#angst central

yeji/yuna- i can totally see yuna going to yeji for advice on how to court jisu even if yeji herself isnt in a relationship (yet) because she looks up to her that much!! yuna being really really shy about it and yejis first response is to laugh because she finds yuna’s anxiousness SO endearing 😢😢

alpha ryeong au- ryeji getting together a couple months later after yeji had talked it through with ryu and ryu genuinely had feelings for yeji. ryeong, after a mindless night out with someone just to get past her rut, walks in on ryeji cuddled up on the couch together. it hits her like a harsh gust of wind and shes immediately aware of the faint scent of another omega on her. she tries shaking off her jacket and tries covering up the scent with her own but she meets ryus eyes from across the room and her heart stops when she sees ryu furrow her brows and look her up and down. when ryu finally pieced it together in her head, she flinches slightly before looking away, returning her head to the crook of yejis neck and wrapping her arms tighter around the older alpha

had thoughts on EVERYTHING and decided it was more efficient to send em all together at once

-🐈‍⬛

incredible, thank you 🐈‍⬛, i was about to drive myself nuts

yeji and yuna's relationship is so precious, like that's her first daughter! there's so much love and respect between them

ok ouch? angst alert with ryury there. the way ryujin would immediately be able to tell because she's so familiar with chaeryeong's scent, she'd pick up even the slightest little difference (...why do i want to add that yeji's full on asleep on the couch like passed out while watching a movie with ryujin, and wakes up when ryu snuggles deeper into her. still drowsy, she pulls ryujin closer first and then opens her eyes to see chaeryeong looking at them and she tenses, bonus if ryeji's been keeping their relationship pretty lowkey and private)

(slightly inspired by this post)

yes he did that for his country, and for himself so he wouldn’t have to be complicit in the consequences. but idc man I would like to think that this was the moment where firstly, he realised how much he’d grown comfortable with Rehman, Uzair et al., and secondly, it was the moment he was jolted back into reality.

his desperation, while of course because of the substantive issue at hand, also stemmed from the fact that he was suddenly reminded of his mission. he was reminded of the sheer scale of things, of the gravity, of the stakes. and one tiny, tiny part of him didn’t want to abandon the semblance of peace he’d found.

maybe he could convince Rehman away from this, and things would be okay again.

Clark Kent (Superman) x Fem!Reader

🪽 boarders by @enchanthings & @cursed-carmine 🪽

wordcount. 1.7k ~ masterlist.

One. Two. Three.

You worked as a nurse in Metropolis, tirelessly giving the best of yourself for the good of others. Once Lois Lane, your best friend, introduced you to her work friends, you fell for Clark Kent, a journalist with piercing blue eyes and a heart of gold. You're convinced he'd never fall for you, so you love him from a distance.

But a night in the ER with Superman might just change everything.

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Suggestive themes, hints of 18+ (Minors DNI), Seemingly side character (best friend) Reader, Angst City, Reader is a YEARNER in this one folks, She fell first, He fell HARDER, Clark is a D1 yearner, He's SO soft, Reader doesn't know Clark's identity but Lois does, Angsty Reader, Insecure Reader, Reader is bad at reading emotions, Lois is best friend GOALS, Caring Clark Kent

The fluorescence hum of light echoed faintly behind a growing migraine. You'd already lost count of how many rounds you'd done at this point.

Somewhere a clock ticked, somewhere a patient moaned with pain.

You were so tired. This was your second double shift of this week alone. But you tied your mask on anyway and snapped on gloves quickly.

You needed to do better, work harder.

Because tonight, the ER was flooded.

Lois, your roommate and best friend, had called around 8:00, warning you of an ongoing fight between Superman and Parasite, telling you to be ready for an influx of bloodied civilians. She had been covering footage with her fellow reporter, Clark Kent, when he left her to get close-up camera coverage.

That was never good news.

Clark, whom you'd tirelessly but secretly fawned over after meeting him at a work event Lois invited you to, had always been more reckless than Lois, both with his coverage and his writing.

He was incredibly nerdy, with the bluest eyes that melted you inside out when you met him.

The two of you had debated Star Wars for an hour, while Jimmy, Lois, and the others drank and talked about "More interesting things."

You thought about that night a lot.

"Is he okay?" You'd called over the phone, concern evident in your voice.

"He's fine, Y/n, you know the guy is basically incapable of getting hurt." Lois responded, "Okay, I've gotta move, have fun, and save lives!"

It was very odd how often Clark got coverage so close, so you'd all bet on the first time he'd get roped in with civilians, while he laughed and shook his head. You prayed that tonight was not that night.

It was past 11:00 now, and you'd sutured enough minor cuts to sew a whole person back together at this point.

The groaning came from the more severe patients, whom the doctors above you treated. Occasionally, you were called to give pain medication and assess simple vitals, but you mostly stayed back and watched.

After stitching up an elderly woman named Denise's hand, you give her an ice pack for her head and walk away, her calling out a soft, "Thank you, dear," behind you.

You're not doing enough. Keep going.

Your head was spinning at this point, so you made your way into the quiet waiting room near the south side of the emergency entrance, where patients nearly never sat due to the crooked old seats and dimmed, flickering light.

You needed a break from the pressure you always put on yourself.

You worried about Clark, about his safety. He was the first guy you'd been hopelessly in love with for years, and Lois was constantly telling you to ask him out, but you were far too shy.

Plus, he seemed to like her more anyway, always asking her questions, and for god's sake, they worked together.

You couldn't lie, it made you slightly jealous.

So you used this area as your secret haven, to which you sat in silence when you needed a break on a long shift, or to mull something over in your mind. It was the quietest part of the hospital. You pull down your mask as you walk towards the space.

What you didn't expect was to be met with Superman, in the flesh, sitting on the bench with his head low.

You pause, glancing to see if anyone else has noticed the superhero sitting here, but the ER buzzes enough on the other side to tell you that you are alone with him.

You aren't really sure what to say. It's rare enough to see the man in person, but here he was, suit scraped with cuts and burns, and several crimson stains. His dark hair was greased over with sweat and grime. He was hurt, and you were a nurse.

Cmon, Y/n, look at him. He needs help.

"Um.. Superman, sir?" You timidly whisper, stunned at the sight before you.

He slowly raises his head in confusion before gazing at you silently, and you are stunned at his cut jawline, "Oh! I'm- sorry, I never usually see people over here." He begins to say after realising he's been staring, eyes wide.

But you stop him, helping him back down into the uncomfortable seating, which is miraculously holding his weight.

He shudders at your touch.

It makes you blush.

Your nursing instincts take over. Yes, this was Superman. Yes, he was 100% the most attractive man you had ever seen, well, besides maybe Clark.

But no, that would not stop you from helping a patient.

"That's alright, can I help you?" You say, eyeing his various injuries with drawn brows, he watches your eyes as they scan him. You feel thoroughly exposed, even with scrubs covering almost every inch of you.

You can't help the redness of your cheeks.

"I'm alright, ma'am." He says, quieter now, "Just here to make sure as many civilians survived as possible." He dips his head to the floor.

That took you aback. The man had just fought a creature who injured hundreds of people for hours, and now he was sitting in the hospital waiting room to check on each of their statuses. He truly was incredibly selfless, and you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered.

"Sir, with all due respect, they are in good hands," you calmly tell him, raising his head with a hand and wiping the cut on his forehead, a small gash with blood dripping down from his cheek to his jaw.

"Oh- I know, I just," he begins, tired, eyes nervous, and cheeks red.

"Let me stitch you up?" You ask, not letting him finish. He stares at you again, quiet for a long time, and nods.

"Please."

Clark knows it's pointless; the sun would heal his minor cuts almost instantly in the morning, but you were here, sitting in front of him. Wanting to help, and slightly gawking at him while you did it.

He liked you watching him like this.

The night that Lois brought you to drinks to meet her work friends, Clark swore he had never seen someone so entirely stunning. You were shy around him, lightly staring into his eyes and glancing away every time he noticed. The way your voice sounded saying his name for the first time made him dizzy.

The minute he found out you were a nurse? Oh, he was done for.

He always admired people like him, who wanted to make the world a better place. He grew to become your close friend, and he'd always listen to your problems at work.

Clark had fallen for you hard.

And here you were, sneaking all the supplies needed to this janky side of the emergency room, for his privacy's sake, and cleaning up cuts when he was sure you had better things to do.

Exhaustion practically painted itself on your face as you carefully swept at dried blood with patience.

Every time you noticed him staring, you'd tuck your head a little more. It killed him. You were adorable.

"So, how long have you been here tonight?" He asks, causing a small laugh from you, "I look that tired, huh?"

Clark's eyes widen. Oh gosh, that sounded rude. "No! I mean, you just, you seem like you're ready to collapse into the nearest bed or something."

"I'd take a chair, honestly," you huff, "I'm working a double, get off around 4:00."

"Golly, ma'am, I can't believe you're still awake." That makes you laugh a little louder this time. He winces as the solution you put on his hand, causing you to blow on it lightly.

Clark gulps.

"And what about you, Superman? How come you're not passed out right here?" You say, nodding to the several chairs lined beside you both.

He shrugs, "I have no idea, normally I hit the bed after a fight, I just had a feeling about coming here tonight instead."

You both fall silent again.

"Well," you speak, bandaging the last gash on his arm, "I think you'll live, and I'll go cross you out on the OR board for this arm now." You pat his shoulder, beginning to stand as the muscles in your back scream for a soft place to lie.

"Oh, thank goodness, what would the world do without such an amazing nurse?" Superman says charmingly, placing a sincere hand over his heart. You smile weakly as you begin to gather the used supplies.

"There's plenty more nurses here, who are better equipped than me, I'm sure," you dismiss his praise, lowering your head as you sigh.

You haven't said much, but the tension is palpable as he pauses, staring at you. Your breath catches.

A hand raises to your chin, tilting it towards his face.

You barely have the nerve to meet his eyes, but when you do, they envelope you most sincerely and lovingly.

They reminded you of someone.

"I think you're incredible," Superman says, quiet enough that you're not sure if it was real or imaginary, so you open your mouth to speak, but no words come.

He stands, eyes locked on your lips and cheeks flushed with more than bruising.

"Thank you." You softly admit. Your heart pounds now, blood rushing to your chest. Superman gently moves his hand and tucks a piece of loosened hair from your braid behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek for a moment, barely grazing it in a light stroke.

"Until next time, Sweetheart."

And then he's gone.

Quicker than you could have said, "Wait."

authorsnote: A little mini-series while I work on plot building for my other Clark Kent story! I hope you enjoy!

dm or comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐰

Blood.

There is blood everywhere. On the ground, on the table, on her dear Brienne’s face and surcoat, on her gown when she climbs onto the table beside him and pulls his upper body into her lap, curling around him. On his hand that he weakly raises to stroke her hair; on her hair now, as well, but what does it matter, she is losing him, he is leaving her.

She is not old enough to be a widow. (Her younger sister has been one for four years.)

Their son is not old enough to rule. (Their son is the same age he was when he was made Prince.)

He cannot leave their children, their daughter is only six. (Her brother was only two when their mother died in childbirth. His brother was only a baby when their parents drowned.)

She is clutching him to her chest, and he is whispering, “I love you so much, my darling. You are everything, absolutely everything. I was such a better man for having been loved by you. To have been given your love is the greatest honor I can imagine.” She is replying, “You are by far the best thing that ever happened to me. There are no men like you. Only you, my love. Only you.” He is rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. She is kissing him one last time. His hand is falling to his chest.

She is wailing. (She had not wailed when her mother died, nor her father. She had been quiet.)

She is wailing. She cannot stop wailing.

She is broken.

Their son is watching. He is crying. He is Prince now.

She cannot move. She cannot stop wailing.

She is not old enough to be a widow. (They called her a widow when Brandon died.) (That pain could not hold a candle to the blazing sun that is now within her chest.)