#maybe next time.... mix n match

[lokh]

you know that redraw meme going around

[redeemingvillains]

of magic & mayhem - mattheo riddle

summary: the strongest wizard of your age also happens to be hogwarts' playboy, and when he sets his sights on you, you realize neither of you have a choice in the matter.

word count: 3k

a/n: this is like nine of my concepts all mashed into one! heavily influenced by my re-read of fourth wing in preparation for onyx storm coming out, anyone who wants to scream about that in my inbox, please do <3

The Great Hall echoed with the excited chatter of friends and classmates and the general cacophony of breakfast; the sounds of scraping cutlery and the clink of dishes and goblets. You and Pansy sat in genial silence as you read your book and she eyed the gossip column of the Daily Prophet.

You were so totally transfixed on your book that you didn't see the looming figure in front of you until he placed his hands on the oak table and leaned casually across it into your airspace.

"Good morning" he drawled smoothly in a deep voice that caused you to glace up only to see Mattheo Riddle's large amber eyes twinkling at you, matched with a smirk that made you feel like you had pixies in your stomach.

You could smell his cologne from this distance, an undeniable mix of woodsmoke, evergreen and cinnamon that made you feel heady.

"Pansy" he acknowledged, nodding at her as she glanced up at him with a surprise that matched your own.

"Mrs. Riddle" he said, acknowledging you as his electric gaze found yours. You felt a deep blush on your cheeks, even as your face scrunched in confusion and your eyes searched his face for a hint of a joke, finding none.

"What did you just call me?" you asked, cocking your head. As much as you tried to supress it, a small smile graced your lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

"What?" he said in mock surprise. "You don't like it? I think it's perfect."

A pause.

"It suits you" he said confidently. He winked at you as your eyebrows shot up and he turned and walked away without another word.

You turned to look at Pansy who was open-mouthed gaping after him before turning to look at you.

"What was that!?" she exclaimed, excited, like you knew something she didn't.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes despite the hammering of your heart in your chest.

"He's a complete flirt, Pans, I'm not putting a lot of weight in whatever he's woken up and decided to say today."

But even as the words came out of your mouth, you couldn't help but feel excited that you'd caught his attention, even if you knew how delicately dangerous it could be.

"But Mrs. Riddle?! Please. I am dying oh my gods!" she said.

"No, we're not even thinking about this. Not unless you want to listen to me cry myself to sleep in three weeks when I've completely fallen for him and he's moved on to someone else. We all know how this goes and I'm not stupid enough to fall for it."

Pansy pursed her lips as she bounced in her seat with excitement, like she was going to explode.

"Okay, but maybe, just hear me out—" she started.

"—No" you said emphatically, as much to her as to yourself.

She stuck her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture.

It was no secret you were sought after; you had your fair share of dates and suitors. And it was no secret that Mattheo Riddle took the concept of incredibly hot fuckboy to another level, which is why, despite his comment and increasingly insistent stares you kept your distance.

Try as you might to forget what he said, or the way his dark eyes had twinkled mischievously as they drank you in, you found your thoughts drifting to him more times than you'd care to admit, and he had no intention of making it any easier for you, because now every time he saw you, he made a point of using your new nickname.

"Good morning, Mrs. Riddle" he said as he passed you in the Great Hall the next day.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Riddle!" he shouted from the opposite side of the common room, which garnered a significant amount of attention and whispers.

"Let me get the door for you, Mrs. Riddle" he said, pushing your classmates out of the way to do so.

"Mmm, gorgeous as ever, Mrs. Riddle" he whispered walking by you in the library in a way that felt like the words themselves danced over every inch of your body.

Pansy was nearly inconsolable over the situation, egging it on eagerly and even picking it up herself.

"Good night, Mrs. Riddle" she said to you as you crawled into bed in your shared dormitory.

"Lay off it, Pansy! Gods" you replied, even as you grinned like an idiot to yourself.

But then she wasn't the only one.

After less than a week of it, the rumor spread like fiendfyre and now Mattheo's friends were smirking at you in the corridor, waving teasingly to you in the common room and offering you every ounce of preferential treatment befitting of the name: knocking Potter off his chair when he took your seat in Potions, forcing a first-year to stand outside your dormitory holding your favorite latte every morning, and ensuring you had a coveted first row seat at their quidditch matches, including the House Cup, which you were excitedly getting ready for when Pansy burst into your room.

"You will never guess what I just heard" she said, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"What's that?" you asked, humoring her frenetic energy.

"Astoria Greengrass having a sob in the girls lav. You know how she and Mattheo have hooked up a few times?—"

You didn't, in fact, know that and couldn't help the pang of jealousy that gripped your chest.

"—Well I heard her telling Penelope Clearwater that he says he doesn't want to anymore and he told Harmony Norman and Maria Warner the same thing!"

Your face tangled in disgust.

"How many girls is he hooking up with? And why do you look so happy about it? What a mess…" you said, sighing as you turned to resume your makeup.

"Why, all of a sudden is he breaking all of them off, hmm?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at you in your mirror.

"I don't know" you said shiftily. "Maybe he's trying to be a better person?!—"

"—Or maybe he has his eyes set on someone else?!" she said insistently. "You know, someone he's given a special nickname to, his name to?"

You opened your mouth to argue with her but you couldn't deny the logic of her statement.

The boys pulled it off, sweeping Gryffindor in the House Cup for the first time in years and the ensuing celebration was electric.

The music in the common room was loud enough to sway the chandeliers in the ceiling, to feel the bass vibrating in your body.

Every Slytherin you knew and quite a few friends from other houses were there, the normally cavernous room filled in a way that made it feel like some sort of night club, bodies covering every inch of space, melding and weaving between each other and raising the temperature of the normally dank dungeon air.

You couldn't help but search the flashing lights and otherwise utter chaos for Mattheo and you didn't have to look for long the way he stood a head taller than almost everyone in the room, even surrounded by his large teammates; not to mention the way they were walking around like kings, taking turns chugging champagne out of their trophy, raucous, rowdy and loud as people cheered around them.

Mattheo himself was in rare form, his handsome curls were slightly askew and his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol and general liveliness of the night. He was dressed in a fitted black tshirt and dark pants and was exuding an energy that was magnetic, even from where you were standing; undeniably, your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of him.

Had you gotten a little dressed up? Of course. It was a celebration, an occasion, why wouldn't you? But as you wound through the sea of bodies, fingers twined in Pansy's, you garnered enough stares and double-takes that had you thinking you may have slightly overdone it.

"Oh, okay queen!" Pansy had said the minute she'd seen your outfit, the way you'd done your makeup and styled your hair, knowing, perhaps, exactly what or who had been on your mind.

You stopped to grab a drink and your cup had barely touched your lips before two guys came up to you that you recognized vaguely from the year below you. They were admittedly cute and you smiled as they compliment you and chatted with you. You leaned in closer to hear them over the music and the crowd and the one closest to you ducked his head toward you when you felt a tingle run from the base of your neck down your spine and a large, warm hand wound its way around your waist, pulling you firmly backwards into what felt like a pliable brick wall. You were startled for only a moment until you caught the undeniable scent of evergreen, of cinnamon.

"Brian is it? Blake? Blaire? Why don't you go get a drink, buddy?" his voice rumbled near your ear, more of a command than a suggestion as Bradley's eyes shot up over your shoulder to the shadow looming there and nodded quickly, retreating.

"Aww" you pouted sarcastically as you turned around. "He was nice, we were having fun!"

You met Mattheo's eyes which were so dark they looked nearly jet black as they glared at you. Had he been jealous?

And like he could read your mind his lip twitched and he rolled his eyes.

"Even if he had a chance with you, which, let's be very clear, he doesn't, he wouldn't know what to do with it."

"And, let me guess, you would?" you asked teasingly.

"Care to find out?" he asked matter-of-factly.

You felt a wave wash over you from your head to your toes, your body tingling with his proximity, with the way his eyes met yours directly, unfaltering despite the myriad distractions around him.

Gods yes you thought, even as you bit your bottom lip, teetering on the edge of a decision you knew you couldn't come back from.

His eyes shamelessly fell to your lips and you suddenly realized that his hands had never left you as they flexed at your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was holding onto you for purchase.

"C'mon" he said, not waiting for a coherent reply from you, which you may never have been able to form had he kept looking at you that way.

His hands left your body only long enough to tangle his fingers in yours and hold them tightly, pulling you behind him as he headed into the sea of bodies on the dance floor, weaving between some as others offered him a wide berth and a congratulations when they realized who he was.

Then, like he was moving in slow motion, he turned to face you, twining your fingers further in his as he pulled you into him, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you were flush to his chest, and his other hand found your waist again, his grip firm and unyielding as he held you to him as if you would argue or try to be anywhere but right here.

You could feel every dip and curve of his body against yours as you moved against each other in a way that felt perfect and also not nearly enough, even though you couldn't get any closer.

You let the hand on his shoulder wander to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into the curls there and even though the music was loud enough that you could barely hear yourself think, you could feel as much as hear the growl that released in his chest as his hands tightened on you in a way you were certain would leave a bruise.

The lights flickered for just a second, and a few people stopped dancing and shouted but his eyes never left yours, the only acknowledgement he offered, a small grimace on his face, which made you want to kiss his lips back into his irritatingly perfect smirk.

He leaned in, pressing his cheek to yours as his lips hovered to your ear.

"You look stunning, Mrs. Riddle."

He leaned back and you could see his signature smirk gracing his lips again. You opened your mouth to reply as your eyes met his, but your head was swimming at this point. Everything was him all at once, his body against yours, taught and warm to your touch, his breath on you that smelled like cinnamon gum, his cologne, you felt yourself melting into him at his words, closing the only remaining inches between your hips as your hands came to his face and your noses brushed — and then the lights went out in earnest, drowning you in complete darkness.

"Fuck" you heard him mutter strongly before grasping your hand in his as he started to pull you through the imperceptible forms of people who were yelling and shouting, blazing a path through them, pushing people aside brusquely where necessary. He was on a war path and your feet moved quicky to follow him as he cleared most of the crowd and headed directly for the boys dormitory.

He pulled you into a maze of adjoining corridors before swiping his hand causing an approaching door to fly open as he pulled you in behind him. You were barely through it before he swiped his hand again and it slammed closed behind you, forcefully, the energy pouring off of him in a way that reminded you just how strong of a wizard he was, and exactly why absolutely nobody fucked with him.

He turned to you finally, his chest rising and falling as he gripped your waist and pushed you gently against the closed door with a thud. He let his other hand rest beside your head, caging you in. The look of lust on his face was still there, tangled with the same grimace from before, like he was angry, like he was holding something in.

"Mattheo...?" you whispered and he ducked his head away from you, his eyes squeezing shut as the hand at your waist squeezed again, the touch sending an electric tingle up your side that made you gasp.

His gaze came back to you and then he was leaning in, his nose brushing yours again and your hands came to wind around his neck. You caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips as they hovered over yours, barely grazing them, and you could feel static electricity there between you, the air itself alight with energy, vibrating. The temptation was driving you mad, your chest visibly rising and falling against his own and then his lips fell to yours, warm, soft and urgent.

He took your face in his hands and pressed you into the door and you hummed against him. The lights in the room flickered once, then twice, and then rapidly like you were in a horror film before they went out completely, drenching you both in a velvet darkness that was somehow welcoming, like you could feel the shadows themselves dancing over your body, caressing you, enveloping you.

You felt his tongue against your bottom lip and you opened up to him. Your tongued flicked against his and a freezing gust of wind blew papers, books and quills off his desk, hurling them to the ground with a clatter and bang. Mattheo never stopped, his tongue continued to glide over yours and he kissed you like it was the last godsdamn thing he'd ever do.

He hoisted you up so your legs wrapped around his waist and he pressed you back into the door before releasing your lips just long enough to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck that he lavished in a way you were certain there would be a violet bruise in the morning.

Your eyes fluttered in pleasure, lost in him for a moment until you caught sight of the room around you and you froze.

It was midnight black but for the moonlight coming through the window which cast everything in a ghostly shade of white, but what caught your eye was that every object in the room was floating, adrift in the air, the bed, the desk, the bookshelf, all hovering feet off the ground. Lightweight objects like clothing, quills and his books floated higher and higher and then you realized that it was cold enough to see your breath in front of you.

"Mattheo" you breathed, trying to get his attention. Your hand carded through his curls and the chair in the corner took flight.

Wait. Was this him?

"Mrs. Riddle?" he murmured in your neck.

"Mattheo" you said again, a stronger urgency in your voice causing him to relent and look up at you with a puff of air of his own.

"Fuck" he said. "It's – yeah. That's me. Well, that's you actually."

"What?"

"S'no secret that my magic is ... strong. And I'm well practiced at controlling it. With... one exception."

He took your hand and placed it over his chest where you could feel his heart hammering.

You searched his eyes and his eyebrow quirked until he gestured to his room. As if to say 'see?'

This boy had quite literally lost his control at your touch.

"Wait, the lights? The music?" you asked, a small smile on your lips at the realization.

"When you touched me, I just—" he shook his head, exhaling another puff of cold air. "—See what you do to me, Mrs. Riddle?" he said.

"Gods, when are you going to stop calling me that?" you laughed, even as you looked at him and traced a finger over his lips.

"When it's true" he said simply.

You looked confused for a moment until he leaned into you again, his magic radiating off of him.

"What?" you breathed.

"When you're mine, and it's official and I won't have to spend all of my free time reminding everyone you're mine, they'll know. Until then, I'll hedge my bets."

He kissed you.

"Mmpf, but what if I didn't want you to stop?" you murmured against him.

He pulled back to look at you, scanning your face for any sign of a joke, and finding none as your eyes connected with his and his lip quirked in a smile.

"Well, princess,” he whispered against your lips, ghosting them with his, teasing you before biting your bottom lip gently in a way that sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the freezing air.

“Whatever Mrs. Riddle wants—” he murmured, kissing you fully, luxuriously, “—Mrs. Riddle gets.”

ˋ°•*⁀➷ EPILOGUE

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner

[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

pt.1* next

—synopsis. mandy invites you to hangout with some of her friends. christmas vlog vid

notes 🫧: guys i need hamzah bad

— 🐞

you sighed with content as you finally landed on an outfit you liked. it was a plain long sleeve with a pair of loose dark wash jeans, you weren’t sure what everyone else would be wearing so you picked something simple.

your phone buzzed, mandy asking if you were on your way to her house. you sent her a voice message as you threw on your coat and grabbed your keys along with your purse and phone.

mandy had invited you over to hang out with her, martin, and hamzah and his friends, who you knew from 4freakshow.

you'd never met chase and claire before, but you've hung out with martin and hamzah a few times with mandy.

you met her when she was in nursing school, becoming friends after a few awkward encounters. she introduced you to martin and after a while you met hamzah, in person at least, since the two of you already followed each other.

you parked your car outside their house and adjusted your lip gloss in the rearview. you were a little nervous for some reason. maybe it was the fact that you were late, maybe it was the new people you were meeting, or maybe it was the vlog.

you have your own youtube channel but being apart of other people's videos always made you feel a little awkward.

you texted mandy that you arrived and headed for the front door, martin opening it before you could knock.

"someone's a little late" martin joked as he let you inside. "oh my god i forgot you guys went bald. that was a freaking jumpscare." you teased.

mandy came up to give you a hug "i know, they look insane. i did not approve." she said  before you were introduced to chase and claire. chase walked up with the camera, focused on you. "hi youtube" you stuck out your tongue.

"now that y/n is finally here, the trio outfit is complete." claire handed you a set of pajamas, matching the ones her and mandy had on. you grinned and complimented the set before hamzah came out from the back hallway.

"oh hey, didn't know you got here already" he dapped you up. "boi yes you did, literally went to the bathroom to fix his hair" claire teased. "oh wait..." chase joined in, making you laugh.

"i don't know why he's got this freaking tuque on anyways. embrace the bald dude, embrace the skin." martin pulled his beanie down and rubbed hamzah's bald head, urging hamzah to push him away.

"yo! he just fucking sniffed me" hamzah laughed, grabbing his beanie from his hand. "we're just cucking the viewers i guess" martin said, leaving everyone just staring at him awkwardly.

"yeah anyways, y/n you could go change in my room" mandy told you. "heh, just be careful what you find in there" martin leaned into a shrug. "dude stop" hamzah flicked his hand over martin's head.

once you were changed, chase made you do a twirl for the camera and you posed before tripping out.

"so how come y/n gets a pajama set, but you said no to me?" martin asked mandy. "cause she's one of the girls and you're not a girl"

"plus nobody told you to wear them freak ass leggings boi" hamzah teased him and you laughed. he looked over at you, taking in the fact that he made you laugh.

hamzah always thought you were really pretty and cool, even back when you first followed each other during the 4freakshow days. you didn't even have a youtube channel back then, only posting random tiktoks he thought were funny.

"alright y'all let's get to baking, i'm hungry" chase said behind the camera before flipping it towards him.

you stood next to hamzah as claire pulled up the recipe on her tiktok and her, mandy, and chase got started on measuring things out.

“you can’t just do it willy nilly style brah, measure it” you told martin as he began pouring sugar into the mix. “sometimes you have to live life on the edge, y/n” martin scoffed.

as you continued baking the cookies, you realized how glad you were that you decided to come. martin and hamzah were always a hoot but you really liked claire and chase too.

“noo it was my legs and he said ‘you’re scratching your ass’” claire defended herself from chase and hamzah’s teasing. “girl no i was right behind you”

“we’re having booty cookies” “we got fucking booty flavor” you and hamzah joked at the same time, causing you to crack up and slap his arm.

you took your hand off, not expecting his bicep to be so strong. he nudged you with his elbow, still laughing.

“so, are you actually gonna help bake, y/n?” chase playfully raised his eyebrow. “right, standing here doing nothing” hamzah added. “oh bitch says you, who’s actually done nothing. mr. nonchalant baldhead.” you joked, grabbing the camera from chase and putting it in hamzah’s face.

“boi get outta here boi” he laughed.

while the cookies baked, you guys moved on to putting up the christmas tree. you sat down with chase and claire and began unfolding the branches of the tree. hamzah followed suit, taking a seat on the floor next to you.

rudy walked up to hamzah, who grabbed him with one hand under his belly and placed him in his lap. “awww rudy, who’s a cutie cootie coo. ah poochy poochy poo” you reached over hamzah’s leg to pet the dog.

you scratched behind his ear, unknowing of hamzah staring at you while you did it. “alright let’s put in some freaking work guys” claire said and hamzah lifted rudy into the couch behind him.

“why do you literally manhandle everything that comes your way?” you teased. “like in the video where you’re flinging around fish” hamzah just chuckled in response.

“wait chase, i like your leggings” claire said from behind the camera. “what these aren’t leggings?”

“i’m just saying i’ve never seen a boy wear leggings, it’s a compliment”

“they’re not leggings, they’re thermals! they’re long johns..long johns?” martin retorted, displaying his leg out in front of the other. “you’re wearing fucking leggings”

you and hamzah stifled your laughs in the corner as they continued and martin teared up, walking off with the camera as a bit. “claire you actually made him cry” you giggled.

you felt hamzah lean himself closer to you, taking advantage of the laughing fit everyone was in.

after a while, the cookies were done as you finished decorating the tree, adding a little christmas bunny along with everyone else’s personalized ornaments.

you turned around to hamzah manspreading on the couch, trying to ignore your thoughts about how sexy it was and followed everyone else into the kitchen.

you all iced the cookies before doing a taste test, “boi crumbl cookie could neverrrr” you joked, as the cookies actually turned out bad. “this shit is way too sweet oh my god” hamzah said, spitting his into the trash. “ew dude have some manners” martin scolded him.

once mandy ended the vlog, you all lounged around her living room until you got a emergency text from your roommate.

“bruh, my roommate messed up something with our dryer. i have to go” you frowned. “awww noooo” chase frowned with you. “it was really nice meeting you” he said. “yeah, you’re funny as fuck” claire added. “oh i love you” you hugged her before getting your coat off the rack.

“im so glad you actually came” mandy said. “well thanks for inviting me” you playfully stuck out your tongue. “i’ll see you next time we hang out in like four to six weeks” you said, sarcastically. “ugh tell me about it” she smiled as you dapped martin.

hamzah came out from the bathroom, “you’re leaving?” he asked. “yeah my roommate needs help” you pressed your lips together. “oh…..it was cool seeing you though” he dapped you up, pulling you into a small hug. “you too” you smiled, holding his hand a little longer before your phone buzzed again.

“anyways merry christmas and happy holidays everyone! byeeeee” you closed the door behind you and head for your car.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantastic and others

lvryn mini dump 💩

user omg is she the reason hamzah was acting so mysterious this video

user yall saw the way they were so close to each other this video

user love your whole life 😍

— 🐞

[mxxnechos]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ red marks

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. I won’t lie about that LMAO, I don’t know if this happens to other skin tones, so I am terribly sorry it won’t be as inclusive as I want it to be (I try and make my writing as inclusive as possible for anyone!!). I am white and my skin is very sensitive when I scratch it, so this is very common for me, so I apologise for those who are looking for inclusive skin tone stuff :(

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader in mind, though Jaybin does use “ma” because even if I’m agender, I have a soft spot for him saying that

genre: fluff, kind of slice of life

words: 1k -- should be okay but tell me if there's any mistakes I missed!!

summary: Jason spots red marks on your skin, gets super worried, and won’t stop asking if you’re okay.

art on the right is by @/ciricearts & dividers by @/saradika!!

You stood in your kitchen, scratching your upper arm for what would be now for the better part of 5 minutes. The noise of sharp yet shorter nails running against skin filled the room, or more so your ears, as you waited for that faint ding of your microwave. The milk filled mug turning in circles as you absentmindedly waited for the timer to hit zero, your fingers running over your skin without you realising. Hot chocolate was always nice company while you waited for Jason to come home. Your brain was starting to blank out more and more while the soft electronic hum of the microwave mixed in with the sound of nails against skin, your eyes slowly losing focus on the dark wooden floor. Maybe you could—

Ding!

Your hand stops its constant up and down motion on your arm, your nails scratching the skin for one last time before you moved off of the counter to retrieve your mug. Your mind blanked once more between the time you got the cocoa and sugar, and the time you were already sipping on your finished drink. And then Jason was back.

He’s tired. He’s tired and he wants to be in your arms more than anything. But at least he’s home soon. At least he’s only tired and not badly hurt. And as soon as he’s held safely in your arms, he’ll be home.

Now, Jason just wanted to go back to your apartment, change and shower, and have the best sleep next to you. But then, of course, some stuff had to go a bit sideways (he’s being a bit dramatic).

What he comes back to instead is your gorgeous self in the kitchen, mug in hand, with big, red, extremely red, marks on your arm. It was worrying. Your skin flaked off a bit, and was red. And his mind went off.

“Sweetheart?” His voice came out a bit cracked as he hurriedly took his helmet off and placed on your table. He was quick to be by your side, your arm gently held by his hands, as if you were a precious jewel he was trying everything in his power to not damage.

You, mind still somewhat blank, shook awake out of your trance. A smile came up on your face as you set the mug down.

“Hi Jayjay,” you spoke softly, your voice portraying perfectly your tiredness. “How was patrol? Are you hurt?” A small worry took over your face, but you knew he’d be acting worse if he was badly hurt.

“Sweets, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter if I’m hurt,” his voice was pure worry, his eyes and body the same. “You’re hurt, what happened to your arm? Does it hurt a lot? We should put ice and cream on it. How’d you get it? Did someone do that? I swear to everything if someone did—” He’d started rambling, moving around the kitchen as his hurried words matched his hurried movements. He’s looking around cabinets and drawers, looking for that cream he’d mentioned, though it never resided in the kitchen to begin with. You just stared at him in confusion, unsure of what he was rambling about. Once his anger came out, showing that side of him that would about hurt anyone for you, you cut him off with a soft sweet laugh. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at you.

“I’m serious ma, did someone hurt you?” He asked again, a pout on his lips, though his demeanour had softened because of your laugh.

“Jay, hun, I have no idea what you’re on about,” a small sheepish smile formed on your face, as he frowned again. “Your arm, ma.”

You looked down at your arms, finding one significantly more red than the other, accompanied with some scratch marks. You were stunned, because when did that get here? You stared down at it for a moment, all the while Jason’s worry was worsening.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt ma?” He asked once more, before jumping back into action. “I need to find you that cream.” He hurriedly started looking through the drawers with a determination to not see you hurting anymore.

You kept staring at your arms as the puzzle pieces clicked together in your mind. And when the picture was done, you couldn’t help yourself but laugh.

You tried calling out to him through your laughs, though he wouldn’t listen.

“No, no! You’re hurt ma, can’t let you be hurt.”

“Jay— Jay, please look at me,” you said between giggles. “Jason.”

Hearing his full name made him stop and turn to you with a pout. You’d so rarely use his full name, it was always a nickname, a pet name, anything different. You’d only use it when he had to listen to you.

“Yeah?” He mumbled quietly, looking at you with that sad pout on his face, his voice so full of worry and care. His boyishness always came out in moments like this.

“Oh hun,” you chuckled, taking a step towards him to cradle his face in your hands. He leaned in on instinct. “I was just scratching my arm, see?” You smiled sweetly, demonstrating it by running your nails against your forearm. Few seconds after, and red-ish scratch marks appeared on your skin, following the path your nails took. Your hands found his cheeks again, as you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m okay, baby.”

Jason gently gripped your forearms as he leaned in closer to you. He gently turned your arm around to examine the marks, who were already disappearing, the big splotch of red on your upper arm already almost entirely faded, to a much lighter colour. Only then did he let out a big breath, wrapped his big arms around your waist, and buried his head deep in the crook of your neck, now breathing you in. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand slowly racking through his hair.

You both stayed like that for a while, holding each other, breathing them in.

…

“Can’t believe you got scared because I had an itch.”

“Shut uppppppppppp”

A long playfully annoyed groan merged with laughter in the quietness of the apartment.

again, this is entirely self-indulgent lmao, this happens to me way too much, I'll barely scratch my skin and then there's red marks on my skin for a good MINUTE, it's annoyinggggggg

I hope you guys enjoyed it, even if it isn't as inclusiv as it could be (which I am again sorry for)

I've been gone for a short minute, real sorry, I've been super busy with school and I essentially shouldn't even have been writting this in the first place considering I'm in exam season but I couldn't help myselfffffff

also!! I'm finally going to be properly setting up my blog soon, so that's going to be fun!! stay tuned for that I guess, and more stories because I wrote this in a day which is considerably really short for me :P

© mxxnechos -- please do not repost, modify, translate, plagiarise, or feed my content into AI. All likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are deeply appreciated!!

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 5.

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The library was quiet when you walked in. Since it was still early in the morning many people hadn't shown up yet. Your luck of finding a tutor were slim right now. It was best to start independent so you could tell a tutor what you needed to learn more about anyway.

You wonder the shelves contemplating where to begin. Maybe the computers to look up what fourth grade standards? Didn't those vary though? Okay maybe you should have goaded your 'family' into telling you were the 'boarding school' was supposedly base. Science sounded like a good option. It used a mix of math and reading comprehension.

You had to choose a science fourth grades typically learned, though. Honestly you wished you could just pick any science and say the school had specialized classes. However you didn't know what type of boarding school Bruce claimed you went to. The slightest misstep and your siblings would alert him that something was up.

Being realistic Bruce could send you back at anytime. By playing into his lies, you would appear compliant or like you don't suspect he was involved. That could buy you time. If it seemed like you were truly trying to integrate back into the family and not expose the experiments, he might let you stay for a little longer. Why get rid of someone if their potential as a threat was limited by their ignorance?

For now you need to match the cover story. Whatever books were labeled fourth grade level than. Maybe a few fifth grade books. You had implied that you were doing more advanced work. Maybe you could safely make the claim that you were placed in advance classes. They had been talking about those during your last year at Gotham prep.

The kids section was full of basic cartoon style books. You browsed a few before frowning. Most of the information was the bare bone minimum. Half the books mark 4th grade level only covered surface level knowledge.

You pulled out a book on human anatomy and almost bursted out laughing. The drawings were over simplifications of the organs, nothing compared to how they really looked. Slimy, covered in veins, shades of pink or gray you didn't expect once the blood was removed. That thought brought back a haunting memory. You shoved the book back on the shelf. Medical research would come later.

Grabbing any books that caught your attention, you headed over to a secluded area. Most of the information was basic understand. Yes, you learned some new things and were fairly certain your reading comprehension was ay the appropriate level. But there was nothing involving math. "Maybe a few tutors have shown up or a librarian can help me call one."

Standing back up you wondering over to the librarian desk. No one was there. You yet out a heavy sigh. Oh course they weren't there, that was just your luck.

"Hello, are you looking for something?" You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Spinning around you saw a woman with long dark brown hair and green eyes. She carried herself confidently but some part of you screamed the she was capable of violence.

"I was looking into what's available in terms of math tutoring. Maybe social studies or history if that's an options." You angled you body away from her.

She laughed slightly more to herself than you. There was a gleam in her eye, like she was impressed by her assessment. "Well you're in luck. I happened to home schooled my own son in math and know a lot of teachers. What do you need to know?"

"Pretty much everything above adding and subtracting." You scowled down at the books in your arms. It they had and hadn't been useful. Maybe you should take advantage of this woman's help. You needed a tutor, it shouldn't matter who it was also long as your family didn't find out. "What’s your name?"

"I'm Talia." She crouched down to your level and held out a hand. You stopped thinking.

Talia.

The woman mentioned in your mother's diary. It couldn't be. Though she mentioned having a son. No Talia might have been an older flame and Damian's mother had a different name. Maybe you had been to quick to get in a fight with him. Now you couldn't ask him about his mother. What if he sent her to spy on you because you had pissed him off? Not good, really not good.

"I'm (Fake Name)." You gave her the wrong name and watched. If Damian had sent her, she would probably already know your name. So by giving her the wrong one you could figure what she already knew about you. It wouldn't be through her words or actions. No the hints would be subtle. Some kind of disappointment or a sign she felt slighted.

Yet her face remain pleasant. That slight hint of being impressed remaining, "It's nice to meet you. Let's do a few tests so I can see where you are first." Just like that you were swept away into a world of learning.

Talia was beyond impressed with the young Wayne girl. First she correctly identified Talia as a threat. It was obvious by the way she angled herself away from the older woman. How her eyes flicked for the nearest exit, probably a subconscious reaction. Without Talia's weapons or reputation, the girl had pick up on danger.

Next was the wrong name. Said so surely like it truly was her name. The girl shifted so fluidly into the new identity too. Talia would have believed it if she hadn't already done research. Never once did she catch the girl not responding to the name. All without proper training.

However, that all paled in comparison to her true shining trait. The girl's intelligence was well beyond average. She caught trick questions and picked up topics quickly. Talia was willing to bet her intellect could rival Bruce's. Obviously not at her current state, she need guidance to reach that level. Still all the material was there.

"Thank you for the help, today." Her voice was quiet. Movements quick to put away the notebook she had written all of her work in. They had moved from mathematics, to English, social studies, sciences, and the one that she seem the most interested in Criminal Investigation. Damian had taken his father's intelligence but was held back his ego. She didn't have that fault.

Talia smiled, "of course. Will you be returning tomorrow? I would love to continue our lessons. There's a chance I might be able to teach you Arabic."

"Arabic, the language?"

"Yes. I taught my son but well he lives with his father now and I don't get to speak it with him anymore." Talia said the information to get the girl to relax but the opposite occurred.

(Name) bit her lip, "I apologize if this is sensitive to you but what's your son's name?"

"Damian." Talia observed the girl's reaction. Her shoulders tense, body angling again, one deep breath. "Too bad his father turned him against me."

"How?" The girl blinked after saying the word. Her face was too blank to be natural. The information was throwing her for a loop as she tried to make it fit her reality. They would need to work on that.

Talia shook her head sadly, "I'm not a hundred percent certain what he told my boy but I think... I think he made Damian believe that he was in love with me and I broke his heart. Even though it was the other way around when he cheated on me."

Talia watched as the words hit home with the girl. Oh she had chosen the right story to turn her against Bruce. The girl gave her an easy smile that was a smidge too tense in the corners, "Yeah. I'll be here tomorrow. Can I ask one last question?"

"Go ahead." Talia gestured with her hand.

"Do you happened to know any self defense teachers?" Determination morphed her features. It made her come alive in a sense. That fire she saw yesterday back in her eyes and brighter. Confidence shifted her stance into one more sure.

"Oh I know several material arts teachers."

Bruce sat in his car, rubbing his brow. In a little over twenty-four hours since his youngest had shown up at manor things had arguably gotten worst. First the information coming out about (Name) never being at school followed by a full blown investigation by his kids. Than there was what the others had officially dub "The shit list". Damian had become so upset he secluded himself in the barn. Last but certainly not less were the changes the other reported in his youngest.

Dick's last phone call said she was at the library researching for 'school'. They had decided to watch her through the cameras believing space was what she actually need. Yet one thing was clear from the little time she had spent in the manor since coming back. Whatever had happened was traumatic and she was not going to tell them directly. Perhaps whoever had her was now stalking her to ensure she wouldn't cooperate.

Bruce would double the manor's security. He wouldn't fail one of his kids a second time. She hadn't arrived home from the library yet, so Bruce had time to prepare. Taking one last deep breath he exited the car. First stop the Batcave to get an update on investigation.

Bruce might as well have entered a war zone. At least there he would know where to start. Dick and Jason were in a screaming match about who should have been checking in on her. Tim was two steps away from drinking coffee straight from the pot, while pouring over financial records. Barbara looked like she was having an aneurysm. Cass was analysising video footage taking notes on presumably her body language. Duke was being interrogate being Steph on how (Name) acted while the two were out and what she could have been writing in "the shit list."

"Status report." His voice shattered the chaos in a matter of seconds. "Oracle you go first."

"I searched through city wide surveillance feeds and found some video footage from a few days ago. It seems like who ever had her did chase after but..." Oracle, Barbara trailed off. The screen flash to show (Name) being chased by an armed pursuer. In two seconds, she had turned thrown a knife of some kind than ran down an another alleyway. Her pursuer fell to the ground weapon lodged in his throat. "Police reports identified him as James Lenon, a low level criminal with a history of violence. He had a scalpel in his trachea and was pronounced dead on arrival of the scene."

Bruce now understood why Barbara looked ready to have an aneurysm. This footage showed (Name) committing murder. Just to get away from whoever was holding her captive. He could only imagine what might have pushed her to that point. That or she didn't know the guy was dead. It would technically count as self defense either way but not a good sign.

Barbara typed something on her laptop before another video appeared. "Than there's this one." It show (Name) running off screen injured. When she reappeared the injuries were gone, not even a speck of blood. The video ended with (Name) throwing a mangled bullet at the camera. An act of defiance, but towards who.

"Has this video been edited?"

"No. This is the orginial video. Do you think she might actually be a meta?" The room filled with anticipation at that.

Bruce nodded once, "we'll need to test her DNA but the odds are good. Red Robin what do you have?"

"She was telling the truth about her card being stolen. It would seem whoever stole it though knew better than to use it to pay for something directly. All of it's cash withdrawals, the ATMs used are in Gotham though so it's all local. Oracle any updates on ATM footage?"

"Na-da. They're smart, covered their faces with sunglasses and sick masks. Generic brand sunglasses and disposable mask so no identifying markers. They wear them on video until they disappear." Barbara brought several still shots onto the screen.

Bruce nodded to the two, taking in the information. It assumable from the ATM footage alone there were multiple people involved in this. They would need to identify which group had the most to gain.

"Nightwing, Red Hood. What did your investigation of the PO box reveal?"

"They scorched the damn place the night she escaped." Jason dropped a picture of a burnt and destroyed PO boxes on the table. One box in the third row was circled "Also destroyed any mail going to all the PO boxes on that wall. Feds are looking into it since the post office was involved, I couldn't get closer than that."

"The person who orginially opened the box, Marcus Antonio, was found dead last night." Dick placed crime scene photos on the table. A man with a singular bullet wound laid in a pool of blood. There were tipped over and rifled through drawers, books, coffee containers. The scene was mess. "Decided to take a look around. It was a clean hit but catch this. The guy had loads of cash stashed all over the place. GCPD thinks it was a robbery gone wrong since they didn't take all of it and left in a hurry. With what we know, I think it was a targeted attack. They mostly just took the cash they could find, figuring they were going to get cut off"

Tim interrupted, "I second that. All cash withdrawals stopped the day after she escaped. They pulled more than they usually did so the bank flagged the card. It's shut off pending investigation."

Bruce nodded. It was likely that most of the people involved were going to leave Gotham. Cash would be necessary for that. "Any sign of the mail?"

"No but he had a burn bucket in the bedroom." Dick shook his head. Leaning against the table he sighed. "They're getting rid of evidence quickly and have a three day head start."

"Orphan."

"She shows signs of hyper vigilance, avoids cameras, and I think she probing us for information." Cassandra looked up from the tablet she was using one.

"Wait, she's probing us for information?" Tim stopped typing on his laptop before throwing his head back and groaning. "She's become one mystery after another."

"At the breakfast table. She was trying to figure out if we read her diary, was gauging how we all reacted to her mentioning school, and was ensuring the debit card got closed out. The roommates she referred to as troublesome were probably the gaurds."

Everyone nodded. Bruce looked to Barbara, "I want a video of breakfast this morning. I need to know exactly what was said. Spoiler, Signal."

"If she doesn't have PTSD I don't know what she has." Steph leaned back in her chair rubbing her eyes. "Though this one wasn't pay any special anytime to her behavior."

"I didn't know I was supposed to. I genuinely thought she was upset because Damian attacked and having to leave 'school' early." Duke ran a hand over his face. "In the hours we spent at the mall, she implied she had to leave school quickly because something really bad happened. That and she's..."

Duke froze, pieces connecting in his head. When he looked at Bruce, horror started to mix with realization. "Was she a Meta two years ago?"

There was a pregnant pause as everyone in the room thought. Bruce shook his, "No. She never showed signs of being a Meta."

"Disappeared for two years, comes back with meta abilities, refers to the thing making her leave as really bad with potentially two triggers for her being needles and the smell of disinfectant." Duke looked at all of them more pieces falling into place. Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. Duke was on to something but for the life of him, Bruce could piece it together? "What was happening two years when she disappeared? Other than that Joker attack."

It finally hit Bruce what Duke was getting at. Two years ago Meta Human traffickers stop looking for ways to find 'product'. Instead they began looking for ways to create new it. There were reports of them doing horrifying things to create new meta humans. It didn’t work because most of them lacked the funding to get the necessary chemicals and equipment.

Yet, with a Wayne kid's debit card that gets weekly deposits. He even gave her a higher amount than the others because she was supposedly aboard. It was possible but there was one missing component for this. "There are no meta humans in my biological family. She wouldn't have the gene to activate."

"And her mother's half of the family?" It was a valid question for Duke to ask. Bruce thought for a second, had her mother had a meta in her family. She mentioned an aunt that was disowned but that was it.

"Spoiler I want you looking into her mother's side of the family." Bruce gave the command before looking across the room again. "Red Hood start looking into Meta Human Traffickers who went off the grid two years ago. Red Robin you're in charge of looking into whoever made those withdrawals. Find out where that cash went. Oracle, look into the two people we've identified as being involved, get contacts, favorite hunts, anything you can. Send that information to Oprhan and Signal. You two are with me in tracking them down."

"What about me B?" Dick gave Bruce a questioning look.

"You're going to talk with (Name) and get her to open up to you." Bruce nodded at Dick, "Go be her older brother."

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Taglist:

@stove-top96 @mysticalhills @00hellohello00 @a-lurking-fae @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist

[oldsoul007]

hope you like scary movies, cus you’re in one

a/n: I may or may not saw an edit…

ghostface!nicholas x reader

It was a quiet night in woodsboro , like it always is. I was a nanny for a little boy so I could get through college. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown Caller. I pressed declined but it repeatedly kept calling. Then the landline they had started ringing. I hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Hello?" I said, my voice cautious.

"Hello, y/n," a distorted voice replied. It sent a chill down my spine. "Do you like scary movies?"

I recognized the voice immediately. It was Ghostface, the infamous killer that terrorize my dad in 1996. But something felt off. There was a familiarity in the tone, beneath the distortion.

"Who is this? You’re not funny” Y/n asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Guess," the voice taunted. "Or maybe I'll just have to come find you."

My heart raced, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew this person. She thought about Nicholas and how he always played pranks on her. Could it be him?

"Alright, Nicholas," I said, calling his bluff. "Cut it out. I know it's you."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice changed, becoming softer and unmistakably Nicholas.

"You got me," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I couldn't resist. I've been watching too many horror movies lately."

I let out a relieved laugh. "You really had me going there for a second. But seriously, you need to stop watching those movies."

Nicholas chuckled. "I know, I know. But hey, it got you to pick up the phone, didn't it?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Yeah, it did. But next time, maybe just send a text?"

"Deal," Nicholas agreed, his tone warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for Nicholas. Even when he was being mischievous, he had a way of making me smile.

I had been feeling uneasy for days. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It started with strange noises outside my window at night and escalated to finding eerie notes left in places only I would notice. The notes were signed by "Ghostface," and they sent chills down my spine.

One evening, as I was walking home from work, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickened my pace, but the footsteps matched mine, growing closer with each step. I turned a corner and ducked into an alley, hoping to lose my pursuer. But as I looked back, I saw the unmistakable mask of Ghostface looming in the shadows.

My heart raced as I tried to find a way out. Suddenly, Ghostface lunged at me, pinning her against the wall. "Why are you doing this?" I cried, her voice trembling with fear.

The masked figure was silent for a moment before reaching up to remove the mask. To my shock, it was Nicholas, my boyfriend, standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Nicholas? What the hell?" My fear quickly turned to anger. "You scared me half to death!"

Nicholas looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to frighten you that much. I thought it would be a fun Halloween prank. I guess I went too far."

My anger softened slightly as I saw the remorse in his eyes. "You think?" I said, still shaken. "You could have just told me you wanted to scare me a little, not make me think I was being stalked by a killer."

Nicholas sighed. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I just wanted to do something different, but I realize now it was a terrible idea. Can you forgive me?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just promise me you'll never do something like this again."

"I promise," Nicholas said, pulling me into a hug. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

As we walked home together, I couldn't help but feel relieved that the nightmare was over. But I also realized that Nicholas had a lot to learn about what constituted a "fun" prank.

“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with ghostface” “babe it’s Halloween losen up!” He said as we walked hand in hand.

I had always felt a chill in the air around Halloween, but this year, it was different. I had my boyfriend, nicholas. He was charming, funny, and had a smile that could light up the darkest night. Everyone loved him. But there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

One evening, me and nick decided to attend the town's annual Halloween party. The old mansion where the party was held was decked out in spooky decorations, with cobwebs, eerie lighting, and ghostly figures lurking in the corners. Everyone was in costume, and I had chosen to go as a ____.

As I mingled with friends, I couldn't help but notice that Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was. Just as I was about to give up, I was walking by the stairs when I heard someone yelling.

I try not to be nosey but go up the stairs anyone. Maybe nick was up here anyway. I walked through the house looking in the rooms finding nothing. When I open the door i see some kid in a ghost face costume hop out the window. “What the fuck” I say under my breath. I pull out my phone to text him. No service?

I heard commotion downstairs so I ran down to see what’s happening. Everyone was gone from the house. I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.

It was Ghostface, and my heart raced. The figure moved silently through the room, its eyes fixed on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Ghostface approached, stopping just inches away from me.

"Y/n," a familiar voice whispered from behind the mask. My eyes widened in shock as Ghostface removed the mask to reveal Nicholas's face. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, friendly smile I was used to. It was cold and sinister.

"I've been watching you," Nicholas said, his voice low and menacing. "You have no idea who I really am."

I took a step back, my mind racing. The pieces started to fall into place—the strange disappearances, the eerie feeling I got around him, the way he always seemed to know too much. I realized with a sinking feeling that my new boyfriend was none other than the real Ghostface.

Before I could react, Nicholas lunged at me, but I was quick. I grabbed a nearby candlestick and swung it at him, knocking him off balance. I ran through the mansion, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately searching for a way out.

As I reached the front door, I could hear Nicholas's footsteps behind me. I flung the door open and ran into the night, vowing never to trust anyone so easily again. But before I could even get out of the door he grabbed my arm pulling me back in. I try fighting him off but he grabs both of my wrist. “I’m not gonna hurt you y/n!” “Why, why did you do this?!” I yell looking him in the eyes. “What even is a motive?”

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 3

Part: 1 2 4

“Lady Y/n please settle down. You’ll make yourself sick if you-” Mori paused hearing the lullaby playing throughout the sound of the Hospital. You turned to Wasuke he didn’t look to please, he sat arms crossed over his chest staring blankly at the floor, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

“Well, he’s alive.”

You waited eagerly until a nurse came to guide you all in, over time you wormed your way into the Itadori’s life making a point to become good friends with Kaori and Jin in the brief time before her due date. You know one thing you’d never trust her, Kenjaku to be exact, which is why it surprised you when she asked Jin if they could assign you as a God Mother if anything happened. Jin suggested maybe after Wasuke, you didn’t have a problem saying you were a neighbor if they ever needed you, you were next door.

Walking in the room you rushed over to Kaori seeing your son, except in this life he lacked the little marking on his forehead that matched his dad perfectly, but he was crying painfully loud. “Oh Kaori he’s precious, a little crying prince.” You tried to laugh it off before you squeezed her in a hug and she smiled “My little Yuji.” She tried to rock him Your heart skipped when he let out a loud cry hands shaking face reddening, you smiled at her with a loss of air “Yuji?”

She nodded at your question explaining it was a decision made for them. It didn’t feel right to name him anything else, you smiled and looked at his little round face, “hold him, you’ll be in his life as long as your around. Maybe he’ll calm down.”

She tried to offer Yuji, you hesitated looking at Wasuke and Jin, they were talking. You looked at Kaori, she smiled weakly and you nodded, as soon as you placed his head on your chest he feel into place the way he had once. Your teary eyes mixed with how quiet and calm he became when his little fist took hold of your shirt called attention. “Look at that.” Wasuke say elbowing Jin.

You smiled at Yuji’s little scrunched up face before turning to smile at Kaori, she smiled at you while trying to move around in the hospital bed, “He’ll be lucky to have you in his life, it seems like he likes you already.”

You spent the day with Kaori in the hospital when Jin and Wasuke left to bring her some take out and get a few things ready. You were sat by her bed holding Yuji who took hold of your finger, he was holding for life, you moved him around seeing that star mark of your binding vow. You looked over at Kaori, she was smiling but looked tired, “Take care of him y/n, if anything happens make sure he knows what it’s like to have a loving mother.” With a soft laugh you nodded, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re going to both be fine. You’ll get up, take him home and have a happy little family.” Your smile would’ve been reassuring if it actually reached your eyes, but your eyes held the trace of faint tears. Tears of the memory when Yuji was Born screaming, when Sukuna was so proud to see his boy being held up to show he was the first heir. The tight grip he held on Sukuna’s finger, the way Yuji was quick to nuzzle into your chest and not let go. How Sukuna didn’t leave your side for weeks wanting to take the first few weeks to admire his wife and first born son. Back when Sukuna had a sense of Humanity still. Now you could feel it, the evil that was slowly seeping into the world as the seals that held Sukuna captive weakened. Kaori had fallen asleep when you kissed Yuji’s forehead, running your thumb over his cheek when he yawned.

“Sleep little prince, I’ll be here always.” Nuzzling your forehead against his he cooed before he briefly opened his eyes, his little brown eyes were golden in the light of the afternoon soon. You held onto him while he slept until Jin and Wasuke returned. Mori stood to the side, watching it all. Wondering how different you were before you picked him up out of the scum he slept in every night. How could the tyrant he learned to be Sukuna have been your husband? Was he not the cruel King of Curses everyone had logged and preached him to be? Were you as cruel of a monster before the sun set on the Golden Age?

🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍

“My condolences” was all you said as you bowed to Wasuke before entering the shrine room to pay your respects. It hadn’t been long after Kaori and Jin came home, they found her dead, details hadn’t been shared but seeing the split on her skull at the mortuary you had known well enough what it was. Jin followed soon after leaving Wasuke with his grandson. Kaori had made it know that she trusted you completely with Yuji, which lead to you signing the legal documents for becoming a Godmother. That was one decision Wasuke agreed with entirely.

———————

There you sat on the floor of Wasuke’s living room, cooing and playing with Yuji not to long before his first birthday. Pressing on the bottom of his feet while he kicked back, “Look at you little baby” you wiggled his legs and he giggled, “Getting all ready to walk! You’re growing up so fast!” Yuji cooed before sitting up with a baby grunt and staring up at you, you let him crawl into your lap and sit there before you squeezed, “Aw my little Yuji.” Kissing his head and squeezing him in one more hug you let him sit in your lap, clapping along to whatever was on the tv. “Mm your grandpa’s taking a while longer than expected, wanna eat and get ready for bed?” Yuji cooed mindlessly watching the tv until you pulled him up with you, he squirmed turning to look at you, his little chubby hands on your cheeks trying to squish your face, “baaba.” “Mhmm, Baaba, Bottle.” He kept cooing until you gave him a warm bottle.

“Well, has a cold so it you and I.” Yuji was still drinking out of his bottle laying his head on your shoulder. The other hand squished between both your chests, his eyes looking up at you. “You still look so much like your daddy… speaking of him, his presence is stronger I wonder if something really is changing…”

Yuji had fallen asleep against your shoulder, soft breaths as he barely held onto the bottle. Slipping it out of his hand you made your way to your room, Mor�� was finishing setting up a bassinet cushion on your bed.

“Everything’s ready Lady Y/n” you smiled “Thank you Morinozuka.” He bowed before leaving and you laid Yuji down, tucking him in with a blanket. Running your fingers over his little fists to uncurl his fingers, leaning down you kissed his forehead and he whined, “Good night little prince.”

🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤

Soon you were walking a young Yuji to school and back. Watching how he ran and jumped on playground before you got to the school. He purposely woke up early to be able to play, “mommy!” Your eyes snapping to Yuji when he cried sitting on the stairs to a slide. Rushing over to him you knelt to see him cradling his knee. “What’s wrong did you get hurt?” He sniffled little cheeks getting red as he puffed them out.

“my knee.” You pouted with him when he moved his hand, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fix it right up.” Pulling Yuji’s back pack off your shoulder you opened a little tin, it had bandaids you’d infused with cursed energy. Pulling out a bigger bandaid with a smiling chibi tigger your laid it over his knee, and he sniffled flinching, “Don’t worry, when you take it off you’ll be okay again.” Taking his face in your hands you kissed his forehead and he tried to hug you “thank chu.” He placed a wet kiss on your cheek that you wiped off when he wasn’t looking because you didn’t wanna hurt his little feelings.

“Alright! Let’s get you to school, I gotta buy some groceries for later.” You took his hands and he swung them back and forth, “Can we have noodles?”

He looked up at you starry eyed with a little bit of drool, you nodded, “Noddles with rice and fried egg?” He nodded excitedly “yeah!”

“Alright Yuji’s specialty to Start off the week it is.” You swung your hand with his and smiled looking ahead, stopping outside the schools gate where a teacher was waiting, “Bye mommy!” He hugged your side before rushing in, you waved at him when he turned back, “you didn’t say bye!” He screamed running back, “Bye Yuji,” he nodded running back before stopping again, “You didn’t tell me have a good day!” The teacher giggled when you smiled at her “Have a good day Yuji!” He nodded before you called him to come back, he was walking back and started running when he saw you kneel with open arms, when he ran into your hug you shook him side to side and he giggled. He leaned back from your hug “I love you Yuji, be good ,play nice and have a good day okay?” He gave a single nod, “Okay!” “Bye mommy love you!” He took off running, waving back at you with a closed eye smile.

“He’s very cute, everyone loves him and he’s very easy to make friends with.” The teacher smiled at you, “Yeah? That’s good, at least I know I don’t have to worry about him. Thank you.” You bowed your head to the teacher who brushed you off, “Please the pleasure is ours, Yuji is a little ray of sun on rainy days honestly.”

🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤

“Wasuke.” Was all you could say when he told you what he knew, “Yuji’s mother Kaori was a curse. It wasn’t hard to tell but I knew my son couldn’t handle it. I’m old in age and you might think I’m crazy, a loony old man. I failed to save my own son, I let him get taken by a curse, I could have saved him. But I was a coward, I saw that woman with her skull split open, she was dead and she should’ve stayed dead. But that thing living inside her…” you placed a hand on his.

“I understand what you mean Wasuke, I couldn’t save someone precious to me long ago to a curse. I could see them as long as I’ve been alive. That’s a world so cruel I wouldn’t wish for anyone to have to live through it…” your blank stare on his hand as he turned his hand over, “Who did you lose y/n?” His stare was fixed on you.

“I should tell you, it’s the only parting gift I have to give. Yuji was my son in what would be his previous life, his Father was a powerful man. One day a group sorcerer’s turned on him, sealing him away. His presence is strong in this world still, he’s alive. Yuji was our only son, and they took him from us dealing him in time to be reborn in a time distant from our. It was a mistake on their part. I was locked in a box called the Prison Realm, a place where Time stands still and you’ll lose your sanity before you die. A man following an ancient tale found that Box where our capturer’s died. I haven’t the slightest idea how he did it but he set me free in exchange I bless his wife with a healthy pregnancy, I did and for years I built a following. Before that, on the day of the attack Yuji and I made a binding Vow that I would find him again, it’s why he has that star shaped mark on his forearm. When I tell him this same story and he understands completely the Vow will be completed, and they’ll disappear.”

Wasuke looked at you, thinking over your words while staring at your arm where you had rolled up your sleeve, it was the same mark as Yuji. He started laughing head thrown back into his pillow “They could say I’m crazy. But they would label you insane, but at least we’d both have middle ground on the truth here.” He squeezed your hand weakly and you squeezed back, “Take care of Yuji, your son, my only grandson.” You nodded, “I will, I’ll do anything to make sure i never lose him or see him get hurt again. For what felt like endless nights I relived the same memory of him crying, screaming and reaching out, and I’ll be damned if I ever let that happen again.”

Wasuke nodded before patting your hand, “He’ll be getting home soon, you should be there for him, especially today.” You felt his words deeply, the ache in your chest, he was predicting his own death. You nodded before bowing at his bed side, “Thank you for everything Wasuke Itadori, I pray you find peace in the afterlife.”

He snorted waving you off, “find peace in this life or you’ll never have it. Now go.”

———————

You were at home, it was quiet, the sound of boiling brother, the window cracked open letting the sound of crickets and bird coo’s fill the kitchen. Yuji had moved in with you when Wasuke was moved into the Hospital. Morí was at the table filling out a book from your old shrine. You had started shrine work here while Yuji was at school making sure to keep it private.

The sound of scribbling and your slicing of vegetables stopped when you looked out the window. It was setting, the sun, everything was quiet when you felt a sense of dread and a wave of cold wash over you. Scribbling stopped when the phone line began to ring, you knew what it was. “Hello, am I speaking with l/n y/n?”

“Yes, this is her.” A shaky breath, “Wasuke Itadori has passed away, I offer my condolences. Yuji Itadori is here and filling out the necessary paper work. We’ll give you a call when all the necessary preparations have been made.”

Thanking the nurse you hung up, trembling slightly as you tried to keep slicing vegetables. “Wasuke..” it didn’t take long for your noodles and rice to finish.

“Where’s Yuji? He should be home by no-” your entire body shook as you gasped, your heart thrumming in your chest, “ Ryomen…”

@needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @christinerose380 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @lunaizhere @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @3ve88 @sakuxxi @mercymccann

[slytherinsimp12]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ 𝐼𝓃𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈 ౨ৎ˚⟡˖

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You and James have been friends since first year. You both would spend majority of your time together due to quidditch practice. Somewhere along the way, you started to develop feelings for him. You would never assume he felt the same way towards you, even though he flirted with you mindlessly and came up with clever excuses to be around you, you never assumed he would like you any other way than as a friend. All that changes one night, when James finds your diary.

Warnings: Fluff and Kissing.

Author’s note: Hey lovelies, this was originally supposed to be a smutty fanfic but I decided to write the clean version first. If this does well, I’ll write the ‘spicy’ version 🤭. Comment if you want the other version and to be added to the tag list💌Happy reading <3

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with energy after a Quidditch match victory. James Potter, sweaty and exhilarated, looked more beautiful than usual. You watched him slip away from the crowd to grab a Butterbeer, joining you at the snack table.

“That was a nice save towards the end, Potter. I thought you were going to fall off your broom for a second.” You said.

“Fall off? Please, I had it completely under control. The dramatic dive was for effect. You know, to impress certain players” He smirked.

“Oh? And did it work?” You laughed.

“Depends… were you impressed?” He said, leaning in closer to you. A shiver ran down your spine, this is how James was. Friendly flirting until the other person was completely flustered. You should have gotten used to it by now, but you didn’t. You were anything but used to it.

“Maybe a little. But I was mostly impressed you didn’t hit your head again. That’d be, what, the third time this term?” You said, brushing him off.

“Ouch.” He groaned, dramatically clutching his chest.

The celebration continued till 1 am that night, at some point, you, James, Sirius, Marlene and Mary ended up in Sirius and James’ dorm.

“Right, it’s getting late. Me and Mary are gonna head back to our dorm, coming y/n?” Marlene asked.

“Yea. James, is it alright if I leave my bag here? I promise to take it first thing tomorrow.” You said, little did you know that was going to change your entire relationship with James Potter.

The next morning, you woke up with a horrible migraine. Still, holding up your promise, you made your way to James’ dorm, half asleep, to collect your things.

“James?” You called, before entering the room.

“Come in.” He said from inside.

His hair was messier than usual, his face a mix of surprise and sleep. He was sitting on a chair with his legs on the bed, holding up a diary, grinning like he had just found gold.

Oh for Merlin’s sake. Your diary. How could you be so stupid? You had totally forgotten your diary was in your bag, but you didn’t expect him to go through your things.

“What the hell, James?” You said, anger edging in your voice.

You marched over to him, trying to snatch the diary away, but he pulled it out of your reach.

“James Fleamont Potter, you give that back right now!” You screamed.

James laughed, “Relax, I only read… like, two sentences. Three tops. One might’ve mentioned someone with ‘wild hair and a hopeless ego.’ Ring any bells?” He said coyly.

A red blush crept up your face and made its way to your neck.

“You. Are. Utterly. Unbelievable.” You spat.

“Oh, come on, it’s kind of flattering. You wrote about me! That’s practically a love letter in diary terms.” He joked.

“It is not! Now give it back!” You demanded.

“Nuh uh” he teased, childishly.

“I also called you ‘a walking disaster in Quidditch robes.’ Did you read that part?” You asked, annoyed.

“I knew you noticed my robes! You do like me.” James said, gasping dramatically.

“James” you groaned, getting more and more embarrassed now.

“Hey—don’t be embarrassed. If I had a diary, you’d be in it. Probably underlined. With little stars and everything.” He joked, stepping closer.

He handed you your diary back, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than they needed to.

“I didn’t read anything else, promise.” He said.

“Thanks…” you whispered.

There was a pause, neither of you moved. The room was quiet, except for the crackle of the fireplace. You could hear James’ heartbeat, his breath and you could feel his closeness.

“You know…. I was half- hoping it was about me, when I found it.” His voice was quieter, as he took a small step closer.

Your eyes searched his, looking for truth.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I’ve been walking around pretending not to feel what I feel. And it’s exhausting, honestly. I’m James Potter—I’m not built for subtle.” He answered.

“That is definitely true.” You said, smiling and rolling your eyes.

“So if you’re pretending too… I don’t know. Maybe we can stop. Just for a minute.” He pleaded, taking your palms in his.

He was so close now. Close enough for you to see the freckles under his eyes, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks, close enough for you to smell his scent.

His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.

“Is it so terrible? Liking me?”

“No. It’s terrifying.” You admitted.

James’ hand slips up to your cheek, his thumb brushing your jaw, you lean into him instinctively. He closed the space between the two of you, placing a warm kiss on your lips. It was soft, but a little hesitant at first, like the both of you were trying to memorise this feeling. His lips move against yours gently, like a question being answered with every second you didn’t pull away.

You break apart, just barely, your foreheads rest together, and he’s smiling like he’s completely undone.

“Took you long enough.” You smiled, breathless.

“Oi—I was being respectful. Chivalrous. Noble Gryffindor and all that.” He countered.

“You read my diary, James.” You defended.

“And I’d do it again if it brought me here.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around you.

(All rights reserved, ©)

[the-internets-girlfriend]

Bittersweet Memories: Something Sweet

George Clarke x Reader (Series)

There was something sweet - until it all fell apart. Years later, a viral video stirs up a past neither of them ever quite let go of. In the city where they both changed, something is quietly rising again.

warnings: soft angst, emotional miscommunication, heartbreak, swearing, slow-burn

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series | masterlist | previous part | next part

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Part Two: Something Sweet (2300+ words)

I didn't expect anything to come from it.

One of my closest friends Maisie - who worked at my bakery with me - came up with the idea on a slow afternoon.

It started as a bit of a joke - just filming something fun to pass the time.

Maisie grabbed her phone and filmed the process of me making a small vanilla sponge cake - and dressing it up with a pink crumb coat, and fresh strawberries.

She spun slowly around me as I worked, catching shots of me mixing the batter, sliding it into the oven, and later, piping the delicate swirls around the cake's border before placing the strawberries just so.

At first, I was awkward in front of the camera, but eventually I loosened up - it was just my best friend filming me after all. I slipped into a casual commentary about how to get the perfect piping swirl and which nozzle to use, proudly showing off my nerdy baking side.

We ended the video laughing, each grabbing a fork and digging into the cake, each flashing a smile and thumbs-up to the camera before stopping the video.

Afterwards, I went home and fell asleep, thinking nothing more of it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, Maisie came barreling into the bakery, clutching her phone - our usual coffee orders noticeably absent from her hands.

"Two million!" She blurted, instead of her casual good morning paired with my iced strawberry matcha.

I blinked at her, half asleep - it was early, so early the bakery had yet to open to customers, "what?"

"Views!" She shouted, shoving her phone in my face. It was the silly TikTok we'd filmed yesterday. She quickly swiped to another app, showing me our Instagram, "and 10,000 likes! And it's still climbing. You're famous now. London's very own cake girl!"

I stared at the screen, stunned.

"I literally just piped swirls," I mumbled.

Maisie laughed like I was being ridiculous, "well Y/N, the internet's in love with your piping then.

Before I could respond, a knock echoes at the bakery door.

I raise an eyebrow at Maisie, silently asking the question - who could that be? No one else is scheduled today. She shrugs, just as curious.

I step toward the door and spot a women standing outside, wrapped in a deep red scarf, clutching a matching bag against her chest. Her breath fogs the glass as she peers in. When our eyes meet, she offers a small wave.

Frowning slightly, I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal of my key clipped to my lanyard. I unhook it with a click and twist the lock open.

The door creaks open with a gust of wind that smells like wet pavement and winter air.

"Hi there," she says quickly, smiling in a way that feels both nervous and determined. "I'm so sorry to bother you - I know you're not open yet, but I saw your TikTok last night and it's my daughters birthday - and I just know she would love something like that. I was hoping to talk about a custom cake?"

I blink. She's older than I expected - maybe late forties - with kind eyes and lipstick that matches her scarf. Her fingers are red from the cold, clutched tightly around the strap of her bag like it's anchoring her to the moment.

"Oh!" I say, realising I have yet to reply - I glance back at Maisie, unsure, "we're not quite open for the day yet, but-"

"We can open early - squeeze her in," Maisie says brightly, already stepping around the counter with that breezy confidence she wears like an apron. "Come in, come in. You'll freeze out there."

The woman lets out a relieved breath and nodes, stepping into the warmth of the shop as Maisie hurries around, making sure everything was set up correct.

I waited at the door for a beat longer - my mind flickering of what this could mean for the bakery - understanding the post may have just changed Gracie's Bakery life.

With a smile, I flick the sign over to face open to the outside.

I turn with a twirl and make my way to the front counter, grabbing the claw clip from my apron and quickly putting my hair up.

"Thank you so much," the women says again, as I come face to face with her at the counter, "I've got my daughters birthday dinner tonight and she sent that video of the vanilla sponge - and well, I thought it would be such a great gift for her."

Maisie gives me a pointed look, one eyebrow raised in a way that says see? viral genius. She grabs the clipboard with the order forms and slides it across the counter to me like a magician presenting a trick.

With sly movement, the clipboard finds itself in my hand, "alright lets talk cake." I say with a grin.

"Name?"

"Catherine," the woman says, settling into the space like she's been here a hundred times already. "Catherine Leigh."

"And for the cake?"

Catherina leans in slightly, eyes shining, "something beautiful. Elegant. But with personality, you know? Maybe floral - she loves flowers."

I smile and give a nod, already picturing colour palettes in my head.

"Flavours?"

"Lemon and raspberry, if you can," Catherine says, smiling at me now. "And oh fresh cream - like the video, it just looked so fresh. Light but special."

I nod. "We can definitely do that."

And just like that, we're talking sponge textures and frosting options. For a moment, everything fades - and my dream feels like it has come true.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the next night, the social media posts continued to grow alongside our follower count - I was never one to care for how many followers I received but I knew this would be justice for my bakery.

I was still in dazed shock as I scroll through the TikTok comments on the post.

Then I see a comment that makes my breath catch in my throat.

georgeclarkeey: this looks unreal

I blink. Hard.

Of course I had kept up with his social media - still wanting the best for him but I hadn't checked it in over six months. He had continued to grow since our break up two years ago; collab videos, brand deals, interviews, and meeting the sidemen which I knew he had always dreamed of.

I just didn't expect him to see the video.

I didn't even know he followed the bakery social media TikTok account.

I begin to type out a response and think maybe just liking the comment just to acknowledge it.

But I think back to the times when I felt put down - and I leave it there.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The dream keeps growing - every day the crowd spills though the door, never thinning for long.

Maisie's flat out at the coffee machine, pouring tiny hearts and ferns into foamed milk for anyone who orders a slice of cake or baked dessert from the glass cabinet. Meanwhile, I've been flooded with custom requests -wedding, birthdays, baby showers. It's overwhelming, but in the best way. Like... maybe this is actually happening.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Another week has passed, and Maisie has posted a few more videos and photos on social media, and somehow we end up on food blog of 'Top 5 Hidden Dessert Spots in London". Maisie and I joke that we're famous now, but underneath the jokes is a pulsing hum of something I haven't felt in a long time: pride.

It's a thundering Friday when the door chime rings and my past walks in.

I don't see him right away. I'm wiping down a tray behind the counter, humming to myself a Taylor Swift song when I hear the voice.

"See look Arthur, that's the cake I was telling you about. The TikTok one."

My stomach flips.

I lift my head.

And there he is.

George.

The two years felt like nothing as I recognised him right away - the only difference being he grew in a little more facial hair - but he looks older, more confident.

He's standing in the middle of my bakery, damp hair from the rain, next to a dark brunette who is hanging a jacket up on the coat stand. They're followed in my a third man, clutching a camera in his right hand, as he left hand was brushing off rain droplets.

I freeze in my spot.

George hasn't seen me yet. He's bent down, looking at the display case with the cake slices like a normal customer, chatting with his friend Arthur, totally unaware that he's just stepped into a place he probably didn't mean to find.

Maisie walks out of the back kitchen and freezes herself when she spots the customers.

Maisie never got the chance to meet George as she only appeared into my life a year ago when I opened the bakery - but oh has she heard of him. The first time I had spoke about him was a classic; we were having a girls night with two too many wine bottles when the conversation of our ex's got bought up. Maisie spoke about the dating pool and how she was just having fun since her girlfriend just broke up with her. And well I, expressed how a boy broke my heart and I hadn't been interested in dating since.

Maisie sidles up next to me and mutters, "No way. Is that -?"

"Yup."

"Did you invite him?"

"Nope."

"Do we hide?"

Before I can answer, he looks up. Our eyes meet.

He goes still. His smile falters. His friend Arthur still talking away about something. But there's a beat - just one - but it's long enough for the air to shift.

"Y/N?"

I force a smile. "Hey."

He walks up slowly, the cakes and pastries in the case long forgotten.

"You work here?" he asks, voice soft.

I raise an eyebrow, assuming he knew I worked here - thinking to myself if this was a setup.

"I kind of own the place," I say. "Welcome to Gracie's Bakery."

A smile reaches his lip, "oh the same name as your - "

Before he can continue the sentence, I shut it down with a response - not wanting to think of certain memories, "yeah you're right."

A small amount of tension emerges into the air, his friend finding a beat to say something, "George you're right this place does look good."

"Not bad for a hobby, " I say, staring at George before I can stop myself.

His smile falters a little more. "And I deserved that."

I shrug, pretending to smooth the corner of a take away box - in case they select some treats. My aim is to try busy myself to leave the conversation - but George doesn't catch on.

"I didn't know this was your bakery, " he says, eyes still on me.

"I figured. Otherwise I doubt you'd have walked in."

His mate, Arthur, still oblivious to the tension calls out, "George, this cake is insane. We've got to get a full one next time." I turn, wondering how he had gotten cake already but see Maisie stood with our sample tray and tongs.

I turn back to my box and George nods at his friend but never looks away from me. He's looking at me, as if he's trying to figure out if I'm still the same me he once knew.

For a moment, I think he might say something else. Something real. His eyes flicks down, then back to mine. Like he's weighing it. Like he wants to step closer but isn't sure if he's allowed.

But instead, he just says, "It's good to see you."

"You too."

He hesitates, lips parted like there's more - always more - but the moment passes. He glances toward Arthur who is looking at the sample tray in amazement, and lets him know with a nod of the head he'll be waiting out front.

George turns back to me, and nodes like we've just completed a transaction instead of shattering every nerve I've been stitching back together for two years.

And then he leaves.

The bell chimes behind him.

The bell chime alerts his friend that he has left, and he realises he only has limited time left in the bakery.

"Oh shoot - can I actually order a full cake of this sample for pick up in a few days?" Arthur abruptly says.

I give a nod, still in shock of the individual who just left.

"Yeah of course, any special occasion?"

"Oh my friends are just reaching a milestone on their podcast." He replies.

We exchange a quick conversation, as I fill out the order form - organising as to what he wants.

Before he leaves, he asks the question, "and sorry I never got your name - the cake baker is?"

I give the boy a smile, "Y/n."

With a simple one word, his face shifts and it's like something clicks in his mind.

"Oh Y/n? - Yeah that makes sense - Oh thank you, I'll be back soon." He stutters out as he hurries to the door.

And I just stand there, confused about it all.

My mind wandering to George.

Wondering is he knew before he came in. Or if the universe is just cruel enough to bring him back like this - sweet, sudden and completely unplanned.

Just like the first time.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

and welcome everyone to Gracie's Bakery!!... you'll find out later why that is the name hehe.

And yes there has been two whole years between this chapter and the first so they haven't seen each other in awhile...

See you next time,

mwah x

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

taglist x

@mothersversiononly @whisperturnedecho @lovingaphroditesworld @reidyourpalms @liz140569 @swizzlemynizzle @wherethezoes-at @clarkeyzzz @swiftlyjo @madforgeorge @smzyyx @graceln4 @norrizzandpia @heyitsmefall @oliviaohanessian1 @clarkey4life @dopeysunflowers @hey-there9-its-me @ooostarwarsfandom501st @canyouseethesainz

[devdozes]

♠ Double package of tits and wits

i swear tge title is a joke okaya 💔anwyays, maybe innacurate medical knowledge and reader yaps about spiderverse theories tw- description of surgeries, gore (not much), surgeon mydei and reader.

The first time you met Mydei, he was standing in the middle of the ER, clipboard in hand, reading over a patient file with the expression of someone who had just been assigned to clean a crime scene with a toothbrush. He was new, fresh from a high-end medical program, and carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made nurses whisper and interns both respect and fear him. He had an air of efficiency, crisp in both movement and demeanor, like a man who had everything under control.

Naturally, you had to mess with him.

"Oh no, another serious one," you fake gasped, leaning against the nurses' station, balancing a cup of coffee precariously on a stack of patient charts. "You look like you're contemplating life choices. Did you lose a bet to end up here?"

Mydei slowly looked up from his clipboard, unimpressed. "No. But I assume you did, given your current posture and general air of irresponsibility."

Your smirk widened, tapping your fingers against the cup. "Ah, he's got claws. Good. You'll need them here."

Before he could reply with what you were sure would be a clinical-level roast, a nurse rushed over. "Dr. [L/N], emergency surgery. Chest trauma. OR 2. Now."

Your entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Gone was the playful teasing and casual posture. The coffee was discarded onto the counter, forgotten. You pushed off, face tightening with focus as you nodded. "On it. Let's move."

Mydei watched as you strode off, barking orders at the surgical team like a general leading an army. The contrast was stark—one moment, you were a chaotic sister figure of the hospital, the next, a razor-sharp surgeon whose presence commanded the room with no room for erorr. The ease with which you transitioned between those two states intrigued him. It was impressive.

It became a running joke in the hospital that you never walked—only sprinted. Due to the absurd number of trauma cases flooding the ER, you had been dubbed the "Marathon Runner" by the staff because you were always dashing to the emergency room or the OR, barely catching your breath between surgeries.

One particularly chaotic evening, yet another murder victim was rushed into the ER, the fifth in five days. You were already running before the announcement had finished crackling over the speakers. "Where's Mydei?! I need extra hands!" you yelled over your shoulder.

You caught sight of him further down the hall, walking at his usual composed pace. Not fast enough. In one swift motion, you grabbed his ear and yanked him along, continuing your sprint toward the ER.

"Move it, newbie! We don't have all day!" you barked, barely sparing him a glance as you dragged him with you.

Mydei stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, shooting you an exasperated glare. "Is this how you usually recruit your surgical team? Physical assault?"

"If it works, it works! Now stop whining and keep up!"

By the time you burst through the ER doors, Mydei’s expression was a mix of mild irritation and resigned acceptance. The staff barely batted an eye at the scene—just another day in the war zone, and just another mad sprint for the infamous "Marathon Runner." ♥♥♥

The patient was already prepped by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in. Gunshot wound to the underside of the thoracic region, severe internal bleeding, possible liver damage. Time was not on your side.

"Scalpel," you said sharply, hand outstretched as the instrument was placed into your palm.

The moment you made the incision, the world outside the operating table ceased to exist. The chaotic, joking version of you disappeared, replaced by a laser-focused surgeon with only one objective: saving this patient’s life.

"Retractor," Mydei instructed, his voice calm but firm, matching your energy perfectly. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, he worked with the same level of intensity, sharp eyes scanning for complications before they could escalate. "The bullet's lodged near the hepatic vein. High risk of rupture."

You nodded, steady hands navigating the delicate area. "We'll need to remove it without causing further damage. Hold traction here."

He complied without hesitation, and for the next hour, the two of you worked seamlessly, the tension in the room thick as you maneuvered through the critical steps. Nurses exchanged glances—rarely did a new surgeon adapt so well to your pace, but Mydei was holding his ground.

Finally, with careful precision, you made the incision, gently extracting the bullet with forceps. Mydei immediately clamped down on the bleed as you worked to close the wound. "Hemostasis achieved," he confirmed, voice still level despite the high-stakes procedure.

You exhaled sharply, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge the strain in your muscles. "Good work, newbie. Maybe I won't have to drag you by the ear next time."

His mask couldn't hide the slight quirk of his lips. "A relief, truly."

The nurses stifled laughter as the tension broke, and you smirked beneath your mask. Just another day in the war zone cod mentioned

Over the following weeks, the emergency murder victims didn’t stop. If anything, they became more frequent. More victims, more emergency calls, more all-nighters in the OR. You barely had time to breathe between surgeries. The staff was growing anxious—talks of a serial killer floated through the hospital halls, whispers of patterns, speculation about who the next victim would be.

One night, after finishing another back-to-back surgery, you leaned against the break room counter, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. Mydei sat across from you, arms crossed, his usual composed expression marred by something contemplative.

"You notice it too, don’t you?" you muttered, cracking open a cold energy drink. Mydei inhaled slowly, "Mhm. Yeah, I did, it is truly concerning. Who could be doing all this? and why are these happening to only those who are connected to the hospital in some way or the other?" "As much as I would like to say that it's a conspiracy theory although this seems too..well planned," You reply before taking a huge gulp of your energy drink, and cringing out as the brain freeze kicks in "OH FUCK BRAIN FREEZE!!" "Good lord"

Surgery after surgery. Shift after shift. Barely enough time to breathe.

You were used to this—the endless flood of trauma cases, the sleepless nights, the way your body screamed for rest but never quite got it. The hospital never slowed down, and neither did you. And with the murders increasing, the ER had become more of a war zone than ever.

But if there was one silver lining in this chaotic, bloodstained mess, it was that you had a new plaything—Mydei.

He had only been here for a couple of months, but the poor bastard had already been roped into your whirlwind pace. Every time another trauma case came barreling through those ER doors, it was like clockwork—you and Mydei, sprinting through the halls, elbow-deep in someone's guts five minutes later.

And to your shock? The guy was handling your bullshit.

Mostly.

♥♥♥

Surgery #1 “Another one?” Mydei muttered as he scrubbed in, glancing at the case file.

You huffed, aggressively tying your mask. “Yup. Because life is fair and normal and totally not a complete joke.”

“It is, in fact, not fair or normal,” Mydei agreed dryly, stepping into the OR beside you. “We just had back-to-back stab wounds two hours ago.”

“Welcome to the life of an average surgeon,” you shot back, holding out your hand. “Scalpel.”

The instrument was placed in your palm, and you immediately got to work, making the first incision. The moment the skin parted, blood surged up like a dark tide, and you barely resisted the urge to curse.

“Gunshot went clean through the left lung,” Mydei noted, his hands already moving to assist. “We need to clear the hemorrhaging before we can close it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, newbie. Talking like a real trauma surgeon.”

“Unlike you, I actually paid attention in medical school.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to function on three hours of sleep and an energy drink,” you retorted, maneuvering the forceps with ease.

He didn’t even dignify that with a response, focusing instead on securing the ruptured artery. The monitors beeped wildly as the patient’s vitals dipped, and for the next hour, it was a brutal game of tug-of-war with death.

But eventually, after what felt like forever, the bleeding was controlled, the lung repaired, and the incision closed.

Another one survived. Another round of exhaustion settling deep into your bones.

As you peeled off your gloves, you nudged Mydei with your elbow. “Good work, newbie. You only looked mildly horrified this time.”

“I was not horrified.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you said, smirking behind your mask.

♥♥♥ Surgery #5

Mydei had just sat down in the break room, a cup of coffee in one hand and his sanity barely intact, when you kicked the door open, with the most tired, zombie-like eyes ever, but your energy said otherwsie.

“We have another stab wound victim,” you announced dramatically, pointing at him like you were accusing him of a crime.

He stared at you for exactly three seconds. Then, without breaking eye contact, he calmly put down his coffee, stood up, and walked past you.

“You coming?” he said flatly.

You grinned and followed after him, practically skipping.

By the time you were both in the OR again, hands scrubbed, gloved, and ready to operate, you could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. But at this point, exhaustion was just another permanent state of being.

“Another day, another stab victim,” you muttered, making the first incision. “I should start keeping a tally at this point.”

“I assume you already do,” Mydei said without looking up, using a retractor to hold the muscle layers apart.

“I do, actually. I carved it into the back of the break room door.”

He blinked. “You did what?”

“I’m kidding.”

“… Are you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath about unprofessionalism and ‘why do I work with you’, but his hands never faltered.

And as always, you and Mydei worked seamlessly, patching up yet another poor soul and dragging them back from the brink of death.

♥♥♥

Surgery #9

It had been twenty hours since either of you had properly rested, and you were running on nothing but spite, lemon-flavored energy drinks, and questionable life choices.

“Did you seriously just chew a lemon before scrubbing in?” Mydei asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and vague disappointment.

“Yup,” you said cheerfully, barely suppressing a yawn.

“Unbelievable.”

“You say that like this isn’t my standard operating procedure.”

“… That is the problem.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before shaking his head and focusing on the patient before you. It was a nasty case—multiple knife wounds across the abdomen and thigh, excessive blood loss, risk of sepsis.

The moment you started cutting, it was pure chaos. Blood loss was extreme, the heart monitor was fluctuating wildly, and the nurses were scrambling to keep up with the damage.

Through it all, you and Mydei moved in perfect sync—suctioning, stitching, clamping arteries before they could burst.

“Patient’s BP is dropping,” a nurse warned.

“We need to move faster,” Mydei said, his voice sharp.

You didn’t hesitate, maneuvering the forceps with expert precision, your breathing controlled even as tension mounted. The OR was filled with nothing but the sounds of beeping monitors and the relentless rhythm of your hands moving against time itself.

And then—

Stabilization.

The vitals steadied. The bleeding stopped. The worst was over.

You let out a long, exhausted breath, finally stepping back. “Oh my fucking god. That was hell.”

Mydei, equally exhausted, glanced at you. “At least we’re still alive.”

“For now,” you muttered, tossing your gloves into the bin.

♥♥♥

After nine surgeries in less than two days, the exhaustion finally hit you like a truck.

As you walked into the break room, Mydei following behind, you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, draping yourself over the armrest. “I am dying. This is it. Tell my story.”

Mydei raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “No.”

“Rude.”

He ignored you, instead pouring himself another cup of coffee with all the grace of a man barely holding himself together.

You peeked at him from the couch. “You know, newbie, for someone who acts all serious, you’re weirdly good at keeping up with my insanity.”

He took a slow sip of his coffee, meeting your gaze with a look of complete indifference. “Because someone has to make sure you don’t actually die from your own bad habits.”

You grinned. “Aww. You care.”

“I don’t.”

“You totally do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re looking out for me. Admit it.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I regret working here.”

“No, you don’t.”

He took another long sip of coffee, not answering.

And despite how exhausted you both were—despite the blood, the chaos, and the looming shadow of the unbelievably many cases—you couldn’t help but laugh. You then stand up, stretching your arms upwards and bending down until you feel a sense of relief. "Alright, I'm going to go in the dorm to rest now, call me if anything happens" You sluggishly say while walking outside the door, not giving Mydei a single look as you slam the door shut.

The hospital was never quiet.

Machines beeped, nurses murmured in hushed voices, and somewhere down the hall, the steady rhythm of footsteps echoed against the tiled floors. It was a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and urgency.

But for once, you weren’t in the middle of the chaos.

You had crashed in the break room after nine surgeries back-to-back, running on caffeine and pure adrenaline. The moment your body hit the couch, you were out—four hours of deep, dreamless sleep. It wasn’t enough, not even close, but at least you could function again.

You groggily blinked awake, stretching slightly as your stiff muscles protested. Something felt different.

Lifting your head, you noticed the dimmed lights and the faint chill of the air conditioning. And then—your gaze landed on the figure at the desk.

Mydei.

Fast asleep.

His arms were folded on the surface, head resting on them, his usual sharp posture completely gone. His strawberry-blonde hair, with its signature faded red tips, was a little messier than usual—strands falling over his forehead, some brushing against his closed eyes. Even the normally well-hidden red tattoos that curled faintly along his collarbone and neck were just barely visible beneath the slightly loosened collar of his uniform.

You stared.

It wasn’t like you’d never seen Mydei exhausted before—you practically lived in the trenches together, spending ungodly hours in the operating room, barely catching breaks between emergencies. But this?

You’d never seen him this unguarded.

His sharp golden eyes—usually keen, unwavering, always calculating—were closed, his breathing deep and steady. Without that intense gaze, the usual tension in his expression had softened, leaving behind something… calmer.

… Honestly? He kinda looked like a big, overworked tiger curled up for a nap.

Which made the urge to mess with him even stronger.

Still groggy, you dragged yourself off the couch and plopped down beside him. Instead of waking him up, you mirrored his position—arms folded, head resting on them.

And then—you just watched him.

Not in a creepy way, of course. 🤨

You were just… admiring.

The way his hair fell over his face, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, the faintest crease in his brow like even in sleep, his mind was still running through checklists and surgical procedures.

It was rare to see Mydei so… still.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head slightly, and without really thinking, you reached forward—lightly brushing a stray strand of his hair out of his face.

His hair was softer than you expected.

Not fair.

“… Damn,” you whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know you could actually look peaceful.”

No response.

“… Or that you had a soft side. Thought you just ran on stress and stubbornness.”

Still nothing.

You chuckled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Maybe you’d just sit here for a while.

The break room was quiet—a rare thing in a hospital where chaos never took a break. The distant hum of machines and the occasional muffled voice from the hallway were the only reminders that the world outside was still moving.

But here, at this moment, it felt like time had slowed down.

You had only meant to sit beside Mydei for a little while—maybe tease him when he woke up, maybe just steal a moment of peace. But the exhaustion that had been dragging at your bones for hours finally caught up to you.

Your breathing evened out, your eyelids grew heavier, and before you even realized it… you were out.

Your head tilted slightly, resting against your folded arms—barely a few inches away from Mydei’s.

For a while, the two of you just slept there.

The break room remained undisturbed, the dim lighting casting soft shadows over the both of you. The warmth of exhaustion settled in, and despite the hard surface of the desk, despite the stress of the hospital, you slept soundly.

It wasn’t long before Mydei stirred.

His sharp golden eyes fluttered open, blinking away the haze of sleep. It took him a moment to register where he was—the familiar scent of antiseptic, the low hum of hospital equipment, the faint chill of the AC brushing against his skin.

And then—he noticed you.

Still fast asleep.

Mydei froze.

You were so close.

Your head was resting on your arms, your breathing slow and even. Your hair was slightly messy from the way you had collapsed against the desk, a few strands falling over your face. Your usual smirk and teasing remarks were absent, leaving behind a rare, peaceful expression.

For the first time since he had met you, you looked completely relaxed.

His gaze lingered.

Longer than necessary.

The way your eyelashes rested lightly against your skin. The way your lips were slightly parted in sleep. The way your entire presence, which was usually so chaotic, loud, and restless, was now quiet and soft.

Mydei’s fingers twitched slightly—as if resisting the urge to reach forward.

He swallowed, looking away for a brief moment, but his eyes inevitably found their way back to you.

Why did you always manage to surprise him?

Every day in this hospital, you ran on energy that should’ve been impossible, pushing through sleepless nights, impossible surgeries, and the constant storm of emergencies with a smirk and a sharp remark.

But now?

Now you were just a person. A tired, overworked person who had finally given in to exhaustion.

Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“… Idiot.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no bite in it.

Just something quiet.

Something unspoken.

Something fond.

His golden eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

♥♥♥

Not even after a few minutes, his sharp golden eyes fluttered open again. And Mydei remained still, his sharp golden eyes lingering on you as you slept—your breath slow and even, lips slightly parted, exhaustion weighing heavily on your features.

It was rare to see you like this.

Usually, you were everywhere—a constant storm of motion, teasing remarks, and sharp wit. You sprinted through hallways, laughed in the face of pressure, and dragged him into surgeries without so much as a warning.

But now?

Now you looked… adorable.

A rare sight. One that made something tighten in Mydei’s chest.

Without fully thinking, his hand moved on its own.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, featherlight—hesitant, almost uncertain.

His touch was gentle, warm despite the callouses from years of steady-handed practice in surgery. He traced the faint warmth of your skin, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing, the way your eyelashes barely fluttered in sleep.

Soft.

You always carried yourself with a reckless energy, a chaotic presence that burned like an uncontrollable fire. And yet, here you were, fragile in a way he’d never seen before.

Mydei swallowed, pulling his hand away reluctantly.

You needed rest.

And if he knew you at all, the moment you woke up, you'd be right back to running through the hospital like a madwoman.

With careful movements, he shifted forward, sliding his arms beneath you.

His hands settled under your back and legs as he lifted you effortlessly—your body light in his grasp, head naturally falling against his shoulder.

You stirred slightly.

A soft murmur left your lips, barely coherent, but you didn't wake.

Mydei stiffened, pausing for a second as his heart gave a single, unexpectedly loud thud.

Then, when he was sure you wouldn’t suddenly snap awake and make some kind of smug remark, he continued moving.

Crossing the break room in a few quiet steps, he carefully lowered you onto the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath your weight, and Mydei took his time ensuring you were comfortable. He adjusted your arm so it wasn’t awkwardly twisted, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before pulling the blanket over you.

He watched for a moment.

The way your lips parted slightly in your sleep. The way you instinctively curled into the warmth of the blanket.

Then, finally, he exhaled—stepping back.

His gaze lingered.

Just a little longer.

The next day, the emergency room was in chaos again.

Another murder victim had arrived—stabbed five times across the torso. But this time, it was different. The victim was one of the kidney donors for an upcoming transplant surgery.

"Damn it," you hissed under your breath, already sprinting down the hallway. "Where’s Mydei?!"

Just like before, you spotted him walking toward the ER. Without hesitation, you grabbed his arm, dragging him along at full speed.

"Another one?" he asked, voice edged with something colder this time.

"Yeah, and it’s bad. Let’s go."

You burst into the OR, scrubbing in faster than you ever had. As you pulled on your gloves, the sight before you made your stomach drop. The victim was barely hanging on, the stab wounds deep, organs likely compromised. fuckfuckfuckfuck.

♥♥♥

The operating room was already a bloody fucking battlefield by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood. Nurses moved with trained precision, hooking up transfusions, adjusting monitors, and preparing for what would undoubtedly be a long, grueling surgery. The overhead surgical lights cast harsh illumination over the patient’s torso—five deep stab wounds, oozing dark crimson with every weakening pulse.

Heart rate: dangerously unstable. Blood pressure: crashing.

Your jaw tightened as you surveyed the damage. Stabs this deep weren’t meant to be survived. Whoever did this had aimed to kill.

“Damn it,” you muttered, snapping on your gloves. “If we don’t stop the bleeding now, he’s going into irreversible shock.”

Mydei, standing opposite you, let out a slow breath, already tying his mask over his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—scanned the wounds just as fast as yours. “Five stab wounds. Two to the upper left quadrant, three to the lower right. If the knife went deep enough, we could be looking at a perforated intestine or a renal artery injury.”

Your pulse spiked. A renal artery injury was a death sentence without immediate intervention.

“Massive transfusion protocol,” you snapped. A nurse responded instantly, prepping units of blood and plasma. “We need volume replacement now.”

Mydei nodded. “We’ll clamp first, repair later. If we go straight to suturing with this much blood loss, he’ll code on the table.”

No arguments. No wasted time. You were already reaching out.

“Scalpel.”

The cold metal handle was placed into your palm within seconds. You made your incision with expert precision, cutting through damaged tissue with just enough force to expose the internal injury without worsening it. Blood immediately welled up, pooling at the edges, but you ignored it.

“Suction,” Mydei instructed. A nurse responded instantly, clearing your field of vision.

You leaned in, eyes narrowing as you inspected the worst of the damage. “Wound number three tore straight through the abdominal muscles—there’s internal bleeding near the right kidney, but no penetration to the organ itself. Wound number five is the real problem.”

Mydei adjusted his grip on the retractor, carefully exposing the area. “It’s deep. Arterial involvement is definite.”

You exhaled sharply. “We need to clamp the renal artery now. If we don’t stop this bleed, the kidney’s gone.”

Without hesitation, he reached for the vascular clamp and maneuvered it into place, securing the artery just enough to slow the hemorrhaging without cutting off circulation completely. The heart monitor beeped erratically, a sharp, nerve-wracking rhythm reminding you both that time was running out.

Your mind worked at lightning speed. A clean suture wouldn’t be enough. The artery needed reinforcement.

“Vascular shunt,” you ordered.

The nurse handed it over, and Mydei carefully inserted the temporary tubing into the laceration, allowing blood to continue flowing while preventing further hemorrhage. It was a calculated move—buying you time to stabilize the patient before a definitive repair.

The surgery stretched into hours. Each stab wound presented a new set of complications—layers of muscle damage, ruptured capillaries, tissue trauma that required intricate repair. At one point, the patient’s vitals dipped dangerously low, sending a wave of tension through the OR.

“Heart rate’s dropping,” a nurse announced, voice tight.

You snapped your fingers, already moving. “Increase fluids, push epinephrine if needed.”

Mydei’s voice remained steady despite the pressure. “The renal artery’s secured. Moving on to muscle closure.”

You nodded, exhaling sharply as you reinforced the sutures around the artery and checked for residual bleeding. “Alright. That’s the worst of it. We’ll leave the abdomen open with a temporary closure—he’s too unstable for a full close-up now.”

The next steps were grueling. Stitching up torn muscle, ensuring no internal bleeding remained, placing protective barriers to prevent sepsis. The process required patience and absolute focus.

By the time you secured the final surgical dressing, the monitors had stabilized. The heart rate was still weak, but steady. The kidney function was preserved. Against the odds, the patient had survived.

The room was silent for a moment—no words, just the heavy weight of exhaustion and relief pressing down on you.

Then, finally, you leaned back, stretching out your stiff shoulders. “Well,” you said, voice hoarse, “that was an absolute nightmare.”

Mydei removed his gloves with that same composed expression, though there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—something unreadable. “But he lived.”

You huffed out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. He did.

The second you stepped out of the OR, the weight of the past few hours slammed into you all at once.

Your legs felt like lead, exhaustion pressing into every joint and muscle. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway blurred at the edges of your vision, and your pulse drummed sluggishly in your ears.

The moment you made it past the door, your knees buckled.

You barely had the energy to curse before your back hit the wall, and you slumped down onto the cold tile floor. Your head lolled back against the surface, eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled sharply.

“Shit.” The word came out as more of a breath than a complaint.

The sheer amount of adrenaline, focus, and precision that the surgery had required had drained you completely. Even though you’d done longer procedures before, something about this one had left you bone-tired.

Maybe it was because the patient shouldn’t have made it. Maybe it was because you’d spent every second fighting against the inevitable.

Maybe it was just the way your body was finally giving out.

A pair of footsteps stopped beside you.

You barely cracked an eye open before a shadow loomed over you.

Mydei.

Still in his surgical gown, mask pulled down, golden eyes sharp and alert. He stood over you, arms crossed, brows pinched slightly—though whether in concern or exasperation, you couldn’t tell.

“You look pathetic,” he noted, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

You gave him a half-hearted smirk. “Flatter me more, tiger.”

His expression barely flickered, though the faint twitch in his jaw told you he was holding back a sigh. Instead of responding, he simply crouched down beside you.

“You should get up.”

“I literally can’t feel my legs.”

“Tch.” A beat passed before Mydei exhaled through his nose. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and—

Grasped your wrist.

His fingers curled around your pulse point, firm and steady, grounding you to reality.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you didn’t have the energy to react beyond that.

“Pulse is weak,” he murmured.

“No shit,” you mumbled, head lolling slightly to the side as you closed your eyes again. “It’s almost like I just performed a life-saving operation or something.”

There was a long pause.

Then—before you could fully process it—you felt warmth press against your forehead.

Mydei’s hand.

His palm was broad and slightly cool, pressing against your damp skin in a way that was almost soothing. And his scent—you may have just come out of a 12-hour surgery with him but god he smelled good, a hint of raspberry, vanilla, and pomegranate? You almost leaned into his touch before stopping yourself and tightening your body.

Checking your temperature. That’s all it was. Just routine.

Still, your stomach did a strange little flip.

“You’re burning up,” he muttered. His voice was quieter now, softer, but still carrying that same weight of irritated concern.

“I’ll live,” you said, though your body very much disagreed.

He didn’t move his hand away immediately. He stayed there for a second longer, studying you. Then, finally, he pulled back, exhaling sharply.

“Come on.” He pushed himself up to his feet, then—without warning—reached down again and grasped you by the forearm.

“Wait—”

He hauled you up.

Too fast. Your body protested instantly, knees nearly buckling again.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto his coat for support.

For a moment, the two of you were far too close.

Your forehead nearly brushed against his collarbone, and in that brief second, you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slight heat radiating off of him, the faintest scent of disinfectant and something vaguely warm—like ginger and cloves.

Your fingers tightened on his coat for just a second.

His grip on your arm lingered.

Then—Mydei cleared his throat.

“You’re impossible.” His voice was gruff as he steadied you properly, making sure you could stand on your own. “I swear, if you collapse again, I’m dragging you to a bed myself.”

You forced out a weak, tired smirk. “That a promise, doc?”

He stared at you for a second. Then, with a huff, he turned on his heel.

“Break room. Now,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Before you actually pass out.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck.

With how heavy your limbs felt, you had no choice but to obey.

The break room was dimly lit, the overhead lights turned down low to keep the atmosphere calm. A faint hum from the vending machine filled the space, along with the occasional soft beep from someone’s pager in the distance.

You were lying on the couch, one arm lazily draped over your stomach, feeling much better after your forced rest. Mydei, on the other hand, sat on a chair nearby, long legs stretched out, one arm resting against the table.

He had forced you to rest. You had technically obeyed. You closed your eyes. You stayed still. You didn't pass out from exhaustion. Success.

…But now you were bored out of your goddamn mind.

Which led you to this.

“So technically, in ‘Across the Spider-Verse,’ Miguel’s entire logic about ‘canon events’ is flawed because the entire idea of a multiverse means infinite possibilities. You can’t have a strict set of events that must happen in every universe, because that would contradict the whole ‘infinite variation’ thing—”

Mydei was actually listening.

Despite his usual deadpan demeanor, he hadn’t told you to shut up or leave him alone yet. Instead, his sharp golden eyes were fixed on you, brows slightly furrowed as he processed your rant.

“…That’s assuming the multiverse follows a quantum branching system,” he said, voice calm and thoughtful. “But if we apply a more structured framework—like the Many Worlds Interpretation—then it’s possible that only specific variations of events can exist while still allowing divergence.”

You blinked. “You’re actually engaging in this conversation.”

He gave you a look. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. I expected you to roll your eyes and tell me to sleep.”

Mydei shrugged. “I don’t mind listening.”

You stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Damn. You’re a nerd.”

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips.

Undeterred, you continued.

“But Miguel is literally contradicting himself,” you argued, shifting slightly on the couch. “He says Miles wasn’t supposed to be Spider-Man, meaning he technically never had a ‘canon’ to begin with. So why would the universe force him into one now?”

Mydei tapped his fingers idly against the table. “It could be that the multiverse adapts, forming new constants based on anomalies.”

“But that would mean anyone could be Spider-Man.”

“Perhaps.” He tilted his head slightly. “Or perhaps Miguel’s mistake was believing he could control a system that was never meant to be controlled in the first place.”

You stared at him.

“…I’m actually impressed.”

He raised a brow. “You thought I wasn’t capable of holding a conversation?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to willingly entertain my Spider-Verse nonsense.”

Mydei let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly.

“…You like talking about it,” he murmured. “So I don’t mind.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart do a weird little flip.

You quickly covered it with a smirk. “Careful, doc. You’re gonna make me think you enjoy my company.”

He simply looked at you.

A pause.

Then—

“Go to sleep.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. “You were doing so well, and then you just had to ruin it.”

Mydei huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re exhausting.”

Mydei sat at the table, flipping through a patient file, but you knew he wasn’t really reading it. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, had that half-lidded, exhausted look—the kind that screamed I have five minutes before my brain shuts down.

You weren’t much better.

Despite your fake nap, sleep still refused to claim you, leaving you restless and annoyingly aware of how much your body ached from standing in surgery for hours. Your stomach twisted—not in pain, but in that weird way that told you hey, dumbass, maybe eat something before you actually collapse.

But…you’d ignored hunger before.

It’d pass.

Probably.

Then, Mydei spoke.

“Change your clothes.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze. “Huh?”

He barely looked up. “We’re going out.”

You raised a brow. “Since when do you voluntarily leave the hospital?”

“Since I realized you’re just as bad as me when it comes to taking care of yourself.” He finally met your gaze, golden eyes unwavering. “Neither of us has eaten anything real in over twelve hours. If we don’t fix that now, we’ll both be too dead to function tomorrow.”

You wanted to argue. Really, you did.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had both been running on caffeine, adrenaline, and sheer spite for the past…God, you didn’t even know how many hours.

“…Fair point.” You let out a slow breath, pushing yourself up from the couch with a groan. Holy shit, your muscles were stiff.

Mydei had already stood, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the last few hours. His hair—normally somewhat neat—was slightly disheveled, the faded red tips a little more pronounced under the dim lighting. You caught a glimpse of the faint tattoos along his neck when he stretched, but—as usual—he made sure not to expose too much.

He didn’t like drawing attention to them.

Not that you’d ever ask why.

“Alright, doc,” you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go eat before we actually drop dead.”

Mydei simply nodded, grabbing his coat.

And just like that, the two of you left the hospital behind—two overworked, half-dead surgeons, finally taking care of themselves for once.

♥♥♥

The rumble of Mydei’s bike beneath you was oddly soothing, the crisp night air rushing past as the two of you sped down the empty streets. The hospital was long behind you, and for once, you weren’t drowning in the stench of antiseptic and blood—just fresh air, neon-lit roads, and the low hum of the engine.

You leaned back slightly, arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket. He was solid. Reliable. Steady.

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“You always drive this fast?” you teased over the wind.

“Faster, usually.”

You snorted. “Damn. And here I thought you were the responsible one.”

Mydei didn’t respond, you roll your eyes and then you suddenly a hear a slow, deep amused chuckle from his side. Fake ass scary wannabe

The place Mydei picked was a small, cozy restaurant—dim lighting, warm colors, and the scent of something freshly baked lingering in the air. Definitely not the high-energy bar you half-expected him to take you to.

You slid into the booth across from him, propping your chin on your hand as you lazily glanced over the menu.

“So,” you mused, “what’s the Mydei Special?”

He barely hesitated. “Strawberry ice cream shake.”

You blinked. Paused.

Then you burst out laughing.

Mydei just stared, unimpressed. “What?”

You tried—tried—to hold back your laughter, but the mental image of this tall, buff, scary-looking man sipping on a strawberry-flavored ice cream shake like it was the most normal thing in the world was sending you.

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “you have the biggest sweet tooth, don’t you?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t deny it either.

“…It’s good,” was all he said, as if that was enough of an explanation. And you swear you see a small pout on his stern face along with a slight blush on his cheeks.

You grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re telling me, out of all the drinks on this menu, you saw ‘strawberry ice cream shake’ and went yep, that’s the one?”

“Yes.”

Your grin widened. “No regrets?”

“None.”

You shook your head, still grinning, before waving the waitress over. “Alright, alright, respect. I’ll take a limoncello.”

Mydei nodded at her. “And I’ll have the strawberry ice cream shake.”

The waitress smiled politely before walking off with your order.

You still hadn’t stopped snickering when she came back a few minutes later—with your drinks.

Only…

She placed the limoncello in front of Mydei and the strawberry shake in front of you.

Because, of course, everyone assumed the big, brooding man with golden tiger-like eyes was the one ordering alcohol, and the chaotic, snarky, sweet you was the one drinking something soft and sweet.

There was a beat of silence.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh again.

Mydei just stared at the drink in front of him.

Slowly, he looked back up at you. “Switch.”

“Wait, no, this is hilarious.”

“Switch.”

“I should take a picture first—”

“Switch.”

Now you were full-on laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually embarrassed.”

He wasn’t. Not really. But the flat stare he gave you made it so much funnier.

Eventually, you relented, swapping the drinks properly. But as Mydei sipped his strawberry shake—totally unfazed—you couldn’t help but admire just how effortlessly him he was.

Big, intimidating, and secretly soft as hell.

Yeah. You were keeping this information for blackmail later.

The ride back to the hospital was uneventful, but there was a strange sense of dread lingering in your chest. Maybe it was the way Mydei’s grip on the handlebars felt a little tense, or maybe it was the way the city lights seemed too quiet for this time of night.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was intuition.

When you stepped off the bike and walked back inside, the sterile white halls of the hospital were as cold as ever, humming under dim fluorescent lights.

But then—

You saw her.

Standing in front of the breakroom. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, piercing blue eyes locked directly onto the both of you.

Aglaea.

The hospital director.

Your stomach plummeted.

“Oh. Shit.”

You felt Mydei stiffen beside you. Not visibly—but you knew him well enough to notice.

Aglaea wasn’t like the other directors you’d met in your life. She was meticulous. Calculated. Sharp as a scalpel and just as dangerous when she wanted to be.

And right now, she was staring directly at you both like a mother catching her kids sneaking in past curfew.

“…You’re back,” she said smoothly, voice as cool as ever.

You cleared your throat, nudging Mydei slightly. Say something, idiot.

“…Yes,” Mydei said simply.

Silence.

Aglaea’s gaze slowly flickered between you and Mydei.

Then, she sighed. “Do I want to know where you two have been?”

“…Cafeteria,” you blurted.

She raised a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “The hospital cafeteria closes at 8 PM.”

“We took the long route.”

Mydei shot you a look. The ‘seriously?’ look.

Aglaea, to your absolute horror, looked vaguely amused.

“You took the long route,” she repeated, clearly not buying a damn word of it.

“…Yes,” you said again, just to commit to the lie.

For a long moment, Aglaea said nothing. Just stared at the both of you with that air of quiet superiority, as if she already knew exactly what happened and was merely giving you a chance to embarrass yourselves.

Then, finally, she sighed.

“I assume you both at least ate something?”

“…Yes,” Mydei answered.

“And slept?”

You and Mydei hesitated.

Aglaea closed her eyes briefly, as if resisting the urge to scold you both like children. Then, after a moment, she just exhaled slowly and rubbed her temple.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she muttered to herself.

You exchanged a glance with Mydei.

Then, cautiously, you asked, “Are we… in trouble?”

Aglaea opened her eyes again, looking utterly unimpressed.

“No, but you will be if you keep this up.” She gave you both a look. “Surgeons are only as good as the state they keep themselves in. If you start making a habit of neglecting your own health, I will personally ensure you take forced leave.”

You grimaced. Forced leave meant staying at home, doing nothing. Which was actual hell.

“Noted,” Mydei murmured.

“Good.” Aglaea turned, stepping aside. “Get some rest. I expect you both back on duty in four hours.”

Four hours. That was generous.

You exhaled in relief, muttering, “Understood.”

Aglaea shot one last glance with her sharp yet cool cyan-green eyes at the both of you before walking away, leaving you slumping against the breakroom door.

“…That was terrifying,” you muttered.

Mydei hummed. “She went easy on us.”

“That was her going easy?”

He didn’t answer, just pushed open the door to the breakroom. You followed him inside, stretching out with a long, tired sigh.

“Well,” you huffed, flopping onto the couch. “That went better than expected.”

Mydei didn’t respond—he was already shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto a chair before sitting down beside you.

For a long, comfortable silence, you both just sat there, the exhaustion slowly catching up.

Then, finally, you nudged him with your foot.

“…Strawberry shake,” you murmured with a teasing grin.

Mydei didn’t open his eyes. “Sleep.”

“You like cute things—”

“Sleep.”

You snickered. Maybe you’d get some rest. But only after you finished teasing him about this for another ten minutes.

♥♥♥

You didn’t even bother changing into something more comfortable before dragging yourself to the breakroom. If Aglaea was going to forcefully make you rest, you might as well do it on your own terms.

And by ‘rest,’ you meant laying on the small bed with your phone, zoning out.

Mydei followed in after you, shrugging off his coat before sitting down near the sink, his sharp golden eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

The restroom was dimly lit, the overhead fluorescent lights buzzing faintly, mixing with the hum of the hospital beyond these walls. It was quiet here. Too quiet.

You sighed, taking out your phone, plugging in your earphones, and scrolling through your playlists before finally settling on something slow, dreamy, and detached.

The soft, melancholic strum of the guitar filled your ears as you leaned back, closing your eyes. The aching tiredness in your bones was undeniable, but sleep wouldn’t come that easily.

And then—

A warm hand suddenly plucked an earbud out of your ear.

You opened one eye just in time to see Mydei casually pop it into his ear, settling beside you like he owned the place.

Your brain lagged.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.” His voice was smooth, as unreadable as ever. He leaned back slightly, his expression neutral as if he didn’t just steal your music.

You blinked at him.

Then, without thinking, you muttered, “…Double package of tits and wits.”

Silence.

Mydei slowly turned his head to look at you. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to determine whether he actually heard that right or if he was simply too tired to process it.

“Excuse me what the fuck?” "Erm.. that was a compliment"

anwyays hi i have math exam next killl me credits to my sister to helping me with all the medical knowledge 💔

[quillsnink]

Stray Kids watches you/catches you dancing suggestively part 1

A/N : There are slightly suggestive themes and tension but no smut. Also it is implied that the reader is female. Gif credit goes to the owner. I had to listen to each song on repeat while writing this 😆 to feel the vibe.

• Chris

Christmas was nearing and you had arrived home from work an hour or so ago excited because you didn't have to go to work until after New Year's. You made yourself some tea and sat down to listen to music on shuffle on the speakers, while you stared out the balcony. That was until Under The Influence by Chris Brown started playing. This song was your jam for the past few days. You kept your half-finished tea on the table beside the speaker as the song's sultry beat has you completely in it's grip. Every move feels controlled and powerful as you slowly lose yourself in the song, feeling confident, with your hands tracing the air, your hips groove to the sensual music, you were completely feeling yourself, your expressions matching the song's lyrics, "baby, you can, ride it, ooh, yeah", you dance gracefully on the floor, gyrating your hips and swaying them slowly and sensually as you rub your hands on your neck.

Chris had punched in the code and had just come in, a little intrigued as he heard music coming from the distance. He pokes his head inside the room and is frozen to the spot.

He knew you as a quiet and shy person. Although he's known you for some months now, he didn't know there was a seductive vixen hiding somewhere in you. It's always the ones with the innocent faces that can be this bold, he thought as he was taken aback with the scene in front of him. The way your body moved to the sensual beats, the way you mouthed the lyrics with the right facial expressions, every movement of yours exuding allure,power and confidence. He was mesmerized as the seconds passed and he had a mix of admiration and something else which he couldn't quite put a finger on, as he watches, hypnotized to you and he cannot even look away.

You blink suddenly fully aware that Chris was standing in the doorway, watching you. There was a thick tension in the air now, but you were feeling confident and did something your shy self would later probably regret. You got up and confidently step forward, your body moving towards him with a confident smirk playing on your lips, as his breath catches. Your movements are slow and deliberate as you're now singing along "tie it up, put a chain on it make you tattoo my name on it", you circled him,your hand brushing his shoulder singing along dangerously close to his ear as you watch them turn red. You mischievously licked the lobe of his ear and tugged a little with your teeth while you bite your lip and looked at him, smirking. He was now a blushing mess and was looking at his shoes, his ears now completely red and biting back a shy smile.

As the music continued to play in the background, you now closed the distance between you both.

"Caught me, did you ?", you smiled playfully, your gaze never leaving him.

"I ... I didn't mean to interrupt", he said, looking everywhere except at you, clearly flustered.

"Look at you, so shy", you said, as you stepped closer to him, your body brushing his. The playful smirk on your face only makes him more aware of the tension that’s building between you two. His eyes are locked on yours, and even though you can see the blush creeping up his neck, he doesn’t look away, trying to ignore the rush of feelings inside him and his heartbeat increases by the minute.

"I didn't know you had this captivating side of you", he compliments you, shyly but still enjoying the show. "Maybe next time, I could join you. For the dancing, I mean", he adds the next part quickly.

"Oh only join me for the dancing ? How sad", you pouted. "Boring", you tilted your head as you looked at him.

You walk towards the speaker and turn off the music, your eyes still glued to him as you pick up the cup of tea which was completely forgotten.

"Care to join me for some tea Channie and then we can discuss more on this?", you winked at him as you brushed past him towards the kitchen.

• Minho

(Without a Taemin song, the scenario would feel incomplete). 🤭

Lee Minho, better known by his stage name Lee Know, was your older brother's best friend, just fourteen months your senior. Your brother was an idol in an SM boygroup and was currently on tour, so there was no one to help you supervise your dance practice for your next YouTube dance cover. Your subscribers wanted you to dance to a Taemin song and you were a bit anxious as you wanted to make the perfect cover. I mean it was Taemin after all, one of your favourite idols and not to forget, one of your brother's close friends in the industry so he was bound to show Taemin your dance cover of his song.

So here you were, with Minho in your makeshift studio and the air is thick with tension and focus as you begin your suggestive dance. You were feeling a little self conscious as you knew Minho was watching and he was someone who expected perfection when it came to dance and you were here to deliver so.

Your movements begin to match the alluring and seductive beats of the song as you mouthed the lyrics because it made you feel the song more.

"비밀스럽게 너를 나에게 따라줘 fill it up more, fill it up more Oh 너로 채워지고 싶" (follow me secretly, fill it up fill up more, I want to be filled with you)".

Minho watches intently, arms crossed, silently assessing your performance, his eyes full with concentration and evaluating your every move . He's seen you dance before but never this intensely like this choreography and sensually. He's secretly proud that you're pushing your boundaries. He's a professional but that doesn't stop his gaze from wandering to your form as your movements and the lyrics become more intense. His jaw tightens when you hit a particular move, biting your lips, now completely into the song and he's wondering whether to give you constructive feedback or focus on how he was feeling seeing you dance like this, something stirring inside him. His composed demeanor is now tested as he's meant to give feedback without being distracted.

"Focus on the intention behind the movement, it's not only about being seductive but also embodying the confidence the song requires", he says distractedly as he's trying his best to stay professional. He steps in to correct your posture from a respectable distance, not even touching you, but still close enough. His minimal touch makes you a little nervous from his close proximity and the chemistry that lingers between you two.

"You should feel the lyrics too", his words are not just about technique now but something personal on a deeper level.

"아무리 넘쳐도 모자라 아직 네 사랑에 목말라" (no matter how much it overflows it's not enough, I'm still thirsty for your love). When you hit the final parts, he suddenly joins you in the routine, mirroring your movements in sync, both of you caught in the flow of the dance.

Naturally you both dance closer to each other, and the room seems smaller now, the space between you gradually decreasing and his eyes meet yours with an electric gaze. He doesn't break the gaze and the tension between you thickens. As the song fades out, there’s a heartbeat of silence. You’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart now. His hand finds yours, holding it softly as if he’s reluctant to let go. Neither of you moves, caught in the moment that lingers, the air still thick with the chemistry that’s been building throughout the dance.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Do not forget the essence of the song. Own it," he whispers, his hand still entangled with yours, as you both breathe in and out roughly, your foreheads now touching, both of you making eye contact, him looking at your lips and then back to your eyes, with something unspoken lingering in the air.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, follow if you do. Meanwhile you can find my masterlist here.

[zozowrites]

I Lied

Emily Prentiss x BAU!fem!reader

words: 1.8k

Warnings: kissing, canon typical violence (happy ending)

A/N: this was originally inspired by the song I Lied by Housewife, and then I kept writing and it took a turn (oopsies). Also not proofread.

For game nights at Penelope’s, you could always depend on fun mixed drinks and maybe a hangover the next morning. This is why you enjoyed nights at Rossi’s better; eating good, homemade Italian food, drinking good wine, and dancing with your friends and coworkers would never let you down. 

Reaching for the bottle or red, Emily refills her glass and tops of your own, absently letting the strap of her tank top slip off her shoulder. She doesn’t seem to care that you’re watching her with a hint of friendly want in your eye. The silky cream of the tank top perfectly complimented her brown slacks and black hair. It somehow brought out the red of her lipstick in a way that made it match the wine she was bringing up to her lips, after she had clinked her glass against yours with a wink. You were also a little wine-drunk, but it didn’t escape your mind to know the added swing in Emily’s hips was because she wanted you to watch her walk away. 

As the night came to a close, everyone paired off to head back to their respective homes, and it only felt right that you and Emily split a cab. 

When the car stopped outside of her apartment building, she paid for the cab and you didn’t resist when she grabbed your hand to pull you out of the car and up the steps with her. 

She lets go when you reach her door, so that she can unlock it. In the silence it dawns on you that you’re maybe standing too close. You can’t escape the awkward feeling. 

“What are you doing?” Emily asks and pushed the door open. It’s almost like she could read your thoughts. 

“I’m making sure you get home safe.” Is all that you could respond with. Technically true. 

She rolls her eyes and doesn’t need to grab your wrist again to know you’ll follow her inside. She hands you a glass of water, clinking it with her own like she did to your wine glass earlier in the night. 

However this time she doesn’t walk away. She lingers in front of you, sets her glass down on the counter to your left and rests her other hand on the other side, so close to you that when you breathe the soft warmth of your hip brushes over her wrist. 

She’s searching your eyes, but for the first time with Emily you don’t know what she’s looking for. You had spent a good two years as coworkers before the line got a little blurry. You’ve spent the last ten months sharing looks and jokes and whispers on the jet, or long talks in the hallways of hotel rooms on trips. The pair of you seemed to communicate the most through your eyes. Quick glance on the jet, playing off of each other’s ideas in meetings, or the look of simple understanding, when to anyone else it likely wouldn’t feel that simple at all. Of course there were the lingering touches, the flirty quips, and the occasional gentle and worried gaze, because no complicated relationship could be complete without those too, right? 

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, and you were certain Emily could hear it. If only your mind could think about something other than what Emily’s lips might feel on yours for long enough to feel embarrassed. Or better yet, get your wits about you. This was your coworker, after all. This was your friend, after all. Because that’s what you two were, right, friends? 

“I’m not staying over,” You blurt out. Jumping the gun, you know, and she knows you know, seeing it in your eyes. 

“Okay,” Emily whispers, having gotten closer in the time your mind had spent running in place. “Just a little taste, at least until we’re sober?” 

She asks it as a question in her eyes but a statement in her words. 

You don’t have to nod, you just have to let the warmth of the moment, not caring that maybe it’s the wine or Emily’s enveloping aroma. She takes a step closer to bring one of her legs slightly in-between yours and her lips are quick to follow. 

Soft and full and warm and the perfect amount of wet, every physical feeling you’ve ever experienced before fails to even draw close to what you feel. Remembering to kiss her back, you follow her lead of taking in slow, moving your lips with hers in a perfect rhythm. Like the two of you were designed for this. 

Break for air and her hips against yours, the cold counter cutting through your own lacy-hemmed shirt. Goosebumps run up her back and you follow them with your fingers, twisting the hair at the nape of her neck around your fingers to bring her mouth back down to yours. 

A few more seconds and then you tug lightly, and it earns a soft moan from Emily, which is immediately swallowed by the relative silence in the rest of her apartment. 

It kicks you to your senses and you pull her face away by your grip on her hair. 

“What?” She asks, eyes searching your face before resting on your own eyes, which makes her thumbs stop rubbing the small circles into your hips that you hadn’t noticed until it stopped. 

“I’m not staying over.” You repeat yourself, not sure if you’re trying to tell her or yourself. 

“It’s too late to take a car, I’ll sleep on the couch.” She says and starts to gather different things from around the apartment. 

You stop her with a hand on her shoulder, keeping her still and pressing your front into her back to lean over and kiss her temple gently. 

“I won’t take a car if you don’t sleep on the couch.” 

She turns to look in your eyes and suddenly she gets it. 

“Ah, plausible deniability.” She says, smile growing over her sharp features. 

And so you don’t take a car and she doesn’t sleep on the couch. Instead you fall asleep innocently wrapped in each other’s arms in her bed, the soft linen twisted between your intertwined legs. 

Soon, Friday nights became your favorite nights. Before, it used to be Saturday, since you had a normally free day behind you and a hopefully free day in front of you. 

Friday’s had surpassed it when after the next few weeks of long cases ended with a night at the bar with the team, or a night at Derek’s or Penelope’s or Rossi’s. And that meant that your night ended with Emily’s sweet lips on yours. 

And then somehow when there weren’t team activities, you two still had plans on Friday evenings. You cooked steaks and drank wine and made out at your place one week, then binged movies and ice cream and got to kiss each other’s sticky lips the next. And somehow along the way alcohol wasn’t even involved anymore. 

“New case,” JJ says as she walks briskly into the bullpen, pulling you out of your planning for the weekend. Maybe you’d do a chill night in and something in the morning? A bookstore or a cafe or something. Maybe a walk along the mall. 

Everyone got out of their seats and made their way to the conference room, where JJ explained the series of three murders with the same MO but dying in seemingly random places. Wheels up to Oklahoma in 30. 

Two days into the case and you knocked on the door of a woman who said she had information on the killer but refused to leave her house or give it over the phone. Yourself and Reid took out your badges and she let you in when she answered, all slightly frazzled hair with a green shawl wrapped around her. 

She led you to the living room, where you sat on sofas across from each other, a few cups of piping hot tea sending rolls of steam into the air between you, bringing the soft smell of earl grey with it. 

The conversation was long, and the woman had nothing much to say, but each time one of you tried wrapping up the conversation, she said she had something more and proceeded to then talk in circles, still saying not much at all. 

You had enough. Confidently, you stood up and reached out for the woman’s hand, intending to thank her for her time and explain that you had to go on your way. She took your outstretched hand and yanked it down to her level, still in her seat. This caused your head to go crashing down towards the tray of tea, and one of the fragile cups shatters on the impact with your forehead, making blood gush from your face. 

Waves of searing pain start to rip through your body, starting in your head and the woman tightens her grip on your neck, which you didn’t even know she had. You can’t help but let out a cry, not really sure what it was adding to the scene. 

Through the little you could see, Emily appeared in the corner of your eye, and you guess it was Reid who knocked the woman out, and she fell to the ground, subsequently leaving you to collapse into Emily’s arms. 

The extra kerfuffle had left you seemingly unscathed, although it did require an extra day in Oklahoma for you to be medically cleared. That was more than enough time to explain to you and Reid (who had worked out this theory on his own over the course of the physical encounter) that the woman was actually the unsub you had been looking for, and the team had luckily figured out that she poisons her victims with tea. 

Emily follows you onto the plane, and instead of sitting in her regular chair, she opts to sit next to you on the couch. After what you thought was a respectable amount of time, you lean your head against her shoulder. She takes a deep breath and slips her hand into yours, reveling in the comfort of your proximity, of knowing you were still alive. She had a funny mixture of feelings swelling up in her. Something had shifted the moment she heard your scream and ran straight into the house, against Hotch’s orders. It was like she had no control, no thoughts in her head. She needed to get to you.

The rest of the team seems to share a knowing look, which anyone could have picked up on, profiler or not. All your friends were catching on. Neither you or Emily seemed to mind that people had some guesses or assumptions about what was going on. You didn’t care, as long as she kept her hand in yours. And she had plenty of time to sort out her own feelings later. For now, she'll make sure you get home safe.

[yzzart]

hii love!! i'm new to your work but i've fallen deeply in love with your writing and your way of writing Tom 😭😭 i absolutely love the actress!au stories so i thought about one myself: where tom and reader are already in a established, public relationship; and they attend a gala or some kind of event together, and maybe one of them had to host or talk in front of the guests and they keep mentioning and talking about each other. and the fans are going crazy after that interaction 💘 thank youuu

"A peculiar moment."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: at an event and being the host, Tom interviews the first person of the night, you.

word count: 1.452!

“You look so beautiful, Y/n!”

A mix of voices asking, clamoring for photos, autographs or at least a four-second attention exclaimed in your ears and of course, echoed throughout the environment. — Also, accompanied by several flashes, one stronger than the other, from cameras; it bothered you a little, but nothing too profound.

After all, besides being used to it, this had already become a routine for you.

Walking, carefully and holding a small part of your dress so you don't trip in your steps, to a large one that separated the fans from a part of the carpet, you are greeted by more screams, compliments and smiles. — Along with several photos of you, posters for "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" and other films that featured you, and some notebooks looking for her autograph. — Doing your best, you tried, completely, to pay attention to everyone.

There came a time when you needed to draw on a fan's arm, because she warned you that she was going to get a tattoo; a completely surprising request for you. — There were a lot of people, so paying attention to all of them was a very difficult job, but you did your best to welcome and talk to them. — Also, thanking everyone for the support and so much love.

After a specific period of time, which was a little long, preparations for future brief interviews had already begun, along with the photo sessions; the cameras were already recording and capturing everything that passed in front of their lenses. — A good number of the interviewers were already organized, talking and interviewing some people and some were talking to the event employees.

The environment was magnificently exquisite and dazzling; flowers of different colors, but most of them reddish in pigmentation, possibly intended to match the red carpet and the charming decorations that were present. — Everything was impeccable. — And the lights, lighting matching the color palettes.

Continuing to walk along the carpet, and being careful with your steps in your dress, you greet the photographers, quickly answering questions about your well-being and requesting attention for their respective cameras. — While posing, smiling, in a gratifying way, you looked for a certain person who was scheduled to be present at the event.

Perhaps, it could be considered a little rude as your eyes were roaming, freely and lightly, across the large hallway as the flashes captured your every movement. — Well, just maybe. — But your chest was anxious, more than usual, during your silent and barely disguised search.

"Here, Y/n!" — An unknown voice passed through your ears, removing your thoughts from your attention and consideration, and the owner of the request waved holding his camera; trying to attract your focus and succeeding. — "That!" — His small smile of gratitude became visible.

Even though he directed a smile accompanied by a pose for the camera, fulfilling the photographer's request, your eyes remained on his objective, but in a discreet and not so flashy way. — In each flash, you moved your eyes to the side and observed person by person. — Until, instantly, your eye sockets collided with the image of a familiar person. — He turned around quickly, and finally his eyes met yours.

Holding a microphone, which had a marking saying "host", and standing next to the camera that was in front of him, Tom watched your photo session with a proud smile. — The recording, which was live, did not focus on his entire smile, just a part of it. — He wasn't just watching, he was admiring, contemplating you; he always did it and could never get tired of it.

Tom received an exclusive invitation, considered splendid by you, to host the event; a large and responsible role and mission, too. — It was a great emotion, at the same time you received it, your boyfriend immediately told you; and, of course, you were the first to know about it. — Therefore, one of his fundamentalist roles included interviewing the guests.

Blyth was nervous, that was obvious, but also confident; perhaps, due to the fact that you would be the first person he would interview that night.

Your genuine, radiant smile went through the photos and stood out among them, making them all magnificent, and already being planned to be posted. — And the photographers were more than satisfied. — Before leaving and heading towards the interview point, you moved your head towards some cameras and said goodbye to them.

The small point, which resembled a small stage, where the host's interviews began was not far from where you were; Just a few steps and you could walk without any problems or worries about your dress. — Something you were grateful for, mentally.

It was only when you were going up, on one of the steps of the small stage, that you needed a little help. — Your boyfriend offered his hand towards you, which you quickly accepted, and carefully directed you onto the platform. — And yet another camera focused on you, now, broadcasting everything live.

"Look who we have here." — Remembering the microphone in his hands, Tom brought it to her mouth, at an appropriate distance. — "Good night, y/n!" — He tilted his head, with an inviting smile paying attention to the sparkle in his eyes while directing the microphone towards you.

"Good night, Tom!" — You answered. — "How are you, darling?" —Imitating your gesture, your head is tilted, delicately awaiting his answer.

"Better now and you?" — Tom raised his eyebrows, uttering a answer that was perhaps bold but sincere; and there was no trace of concern, even in front of the cameras.

"I can say the same." — Your eyes roamed to a small point that cried out for your attention, the necklace he wore; the one where your initial was carved. — It was the third time Tom had worn it in public; an action that enchanted you. — "I can actually say the same."

"On a night as beautiful as this, did you come with someone?" — He decided to play, relax with you, acting as if your relationship wasn't public; you laughed, understanding what it was about.

"Oh, unfortunately not!" — Your ears heard a brief laugh from the people working behind the cameras. — "However, i met a guy, by pure coincidence, who has your name and looked like you, but i lost track of him." — Anyone would be impressed by how quickly you created that story, Tom thought it was funny. — "He's an incredible man, in fact, a special man to me."

"From your words, i can see that." — Your boyfriend didn't seem embarrassed at all, he was appreciating your words, even though they were short and also coming from a small joke; Tom had forgotten where he was, in fact. — "I know him?" — You turned your eyes upward, pretending to be thoughtful.

"I don't think so, but it should." — A corner of your lower lips were nibbled by your teeth. — "I feel like he's definitely a charming man in my life." — You shook your head, confirming your words, losing the meaning of the little joke. — "The only downside is that i lost track of him."

"I'm sure you'll find him soon, my dear." — Blyth assured with a beautiful smile on her beautiful face, which was probably accompanied by a reddish tone on her cheeks. — "You're perfect, my love." — In just a few seconds, the joke was put aside; Tom couldn't resist, much less you. — "Always is."

"Just like you, dear." — You approached of the oldest, subtly placing your hand on his arm and placing a kiss on his cheek; it was a little slow, but not so slow as to complain, and Tom would never dare make a complaint. — "See you soon?" — You referred to the end of the interviews.

"Of course, love." — He replied holding your hand; noticing the only ring on your finger, the one he gifted you. — "It looks like someone is going to be reunited with a certain companion." — Tom commented, looking briefly at the camera with one eyebrow raised and helping you get down from the small platform.

Tom admired and followed your steps with his eyes, contemplating your sweet smile when greeting people; If he had the chance, he would spend his entire time watching you. — And even forgetting that it was being recorded and broadcast to thousands of people.

Now, it seemed that there was a mark, so soft and delicate, of a kiss with lipstick present on his cheek, it was not very visible, only if it came very close to his face. — The camera managed to capture and notice the small mark, bringing it into focus.

And your fans brought immense focus to the point of commenting about it on twitter, causing an insane moment for them.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

detention

requested

a/n: yuggghhhh cheerleader!mads brainrot

pairing: cheerleader!madison beer x f!jock!reader

warnings: smuuuut!! cursing, oral & fingering (mads receiving), almost getting caught, public sex.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

“detention!”

your teacher yelled at you as you knocked over the bunsen burner after fooling around with your other teammates. you were meant to be doing an experiment that required you to mix several compounds together.

you and your two other teammates couldn’t be bothered with chemistry, it was one of your weak subjects and you preferred to have fun with it when you could.

when you three mixed together random compounds, you found yourselves creating a concoction that started to overflow out of its beaker. you flooded the entire table with it and while stepping back, you knocked someone else’s bunsen burner & several beakers over.

when the teacher called out your name, you just smiled sheepishly. “sorry miss! we just couldn’t tell which one it was!”

your teacher, ms. johnson, was probably the strictest one in the school, even if it wasn’t your fault, she would have found a way to send you to detention anyways.

“to the principal’s office you go. you need a detention slip and you need to fill out an incident report.” ms. johnson said, grabbing the back of your varsity jacket and throwing you in the direction of the door. “you’ll do detention today after school.”

your girlfriend sat on the opposite side of the room, next to one of the other cheerleaders as well. you walk over to her while walking over to the exit, you lean over the table as an attempt to talk to her.

“i hate keeping my girl waiting but looks like our date is gonna have to wait, baby.” you said, kissing her cheek. you were completely shameless about your love for madison, you wanted everyone to know she was yours at all costs. you revelled in the fact that you managed to get the most beautiful girl in the school to be yours.

“maybe… or maybe not.” she said, her chin being held up by her hand. “i can’t stay away for very long.” she said, biting her lip while turning to look at you.

you looked at her in confusion for a second before you felt the back of your jacket get grabbed again.

your teacher pushed you towards the door, your eyes looked away from madison and at the path in front of you so you wouldn’t trip. suddenly, you heard several instances of glass shattering.

“ms. beer!” ms. johnson exclaimed in fury. beer?!

your eyes shot around to see that madison had deliberately shattered several beakers, holding another one in her hand.

“you two…” the older woman grumbled, “go.” she said, directed at you, “i have to deal with this one here.”

while you got shoved towards the open door, basically stepping outside. you winked at madison, a smirk growing on her face. she matched that smirk and gave you a wave with just her fingers, blowing a kiss right after.

fuck, this girl will be the death of you.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you had the rest of the day away from madison. your schedules didn’t line up and the principal escorted you to your class so you couldn’t even stall for time to see her at the office.

you sat in the classroom, your homework sitting right in front of you. neither of you had practice today so you were mainly waiting for madison to finish up class, if she had secured that detention from ms. johnson as well.

you thought back to chemistry, a smile growing on your face at how madison would have done absolutely anything to spend time with you. you couldn’t help but be turned on by the idea of rewarding her for it in this very classroom.

the door swung open and there she was, your cheerleader girlfriend in all her glory, escorted in by another teacher to make sure she got there.

ms. johnson was in charge of detention today. she kept you two seperated in different parts of the room. madison was all the way in the front and you were in the very back. that didn’t stop you from staring at her though.

she was testing you. whenever she stretched and her uniform top would rise up a bit too high, revealing the skin of her back. whenever she would shift in her seat and her skirt bunched together or lowered itself, revealing her lacy pink underwear. she was testing how far you were willing to go to please her.

she couldn’t turn around or else she’d get in trouble, she knew that. but she hated not being able to see how hard you were biting your lip to keep yourself contained.

ms. johnson finally cracked and excused herself to go to the bathroom. you knew the staff bathroom was across campus and ms. johnson refused to use student ones.

now was your chance.

you practically sprinted across the room, kneeling down behind madison’s chair.

“hey babygirl…” you whispered, a grin on your face.

“hi there… was it working?” madison chuckled.

“oh yes it was.” you nodded, pushing her hair away from her neck and placing soft kisses. “you’re so fucking pretty.”

“i couldn’t let detention keep us away from each other.” she sighed, craning her neck to let you in closer.

“of course not… i would have missed you too much.” you reached around to grope her breasts over the fabric of her cheerleading uniform. you pulled away for a second. “where did your bra go?” you asked.

“took it off before i came here.” she shrugged.

“you know me too well.” you continued to kiss her neck, your hand slipping under her shirt, massaging one of her boobs.

madison felt heat build up in her lower half, soft moans emitting from her lips. she knew the location wouldn’t stop you no matter how public or risky it was, and she thrived off of the fact that you needed her no matter what.

“c’mere.” you said, standing up and pulling her with you. you pinned her against the teacher’s desk, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. she wrapped her arms around you and tangled one of her hands in your hair.

“are you about to fuck me on the teacher’s desk?” she asked while still against your lips.

“yes. any protest?” you pulled away, lifting the top half of her uniform to free her unrestrained breasts. you felt yourself moan softly upon seeing them.

“no. not at all.” she shook her head. you kissed her again and she pushed your letterman jacket off you. she gripped your arms as you two kissed, she loved how toned you were getting the more you exercised. you lifted her then pushed her down so she was laying on her back on the desk.

you pushed her legs up, bending them so her feet were flat on the desk. you knelt down, you surprised yourself when you realised she wasn’t wearing panties either.

“baby!” you gasped a little. “is that why you took ages to come? were you stripping your clothing away?” you said, running your finger along her soaking slit.

her fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk, she whined softly. “no…! i had class too.”

“too?” you chuckled. “so you were stripping.”

“shut up and just fuck me, will you? we don’t have the time.” madison smacked your arm from where she was, tilting slightly to look at you. “make it quick.” she ordered.

“as my princess wishes.” you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around her aching cunt. your tongue flicked against her clit and you felt her start to rut against your face.

god, she was needy.

you made swift work of sucking and biting her clit, anything to get her closer to her orgasm. you gripped her ankles as you felt them start to shake, planting them down harder so you would have more access. you reached up in between her leg, one of your hands toying with her nipple as you let her noises fill the room.

she was holding onto her other tit, softly whimpering as she ground herself against your face. your nose and chin were covered in her arousal.

“fuck, baby.” she choked out, a sharp inhale following it. “you eat me out so good. love seeing you in between my legs.” her head fell backwards and her eyes rolled into her skull. “feels so fucking good.”

her arousal mixed with your saliva was forming a pool on the desk, you’d never gotten her this wet before. you thought that the risk of being caught at school made it better for her, after all, she loved making sure people knew how good you made her feel.

you slipped two fingers into her hole, moving them without letting her adjust. she gasped, her head jolting up.

“mmmmmm…” she cried out, her bottom lip captured between her teeth. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” she said with cut off breaths.

“that’s it baby, doing so good. you’ve gotta cum for me now or we’ll both get caught.” you edged her on, feeling her walls clench around your two fingers.

“i wanna get caught with you.” she whispered out through her labored breaths, her chest rising and falling. “wanna make sure everyone knows you fuck me best.”

you chuckled against her clit, you loved how possessive she got at times. the vibrations from your laughter sent her over the edge.

“gonna— gonna cum!” she yelled, her hands flying to your hair and pushing your face deeper into her. “ohh… fuck!” she cried out, her upper body arching backwards as she came all over your face. you stuck your tongue out to help her ride her high out, pulling your fingers out of her and standing up.

you walked over to where her face was, she was practically sprawled across the desk. you put your two fingers against her lips, forcing them into her mouth.

“yeah baby, taste yourself.” you said. her tongue swirled between your digits, licking up her cum.

you heard footsteps approach. you two quickly ran back to your seats. madison struggled, her legs nearly giving out but you assisted her in getting back. she pulled her shirt back down and fixed her shirt. you picked up your jacket and quickly threw it back on, practically falling into your seat.

ms. johnson walked in, glaring at the two of you. you made it look like you were doing work, madison made it look like she was putting her stuff away.

“okay, detention’s over. go home, don’t cause any trouble.” ms. johnson said, leaving the door open for the two of you.

you and madison left the premises hand in hand, her giggling was music to your ears.

“i can’t believe we just did that.” she said.

“i can. you’re too impatient.” you retaliated, nudging her waist with your elbow.

“okay… fair enough. drive me home?” she asked, smiling up at you with all her teeth out. those pleading eyes were hard to resist. “and stay?”

“mmm… how could i ever say no to that?”

“you can’t.” she shook her head at you, biting her lip.

“okay, i’ll drive you.” you gave in to her too quickly.

“perfect… i’ll even give you a little treat for it.”

“y’know, you say that and always end up fucked out.” you joked, tilting your head at her with raised eyebrows.

“i love being fucked out. especially by you.”

“madison! you kiss your mother with that mouth?!” you exclaimed, walking with her to your car.

“what’re you gonna do about it?”

“fill it.”

[enwoso]

Can you maybe write a keira walsh angst fic where reader is her girlfriend and they have opposite schedules for a few weeks maybe keira has England camp and when she came back reader has a work trip and they are just upset they haven't been able to spend time together

out of reach | keira walsh

masterlist

keira stood in the doorway of her apartment suitcase still in hand and sighed. the quiet was deafening. no scent of a home cooked dinner, no music playing in the background and most crushing of all, no you.

her eyes scanned the familiar space, her heart sinking just that little lower with each step she took further inside. it wasn’t the first time she’d come back to an empty home recently but with each time it happened it didn’t seem to make it any easier.

the past few weeks has been an endless cycle of missed calls and unanswered texts. england camp had demanded every ounce of her energy and the difference in schedules between the two of you made connecting with each other nearly impossible.

whenever she’d finally found a spare minute to call you, you’d be swamped with your own work. each conversation felt rushed and like it was an obligation instead of the comfort she so desperately needed and wanted.

as she dropped her suitcase near the door, her movements heavy with frustration and fatigue. the silence of the apartment felt oppressive and a stark contrast to the notice in her head.

the note you’d left on the kitchen counter caught her eye and she picked it up with trembling hands.

‘kie, i’m so sorry we keep missing each other. another work trip came up last minute. i’ll can you when i can. i love you, always. and don’t forget to eat something decent, okay? - y/n’

setting the note down carefully, her chest tightening as she leaned against the counter. the words were kind, loving even but they weren’t enough.

nothing felt like enough right now - not your reassurances, not her efforts to stay positive. the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore.

keira sank into the couch, staring blankly at the wall as she replayed the last few weeks in her mind, every missed moment and stilted conversation. the ache in her chest grew sharper with each memory.

—

when you finally called a few days later, keira didn’t answer right away. her phone vibrated on the coffe table as she stared at your name on the screen. it took three full rings before she moved to pick it up.

“hi,” she said her voice low and flat as she sunk back into the couch as your bright smile dropped almost immediately at your girlfriends moody demeanour.

“kei?,” you said softly you voice carrying a mix of warmth and hesitation as you chose your next words very carefully. “you okay?”

“fine.” she replied curtly. it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up not after weeks of feeling like she was always the one holding on while you drifted further away from her.

a heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the faint sounds of staff wandering past as you stood outside the conference room having a fifteen minute break.

“baby, talk to me.” you finally said, you tone gentle but firm.

she let out a cruel bitter laugh as she ran a hand through her hair, “what’s there to say? your not here and i’m just.. tired.”

“tired? tired of what?” you asked cautiously as you looked around everyone wandering back into the room where you were holding the conference as you wandered to a quieter place in the building, finding a seat on a ridiculously bright green chair which unfortunately matched the walls.

“of this,” keira snapped, her voice rising slightly. “of coming home to an empty apartment. of weeks of not seeing you, of hardly talking. of feeling like i’m the only one who-“

she cut herself off, biting down on the words that were on the tip of her tongue as they almost spilled out. she didn’t want to say it. she didn’t want to admit just how lonely she felt, how much she questioned whether you still cared as much as she did.

“like your the only one who what?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly as your eyebrows knitted together.

keira closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. but the dam had already broken. "like i'm only one who is trying!" she burst out as her eyes bubbled with tears. "it's just so hard now, your always working, always gone when i come home and then i'm just.. here. alone"

her words hung in the air, raw and heavy. on the other end of the line you were silent for a moment, long enough that keira had started to regret saying anything at all.

"and you think this is all so easy for me?" you said quietly, your voice laced with hurt, hurt that she would even think of anything like this. "you really think i like being away from you? that i don't miss you every second of every day?"

keira opened her mouth to respond but you didn't let her, didn't give her the chance.

"i'm doing my best here, kei. i don't know what else you want from me," you continued, your voice breaking. "you know i'm trying to run a business. im exhasted and all i want is to be in your arms and i thought you understood this"

the pain in your voice cut through the girl like a knife, keira swallowed hard, her tears stinging her eyes, "i do understand as i know your always understanding of my schedule" she said her voice cracking. "but that doesnt make it any easier. i just.. i miss you, y/n so much and every time i finally get a chance to breath you're not here. and i know it's not your fault but it still hurts"

your sigh comes through the line, heavy with exhaustion and emotion, "it hurts me too kei," you said softly, trying your best to control your breathing, "but we can't keep doing this. we can't keep hurting each other like this. if we don't figure this out.."

you didn't finish you sentence, but the unspoken words hung between you. keira's breath hitched as the weight of it all pressed down leaving an uncomfortable heavy feeling in her chest.

"i don't want to lose you," she said, barely audible.

"and i don't want to lose you." you replied, "but something has to change. keira, we need to find a way to make this work cause i can't feeling like i'm failing you."

keira wiped at her eyes, her heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. "i don't know how to fix this," she admitted.

"we'll figure it out." you said, your tone firm despite the sadness in it. "and the first step is with me coming home, tomorrow."

keira nodded along, even though you couldn't see her the words not fully processing in her head for a couple of seconds, "ok- wait no you have to finish the con-"

"no, kei. i'm coming home tomorrow morning. the conference can wait. my girl needs me. and plus whose gonna stop me, cause last time i checked i was in charge." you let a small giggle as keira hummed before mumbling an 'i love you' as you did the same thing

"i'll see you tomorrow morning, my love"

the call soon ended after, keira sat in the quiet apartment once more, the weight of your word lingering but this time she felt a little lighter knowing by this time tomorrow you'd be back in her arms again.

and true to your words, you walked through the door - well you got two steps into the apartment before keira was engulfing you in a tight hug. and while it didn't erase the pain or the distance of the past few weeks, it was a start and in the right direction. a promise to keep fighting for each other, even when it hurt and seemed out of reach.

[fanged-fanfics]

Had idea because I love red velvet in his BAD4 outfit...

Imagine reader being a shy fan of BAD4 who loves going to their shows and one point...Red velvet notices them aaaaaand let's just say when y/n pulls out their normal ticket...suddenly, much to their surprise, y/n discovered that their ticket was bumped up to vip or mvp...and next thing they know, at some point...they find themselves backstage with hellhound, their crush and y/n gets attention and a hug...bet they grow even closer when y/n reveals that they love cakehounds...

A fan of hellhound plus a cakehound lover with the hellhound himself who happens to be the general of cakehounds...a match made in heaven lol!

☆ Starlight and Pawprints — BAD4 Red Velvet x Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a kinda-AU where BAD4 is this popular boy band when the CODs get some freetime

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You were beyond thankful that you had managed to snag a ticket to see your favorite band perform in an abandoned segment of a city. BAD4 might not have been on the same level as Shining Glitter or Parfait, but you held them as close to your heart as any pop stars. Tickets had become hot on the market with time, and you had just barely secured one. It was a little odd, it seemed like one had been added to the roster right after you swore they were sold out. But either way, you were ecstatic, and made sure to dress in red and black to match the themes of the concert.

You wore a little keychain displaying the head of the staff/microphone mix your favorite member of the band, Hellhound, carried with him at all times. It was hard to find good quality merchandise in your price range, but you beamed as you stood in the crowd with it on your bag. The performance blew you away, awestruck to see the members performing live. A red-haired cookie with a neat outfit and glasses appeared, tapping you with the end of her pen. You turned, seeing the boys' manager right before you.

"Your badge" she said simply, tapping it as it hung on your collar. "Huh? Oh-" you began, holding it out for her to see. She inspected it, turning it around and seeing a golden sticker on the back. A VIP mark. She nodded as she dropped her hold, letting it fall neatly back onto your shirt "Come backstage when the show ends". As she walked off, you stood there stunned. You hadn't even noticed the sticker when the badge came in, too excited to have snagged one at all. How did a VIP ticket become available so suddenly, and for so cheap?

You were still mulling over it once the show ended, even as you walked backstage and the manager opened up the door for you to enter backstage. You felt your breathing hitch when you saw him there, Hellhound himself. He turned to see you, and you couldn't help grinning when his blue eye met yours. "You've got a pass?" Hellhound asked, and you nodded "Yeah! It was such immense luck, but- I'm really happy to be meeting you guys!"

Hellhound glanced to ZZ Skull, who gave him a little smirk before bounding up to you "Welcome, welcome! You must be quite the fan! And a Cookie of good taste". You chuckled while shaking his hand, Hellhound stepping up beside you. His eyes caught sight of your keychain, and his visible eye softened a bit. He reached out his clawed hand, taking the charm into his hold "Wow.. did you make this?". "Ah-" you began, feeling yourself flush "No, I bought it. It reminded me of you"

Hellhound cracked a small smile "It's amazing. Just like Cakehounds". "I love Cakehounds!" You replied brightly, and Hellhound perked up "Me as well! I've always had a fondness for them". "That's so cool! I knew your staff was modeled after one, but Cakehounds have always been a big interest of mine". "Maybe we could compare notes sometime" Hellhound offered. You felt yourself blush more, and Hellhound gave you a smile "Only if you want to"

"That would be amazing" you said. It didn't escape your attention how ZZ Skull and the others were watching with interest, sometimes snickering at seeing you both. Hellhound gave them a glare over his shoulder, effectively silencing them. He sighed as he turned back to face you "We can exchange information in a moment, once they aren't around to laugh". "Sounds great" You replied with a little nod. Your heart was flickering in your chest, happily anticipating the hangout to come.