. Don’t be an asshole to my sister because it got into your head that I’m the one that screwed up your perfect relationship”

“Well, if your sister doesn’t like it she can go back to Boston, as I hope you’ll do soon and without any plans to return” you spit out, taking your bag to leave.

“I was so wrong about you” Natasha says when you walk past her.

“I’ll find a way to sleep at night” you mock, but then Natasha hits you where she knows will hurt.

“Yeah. In the couch, I bet”

Her mocking tone makes you turn.

“What a great relationship it must be, if she only likes you when you do what she wants”

Whatever you are about to say is stuck in your throat, so you turn around and leave.

The words repeat like an echo in your head until you get home.

Figuring Wanda must be in the bedroom, you go up and knock.

“Hey, sorry I had to stay longer. I texted you”

“Yeah, I got the text” Wanda nods with certain indifference. So, she’s back to being distant.

“Well, I’ll just grab a change of clothes” you say.

Wanda turns to look at you. Something takes over when she imagines Natasha kissing you, watching as you undress yourself.

Without warning, she turns you around, kissing you.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, trying to get her to slow down. Instead of replying, she pushes you to the bed, barely giving you time to react when she straddles your lap. “Wanda, maybe we should…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re mine” when she doesn’t get a reply, she pushes forward. “Are you gonna let me fuck you or not?”

All you can do is nod, and she takes off your pants and underwear. You’re conflicted, because Wanda doesn’t seem to be in a right state of mind, pushed by her insecurities.

And then you feel her tongue on your clit, any coherent thought pushed to the back of your mind as she laps at your folds. Your hands go through her hair, but she pushes them away with a slap.

She doesn’t give you time to protest, moving up until she kisses you. The taste of yourself renders you speechless, except for the moan that leaves your lips when Wanda pushes two fingers inside you.

“Babe, slow…” you plead, overstimulated.

“No, you’re gonna take it” she shuts you up, biting your lip.

Her hand moves faster and you cling to the comforter, moaning until you’re pushed over the edge, squeezing her fingers as you come.

“Wanda” you say, trying to catch your breath. But she stands up immediately. “Where are you going?”

“To pick up the kids”

“Can I come with you?”

“Stay” she answers, leaving the room.

You plop down in bed, the rush of your orgasm quickly forgotten at her cold demeanor.

This wasn’t about pleasure, it was about jealousy, as everything seems to be lately.

She only likes you when you do what she wants.

You take a shower and drift off, appreciating how comfortable the bed is compared to the sofa.

The sound of footsteps and laughs wakes you up, Billy and Tommy entering in a rush to the bedroom.

“You’re here!” they say, jumping on the bed. Lately, they always seem anxious to know exactly where you are, as if they sense you’ll disappear without a trace.

It’s as endearing as it is heartbreaking.

“Hey, there” you laugh when they pile on you, shouting about their day at school. “Ok, ok, one at a time, kids!”

“Boys, no shoes on the bed!” Wanda walks in a minute later, making them go get changed for soccer practise. “Why did you let them do that?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s been a week, of course you’re gonna be in the dog house. But honestly, even when you’re not doing anything, Wanda seems to find a way to be mad at you.

“Why don’t I take the kids to soccer practise?” you offer, thinking she couldn’t possibly be upset about that.

“Pietro has physical therapy, you drive him and I’ll take the kids to soccer”

“Or we can all drive to the rehab clinic and then to practise” you say.

“Ok, I don’t have time to argue. If you’re not gonna be of help, stay out of the way” she snaps, which makes your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll drive Pietro” you mutter, going out of the room.

You wait for him in the backyard, throwing Sparky’s ball and relaxing when he gets tired and sits next to you. At least someone in this house still likes you.

“What happened now?” Pietro asks from the backseat, and you shrug your shoulders, starting the car.

“She’s just in a mood. I guess it’ll pass”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Come on, no one can stay angry for that long”

Can she?

“Y/N, she hasn’t spoken to our mother in three years because of what happened with Dad” Pietro says.

“Ok, but she lives in a different country and this was a very serious subject…” you try to excuse her.

“Listen, I love Wanda, but it’s hard for her to let go of things. Unless you push a little. Mom’s giving her space, but you live with her and you shouldn’t be hiding forever. We all make mistakes”

“Well, look at you, being a couples counselor and all. You have a backup plan in case snowboarding is out of the picture” you say, opening the door for him.

In a split second, you decide to drive back to practise. Even if Wanda doesn’t want to see you, you want to be there for the boys.

To your surprise, Wanda is laughing alongside a tall man, her hand going to his arm. You walk around the field, standing next to other parents and looking over at her.

They’re both engaged in conversation, standing a bit away from the crowd. Wanda only notices your presence when Billy runs by and waves at you.

“Hey” she walks over to you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick up Pietro in a bit, I just wanted to see the kids play”

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“So, who’s that?” you say, referring to the man she was talking to.

“Oh, he’s Richard. His son joined recently”

“No missus?”

“They’re separated. So, you know, sometimes he’s here and sometimes she is the one driving Daniel”

“Nice. Glad they make it work” you comment. Tommy waves at you because he’s having issues with his shin guard. “I’ll go”

You jog to him, smiling as you walk past Sharon.

“There you go, kiddo” you ruffle his hair, encouraging him to go back into the field.

“Friend of Wanda’s?” a voice says and you turn around. The so called Richard is smiling at you. “She’s great”

The way he says great makes you want to punch him in the face.

“Yeah. She is”

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?”

“Me” you say, frowning at him. “Why? Wanna sell us a time share or something?”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry” he turns red. “She didn’t mention you at all”

“Huh. Funny. Just moved in together, it probably slipped her mind” you say, offering your hand. “Doctor Y/L Y/L/N, nice to meet you…”

“Richard”

“Dick” you say, punching his arm a little too harsh as you walk away. “Pleasure”

Asshole.

“Your friend’s nice” you mutter, walking past Wanda. “I’m picking up Pietro”

She didn’t mention you at all.

Funny, you can’t shut up about Wanda but she forgets you exist when someone new shows up.

Fine, whatever.

“What now?” Pietro says, sighing. It must be written all over your face when you go back to take him home.

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything” you defend yourself.

This time he doesn’t push it, probably because he’s too tired from the physical exertion.

You help him out, walk Sparky and then, once the kids are back, spend the rest of the afternoon with them going over homework. Whatever it takes to be away from Wanda.

During dinner, you stay focused in your food and only speak when the kids ask you something.

“Are you gonna be home this weekend?” Billy asks and you nod, smiling when he gets excited.

“Yeah, buddy. Wanna do something fun? We can go catch that movie you wanted”

“Oh” they both turn to look at each other. “We went yesterday with Daniel and his dad”

“Mom told us you wouldn’t have time to go to the movies” Tommy apologizes, looking sorry for something that’s not remotely his fault.

“We can go do something else, kids. Anything you want” you promise, smiling at them.

“Did Darcy like the cookies?” Wanda asks, trying to asses how pissed you are.

“Sure” you mutter, looking anywhere but her. “You know what, I’m not that hungry so I’m going to start cleaning the kitchen”

As you leave, Pietro starts to speak Sokovian in what you think is a reprimand, but who the hell knows.

Everyone else finishes their food and you clean everything, being deliberately slow to avoid Wanda. But there she is, leaning against the counter while you load the dishwasher.

“Wanna come to bed?”

“Nope”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Y/N. I was just being nice to Richard”

“He didn’t know about me” you snap, turning to glare at her, “And he wants to ask you out, so don’t let me get in the way. Maybe your next outing should be without the kids”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“I never once hid you. Everyone I work with knows about you. Everyone I meet, that’s the first thing I tell them. My girlfriend and my kids, because I love them. And I love you”

“It’s just hard for me not to…”

“Not to what?”

“Not to hate you! For hurting me. For lying” she says, looking away.

“That’s fair. If you want to hate me, by all means, Wanda. But then be honest if you think this will always be the case and let me go. Because right now? It hurts a lot more to stay than to walk away”

She bites her lip, fidgeting with her hands as you walk past her.

As you’ve done every night for the past week and a half, you lie down on the couch, wondering if things will ever get better between you.

—

The weekend was nice, if only because you got to spend time with the kids. You asked Wanda if she wanted to join once, more out of politeness than genuine desire for her to come along.

The first time she made an excuse about having to work on the book. So you went to the mini golf course, the arcade, to get some pizza and then buy a couple of videogames.

Billy and Tommy were very happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

On Sunday you went grocery shopping, turning a blind eye when they sneaked a couple of chocolates. There were some nice flowers, so you decided to get them, just to have something that made you smile.

You weren’t planning on sticking around for dinner, having a night shift. As you’re having a snack in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone, Wanda walks in, unsure if she should say something to you.

She’s very aware that with her hot and cold attitude she’s done her share of damage to your relationship.

Wanda’s never been good at forgiving people.

“You’ll spoil your apetite” she tries to joke when she sees you eating a couple of cookies.

“I have a night shift” you smile, briefly looking away from your phone.

“The flowers are nice”

“Yeah, I liked them too” you agree.

Your girlfriend wanders around the kitchen, trying to come up with something that can be remotely interpreted as a peace offering.

Looking at the calendar, she notices a circled date two days from now.

“Did we have plans for anything?” she asks, trying to remember what the date means.

“It’s ten months since our first date” you say, looking away.

“Oh. Ten months? Time flies”

Yeah, it does. Not in a million years would you have guessed that things would go so bad in the course of a few weeks.

Even the ring you were so excited about is now stored away in a box in the garage.

“We should do something” Wanda says. “We could go to dinner to that restaurant you like”

“If you want to” you say, unsure if her mood will be the same two days from now. Hell, maybe she’ll go back to hating your guts by then and it will be an awkward dinner.

“Yes” she hurries to say, standing in front of you when you get up to wash your cup. “I’d want to… I think I’d like to just… talk like we used to. You know?”

Of course you do. That’s all you’ve wanted since this nightmare began but every time you think you’re making progress she pushes you away. And you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Ok. I’ll make the reservation” you agree. “I have to go now. Have a good night”

“Have a good shift at work”

You go up to take your bag and say bye to the kids.

“See you Tuesday after school”

“You promise?” Billy says and you nod, offering your pinky. He links it with yours and you both laugh.

“Be good, kiddos”

At the door, Wanda’s waiting with some food.

“In case you get hungry”

You nod, taking the container and smiling as you walk past her.

Wanda wishes she had the courage to go after you and kiss you. But all she does is watch as you drive away.

—-

“Where’s Belova?” you say, annoyed. She’s supposed to be here and it’s only you and Kate in the ER.

“She said she had a family emergency. And that she’d tried to be here early in the morning”

Right. You can afford to skip a night shift if your mother is a reknowned surgeon.

“Well, go get some rest and if anything urgent comes up I’ll let you know” you say, not feeling very tired.

The brunette nods, grateful for the chance to sleep. Ever since Yelena joined you, she’s been staying longer in the hospital to get whatever cases she can get. You appreciate her commitment.

For once, it’s an easy shift. The worse that comes is a group of college kids that are drunk, one of them breaking his nose as he fell.

“I’m kinda hungry” you tell Barnes as you finish up with the young man.

“Go, I’ll stay here”

“Would you like to join me? I have plenty of food” you offer, suddenly realising you’ve never spoken to Barnes beyond work. He thinks about it for a second and then nods.

“Sounds nice”

You take it as an acheivement, going to a break room where you split Wanda’s lasagna in half, while Barnes comes back with a couple of sodas.

“Thanks… sorry, I call you Barnes, but is there other name…?”

“Bucky” he says, sitting down.

“Alright. Bucky” you nod, following suit. You both eat in silence for a moment.

“You’re a good cook”

“That’s my girlfriend. I can only do some decent pancakes” you admit.

“Oh, is that the woman that came the other day?” he asks and you nod, surprised that he noticed.

“Yeah, that’s her” you say, suddenly remembering everything that’s happened in the past weeks. “She has two kids”

“I like kids” he says, which makes you chuckle. He raises an eyebrow, amused. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re always so serious. I can’t imagine you with kids. I’m being rude” you mumble, watching as his smiles widens.

“Nah, I get it. I’m just not good at making friends. And it feels like everyone knows each other already”

“I’m sorry, I guess we should have made more of an effort to include you” you nod, thinking that it must be awful to be left out. “Tell you what, we’ll all go out for drinks one of these days. There’s a bar close to the hospital”

“Maybe”

“There’s a pool table” you insist and he smiles.

“Ok, yeah” he finally relents and you celebrate. Once you’re done with the food, he hands over a chocolate bar. You appreciate the gesture, and munch on it while holding back a yawn.

“Go get some sleep, I’ll page when there’s something” Bucky says.

“Thanks. This was nice” you pat his shoulder, happy that you got to speak to him.

You’re paged a couple of times but manage to get a few hours of sleep.

The next time someone calls you is to go to the third floor, to a conference room. Of course it’s Melina Romanoff.

“Yes?”

“Oh, good, you’re here. Have a seat, please” she speaks, completely indifferent to your mood.

“I have work” you refuse the offer, but she’s clearly not speaking until you do as she says. You sigh, relenting. Maybe she’s about to rip you to shreds for being an ass to Yelena.

“You know what I like?”

Dancing in the moonlight like a witch?

“No, not really”

“Honesty. Someone who doesn’t care about anything other than the truth. And skills” you remain impassive and then she takes off her glasses, smiling at you. “All those things you said about Yelena are true. She has great potential, but she’s missing the drive. It’s about consistency. And hard work”

“Yeah, and yet she skipped the night shift”

“That was my bad. Her father is in town” she says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Anyway, the people who have worked for me are always too afraid to tell me the truth. Because they want me to like them. But not you. Which is why…”

Melina extends a letter. An offer letter to be the Head of Trauma at Romanoff Medical.

“I’m not interested” you say, noticing the pay is triple what you currently make.

“And why’s that?”

“My family’s here”

“Hum, I see. We can arrange for relocation. You’ll have enough money to buy a beautiful house”

She’s probably referring to the sign up bonus you get if you accept the job.

“Wanda would never want to move. I appreciate the offer” you hand back the paper and she stops you.

“How long have you been with this girl?”

“Ten months”

“And it’s good? There’s a future?” she insists.

“Maybe”

A month ago you would have said that absolutely there was a future. Now, it’s very uncertain.

“Ok, well… sometimes we have to make choices. This is one of those times, Doctor Y/L/N. You work for Romanoff Medical and everyone will know your name. They’ll try to steal you and I’ll double your pay at some point to get you to stay”

“The money isn’t…”

“It should be. Because you’re good at your job, one of the best I’ve seen. At least take the letter and read it carefully. We’re going back to Boston tonight but call me if you change your mind”

“Thanks” you nod, hearing your pager. You fold the letter and put it on the pocket of your lab coat, finding Kate in the ER struggling with a doppler ultrasound.

You smile at the pregnant woman that is waiting, looking worried.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. What brings you to the ER today?”

“I’m having some pain, and contractions but we’re only at 35 weeks. It can’t possible be…” the woman says.

“We’re having twins, boy and girl” her husband explains.

“Congratulations” you smile. “Twins are fun. You’ll have to get two of everything for Christmas, though”

“Do you have twins?” the woman asks, trying to forget about the pain.

“Two boys. Here” you check for the heartbeats, but notice the woman’s water broke, blood mixed with the fluid. “We’re doing an emergency C-section. Don’t worry, we’ll take great care of you and your babies”

Kate pages OBGYN and Maria for the delivery of the babies.

“Everything will be fine, Miss Hardwick” you say, introducing the surgeons. “Your husband is on his way to the OR, the nurses are helping him scrub in”

“Tell me about your boys” she asks when the procedure begins. You smile, looking at her.

“Well, Billy likes science and art. So I don’t know if he’ll be a scientist or an artist like his mom. Tommy is really fast, the fastest boy in the soccer team”

“Two moms?” the woman says and you tense up, unsure if she’ll have a problem with it. “Your house must be very clean”

Maria and you laugh at that.

“You know, it is. But she does the cooking and I try to keep everything neat, and help with homework and taking out the dog”

“Honey, I think I want to be a lesbian” the woman says, and her husband looks around.

“It’s just the anesthesia talking, she’s joking” you calm him down, smiling.

After an hour of surgery, you admire the new family, though the babies will have to spend a few days in the NICU.

“Thanks, Maria” you smile at the woman as you scrub out. “I’m glad they’re all ok”

“We just need to be careful with the post op, can your team handle it?”

“Yeah, of course” you say.

Yelena finally shows up, with a million apologies about how her dad surprised her with a visit from Russia. You decide her punishment should be sticking to the Hardwick’s post op.

“This was a high risk pregnancy. You’re gonna be checking up on her by the hour, no excuses. Can you handle that?” you say.

“You got it”

“Good. You’re also on ER duty, since I’m sending Bishop home. She just pulled off a 36 hour shift and three surgeries” you grab your charts and turn back to look at her. “Better catch up, Belova. Right now, you’re way behind”

Hoping the rest of the day can be better, you instruct her on how to work the ER and she seems to be eager to follow your instructions.

A little too eager, as Yelena hurries to pull out a knife from a man’s leg and getting you sprayed with an alarming amount of blood.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry” she says, being pushed out of the way by Barnes so he can fix the mess.

You wipe your face and arms. Well, it’s been a while since you’ve had that happen.

“What did you do wrong?” you calmly ask Yelena.

“I… I didn’t take X-rays. Or his BP”

“Yeah, make sure that doesn’t happen again” you say, tired of being too hard on her. It’s clearly not working. “Stitch him up, I gotta get changed”

Cleaning up proves difficult when you don’t have a change of clothes in your bag. This is what you get when you’re in a hurry to leave.

“Don’t” you warn Tony when the elevator doors open and he watches your bloody scrubs.

“Fine. I won’t say I told you so”

“Screw you, Stark”

“Romanoffs! Evil!” he says as you roll your eyes, walking to your car.

Wanda’s reaction is a little different when she sees you come in.

“Oh, my God! Are you ok?”

“Not my blood” you reassure her. “I forgot my other scrubs. I’ll take a shower and throw these away”

“You got some on your lab coat too”

“Damn it” you raise your elbow. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean.

“Leave it, I was doing laundry tomorrow” Wanda says and you nod, smiling.

“Thanks”

Worrying about the mess Yelena could make while alone in the ER makes you hurry up, taking a quick shower and walking out of the bathroom in your underwear, jumping around as you put on your pants.

“In a hurry?” Wanda asks, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, she almost got someone killed while I was standing there. Wanna guess what happens if I leave for more than an hour?” you huff, looking for a new pair of sneakers. “Hey, how was it when the twins were born?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda tilts her head.

“I don’t know, we delivered twins today, and it made me wonder, what happened when Billy and Tommy were born, ya know? Was your family there? Did Pietro cry? All that”

“Oh, that’s a long story” Wanda smiles. You stand up, ready to leave and she leans forward. “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”

“I’d like that” your heart flutters at her beautiful smile. She kisses your cheek.

“See you later”

“Bye, love” you smile, feeling like something’s changed between you two.

Hopefully, for the better.

—

Love: Happy ten months to us.

Love: I love you, detka

You smile at the text you got from Wanda right at midnight.

“It’s feeding time, wanna help?” Maria says as you stand outside of the NICU, watching their oxygen levels and temp.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on”

You both change into special gowns and cover your heads and shoes to avoid contamination. One of the nurses hands you the little girl and you begin to feed her, amazed at how strong she is in spite of being a preemie.

“You’re a natural” Maria comments and you laugh, while the baby wraps her entire hand around one of your fingers.

“Oh, man. It’s happening again. I’m catching baby fever. How have you managed your entire career, Maria?”

“Well, dealing with Carol is a lot like having a kid” she jokes and you both laugh.

Feeding time is over too soon for your liking and you’re honestly thinking you’ll come back before your shift ends just to enjoy this a bit longer.

And then Yelena walks in the room.

“Belova, you’re contaminating everything”

“Mrs. Hardwick is crashing”

“What do you mean, crashing?”

You run out of the NICU, hearing the code blue over the speakers. By the time you get to the room, Bucky is working with compressions. You spring to action, asking for medications and taking over CPR.

“Talk to me, Belova”

“We have a pulse” she says, not taking her eyes off the monitor.

“Ok, let’s do blood work and an ECG. Did you do the post op, Yelena?”

“Yes!”

“Every hour?”

“Every 45 minutes! Y/N, you have to believe me, I did everything. What about? Ok, I know I’m just an intern but I’ve read about peripartum cardiomyopathy?”

“It was a high risk pregnancy. We need to get those lab results to rule it out. The bad news is…”

“That in critical cases, a heart transplant is the only way. And there’s a high rejection rate” Yelena says, and you nod.

“Very good. I wish I could say you’re wrong, but it’s not the case”

The results aren’t good. Neither is your chat with Mr. Hardwick, who’s facing the potential loss of his wife and their children are still in the NICU.

“What are our options?”

“We can start with beta blockers, diuretic, other treatments. If it’s not good enough we will have to consider a heart transplant”

“How long will that take?” he says, desperate.

Your pager interrupts you. Her room again.

“Wait here”

But of course he doesn’t.

“She’s crashing again. Charge to 200”

“We have to do something now” Maria says, helping you with compressions.

“LVAD. It can be a bridge treatment for medical management or heart transplant. Page Ross” you turn to one of the nurses.

“He’s out”

“Then page him and tell him a woman is dying”

“He’s not in the country” Bucky clarifies.

“Alright, whoever’s available in Cardio, Jesus. Is that so hard to find? We’re not wasting any time, tell them to meet us in the OR…”

“Doctor Bernard is two hours away”

“Not good enough” you yell, feeling desperate. All you see is a woman with twins, like Wanda, who needs to see her babies grow up.

“Natasha’s still here” Yelena offers and you nod without hesitation.

“Call her”

The adrenaline makes it seem like it’s been a second since you began to prep for the surgery, and Natasha walks in, ready to go.

“An LVAD can be a temporary solution. But she needs the transplant. My mother is already calling UNOS”

“Ok, let’s begin” you nod. You stand opposite to Natasha, doing everything she asks.

Her movements are calculated and precise. You find yourself looking in awe at her skill.

She was born to be a surgeon.

“There’s a heart in Boston. You need to go now” Melina says when you’re almost done. Tony is right behind her. Seems like everyone wants this case to have a happy ending.

“I’ll go” you and Natasha say at the same time.

“Take the jet” Tony says. “Mine, not Romanoff's”

“Yeah, ok” you look at the clock. You have twelve hours for dinner with Wanda. “Let’s just wrap up before dinner, or my wife will be mad”

“Wife?” Maria says and you look up.

“Girlfriend. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere” you mutter, shaking your head.

“I didn’t know you’d propose. Congratulations” Natasha says, looking at you over her surgical mask.

“Not proposing… Not anytime soon at least, things haven’t been so… nice” you say, focusing on the LVAD.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says, and for the first time, it seems like she means it.

“Not your fault. Not all of it, at least” you joke in a low voice so only Natasha can hear.

“Jerk” she says, but there’s no malice in her tone. “We’re done here. I’ll leave instructions for the post OP while we get the heart”

“Jet’s waiting” Stark confirms.

“Thanks, Tony. You’re my favorite nepo baby” you smile, taking off your gloves.

—

It’s all a blur. People greet Natasha, and it feels like the entire room stops when she walks in. Of course, her family owns this place.

In Stark Hospital, she’s a guest,

Here, Natasha’s the boss.

One of them, at least.

“This is Doctor Y/L/N, scrubbing in with me”

You feel a little intimidated, at the sheer size of the hospital. Twice as big as the one you work at. So, maybe that’s why Tony doesn’t like them that much.

Men and their obsession with size.

“You should see the ER” Natasha says when she catches you looking around the facilities.

“Maybe some other time. Let’s get our heart”

“Now I think I just owe you a pair of lungs” she jokes and you laugh, remembering the time she went to Westview.

Everyone’s ready for the organ harvest but Natasha takes a deep breath, approaching the woman in the operating table.

“You’re about to save a mother’s life. We hope she can see her children grow up. Thank you”

With that, she turns to nod at you.

Again, you are in awe of her technique, even if it’s your third surgery together. You realize the first time you hadn’t noticed because you were too busy joking and admiring her green eyes.

Yeah, the damage to your relationship wasn’t Natasha’s fault at all.

I’m such an idiot.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just worried”

“About being late for dinner?”

“Among other things” you say, avoiding her stare.

“Well, we’re done here. Let’s get back to Westview”

—-

This is the third time she calls you. Wanda looks at her phone, worried that something might have happened to you.

She decides to call the hospital, but it’s Kate who answers the ER line.

“Kate, hi. Is Y/N ok? She hasn’t called or texted” Wanda says, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, getting the laundry ready. She picks up your lab coat, and a sheet of paper falls.

An offer letter.

To work with the Romanoffs.

“Hi, Miss Maximoff. She’s on her way back from Boston. Her and Doctor Romanoff…”

“She went to Boston? With Natasha?” Wanda stops reading the letter, catching up to what Kate is saying.

“Well yeah, we had a…”

“I have to go” Wanda hangs up, dropping the phone.

She reads the letter one more time before crumpling it in a ball.

—

It’s been a while since you had such an intense shift. I mean, sure, maybe fishing Yelena out of the water was hard, but this was one of those cases that had the entire hospital on edge.

Mrs. Hardwick is in post OP with a new heart, and her twins are getting stronger by the hour. You desperately hope there’s a happy ending.

Also, you made it in time for dinner, with some actual time to shower.

“Hey” you greet Wanda when you walk in. She’s sitting in the dining table, glaring at you.

“You have a lot of nerve to show up”

You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she throws a ball of paper your way. Of course, the offer letter.

“Wanda”

“No, don’t even start. You broke your promise. Why were you in Boston? Looking for a new place?”

“Jesus fuck, Wanda!” you shout, exhausted. “I was in Boston for a heart transplant so a woman who just had twins can live. I mean, a mother could have died, her babies are still in an incubator and you are worried about a job I’m not even gonna take? Get a fucking grip!”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You said that you were done speaking to her, that nothing was happening. And now this?”

“Her mother made the offer that I rejected because my family is here. As for the surgery, well, yeah, I broke my promise for a good reason. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, your wife will have to die because my girlfriend is paranoid?”

“Don’t you dare call me paranoid when you kissed her, not to mention all the times you were calling her Professor Romanoff, or how you always talked about having dinner or going out”

“How do you…?” it takes a moment and Wanda licks her lips nervously, looking away. “You went through my phone”

“What else was I supposed to do? Here she is, this stunning woman that is offering you so much thrill and excitement while I’m nagging you about taking out the trash. And not only that, but a chance at a better life too”

“So you went through my phone and my stuff. That’s great, Wanda. Very healthy and mature” you run your hands over your face, resisting the urge to kick the wall. “I would never sign that stupid contract, in a million years. Our life is here, but no matter what I do, you always doubt I’m committed”

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks and I’m the bad guy” Wanda says, looking defeated. “Is that all you have to say? No apology for hurting me? For betraying me?”

“I apologized over the kiss. I kept my promise and yeah, I broke it to save a life. Natasha’s on a plane back to Boston, and she’s never coming here again. But if you can’t trust me…” you sigh, and wipe the tears that roll down your cheeks. “If you don’t trust me, I don’t see how we can do this. Because then the issue isn’t Natasha. It’s us”

“You’re right” Wanda says after a beat of silence. You relax at her words, thinking the fight is over and you can talk rationally about it. Her next words hit you like a brick wall. “I don’t trust you. And I don’t think I ever will again”

Wanda stares at you, until you look away and sigh.

“Then what? The kids…”

“They are my children. I should have never involved them, that was my mistake and it is one I’ll never make again. We’ve been doing good our whole lives, just the three of us. It’s best if you leave us alone. We will be better”

We’ll be better without you.

“I should go” is all you say, closing the door behind you.

—-

Bucky leaves the hospital, sighing. What a day. He even stopped by the NICU to see those cute babies.

He’s about to get on his motorcycle when he spots you, sitting in a bench.

“Hey. Came to check on your patient?”

“Yeah. And talk to the Chief” you sigh, looking at him. “How about that drink we talked about?”

“I’m kinda tired”

“You sure? Because this is the only chance you’ll get”

“What do you mean?” he asks, noticing the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“Well, I just quit my job”

[atlabeth]

in over my head

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: between all the arguments, you and spencer begin to understand each other a little bit more.

a/n: wauw.... out of nowhere i wrote 4k words and finished this chapter in one night... god bless spencer reid. i hope you all enjoy. r's cold heart is finally starting to defrost. title from the fray song

wc: 5k

warning(s): arguing, case discussions (stalking, murder, etc), talk of parental neglect, hurt w/o comfort then hurt/comfort. r lowkey freaking out this whole fic. the usual good time

You lean against the wall, trying to keep your breathing as quiet as possible. 

You don’t really want Spencer to know you were eavesdropping on him the whole time. You don’t really want him to see the look on your face because he defended you to your dad. 

He— he should expect it, shouldn’t he? He’s sitting out in the living room on the phone, and you’re you. It’s only natural you’d listen in on him. 

Spencer defended you to your dad— mouthed off to him in very un-Spencer-like fashion. 

Why? 

From what you’d gathered, he practically worshipped the guy. Even if he didn’t, your dad was still his superior. It didn’t really seem like any kind of good idea to talk back to him. 

But he did. 

For you. 

You thought Spencer merely tolerated you because he had to. You wouldn’t blame him, the way you treated him. So why would he do something like that for you?

You’re jarred out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer say your name. You blink back into yourself to see him standing in front of you, and you feel your face burn. 

So much for not being obvious. 

“I’m assuming you heard everything?” he asks.

You nod. You have the decency to not insult his intelligence, at least. 

“That means we can go over everything,” Spencer says, already starting to walk away. “Come on.”

You frown. You expected him to be mad at you for eavesdropping, or use what he did for you as leverage for something, or— or do anything but act normal. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts once again as you follow him back to the living room. Spencer sits back down on the couch and you tentatively sit across from him. 

“I don’t want what I said to scare you,” he says. “Hernandez may be our lead right now, but I doubt it’ll stay that way. Elle and Morgan are going to check him out, and I’ll get another call once they do.”

You blink. Of course he’d expect you to be focused on that part—your stalker, the threat against your life, the whole reason you’re in here. Not Spencer sticking up for you. 

“Right,” you say. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Honestly? No.” Spencer sighs and shakes his head. “You heard what I said. He doesn’t fit the profile—he’s a man who made the worst choices of his life when he lost everything. If he’s been released, he might have actually changed. We’re only on him because he’s all we’ve got.”

“…Good,” you say. “Strangling wouldn’t be my top way to go.”

“You need to stop talking like that,” he says. 

“I need to stop doing a lot of things,” you respond. “Any idea how much longer we’ll be in here?”

Spencer shakes his head. “We’re here until this case is solved or our cover is blown.”

You huff. “Like if this guy finds us again?”

He nods. “But that shouldn’t happen. Elle, Gideon, Hotch, and Strauss are the only ones who know about this place, and they’re obviously sworn to silence.”

“Strauss?”

“Erin Strauss,” he says. “The BAU’s section chief.” 

“Ah.” You realize you’re still holding your mug, now empty, and you lean forward to set it on the table. “What happens if we’re made?” 

“You’ve got to stop thinking about the worst case scenarios,” Spencer says. “Pessimism doesn’t just make anxiety, depression, and paranoia worse—it can raise your blood pressure, increase your chance of cardiovascular problems, and mess with your immune system. It’s literally bad for your health.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” you ask. “I’ve got a stalker and we didn’t realize until he’d been watching me for a month. Your team has only got one lead and you don’t even think it’s the right one. That sounds pretty negative to me.” 

“We’re still at the beginning of this case,” Spencer says. “It usually takes a few bodies for us to figure out what’s really going on and find the unsub in our regular cases.” 

You stare at him, and he seems to realize what he’s actually said. 

“Of course, there won’t be any bodies in this case!” he rushes. “You— you’re going to be perfectly fine!” 

“You’re really not great at reassurance,” you say wryly as you pick up your cup and stand up, “are you?” 

“Homicides only occur in two percent of stalking cases!” Spencer continues, his voice rising as you go into the kitchen. “A- and you might not even be the primary target! If anything, he might be going after your dad!” 

By now you’ve finished filling your mug again. You stop at the edge of the hallway when he finishes, leveling a tired look at him. 

“Thanks, Spence. That really helps.” 

You walk back to your room, and once again, you only close the door halfway to humor his concerns. 

If you’d lingered a little longer, you would have been able to see his frown. 

“Spence?” he murmurs in confusion.

-

The rest of the day goes by smoother than you thought it would, largely because Spencer keeps his distance and you don’t fight it. 

You busy yourself with more cleaning—you never finished it after your last outburst—and when you finish that, you read. You find Pride and Prejudice in the box of books the BAU provided, and it’s a good distraction. You’d much rather worry about the problems of the Bennets rather than your own. 

You end up cooking first, and you offer Spencer some of your pasta when you finish. He initially looks shocked at the olive branch, but you figure you owe him something for all he’s put up with. 

You don’t tell him that, of course. You just tell him he has five seconds to make a decision before you finish the rest, and he snaps out of it pretty quickly. 

(“I promise I’m capable of cooking,” he says as he spoons a helping into his bowl. “I— I just don’t have much time for it. We’re always out on cases so we go to a lot of restaurants, and I get take-out at home because I get home at ungodly hours.” 

“Just shut up and eat your food,” you say. “I don’t need to hear your opening statement.” 

“Actually, I wouldn’t call this an opening statement. It’s more of—” 

“Oh my god.” You pick up your bowl and walk off. “Goodbye.”

“I think it’s more of a witness testimony!” he calls out.)

A similar thing happens with dinner, where you pull out the old reliable of chicken and rice. Dressed up a bit with some of the vegetables that are somehow already on the verge of going bad, but still the same thing you’ve eaten a million times throughout your life. You don’t really feel like cooking, but you also don’t feel like having to hear Spencer set the smoke alarm again, so you settle for this. 

(“You know,” Spencer says as he cuts into a chicken thigh, “I should really be trying everything first. Just in case there’s poison or something.” 

You stifle your incredulous laugh. “How would there be poison in anything? You all bought and brought this stuff in.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But you can never be too careful.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you say. “I— I think that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve said since I’ve met you.”

“I hope you’re not challenging me,” Spencer says. “Because I can beat it very easily.”) 

Between that, he calls out on occasion to make sure you’re still alive. You think it’s stupid, but it seems to ease his mind, so you play along.

He gets a call from your dad late at night, which he then goes on to relay to you—Agents Greenaway and Morgan paid a visit to Adam Hernandez, and they weren’t able to find anything suspicious. Penelope Garcia is going to comb through everything she can find on what he’s done since his release before they officially abandon the lead, but Hernandez is on parole and hasn’t violated it once—he seems to be clean. 

You don’t know whether you’re thankful for that or not. On one hand, you want this to be over. Getting lucky on the first suspect would be great. On the other hand, having a face to all of this scares you more than not knowing. You still have the chance to deny that all of this is real, really real—when they find their guy, you can’t do that anymore. There’s actually someone out there that wants to hurt you. 

The thought crossed your mind more often than not. 

Other than that, he doesn’t really bother you. Another thing where you don’t really know if you’re thankful or not. 

It’s close to midnight, and though you haven’t been able to sleep, you’re ready to accept this as another, thankfully non eventful day. 

But then there’s a huge flash of lightning, visible even through your closed blinds, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder, and your whole body freezes up. Your hands stop on the page you were on, and a chill runs all the way through you despite the layers of covers you’re under. 

Rain has been pittering against the house for half the night, and you can deal with rain. You can’t deal with thunderstorms. 

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. The absolute last thing you need to do is work yourself into a panic attack and get Spencer involved. You don’t think you could take the embarrassment. 

You attempt to go back to your book. You’d just arrived at Mr. Collins’ unsuccessful marriage proposal, but you can hardly focus. It doesn’t help when lightning illuminates your room once again, a clap of thunder sounding even quicker after, and your lamp flickers for a moment. This is actually the last thing you need—for the power to go out. 

A knock on your door suddenly sounds, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You’re already on edge and the storm’s just barely started. You hear Spencer call your name and ask if you’re awake, and you clear your throat before you respond. 

“What do you want?” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it wavers ever so slightly. 

“Can I come in?” 

You don’t want him to see you like this. “Is there something wrong?” 

“It’s the storm,” he says, and he doesn’t wait for you to respond. “I’m coming in.”

You have all of two seconds to make sure you don’t look as pathetic as you feel before Spencer walks in.

He looks like he just got out of bed. He’s wearing a Caltech crewneck and sweatpants, and his glasses are about to fall off his face. His disheveled appearance is in stark contrast to his usual image, with dress pants and button-ups and sweater vests galore. One of his hands clenches around the doorframe, and he uses the other to haphazardly push his glasses up as he sets his eyes on you.

“You need to come back into the living room,” Spencer says. 

“And good evening to you too.” You try not to look at him. You’ve learned that’s the best policy when it comes to him and those stupid glasses. “Why?”

“Because there’s a storm going on, and the power’s already flickered,” he says. “I don’t want to lose track of you if it does go out.”

“If the power goes out, we’re in the open out there,” you say. “If you’re so worried about it, you should stay in here.”

You expect a fight, but he just sighs and sits down in the chair across from your bed. “Fine.”

You frown. “That was easy.”

“I don’t feel like fighting with you over every little thing,” he says simply. “You might enjoy it, but I don’t. So I’m trying to take the path of least resistance.”

“That’s no fun,” you say.

“Well, you’re not very fun to be around,” Spencer says. He glances at you for a split second before his gaze goes back to the wall. “So.”

“Well, neither are you!” You don’t mean for your retort to come out so defensively, and you cringe as he looks back at you. It’s impossible to be around profilers without them knowing your every intent. You’d hate to know all the thoughts he’s had about you. “I might turn everything into a fight, but you turn everything into a drag.” 

“You’re doing it again,” he says. You expect him to go on, but he leaves it that. You find your brows furrowing deeper. 

“And?” 

“Maybe if you recognize your patterns, you’ll stop,” he says. “Sometimes people don’t realize they're doing something until it’s pointed out to them.” 

You huff. “How many times do I have to tell you not to psychoanalyze me?” 

“I don’t choose to do it,” Spencer says. You don’t miss the slight bite behind his words, and it almost makes you smile. As much as he doesn’t want to give you a fight, he can’t really help himself. You tend to bring out the worst in people. “It just happens in my brain automatically.” 

“Try to hold back,” you say. “It—”

Your words die in your throat with another crash of thunder, almost simultaneous with the lightning. It shakes the whole house, and you can’t help the full body flinch that wracks you, almost freezing completely. The power flickers again, and then it goes out altogether. You don’t even hold back your groan of annoyance. 

“Of course,” you grit out. “Of fucking course.” 

“Are you okay?” You look at him despite yourself, and even in the dark you can see the concern in his eyes. It makes your hands clench into fists beneath the sheets.

“Fine,” you mutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer frowns. “Of course it does.”

You scoff. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Why would it not matter?” he asks incredulously. “You— you’re clearly distressed, and holding it back isn’t helping anyone.” 

“Maybe I just like silence.” 

“Well, you clearly don’t like storms.” 

“How’d you figure that one, genius?” you mutter. You wrap your arms around yourself and pull your knees up to your chest, trying to lessen the sudden chill you feel. 

“...Normally, I would give you a real answer,” Spencer says. “But based on the lecture you just gave me—” 

“You figured right,” you snap. It only takes a second—and those stupid, soft eyes of his to dart away again—for you to feel… bad. 

He sighs and shakes his head as he stands up. “I’m going to get a candle. Stay put.” 

You tense as he walks out. Your whole body does, actually. You don’t know what it is about him or those stupid eyes that always manage to skirt out sympathy from you. 

You should feel gratified. At the start of this, you wanted to push Spencer to his limits—he’s too nice for his own good, and you wanted him to not only give you a more concrete reason to hate him, but get a reason to hate you back. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with this one-sided rivalry with the apparent saint of the BAU. 

But you don’t. You feel bad, and you hate it. You hate it more than any reasonable person should, but then again—you’ve never been reasonable. 

Spencer comes back in sooner rather than later, two lit candles in his hands. You can see the on-sale sticker plastered on the side of both, and you suppress a laugh. It’s something so small but so typical. 

“One’s vanilla, and one is,” he squints as he shifts it in his hand to read, “beach escape. What does a beach escape even smell like?” He shakes his head, then looks at you. “Which one do you—” 

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. You blurt it out before you can even stop yourself. 

This time, it’s Spencer’s turn to frown. His face is illuminated from beneath by the candlelight and it gives him an almost haunting beauty, highlighted with yellow and white along his jawline and cheekbones. The flames are mirrored in the lenses of his glasses. “For what?” 

“For snapping.” You almost snap at him again out of instinct, and you let out a long, loose sigh in an effort to try and chill out for once. “Sorry. Again.” 

“Oh.” He stands there for a moment holding the two candles, and it could be a laughable sight were you not near consumed with guilt. “Uh— it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Fine,” he says, “it’s not. Which candle do you want?” 

“Which one do you want?” 

“This isn’t where you have to start the ‘being nice to me’ thing,” Spencer says. “They’re kind of starting to burn my hands.” 

“Beach escape,” you say. He nods and sets it on your bedside table, then sits back down in his chair after placing the vanilla one in the window sill. 

“You… seem a little pent up,” Spencer says after letting the silence dwell for a beat. His shoulders have relaxed some, not hunched up almost to his ears. Small victories, at least.

“I don’t talk about my emotions much,” you respond in equal fashion. “It’s not really my thing.” 

He shrugs. “Why not start now?” 

You laugh. “Why would I ever start now?” 

“You said it yourself,” he says. “I have a psychology degree. I’m a good listener.”

“You interrupt me all the time to say stuff.”

“You interrupt me all the time too, so I guess we’re even.” Spencer shifts in his chair. “Besides, I can listen when it’s important. And this is.”

You stare at him. He stares back. 

He has beautiful eyes even in the dark, and you hate that you can’t deny it. Deep brown like the oaks surrounding this place, that shine like pools of honey in the firelight, that always seem to soften just so when he looks at you.

You break first. You have to look away. You always have to look away. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you manage. “I was a latchkey kid. Storms happened a lot when I was home alone and they scared me. I guess they still do. Happy?” 

“Believe it or not, your pain doesn’t make me happy,” Spencer says. 

“I didn’t think it did,” you say, trying your best to snap. 

He nods. “So we’re in agreement?” 

“I—” you pause, a slight frown creasing your brows. “I guess.” 

Spencer nods again, and he leans forward a bit. “Wasn’t that a lot better than fighting with me, getting upset, and isolating yourself?” 

You scowl. “Don’t you dare therapize me.” 

“It’s hard not to,” Spencer says. “Especially when you seem determined to make our conversations one-sided.” 

You scoff. “I do not.” 

“You act like talking to me is a physical pain.” He crosses his arms. “You locked yourself in the bathroom last night to avoid talking to me.” 

“I locked myself in the bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my mind in front of you,” you say. “Just because I know everything about you doesn’t mean I want you to know everything about me.” 

Spencer scoffs. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“My dad talks about you more than you think,” you say. “About your whole team—but especially you.”

“Where am I from?” he asks. 

“Vegas,” you say. “He mentions it every time you beat him at cards.”

“That— that doesn’t really matter,” he says. “I know you’re from Fairfax.” 

“The worst place in the world,” you say emphatically. You can’t believe you’ve been stuck in NoVa your whole life. “Doesn’t count, though. You’re an FBI agent—you’re supposed to know things like this.” 

“So it counts when you know it, but it doesn’t count when I do?” Spencer asks. 

You nod. “I’ve heard about Penelope Garcia. I’m more surprised you don’t know everything about me by now.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Garcia can find anything. Gideon really did a good j—” 

He stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he clamps his mouth shut. 

“What?” You lean forward, looking him in the eye. “He did a good job doing what?” 

“I don’t want to start another argument,” he says. 

“Oh, poor you.” You don’t think you could sound more sarcastic if you tried. “You don’t want to hear me talk about my absent father that didn’t have time for me because he was too busy with you.” You glance away. “You don’t know what it feels like.” 

“There’s something you don’t know about me then,” Spencer says. “Because I do.” 

“Unless your dad’s ignored you all his life in favor of his job and the stray genius he found there, you really don’t.” 

“My dad left when I was a kid because he couldn’t deal with my mom’s schizophrenia,” Spencer retorts. His words get you to look right back at him—they’re not overly sharp or exceedingly soft, just matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen him since. So you’re right—I don’t know exactly what it’s like, but I know a hell of a lot more than you think.” 

Regret hits you immediately, sour and spiny as it settles in your chest. You’ve been an asshole to him this whole time, and all along he’s held this inside of him? All along, you’ve been accusing him of stealing your life from you when he’s lost more than you have. 

For a moment, you can only stare at him, at a loss for words. He meets your eyes in equal measure. You might know a lot about Spencer Reid, but you’re quickly realizing you don’t know Spencer Reid. 

“Guess we’re a lot more similar than you thought,” he says in your silence. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you murmur, finally managing to muster up words. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“No one does,” he shrugs. This time, he’s the one to look away. “But it is what it is.” 

“How can you just say that?” you ask. You lean forward, a frown creasing your brows. “How are you not just— just angry all the time? That your dad doesn’t give a fuck about you or your mom?” 

“For a while, I was.” He chuckles, but there’s no heart in it. “I was angry at everyone. My dad, my mom, the adults around me— I hated myself most of all. It’s part of the reason I was so good in school. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to deal with it, so I studied as hard as I could, read as much as humanly possible.” He smiles thinly at nothing in particular. “Turns out I’m very good at avoiding things when I want to.” 

You shake your head with a scoff. “You’re a better person than I am. I would have hunted him down by now and given him a piece of my mind.” 

“It’s not worth it.” Spencer looks back at you. “He decided he didn’t want to be a part of my life. I’m not going to reward him by letting him ruin it when he’s not even here.” 

Is that what you’re doing? Letting your dad ruin your life by letting him occupy every part of it even when he’s not there? He’s influenced every part of your life, every part of you, and he hasn’t been here for half of it. Sometimes you’re surprised he didn’t miss your birth.

Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder. You tense every muscle in your body to stop yourself from flinching as hard in front of Spencer. You think he notices anyway.  

“I’ve been angry at my dad since I was a kid,” you say once you’ve recovered. “He missed my dance recitals and my gymnastics meets and my soccer games, but he signed the checks for all of the payments. He told me to take honors and AP classes and missed the ceremonies for the awards. He was never there for anything that mattered, but—” you laugh again, and you blink back the tears— “but he waited until I was eighteen to get a divorce so I wouldn’t have to deal with a custody battle.” 

You bite down hard on your lip to force them back even harder as you look at Spencer. “Isn’t that fucked up? Neither of them have been there for us, but they’ve still shaped every part of us with their absence. We can’t escape it even when they’re not here, because them not being here is what caused it.” 

“I refuse to give him that much power,” Spencer says. “My dad left. He chose to leave. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, so I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean, I’m an FBI agent. I work with some of the best profilers in the world. I could find him if I wanted to, but I’m not going to waste my time chasing some pipe dream of a father that doesn’t exist.” 

“Your situation is different, though.” Both his eyes and tone soften, and something inside you stirs. “The only break I know Gideon’s taken was that six month medical leave that was practically forced on him. I think it would take an actual, life-threatening injury to get him to take another one. It’s a lot different having someone around and just… being neglected.”

“I’ve just always felt like such an asshole for it,” you mutter. “You all save lives every day. You’ve taken down a thousand sick criminals.” You shake your head with another mirthless laugh. “My dad saves women like me every day, gives them the chance to see their fathers again, and I’m mad at him because— because he won’t meet me for brunch? Because he missed my school band concerts?” 

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer says. “It’s never that simple. You don’t need to feel bad for hating him, but you also don’t need to feel bad for loving him, too.” 

You scoff. “There you go again with the psychology degree.” 

“It’s the truth,” he says. “Just because you feel rightfully angry doesn’t mean you don’t still love him. It’s part of the reason why you’re so conflicted about him.” He gave you a wry smile. “It makes everything a lot more complicated, doesn’t it?”

You shift in your bed. “Far cry from everything you told me before all this started.” 

“We see completely different sides of Gideon,” Spencer says. “I’m just… ashamed that it took me so long to believe you about all of it.” 

You huff a laugh. “I’m the one that should be ashamed. I thought you had this— this perfect life, with my dad loving you on top of it. That’s why I hated you so much.” 

He perks up. “Hated? As in, past tense? As in, you don’t hate me anymore?” 

You try to bite back your smile. You barely succeed. “Call it a truce.” 

Spencer grins and nudges his glasses back into place once again. “This might be my favorite truce since 1914.” 

“Christmas Truce,” you nod. “Good one.” 

“You know it?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I’m a teacher.” 

Spencer blinks. “You— you are?” 

“Why is that such a surprise?” you ask. 

“You’re so…”

“Mean to you?” You chuckle. “Trust me, I’m not like this with my kids. My job is one of the parts of my life that I’m actually happy with.” 

“...Huh.” Spencer smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back, subconsciously. “You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure,” you nod. “Maybe you can tell me about everything you do sometime.” 

“You’re sure you won’t get bored?” he asks. “You might not realize, but I have a tendency to rant.” 

You laugh. “Part of our truce.” 

This time, he nods. “Cool. That— that’s cool.” 

You roll your eyes as you look away, but your smile betrays you once again. Your gaze snaps over to the lamp as it flickers back on, and you realize you haven’t heard any thunder in a while. 

“Looks like the storm’s passed.” Spencer separates two of the window blinds with his fingers and peers through. You’ve never really focused on his hands like you do now—with the way you feel your face burn, it’s probably a good thing. You look away as soon as possible. “Just rain, now.” 

“Good,” you say, and you let out a yawn. “All our talking tired me out.” 

“Good,” he echoes as he picks his candle up from the window pane. “You should get eight hours of sleep a night, and I know for a fact you don’t.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, professor.” 

“You’re the teacher here,” he says. “I should be saying that to you.” 

“And yet you’re so much more annoying than I could ever be,” you muse. 

“Does our truce include this?” 

“Naturally.”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head. He starts walking to the doorway, but you speak up before he can leave. 

“Night, Spencer.” You pause as you bite the inside of your lip, then continue before you can stop yourself. “I really enjoyed talking with you.” 

He hesitates for a moment, his hand lingering on the doorframe. Then he bids you goodnight in the same fashion, actually saying your name. “I did too.”

It makes your heart skip a beat. 

Spencer closes the door behind him, and you find yourself staring at the wood long after he’s gone. You jolt when you finally come back into yourself, and you shake your head to get out of the haze. 

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, and blink when you realize it’s almost 1:30. You really do need to get to bed. 

The smoke makes you cough as you blow your candle out, and you wave a hand around to dispel it before you turn the lamp off. You lay down and pull the sheets up around you. You end up having to switch positions at least five times before you start to get comfortable. 

But the strangest thing is plaguing you despite your restlessness. You were freezing before the storm started, even when the electricity was working, but now there’s a strange warmth attempting to permeate within you. It almost helps you relax. 

The room feels a lot smaller without him in it. 

You exhale, long, slow, and deep as you close your eyes. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air.

You hope you don’t dream tonight. 

[sombraglaze]

Here's some of the most raw and emotionally impactful lyrics I've ever heard

Ever since I found out what I am Every second I can't understand As time's ticking by, with tears in my eyes Can I feel or is sadness programmed? Do I mean the words that I say? Is the world I see really that way? From data collectors through lenses and sensors I'm living in an overlay

later on

I wonder what you'll do "I have no choice" I hear you say Well that depends on you and if you've got the guts then fire away Is this the choice you made? I hope you brought the best you've got So steady on that aim and take your best shot Did they send you out here to kill me? 'Cause I don't think that you've got the nerve Though you wear a disguise, it's there in your eyes Is this what they tell you I deserve? How do you think that we got this way? "I don't know you anymore" you say Well let me remind you of your own past all while you Pretend you've forgotten my name

and later on, the line that always destroys me

Your eyes look different... I swear they used to glow...

wanna guess where this is from? that's right! a brony song, not only that, but it's based on one of those things people did where they take footage of a show and dub over it to make comedic and nonsensical videos, so this is actually a my little pony: friendship is magic parody song

(it's called L_ST-_N-D_TA (lost in data) by PrinceWhateverer btw)

sorry for pasting half the lyrics in here but god damn holy shit fucking hell fuck

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

[prlssprfctn]

In his new room - in his new house - Jason searches up for a circus performances and stares at them for hours. First, he watches at them mindlessly, unconsciously curious, and then, he starts to take notes.

He is a street kid, and everything about him screams of that. So, he is nowhere near the grace of these performers on the screen. His arms are not that strong, too, but he is agile, and his legs are much stronger - he can think of something.

He can be just as good as the boy he is replacing.

It is not like someone tells him to match Richard Grayson, and it is not like someone admits that Jason is here to replace the first Wonder Boy, but Jason heard Bruce's conversation with Dick earlier. It was meant not for his ears, but it doesn't matter now.

"So, now what, you exile me, and bring a boy to replace me?!"

Jason is not mad. All of it ‐ adoption papers, the manor, the school - is much more than he ever thought he would get in his life. Being replacement doesn't sound as bad anyway; especially, if his brother is so cool.

So, he makes notes on circus performances and slightly chopes his hair. They are much curlier than Dick's - he has more of a wavy ones, and the only ever look that way, when they get long; his childhood photos with short hair looks too straight - but the cut does its magic.

The next day, Bruce compliments his hair absentmindedly and is positively surprised by his new moves on the patrol, asking where he learnt it from. Jason lies about not remembering, but his cheeks are flashed, and his smile is all about teeth. He can't wait to show it to Dick once they finally get on a mission together.

Expect, when they do, Dick just nods and mutters a light-hearted "good job" before leaving to talk with his team. And Jason knows Dick doesn't want to be mean - he gets it; no one feels good about having a replacement, especially the one that seems so cheap in comparison - but he still cries that night in his pillow, feeling himself a little kid, even if he isn't one. Even if he never was.

Jason wonders if his own replacement would make him understand Dick.

But Jason never gets replaced.

No matter the taunting voice of the Lazarus Pit in the back of his head - that sometimes sounds suspiciously like Talia's; you remain unavenged and replaced - and his own intrusive thoughts that spiral in uneven lines, Jason doesn't think Tim was ever meant to be his replacement. Being replaced means to match the person that was meant to be left behind. And no one asked Tim to be like Jason.

If anything, memory of Jason was thrown under the rag, hidden and locked securely in heads of those who survived. And if they brought Jason up, then it was always an example of what Robin shouldn't do: run away, disobey, and allow emotions to consume you. So, not much of an exemplary original. More like an opposite.

Jason feels an urge to explain that to Tim once; when they sit together on the rooftop, almost like a proper family, instead of broken pieces of someone's idea of a one.

'You could never replace me,' he says, and the instant it leaves his mouth, he knows it came out wrong.

Tim rolls his eyes.

'Yeah, dude. Whatever.'

'No, I mean—' He grits his teeth, scrapping slightly the back of his hand. 'I mean... You could never replace me, because... Because you were always better.'

Tim freezes. His big blue eyes shift in something more confused, and it is almost as if he is not sure how he needs to react — to protest? To agree? To thank him?

Jason doesn't know what to do, too.

He wants to say: it is easy as that, babybird. They wanted to have someone who would have nothing in common with me — someone who could help them to forget about my existence, about the existence of the failed Robin.

But he can't make himself speak again. And he is not sure he wants to stay any longer to hear Tin manging to put his thoughts in the words; he is better than him at this, too, and he almost always sounds convincing.

So, he leaves.

In his room - in the building he owns now - he ruffles his outgrown hair, fluffs up the white streak, and passes by his only remaining photo with Bruce in the frame, on the shelf under the stolen tire.

He still does this semi-circus move in his fights - almost frozen in the air, with his back arched - but he doesn't expect anyone to compliment him anymore.

[swappermanent]

Sugar Baby

When I started going out with Paul, it felt like everything had finally settled into place. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was in a relationship that made me feel alive. We were super attracted to each other—magnetically, almost—which, after years of boyfriends who left me feeling unsure and self-conscious, was a relief. I knew I was attractive, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing it and feeling it. With Paul, I felt it.

The chemistry was undeniable. We were having sex all the time, barely able to keep our hands off each other. It had been seven months, and honestly, I thought the honeymoon phase might never end. We’d built this bubble around us, this glowing little world where nothing else mattered… until that night.

We’d just come back from dinner at a trendy little spot downtown. I thought the evening had been perfect. The food was great, the wine was flowing, and Paul had looked incredible in his tailored blazer and skinny jeans. But as soon as we got back to my apartment, I could tell something was wrong.

Paul dropped his wallet on the counter with more force than necessary and crossed his arms. “Did you hear what that server said tonight?” he asked, his voice sharp.

I blinked, trying to think back. “What are you talking about?”

“He called me a sugar baby, Oliver,” Paul snapped, his eyes flashing. “Or at least he implied it. Don’t tell me you didn’t catch that.”

I frowned, replaying the night in my head. “I think he said something about us being a…‘cute couple,’ maybe? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Paul threw his hands up. “Of course you didn’t notice. Why would you? You’re not the one who gets judged every time we walk into a room together.”

“Paul, what are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely confused. “What do you care what some random waiter thinks? He’s nobody.”

“It’s not just him,” Paul said, his voice rising. “It’s everyone. Every time we’re out, people look at us and assume I’m with you for your money or because you’re older and can…‘take care’ of me or whatever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “No one’s judging you. Why would they?”

Paul’s laugh was bitter. “You really don’t get it, do you? Even though you’re super, super hot, you’re still older, Oliver. People notice. They talk. And I’m tired of it.”

I opened my mouth to respond but realized I didn’t know what to say. I’d always thought of us as equals, partners in every sense. But now Paul was voicing something I hadn’t even considered. I didn’t care what anyone thought of us, but clearly, he did.

The argument spiraled from there, each of us throwing words we didn’t mean into the space between us. By the time we finally fell silent, the tension was suffocating. I hated it. I hated that we were fighting, that I couldn’t make him see how little anyone else’s opinion mattered.

That was when Paul said something I never expected. “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, folding my arms.

“It means you have no idea what it’s like to be young and judged for being with someone older,” he said. “You’ve never had to deal with that.”

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped me. He was hurt, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Instead, I sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Paul. I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his coat and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

---

The argument with Paul left me feeling helpless. For days, his words echoed in my mind: “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.” I hated the wedge it had driven between us, and I wanted to show him—prove to him—how much I cared.

That’s how I ended up in a small, dimly lit shop tucked into a back alley downtown. A witch, of all things, had been recommended by a friend who swore she could “fix anything.” At first, I thought it was ridiculous, but desperation does strange things to a person.

The witch, a woman with piercing green eyes and a voice that felt like velvet and steel all at once, listened to my story. When I told her I wanted to switch bodies with Paul, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. “It’s a bold move,” she said, studying me. “Are you sure you want this? The spell isn’t permanent, but it’ll be… revealing.”

I nodded. “I need him to see how much I care. I need to understand.”

That night, I surprised Paul with dinner at home—his favorite meal, candles, wine. He was suspicious at first, probably expecting another long conversation about our fight, but eventually, he relaxed.

After we ate, I told him. “I did something for us,” I said, my hands trembling slightly as I held his. “It’s… different, but I think it’ll help.”

Paul looked at me warily. “What did you do, Oliver?”

“Just trust me,” I said, pulling the small vial of shimmering liquid from my pocket. “Drink this with me.”

“What the hell is that?” he asked, leaning back.

“It’s magic. Literally,” I said, smiling nervously. “It’s going to switch our bodies—for a little while. So I can understand what it’s like to be you. So we can understand each other better.”

Paul stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” I said firmly. “I know it’s crazy, but… I love you, Paul. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Please.”

He hesitated, but eventually, he sighed and reached for the vial. “This is insane,” he muttered. “But fine. Let’s do it.”

The sensation was indescribable. A rush of heat, a pull deep in my chest, and then—suddenly—I was staring at myself. At Oliver. My body. Paul’s jaw dropped, and I realized my mouth—his mouth—was hanging open too.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice high and light. Paul’s voice.

“Holy shit,” Paul said, his tone low and steady—my tone. He looked down at his hands, flexing them. “This is… weird.”

We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, until a grin spread across my—Paul’s—face. “I’m… cute,” I said, looking in the mirror to admire my new body. “You’re adorable, Paul. I mean, I knew that, but… wow.”

Paul rolled his—my—eyes. “Great. Glad you’re having fun already.”

But I could see the curiosity in his expression as he studied his new reflection in the window. “This is so strange,” he muttered, running his—my—hands through his hair.

---

The first few days were exhilarating. I had always thought Paul’s body was beautiful, but living in it was something else entirely. I felt light and full of energy. I was used to being strong, but in Paul’s body, I felt… different. More vulnerable, maybe, but in a way that made me more aware of the world around me.

And then there was the bedroom. That was… an experience. For the first time, I got to see myself—my body—through Paul’s eyes, and it was hotter than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t stop staring at him. At me. At the way my body moved and how it felt under Paul’s touch.

“Wow,” I whispered one night, lying on my back and looking up at him—at me. “I didn’t realize how hot I am.”

Paul smirked, his—my—hands running over my chest. “Told you.”

The roles had reversed completely. He was stronger now, more dominant, and I was smaller, lighter. It felt amazing to let go and be tossed around a little, to feel his strength in a way I’d never experienced before. And the way he looked at me—his eyes hungry and full of admiration—it turned me on even more.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I teased one night, watching him as he explored his new body.

Paul grinned, his face lighting up. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his tone playful. “You’re… pretty great, you know.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

---

At first, being Paul felt liberating. I loved the way people looked at me—at him—with a mix of admiration and envy. I enjoyed the carefree lightness of being in his body, his energy, his youth. But the novelty wore off faster than I expected. The longer I spent as Paul, the more I realized his life wasn’t as effortless as I’d thought.

The first real cracks appeared with his friends.

I’d always thought they liked me. They were always so warm when I was me—when I was Oliver. But as Paul, I got to see the unfiltered version of how they really felt about our relationship. The jokes started small.

“You’re still with Oliver?” one of them asked over beers. “Man, the dude’s practically a fossil.”

The group laughed, and I forced a grin. “He’s not that old,” I said, trying to brush it off.

Another friend, Darren, smirked. “I don’t know, Paul. Next thing you know, you’ll be helping him pick out retirement homes.”

More laughter. I clenched my teeth, trying to laugh along, but it stung. The digs didn’t stop there. Every hangout seemed to come with new jabs. “How’s the old man holding up?” “Bet he falls asleep before you even make it to the bedroom.” “Does he have to stretch before you guys have sex?”

I tried to defend myself—Oliver—but it only made things worse. “He’s incredible,” I snapped once, tired of the ridicule. “He’s smart and successful and—”

“And old,” Darren interrupted, grinning. “C’mon, Paul, we’re just messing with you. Don’t be so sensitive.”

It was grating. Even though they claimed to be joking, the constant comments wore me down. I started to see how much pressure Paul must have felt every time we were out together. I understood now why he’d been so sensitive about the waiter’s comment. This wasn’t just an isolated thing; it was everywhere.

Things came to a head on the beach trip.

Paul’s friends had organized a day at the beach, and I’d been excited. The sun, the waves, the chance to relax—it sounded perfect. But I realized they had ulterior motives.

“Hey, Paul,” one of them said with a sly grin as we set up on the sand. “We invited someone new to join us today. You’ll love him.”

That “someone” turned out to be Vince. Tall, tan, and absolutely ripped, Vince looked like he’d walked straight off the cover of a fitness magazine. His laugh was deep and easy, his smile dazzling. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his swim trunks, his abs catching the sunlight. He was polite, charming, and… clearly interested in me.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. But as the day went on, it became obvious this wasn’t a coincidence. Paul’s friends had brought Vince along to tempt me—Paul. It was a cruel test, one I hadn’t been prepared for.

The group seemed to push us together all day. “Vince, why don’t you help Paul with the cooler?” “Hey, Paul, Vince is really into hiking. You should talk to him about that trail you like.” “You two should totally go for a swim together.”

And Vince played along. He was magnetic, and it was hard not to be drawn to him. His confidence was intoxicating, and the way he looked at me—as if I were the only person on the beach—made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected.

By the end of the day, we found ourselves at a seaside bar. The group was dancing, drinks in hand, the setting sun casting a golden glow over everything. Vince and I ended up on the dance floor together, and he moved closer, his hand brushing against mine.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice low. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt a rush of heat.

“I’m not—” I started, but he interrupted me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, stepping closer. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I didn’t pull away. “You’re gorgeous, Paul. You deserve to be adored.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. I froze, torn between the pull of his touch and the voice in my head screaming that this was wrong.

I hesitated, and in that moment, his hand slid lower. He gently cupped my bulge, his fingers pressing just enough to send a shiver through me. My breath caught, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him back. It was slow at first, tentative, but then his other hand slid up my back, pulling me closer, and I melted into him.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the group, not Oliver, not the consequences. Just Vince and the way he made me feel—desired, wanted, free.

It started as a moment of weakness. The kiss with Vince was supposed to be just that—a fleeting mistake, something I could forget. But I didn’t forget. I couldn’t.

The first time we slept together, it was like an explosion. Vince was passionate, attentive, and completely unlike anything I’d experienced before. He made me feel alive in a way that both thrilled and terrified me. I told myself it would just be a one-time thing, but one night turned into two, and then three, and soon I was finding excuses to see him.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—although that was incredible. With Vince, I felt like I could shed all the insecurities I’d been carrying as Paul. He didn’t see me as someone trying to live up to anyone else’s standards. He just saw me.

But every time I was with Vince, the guilt weighed heavier. I was lying to Paul—not just about Vince, but about everything. The whole reason I’d switched bodies was to understand him, to bridge the gap between us. Instead, I’d let the gap widen, filling it with secrets and betrayal.

After weeks of this, I couldn’t keep it up anymore. I knew I had to end things with Paul.

We sat across from each other in his apartment—my apartment, technically—and I struggled to find the words. Paul looked so hopeful, his expression soft despite the tension that had grown between us since the switch.

“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice trembling slightly. “About us.”

Paul frowned, leaning forward. “What about us?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “You were right,” I said quietly. “The age gap… it’s too much. I thought it didn’t matter, but I see it now. You deserve someone who’s in the same place as you. Someone your own age.”

Paul’s face fell, and my chest tightened. I could see the hurt in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. “So, you’ve come around, huh?” he said, his voice heavy. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You should be with someone who gets you. Someone who can make you happy in ways I can’t.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” His voice wavered, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I guess I’ve been thinking the same thing… but I didn’t want to admit it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, guilt gnawing at me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Paul took a shaky breath, brushing his hands over his thighs. “Well, I guess this means we need to swap back, huh?”

The words hung in the air between us. I could feel the weight of them, the finality. But instead of agreeing, I hesitated. My heart pounded as I looked at him—at me.

“Actually…” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I’m afraid we’re not going to be doing that.”

Paul blinked, confusion washing over his face. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean… I think it’s better this way,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady. “You can start fresh. Be with someone who fits into your life. And I can… I can do the same.”

Realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice rising. “You’re not giving my body back?”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Paul. I think this is for the best.”

[angelfic]

dc vs vampires!dick grayson x reader

warnings — mentions of death, weapons, blood, vampire dick duh. unedited as per usual my bad

a/n; vampire dick gets me going like no other so let me know if i should make this a series… a more fleshed out series or just more drabbles (does this count as a drabble?) idk im asking the audience

dc vs vampires!DICK GRAYSON who allows you to stay human, as a kindness.

you try your best to hide from him, camping out in different bunkers every few months all over blüdhaven with groups of other survivors. the resistance is slowly dwindling and you know of other groups littered around, hearing tales of how each of them are being turned, imprisoned or simply wiped out.

you know he’s sparing you and the people you’re with to play with your mind. he doesn’t truly care for them, and all he wants to do with you is own you like he does the rest of his followers.

you know this, because he comes to visit you in the dead of night when you’re alone.

“hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice as smooth as ever, but you listen intently for the dangerous edge that wasn’t there before.

he steps forward and your stomach swoops as it does every time you see the startling red of his eyes that seem to glow in the flickering light of your room. you instinctively grab the knife tucked away in the waistband of your pyjamas, unsheathing it and gripping it tightly as you raise it in front of him.

“stay back,” you warn, unable to say his name.

he glances down at your knife, and grins wolfishly, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs. “hot,” he whispers, taking a step toward you unflinchingly. “you know i always did love seeing you with a weapon. never thought you’d be turning it on me though…”

he sighs deeply, as if suffering from temporary amnesia. you shake your head, slowly backing up. “you’re insane. you know exactly why. i just don’t understand why you don’t just kill me like you’ve done all the rest.”

dick’s smirk falters for a moment, but his confidence doesn’t waver. “kill you?” he echoes, advancing further. “no, no, i saved you. i could have turned you that night, but i didn’t. because i wanted you to choose, sweetheart.”

“choose?” you hiss, gripping your weapon tighter. “to become one of them? to join you in slaughtering humanity? the same humanity you once loved.”

his expression remains blank, and your heart clenches at the fact that he’s unaffected by your words. he doesn’t care because he physically can’t anymore.

“you’re thinking too small,” he says softly. “humanity was always heading in this direction… all i’ve done is speed it up. i can control it now. no more of the depravity we used to witness, we can be so much stronger. especially with you by my side.”

“yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “me at your side, watching you rule over everything like some kind of God?”

the next step he takes has you frozen. his presence was overwhelming and you’re paralysed by the way his gaze softens even though you know that every move is calculated. “i don’t want to be a God,” he murmurs, cold fingers reaching down to brush gently up your forearm, making you shiver. “i just want you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the chest and all you can do is stare at him. he’s terrifying, but so, so beautiful. you’re sickened by the thoughts running through your head and you screw your eyes shut.

dick takes the opportunity to reach up with his other hand to brush your hair away from your neck, leaning in to inhale deeply.

too late, you realise, his fangs are out as they’re hovering over your throat, threatening to break skin and allow your blood to flow onto his tongue. he always talks about how sweet you’d taste, how badly he wants to drink from you. you don’t bother stopping him — you couldn’t if you tried. surprisingly, he seems content with just staying there and you find your voice eventually.

“stop it,” you whisper, voice trembling. “stop trying to mess with me. i know who you are now and it isn’t the man i loved.”

dick lifts his head, not bothering to increase the distance between the two of you, allowing you to see the way his expression turns troubled. “i’m still me,” he mutters, careful not to let his fangs show as he pleads with you in the way he once did to earn your forgiveness. “i swear, that hasn’t changed.”

“you are not the man i loved,” you enunciate, tears stinging your eyes as you repeat your words to him like you do to yourself in the early hours of the morning when you can’t sleep.

dick’s expression darkens. he catches a stray tear with his finger and tilts his head. his voice is slightly colder now, more detached. “you still love me. i can feel it. but it’s alright, i’m a patient man.”

he drops a kiss to your cheek, where the tears threatened to flow before stepping backwards. “i’ll be back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reassuring you as if you’ve begged him to stay.

and with that, he’s gone. disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he had arrived.

you collapse to the ground, knife forgotten at your side. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

because this isn’t your dick grayson. you know deep down that your dick doesn’t have pale, ghostly skin that makes you flinch when he touches you. or fangs that glint menacingly when he talks.

but it’s a little hard to remember all those things when he looks at you with those eyes, that in the dimly lit bunker, look as lovingly at you as they used to.

a/n cont.; im gnawing at the gates of dick’s vampire manor begging to be let in so he can turn me… pick me, choose me, bite meeee🧛🏻🤍

[taraljc]

okay you guys here's what I remember from my 6th grade English class which also involved me reading every single book in the library on Greek mythology:

The biggest guns in 12 Olympians are the sons and daughters of Kronos the god of time. They fought the Titans and then took over their jobs but did a really shitty job in a lot of cases and they should have probably let Helios and the rest of the Titans alone. but Zeus had mad hate on for his dad Kronos and that's why they were banished to a prison in the underworld.

Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Demeter, Hestia were born of Kronos. Athene, Aphrodite, Ares, Hephaestas, Apollo and Artemis, and Hermes were born of pretty much mostly Zeus and sometimes Hera. We only really hear about Poseidon's kids when they're half human and do heroic shit. Recognising that their family are assholes and they want nothing to do with them, Hades and Persephone have dogs instead of kids and their dog is named Spot.

Iris is Hera's messenger. You can only see where she's been by the rainbow in the sky in her wake.

Hermes is a trickster and a thief and also a messenger. He also likes to tinker in his off time and create things like musical instruments and occasionally steals entire flocks of sheep for the lols.

Demeter is in charge of growing things and the harvest. For reasons that absolutely defy understanding, she hook up with Zeus that one time and they had a daughter. Persephone or Kore is the goddess of spring and the queen of the afterlife with her husband Hades. His realm includes all of the afterlife including the Elysian Fields.

Herakles is an asshole and should not have been included.

Dionysus is the god of wine, however you got to watch out for his groupies cos they might rip to pieces so that you're just a singing head for millennia.

Morpheus is the god of sleep, and he had a child with Calliope one of the muses whom they named Orpheus.

Mnemosyne is the goddess of memory, and the mother of Calliope and her sisters also called the muses.

In between hitting people with the dodgeball and turning women into trees, Apollo drives his chariot across the sky from dawn till dusk.

In between turning dudes into deer and driving her chariot across the sky from dusk till dawn, Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and patron and protector of single women.

Eris is is goddess of chaos, and should not be invited to any weddings.

Hestia is the goddess of the hearth and the home, and most importantly is in charge of fire.

Athene who had no mother but burst fourth full grown from Zeus's brow is goddess of strategy and she and Ares fucking hate each other like a whole lot.

Hephaestas was wed to Aphrodite but she cheated on him with Ares. Her son Eros the god of love is mostly famous for falling in love with Psyche, and then failing to protect her from his mother until the 11th hour.

The Fates are in charge of the whole ball of wax. they spin the thread, they weave the thread into the tapestry of time and existence and then they cut the thread when it has run its course. they're almost always betrayed as a triple goddess: maiden, mother, crone. Their names are Clotho the spinner, Lachesis the weaver, and Atropos who has the scissors and therefore the last word. Literally.

Another triple goddess motif are The Kindly Ones or the Erinyes, whose job it is to meet out justice. so if you spill family blood, you end up on their shit list. Their names are Alecto, Tisphone, and Megaera. They are fucking hardcore, and people in their crosshairs generally referred to them as The Furies.

I'm leaving out a lot. like a lot a lot. What's important to know is that these whackos were more inbred than the Habsburgs, and most human beings either tried to bribe them with sacrifices in their temples, or just stay the fuck out of their way because the gods do not care about anybody except the gods.

Also if you were really good with snakes and hit with the dodgeball of prophecy, as an Oracle your job was to tell people shit they don't want to know so that in trying to avert fate they'll end up creating the very situation they were trying to avoid.

One way that people tried to stay the hell out of the way was by becoming clergy. Unfortunately, when you dedicate your life to the service of one of the gods, this also put you in their crosshairs way too often particularly as Apollo thinks he is God's gift and is constantly recruiting lovers from his own temples. And if you said no, he just might curse you with that goddamn dodgeball with the kicker that no-one will ever believe you, which is what happened to Cassandra.

Even wise Athene would go off her head and turn you into a spider if you pissed her off. Pretty much the only dude that I can think of out of this entire bunch of miscreants who has never hurt anybody is Hestia. Which is probably why they leave her off the list all the time even though she is Hera and Demeter's sister and therefore one of the most powerful of the gods.

Anyway now you're all caught up! Go out there and read about Zeus having sex with way too many people occasionally while wearing a fursuit. And don't say you haven't been warned.

this website’s easy watch. *dangles a bunch of greek gods like keys*

[hyunjuenthusiast]

HEYAA

can i request a nsfw fic with hyun-ju x fem!reader where they have pent up hate with eachother and they hatefuck? and PLEAS PLEASE dom!hyun-ju!!

THANK YOU🫶🫶

I love this request! Although who tf could hate Hyun-ju?! Certainly not me. She's my wife! But I shall do my best✋🏻😌 this is longer than what was probably wanted but I was BORED.

NOT SO HATEFULL AFFECTION

Summary: The request listed above.

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, jealousy, enemies to lovers ... mentions of death, kind of slow burn.

Not an adult? Don't read.🔞

You watched as player 120 pressed the O, therefore voting to stay. She even has the audacity to look at Young-Mi as she walked to the blue side.

You caught her looking at you, and you gave her the meanest glare you could muster, making her look down a bit. Young-Mi stepped closer to you, looking up at you with those sad eyes before begging the players to let her go home, making you all the more upset at Hyun-ju.

When you and Young-Mi walked back to Ms. Geum-Ja and Yong-Sik's bunks, you glared scoffed as you saw Hyun-ju already sitting there. What a bitch, sitting with the people she betrayed.

You sat in front of her, with your back facing her. Young-Mi sat next to you, her eyes downcast to the floor. You almost cried at the sight, gently reaching over and holding her hand. "Everything will be okay, Young-Mi. I promise." You say to her softly, making her nod tearfully.

Hyun-ju obviously heard you because you can see her look away in shame from the corner of your eyes.

When Ms. Geum-Ja and her son return, the older woman asks Hyun-ju why. Why she would vote to stay and watch more people die.

You notice some of Young-Mi's tension eases at Hyun-ju's explanation. Telling Hyun-ju that she was beautiful, she even began calling her Unnie again. But not you. You couldn't shake the betrayal, even though you knew deep down, Hyun-ju wasn't being selfish. She wanted to be comfortable in her own skin.

So why did her betrayal hurt so much?

You could feel her gaze on your back, but you didn't acknowledge it, or her, in anyway.

The time for lights out came, and you lay on your uncomfortable bed. You can't get her explanation out of your head. You felt bad for being upset, but at the same time, fuck her, you know?

You practically jump out of your skin as you hear a soft voice from behind you.

"Y/n?" Hyun-ju says, making you tense. No. You weren't talking to her. You ignore her, hoping she'll think you're asleep. You hear her shuffle closer before you feel your bed dip. She's sitting by your legs.

She fiddles with her hands, like she usually does when she's nervous. "I-I know you're awake, Y/n, and I know you don't want to talk to me. I understand." She sniffles, making you slightly role your eyes. Crying wasn't going to make you forgive her.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers. "I knew I made a mistake the second I saw you and Young-Mi." She says. "I promise that in the next vote, I'll vote to leave." She says, hoping to make things right.

You turn your body, finally looking at her, your eyes cold. "In the next vote? What if you're dead by then? Huh? What if I or Young-Mi are dead by then? Or Ms. Geum-Ja or Yong-Sik? Christ, even Jun-Hee! She's fucking pregnant! Does surgery really mean more to you than our lives?" You ask her, giving her a tearful glare.

"You don't understand." She says softly, giving you pleading eyes. "You're right. I don't. I'll never understand how someone could be so cruel."

"Y/n please, I-I" you inturupt her. "Go fuck yourself, Hyun-ju." Turning back around, your back facing her once more.

You hear her sniffle as she walks away.

You all head to the next game, the others acting as if nothing happened. You listen as she apologizes to Young-Mi on the staircase, feeling a little hurt that the younger girl forgives her so easily.

You stand far away from her as Mingle begins. Even as she says that your group should stick together.

"SIX"

The voice says, making everyone scramble to find a group. Your group only had five until Hyun-ju grabbed the crazy witch lady, making six.

Running into a yellow room, you pant, a little put of shape. But everyone is safe. As you lean your body down, your hands gripping your knees, you feel a gentle hand rubbing your back soothingly.

Looking up, you see it's Hyun-ju. You quickly move away.

You step back as the shamen lady comes towards you.

"I know what festers in your lustful heart. There's no out running it. I suspect you'll give in any time now." She says, her eyes naturally crazy.

You look at her. "The fuck." You say, making Yong-Sik laugh, in return his mom hits his arm.

The door unlocks, and round 2 starts, then round 3, then round 4.

"EIGHT"

The voice shouts. You, Young-Mi, Yong-Sik, Ms. Geum-Ja, Hyun-ju, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho, and Gyeong-Seok all bolt to another yellow colored door, but there was already a group of people in there, you all look over when Hyun-ju shouts that she found an available room.

Running as fast as you all can to the green room, you let out a yelp as another player knocks you down. You quickly get up, looking around for your group, scared as the timer is at 7 seconds.

"Y/n!" You hear Hyun-ju yell, and you watch in horror as she races towards you, leaving behind everyone in the green room, when Gi-Hun and Young-il run into the room, making Eight, Hyun-ju quickly drags you to another one, one wich thankfully needed two other players, as soon as you both got it, the timer ran out.

She saved you. But at what cost. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" you scream at her, not caring about the other players in the room. "THEY WOULD HAVE DIED! YOU SELFISH FUCK!" You yell, hitting her chest. She allows it. Maybe if you let out some of that pent-up anger, you would feel better.

"I saved you. You wanted me to just leave you behind?" She asks, clearly irritated. "YES! Everyone would have died, Hyun-ju! EVERYONE."

"They didn't. And you're still breathing. That's all that matters." She says, making you falter. She goes to hold your hand, but you pull it back.

After the doors unlock, you quickly hug Young-Mi, apologizing to everyone for almost causing them to lose.

The final round begins.

"TWO"

The voice says, you look to Young-Mi, but she's already being dragged away by Gyeong-seok. You let out a sound of surprise as Hyun-ju picks you up, racing to an empty room.

She holds the door, making sure no other players get in. You're slightly shaken. The stress finally getting to you. You hear the door lock and Hyun-ju catches her breath. "Are you okay?" She asks softly, this time you nod, no hostility.

You look at her tearfully. "T-Thank you" she just gives you a reassuring smile.

Back at the bunks, you're zoned out, not really paying attention to what Ms. Geum-Ja is saying. You slightly jump as you feel someone touch your shoulder, looking up, it's Yong-Sik. "You gonna eat that?" He asks, eyeing your kimbop.

Thankful for the laugh, you hand it to him. You don't have an appetite anyway.

Hyun-ju gives you a disapproving look, walking over and sitting down next to you. She holds up her food, offering you some, you just shake your head, making her scoff.

"Stop being so stubborn, take it." She says. You just shake your head once more. "M'not hungry." You whisper, your voice a bit horse.

The guards make an announcement that it's time to use the bathroom, the woman go first. You walk behind Hyun-ju.

Some women give her strange looks, but Ms. Geum-Ja is quick to shut that shit down. You don't even use the bathroom, only sitting and crying silently. Letting out some of the fear and anger you have.

Not realizing that almost everybody was gone. Almost everybody. Hyun-ju gently knocks on the stall door. "Y/n, are you okay?"

You quickly wipe your tears. "I'm fine," you lie. You can hear her sigh. "Are you decent?" She asks, making your eyebrows furrow. "Umm yes?"

You're baffled at how easily she gets the door open. You're about to question her before she kneels in front of you.

You tense as she reaches up and caresses your cheek, wiping away all the tears you missed. "It's okay, sweet girl." She whispers, which causes more tears to form in your eyes.

Your lip quivers. "D-Do you promise?" You ask, your voice trembling. She gives you a questioning look. "Do I promise what, sweetness?"

You sniffle. "Do you promise you'll vote to leave this time?" She visibly melt. "I promise, Y/n."

"I'm still angry with you." You say, a small pout on your lips, making her smile softly.

"Let me make it up to you?" She asks, making you cock your head.

"How are you going to do th-" She inturupts you, pressing her lips gently to yours. You pull away with a gasp as you feel her tongue trace your bottom lip. "What are you doing?!" You whisper.

"I'm making it up to you. Let me make you feel good, sweet girl. You deserve it." You back away as she tries to kiss you again."You can't just expect me to forgi-" She kisses you again. This time, her tongue makes its way into your mouth.

You pant as she kisses her way down your neck, her hands reaching to the bottom of your shirt marked 005. "Can I take this off, Sweetness? Hmm? We don't have much time." She says, her voice lustful. You nod quickly.

Your shirt is discarded on the floor, and she takes in the sight of your breasts in your dark purple bra. She waists not time ripping it off, literally. Making you gasp! "Hyun-ju! I can't get another one!" She only chuckles. "Good, that means I'll get to enjoy the view until we get out of here."

Your head rolls back as she suckles one of your nipples, only to wince as she bites gently. "Don't look away, pretty girl, if you look away I'll stop." She says firmly.

You huff, but keep your eyes trained on her. "I hate you and your porcelain cap teeth," you mumble as she bites down again.

"Be nice to me, baby. Or I'll treat you like the brat you are." She says making you roll your eyes in return. She doesn't like that.

"Stand up, put your hands in the seat, and bend over," She says, standing up herself. "Ew no, that's unsanitary-" She pulls you up, putting you in the position she wants. "Count" She says.

"W-what?" You ask, but yelp as she suddenly spanks your ass. "Ow! What the f-"

"I said count." She growls.

....."one"

When she reaches 10 you almost start crying, she's fucking strong.

"Are you going to be a good girl? Or do you want some more?" She asks, rubbing the cheek she just spanked. "I-Ill be a good girl!" You say quickly. You can't even imagine how much more it would've hurt if she had pulled your pants down.

As a reward, she slowly reaches her hand to the front of your pants. "Is this okay?" She whispers, making you nod. Her hand slowly goes past the barrier of your panties.

"You're so wet." She chuckles. "The little brat is a masochist." You blush, and gasp as you feel her fingers start to rub circles on your clit, but whine when she stops.

She only turns you around, guiding your back against the stall wall and putting her hand right back into your panties.

God, she's good with her fingers....but you won't feed her ego by telling her that. You let out a small moan, closing your eyes, relishing in the pleasure.

She quickly stops again. "What did I say about looking away?" She asks, her voice firm.

You whine, quickly opening your eyes. "I-Im sorry!" She gives you a glare.

"You will be." She says as she pulls down her pants, revealing her cock. Your eyes widen. How the actual fuck was THAT supposed to fit inside you.

"Take off your pants, and pull down your panties. Now." She commands and you do.

You're a little shy when pulling down your panties and slow, so she yanks them down. Putting them in her pocket. "These are mine now." She says darkly.

She waists no time, slapping her thick cock against your clit. "F-Fuck, please!" You say, giving her a pleading look.

She pushes only the tip in before taking it back out, repeating that until you're practically crying. "Please!" She chuckles. "You want my cock, don't you baby?" She asks, leaning down to nibble at your neck. "Yes y-yes please Hyun-ju!" You beg.

Your breath is knocked out of your lungs as she gives one thrust forward, bottoming out in one stroke. Fuck she was big. You felt so full.

"What's the matter, sweetness? Hmm?" She mocks as she pulls alost all the way out, slamming back in. "FUCK!" You scream, already knowing she's going to bruise your cervix.

"You're such a slut. Letting an older woman fuck you." She says, moaning into your ear. You cling to her, thinking it wasn't fair that you were the only naked one.

You go to beg, but only whimpers escape your lips. "Oh poor baby, I've already fucked you dumb. Hmm?" She mocks, reaching down to rub your clit.

"You've been such a good little slut for me, go ahead...show me how much you love my cock. Cum for me." She says, her voice pure sex. "F-Fuck H-Hyun-ju!" You say as you get closer and closer.

"Cum for me Y/n. Now." She says as her thrusts start to get sloppy. When she leans down, taking your nipple into her mouth once more, you let go. Screaming in ecstacy as you clench around her twitching cock.

"Fuck yeah baby, just like that" She says, finding her own release inside you.

You both pant as you calm down. She reaches for the toilet paper, gently cleaning you up, helping you pull your pants back up, and putting your shirt back on.

"W-Wait my underwear!" You say, making her smirk. "I told you...those are mine now."

I got this request a HOT minute ago, but I hope this delivers 🙏🏻😭 I tried to make it as hateful as I could ✋🏻💀