#she's got this whole doctor thing down!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

donna "it was never that far from the surface mate" noble not having a worry in the world leaving 14 and yaz alone in the living room at night to finish their movie while she goes to bed entirely unaware of the tragic lesbian romance of the century that those two concluded about an hour before donna re-met the doctor

[irhabiya]

today sucked the life out of me ya Allah

[divinekangaroo]

Kid’s always been into musicals and 1920s-1950s type movies, so we’ve started watching Star Trek Original Series and he’s enraptured

that difference in pace, focus, concentration on people not action, etc

[quillvice]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[kath-artic]

thank god for crazy women 🙏

[ourceliumnetwork]

yeah guys idk I'm just thinking maybe the lightheadedness and desire to sit down about halfway through putting away groceries my whole life might not have just been a reaction to the way my parents were when i was a kid and the accompanying anxiety and sudden flurry of movement, but also possibly maybe i have a Health Thing about this...

[quietwingsinthesky]

i have many many thoughts about rose & tentoo and how their relationship would evolve in this verse. about how you can't just take the love you have for one person and put it on someone else. not even a clone, a regeneration, a metacrisis. about how that doesn't mean you can't love them, or that you can't fall in love with them the same way, but that love has to be for them.

[andromedasummer]

finished my crochet cup holder and sewed up lunas ears, head and sewed them together and have started on crocheting a cactus which is pretty damn good considering i spent nearly all of saturday sleeping to recover from work and the family emergency happening rn

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

[high key unpopular opinion, low key snob moment incoming] honestly discourses about whether or not a plot is good because it plays into "normal vs special" tropes are so tiring to me,in such a particular like ... Death Of Art kind of way tbh.

i think bc it's like. it's not based on anything real. and to me, art*/stories are only ever affecting if it says truthful things about life. about real things. chosen ones are not a real thing. tbh to me it's just brainrot from superhero genre / vacuous shonen manga. irl being "a chosen one" is not a thing. it's entirely a pop culture fabrication*.

saying "the timeless child is bad because it makes the doctor a chosen one!!!" it's just nonsense. there's nothing in the episode that suggests anything the doctor did after being brainwashed by division was out of "predetermination" from a higher power. but people have brainwashed themselves from empty ~geek culture~ so much that these days is literally only made to sell toys / collectibles, that's the only framework they have for understanding stories. through comparing it to other stories with the same tired, trite tropes. *abstract art notwithstanding. **well, unless you live in a monarchy, i guess.

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ WELCOME HOME, CALEB 𝗩𝗛𝗦

‘ zayne x fem!reader x caleb ’ love and deepspace

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ — based off Caleb’s first scenes but with the current reunion◞ double penetration◞ thigh fucking◞ cunilingus◞ fingering ◞ squirting ◞ kitchen sex ◞ blowjobs ◞ creampie◞ tips touching◞ three way kisses◞ there is a little tension between Caleb and Zayne◞ and Caleb is a tease / sarcastic but not mean◞ w plot !

“let’s invite Zayne over for dinner”

you still remember that day clearly, when things were perfect, having shared a yummy lunch with Caleb and Grandma before everything went crashing down.

who could have through that lingering promise would have turned into a “let’s invite Caleb for dinner” instead.

surprised was not even the correct word to express how you felt upon reuniting with Caleb once again, shock, confusion, happiness, all emotions previously bottled up now bursting as you ran to embrace the man you had missed deeply.

“Zayne will be running a little late” you explain to Caleb who is currently standing next to you while helping chop a few vegetables, giving some extra attention to the carrots, “there was an emergency at the hospital”

Caleb couldn’t care less, to be honest, hiding the fact that he would very much rather spend the whole day with you alone, but alas, some time before the black haired man arrived was also welcomed.

“oh, really?” he hums, grabbing yet another carrot to chop, nonchalantly with a slight hint of a smile on his face, “it’s a pity, he works too much, doesn’t he? he’s probably getting wrinkly already” his words are so filled with amusement, like an inner joke he is not willing to share.

“don’t tease him” you scold him gently, “but yes, Zayne is often overworked, he never listens when I ask him to take breaks”

“he is a girls repellent, they don’t like workaholics” Caleb starts, almost as if he was testing the waters while you turned to wash a few used utensils so couldn’t see his eyes following you to gauge your reaction, “girls like attentive guys…, guys who can cook…, don’t you think” was he… praising himself?

“well—” Caleb scoffs a little loud, a sound you would have heard if it weren’t because the door suddenly was pushed open and Zayne walked in, with a bag in his hand and sliding his glasses into the shirt pocket with the other.

“oh, Caleb, it’s good to see you again” the doctor’s tone is as flat as you expected, yet he still approaches to greet the other man whose only thoughts are why did Zayne had the code to your apartment, why is Zayne so comfortable in your house, why is Zayne placing his hand on your waist while walking past you.

Caleb is not liking this at all.

“yeah” the smile gets back in place with a hint of annoyance that lasts a second, “good to see you too, Zayne”

the latter’s attention shifting to you almost immediately, now there is a soft smile while leaning next to you to check what’s in the oven, then the bag he was carrying is left on the counter, “i got some—”

“macaroons” Caleb chimes in with that smirk that borderlines on bickering, “i’m not surprised”

Zayne’s eyes lay on the other man, looking a tad bored even, then down on the counter with an almost imperceptible raise of a brow, “and you are still obsessed with carrots, i’m not surprised either”

“she loves them” Caleb motions to you while his eyes lock on Zayne’s

“i can’t—”

“she likes macaroons better”

“that’s you, actually—” you get to whisper under your breath, the atmosphere thick with unexpected tension.

“we grew up together” Caleb retorts, “i know her better”

“i also grew up with her”

“but not as long as me”

“are you sure about that?”

“stop!” you finally raise your voice and both of them turn to look at you with expressions softening like puppies who just got scolded, “why are you fighting? this was supposed to be a nice dinner” your voice lowers with a sigh as you lean over the counter with both hands on the surface.

Zayne is the first to speak, resting a hand on your lower back, “i’m sorry”

and Caleb joins, saying your name very gently while bringing a hand to cup your nape, “i’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to ruin things” then he plants a kiss on the top of your head, to which Zayne replicated with a kiss on your shoulder, their affection making you shiver slightly.

but you don’t reply yet, having a hint of a pout on your mouth that both men find absolutely adorable, starting to leave more kisses across your skin, Zayne trailing up your neck to your ear while Caleb went down to kiss your neck and collarbones, unable to stop the soft whines that left your lips. and they continue, taking the cute little sounds you make as encouragement, “so cute” Caleb murmurs, with a hand coming to squeeze your waist and rub under your shirt with a thumb.

Zayne on the other hand, trails his hand up and down your back, settling on top of your butt and gently tugging you closer to the both of them.

“I didn't mean to upset you” is Zayne who speaks first, lowering his head to take a better look into your face and slowly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

which Caleb takes as a challenge, mimicking the other man to stare into your eyes with a smile, “come on, pipsqueak, forgive me” then presses a kiss on your lips, a chaste one that leaves you slightly surprised, unable to properly understand what just happened before Zayne repeats the act, the frown on his face almost imperceptible because of the way they’re constantly kissing you without giving you a moment to think.

until both crash and you are left utterly speechless when they both kiss you, with hands on your hips and waist, tongues sticking out to meet the other two in what you can just catalogue as the lewdest kiss you’ve ever gotten, unsure of whether of it’s Zayne or Caleb whose hands grope your ass, whose the one sliding a hand under your shirt until it comes to lay under your boob and you moan against their eager mouths.

the kiss does not stop, it’s so messy, with saliva, tongues and teeth, muffled groans of delight solely from kissing your soft lips.

“you taste delicious” Caleb parts with a pant, as if he has just ran a marathon and would do it again, all while Zayne takes the opportunity to kiss you himself, still without much words, yet cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head back and devour your mouth, sloppily and uncharacteristically messy for a doctor of his level.

kisses get peppered on your neck next, lower and lower while your other best friend starts to slowly open your blouse buttons, his tongue leaving a burning trail that soon cools against the air from where his saliva touches the skin of your chest, down the valley of your tits. his hands being too skilled and Zayne’s kiss leaving you breathless that your lust filled brain barely registers the other man’s hands undoing your bra, too impatient to even take it off so he just pushes the soft fabric up and attaches his lips to a nipple, sucking eagerly and barely nibbling on the sensitive flesh, sending waves of slick down your already drenched panties.

“ah, fuck—” you moan against Zayne’s mouth, who eagerly receives the sound with a low growl of his own, slow and very gently sliding the hand —you now realize was Zayne’s all along— down the curve of your ass and under the skirt, barely teasing the crotch of your panties with a single finger that dips in between your folds through the flimsy fabric.

moans only grow, getting a little choked with how dizzy both of them made you feel.

Caleb’s lips are so eager, so soft and warm, leaving each nipple utterly sensitive and coated in saliva as he moaned against your skin, unconsciously helping Zayne keep your skirt up around your waist as he slowly knelt in between your legs, nose bumping against Zayne’s fingers and your lower lips that were so visible through the soaked panties, “fuck, love… you smell divine” his voice so deep and makes your knees buck, and forces Zayne to finally release your mouth with a gasp as his green eyes flickered to the sight of Caleb between your legs, eagerly tugging down on your panties until the fell on the cold ground with a soft ‘splat’ due to how wet they were.

you whimper at the coldness, which gets quickly replaced by Caleb’s lips attaching to your clitoris, sucking the engorged nub, “C-Caleb! a-ah yes” your cries are heavenly for both men, who can feel their cocks getting even harder at your sounds, smell, and they way your cute body shook.

Zayne is quick to help, latching his lips to your earlobe and nibbling, making sure to wrap an arm around your waist to keep your body upright as his finger found your empty and fluttering hole, “so wet, so pretty” his voice is deep, caressing your ear like his fingertips does with your hole before dipping inside, “and so tight…”

“Zayne!” you mewl, now, holding onto Caleb’s hair with a hand and Zayne’s wrist with the other, a few seconds away from letting out a sob bubble out your throat.

“good?” and you nod, gasping at each delicious thrust and curling motion of the fingers inside your gushing cunt that squelched vulgarly, alongside the sounds of the man between your legs, slurping and sucking on your clit and folds as his life depends on it, occasionally brushing against the other man’s fingers which makes him groan.

there is slick dribbling down your legs, which Caleb eagerly laps up with a low, murmured, “fucking delicious” before his lips are on you again, there’s a cacophony of sounds, to which the sound of belts soon join and a muffled growl against your folds, before you can hear a soft ‘shlick’, fluttering your eyes open to be greeted with the sigh of Caleb between your legs and his arm moving desperately between his own.

“can I…” Zayne breaks your line of thought, pressing a kiss on your nape and the tip of his now bare and drenched cock rubs against the back of your thigh, immediately understanding what he was asking for and you nod.

Caleb stands finally, with lips coated in slick, aggressively fisting his own fat and veiny cock that already leaks precum before he is kissing you now, sharing the taste of your juices and a hand tight on the hair in the back of your head to keep your head still.

“you taste so good” Caleb mumbles with what you can just explain as a drunk hazed smirk, and you’re no far from it, with half lidded eyes, moaning wantonly while a little line of saliva dribbles down your cheek at Zayne’s two fingers abusing your cunt, managing to hit the delicious spongy spot that had your hole gushing waves after waves of slick all over his hand and a bit on the floor.

your hands land on Caleb’s shoulders, tugging for another kiss at the same time Zayne’s thick cock slides between your legs, keeping them squished for a better grip.

“stay like that” he murmurs so low and dark that you, once again, get impossibly wetter, soaking his cock that’s perfectly nestled between your folds and bumping on your clit with each thrust.

it really is flattering how both of them get whipped by you so easily, with Zayne moving faster and faster until your body gets also rocked back and forth, and his cockhead brushes against Caleb’s in front of you, making them both moan and you whine at the sound, throwing your hips back to get a little more friction, “m-more, please, I need to cum” you almost beg, and a hand lands on your clit, offering to rub you through an orgasm but you refuse, “no, i— ah!”

Caleb cups your face with a hand, a little tighter than necessary but his dark and blown pupils stare at you, “what do you need?”

Zayne stops too, rubbing on your lower abdomen so sweetly, “your cock” you murmur and precum dribbles down your thigh.

“whose?”

“both…” you barely murmur, letting another moan leave with how tight Zayne’s hands get on your hips.

“are you sure?”

“yeah… maybe… one at first?”

and they both agree, now Caleb sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs spread and your eager and warm mouth wrapped around his long cock that fills every inch of your mouth, veins pulsing in a warning of an imminent orgasm that he forces to stay down until he has a taste of that sweet cunt too.

“oh, darling, oh fuck” you never could have expected for Zayne to be so vocal, moaning against your neck while he basically humps your pussy with tiny thrusts that keep him deep, but they are so aggressive, so needy that you get pushed further against Caleb’s cock lodged down your throat, and a few tears fill your eyes at the stretch.

“ah, yeah, shit…” is the latter who moans now, grabbing a fistful of hair and keeping your mouth still, drooling all over his pelvis, “i need to fuck your cunt now, Zayne move over”

there is a little grumble from Zayne but he obeys, pulling you back against his chest that is now just covered by a shirt, you gasp and pant at the amounts of air that fill your lungs, allowing for Caleb to stand up in front of you, he was completely naked unlike Zayne and you who just had a skirt and socks on right now.

they tilt your head at the same time, lips crashing like minutes ago, making you so dizzy that you can barely register how they both lift you up, having you squished in the middle, thighs spread wide and swinging over their big arms.

“c-careful” you murmur through the mess of tongues upon feeling another cock poke on your clitoris, teasing the slick soaked skin and down your full and overly stretched hole that pulses around Zayne.

“i’ll be gentle” Caleb smirks, prodding against your abused pussy and slowly but steadily getting inside, the three moan simultaneously, the stretch too wide but still as inhumanly good, the feeling of their cocks rubbing together was sending shivers down their spines but none of the men was willing to say it out loud, barely nibbling on their bottom lip to keep the sounds down.

“so… tight” Zayne murmurs with open mouthed pants against your nape.

“you feel… ah… so amazing… what a heavenly pussy” Caleb comments next, keeping your thighs wide so his balls finally press flush against Zayne’s and your needy cunt.

“y-eah…! s’ full” your words are slurred, eyes crossing already and barely having time to think before they are moving and tossing you around, too pussy drunk to stop as they use you like a rag doll, up and down, sometimes in circles that has your toes curling and chest glistening with sweat and saliva that leaves your mouth wide open, almost dumb.

they groan unabashedly, muttering praises to your gorgeous cunt for sucking on their cocks so good, like a damn fuckin’ vice, refusing to let them go even if your brain shuts down, “s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good, feel funny…”

they have never seen a sight so pretty, your eyes crossed and filled with tears, tits jiggling and nipples hard in blissful pleasure.

there are a few jets of liquid gushing from your pussy, too stupid to even realize you’ve been cumming on their cocks already, they’re tiny but makes both of them groan when louder, hips snapping brutal and vulgarly against your over sensitive and used pussy, that keeps cumming nonstop.

Zayne has a hand on your pelvis, barely above your pussy, pushing in the skin to keep you flush and somehow feeling the movements of your insides being fucked by their fat cocks, making you squeeze them tighter.

“i’m going to cum” Caleb mutters with a hoarse tone, his forehead is covered in sweat and his head low, jaw slacked to let out those pleasure sounds, “can’t last longer, this pussy is too good”

Zayne does not want to admit how embarrassingly close he is as well, gritting his teeth while his hips snap a bit harder, making his flesh slap against your ass that’s sore by this point.

two, three more minutes and they fill you to the brim, tips pushing into that spot that is just so deep and you come crashing with a scream, soaking their lengths and balls with squirt while they both fill your womb with semen, so thick and so much you feel like throwing up.

no one speaks for what feels like hours, trembling in the middle of the kitchen floor, until Caleb speaks, “i hope… we can do this dinner again” his voice is low against your neck, and soon the smell of burnt food fills the air.

i’ve been wanting to write for them since so long so if its ooc I apologize ajsgshs

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment

warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology

a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!

wc: 1.9k

“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.

you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.

you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.

he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.

“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.

“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.

flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.

rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.

rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”

you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.

“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.

"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"

you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.

the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.

the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.

“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.

“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.

“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.

you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.

you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.

“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”

[cherienymphe]

The Ghost of Harding Manor

Friedrich Harding x Reader

Summary: Your marriage is haunted by the ghost of the wife who came before you, and the walls of Harding Manor bear witness to your husband's descent into madness.

warnings: Dub-Con, loss of virginity, obsession, unsure if stalking counts if it takes place in your own home, implied chronically ill!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

♱

You were not Anna.

You were reminded every day from the moment you wed Friedrich Harding and became his missus that you were not Anna. Anna who was perfect and said the right things and walked the right way and was a walking temptation to the man she called her husband. Anna who—even in death—called to Friedrich from beyond and was nearly successful if it were not for strong hands and strong voices keeping the dark-haired man from throwing himself into her coffin with her. Anna who was well on her way to giving your husband a third child.

Anna whose touch still lingered in this home and along these walls and in the long dead flowers that Friedrich refused to throw out.

Anna who haunted you much more than she haunted your new husband.

Illness had not just taken the angelic beauty, but her three children with her, one never even getting the chance to take his first breath. In your solitude, you sometimes thought that you did not know what was worse—their two daughters remaining and forcing you to fill the void the other woman left in multiple lives…or your life as it were as you were forced to give Friedrich a whole new family and reason for existing.

You knew from the moment you became betrothed that you had a heavy vacancy to fill…but it seemed that Friedrich had no intention of you filling it.

“He does not touch me, mother.”

The words were whispered in the quiet home one day, and you looked around, ignoring the feel of the older woman’s gaze in favor of imagining what this house must have been like before the tragedy. You imagined how loud it must have been with two animated little girls running around. You imagined how good Friedrich must have been with them, and thoughts of Anna welcoming him home with a kiss and her arms full made your heart sink.

You were not her.

The advice of your mother went into one ear and out the other. You had long accepted that you were a poor replacement that Friedrich could hardly stand to look at. You were alone on your wedding night and again the night after that and the night after that. You were always alone, and the few glimpses that you got of your husband since the wedding day only proved fruitful in your gazes meeting for a stolen moment…and then he was gone again.

You were always alone, and he was always gone…

Until the morning you would not rise from your bed.

The fever struck you in the night, and by the time morning came you felt weighed down by sand. Any strength you had was used to keep your breathing as even as possible, unable to even muster an attempt to open your eyes and tell your cold husband that you were well. Conversations swirled around your head for what felt like days, and in between the feverish dreams, you caught diagnoses and assurances here and there.

“It is merely a cold,” the doctor told Friedrich. “Her body is fighting it quite well, and she will be like new in a matter of days.”

You recalled agreeing with the assessment, feeling more fatigued than anything else—you’d always been rather sickly—but your peace had been broken for the first time in months. The voice of your husband had reached your ears—so broken and angry and unlike anything you had experienced with him.

“...and how exactly did this come about? She never even leaves the house, for God’s sake.”

You heard the rustle of fabric and heavy steps and an even heavier sigh.

“In a matter of a night, my wife has taken ill, and I am assured that she will recover in no time, but I have heard that before…” his voice shook. “I will not bury another wife—I cannot!”

It all seemed so unlike him, and so you convinced yourself that you merely dreamt it up. The fever was clouding your mind and making you conjure up your innermost desires, namely Friedrich caring for you for more than just a societal duty to bear sons that would carry on his name. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness and dream some more.

A masculine hand in yours, a finger tracing patterns into your stomach through the fabric of the bedding, soft lips brushing along your fingers and facial hair tickling your flesh. Your mind conjured up all sorts of things that simply could not be true, and yet when you fully opened your eyes for the first time in days, you were not alone.

It was not easy to place the look upon Friedrich’s face as he stared down at you, towering over your bed with a smoke in hand and dark circles beneath his eyes. He did not look well himself, and you could not help running your eyes over him, wondering just how much sleep he had gotten this past week. The room was quiet as you two just stared at each other, and just as you parted your lips to inquire about his own health, he was abruptly turning away from you. His voice rang throughout the house as he demanded someone send for the doctor.

It was only hours later that it was professionally confirmed that you were almost as good as new and would probably only have to put up with a light cough for the next day or two. Hearing those words relieved you, and when you looked up at your husband, you could not tell if he shared your relief. You frowned up at him as the doctor poked and prodded at you, wondering, for the first time, just what the dark-haired young man was thinking.

He only stared back.

In fact, he only ever stared these days.

When you were walking through the silent house much like the ghost that haunted your marriage, you could feel the heavy weight of his stare pressing down on you. It was not easy to ignore—nor did you want to—but whenever you turned, no husband was there to meet your gaze. The only sign of his presence was the flutter of a broad shadow passing along the walls. He was much bolder when you found your nose buried in a book, and oftentimes when you lifted your gaze to catch him, he did not shy away.

“Yes?” you would wonder, voice quiet as both uncertainty and unease filled you.

Sometimes he did not answer, merely content to gaze at you, and other times he took his time in responding. He would exhale smoke and it would billow between you, briefly obscuring his features before he swiped his tongue between his lips.

“Supper will be ready within the hour.”

You would nod, and he would make no move to leave, and you would be forced to turn your eyes back to the pages before you…resolving to ignore the silent presence in the doorway that was your husband. You found yourself doing that a lot—resolving to ignore his presence. Otherwise, you would never get anything done.

His gaze clung to you when you ate, the dinner table silent outside of the sound of food and utensils hitting dishes. When your eyes would meet, you would send him a small smile, thinking to yourself that your marriage was just progressing slower than most, but he never returned it. He never smiled at you, only preferring to stare. When you ate, when you read, when you found yourself outside amongst the flowers…even when you slept.

You had never once shared a bed, so it was startling to answer a knock on your door one night, coming face to face with your other half. Your nightdress kissed your feet, and the sleeves tickled your hand, and despite that, Friedrich gazed at you as if you were standing naked before him.

“I only wish to make sure you are well throughout the night.”

You did not know how you felt both relief and disappointment, but you managed.

It took you some time to respond, nodding with a small ‘of course’. You still let out a cough here and there, and you did not miss the way Friedrich’s head would abruptly turn with every heave of your chest. Your marriage may have been cold and strange, but it was obvious that your husband had grown paranoid with the fear of burying a wife for a second time. You imagined that it would not reflect well on him.

…and so you laid beside him and closed your eyes and even in the cover of darkness…

You could feel his gaze.

It unsettled you, and you had half a mind to seek the advice of your mother the next time your parents came for a visit, but she—ever zestful and bold—completely took hold of your train of thought.

“...and when might I expect a grandchild?”

There was a teasing smile on her lips as she regarded you, and you merely sighed before taking a sip of your tea.

“You know my situation, mother,” you murmured, setting your cup aside.

Father was with Friedrich, and you hoped that he was enjoying his company much more than he seemed to his daughter.

“Yes, but that was months ago, and I can tell that things have shifted.”

At that, you frowned, turning to face her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Your marriage was just as cold as it was in the beginning, only now a strange voyeuristic atmosphere had descended over it. Your husband had gone from ignoring your very presence to shadowing your every footstep in the house. Her light chuckle made you flinch, and she gazed at you as if you were playing some joke on her.

“Darling,” she took a sip of the warm drink. “I saw the way he was looking at you when you welcomed us through those doors.”

Your frown deepened.

“That is the gaze of a man fighting with all of his might to resist his beloved wife.”

Now it was your turn to think she was playing a jest with you, but you had no more time to linger on that for the voices of your father and husband soon filled the house as they made their way inside. You could only swallow as mother stood to welcome father back, slowly rising as your own husband neared you. When you traced his face with your eyes, you noticed the ease upon it, and you felt relieved to see that he and your father got on well. He looked like any normal man alight with the mirth that came from being in the company of other like minded men, and so you disregarded your mother’s words.

As you stepped past him to approach your father, your back felt aflame with the heat of a familiar gaze.

You saw them out and wished them safe travels and your father placed his hand on your cheek before he went, speaking good health over you. While he may have been used to your sickly nature, any instance that required bed confinement for his daughter always worried him. He wanted to leave with the trust that you would be well looked after…and well looked after you were.

“Your father was very transparent with me about your health.”

Friedrich towered over you as you sat at the table, having been unsure where this conversation was heading when he interrupted supper. A small container was in his large hand, and when your gaze lifted from the bottle to his eyes, you swore that you saw him falter, his words momentarily stuck in his throat.

He placed the bottle down before you, his hand remaining on the table, and the scent of him filled your nose.

“I have gotten the doctor to make a tonic for you. You are to take a few drops with your meal once a week… It will keep your strength and health up.”

He only moved again to open it, and despite the fact that you felt it was hardly necessary—having survived so long without it—one look into the eyes of your husband told you that not only could it not hurt, but for his peace of mind, you needed to do this. You two gazed at one another as he held it in his hand, and after some time, you realized what he wanted. Parting your lips for him, you swallowed down the few drops he administered to you, but even after you swallowed the herbal mixture down…Friedrich continued to stand over you.

It was in this moment that you finally started to voice your thoughts, asking him why he stared at you so when his movements completely stumped you.

His thumb found the corner of your mouth, startling you, and it remained there for some time before he brought it to his lips, tasting whatever had been lingering there. His blue eyes—normally so cold and unreadable in your presence—suddenly glinted with a look you could not place. It happened so fast that you would have missed it, but you did not, and the intensity there was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Friedrich parted from you as if nothing had happened, and you watched him round the table to take his place across from you once again. It took you some time to pick up your utensils again, rejoining him in eating your supper, and now it was your turn to stare at him…unable to forget that shadowy something that passed through those blue eyes.

He was staring again.

The wind howled outside of the window with the storm and flashes of lightning lit up the otherwise dark room from time to time and your chest and shoulders moved evenly as you feigned sleep. You stared at the wall before you, and Friedrich stared at you. If at all possible, he grew more shameless with it, and if you were a normal loving couple just so wrapped up in each other—as you were sure he was with Anna—then some part of you might have found it romantic.

Tantalizing even.

As it were, you were not, and as silly as it seemed…you felt hunted in your own house.

You constantly felt like prey under his ever watchful eye no matter how justified he made it seem. Concern for your health, making sure no food disagreed with you, seeing how fair you slept. The paranoia of losing another wife suffocated you both for different reasons and in different ways, and you felt as if you were moments away from choking. Your mother’s voice crawled through your mind, and words that you had once dismissed now rang through your thoughts like a melody.

The room glowed with another flash of lightning…and you felt the gentle feel of fingers on the side of your face. You sharply inhaled, startled from both the sudden touch and the foreignness of it. His hand rested on your hair, ensuring that he could gaze upon your face no doubt, and when you felt the bed jostle, you closed your eyes. His lips found your tresses, and his hand found your shoulder, and you both heard and felt him breathe you in.

Friedrich’s nose traced the curve of your ear and he descended until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Despite all of this, your heart remained steady, and you remained still as he gently pressed his lips to your skin and traced patterns through your sleeve. You felt his larger frame shifting closer, and at that—at the feel of him pressed so closely to you to where you could feel every curve and ridge of him—you shuddered.

Yet you still feigned sleep.

“You will never be her,” the words he murmured into your skin had your brows furrowing. “...and I will never let you.”

Contradictory to the words that left his lips, the hand on your arm found its way to your waist, his arm completely circling you and holding you to him. That was how he remained throughout the night, and only when you accepted the permanence of his position, did you finally allow yourself to find sleep.

It was dreamless, and when you woke up, you woke up alone.

You chose to ignore the relief that filled you at that discovery, telling yourself that Friedrich was still grieving. It was an easy answer to his behavior and treatment of you, and yet, you wondered how much longer you had to endure it. You wondered how much longer you would feel watched and shadowed in your own house.

At breakfast, you parted your lips for Friedrich as he gave you a few drops of the tonic, and he watched you eat, and you pretended not to notice. For some time that is. Finally, after a while, you placed your utensils down, and you lifted your gaze to meet his head on. Ever bold, he did not look away, those blue eyes momentarily making you lose your train of thought.

“Why do you stare at me so?”

You finally voiced your concerns with him, and you watched the mustache twitch from the movements of his mouth at your sudden and brazen question. Friedrich looked as if he had never anticipated you asking that of him, but eventually he straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he studied your face.

“I am afraid you will slip away.”

His answer made you blink, eyes widening slightly.

“I fear…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “...like my Anna, you will slip from my grasp.”

Your lips parted at the unexpected answer, and you were unsure of how to respond. Friedrich took a deep breath before digging into his own breakfast, those blue eyes finally refusing to meet yours.

“I will not allow you to become her…lost to me too.”

It was in that moment that you realized you completely misconstrued his words from the previous night, and you stared at the man before you who was so desperate and driven to uncomfortable lengths to ensure he did not bury another wife. Some part of you felt awful for feeling so put off by his uncanny behavior…but some other part of you recognized that your husband was slowly being pushed to madness.

If he were not so already.

“She vexes me so…”

Those were the words you overheard a week later, your house hosting a small handful of people that Friedrich knew. The wives took to you well despite your quiet disposition, and when they proposed an evening walk along the beach, you went in search of your husband to inform him. When you found him, he was in the company of three other men, the smell of tobacco reached you first and then his words followed.

You froze the moment you realized it was you he was referring to.

“She is so quiet and frail…like a mouse” there were a few chuckles. “...and I so desire to hear her squeak.”

You felt yourself take a step back.

“...but it is because she is so fragile that I cannot bring myself to touch her…” you heard Friedrich inhale. “I fear I would ravage her.”

How was it possible for his words to both terrify and entice you? It was a relief to know that your husband did not balk at the sight of you as you once thought, but you did not hold the same sentiment in confirming you were indeed being hunted in your own house. Friedrich had made no moves to warm you to him and progress this marriage in a way that a normal man would. After all these months, he was still little more than a stranger to you.

A stranger that was increasingly losing himself more and more at the thought of ever losing you.

“...but Friedrich we only just got here.”

You looked to him with a slight frown, the ocean breeze a soothing feeling against your skin. So turned around by his words from the other night, you had completely forgotten all about the beach, returning to the other wives in a bit of a daze, something they happily sat you down and fetched some water for.

With one look at you surrounded and feverish with some water in your hand, Friedrich had cleared the house out immediately, saddening you. You were at the beach, now to make up for it, but you were sure that you had only been here all of ten minutes.

“It is a bit airish out,” he said to you, keeping your hand in place on his arm. “I do not wish to see you fall ill again.”

You struggled to argue with him about your health, understanding both the sensitive nature of the topic and the determination in his eyes to see you back inside the house. Despite what you wanted, you allowed him to guide you away from the water and sand. His hand remained on yours the whole way, and the closer you got to your home, the more your unease grew.

“Perhaps we can try again if the weather is better tomorrow,” you proposed the moment you were inside the warm walls of the house.

Your husband did not answer right away as he removed his coat, and for a moment you feared he never would, but his eyes met yours as he turned to you. He was gentle and meticulous in unbuttoning your own coat, his chest so close to yours as he slowly peeled it off of you. The words that he did not know you heard were on your mind as he looked down his nose at you, and he only answered when your arms were finally free.

“We shall see.”

His tone and his words did not seem to be in agreement, and you were unsurprised when tomorrow came and went and you did not leave the walls of your home. You found enjoyment in your books instead, and like always, you eventually felt goosebumps crawl over your arms as you became the subject of his scrutiny yet again.

Only this time, you were surprised to hear him approach.

“Read to me,” he quietly asked—demanded—of you, and you felt his hand in your hair as he sat down on the couch behind you.

It was an unexpected request, and you were silent for a few moments more as he made himself comfortable behind you. His legs were on either side of you as you relaxed on the floor, the fabric of your dresses and undergarments cushioning your bottom. It took you some time to do as he asked, but once you did, you started to forget that he was even there.

Until his fingers started to move over your scalp and he drew himself closer, his knees in your line of vision now, and his gentle breathing started to accompany the sound of your own voice. You read to him for what felt like hours, both of you only pulled from the moment when the cook informed you that dinner would be ready soon.

Much of your time was spent reading to Friedrich these days, and you wondered if he thought it a sufficient enough distraction to ensure you hardly noticed he never let you out of the house anymore. Your requests to go to the beach grew less and less with every denial and every ‘maybe’ that would just turn into a denial. The day you asked to accompany one of the staff to the market, he visibly blanched, his head shaking as he snarked at you how completely out of the question that was.

You finally spoke up when the monthly visit from your parents did not come to pass.

“I did not think it wise for them to be here,” was his only defense, and you gaped at him.

“...and why not? Why am I the last to know this?”

His hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you away from the curious eyes and ears of the kitchen staff, guiding you through the house with that long stride of his that almost made it hard to keep up. When he noticed, he slowed down, eventually halting his movements just outside of his study, and when you hesitantly reached for your arm, Friedrich loosened his hold.

You watched him use his free hand to gently brush his fingers over the appendage, looking down at it with a frown before meeting your gaze with a more even stare. 

“...because they are always trotting off to God knows where around God knows who, and I will not allow them to bring even so much as a shallow cough into this household.”

You blinked at your husband, understanding dawning on you, and you struggled with a response. You realized now that appeasing his paranoia—not fighting it and letting him have his way—was doing more harm than good. Friedrich was so good at hiding his emotions from you—even the ones you wanted to know about—but in the dimly lit hallway, you could see it clear as day in his eyes.

He was consumed with the fear that you would wind up just like Anna and his children.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly reached for his hand, removing it from your arm. You did not break your gaze, wanting him to listen to you loud and clear, and you swallowed down the unease that filled you as you stood under his unwavering gaze.

“Friedrich…” you whispered to him, so unused to the feel of his name on your tongue. “That is no way for me to live a life.”

He pushed his shoulders back at that, and you knew that he was going to argue with you, so you continued.

“You have gotten me a tonic from the doctor…I am the healthiest I have ever been…and I would very much like to see my mother and father.”

His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth curved upwards at your attempt to put your foot down. The both of you stood there for a lengthy amount of time, just staring at one another, and for the briefest of moments, you thought that Friedrich would see reason. Your hand was still on his, and your husband maneuvered them so that your hand was now in his, and when he stopped closer, you knew then that you were not getting your way.

“Perhaps some other time.”

You knew what that meant as you watched him walk away, and dread began to fill you as the reality of your predicament was truly setting in. Your eyes roamed along the walls, no longer feeling haunted by Anna, but her husband instead. He was haunting you, and she was haunting him, and in his desperation to keep you from suffering the same fate as his previous wife, Friedrich seemed content to keep you behind a gilded cage, a manicured box.

Like a porcelain doll.

Your days were consumed with only him and the house—reading to him, tending to the flowers, picking out patterns for some new drapes or a new rug to be made. It was enough to ignore the obvious for a while, enough to keep your mind off of the prolonged absence of your parents and the unmet desires to see the water and the way Friedrich stared at you like he expected you to crumble at the drop of a hat.

He was driving you nearly mad as he, and perhaps that was why you did it.

The caretaker was new and had not yet learned that Friedrich Harding preferred to keep his new wife locked up like some sickly child. Why would she? You were sure that you would be back home before he returned, but when you entered your home—the sun still at its peak outside—you did not miss the way some of the servants avoided your gaze. Only one approached you, quietly taking your coat as her gaze found the floor.

“Mr. Harding is waiting for you both…”

Your heart sank at her words, and you looked to the caretaker, knowing that you just cost her employment. That had never been your intention, and you walked ahead of her, prepared to plead her case to your husband, but he let her go on the spot before you could get a word in. Everything you said went ignored, every plea and every excuse, and it was only when the staff made themselves conveniently scarce did your proper and mighty well-to-do husband finally…

Break.

“Do you wish to ruin me? Is that it?”

His voice bounced off of the walls, and your lips parted as he stared you down. His eyes were alight with every emotion known to man, and his shoulders heaved with every breath he took. You only just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“For surely it will be the end of me if I have to say goodbye to another wife,” he angrily whispered, and you took a step back. “I do not ask much of you.”

“I know-.”

“I have not forced you to my bed, I have not demanded any sons or daughters,” he let out a tearful chuckle. “I do not even demand you greet your husband with a kiss when he returns home.”

All of this was true, and yet…

“All I ask is that you remain here.”

He said it so casually, as if he were not asking the world of you to remain prettily seated in a cage. You had never known how to gently broach this subject, understanding the sensitive nature of it, but as you stared into the face of your husband—driven mad with trauma and paranoia—you accepted that there would be no gentle way to do it.

“I am not Anna,” you breathed.

The man before you froze in place as you said her name, and you swallowed. 

“I am in good health now,” you licked your lips. “You saw to that…”

You slowly reached for him, and you did not miss the sharp look in his gaze as he followed the movement with his eyes.

“I am not going anywhere, and I implore you to have faith…”

Your words trailed off as the sound of his bitter chuckle reached your ears. Friedrich moved closer to you with no intention of stopping it seemed, and your back hit the wall. 

“Faith,” the dark-haired man sneered. “Why would I trust faith to keep you with me when that very same faith failed me before?”

You had no answer for him.

His fingers touched your face, and you looked between his eyes. His chest heaved, and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. His fingers trailed down the expanse of your neck before his hand moved to rest on the back of it, moving closer.

“You are so frail,” he murmured. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He forced your face closer, and you pressed your hands to his chest. The conflict was evident on his features, a furrow between his brows as he drank you in with those sad blue eyes of his.

“I fear that a change in the wind would rip you from my very arms.”

“Friedrich…” he gave no indication that he was listening to you. “I have not seen my mother and father in months. I know they must worry and… All I ever see are these walls and the staff and my books and you. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?”

He tilted his head.

“Do you wish for me to be alone again?”

“Friedrich, please,” you begged, and he was shaking his head as soon as you said his name.

“I cannot do what you ask of me,” he forced out, eyes becoming glassy.

You pulled at his arm and pushed at his chest, but your husband was a mountain of a man, and it did you no good. The room was filled with both of your voices at once, both of you pleading with the other—you for freedom and he for understanding.

“You do not understand the lengths I go to…”

“I will be driven to madness!”

“...the nights I refuse my own desires,” he tearfully spat.

“So you would have me be your doll then? Placed on a shelf where only you and the staff can see me? To only be looked at like a trinket until the end of my days?”

Your poor choice of words had him freezing, his voice dying in the air as he gazed at you with a stricken look in his eyes. He did not move for a concerning amount of time, and as he stared into your eyes, tears kissing his own, you wondered who he saw, right now.

You or Anna?

The wife he had lost or the one he was scared of losing?

“I cannot bear it,” he choked out, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. “It is an impossible thing to ask of me.”

You said his name, but he felt lost to you, mumbling to himself and kneading at you through the fabric of your dress. When his soft lips pressed against the skin just above your bosom, you tensed. You could feel the wetness from his tears on your flesh, and you said his name again.

In this moment, you were wholly aware of your disadvantage.

“All I do is try to protect you, and all I ask is that you help me…”

“Friedrich.”

He was on his knees, now, burly arms circled around your waist, and blue eyes wide and bright and tearful as he looked up at you.

“Yet you fight me every step of the way.”

“I am not Anna,” you said to him, trying to get him to see reason.

…but he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“...and you will never become her if I can help it.”

You felt his hand slide to your backside, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the fabric of your skirts.

“Night after night…day after day…I fight with myself for fear of hurting you, of doing irreparable damage.”

His arm tightened painfully around you, and you gasped, reaching down to pull at his sleeve.

“...and for what? For a wife who still leaves these walls and puts herself in harm’s way even after her husband begs her not to.”

“I cannot…”

You struggled to breathe, and you no longer just wanted him to let you go…you wished to get away. You both heard and felt him press a lingering kiss to your stomach, his tears wetting the fabric of your dress.

“If I am to risk you in any capacity…then surely it should be for the betterment of us both.”

So focused on trying to take in air, you did not fully register his words and the implication behind them. Your chest was tightening and your stomach was hurting, and your husband was losing his mind, and you did not know how to convince him that he would not lose you too. You pushed further back against the wall in an effort to relieve some of the painful pressure when you could suddenly breathe again.

You sharply inhaled…and the sound of tearing fabric reached your ears.

The pressure around your abdomen was loosening in more ways than one, and when you looked down, Friedrich had his hands quite literally inside of your dress. It was one that your mother had commissioned for you, but you could not find it in yourself to mourn the loss of the beautiful gown. You were more focused on your husband’s sudden animalistic nature.

You said his name, pushing at his hands, but you were no match for his strength.

“I cannot stop,” you heard him murmur, making your blood run cold. “Do not dare ask me to stop.”

With his hand at your back under the fabric, it was not long before you quite literally felt the fabric and strings of your corset being pulled taut against your flesh before ripping and popping completely. A panic seized you as you fought to get away from Friedrich, and he fought to rid you of the mountain of layers that covered you.

“Friedrich,” you gasped, pushing at his face and head, but with his arms around you in a vice-like grip, you had nowhere to go.

You pushed one foot forward, a difficult feat with a grown man attached to you, and your husband did not like that. He pulled at your dress some more—pulling down—and the action had you careening forward as you attempted to get away from him at the same time. With the floor fast approaching, you were prepared to crawl away from him, but Friedrich was much quicker on his feet than you.

Arms that were now increasingly familiar to you wrapped around your waist, catching you midfall, and Friedrich’s chest was to your back as he stood and brought you with him. You could feel his facial hair tickling your skin as he leaned in, deeply inhaling and kneading his fingers just under your chest.

“I cannot…”

His words trailed off as he forced you to face him, pink lips parted and blue eyes glazed over. Every step back from him was followed, and his nose touched yours while one hand found a home on your cheek. His lips touched yours for half a second before you pulled away, and he let you, frowning at you as if you confounded him.

She vexes me so.

You recalled those words that were not meant for your ears.

“I cannot…” his frown deepened. “I cannot resist you any longer.”

He finally stole a kiss from you, his lips covering yours in a way that no one ever had before. The kiss at your wedding was sweet—chaste even—but this was nothing of the sort. Friedrich deeply inhaled your every breath and pawed at you and pulled you closer if at all possible. The kiss made your head spin, and every time you attempted to move your head back, he followed. It was hard to breathe with his lips on yours.

You realized that what you felt against the back of your thighs was the bed, but only too late and when Friedrich’s hands tightened on the neckline of your dress. His lips sought out the flesh of your throat as he pulled and ripped it open completely. His blunt nails softly dragged against your skin as he yanked it down, moving closer, and with nowhere else to go, you felt yourself backed into a corner.

Your resistance was clear, and your husband wrapped an arm around your waist, briefly lifting you before dropping you on the soft surface. His large frame found solace between your legs, and you felt irreversibly trapped. He towered over you and his mouth held yours captive and his arms did not allow you anywhere to go.

You gasped his name into his mouth, a protest in your tone.

“I no longer have the strength to keep myself from you,” he murmured into the kiss. “Do not ask me to for I cannot do it.”

His hand slithered between your legs like a serpent, and you squirmed in a way you never had before. You had never even touched yourself there on lonely nights, recalling how unclean and unchaste it was said to be, but Friedrich was your husband. Surely that made it okay…but then why did it not feel okay in your chest? Perhaps it was because he scared you and isolated you and kept you locked away like some prized possession.

You felt yourself growing wet beneath his touch, and a low hum climbed from his throat as you laid your hand on his arm. When a finger slid into you, you dug your nails into his arm. The feel had you blinking, and when he added another, your eyes widened. A third had you gasping and him cursing—something you rarely heard. You felt stretched, and when he moved closer, forcing your legs to part more to accommodate him, you hissed.

“Lie back, my love,” he murmured to you. “It will feel much better.”

You refused to, one hand on the bed behind you in some weak hope that you could stop this before it went any further. You simply wanted freedom, and pleading with Friedrich for something so simple had ended in him seeking out his own pleasures instead. You could feel yourself dripping around his hand with every thrust of his fingers, and shame filled you.

When you were unable to swallow down a moan, you hid your face.

“There she is,” he slowly whispered, and when his thumb brushed over you in a way that had your arm weakening, he took advantage.

In one fell swoop, you found yourself on your back, your husband on top of you and his fingers still pushing into you. Your ruined dress hung off of you in tatters, and Friedrich tasted whatever visible skin there was. His large frame kept you pinned to the bed, and your eyes rolled and lashes fluttered from the way he moved his fingers and his hand between your thighs. You weakly murmured his name, and beyond that, in the quiet room, you could hear his movements. You could hear the wet sound of it, and more shame filled you, but you were not given time to linger on it.

He sat up on his knees, reaching down with his other hand so that he played you with both. You felt your back arching, and your breathing grew more shallow, and one hand gently massaged your mound while the other continued to push his fingers into your slick walls. He curled them into you over and over, massaging your insides and pressing the pads of his fingers against you.

It was unlike anything you ever felt, and when your stomach tightened—a rope or a coil or something deep within your gut—you let it until it could not any further, and you were suddenly gasping and whimpering in a way that made you sound possessed. You could feel Friedrich’s gaze on you, and when you managed to focus your own on him despite the difficulty, he wore an expression that you were sure you had never seen before.

It made you want to cover yourself and shy away, and when he pulled his fingers out of you—a tinge of red on them—that was exactly what you set out to do. 

Feeling hot and confused and unsettled by the man before you, you reached for the covers in an attempt to hide your nakedness, but your husband would not have it. He climbed over you, keeping you pinned between his thighs as he peeled off his light jacket, his tie and shirt and undershirt quick to follow.

You imagined that your wedding night would have been something akin to this, but only without this level of unease and fear and confusion. As it were, your wedding night was nothing like this. You had been alone, convinced of your husband’s lack of care for you, and now almost a year later, you were squirming beneath him and wanting to be as far away as possible from the man who metaphorically locked you in the tower and tossed the key.

“Friedrich,” you choked out, pushing at his chest. 

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you felt every bit of him as he forced you out of your garments completely.

The tip of him brushed against your sensitive flesh, and you shuddered beneath him. He would not stop kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and inhaling every gasp that escaped. His normally perfect hair was in disarray, and when he reached down between you, his other arm was proactive in holding you tight and in place for him.

The feel of his cock pushing into you almost made you wish for his fingers instead. You thought that you felt stretched before, but it was nothing in comparison to the slow way in which he sheathed himself inside of you. You felt unnaturally full, and it took your breath away. Friedrich groaned from above you, and you felt a shudder crawl up his back as he rested inside of you.

“I tried,” you heard him whisper. “I tried so very hard…but I cannot go another day without having you.”

He slowly pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained before sinking into you completely. You could not stop the movements of your body, your hips lifting with his as if being carried by a wave, a breathless sigh escaping with every thrust. His bare chest was pressed to yours, and his burly arms kept you right where he wanted you, and you felt yourself slowly forgetting why you had ever resisted him.

“Endless nights of lying awake and knowing you were a mere room away,” Friedrich breathed against your skin. “So close…and so forbidden to me.”

The speed of his hips grew, and your nails dug into his skin, dragging over it as he plunged his cock into you with a vigor you did not know he had. He was always so cold with you, keeping you at arm’s length even when he was touching you. You recalled the feel of his hand on your hair and his fingers on your mouth and a brush against your waist. Always giving in just a little bit more until he no longer had the desire to hold himself back. Always staring and watching and craving.

It was so clear to you, now, and all you could think was that your mother was right…

…and you were a fool.

“I feared I would break you,” he panted, thrusting into you so strongly that the bed beneath you shook. “I still fear that I just might.”

He pushed himself up onto his hands so that he could look down at you, and the dull tender ache had started to subside, replaced by something that far exceeded the pleasure his fingers had given you. Your back arched, and Friedrich wasted no time in dipping his head to wrap his lips around a heaving breast. His tongue swirling around a hardened bud had you reaching up to thread your fingers through his dark locks.

He groaned at the action, and when he lifted his head again, his intense blue gaze sought out yours. You softly moaned every time his hips curved into yours, his cock smoothly sliding between your folds, now and stroking you in a way that momentarily convinced you your freedom was not all that desirable. Your husband did not look away from your eyes again, and it felt overwhelming to be beneath him and staring into his eyes and feel him within you.

One of his hands reached up to touch your cheek, and a frown formed between his brows.

“So fragile… It would take nothing for me to break you, to snuff you right out,” his words made your heart skip a beat. “You test my self control in ways that terrify me.”

His hand traveled to your neck.

“I was right to fear the monster that I would unleash if I ever got my hands on you…”

His fingers danced to the back of your neck, and he gripped the hair at the nape there, slowly and gently forcing your head back. His hips did not relent once, meeting yours again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin reaching your ears among other things that filled you with shame. So much shame.

“For I will never be able to resist you again.”

He leaned in and pressed gentle kisses along the expanse of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste the damp skin, humming at the salty nature the thin sheen of sweat gave it. You whimpered when he reached down with his free hand, fingers brushing against you and circling you as you greedily clenched around his cock. 

“If anything happened to you,” he whispered into your neck. “It would be my undoing.”

[wtfaniii]

Thank you for all your support in the first part of this one shot! Here I bring you the second one as you requested, I hope you like it💗

Paparazzi

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warning: Some harassment, angst and violence.

Note: I'm open to special requests and constructive criticism! Sorry for the delay with this second part but I just got back to college and have been a little busy.

—I'm sorry for hitting you like that.

As they walked back to the room, the girl apologized embarrassedly, perhaps she had gone a bit too far and the best way to calm him down would have been to talk.

But it was the tension of the moment.

—Don't worry, I think I needed it —He replied with a soft smile.

They felt the judging glances of the other players for surviving but that didn't bother them, yes, maybe it was a little uncomfortable but the smile and a happy greeting from player 149 made the entrance more pleasant.

After sitting down and talking a little, each one introduced themselves with their respective names. They were a team from now on and they preferred to call each other by their names instead of a simple number that they had on their jackets.

—I’m sorry for that behavior earlier —Young-il apologized to the two girls on the team.

Uncontrolled behavior was common among men, they knew how easily lost their sanity if failed to achieve a goal, especially if it was the life at stake, but having done so in front of two young ladies was frowned upon.

—And Jun-hee, as soon as we get out of here you should go see a doctor, stress is not good for you.

The way he expressed that feeling of concern and empathy for the pregnant young woman was charming to the girl sitting next to him.

She had only known him for a few hours, but the fluid conversation they had managed to make them agree on several things, she was delighted with that player, but the cherry on the cake was the laugh that appeared on him face when he made a joke about Gi-hun's name, no one shared his moment of happiness except for her.

It was impossible for her to remain serious when she noticed that despite the circumstances they were in and the fact that were about to die a few minutes ago, Young-il maintained his humor.

After a few minutes, voting began once again to decide whether to stay or leave, however the majority of participants voted for the blue circle, condemning the rest of the players who refused to continue playing.

The girl continued terrified, this was not her job, Mr. Seong Gi-hun had not hired her for that.

In-ho just watched her, noticing her lips pressed together in a grimace and her brow furrowed, a sign that was frustrated at not being able to get out of there.

While the food was being distributed, In-ho sat next to Gi-hun in complete silence, player 456 was further away from his target and that disappointed him, but his eyes drifted slightly towards 455, the detective was sitting on her bed accompanied by Jun-hee, the disappointment and fear of staying still etched in their expressions.

When Jung-bae came over to apologize for pressing the blue circle he stood up and walked towards the two girls.

—Take it Jun-hee —His voice caught her attention —You need to eat more to maintain your strength —Seeing that she was going to refuse, he insisted with a smile —Besides, I don't drink whole milk.

222 took the little box and thanked her with a slight bow.

—You have to eat too —He said looking at the girl.

She hadn't even gone for food, she was nervous about the next game and more than out of fear, preferred to think about how to get through the next round.

—I'm not that hungry.

—I'll go with you.

In-ho wasn't asking if she was hungry or not, it was a request for her to go get his food and eat it later.

She couldn't refuse and he made that clear when held out his hand for her to take, Jun-hee watched the act with wide eyes and a slight smile, he was quite the gentleman.

—I'll go with the others —222 said, starting to feel like was in the way.

—Come on —In-ho repeated, taking her hand and gently pulling up from where she was sitting.

Her smiled at him and went for she respective portions. As night fell, Gi-hun began to make a kind of fortress where they could stay. They would take turns sleeping or staying awake to stand guard.

—¿Don't you think you're exaggerating? I don't think these people are capable of killing each other —Said 001 with a grimace.

—You haven't seen these games before —Gi-hun argued.

—He's right —the girl said. —We must be alertm

The way she seemed to be able to be afraid and brave at the same time was curious to In-ho.

During the night, everyone was asleep except for Jung-bae and Dae-ho because it was their turn to keep watch, but seeing that the girl was also awake, Dae-ho approached her.

—¿Aren't you going to sleep? ¿What are you doing?

Watching her try to break the zipper of the jacket, he arched an eyebrow.

—¿What are you doing? —Him ask for the second time, this time more curious.

—The bathrooms have ventilation, with something metal I can open the gate.

It wasn't a great plan but it would be useful, or at least that's what she thought.

—¿Are you going to escape? —Dae-ho asked in surprise at her plan.

Those words caught the attention of the man who was barely trying to sleep in his bed, In-ho opened his eyes and listened attentively.

—I hope so —she agreed not very convinced that those ducts lead to a safe exit without guards. —If I manage to do it, I will go for Gi-hun's team and come back for you guys

—¿What if he finds out?

—Well... The worst thing that can happen to me is getting a bullet in the head.

In-ho twisted his lips, it seemed that the detective who was afraid of dying had disappeared, leaving behind a girl who now only wanted to survive but without seeing anyone else die.

That was honorable, he admitted, but still didn't understand how she would risk his life for people she barely knew and for his boss, accept that she escape without looking back but come back for them?

¿For him?

Or at least that's what he thought when he felt her gaze on him.

—None of you deserve to die in here, you are good people, if I am going to die... I will not do it playing, I will do it trying to do something good.

Those words were enough for In-ho to recognize her worth, finally there was the girl he had been following for a whole year who planned her moves well.

It was nice what she wanted to do.

It was also a complete shame that him had to ruin it for her.

Thanks for reading!! 😸😸😸I think the third part will be full of angst and will be somewhat cloying. I love romance sorry

Tag list:

@lucinda-reads @deathsmellzz @autmn4lvs @cvbi @ava-cjkk @ari200027 @claristary

[seungcheorry]

nothing pains soonyoung more than the scene right in front of him.

he always thought he was tough enough to deal with things, even when he had a hard time he knew he could overcome it; but that crumbled the moment he held his daughter for the first time.

nothing mattered anymore, he knew he was ready to risk literally everything at all for her. so to see her now, laying in bed with her pretty, chubby face - his genetics - all red because of a fever, it just breaks his heart entirely.

"should we take her to the doctor again?", he asks you for the nth time.

"only if we can't get rid of this fever", you sigh, eyes tired from staying up all night with her. soonyoung isn't so different. "the medicine should kick in at any minute now."

"what if it doesn't?"

"it will, soonyoung."

he watches as you get up from her bed, kissing her forehead as she doesn't even move - he's so used to seeing her running around the house, screaming at the top of her lungs, calling him in the middle of the day just to ask when is he coming home to her. it's strange.

"i know you're worried", you say, wrapping your arms around his waist. "but i promise you she's gonna be fine."

"she... she never got sick like this, not even when she was a baby", his shoulders are slumped down.

"i know. but she's tough, she's gonna get better."

as if on cue, the girl shifts ever so slightly in her bed, red eyes looking straight to soonyoung.

"appa...", she calls weakly, her little hand raising in his direction.

it's not a request, but even if it was, she wouldn't need to repeat it - soonyoung is beside her in a second, laying with her and resting his own hand on her belly, where the whole problem apparently was.

"i'm here, peanut", he whispers to her. "i'll always be."

[irndad]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[pellucid-constellations]

Yes!! Bucky drabble pleaseeee. Soft!bucky!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 800

Warnings: Broken bones, this is just fluff and a fave trope of mine

a/n: Here's a little fun one <3

~~

“Yeah, thanks,” Bucky grunted out, bending his knees as you hung off his neck and giggled to yourself. The doctor was talking so much and you clearly needed to sit down. “I think we got it, doc. I’ll bring her back next week to check the break once the swelling’s gone down.” 

He said a few more things about pain medications and infections and Bucky fought an eye roll because there was no way in hell he’d let you get an infection. 

“Right, and how long is she going to be like… this?” Bucky asked when there was a pause in the never-ending surge of information. You gasped into his ear, standing straight up. 

“That was rude,” you chastised. You attempted to unwind yourself from him, but the cast on your arm impeded your ability to dramatically cast yourself away. 

Bucky turned from the doctor to catch your bleary, narrowed gaze. “Didn’t mean it in a bad way, honey.” 

You scoffed, bringing your hand up to his jaw. “I want a smoothie.” 

Bucky returned his gaze to the doctor, brows raised. 

“Should only be a couple of hours at most. If you get her sleeping, it will wear off faster.” 

Bucky appreciated the good news from the doctor, but as he attempted to shove you into his truck, the few-hour estimate was excruciating.

“Please. I love you, but you have to listen to me and get in the car. I can get you a smoothie once we leave, sweetheart.”

“Are you married?” you asked in an accusatory fashion, eyes once again narrowed. 

Bucky paused at that, hands on his hips as you stood your ground in front of his car. “Uh, yeah,” he answered. “My wive’s a real piece of work sometimes, I’ll tell you that much.” 

You laughed at him, the sound sardonic and curt. “I knew it. You keep calling me sweetheart and honey and you had your hands all over me.” You threw your hands up. Bucky winced as your broken one flung in the air. “I’m sure your wife wouldn’t appreciate that very much, would she? But what can I expect from a man?” 

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, his expression softening as you continued to glare at him. “Thank you for looking out for my wife. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure she would,” you seethed. 

“Yeah, I love her a whole lot. Nice to know other people appreciate her.” 

“Nice way of showing it, you creep.” 

Bucky fought back a smile, not wanting to mock your sincere anger. He stood a few feet away from you in the parking lot as you stared him down, your back pressed against his truck in defiance. You wouldn’t get in because you thought he was trying to cheat on his wife. You were his wife, but he couldn’t blame you for not making the connection. He always considered you way out of his league. 

“Do me a favor?” Bucky asked, a laugh lodging in his throat at the way you scoffed. He slid your phone from his front pocket and held it out in front of him. He didn’t miss the way you eyed his wedding band in distaste. “Call your friend for me—Wanda, I think it was. She can pick you up.” 

You ripped the phone from his hand, making a show of pressing your finger to the screen aggressively (which Bucky again flinched at because—broken arm), when you abruptly paused. You looked at your phone screen and back at Bucky several times, the disorientation more prevalent on your face without the anger taking over. 

“Is this me?” you asked, words more slurred. 

Bucky began inching forward, eager to get you in the car as your body started catching up to the mind-numbing pain medications you were currently on. He spoke as you kept your eyes glued to your phone.

“Uh huh. You married me. Crazy, isn’t it?” 

“Huh,” you breathed out. “Sorry, then.” 

Bucky didn’t hide his laugh this time. He caught your waist as you started to sag further into the truck, guiding your head into his shoulder, the lovesick expression on his face only for the side view mirror to see. 

“S’alright,” he comforted. “Still mad at me?”

“Probably not. You’re my husband.” 

“Guess you can decide when you wake up.” 

You hummed in response, Bucky taking the opportunity to unlock the car and slide you into the passenger seat. Once the seatbelt was firmly across your chest, he kept his hand on the headrest and leaned closer to your mused face. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your cheek, sharing a private smile with no one as you scrunched your face up. “Sorry, sorry—forgot you just met me.” He gave your chin a soft tap and shut the door, jogging to the other side before mumbling to himself. “Married for five years but whatever.”