#she can have the chair if she wants it i just want to help if she calls dibs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The desolation lingers, even with Bucky's return. You shuffle down the hall to your office and set your bag on your desk. He fills the doorway as he watches you unpack your tablet and place it on its tripod.

"Some homecoming," he growls.

You look up, eyebrows rising, unready for his confrontation. As unprepared as you are for him to be there. You're so used to being alone. He feels like a stranger.

"I'm sorry, Bucky, the issue is due at the editor tonight. And Janine sent me the draft ages ago," you avert your eyes guiltily. "It should be too much longer..."

"She sent it a while ago. Meaning, you're the one who slacked," he sniffs.

You nod and sit, "sorry. I messed up. Again."

You swivel to face the tablet and take the pen off the side. You unlock it and pinch with your fingers to zoom. He clucks and marches off as you struggle not to show your discomfort.

You lean in and focus on the work. It's so natural to you, it's soothing. To know exactly what you're doing. Not like this. Not like living. Not like marriage.

He comes back through the open door and smacks his hand down on the desk. You reel back with the pen in hand as he uncovers your rings, leaving them next to your monitor. You glance at him, "thanks. I... thanks."

Your lips twitch and your cheek ticks. You can't stop moving your mouth. That old nervous habit is back.

"Oh, and these might help," he sets down your glasses next to the rings. "Probably more important to you."

You hesitate and take the rings first. You slip them on and admire the shine. The teardrop is just as sparkling as the day he gave it to you. You reach for your glasses and he catches your hand.

"I didn't want to go," he says. "So I'd appreciate if you stop acting like I abandoned you."

You shake your head and shrug. "I don't think that--"

"I saw the Kelly's bag on the counter," he scoffs. "The soda cup next to the bed..."

"I've been busy. I forgot to tidy up."

"And cook," he challenges.

You wiggle free of him. Because he lets you. He could easily keep you in his grasp. He rescinds his hand and exhales heavily.

"Yep," you put your glasses on and turn back to your tablet, overly aware of how much room your ass takes up in that chair. "I'll cook tonight. I have a steak for you."

He clicks his tongue, "I'm concerned, not a tyrant."

"I know, Buck, alright? I'm sorry, I have a lot going on--"

"You do, yeah. Me too," he crosses his arms. "Like spending a month away from my wife. Getting my head knocked half-off. Sleeping on concrete--"

You drop the pen. You can stay up. You had that coffee, it will help.

"I better marinate that steak, make sure that flavour sticks," you move out from behind the desk. He moves to meet you, blocking you.

"I don't want you to fucking act like some trapped housewife. You haven't even kissed me," he sneers.

Your heart drops. You hadn't even thought of it. You look at his belt. It's as if he plunged that knife there between your ribs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" You flutter your fingers nervously. "Oh, I..." your lips slant back and forth.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?" He shakes his head. 

"Please, I..." you step closer and reach for him, "I'll give you a kiss--"

He stops you by your shoulders and moves you away from him. It's like he's slapped you. He puts you at arms' length. He grits his teeth as his nostrils flare.

"Kiss me because you want to," he shoves you just a little. "I'll order a fucking cheeseburger. Finish your work." He pokes his tongue in his cheek and spins away. "You don't need to let anyone else down."

He stomps out and you stagger, leaning on the desk to steady yourself. What the hell? You tried. You did. Didn't you?

You swallow and blow out a long, dry breath. You close your eyes and gather up what's left of your strength. You sit and stare at the tablet. The pen sits in front of the stand. You should cry. You want to. Your eyes are barren. Nothing.

You grab the pen and roll close. You focus on the line work for the next panel. You have to stop and ease the tremble in your hand. Your frustration mounts as you can't keep the pixels from wobbling.

You hear a soft thump. You sit up and look toward the door. You hear the clatter of something else. More things tossed around. You get up and leave the pen behind.

You step into the open door and listen. He's upstairs. You go up, a step at a time, following the noise with baited breath. He's in the bedroom.

As you peer inside, he's pillaging your top drawer. He grips your vibrator and gnashes his teeth. It crunches in hand before he hurls it away. Your books are on the floor before the bookshelf, your nightstand is on its side. He continues to tear apart your things.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" You near him and touch his arm.

"Looking for evidence," he opens your jewelry box and spins the hooks that hold your necklaces.

"Evidence? Of what?"

"Him."

"Him?" You echo in confusion.

"The other guy."

"Other... Bucky? How can you say that?"

"There has to be someone else," he grabs the jewelry box and flings it with a crash. He turns to face you. "You're icing me out."

"I'm not. Bucky, I-- I--" You can't find a single fucking drop of moisture in your head. It stings for him to accuse you and yet it's all locked inside you. "I waited for you. I've been waiting. And I would never-- How could you even think--" You stammer through your anger and hurt. "You-- I thought you knew me."

"I thought I fucking did too," he snorts.

He sidesteps you and you turn to watch him storm out. You step on a book and hear the spine break. You look down as his footfalls hammer downstairs. You bend and pick up the journal you forgot. The one with all the postcards he used to send you while on missions. You thought it was cute back then how old-fashioned he was. He hated texting, but he sent you these cards he found in local shops. They just feel like reminders of what you've lost. It's gone, isn't it?

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi! Can I request a Peter Parker X Stark! reader and she wants to try on Pete’s spidery suit and web shooters and he thinks she looks really good in it so he kisses her and Tony comes in and thinks they’re doing some weird type of role play?❤️

Hello there! I had so much fun writing this one! I'll probably say it turned out to be one of my favourite fics. Thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy reading it too.

----------------©®©®©®©®----------------

𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Humor, Slight Spice, Making Out, Overprotective! Dad! Tony, Embarrassment, Light Suggestiveness.

Summary → You blackmail Peter into letting you try on his Spider-Man suit. It fits too well, leading to making out—and Tony walking in.

"Pleeeaaase, Pete?" You whined, leaning over his desk with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Peter didn’t even look up from his notes, his pen gliding across the page. "Nope."

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself back onto his bed. "Why not?! I'm the one who worked on half of your suit!"

"Keyword: half," Peter quipped, turning his chair slightly to smirk at you. "Mr. Stark did the heavy lifting, and, oh yeah—it’s my suit."

You sat up on your elbows, pouting. "That’s not fair! I bet it would look so cool on me."

"It’s not about looking cool, babe," he said, finally turning to fully face you. "It’s dangerous tech, Y/N. The suit has all kinds of built-in features, and I don’t want you accidentally webbing yourself to the ceiling or activating instant-kill mode."

You rolled your eyes. "As if I don’t know how the tech works! I built most of it with Dad. I probably understand the suit better than you do."

Peter gave you an unimpressed look. "That’s debatable."

Frustrated, you crossed your arms. If begging didn’t work, it was time for drastic measures. You sat up, narrowed your eyes at him, and smirked. "Fine. You leave me no choice."

Peter arched a brow. "Uh-oh."

You stood up, placed your hands on your hips, and announced, "No kisses for a month."

Peter froze. "Wait. What?"

You grinned, seeing his reaction. "Yep. No kisses. No sex. No cuddles. No cute little nose nuzzles. No hand-holding. No forehead kisses. Nothing."

His jaw dropped. "That’s—That’s cruel and unusual punishment!"

You fake-sighed, placing a hand over your heart. "Well, if my boyfriend refuses to let me try on the suit that I worked on, then I guess I have no choice but to take extreme action."

Peter looked genuinely distressed now, running a hand through his curls. "That’s so unfair. You can’t just—"

"And!" You interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You’re so ungrateful! I spend hours helping you upgrade that thing, and you won’t even let me try it for five minutes?" You dramatically turned away, placing a hand over your forehead. "Oh, the betrayal!"

Peter groaned loudly. "Ugh! Fine! "

You immediately spun around, grinning. "Wait, really?"

He gave you a deadpan look. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—just don’t break anything, okay?"

You let out an excited squeal, doing a little happy dance before rushing over to grab the suit from where he pulled it out of his closet. "This is the best day of my life!"

Peter crossed his arms, watching you with a defeated sigh. "You’re ridiculous."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately, yes."

You snickered before holding the suit up in front of you, inspecting it. The fabric was smooth under your fingers. "Ooooh, I feel powerful already."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, just—put it on already before I change my mind."

You nodded and started unzipping your hoodie, shrugging it off before kicking off your sweatpants. You were left in just your bra and panties when you noticed Peter had gone completely silent.

You turned to see him staring.

Blatantly.

His lips were parted slightly, his brown eyes locked onto your figure as if he had just seen the most captivating thing in the world.

You smirked. "Pete."

No response.

You snapped your fingers. "Peter Parker, my eyes are up here."

He blinked rapidly, his face immediately flushing. "I-I wasn’t—! I was just—!"

You crossed your arms, tilting your head playfully. "Just what?"

"Admiring my girlfriend," he admitted, looking sheepish but utterly smitten.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't hide your grin. "Uh-huh. Sure, Romeo. Now turn around."

Peter huffed dramatically but turned his back to you. "You act like I haven’t seen you in less."

"Yeah, well, you don’t get to ogle while I’m trying to be Spider-Woman for the day," you quipped, stepping into the suit.

As soon as you pulled it up over your shoulders, it felt huge. The fabric sagged, the arms hung loosely, and the legs were way too long. "Oh my God, Peter, your body proportions are so weird."

He laughed. "Hey! I have a perfectly normal body proportion, thank you very much."

You pouted, looking down at yourself. "It’s so baggy! Ugh, I look ridiculous."

Peter turned around, smirking. "You could always take it off."

You shot him a look. "Nice try." Then, you pressed the spider emblem on your chest.

Immediately, the suit shrank.

The fabric adjusted perfectly to your body, molding to every curve, every inch of your skin. Your stomach, chest, legs—everything was snug.

Peter stopped mid-breath.

His eyes traveled from your legs to your ass to your chest, and suddenly, his Adam’s apple bobbed. "Uh…"

You turned to the mirror, blinking. "Oh. Damn."

The suit hugged you perfectly. The fabric stretched in all the right places, highlighting every dip and curve of your body. Your ass? Amazing. Your boobs? Fantastic.

Peter made a strangled noise.

You turned to him with a smirk. "You okay there, bug boy?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Then, without a single word, he took two long strides forward, cupped your face, and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a peck. No, Peter devoured you, his lips molding against yours hungrily. His hands found their way to your jaw and waist, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, melting into him as he pressed you against the wall. His hands started wandering—one settling on your jaw, tilting your head up, while the other slid down to firmly grab your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, breaking apart for just a second. "P-Peter—"

"You look so hot in my suit," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again, voice breathless and desperate.

You giggled between kisses. "I knew it!"

Peter groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass. "Not fair," he muttered, moving down to your jaw, leaving soft kisses.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I mean, if you wanna keep making out with me in your suit, I’m not stopping you—"

Then.

The door opened.

"Ay, kid, I need Y/N for a sec—WHAT THE HELL?!"

You and Peter immediately froze.

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open, looking horrified.

You and Peter were practically glued together—your arms around his neck, his hands on your ass, both of you looking like deer caught in headlights.

Tony blinked. "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

"Dad!" You yelped, shoving Peter off you.

Tony raised his hands, shaking his head rapidly. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I do not wanna know why you’re in the Spidey suit and sucking face with Spiderling. I do not wanna know what kinda freaky roleplay stuff you two are into."

You turned bright red. "IT’S NOT—"

"Oh my God," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. "I need bleach. No, I need therapy. I need Pepper."

Peter, looking about five seconds away from fainting, squeaked out, "M-Mr. Stark, I—I swear—"

Tony pointed at him. "You. Out."

Peter blinked. "But… this is my room—"

Tony turned his glare up to maximum dad mode, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Peter swallowed hard. "I'm out."

And with that, he bolted straight out of the door.

"You. Family meeting. Now."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Kill me now."

Tony sighed, mumbling to himself as he walked away. "Why couldn't she date a nice, normal guy from down the street?"

From the hallway, Peter called out, "I am a nice, normal guy!"

You groaned again. "Oh my God, Peter, shut up!"

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ����☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[science-hoes]

A Ray of Fucking Sunshine

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: patient violence, needles, injury, HIV mention, Santos

A/N: I literally cannot stop writing about this old man omg. But I love him. And he is a Good Man. Just some good fluff between an attending and his resident.

—

“I need a doctor!” A voice emerged from one of the exam rooms. “Please, I need a doctor!”

You looked up from your computer and over to Dana, who rolled her eyes. “Is it my turn?” You asked with hesitation.

The Pitt had been flooded as usual, and one of the psychiatric admissions was still being boarded in an exam room until a bed was available upstairs. Fred, the middle-aged opioid addict, was currently going through withdrawals, and he made sure everyone on the floor was aware. You felt bad for him because you know addiction is not entirely the fault of a patient, but Fred was verbally abusing every person who walked through the curtain to check on him.

Dana chuckled and walked over to your chair. “You’re up to bat, champ.” She patted you on the shoulder. “Think you’ll need backup? I can go in with you.”

You sighed and rubbed the aching dark circles under your eyes. “Not if he’s restrained. I’ll be fine.” You mumbled, kicking back on the floor so your chair rolled away from the desk.

You swung your stethoscope around your neck and walked through the curtain. There was Fred. He came in with tremors and sweats, but the withdrawal medication seemed to be helping for now. “Hey, Fred. I’m Dr. (L/N). What’s going on?” You asked, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed.

Fred shook his head. “No, I don’t want a fucking nurse. I want my doctor!” He screamed.

You squinted at his loud voice. “Sir, I am a doctor. Now, how can I help you?” You asked again, with the same patience as before.

“Give me my fucking medicine right now, bitch. I’m not playing any games.” He growled.

You moved to the computer to look up his chart. “I think Dr. Langdon already gave you medicine about thirty minutes ago. What symptoms are you having?” You replied calmly, not taking his anger to heart.

“I want my fucking pills.” He hissed, struggling against the fabric restraints tied to the gurney.

You turned to look at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that for you.” You turned back to the computer to search for the time on his next medicine. “I know you are feeling really bad right now, but the pills will not help you in the-”

You were cut off by your head being yanked back by your hair with strong force. You let out a startled scream and twisted around to look at Fred. He had gotten out of one of his arm restraints, and before you could cry out for assistance, you felt pressure on your cheek. Naturally, your eyes squinted shut when you saw a hand coming at you, so you didn’t see that he was wielding a scalpel. Before you could open your eyes, a closed fist knocked you to the ground.

“I told you to give me my fucking pills, you cunt.” He snarled and spat on you.

The curtain swung open to reveal Langdon and Robby, who both looked ready to tackle Fred if he was free. You crawled away from the bed and shakily stood up.

“Dana, call for security!” Robby yelled out as he and Langdon grabbed Fred’s free arm and tried to tie it back down to the rails of the bed. The metal clang of the scalpel dropping to the tile fell deaf on your ears.

You ran out of the room as a security guard bumped into you, causing you to stumble. Luckily, Dana was there to catch you. “Hey, I’ve got you.” She assured you. But then she stood you up straight, seeing red streaks on your face and dripping to your neck. “Oh, holy shit.”

You felt numb. Numb to everything. Even the pain in your face couldn’t bring you back to reality. “I just…” You mumbled, looking around. All of the nurses and doctors had their eyes on you. It was overwhelming, and the fluorescent lights started to burn your eyes.

And then your cheek began to hurt. The pain seeped across your face, and hot tears pricked your eyes.

You didn’t even realize that Dana had snatched gauze from a patient’s room. She pressed it to your cheek firmly. “Collins, get over here!” She called out.

You sat down in the chair you had abandoned only two minutes before. Collins ran over to you and tilted your head up with a gentle hand.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She asked sincerely, lifting the gauze delicately.

You winced as fresh air hit the cut. “I don’t know. I think he hit me. And he pulled my hair.” You responded, still in shock.

Collins winced at the wound and replaced the gauze. “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty deep cut.”

Before long, the med students and interns surrounded your chair. You reached a hand to your cheek and carefully pulled the gauze away, finally seeing how much blood had flooded the cloth.

“Oh, shit. That definitely needs stitches.” Santos commented.

If you could roll your eyes, you would have. But you were focused on not puking your guts out in front of the team.

“I shouldn’t have turned my back to him.” You mumbled.

Mohan shook her head. “No way. That is not your fault. Sure, never let a patient get between you and the door. But you shouldn’t have to keep eyes on the patient at all times to ensure your safety.” She redirected.

You closed your eyes, but you could hear others agreeing with her. The pain and attention was too much to handle. You just wanted to be alone. So, you stood slowly. Dana held a hand to your back as you did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked. “You might need a CT.”

You looked to her sluggishly. “I just need some air. I’m just going to the empty room.” You said before quickly escaping from the crowd.

You swished the curtain open and shut. The light above the bed was out, perfect for some peace and quiet. You sat on the bed and crossed your legs. The pain from your cheek was becoming more unbearable by the second as the adrenaline wore off. You closed your eyes and pressed the gauze harder against your skin.

You were incredibly embarrassed. Maybe you were too naive. Fred had a history of violence toward healthcare workers, and you still turned away from him. Trusting him as innocently as a child would. It wasn’t the first time that you underestimated a patient. Langdon always chastised you for being too trusting.

The curtain opened, and you could see the light from the Pitt through your closed eyes. “Dana, please let me have a minute.” You begged.

“I think she’s already given you two minutes.” Robby’s voice responded.

You opened your eyes, and you saw Robby standing in the doorway with a suture pack in his hands. “Oh. I’m sorry, Dr. Robby.” You responded, slightly embarrassed.

Robby smiled and shut the curtain behind him. “No need.” He said and stood over the bed. “Why don’t you let me see what we’re working with?” And tapped your hand holding the gauze.

You moved your hand away from your face and winced. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.” You lied through clenched teeth.

Robby chuckled and shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s gonna need at least five stitches.” He said.

You watched him move to the side of the room and grab a syringe of lidocaine and some more gauze. He turned the overhead exam light on, and you furrowed your brow at the brightness.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. He titled your chin up and began patting down your neck with the extra gauze, cleaning the blood that had dripped from your cheek.

Honestly, you weren’t okay. You felt like you had been taken advantage of, but you didn’t lose anything besides your pride. And a few precious minutes of charting. You felt silly for thinking that a hostile patient wouldn’t lash out at you, even though he had screamed at someone as sweet as Mel King. You felt the tears prick your eyes again, and your bottom lip quivered.

Robby stopped cleaning your face as soon as he met your eyes. “Oh, no. Sweetie, please don’t cry.” He begged and tilted your head back. “The tears are gonna make the cut hurt even more. Just wait for me to inject the lidocaine.” He said.

You swallowed thickly, taking in shaky but deep breaths. You felt his hand grab one of yours and squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper.

Robby made quick work of the cleanup and grabbed the lidocaine syringe. He pulled his black-rimmed glasses out of the pocket of his scrub top and placed them on the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize, dear.” He let go of your hand to place his on under your chin to stabilize your head. “Okay. I’m about to inject the lidocaine, and it’s going to burn like hell for a few seconds.” He warned, peering over his glasses to meet your gaze.

You saw the syringe in his hand. The needle wasn’t that big. You knew that. You gave the same injection to patients every shift. But as the needle slowly moved closer to your face, your breathing hitched, and you pulled away from his grasp.

“No, no, I can’t.” You struggled to say through labored breaths.

Robby held his hands up, as if to show you that he wasn’t going to make a sneak attack with the syringe. “(Y/L/N). Look at me. Look at my eyes.” He said, lifting his glasses to rest on the crown of his head.

And so you did. His dark chocolate eyes were framed with permanent laugh lines. Even when he was in a pissy mood, he would smile with sarcasm or exasperation. You didn’t even realize that your breathing had slowed as the silence grew between you. Robby placed the lidocaine syringe on the tray next to the bed, but never broke eye contact.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He said.

You didn’t answer immediately. It almost seemed like a trap. Admitting your insecurities and shortcomings to your boss that he could use as leverage or blackmail whenever he saw fit. But something about his face seemed sincere and almost…worried.

“I’m just…embarrassed. Overwhelmed.” You whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

Robby nodded. “Okay. Those are reasonable feelings to have after an event like that.” He affirmed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m sorry for being a bitch about the lidocaine. I’m ready now.” You said quickly.

Robby reached for the syringe again and placed a hand under your chin. “Okay. I’m going to make a few injections around the cut. It’ll be over before you know it.” He said and tilted his glasses back down.

You closed your eyes and waited. The needle inserting wasn’t painful, but the lidocaine burned like a motherfucker. You furrowed your brow, trying not to scrunch your face in pain.

“That’s a good girl.” Robby praised as he inserted the needle into your skin again.

Oh. That wasn’t something you expected to hear from him. You opened your eyes to see Robby meticulously moving the needle around your cheek, his mouth open just slightly in concentration. You hoped that your face had already been flushed from the anxiety and pain because you could definitely feel the heat rising up your neck. Suddenly you realized just how close Robby was to you. Even while you both sat at the edge of the bed, he was all but cradling you as he worked.

“And done. How does it feel?” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You raised a hand to your cheek and pressed gently. “Oh. I don’t feel anything.” You said, huffing a small laugh.

“Great. That means I can start sewing you up.” He said.

Robby opened the suture kit and began to sort out its contents. You watched him grab the utensils he needed and the suture thread. “Thank you for doing this.” You said.

He turned back to you, ready to start suturing away. “It's the least I can do. I’m upset that one of my residents got attacked under my watch.” He responded, inserting the suture needle. But you didn’t feel it. “After this, I’m gonna write you a prescription for a PEP antiretroviral and do some blood tests.”

Your eyes widened. “For HIV?”

Robby met your eyes for a moment before looking back to your cheek. “Yes, Dr. (Y/L/N). Fred is HIV positive. And while we don’t think the scalpel he cut you with had his own bodily fluids on it, your health comes first. We have to treat because of the risk, even though it’s slim to none.” He explained.

Your heart fell to your stomach, and the tears that you managed to hold back before began to spill over your eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid.” You breathed.

Robby pulled tightly on a suture before beginning the next one. “Hey. Don’t talk like that.” He said. “This is not your fault.”

Your lip quivered, and you looked to the ceiling to try and stop more tears. “Langdon is right. I’m fucking naive. I shouldn’t have ever turned my back to Fred. I knew what he was capable of.”

Robby sighed heavily and tied off the last suture. He placed the instruments back on the metal tray. But then he grabbed one of your hands and lifted his glasses with the other. “You are a good doctor, (Y/N). You are not naive. You are one of the last good people around here.” He said honestly.

Your cheeks flushed again, but you shook your head. “I need to start thinking more like Langdon, like Santos, like…like you.” You said.

Robby frowned, almost in disappointment. “I don’t want you to ever be like me. You are a ray of fucking sunshine, and you make everyone around you smile. Even me.” He said. “As soon as you walk in the room, it gets brighter.”

You smiled slightly. “I can make you smile?” You asked shyly.

Robby chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.” He replied. “Sometimes you’re the only good thing about my day. The days where you’re off and I’m here…those are a lot darker.”

You watched your attending fidget with his hands in his lap nervously. You placed one of yours over them. Robby looked up to you, and you felt a real connection this time, deeper than holding each other’s gaze. He held your small hand in both of his.

“Well…you’re making a really shitty day turn into a good one.” You said.

Robby smiled, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had naturally inched towards each other until you could feel his breath on your nose and smell his scent. A mixture of coffee and what had to be Old Spice deodorant.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But Robby’s lips pressed against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling your uninjured cheek. You grinned at the feeling of his mouth peppering small kisses across your face.

“Does this make it better?” He asked in between little kisses.

You placed a hand on his neck, fingers reaching up to stroke his hair. You finally pressed your forehead against his to catch his eyes. “All better, Dr. Robby.” You said before giving him another kiss.

[echo13alexa]

THIS TIME AROUND 

summary: Spencer is taken to the hospital after losing consciousness on the street, but since he forgot to change his emergency contact, the staff calls you with the news. ✤ pairing: Spencer Reid x reader ✤ wc: 1.2k ✤ tags: fem!reader, ex!reader, takes place during s6

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe–Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

A hospital in DC called you after Spencer had been found on the street unconscious, only because your always meticulous ex forgot to change his emergency contact. Even though you still lived in Vegas, even though you haven’t met him since the divorce eight years ago, you didn’t hesitate to rush to the airport and fly there to him. 

The taxi is rolling through the late afternoon traffic slow as a sloth, causing you to tap your fingers on your thigh faster and harsher, as if that could calm your nerves. But there is no medicine, seeing that he’s okay is the only thing that can help. 

You never dated properly, you were just friends, and that marriage was the result of a lost bet. Because Spencer Reid, the young genius lost a ridiculous bet. 

“You wouldn’t do it,” he said with a sigh.

But poor little Spencer was too intelligent, too rational, and too naïve to even consider the possibility of you being stupid enough to do something like this. “Watch me,” you told him defiantly, then–fueled by spite and a little too many cocktails–ran off.

So, around three in the morning, the two of you were standing in front of a drag queen who officiated the wedding, and despite being drunk as hell, her speech was so memorable that you remembered it all even after sobering up.

Despite neither of you feeling like living a married life, especially because he was living in DC, while you wanted to stay in Vegas, you only got a divorce a year later. Surprisingly, he completely forgot that he was married, he was genuinely surprised to hear you filed for divorce.

You always believed you would never meet again, you closed that part of your life, you moved on. But Spencer was such a sweet guy, knowing he was sick made you worried. Worried enough to bring you here. 

By the time you got to the room the nurse told you he was in, you found a woman there, sitting on a chair next to his bed. Her red hair was pulled up into a bun, she had red glasses, and she wore a colorful dress that seemed a little too flamboyant for you.

Hesitantly, but you knocked on the doorframe, successfully getting her attention. “Um, hi. The hospital called me, saying Spencer was found on the street this morning,” you say slowly. 

The woman looks confused at first, but then she flashes a small smile at you. “You’re the emergency contact the nurse mentioned?” You nod. “Okay, so I’m a little confused, because they said you were his wife. But, Spencer is single as far as I know.”

“He is, the divorce was finalized a long time ago. I guess he forgot to update the info.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, which is followed by her happy sound and a wide smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Penelope,” she says with a wave of her hand.

You introduce yourself, but before you could ask her if she was his girlfriend—not like that was any of your business—you hear a familiar voice from the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asks tiredly as he sits up with a grimace.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in almost a decade, and he changed a lot. Like, a lot. His short hair suits him really well, it puts some emphasis on his strong features, and the way he dresses became better as well. If he’s been like that back then, maybe you wouldn’t have let him go.

Ugh, that’s a shallow thought.

You take a few steps closer, having absolutely no idea what to say after all those years. In the background, Penelope tells you that she’s gonna give you some space, then leaves the room. Not like that can help, your mind is still blank.

“The emergency contact,” he suddenly says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You came here all the way from Vegas just because of me?”

“I was worried. They said you were found unconscious, that’s… concerning,” you respond.

He lets out a sigh and his hazel eyes move to the window on the side of the room. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming here, but it was unnecessary,” he tells you flatly.

Shaking your head, you sit on the edge of the bed and take a good look at him, waiting patiently until he looks back at you. “Listen, I live in Vegas. I’ll leave once I’m sure you’re okay, so if there’s something you would rather not tell your girlfriend—”

Spencer’s brows shoot up in surprise. “My what?”

“The redhead girl.”

“Oh, she’s a friend and a colleague, not my girlfriend. To be honest, I don’t have one.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. Is a part of you relieved that she’s just a friend and there’s no woman in the picture? You have no right to feel that way after deciding not to support him in his FBI career.

“Migraines,” he suddenly speaks up. When you let out a questioning hum, he presses the heels of his palms to his forehead. “I’ve been suffering from migraines, and the one this morning… Well, it was bad.”

Without thinking twice, you reach out for his hand. “Does anyone know?” you wonder.

He shakes his head, confirming your theory. “I’d rather it stay that way, okay?” he asks.

Nodding, you instinctively lace your fingers, letting your thumb rub circles into his hand. Even if you’ve never properly dated, you still have a soft spot for him. Spencer is the sweetest nerd you’ve ever met, and if things were different, if you were into nerds, you would probably stick around to see what could happen between you.

Spencer looks surprised, but he bites his tongue for now. 

“How’s your head?” 

With a shrug, he leans forward. “Better now, thank you,” he says with a smile. “How long are you planning to stay?” 

Good question, you haven’t really thought about that. Until you make sure he’s okay isn’t a proper answer, because when’s that? Now? Tomorrow? When he’s discharged? Maybe later? You have absolutely no idea.

Without a warning, he reaches out with his free hand and pulls you closer. “Why don’t you stay for a week or two? We could hang out,” he suggests casually.

Is he flirting with you? Since when does Spencer Reid flirt with anyone? Shy and awkward Spencer, where are you? He has changed a lot for sure, and maybe—just maybe—this could work this time around.

“That would be great,” you respond eventually with a warm smile.

Instead of answering, he leans even closer to close the gap and captures your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. “Good answer,” Spencer says smugly.

Smug. He knows how to be smug. 

What else did you miss? 

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 7 - Rescue

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: PTSD, panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, mentions of wounds, mentions of tourture, negitive coping mechanisms, hurt/comfort.

AN: Writers block is kicking my ass plus i'm sick so i've been working on comfort projects. I can't keep a schedule to save my life.

Previous parts - masterlist- next AO3

Enjoy <3

When Price makes it to Ghost the medics are already working on Soap.

“How is she?” Ghost asks without taking his eyes off Soap.

“Safe, how about him?” Price asks.

“Alive” Ghost says. Price can see the tension in his shoulders and the grip on his weapon.

“Captain Price?” He hears the voice behind him and turns. “Commander Graves would like to see you.” 

“You’ve got this right?” Price asks, resting his hand on Ghost's shoulder. He nods, Price gives him a squeeze and follows the shadow through the building. He's taken into what looks like a main room of some kind. There are bodies everywhere except one. Tied to a chair, his face is bloody, there's a shadow training a weapon on him. 

“Sayyid Al-Asad.” Graves says from the other side of the table. “Khaled’s brother.”

“Had no idea he had a brother.” Price admits.

“They want him alive, POW.” Graves says, Sayyid shouts something in Arabic. “He’s not too happy about it.” 

“No of course.” Price says looking over at him. So he’s the person responsible for your capture, it makes him feel sick. At least they have him, they’ll want intel from him. He’s about to be a very valuable prisoner of war. 

“Take Soap and the medic to the town. There’s a medevac waiting on the airfeild.” Graves says. “We’ll transport the prisoner.” 

“Ghost and Gaz can stay behind.” Price offers.

“Negative, get them back to the base, we’ll clear things here.” Graves says. 

“Thank you.” Price says, he heads for the door, as he does Sayyid laughs. Price looks over at him meeting his eyeline. 

“Something you’d like to say?” Price snaps, he doesn’t mean to its unprofessional, he just can’t help it.

“She’s a good medic but I doubt she’ll be able to save him.” John presses his lips together, grinding his teeth. 

“You’re right she’s a good medic.” Price says shooting a look at Graves and turning out the room. He blows out a breath walking down the stairs. He sees Ghost still standing in the same doorway. 

“There’s a medevac waiting for us at the airfield. Is he stable to move?” Price asks him. 

“As stable as he can be. They’ve got the bleeding under control.” Price can hear the uncertainty in his voice. “What about her?”

“Don’t worry about that, focus on him. She’s safe, Gaz is with her.” He pats Ghost on the back who nods. Price looks over at Soap laid out on the floor, people fussing around him, pressing over his body working on his wounds. He has the best people around him right now. 

“Gaz. Graves has given us the go ahead to evac to an airfield where there’s a casevac waiting. What’s your situation?” Price asks into his radio walking out of the room. 

“Copy. She’s still with us barely, the medics are asking about sedation, at least until she’s back at base.” Gaz replies. Price knows Ghost will have heard the same intel. 

“Copy, I'm coming out.” Price says, Ghost looks over and nods at him again, it’s the reassuring gesture he needs right now. He heads out towards the waiting trucks and the rest of the shadow medics. He sees Gaz bent down by your head, his fingers laced with yours. 

The closer he gets the worse you look, there are fresh bandages over your pale shaking body. Gaz looks up at him, not letting your hand go. Your eyes are drooping closed but your grip on Gaz’s hand is strong. It’s almost like you’re holding on to him for dear life. 

“Based on my initial assessment she’s severely dehydrated. Her wounds are infected and her BP and pulse are unstable. My recommendation is sedation while she’s transported.” The shadow medic says to Price. He looks down at Kyle trying to keep the oxygen mask over your face as you try to pull it off. 

His other hand grips yours pressing it too his lips.

“Sedate her.” John says. The medic nods going back over to you. It makes his stomach drop as the medic follows the order. Price is holding his breath as he watches drugs being pushed into your arm. Your eyes start to close and your grip on Gaz falters. 

“It’s all going to be okay.” Gaz says as you fall into unconsciousness. Gaz looks up at Price, John can see the shine in his eyes as he keeps a grip on your hand. 

You don’t deserve this, but you’re safe and that's what matters.

That's all that matters. 

___

You wake to a gentle beeping. It’s a sound you’ve heard many times, it's a sound you’re used to hearing. The methodical beep of a heart reat monitor. You slowly open your eyes, you’re in a hospital room, in a hospital bed. You try to move your arms but you can't. You look down to see straps round your wrists. You panic and start pulling on them. Maybe it was all a trap. Maybe this isn’t real. 

“Hey, you’re okay.” A hand lands on you, you look over to see John standing next to you. 

“John?” You ask, your eyes wide, is he real? You pull on the restraints again. You need to touch him.

“Easy, here let me.” He says reaching down to undo the straps. You reach out grabbing his hand. It is real, he is real. You look up at him feeling your eyes fill with tears, you blink them away as he smiles at you, you reach out throwing your arms around him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” He says in your ear. You close your eyes, breathing him in. You wish you could stay like this, wrapped in his arms but you start to feel the first twinges of pain. You sniffle, opening your eyes again. 

He lets you go and you lay back into the bed. You wipe your eyes looking down at your other hand. Your fingertips are all bandaged. Your arm hurts to move-

“Johnny!?” You gasp, shooting back up in the bed and looking over at John.

“He’s okay, he’s out of surgery.” He says one of his hands lands on your shoulder and squeezes.

“Surgery?” You feel panic rising in you. 

“Yeah, he’s okay, he’s resting.” 

“Why was I tied up?” 

“You attacked the staff while you were out of it.”

“I don’t remember.” You say, shaking your head.

“Yeah, they said that might happen. Psychosis or something.” 

“I’m not psychotic.” You snap, you feel like you can't breathe. Johnny’s alive, he had surgery. You bring your hand up to press on your chest. 

“No, I know.” His hand moves from your shoulder to your back. “Breathe, c’mon. It’s okay.” You listen to his voice forcing yourself to swallow gulps of air, it hurts. Everything hurts, there's a fuzziness in your head. 

You look back over at John, his hand rubs your back. “That’s it.” He says, you focus on the beeping of the machine. You feel tears well in your eyes, you don’t stop them this time letting yourself sob, John’s arms come round you pulling him against his chest. 

You don’t know how long you’re crying for, it makes your whole body throb as John holds you, reassuring you everything is okay. It doesn’t feel okay though, your body hurts and your head spins. When John feels you relax he loosens his grip, letting you lay back in the bed.

“Can I see my chart?” You ask, pointing towards the end of the bed. He sighs, you know you’re not supposed to see it but he brings it to you anyway. You flip it open looking at the overview. You feel a lump rise in your throat as you see the list of injuries. 

Broken rib, the wound on your arm and the back of your head are infected. Your hand rubs your neck, you feel the thick bandage where you were slashed. Malnourished and dehydrated that you expected, you don’t have a feeding tube though thats a good thing. You look down at the medication, they have you on fluids, antibiotics and morphine. 

You don’t want to be on any pain relief, the longer you’re on it the harder it will be to come off. You feel your lip quiver when you see the last injury listed. MIssing finger nails on your left hand, right now they’re bandaged up. You put the folder down. 

“Do you want to talk?” John asks. No, no you don’t. You look over at him. 

“I want to get back to work.” You say, he sighs looking at you sympathetically. 

“You need to recover first, you’ve only been out for a few hours.” He says reaching over to grip your wrist. 

“I know, I can’t lay around in bed though. I need to-” The words catch in your throat. 

“You need to rest.” John says standing up. He laces his fingers with yours looking down at your other hand. “There’s no rush, no one is expecting you to get back to work anytime soon.”

“I want to work.” You say. You need to work, the thought of staying in bed for an unknown amount of time. All you’re going to do is worry about Johnny and overthink what happened to you. You look back over at him. 

“You need to pass a psych evaluation before you can do anything, and finish the course of antibiotics.” John says. You smile, bringing his hand up to your mouth and kissing it. 

“I want to be taken off all pain killers.” You say, John sighs again leaning over to kiss the top of your head. 

“You’ll have to talk to the doctor.” He says. You pass your chart back to him and he goes back to put it in the end of the bed. 

“How long have you been here? I thought you would be busy with work.” He pauses for a second coming back round to the side of your bed. 

“I’m on probation.” He says. 

“What the fuck.” You call shooting up in bed. “Who? Who ordered that?” 

“Shepherd.” 

“Why?” 

“It doesn’t matter. My review is tomorrow.” He says.

“Do you need me to-I don’t know-say something?” You ask.

“I need you to relax and rest.” He says. “You’ve been through hell, You need to take time to recover.” 

“John-"

“No, please.” His hands come up to hold your face. “You need to rest, recover. Christ love I’m so sorry we didn’t come to you sooner. I’m so sorry I let you suffer. I didn’t think Johnny would do what he did.” 

You can hear the choke in his voice, you can see the strain in his eyes. He came after you and got suspended for it. 

“John, it’s okay.” You say reaching out for him. You press your hands on his chest feeling heartbeat, it’s pounding in his chest, he presses his forehead to yours you feel his breath on your face. You tip your face up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. His hands drop from your face to your shoulders then down your arms. 

You sink into the kiss as he pulls you tighter against him. You never want it to end, your mind is blank all you can think about is John and his tongue brushing yours. A knock at the door breaks you both from the moment. 

You both look over to see a nurse standing there not quite sure what to do. John looks back at you. 

“I’ll come visit you later. I’ll go check on John.” He says. You nod, smiling at him and relaxing back into the bed. He leaves the room as the nurse comes over. She’s nice, you smile at her, you want to get out of here though, get out of here and back to work. 

__

3 days later

“How long are we going to pretend this is healthy?” Kyle asks. 

“It’s this or medical discharge.” John says, leaning in the chair behind his desk. 

“She has PTSD right?” Simon asks. As he looks out into the medical bay 

“Her psych evaluation came back normal, she was still recommended for leave but it’s not obligatory.” 

“Yeah but it’s easy to bullshit the shrinks.” Simon says. “She was the one who taught us to do it.” 

“She won’t talk about it. She won’t talk to Johnny.” Kyle says “She still hasn’t been to see him?” John asks, sitting up in his chair. Kyle shakes his head. 

“I’ll talk to her again.” John says. 

“Until then?” Simon asks. 

“Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep an eye on Johnny, I'll keep an eye on her.” John says, that was his reason for moving his office closer to the med bay. As soon as you were discharged you were on your feet back to work like nothing had happened. 

Kyle’s right, it’s not healthy. You’re ignoring what happened and throwing yourself into work, it’s only going to last so long, especially when they’re forced to move. 

“How’s things going with Graves?” John asks Simon, he actually looks back at John for once instead of having his eyes fixed on you talking to a nurse. 

“He’s not talking. Shepherd wants to do a prisoner swap.” He says turning to look back out the window.

“That's a terrible idea.” Kyle scoffs. “Has he still not spoken to you?”

“No, the base commander has called a meeting though. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Sayyid and how to handle him.” John says.

“Need me to be there?” Simon asks.

“I wouldn’t mind another ball in my court but I would rather you work with Graves. At least one of us should have access to Sayyid.” John says, Simon nods. 

“Go check on John, I’ll talk to her.” Price says getting up. Kyle Joins Simon and they both walk out of his office. 

You see John coming over to you. He’s not as subtle as he thinks. You could see Simon watching you the whole time too. The nurse you’re talking to shoots you a look when he gets to the station and she walks away.

“Hey.” He says as you pick up the file you were looking over. 

“I’m working, John.” You say walking away from him. He follows you deeper into the ward. 

“I know, I thought maybe later we could get something to eat?” He asks, you roll your eyes going back to put the folder back in its slot. That’s not what he wants, he wants to talk, try and convince you to see Johnny. You don’t want to see him right now. You have too much work to do.

“Maybe tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do.” You say, you want to let him down slowly. 

“Have you been to see Soap yet?” He asks. You let out a sigh clutching the stethoscope around your neck.

“I heard his second surgery went well.” You say. You’ve been sneaking looks at his notes, you’ve been keeping an eye on him, from a distance. You can’t see him yet, you just can’t.

“Yeah, he’s been keeping Ghost on his toes.” That makes you smile, the thought of Johnny ordering Simon around. You hear the emergency phone go off. You watch as the doctor goes over to answer it. 

“We could go together?” He asks. You feel yourself start to panic. You can't, you're just not ready yet. You push the thought away listening to the doctor repeat the incoming traumas. It sounds like a bad one. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say, feeling your adrenaline spike. This is it, this is what you need a good trauma to sink your teeth into. Soldiers to pull bullets out of, this is what you live for. There’s no thoughts of Johnny, no worries about your mental health. Just a good trauma, you can already feel your heartbeat picking up. 

“We’ve got civilians incoming, missile strike.” The doctor says hanging the phone back up. Your stomach drops, suddenly the adrenaline wains. John’s hand reaches out to grab your arm. You’re holding your breath, you look up at him. His expression changes, he looks worried. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He says. Your fingers tingle. You look back into the incoming bay, nurses are getting ready. You and the doctor are the highest trained medical staff. You can’t leave him alone. You look back at John, you can still see a worried look on his face. 

“I can do this.” You say. You don’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. Civilians, missile strike. It’s happening again, it’s happening again. 

“We’re going to need blood.” You hear the doctor shout, John hasn’t let go of your arm. “Bring whatever oh-neg you have, we’ll figure the rest out as we go.” Your head is swimming as you watch the nurses and other people rush around. Your name is being called but you can’t hear it. Theres a rining in your ears drownding out all the sound. 

John squeezes your arm tight, you look back at him. Your adrenaline is spiked but it’s not the thought of saving lives you’re focusing on, it’s the thought of losing them.

Innocent civilians are coming in. You step away from the entrance to the bay. It’s not a fully stocked resus unit you’re seeing, it's a room in the middle of the desert. The doors to the outside are opened and you see sand blowing in the wind. Someone is calling you, you feel hands run up your back. 

‘You’re never going to be able to save them all.’ It’s Sayyid’s voice in your head. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You hear John raising his voice, trying to get you to listen to him. The doctor's coming towards you, for a split second it's not the doctor, it's Sayyid. 

You turn away from them and run. You don’t think you just run. You feel the hot sun on your face as you exit out the buiding, tears stream down your cheeks. You don’t care where you’re going, you just need to get away, away from the thought of Johnny dying. Away from the innocent people dying under your hands. 

You don’t know where you end up but you remember throwing a store room door open weaving through the shelves before collapsing on the ground. You’re curled up on the floor sobbing as you hug your knees. 

You’re shaking, sobbing, you can’t get a lung full of air and you don’t deserve to. You let innocent people die. You let Johnny get hurt, you let yourself help the enemy. 

Do no harm. 

There’s no such thing as; do no harm. You’ve killed too many people, you've lost too many people. You remember something you told Sayyid; you save the people you can save, not the people you want to save. 

It’s always the innocents who suffer, it’s always the civilians who lose. You dig your fingers into your legs, you pull your nails down your skin. You bring your shaking left hand up to your vision and look at the missing fingernails on your hand. 

You deserve that, you deserve that. You did that for Johnny, they would have hurt him but instead they hurt you. And what are you doing? Fucking hiding in a store room having a panic attack while he’s recovering from his second surgery. 

Johnny deserves better, 141 deserves better. They deserve a medic who can do their job. Right now you can’t do your job. You close your eyes and let yourself sob, you pull your damaged hand to your chest and cry into the echoing room. 

…

A door opening pulls you back into reality. You hear a low voice and footsteps. Your head is spinning, the hand pressed against your chest throbs. You don’t know how long you’ve been here but you feel a shiver run through your body. 

“Hey love.” You hear a familiar voice. Kyle bends down next to you. His hand landing on your arm makes you jump. You open your eyes looking up at him. His expression is soft, as his hand comes to stroke our face. It causes you to panic and you yelp trying to force your body away from him. 

“It’s okay love. It’s me.” You look up at him. It is him, Kyle. It feels like you haven’t seen him properly in days, he’s been spending time with Johnny. 

Johnny, you let him down. You should be with him advocating for his care. Thats what you always promised them, that you would make sure they get everything they deserve. 

“Kyle.” You sob as you reach out from him. His hand travels up your arm. 

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay.” He lays down on the floor next to you his body parallel with yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob, your eyes welling up with tears. 

“It’s okay baby.” Kyle pulls you into his embrace, you press your face into his chest. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

You sob panting in his chest, your body shakes as he pulls you tighter against him. “It’s okay love, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe, nice deep breaths for me.” 

You let them down, you’ll never be a good medic again. What kind of medic runs when innocent people are hurt? 

You’re a broken fucking mess and no one deserves you, especially not the people who rely on you to save their life. Especially not the people you love.

Banners by plum98

[djcandiepaws]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ yandere! artist x reader

summary: you have a classmate who is an artist! he wants you to model for him. cw: talk of nudity (its not sexual, but he perceives it that way since its you), stalking, mention of cum. thats pretty much it!

post it notes: might be the longest fic i've ever made

It's after school hours when classes end and clubs start. Recently you've been interested in joining the art club! The art welcomes beginners and pros with open arms. You're a beginning artist, and you could use the help! So you obviously decide to join! Plus, maybe you can make a few friends?

You knock on the art club door, and a familiar face opens it. "Welcome to the art club!" It's your guidance counselor! She's the sweetest; you had no clue she was a co-owner of the art club. "Please, come in! Let me introduce you!" She had introduced you as well as showed you around.

"Forgive me though, one of our owners is running a bit late." She rubs her neck, visibly embarrassed. "Nowadays, he is usually a bit late. I don't understand why, though."

"Don't worry, I understand!" You smile. It's seriously no biggie. Anyways, you go sit down at a desk to start drawing. Lately, you haven't been drawing since you just haven't had the energy or time for it.

Honestly, you scratch your head. You're not sure how to start as you usually need inspiration or a reference to start. You're honestly confused as to how people draw purely based off of imagination. It must be a gift that you must lack. While stuck in your thoughts, the classroom opens.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, everyone. I had to finish a pass-due essay for English!" He fidgets with the end of his sleeve. It's a bit embarrassing to be late to your own club that you started. He looks around, and his eyes lock onto you. You're right where he wanted you to be.

Truth be told, the only reason he has missing assignments is because he falls asleep in class due to his lack of sleep. He spends his nights stalking outside your house, drawing it, and sneaking glimpses of the inside to study the layout so he knows when the right moment is to break in.

He's not trying to hurt you; he loves you. You're so beautiful; sometimes when you're at lunch, he sits on the floor of the cafeteria to draw you. To him, you possess beauty even Aphrodite would envy.

He walks up to your desk. He strikes up a conversation. "Hey, I know you. You recently transferred, right?" "Oh, yeah. I did. You look a bit familiar; are you in my Algebra class?" His face visibly lights up; do you remember him? Oh, it's so meant to be! "Yeah! I'm surprised you remember my face! I don't necessarily talk much in that class." He chuckles. "To be fair, your chair desk is in the front row of the class. I see you pretty much all the time."

Suddenly, he gets a bright idea. "Hey, you know in this class we draw nude human anatomy, right?" You nod with a small 'mhm' sound coming from you. "Maybe... You can model for the club? I know it might be strange at first, but I was just wondering…" Your face falls from shock. He isn't serious, right? I mean… I don't know. You could, but you just met him. But at the same time, it's just nudity for the sake of studying female anatomy; it's not anything sexual.

"You can always say no! I was just wondering." He suddenly realizes you might be a bit uncomfortable with it. "No, it's a fine question. I was just shocked. I just joined and all, so it's a bit overwhelming." You smile awkwardly.

"You know, if you're considering actually doing it… To make you feel a bit more confident, you could always do it just for me." Honestly, he started sweating. To get you naked, all for himself, under the guise of it being for nude modeling. Oh, he's so excited he honestly might cum in his pants. "Well... I mean, I could, but could we get to know each other a bit more? Just to make me feel a bit more comfortable." Oh my god, he almost squeals from excitement. An excuse to see you naked and to ALSO be your friend? This day can't get any better. "Yeah, sure! Anything to make it more comfortable for you!" He starts to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Honestly, you're a bit flustered! You've never had an offer like this, and to be honest, you don't mind modeling for someone as sweet as him. He doesn't have any weird intentions in mind, or at least you don't think so. Plus, not all nudity is sexual, so it's not that bad, right?

[huxhsz]

❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ vaccine

— synopsis: you go to akso hospital to get your child their vaccine.

zayne was always the one to handle these things, but now that he's gone—

you don't know what to do.

— note/s: n/a

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i.

“mommy, are we gonna see daddy?”

you freeze with your hand on the car door, your child’s small voice cutting clean through the dull hum of the engine. there’s a soft rustling sound as they shift in their car seat, wide eyes peering at you expectantly from the rearview mirror.

you swallow. “no, baby.” you keep your voice steady, soft. careful. “we’re just going to the hospital to get your shots.”

their face scrunches up. “but daddy always gives me my shots.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pressure beneath your ribs. “i know.”

you don’t tell them why it’s different this time. you don’t tell them why daddy isn’t coming home.

you climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. the seatbelt clicks into place, and you adjust the mirror. you breathe. in and out. your wedding ring catches the light as you grip the steering wheel. zayne’s ring sits cool and heavy against your collarbone, hanging from the delicate chain around your neck. you reach up and press it between your fingers.

“mommy?”

you glance back at them. “yeah?”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me for being brave, right?”

you smile. it’s thin. it wobbles at the edges. “yeah, baby. he’s always proud of you.”

ii.

the hospital smells like disinfectant and stale coffee. you adjust your child on your hip as you stand at the reception desk, the too-bright fluorescent lights making you feel exposed.

the receptionist glances up. “can i help you?”

“um.” you hesitate. “my child has a vaccine appointment?”

the receptionist taps at the keyboard. “name?”

you give it. the receptionist hums and scans the screen.

“do you have the vaccination record?”

you open your mouth. close it. “uh… no. sorry.”

“that’s okay.” she types a few more things. “we can look it up. when was the last time your child got their MMR booster?”

your mind blanks. “uh… i don’t know.”

the receptionist raises an eyebrow.

“my husband usually handled that stuff,” you add quickly.

the receptionist looks up at you then, a flicker of recognition sparking behind her eyes. her gaze drops to your ring and then to the chain around your neck. her face softens. “dr. zayne?”

your throat tightens. “yeah.”

a pause. “i’m… sorry for your loss.”

you nod stiffly. “thanks.”

she glances toward the back. “do you want to sit down? i’ll have someone come get you soon.”

“yeah. okay.”

you settle into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, your child curling against your side. they tug at your sleeve. “mommy?”

“yeah?”

“do you think daddy would be proud of me if i don’t cry?”

you press your lips together and kiss the top of their head. “he’d be proud of you no matter what.”

iii.

the nurse who calls you in knows you, too. you see the flash of recognition in her eyes when she reads the file.

“you’re dr. zayne’s wife?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.”

you manage a thin smile. “thanks.”

she looks at your child. “alright, sweetheart. ready for your shot?”

their hand curls around your sleeve. “is daddy gonna do it?”

the nurse’s expression falters.

you stroke their hair. “no, honey. daddy’s not here right now. but this nice nurse is going to take care of you.”

their lip wobbles. “but… what if it hurts?”

“it might,” you say softly. “but you’re brave, remember?”

their eyes shine. “like daddy?”

“just like daddy.”

the nurse smiles kindly. “alright, big kid. let’s get this over with.”

your child squeezes their eyes shut as the needle goes in, their hand clutching yours. they don’t cry.

when it’s over, they beam up at you. “i was brave!”

you stroke their cheek. “so brave.”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me!”

the nurse’s gaze flickers toward you. you know what she’s thinking, but you don’t say anything.

“yeah, baby.” your voice shakes. “he’s so proud.”

iv.

you walk back through the hospital corridors, your child skipping at your side. your wedding ring feels heavier than usual on your finger. zayne’s ring presses cold against your chest.

the hallways are familiar. too familiar. you pass by rooms zayne used to work in, faces zayne used to know. they all look at you with soft eyes and hushed voices. you hate it.

your child’s hand tugs at yours. “can we get ice cream now?”

you smile faintly. “yeah. we can do that.”

they light up. “can i get chocolate?”

“of course.”

“and can we tell daddy that i was brave?”

you don’t answer right away. your hand closes around the ring at your neck.

“he already knows,” you say quietly.

you walk through the automatic doors, stepping into the sharp brightness of the afternoon sun.

[danikamariewrites]

OR OR OR (previous anon here) maybe someone (could be just one person like rhysand, or even like the whole inner circle idk) hears accidentally y/n call cassian or az daddy in front of them ? and reader is embarrassed bc they seem very innocent (just bc they're quiet tho, their daddy knows how they can be a little chatterbox behind closed doors) but the other person isn't mean, theyre just like, "damn, didnt know you had it in you" (& then cass/az growls at them not to make fun of his mate & sweeps her away, only to shower her w affection bc he def has a possessive/protective streak & she lowkey made him feel so strong & proud of himself & protective by saying that in front of everyone) OK yes sorry that was long but so uhm yeah

Forgot You Were Here

Cassian x reader

Note: While I already have an Azriel fic that has the same plot (it’s called Alone?) and I don’t like to do repeats anymore, you guys know I have a weakness for writing the softer side of Cassian. So I couldn’t help but indulge in this request 🤭

Warnings: ddlg relationship

Entering the River House the sound of Cassian’s laugh brings tears to your eyes. Today has been an incredibly shitty day, and all you want is to be wrapped in your mates arms.

You put away your bag and change into comfy clothes. Padding down to the study you find Cassian and Rhys deep in conversation. Smiles on their faces as they chat and sip at crystal glasses of Rhy’s good whiskey.

Cassian perks up in his chair, sensing you through the bond. He looks at you with a huge smile plastered on his face. It quickly turns into a confused frown when he spots the tears on your cheeks.

“Sweet pea, what’s wrong?” You sniffle as he pulls you to his chest. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, rubbing small circles with the tips of his fingers into your scalp. The other runs up and down your spine, stopping to press between your shoulder blades to relieve the tension you’ve been holding all day.

You bury your face in Cassian’s chest, wrapping your arms around his midsection. He coos sweet nothings at you, holding you tighter.

When Cassian holds you like this the whole world disappears. He makes you feel like nothing can get to you. Let the world try to rip you from him, Cassian will fight like hell to keep you safe and protected. When you’ve had a bad day like this being wrapped up in Cassian’s arms is the perfect place to be.

You lift your face to wipe your fresh tears away. “I think I wanna do what we talked about. But I feel bad. I don’t want you to think I’m quitting just because you gave me the easy way out.” Cassian shakes his head slowly, cupping your cheeks. “That is not what I think at all, y/n. I wouldn’t have told you to quit if I hadn’t noticed you suffering. I know you, my love.” You hug him tight again.

Cass kisses the top of your head and smiles. You’re so thankful to have him as your mate. To have someone that understands you and your unspoken needs takes the weight of the world off your shoulders.

“Come sit with me.” He guides you to the armchair he was just occupying. “Ok daddy.” As soon as the words leave your mouth your eyes land on Rhys. The High Lord's brows shoot up to his hairline, a wicked smirk on his lips as he looks from you to Cassian.

Your cheeks turn crimson from embarrassment. Your stomach drops and anxiety from letting your secret slip builds in your chest. The only downside to when Cassian cares for you like this is forgetting you’re around others. It’s extra embarrassing when no one knows about your dynamic. You can’t move. If you move or breathe wrong you might throw up. Rhys opens his mouth and your anxiety builds up into your throat.

“Well brother, I didn’t expect you and little y/n were so…adventurous.” Rhys winks at you making you blush harder. Cassian growls, his protective mate instincts kicking in. Puffing his chest out Cassian pulls you against his strong body.

Rhys holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I meant nothing by it. Feyre and I are also adventurous. I’m just glad you’re both happy.” Cassian lets out another growl before reluctantly loosening his hold on you to sit you on his chair.

Ignoring Rhys he turns to you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I got you something earlier, I’ll be right back.” You nod and give him a reassuring smile. Cassian gives Rhys a death glare before leaving the room.

You stare into the fire to avoid looking at Rhys. He clears his throat making you jump. Quickly looking at him you find Rhys staring. There’s no judgement in his gaze. “Go ahead, say what I know you’re thinking.” Rhys shakes his head. “Y/n, I have nothing to say. No insults, I swear.” You blink back another wave of tears at the sincerity in his voice. “You make Cassian very happy and I’m so thankful for that. He deserves that. Knowing he makes you equally as happy brings me joy.”

You give your friend a watery smile. “Thank you Rhys.” He nods and takes a sip of whiskey.

A moment later Cassian comes back with your favorite blanket and a small box with the logo of your favorite candy shop. Your face lights up at the sight of the treat.

Cass lifts you and wraps you in the blanket in one smooth motion. Sitting with you in his lap he plops the candy box on your lap. “Spoiling me,” you tease. Cassian kisses your cheek. “You’ve had a bad day, you deserve to be spoiled. And to eat whatever junk you want.”

You lean up to peck his lips. “Thank you daddy. I love you.” “Love you more, sweet pea.” Melting into Cassian you open the box to start picking at the candy. Cassian and Rhys’s conversation faded as you got lost in your own little world, safe and sound with Cassian.

[vvanillal]

The loss of innocence ꣑ৎ

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THIS IS UNFINISHED AND IM NOT GONNA FINSIH IT!

Warnings: Harry Potter x Reader, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Semi smut

Word count: 1.4k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

To say you were all the talk at Hogwarts is an understatement; Well, people are still talking. 5 weeks ago you stepped foot on the grounds as the Librarian Helper. It was your goal to have a quiet, and calming job, and nothing is better than a Librarian. Students would come in to talk about you. They would sit down with a random book, and whisper to each other while looking straight at you. They couldn’t be more obvious. Why? You were the youngest of the faculty at Hogwarts. 21 years old, you were. That meant students tried to befriend you rather than treat you like a superior.

“Hermione, you know I cannot give you a pass to the restricted section even if I wanted to. I don’t have that privilege,” you say, smiling softly at her. She was one of your favorites; she visited the library often. “C’mon, can’t you talk Madam Pince into letting me,” she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes. You shook your head, watching her hopefulness tarnish. “I’m sorry,” you say. “Surely you can just sneak me in and no one would notice? And besides, it’s you, the librarian's helper. No one is going to think anything if they catch you!” Hermonie’s face was slightly red from speaking so fast and running out of breath. “NO,” you exclaimed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ron and Harry pushing each other for a place as leader. You raised your eyebrow, and they each smiled while trying to make the other fall behind. “Madam Y/L/N, nice to see you this morning,” Ron surprisingly said first. Harry nodded quickly with the biggest grin he could muster up. You eyed them both, confused. They acted like this everytime, but still never failed to amaze you. “Ron, Harry,” you nodded between the two of them, but your eyes lingered on one of the boys. Harry looked down, a rosy blush now across his cheeks.

“Do you two have anything to do with this?” You asked the boys. “Yes,” Hermione said, and at the same time Harry nearly screamed “NO!” You smiled, trying to hold back your laughter. “Well- I mean- I told them not to bother you,” Harry stammers, and you caught Ron rolling his eyes. You laugh, “It’s fine. I’m not bothered; as long as Hermonie doesn’t try to use me as a pass again.”

You chat with them for what seemed like hours. Even in the time that passed, you were still standing. They opted to pull up chairs. It looked like they were gathered around to hear a story. As Ron and Hermione got off topic, arguing, your eyes wandered around until they found Harry. But his eyes seemed to be fixated on your body. You watched as his eyes outlined your curves intently. You were dressed in a white button-up blouse, paired with a brown pencil skirt. The button up was tucked in, leaving room to show off the dip of your hips. You move your blown-out curls from your face, fix your glasses, and clear your throat. Ron and Hermione stopped talking, and Harry jumped up, leaving the library. “Guess that’s your queue to leave,” you said.

As you picked up around the library, only one person was on your mind. Harry was your favorite. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be the favorite, for sure. But for some reason, it felt different. It didn’t feel like he was just a favorite. He was the teacher's pet, though; always volunteering, and doing anything and everything you asked of him. Even when you necessarily didn’t need help, he would insist. Unlike the librarian, you liked to put each book back; not using magic. It calmed you, in some sense, to put the books neatly back in their place and ready for the next day. Kids would still leave books lying, whether you told them to clean up or not.

You were humming to yourself, making laps around the bookshelf, sorting them in their rightful place. Deep in the zone, you felt someone tap your shoulder, causing you to jump and drop a few books. “Shit-” you cover your heart, feeling it beat against your chest. You regretted swearing now that you saw who that person was. “Oh, Harry! You scared me,” you said embarrassingly. He sheepishly looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s late; aren’t you going to get in trouble for being out of bed this late,” you ask. “Not if they don’t find out,” he smirks confidently. You nod a smile on your lips. “Are you in need of something?” He looks around, “No- I mean yes- I wanted to help you.”

So that was it, Harry helped you put away the books. As you talked about nonsense on the backside of the bookshelf he was on, you felt the heat of someone else's stare. Truthfully, you felt it since Harry walked through the door. You look around the library, checking over your shoulders, and when you don't find anyone you look at Harry. His eyes were already on you, though. So it’s him, you think to yourself. He didn’t look away this time, like usual; and you felt like challenging him. You smirk, which ultimately puts him at a loss instantly.

“I think we’re done here,” you say, smoothing down your skirt. Harry nodded, but he looked like he had unfinished business. “I want to talk to you about something important. Honestly, that’s the reason I came tonight,” he admitted. You were nervous. He sits down on one of the tables, his eyes huge. He played with his fingers in his lap, as he seemed to struggle to get it out. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” you walk toward him. His eyes widened as much as they’d go. “This is going to sound stupid- and I don’t even know why I wanted to ask you this… oh, this is stupid.” He went on. You shook your head, which in return made him stop laughing. “What,” he asked. “It’s not stupid, Harry. Whatever it is obviously is important.”

Well, what he said was definitely not something on tonight’s agenda. “I want you to help me,” he said, his face instantly going red. “I-I mean will you… help me?” You stood confused, “with,” you extend the H. ”I want you to help me with sex,” he said bluntly. Now you were even more confused, and worse, you didn’t know what to think. “You’re judging me aren’t you? This-” before he could start anxiously babbling again, you interrupted him. “No I’m not judging, Harry. I just- we have a teacher-student relationship,” you explain. “Y/N please, I trust you. I need this; I'm bad at everything. Please,” he begged. He looked so needy, sitting on the table with sweat trickling down his forehead. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes heavy with emotion. You were thinking about it. If you were to get caught though- and he was younger than you- what if people found out? And you expressed exactly that. “I don’t care that you’re older than me, I’m an adult.” And with more persuading, he fully convinced you.

You moved closer, painfully slow until you were between his legs. In this position, you were taller than him. You look into his eyes and bring your lips closer to his, but you stop before your lips could touch his. “Are you sure,” your breath is hot against his lips. He nods, brushing your lips together. You finally press your lips to his, and he moans instantly into the kiss. You bite at his bottom lip, nipping at the soft skin. He was clearly inexperienced, letting his teeth clash against yours as tried to stick his tongue in your mouth. He was sloppy. “Slow down, Harry. Let me show you,” you correct his kiss, earning a whine in return from him. He did as he was taught, making you smirk against his lips.

You take his arm, pull him from the table and show him to a comfortable chair that was sat in the corner of the library. You sit him down with a soft push to his shoulder. He grunts, but hesitantly puts his hands on your ass, guiding you to sit on his lap. You squeeze your thighs against him, going back to kissing his lips, and then his neck. He seemed to like you on his neck because he was struggling to be quiet. “You're doing so good, Harry,” you whisper.

[morganaawriterr]

One; Dracula's Daughter

SYNOPSIS ➺ In a world where vampires and humans coexist, Dracula defies tradition by marrying a mortal — his human lover from long ago. From their union, you are born, but despite your father’s powerful bloodline, you arrive in this world as a human. Or so it seems. A prophecy reveals that one bite could awaken a strength to rival Dracula’s own. On your twentieth birthday, your father hosts a grand two-week event to find the perfect suitor who will shape the future of the vampire world.

Among the contenders are Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake — three powerful and captivating men chosen to fight for your hand. But with power, love, and destiny at stake, the question remains — who will you choose? And what will you become?

PAIRING ➺ human fem!reader X vampire!Sunghoon X vampire!Jay X vampire!Jake

GENRE ➺ Fluff; Angst; Best friends to lovers; childhood friends to lover; enemies to lovers; royal au; Gothic style;

WORDS ➺ 5.5k

WARNINGS ➺ Cursing, mentions of biting, blood, fighting, tension, tooth-rotting fluff, cursing; possessiveness;

IMPORTANT NOTE ➺ There's a catch about this story! Every week you guys will vote for the boy you liked more in each chapter and the most voted one will be the reader's choice in the story! It starts, today! So, read this post and vote on your favorite boy based on this intro!

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ ITS FINALLY HERE OH MY GOD!!! I like this story so so so so much you guys have no idea! I've been planning it for weeks, writing plot ideas and making notes. I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter, and I promise the next ones will only get better! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you so much! Masterlist

The light filtering through the tall windows was a blend of pale grays, casting a soft, diffused glow over your serene bedroom. You sat on a wooden chair in front of your vanity, anxiously brushing your long hair with a soft hairbrush. Your gaze shifted from your hair to your reflection in the oval mirror atop the table. Your expression was serious, lips pressed into a thin line.

Your anxious heartbeat was unmistakably loud, and echoing within the vast space, reverberating off the stone walls. You couldn’t help it—your destiny rested in your own hands. Just thinking about it made your stomach churn, nervousness spreading through your body like a deadly plague. Your fingertips trembled slightly as you set down the hairbrush, your eyes scrutinizing your dress once more.

A soft knock on the heavy wooden door made your head snap up, your gaze darting toward the entrance. “Can I come in?” You recognized your mother’s voice.

“Yes,” you replied softly.

She entered the room with a warm smile on her crimson lips, her lustrous brown hair swaying with every movement. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor grew louder as she approached. Then she stopped, standing before you.

“Are you okay, darling?” your mother asked, bending down to meet your eyes. The anxiety on your face was prominent, and as a mother, she wished she could erase it with a mere snap of her fingers.

“Yeah, I am,” you whispered, knowing full well it wasn’t true. But you didn’t want to worry her, understanding that this wasn’t easy for her either.

A heavy silence settled in the room once again, and the muted light from outside perfectly mirrored your emotions. You didn’t mind the lack of sunshine; in fact, you preferred it. The sun was often overbearing, making you sweat and feel uncomfortably warm—a sensation you despised.

Your dark eyes avoided your mother’s, instead drifting to the cloudy sky outside. Its somber hue offered a sense of familiarity you craved deeply. But she didn’t let you retreat into your thoughts for long. Her warm hand reached for yours, gently pulling you to your feet as her attentive eyes admired the dark dress you wore.

The dress was sleek and long, black with a corset inspired by bat wings, pointy at the neckline. Under it, you wore a flowing, silky shirt adorned with intricate handmade details at the wrists. Around your neck rested a heavy choker, also black and embellished with obsidian stones. Silver rings adorned your fingers, their weight and black accents complementing your elongated, crimson nails.

“You look stunning,” your mother complimented, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Her long, pointed nails grazed your skin lightly, sending a faint tickle through you.

“Thanks, Mom. Do you think they’ll like it?” The question felt petty, but insecurity wasn’t something you often battled.

Today, however, was different. It was the first time you’d meet the three candidates your father had chosen for you, and you wanted to make a memorable first impression.

“I’m certain they will, darling,” she assured you with a tender smile, her white teeth gleaming. You loved that she remained human, just like you. “We should go; everyone is waiting outside.”

With that, she stepped away and headed for the door. “I’ll go first. You have two minutes.” And just like that, she exited, closing the door behind her.

You took one last look at your reflection, ensuring your dark eye makeup was still flawless. You’d created a sharp winged eyeliner over a shimmering smoky eye, then lined your waterline with black to accentuate your nearly obsidian irises.

You reapplied your burgundy lip gloss, pressed your lips together, and took a deep breath before stepping out of your sanctuary, feeling the comforting aura of your room fade away. The stone corridors seemed shorter than usual as you walked through them, the sound of your thin heels echoing with each step. Your eyes wandered over the towering walls and windows, their corners adorned with delicate details. This castle was undoubtedly your favorite of the three your father owned.

When you opened the door to step outside, you were met with more people than you’d anticipated, all dressed elegantly and sipping from tall glasses. Every eye turned to you as the door creaked shut. Yet, their gazes didn’t feel judgmental or oppressive—just observant. You tried to ignore them as you descended the final staircase leading to the garden.

“Oh, YN, there you are! I was looking for you,” your father, Dracula, called as you approached.

“I’m here, Father,” you replied with a small smile, your eyes meeting his. But you couldn’t help stealing a quick glance at the vampires standing beside him.

A familiar face immediately brought a smile to your lips, his presence easing the tension that had gripped you.

“I wanted to introduce you to the gentlemen before the official announcement,” your father said, gesturing with a flourish of his dark red cape. “This is—”

“Jake!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in disbelief as they locked onto your best friend. He opened his arms, inviting you into a hug, and you stepped forward, embracing him warmly.

“That’s the surprise I was planning!” your father added, a smile playing on his lips as he watched your expression transform at the sight of Jake.

“Surprise!” Jake joked, flashing one of his charming smiles. His brown hair had grown considerably, now falling just below his eyes.

You turned to your father, a teasing tone in your voice. “You didn’t choose him just because he’s my best friend, right?”

“Of course not. He was one of the top candidates, alongside these two,” Dracula explained, gesturing to the other two tall vampires standing nearby.

To your dismay, you immediately recognized one of them. His teasing smirk was all too familiar.

“Jay…” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he flashed you his signature grin. You wanted to roll your eyes again, but you couldn’t help the corners of your lips curling up at his striking features.

“My lady,” Jongseong bowed, his platinum hair catching the muted light of the overcast sky.

“You two know each other?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately,” you replied with a feigned smile, hating the smug look on Jay’s face.

“Unfortunately?” he interjected. “I’m honored to know you, and I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done,” Jay teased, but you simply rolled your eyes again and turned your attention to the quiet vampire in the middle.

His piercing blue eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine. Unable to hold his gaze, you looked back at Dracula.

“This gentleman is Sunghoon, from the North,” your father introduced.

“My queen,” Sunghoon bowed, his deep voice strangely familiar.

He fell silent after his greeting, but his eyes never left you. You could feel them even when you weren’t looking at him, burning into your very being. Your father observed the interaction closely, taking mental notes and watching for any signs of discomfort on your face.

“It’s time to make the announcement. Let’s go,” Dracula declared, reaching out to hold your warm hand as he stood by your side. Together, you walked toward the small podium where the news would be revealed to the world.

Behind you, the three vampire men followed in silence, equally aware of the eyes fixed on them. After all, they were the best among thousands, chosen for the chance to win your heart—Dracula’s only daughter. They could all detect the scent of your blood from a distance; its aroma is uniquely human. It was still hard to believe you were entirely human. Your father was the most fearsome and powerful vampire alive, yet your mother’s human genes had prevailed over his.

Even you had struggled to accept it. When you first realized you weren’t like those around you, you despised yourself. You detested your human fragility and the vulnerability of your body. You hated being different. Though your childhood memories were hazy, everything intensified during puberty. The bullying became unbearable, the hormones of adolescence ran wild, and everyone seemed to grow crueler.

Now, as an adult, you’ve come to terms with your humanity and even learned to cherish it. It was a gift from your mother, and you could never hate her. Part of your self-acceptance came from the unwavering support of your parents and Jake. He had always been there for you, listening as you poured out your feelings and cried until you had no tears left. He never judged you. Instead, he held you close, ensuring you felt understood and loved.

Your thoughts quieted as you stood at the podium with your father and mother beside you, gazing at the crowd of subordinates who seemed eager to learn more about the three men who had passed every test. You glanced at them briefly, noting how they stood tall and composed, exuding a powerful aura. Sunghoon was the tallest, but Jake’s broad shoulders made him appear the strongest. Jay, as usual, wore a flirtatious smile, his fangs just visible, and he seemed relaxed despite the gravity of the occasion.

“We are gathered here today in my castle to announce the official start of the two-week event to find the most suitable vampire for my daughter, now that she has reached the age of twenty,” Dracula began, his voice deliberate and commanding. “As you all know, I defined tradition by marrying a human, and so my daughter was born. YN Dracula possesses unique blood. Though fully human, she has the potential to become the only being strong enough to rival me with just a single bite. Her value is immeasurable—not only as my firstborn and the future heir to my throne, but also as the one who could become the most powerful vampire in existence.” He paused, allowing his words to resonate. “After countless combats and rigorous tests, the three strongest and most intelligent vampires have been chosen for the chance to win my daughter’s heart. These gentlemen will face three final trials, and the victor of each will earn the opportunity to spend time alone with the princess, striving to win her affection. Ultimately, the final decision will be hers.”

You nodded as your father outlined the rules, his deep voice carrying across the vast green fields as the crowd watched intently. You hadn’t been entirely fond of his decision to structure the process so formally. You’d wanted something simpler, more natural—like the love story between him and your mother. But he had explained the weight of your role in this world and the responsibilities you carried, and so you reluctantly agreed.

When Dracula mentioned your name, all eyes shifted to you. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape, unaccustomed to such intense scrutiny.

“The three vampires are: Park Sunghoon from the North; Sim Jake, son of the Elder vampire; and Park Jay, the only son of our armory supplier and king of the East,” your father announced, gesturing for the vampires to step forward and bow to the crowd.

The audience erupted into applause, the sound overwhelming even your father’s commanding voice. They were thrilled to witness the unfolding of this grand event. You were their beloved princess, admired across all kingdoms for your grace, beauty, and intellect.

Your mother stepped forward, smiling warmly at the crowd before turning to glance at you.

“I’m confident our daughter will make the right choice, especially since all three men seem well-suited for the role of a worthy king. So, without further delay, let the trials begin! Tomorrow, the first test will be announced. May the one who makes her feel safe and secure emerge victorious!” As she concluded, the crowd broke into applause once more.

You turned to your parents, who smiled at you reassuringly. As your father wrapped your mother in a tight embrace, you joined them, craving the comfort of their hug to soothe your nerves. Your mother cupped your jaw as you pulled away, her eyes brimming with pride and joy. You returned her smile and soon felt your father’s lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Their love, as always, succeeded in calming your restless heart.

An hour had passed since your mother announced the official start of the event, and you’d spent it greeting familiar faces and politely bowing to everyone who caught your eye. You desperately craved a glass of the wine everyone else seemed to be enjoying, but you could barely move an inch before someone reached for your hand and struck up a conversation.

“Oh, it’s such a shame my son came in fourth place; you would’ve adored him!” an older woman remarked, her cold skin sending goosebumps across yours as she clasped your hand. “He loves wearing black too, and he’s so stylish and strong. He just couldn’t beat these three because they’re much older and more experienced, you know.”

You offered her a kind smile. “I understand. It’s truly a shame. I’d love to meet him someday—”

“Can you believe it? She’s my future princess, and I haven’t even had a chance to speak with her yet.” A familiar voice chimed in beside you, his arm slipping around your waist.

You turned your head to see Jay smiling at the woman, his grip on you almost possessive.

“Mind if I steal her away?” he asked with a smirk, glancing at you briefly. It was enough to notice the forced smile on your face.

“Oh, of course! Go ahead, I’m sorry for keeping her so long!” the woman joked kindly, winking at you before she walked away, eliciting a soft giggle from you.

You waited until she was out of sight before yanking his arm away. “Who said you could touch me?” you snapped, irritation clear in your voice.

“That dumbass Jake did,” Jay retorted, raising an eyebrow as he stepped in front of you.

“Yeah, that dumbass is my best friend. He’s allowed to touch me,” you shot back, the urge to slap him growing stronger. But you knew better. Everyone was watching, and you had a reputation to uphold, so instead, you started walking toward the wine table.

“That’s not fair. If he’s already close to you, you’ll just choose him,” Jay insisted, trailing behind you.

You stopped abruptly, shooting him a look of disapproval. “That doesn’t mean anything,” you said curtly before continuing your mission.

As you reached for the last glass of wine, a hand from behind you snatched it away. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around to find Jay smiling at you once again.

“Looking for this?” he teased, waving the glass in front of your face before holding it high above his head, out of your reach.

“Give me that!” you demanded through gritted teeth, your blood boiling.

“Then tell me how it’s fair that you already know and like Jake…” Jay pressed, leaning closer until his face was level with yours.

His warm breath brushed against your parted lips, sending a shiver through your body. His cologne was intoxicating, and though you’d never admit it, Jay looked undeniably handsome. His platinum hair swept back to reveal his forehead, his red suit exposing just enough of his chest, and the silver necklaces dangling near your face only added to his allure.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile as a plan formed in your mind.

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Now, give me the glass! I deserve it!” you protested, furrowing your brows and glaring at him.

“No explanation, no wine—” Jay began, but you cut him off.

“There’s nothing to explain. He’s just my best friend,” you said simply, knowing full well he’d twist your words. Just as you expected.

He was as easy to read as an open book, fortunately for you.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you friend-zoned him?” Jay blurted out, stunned. His mouth hung open, and his arms dropped slightly. Seizing the opportunity, you snatched the glass from his hand, proud of your successful distraction.

“It’s not like that,” you replied without looking at him, busy filling your glass and hiding a sly smile.

“Oh, that’s fantastic news!” Jay exclaimed, his voice louder than necessary. You turned, resting the rim of the glass against your lips, your eyes locked on his as you took a slow sip.

Jongseong watched intently, admiring the subtle movement of your throat as you swallowed. He had always thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but you managed to surpass his expectations every time. The way the corset hugged your figure and the heavy choker accentuated your neck drove him to the edge of madness.

“That doesn’t mean anything, Jay. I still hate you,” you said, your voice low and sultry. Before he could respond, you pushed him aside and walked away.

You could feel Jay’s gaze lingering on you as you disappeared into the crowd, but you maintained your composure. Meanwhile, Jay leaned against the table, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. He knew his behavior wasn’t exactly proper and that you had every right to dislike him, but his intentions weren’t malicious. He was confident in his charm and certain you’d change your opinion of him soon enough.

As you moved further into the crowd, your body began sending signals that you needed a moment alone to recharge. Your throat tightened, and your palms grew sweaty. Keeping one eye on your parents to ensure they didn’t notice, you slipped away from the gathering.

You take a deep breath, finish the last sip of wine, and leave the glass behind as you venture further from the crowd, stepping into the serene garden at the back of the castle. The stillness envelops you, instantly easing the tension in your body. Your shoulders relax, no longer feeling stiff. Under the gray sky, you pause to admire the vast green fields stretching endlessly around the castle. Without hesitation, you bend down, slip off your heels, and step onto the grass.

The coolness of the grass sends a pleasant shiver through your body, further calming your nerves. You leave your heels on the stone path and walk in the opposite direction, letting them behind. The breeze brushes against your warm face and tousles your long hair, making it dance in the wind. A smile spreads across your lips, savoring the sense of freedom it brings.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but the castle looks majestic surrounded by the empty fields. Eventually, you find yourself sitting on the ground, gazing at it in awe. It’s hard to believe you’re already twenty; the last four years flew by in a blur. You let yourself fall back onto the grass, closing your eyes and soaking in the tranquility of nature.

Everything is peaceful until you sense someone approaching. Soon, their shadow falls over you. You keep your eyes shut, waiting for a clue to identify your visitor. His familiar chuckle gives him away, and you can’t help but smile.

“Were you following me, Jakey?” you tease, opening your eyes to see your best friend.

Jake grins and sits beside you, your heels in his hands. “I wasn’t following you... exactly,” he tries to explain, but bursts into laughter as you give him a skeptical look. “I saw your heels in the garden, and when I looked further, I spotted you walking through the fields. Your dress and hair swaying in the wind.”

“Oh, so you did follow me,” you say with a playful smirk.

“Yeah… I guess I did,” Jake admits, flashing you that adorable smile of his.

You notice how his gaze softens as he looks at you, and your heart skips a beat. You break eye contact and lay your head back on the grass. Jake follows suit, lying on his side to face you.

“Did it weird you out that I applied to be your future husband?” your best friend asks, his eyes lingering on your face.

You turn to face him. “Not weird. Just surprising… I thought we were just best friends.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you notice his smile falter slightly, though he quickly masks it with an even brighter one.

“I mean, I’m still your best friend,” he reassures you. “I just thought it would be an honor to stand by your side and rule with you forever,” Jake adds.

His words carry an unexpected weight, a raw and honest confession. You sit up, facing him directly. Though vampires can’t blush, you can tell he’s shy, his hazel eyes avoiding yours. You reach out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, hoping to comfort him.

Jake finally meets your gaze, his eyes heavy with an emotion he can’t quite name. It feels like the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you breathless. His presence feels suddenly overwhelming, his breath close to your lips and his hands resting delicately on your lap.

“I’d love to have you rule by my side,” you whisper, your chest tight. “But to do that, you’ll have to win all the tests!” you tease, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere that has settled between you.

Jake laughs and turns his head away, embarrassed by your sudden playfulness. “I can’t promise that—the other two are really good,” he admits with a boyish grin, his fangs peeking out. “But I can promise to be the best partner if you do choose me.” His warm brown eyes lock onto yours, as if sealing his vow.

You want to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Jake notices he’s caught you off guard and gives you a gentle nudge.

“Don’t act all weird now,” he complains with a pout.

“I won’t. That’s my promise,” you reply with a smile, letting your head rest on his shoulder as your gaze returns to the castle.

The silence between you grows, but it’s comfortable—no more words are needed. Your breathing slows, and you notice Jake’s does too.

“We should head back. They might be looking for us,” Jake suggests, breaking the quiet.

You don’t respond verbally, simply nodding and standing up. You wait for him to do the same, then begin walking back toward the garden, Jake trailing behind with your heels still in hand. All too soon, the garden comes into view.

You take a deep breath and wait for Jake to return your heels. He sets them down on the stone path, and you carefully slip them on, brushing the grass from your socks. Together, you walk silently back toward the gathering, and to your surprise, many of the guests have already left.

“Oh, Jake, I’ve been looking for you—” your father says excitedly, stepping aside to reveal Jake’s father. “You have a visitor!”

You bow politely to the man and step away, leaving your best friend with his dad. Despite the quiet moments with Jake, you feel the need to be alone once more. From a distance, you spot your mother speaking with a few people and decide to walk to her.

“Mom, I’m heading inside. I’ll be in the painting room if you need me,” you murmur softly, close to her ear, feeling the weight of people’s gaze on you.

“Okay, darling. Take care,” she reassures you, her lips curving into a gentle smile. You bow politely to the others and make your way back into the castle, craving a warm cup of tea and the solace of painting.

And that’s exactly what you do. You slip off your heels once more and quietly tiptoe into the expansive, rustic kitchen. After a quick glance to ensure no one is around, you head straight for the tea jars. Your fingers glide over the glass containers before stopping at the hibiscus flowers.

You scoop some into your hand and drop them into a large cup. To your surprise, water is already boiling over the fire, so you pour it over the flowers. Watching the water turn a deep crimson, you wait a few minutes before filtering the tea and carrying it to your painting room.

The familiar space brings a smile to your face, your body relaxing once again. You step inside quietly, greeted by the strong scent of drying paint, your favorite. You walk to the tall, stained-glass windows and push open the curtains, allowing the faint light outside to cast colorful shadows across the room. Slowly, you bend down, remove your stained socks, and then undo the corset, leaving you in just the long skirts and the flowing white blouse.

“Ah… this feels nice,” you murmur to yourself, feeling the tension in your chest ease.

Humming softly, you reach for the paints and brushes, then settle onto the tall chair in front of the unfinished canvas. The girl’s incomplete face stares back at you. You let your creativity flow, painting with slow, deliberate strokes. Occasionally, you reach for the warm tea, savoring its bitter flavor.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but the paint on your pallet is beginning to dry. You yawn and rise from the chair, reaching for more paint before the current batch dries completely. But you’re startled by the sight of a tall figure leaning against the doorframe.

His blue eyes are soft yet intense, and he appears calm and composed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was passing by and couldn’t resist peeking in,” Sunghoon explains, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. After all, you’re the only one I haven’t spoken to today,” you reply, gesturing for him to step inside.

Sunghoon moves slowly, his eyes scanning the room, utterly captivated by the beauty of your artwork.

“You made these yourself?” he asks, his voice deep and smooth.

“Yes, I’ve been painting since I was a child,” you explain, smiling warmly, pleased that he seems to appreciate your creations.

“I remember that…” Sunghoon murmurs, more to himself, but you catch it, and confusion flickers across your face.

“What?” you ask, eyeing him curiously.

“Oh, no—I mean, it just feels familiar,” he stammers, his voice faltering. But you’re too tired to press further, so you let it go.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you longer than usual, his eyes tracing your nose and cheeks as if committing every detail to memory. What you don’t realize is that he’s struggling to contain his joy at finally seeing you again, realizing how little you’ve changed. His intense stare makes your cheeks flush, unaccustomed to such attention.

“Do you have something to say?” you ask, hoping to break his focus. It works, and his eyes shift from you to the canvas.

“Not really,” Sunghoon dismisses. “I just wanted to watch you paint. I know you probably prefer peace and quiet while you work, so I’ll just sit here and observe. If you don’t mind, of course, my queen.”

A giggle escapes your lips, and you roll your eyes. “I’m not a queen yet.”

“You will be.”

After his words, your eyes meet briefly, and you quickly look away, laughing softly as your cheeks grow warmer under his piercing blue gaze. Sunghoon seems to notice and moves to the back of the room, settling onto the small sofa. His presence behind you makes it easier to focus on your painting.

A comfortable silence fills the room, broken only by the sound of brushstrokes and your steady breathing. As night falls and the room grows darker, Sunghoon stands and lights the candles in the corners, restoring warmth to the space.

Then he approaches you quietly, standing just behind your chair. His presence is unmistakable, and your heart rate quickens. He’s the same height as you while you’re seated, and suddenly, his breath is close to your face, fanning over your ear and cheek.

“It looks mesmerizing,” Sunghoon compliments, his voice low and dangerously close.

You swallow nervously and lean back slightly to turn and face him. “Thank you,” you reply, so close that you’re sure he can feel your breath against his lips.

“I think—” Your eyes lock with his again, those deep blue irises seeming to peer into your soul. “I think I’m done for today,” you finish, your chest tightening as you struggle to breathe.

“Good, it’s late. I was going to suggest you take a break and rest,” Sunghoon says, stepping back and extending his hand to help you down from the chair.

Your warm fingers gently grasp his cold ones, and you slowly step down, your feet meeting the hard floor.

“Are you always this warm?” he asks, pressing your hand to his freezing cheek, savoring the comfort it brings.

You stand there, speechless, your heart pounding as if it might burst. Sunghoon looks at you, waiting for an answer, but all he finds are your flushed cheeks and wide eyes, stunned by his boldness.

Embarrassed, you pull your hand from his grip and quickly gather your things, desperate to leave the room and find fresh air to calm your racing heart.

“Wait, YN—” he begins.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night,” you say hurriedly, stumbling over your words as you step out of the painting room and slam the door shut.

As the moon glows brightly in the vast, dark sky, you sigh and lean back against the edge of the tub, your eyes closed as your mind races. After spending time with the three men today, you thought it would make your decision easier, but it feels like there’s still so much uncertainty ahead.

Your mind replays fragments of your life as you sit motionless. You see yourself as a child, carefree and blissfully unaware of what was to come. Then, the memories shift to the bullying you endured for your rosy cheeks and warm skin, as if it were a sin. Even now, the sting of judgment lingers in your heart during moments of vulnerability, and you despise it. But just when you felt utterly alone, Jake entered your life, showing you the beauty of being mortal and warm, of having blood coursing through your veins. That was when your fear faded, and you began to embrace who you are, finding solace in painting.

You can still vividly recall the night Jay saved your life and how the very next day he mocked you for what he called your “weak human body.” Though he’s since grown and apologized, the memory still haunts you whenever you see him.

Then there’s Sunghoon, who stirs an odd sense of nostalgia and familiarity you can’t quite place. It’s as if he’s an old friend, someone who has known you forever, yet you have no memory of meeting him. The fact that he lives in the north only adds to the confusion. He couldn’t have crossed paths with you, given how far away he resides.

You notice the bathwater is beginning to cool, but the thought of calling a maid and having to engage in conversation makes you decide to endure it. You open your eyes and shift in the water, turning your face toward the window to admire the full moon in all its glory.

Sunghoon is the first to occupy your thoughts once again, having been the last one you spent time with. Your mind replays his actions in vivid detail—his long, cold fingers holding your warm hand against his cheek. You can still picture his closed eyes, slightly parted lips, and serene expression. The moles scattered across his face like a painting only add to his allure.

Then, Jake pushes Sunghoon away from your mind, his endearing smile and familiar warmth making your heart skip a beat. You know Jake is sincere with his words, and that makes his promise feel all the more genuine. His brown hair has grown longer, framing his face perfectly and enhancing his already striking features just the way you like.

Against your will, Jay soon enters your thoughts too. His confident smirk, his intoxicating cologne, and his confident demeanor are infuriatingly tempting. You’re certain you hate him—his reckless behavior, his sharp tongue, and the trail of rumors about girls and trouble that seem to follow him everywhere. Yet, there’s no denying his attractiveness and undeniable talent.

You roll your eyes and pout, your head beginning to ache from the relentless thinking and the weight of the decision looming over you. But you know this is only the beginning, and the choice will only grow more difficult as time passes.

The water has turned completely cold now, raising goosebumps on your skin. You close your eyes, slide deeper into the tub, and submerge yourself entirely. The chill of the water soothes your headache almost instantly. You remain still for a few moments, the silence beneath the surface bringing you a fleeting sense of peace.

Important Note; There's a catch about this story! Every week you guys will vote for the boy you liked more in each chapter and the most voted one will be the reader's choice in the story! It starts, today! So, read this post and vote on your favorite boy based on this intro!

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[sturniololuvz]

Can you make one where the triplets sister has a panic attack at school and the triplets have to come pick her up??

“We Got You”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had felt off all day. It started as a tightness in her chest during her first-period class, but she brushed it off. She just needed to breathe, needed to focus. But as the day went on, the weight on her chest only grew heavier, and by the time lunch rolled around, she could barely think straight.

The cafeteria was loud—too loud. The clattering of trays, the overlapping conversations, the sudden bursts of laughter—it all felt like it was closing in on her. Her breathing became shallow, her vision blurred at the edges, and her hands trembled as she tried to take a sip from her water bottle.

Something wasn’t right.

She needed air.

Y/N pushed back her chair abruptly, making it scrape against the floor. A few people turned to look, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out.

Her legs felt weak as she made her way out of the cafeteria and into the nearest empty hallway. But no matter how deep she tried to breathe, it wasn’t working. Her heart was racing, her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and a horrible dizziness washed over her.

What’s happening to me?

She pressed herself against the cool wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to ground herself, but it only made her more aware of how trapped she felt inside her own body.

Then, a voice. “Y/N?”

She barely registered her teacher standing in front of her, a look of concern on their face.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head quickly, unable to speak as panic clawed at her throat.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” the teacher said gently, kneeling down to her level. “Let’s get you to the nurse, okay?”

Y/N couldn’t find the strength to argue. Everything felt overwhelming. The ringing in her ears, the pounding in her chest, the burning behind her eyes—she just wanted it to stop.

The next few minutes were a blur. The teacher led her to the nurse’s office, where she sat in a chair, knees drawn to her chest, trying desperately to get her breathing under control. The nurse’s voice was calm and reassuring, but nothing seemed to help.

“I’m going to call your brothers to come get you,” the nurse finally said, and for the first time since the panic started, Y/N felt a sliver of relief.

—

It didn’t take long for the triplets to show up.

Matt, Nick, and Chris burst through the nurse’s office door, their faces a mix of worry and urgency.

“Y/N,” Matt was the first to speak, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down in front of her. “Hey, we’re here, okay?”

Chris sat beside her, his hand finding hers as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, just breathe, we got you.”

Nick ran a hand through his hair, his usual carefree expression nowhere to be found. “Why didn’t you text us?”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I—I didn’t know what was happening.” Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t think.”

Matt placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “That’s okay. You don’t have to explain. We’re taking you home.”

The nurse nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. She just needs some rest and time to calm down.”

Chris helped her stand, keeping an arm around her as they walked out of the school together.

The second they got in the car, Matt passed her a water bottle while Nick adjusted the air conditioning.

“Deep breaths, okay?” Chris said as he sat next to her in the back seat. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

She followed his lead, mirroring his slow breathing. After a few minutes, the tightness in her chest loosened just a little.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the panic had faded into exhaustion. Chris helped her out of the car, and Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s get you comfy,” Nick said, leading the way inside.

Y/N didn’t know what she’d do without them.

[empressdede]

The Secretary - 10

Previous. Next

CHAPTER TEN

Serena didn’t waste any time.

As soon as she left the locker room, she made a beeline for Roman’s private office.

Her heart was pounding, frustration burning in her chest. She had spent years proving she was good enough, and now, just because she was close to Roman, people thought she was only here because of him?

Hell. No.

When she reached the door, she didn’t hesitate—she knocked once before pushing it open.

Roman was sitting at his desk, but as soon as he saw her, his brows furrowed. “Serena?”

She shut the door behind her. “We need to talk.”

Roman sat up straight, immediately giving her his full attention. “What’s wrong?”

Serena took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Do people actually think I’m getting special treatment because of you?”

Roman’s expression darkened. “Who said that?”

Serena crossed her arms. “Charlotte.”

Roman exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Figures.”

Serena scoffed. “So it’s true? People are actually saying this?”

Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “People are always gonna talk, Serena. They see me close to someone, and they assume things. It’s not new.”

Serena shook her head. “That’s not fair.”

Roman’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Serena let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve worked too hard for this, Roman. And I won’t have people thinking I’m only here because I’m with you.”

Roman nodded slowly, studying her. “So what are you saying?”

Serena hesitated.

Because she knew what she was afraid of—what she had always been afraid of.

That being with Roman would overshadow everything she had built. That people wouldn’t see her as her own person anymore.

And now, those fears were coming true.

She sighed, dropping into the chair across from him. “I don’t know.”

Roman leaned back, his gaze never leaving hers. “You thinking about ending this?”

Serena’s stomach dropped. “No.”

Roman’s expression didn’t change. “Because if you want out, you need to say it now.”

Serena looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest.

Because this wasn’t just a fling for him. He wouldn’t fight her on it if she wanted to walk away, but he was making it very clear—this was real.

And she needed to choose it.

She exhaled slowly. “I don’t want out.”

Roman nodded once, like he had already known her answer. “Good.”

Serena sighed. “But this is still messy.”

Roman smirked, leaning forward again. “Serena, we were always gonna be messy. You knew that.”

Serena groaned, covering her face. “I hate you.”

Roman chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

Serena dropped her hands. “So what do we do?”

Roman shrugged. “We do what we’ve been doing. We let people talk. Because at the end of the day, your work speaks for itself.”

Serena exhaled. “And if it doesn’t?”

Roman’s expression darkened again. “Then we shut them up.”

Serena blinked. “I feel like that’s not exactly professional.”

Roman smirked. “What? You think I’d let anyone disrespect my woman and get away with it?”

Serena felt way too many things at once at those words.

She swallowed. “I hate when you say things like that.”

Roman just grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Serena groaned again.

This man was impossible.

But she knew one thing for sure.

She wasn’t walking away.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Roman was not letting this slide.

Charlotte could talk all she wanted—he was used to people running their mouths about him. But dragging Serena into it? Questioning her credibility?

Nah. That wasn’t happening.

And if he was going to confront Charlotte, he was bringing backup.

Which is how he found himself standing outside the women’s locker room, arms crossed, while Naomi gave him an unimpressed look.

“So let me get this straight,” Naomi said, tilting her head. “You dragged me all the way over here just so I can help you check Charlotte?”

Roman nodded. “Pretty much.”

Naomi scoffed. “Boy, you do not need me for this.”

Roman smirked. “No, but it’s more fun when you’re involved.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, but she was already pushing the door open.

Inside, Charlotte was standing near her locker, scrolling through her phone.

Naomi didn’t waste time. “Yo, Flair.”

Charlotte glanced up, her smirk already forming. But when she noticed who was standing beside Naomi, the smirk faltered for just a second.

Roman stepped forward, his expression completely unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Charlotte arched a brow. “About what?”

Naomi scoffed. “Girl, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “Let me guess—this is about Serena?”

Roman didn’t blink. “You got something to say about her, say it to me.”

Charlotte’s smirk returned, but there was something uneasy about it now.

“I was just making an observation,” she said smoothly. “People talk, Roman. And when they see you getting close to someone, they start making connections.”

Roman tilted his head, his jaw tightening. “Let me make something very clear.”

Charlotte actually straightened, sensing the shift in his tone.

Roman stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. “Serena got her job because she earned it. Not because of me. And I don’t ever want to hear you—or anyone else—imply otherwise.”

Charlotte crossed her arms. “It’s not my fault if people assume things.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “And it’s not our fault you feel the need to run your mouth about business that ain’t yours.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Please. It’s wrestling. People talk. It’s not that serious.”

Roman took another step forward, his presence commanding.

“I don’t care what people talk about,” he said, his voice firm. “But if I ever hear you disrespect Serena again, we’re gonna have a real problem.”

Charlotte’s smirk finally disappeared.

Naomi smirked in satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Roman didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked out, Naomi right behind him.

As soon as they stepped into the hallway, Naomi grinned. “Damn, I love when you get all scary.”

Roman smirked. “That’s the point.”

Naomi bumped his shoulder. “You really care about her, huh?”

Roman didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

Naomi smiled knowingly. “Good.”

And for the first time all day, Roman felt like he had finally shut everyone up.

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Late post but I hope you guys enjoy. 😭🫶🏾 Charlotte a pain huh? 😔

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[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: You and Jiyong deal with the aftershock of the events from the hospital.

Warning's: slight angst, but more fluff than anything. Mentions of panic and anxiety.

A/N: Thank you to any and everyone who has been following this story and suffered through the rollercoaster. I appreciate y'all so much! <3

Chapter 9

Hidden Secrets Masterlist

Chapter 10- What Now?

You both sit in the room, silent. The noise out in the hall sounds foreign to the atmosphere in the room. You were informed you’d be forced to stay in the prison like cube for at least a day or two. Neither of you can utter a word or even look at each other, Jiyong gently wraps his arms around you. You don’t cry, you don’t scream, you don’t do anything but sit there. You imagine the pain she must have felt, the way her little body must’ve gasped for oxygen when she didn’t get it. You go so deep in your head that you don’t even realize when the doctor comes in to check on you.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” she says a few times before you snap out of your trance.

“Hmm,” you look up at her.

“Would you like to take her home? We can have her prepped for a burial.” She mentions and you literally can’t think. You look over to Jiyong for the first time since they took her from you.

“I’ll make the calls and have her burial set up,” his voice is weak and his throat dry, “Just do what needs to be done,” he says and stares at the floor.

“Ok, I’ll let them know.” She says with a sad smile.

“Just so you know,” she begins, “You can get through this. I lost my own when I was around your age, y/n,” you look her in the eyes and you see a hint of sadness as she remembers her own experience.

“It’s not easy, but in time you adjust,” she gives you a sad smile before leaving the room. Once again, it’s quiet. The hospital halls sound like a foreign universe that's miles away from where you are.

“Thank you,” you say quietly to Jiyong.

“For what,” he looks over at you.

“Everything,” you say as you break down for the first time.

“For coming home, for holding my hand, for taking lead on this whole fucked up situation,” you sob into his chest as he holds you close.

“Oh baby,” he whispers as he rocks you back and forth.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispers to himself, but it’s loud enough that you can hear him.

-

Back home you two are in limbo. Not really sure what to do with your lives but to sit and try to process. Jiyong let’s the company and the guys know what’s going on and that he’s going to need some time off.

The days bleed together, both of you sleeping at random times, nothing set like it used to be. You walk past her nursery each day and it fills you with dread. Many nights you sit in the room, rocking in the chair with soft music playing in the background. You’d hold your empty womb and cry thinking about her. Jiyong begins to notice the pattern. He wanted to let you grieve, but he hated seeing you torture yourself.

-

The day comes when you visit the funeral home and you must pick out a casket. You find a small light pink casket with a white daisy on top and gold finishing. You graze your fingers on it as Jiyong comes up behind you.

“I like this one,” you whisper, voice hoarse from all the emotion of the day. He nods and kisses your shoulder. He lets the director know. Once plans are officially made Jiyong informs the rest of Big Bang and friends and family of the details.

-

The day arrives sooner than you think, but you honestly couldn’t hardly tell what day it was. You’d discovered that alcohol was a helpful tool to help ease the pain, even if only for a little while.

“Aein,” Jiyong says as he see’s you take a swig of whiskey from the bottle. You’re both dressed in black, him in a nice suit and you in a comfortable dress.

“Don’t,” you put your hand up to stop him.

“Don’t start with me, not today. I can’t today, Jiyong I just can’t,” he can hear the way your voice cracks and he’s rushing to your side.

“Ok, ok,” he takes the bottle gently from your hand.

“Just please be careful,” he breathes as he embraces you. You blink back your tears and look up at your boyfriend, sadness and worry evident in his eyes.

“Stop that,” you say as you wiggle out his grip.

“Stop what,” he asks.

“Stop worrying about me, it’s not permanent,” you say referring to the harsh drinking. You’d been doing it for a few days, very rarely feeling completely sober. Jiyong knows the heartache you’re going through, but he’s nervous the self-medicating will get out of control.

“We should leave,” he says and before he can walk you out to the car, you’re putting a few small wine bottles in your purse. He looks at your nervously before ushering you outside into the spring air.

At the funeral home you see your little girl for the first time since you held her. You walk over to the casket and she slowly comes into view. She’s peaceful looking, its as if she’s only sleeping. You touch her cold body briefly, placing a sweet kiss to her forehead. You sniffle and Jiyong comes up behind you to look at her.

“She looks beautiful, they did really good,” you say in between more sniffles and you wipe your nose on your hand. Jiyong grabs you a tissue.

“God, why did this happen to us,” you ask him quietly.

“I don’t know, jagiya, I don’t know.” His eyes tear up but he quickly blinks them back.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say as you leave his presence. When you find the restroom you quickly lock the door and down the small Moscato in your purse. You shake your head at the taste, it wasn’t the best wine ever but it would help with the pain of the day. You down the next one, and the one after that, and the buzz hits after few minutes. You take a deep breath, fixing yourself up and you walk out to see the boys in the room with Jiyong. They all look back at you and you can see the sympathy etched onto their faces.

You stumble over your feet a little and Jiyong’s face contorts. He walks over to you and takes your hand.

“Are you all right?” his voice is slightly harsh, more so out of conern. He knows what you did and while he wants to be worried, he takes a deep breath when you nod your head yes and walks with you over to everyone.

“We’re really sorry,” Taeyang pulls you into a hug you didn’t realize you needed until you had it. He had a way of making you feel safe in that moment. You melted into the hug and he stayed with you for a moment, letting you absorb his love and condolences. You give a hug to the others and return to your boyfriend’s side.

The funeral passes by in a blur. There are people constantly telling you how sorry they are and trying to comfort you but you weren’t fazed. Half the time you were in your own head, imagining what life would’ve been like without ever having met Jiyong, let alone not being together. Would you have go through all the hell you have the past year and few months? Could you be happy with someone or were you just destined to live a tragic life no matter who it was with?

-

The night after the funeral felt cold and unfamiliar. You and Jiyong were strained, usually losing someone close to you can do one of two things; bring you closer to one another or drive you apart. It seems as of now, you’re driven apart once more. Or at least, you are from him, granted you were from everyone. You both eat dinner that night, a dish someone from the funeral made for you to put in the oven. Life feels numb, like you were in your body going through the motions but you aren’t in control; you’re on auto pilot.

After dinner you go to bed early, laying there staring at the wall for God only knows how long before you feel the bed dip beside you. His arms cautiously try going around you, you wince at the touch, it feels like too much. But you know he needs you too.

You force yourself to stay still, letting him have a moment of comfort. You feel something wet hit the back of your neck and you realize he’s crying.

“Promise me something,” his voice is raspy, barely audible.

“Hmm?”

“Promise me we’ll both get through this together, that we won’t lose each other in this,” his lips ghost over your ear as he whispers the words. You don't respond, only a sigh leaves your lips.

“Please,” he whispers as he hugs you to him. His voice is full of desperation, like he’s begging, "I can't lose you too, y/n."

“I promise,” you choke out. He plants a soft kiss to your neck before the two of you fall asleep.

You wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, panic from a recurring nightmare from the day you were forced to deliver. Jiyong’s arms are still around you, the blankets and his body weight feel suffocating and you start taking deep breaths trying to get as much air into your lungs as possible, but it's not enough. You peel his arms off you, and that’s when you feel the cold sweat, the bed slightly damp from it. You get up out of bed and run straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower. You’re gasping for air as the water turns warm, without even taking your clothes off you step into the water and sit down. The water gradually grounds you, helping you breathe.

Jiyong wakes up, suddenly not feeling your body heat beside him and he feels the damp spot in your bed. He gets up, checking the clock to see that it’s 3:30 in the morning. He gathers the sheets off the bed and takes them to the wash. He hears the shower running and after putting fresh sheets on the bed he peeks his head in.

“Aein?” Your eyes fly open at the sound of his voice. You can't answer, talking feeling too energy consuming.

“Baby?” he slowly pulls the curtain back. His heart is broken at the sight of you. Your clothes are soaked, eyes are red and face puffy.

“I just couldn’t, I had a nightmare, and,” the words are broken, he can barely understand them.

“You want to go back to bed?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“You want to be alone?” You shake your head no. Before you can process anything else he’s right by your side in the running water holding you to him, as you cry.

“I can’t help think about what life would’ve been like if she were here,” you sniffle as your head rests on his shoulder and you feel your empty stomach.

“There’s a reason for everything, jagi,” he whispers as he kisses the top of your head.

“How are you handling this so well?” You gaze up at him, eyes full of vulnerability and confusion.

“I have my own ways, right now I’m here for you,” he cups your cheek, rubbing it soothingly with the pad of his thumb.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask suddenly feeling a little braver than you have before.

“I miss her,” he admits as he casts his gaze to the floor.

“I love her,” he says. You watch him, hair sticking to his face as well as his sleep pants sticking to his body. You both sit there, the feeling of the water hitting your bodies creates a sense of comfort and intimacy for you both, one you weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

"Are you mad at me," the question comes out weak, like a small kid asking their parent. His head whips to look at you.

"Why on earth would I be mad at you?"

"She was my responsibility, I couldn't keep her safe in the safest place in the whole world," you whimper, your bottom lip trembling every so slightly.

"I'm not mad at you, baby. I swear. It's not your fault. You have to believe that. You couldn't of prevented it." He hugs you tighter.

"This isn't your fault. You can't keep blaming yourself, baby girl. This is life. Life is fucked up and it's unfair and it sucks ass but it's life." He tries to comfort you. You sit there silently, feeling a little relieved he doesn't blame you.

“Thank you for sitting with me,” you mumble as you stare at your hands. He brings your face up to his, gently.

“I’m here, for whatever you need.” His words aren’t careless. It’s a vow, one he plans to keep. You give him a light kiss against his lips and you savor the moment.

“Can we go back to bed now?” you ask quietly. He helps you stand up and turns off the water. He helps you undress and you help him, both of you trying to show that you aren’t forgetting the other. You dry each other off, not in a sexual way, but in an intimate way. One that shows love, care and devotion to one another.

You get back in bed, noticing the different sheets. You smile at him and hug him tight, both of you seemingly thriving in each other’s company at this moment.

“I should get those changed over before we go back to sleep.” He mumbles before you let him go. You walk with him, not wanting to be alone just yet.

Back in bed, the two of you are once again tangled in each other’s limbs. Your head in on his chest, and you’re playing with his fingers.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” You peer up at your boyfriend, who can’t take his eyes off the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, do you think you’ll ever do it?” His voice is shy. You sit up on your side and you pull his face to yours so your eyes meet.

“I want to. But I just don’t think now’s the time,” and he nods his head.

“Yeah, no of course not. I just,” he sighs.

“You’ve been thinking about it?” you quirk a brow as you assume what he was going to say. He looks at you and for the first time in days he gives you a small real smile.

“Yeah, I have.”

“What happened to my best friend who said only two years ago he never wanted to get married,” you tease lightly.

“I think it’s safe to say I’m not that person anymore,” his tone is playful and light. You nod.

“I’d agree, I’m not either.” You hand traces his jaw line and he kisses your hand gently.

“I love you,” he whispers with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you more,” you kiss his nose before laying your head down to get some much-needed rest.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

Tags: @loveesiren @pinkpunkdynamite @mashtatosworld @lariem-blog2 @multifanxtvshows @natalicss @kjydrgnnnn

[starryschemer]

Shattered Odds - (Chapter One)

Pairings: Salesman x reader, Gi-hun x reader (More will be added in future chapters) Summary: Gi-hun finds himself in a high-stakes game with not only his life, but the life of someone he cares deeply about. You. Can Gi-hun outsmart the salesman? Or will the odds catch up with him? Warnings: Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Russian Roulette, Mentions of Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Pet Names, Strong Language, Blood & Gore. Next Chapter

Chapter One: The Game Begins Word Count: 1,020

The motel stood off yonder, creepily lit with a pink hue in the middle of nowhere. You were panting for breath as you rushed off towards the entrance; Your legs burned as fear consumed your thoughts.

Gi-hun? Where was he? Was he safe?

All he said to you was that he came to try and get more information about someone, a salesman; he called him. All I knew was that he had been trying to locate the guy for years. Desperate for answers. Desperate to know something about his boss.

All I could gather from what he said was that it was a death game. Gi-hun never elaborated on the exact nature of those games for you; being the kind girl you were in love with, you didn't probe into what happened. You just tried to help him out in whatever way he needed.

As you rush upstairs toward his room, sweat drips down your forehead. Your own ragged breathing is the only sound.

It is silent. Too quiet.

Arriving at his room, you see the door is open. A bad sign.

Afraid the worst is yet to come, you hurry inside.

Indeed, Gi-hun is sitting at a table looking at you stunned.

"What are you doing here? You'd better go Y/N."

Ignoring him, you moved closer. Worried about him, you place your hand on his cheek. "Did you manage to get any more information about him?"

All of a sudden, Gi-hun is looking behind you. His shoulders tensed up, and his lips parted. As you are about to turn around—

CRACK

Something hits you on the head, causing you to fall down. Before you know it, the room begins to spin, forcing you to shut your eyes into darkness. ✸✸✸

Grinning smugly, the salesman looks at Gi-hun, a gun in hand, red blood glistening slightly on it. "Well, talk about a beauty. It's going to be even more interesting than before. Is it not?"

He bends down, putting some of your hair behind your ear, looking at the damage he caused.

"Don't you fucking touch her!"

The salesman merely smirked. "Oh? Did I hit a nerve?" He let out a soft chuckle, standing back up. "Relax, she'll only be a spectator in our little game."

Then, before Gi-hun can say anything at all, the salesman puts a gun to his head while dropping some rope on the ground.

"Tie her up."

Gi-hun clenches his fists until they turn white. Wanting to punch that smirk off his face.

"NOW."

He brings you over to a nearby chair and puts the rope from his feet around your body. His hand trembling as he finishes with the rope, a tear falls from his face. Yes, the only reason to exist for him now is you. He can't afford to lose you. Not yet.

"I'll do anything, just don't hurt her."

The salesman crouched down beside Gi-hun, his breath tickling the edges of Gi-hun's ear.

"You'll do anything? Well, here is my offer; should you fail this game, I'll have fun with her." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark. "I'll bet anything she's a good screamer."

The mere thought of him laying a hand on you makes him flinch.

He wanted to kill him. Rip him apart with his own hands.

But he couldn’t risk it. Not now.

"…Okay," he said, voice hoarse. "I’ll play."

And with that, he sat back in the chair, preparing for whatever twisted nightmare the salesman had in store for him. ✸✸✸

The salesman grinned, satisfied with their compliance. He sat down in the chair opposite him, tapping the gun on his palm a few times.

"Good. I knew you'd do another game."

Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out a phone. With a flick of his thumb, he pressed play on a song.

"Quando sono solo e sogno all'orizzonte e mancano le parole…"

The melody of Time to Say Goodbye drifted through the stale air, the singer’s voice sorrowful and rich, almost mocking and haunting.

Gi-hun's eyes widened; his blood ran cold.

The salesman let out a chuckle, tilting his head as he is savouring the fear struck on Gi-hun's face. He grinned, opening and closing the barrel of the gun in his hand. "Fitting, isn't it? Very poetic." Putting the gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

CLICK

Gi-hun breathes out, feeling a shiver down his spine. Staying silent.

"Have you heard of Russian Roulette?" The salesman glanced up at Gi-hun, who gave a tense nod. "Six chambers. One bullet. Usually after each round, you reset the barrel. But you… are special."

"Cut to the chase."

"We won't reset the chances, meaning in 6 rounds one of us will die. The odds are in your favor… for now." ✸✸✸

Y/N groaned, stirring in the rope restraints. Gi-hun looks over at you worriedly.

The salesman glances at you, amused. "Ah, perfect timing." He walks to you, lightly hitting your cheek. "Rise and shine, darling."

You blink, looking at your surroundings. Your eyes land on Gi-hun, panic flashing across his face.

"Gi-hun?" you say timidly.

He forced a weak smile. "I’m here."

Then, your gaze snapped to the salesman. And then—to the gun in his grip.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" you scream, struggling to get free from the restraints. Your wrists burn as you fought against the rope.

The salesman chuckles. "Well aren't you a fiesty thing. I like that." He lightly touches your cheek, causing you to flinch.

"Nothing personal, sweetheart. You aren't playing this game." For a moment his voice is almost gentle, however there is a gleam of something dark in his eyes. He turns to Gi-hun smirking. "Though, I can see why you are so attached to her. She's…. very entertaining."

"LET ME GO."

The salesman clicked his tongue before a finger is placed on your lips.

"You are awfully loud; carry this on, and I will have to tape that pretty little mouth of yours shut. Understand?"

Tears go down your face while you nod.

He grins. "Good girl." Pulling his finger back.

He sits down, facing Gi-hun. "Let's begin."

✸✸✸ A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr. Well, really writing fanfics in a few years. I am having a bit of a Squid Game addiction, so I thought I would give it a go. I hope you enjoyed my writing. Feel free to send requests or any thoughts my way. Feel free to comment to be added to the taglist for this series.

[petals2fish]

Happy birthday to my angel princess gorgeous bestie @victoria8719 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 your birthday fic is coming, but I love it so much it’s turned into a multi chapter.

Here’s a sneak peek:

In Sickness and In Health:

"You marry me," James said with a mischievous grin, "and I'll hand over the money for that potion right now."

Lily raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I'm pretty sure that might be illegal, James."

He waved a hand dismissively, the twinkle in his eyes never fading. "It’s not illegal.”

“Besides, you don’t want to marry me. I come with plenty of baggage." Lily chuckled, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t quite disappear.

"Lily," he said with a snort, "I think I’ve got my own fair share of baggage."

"Touché," she replied, reluctantly amused. "But seriously, what do you even get out of this?"

James leaned back in his chair, the grin never leaving his face. "I get a wife who doesn’t care if all I want to do is play Quidditch all day, and I get to avoid marrying Amalie Greengrass."

Lily blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Amalie Greengrass? You mean the Amalie Greengrass? The Head Girl last year?"

"Yeah, she just graduated from Hogwarts," James replied, trying to mask his growing irritation, though the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "My parents think she'd be a good match for me."

"But—James!" Lily's eyes went wide in disbelief. "She was one of our students?"

James shrugged casually, taking another gulp from his firewhisky bottle. "Pureblood families don’t care much about age gaps. My dad’s ten years older than my mum."

Lily grimaced. "That’s insane."

"They’re perfect for each other, though," James said, his tone softening slightly. "It’s rare, sure, but they met later in life, and it worked for them."

Lily shook her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "Still crazy."

James chuckled, unfazed. "Okay, hear me out. You marry me, and you get access to my vault in Gringotts. You wouldn’t have to act like my wife unless we’re with my parents. We’d just be friends, and I’d help you with whatever you need."

Lily stared at him, her mind racing. This was absurd. But, weirdly, there was something tempting about the simplicity of his offer. James wasn’t looking for a fairy tale. He was offering something practical—an arrangement where they both got what they wanted, without the usual complications.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don’t think you’ve thought this through, James."

His grin only grew wider, as if he was already ten steps ahead. "Come on, Lily. Think about it. You need a potion, I need a way out, and we both need a bit of chaos. What’s the harm?"

Lily narrowed her eyes, still skeptical but undeniably entertained. "You’re either brilliant or completely mad."

James raised his glass in a mock toast. "Oh, definitely brilliant."

She snorted, fighting the urge to admit just how much she was considering the whole absurd idea. "What about work?"

James shrugged nonchalantly. "What about it?"

"Uh, remember our onboarding meeting last year?" Lily asked. "Minnie made it clear that she’s strict about Professors not being in relationships with each other."

"That’s fine," he said, "it’s not like we’ll be anything different than we are now. You keep your last name, keep whatever you want. I’m just giving you access to my vault so you can afford the potion you need to stay healthy."

[lokavisi]

Holy shit, I haven't told y'all about my seidr class.

This past Saturday was the last of 4 Saturdays in which I attended my friends' first ever time teaching the oracular seidr ritual that they recently developed. (It was adapted from the most common modern form of the ritual, which was developed by Paxson's group, but rooted much more firmly in the lore and sagas and our current understanding of archeological finds from Germanic/Scandinavian Europe.)

First of all, they built a phenomenal ritual. Everyone felt safe from start to finish every time we ran it. The entire group was so supportive of each other. No one was afraid to ask questions and my friends teaching were incredibly open to feedback and suggestions on how to better teach and prepare future students for the ritual. It was a wonderful teaching/learning environment, and what we were learning and practicing was so amazing to witness.

What I really want to talk about, though, was my time in the seer's chair. I have done many trance journeys in my practice and have intuited/channeled many messages from spirit, but this was a whole new level. And I will say, having had so much practice with those things really helped. My friends teaching said of all the people that sat in the seer's chair, I had the most solid energy. Since we were all newbies to the ritual practice, they did a little extra energy work to help bolster those of us who were struggling a bit throughout each run of the ritual. They said they didn't have to do shit for me, which honestly made me feel over the moon. It was so validating, like that seat is where I'm meant to be. So much of my practice had led me to that chair and it was such an honor to sit there even just one time.

The classes were done at the UU church I'm a part of. So much CUUPS (UU Pagan) programming happens on that property. The land spirits there are so familiar with us. There is a gorgeous willow tree near the edge of the property. While I was in the seat, one of my classmates asked if "Sister Willow" had a name she preferred to go by and how we can honor her. I felt a warm joy from her at the use of "sister" and felt her pulling me in for a hug. (The following day I was at the church doing pagan programming for kids. Only one kid, whose mom was helping me, showed up, but we took water to Sister Willow and gave her hugs. The utter joy I felt in my heart weighed on my chest in the most beautiful way as I hugged her, as if I was hugging a warm body. It was beautiful.)

Another classmate asked if the land spirits on their personal property had anything they wanted to them to do for them. I saw a chicken wire fence with a section that looked like a white picket fence, a suggestion to upgrade the boundary. It was a little playfully sassy which was fun to relay. The classmate told me later that they had received a message to erect a fence, and the chicken wire was the best they could do at the time, so the hint to maybe make the fence a little more solid sounded about right to them.

The last question I took was from someone asking if one of their Jewish ancestors had any advice about doing their work during these particular times. I will keep their personal information private, but what was kind of funny was the ancestor suggested they, a pagan, talk to Yahweh for some answers. To which the querant replied, "Well, I did say 'Jewish ancestor'." This ancestor was a delight, though. He had such bright blue eyes and huge smile across his face the entire time.

For as long as I can remember, even as a Christian, I have wanted to help people connect with spirit in some way. Doing the work of seership feels like such a natural extension of that, and just this one experience in the chair felt like such an honor. I spent some time talking with Loki about it afterwards. They said they were so proud of me, and that they and every other spirit (deity, land spirit, or ancestor) were incredibly appreciative of me for being willing and able to do that work for them. It honestly made me cry. I so deeply love doing this kind of work. And I low key (heh) wish I could sustain myself by doing it because I would do nothing else if I could. I'm so grateful to every person that has ever asked me to give them readings or messages, and every benevolent spirit that has asked me to give them a voice here in Midgard. I am grateful, I am grateful, I am grateful. I don't share any of this to brag about my gifts or make anyone feel lesser in comparison. I just wanted to share the utter joy I feel from having this experience.