#and reader Obviously

[stellewriites]

hello just saw speak no evil and it has got my thoughts GOING,, i think an au is on the horizon for it

[softaestluv]

Simon Riley who doesn’t tell you that he’s coming home from an assignment because he enjoys the way your eyes light up, the excited noise you make when he surprises you a little too much. But his surprise is ruined when he gets home, and it’s dark outside. Hadn’t expected to arrive so late into the night; you probably fell asleep long ago.

So, he has to sneak in.

He takes featherweight steps down the hallway, doesn’t want to wake you abruptly or frighten you. Stopping once he reaches the side of the bed, leaning down, so he can brush your cheek, lightly shake you awake.

Except his hand never makes it to your face.

Instead, you lunge forward, slamming him to the floor and pinning his hands to his sides with your knees, pressing the weight of your body to his chest. The knife he gave you to protect yourself pressed to his neck, a ferocious expression on your face.

Simon’s utterly shocked, “Jesus, love, it’s just me.”

“Simon! I thought you were a thief!” You explain, dropping the knife to the side, “I didn’t know! You taught me better than that!”

He laughs, loud and boisterous. Pride beats his chest because yeah, he had taught you that. Smiles wide and proud at you.

“That’s my girl.”

✎ᝰ.ᐟ

[yeyinde]

i love the idea of Simon sending you pics of bones; dead animals, lumps of dirt or leaves or a sheet that kinda looks like a buried body; a blurry image of a deer standing frozen outside of his windshield, an empty lot, a dilapidated, overgrown house; a shaky image of an angel on a tombstone, a field, and just captioning each one with "made me think of you" and nothing else.

and of course it keeps you up all night wondering what he means by that. is it a threat? why is a dead deer in the woods making him think of you? why does he keep giving you little figures whittled into what is obviously bone (and a piece of a gravestone that's been chiselled into the lumpy shape of a heart).

this is crazy. he's insane. you should call someone. immediately.

but unfortunately for you, it's not like you could even bother getting a restraining order on him—if you think a piece of paper is enough to keep him away, then he'll just uno reverse and get a marriage certificate instead. problem solved.

[specsthesecond]

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ ﾟ🌕ﾟ｡⋆*｡ﾟ☄️｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Alien partner who is constantly amazed and appalled by human biology. 

You crack your knuckles in front of them once and they look at you with the most horrified expression.

You don't react in immense pain so obviously you're fine but this poor soul thinks you actually just broke your bones out of nowhere 😭. 

They can hear your heart beat and are absolutely fascinated with the way it speeds up and slows down. 

They like how it speeds up when they get closer and talk lower so they do that pretty often. They like how it slows down when you go to sleep, they find the slow rhythmic thumps very soothing. 

They'll constantly ask you questions about your species whenever a question pops into their head. 

"What are these for?"

They gently brush your eyelashes with their finger as you lay on their chest one morning. You don't open your sleepy eyes when you respond. 

"Keeps dust out of our eyes." 

There's definitely a better answer you could've given but that's all you have the energy for right then and they seem to be satisfied with that. 

Just imagine an alien partner who is so openly enthralled by you. They can't help but hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes, absolutely amazed. 

"Do all human eyes look like yours?"

You manage to actually respond, voice soft to match theirs,

"They come in a few colours but everyone's eyes are different." 

"Yours is the most beautiful colour I've ever seen."

They say while gazing into your eyes as if you hold all the stars in the galaxy in your pupils.

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡°｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ﾟ☄️｡⋆°

[mafuyuakgae]

even if I came to love humanity in the end, there’s no proof I was ever here, right?

[abyssyby]

sylus finding himself idling— waiting for his order @ a restaurant, sitting in the back of a car otw to a location, held for ransom in an underground cage, u name it— bored out of his mind or with no phone signal so he just kinda sits there and scrolls through his photos app. once empty now just filled with organized folders of your candid & noncandid photos. he loves to sort as much as he loves to hoard, ok, it brings him peace.

simply named albums:

eating 📂 and its photos of you and food, taking a bite. holding out a fork, a spoon, a wrapper, chopsticks of food for him to try with an excited glint in your eye. him feeding you. you grimacing at the odd orders, deciphering if they're good or not. pointing excitedly at food trucks and menus ("let's try that! let's try this!"). your face in a >0< bc your overeager self inhaled something too hot. looking up at him with crumbs on your cheeks, brightcolored dye-stained lips. blurred photos of you trying to kiss him with icing on your lips, reaching out to make a mess of him too.

sleeping 📂 and its you wrapped around his bicep dozed off. you on his chest snoozin. your closed eyes peeking out of the duvet with the slowly coloring sky through the window behind you. you drifting away during a car ride, hand in his, lips slightly parted. cold morning cuddles. selfies of grumpy you in the middle of the night with him in the backdrop hogging the blanket (you sent them to him to see in the morning because you never remember being upset when you wake up). VIDEOS of your sleep talking— and his tiny chuckles and comments ("adorable" as your hiss about ratatouille, smoothing out the crease between your brows with his thumb "grumpy grumpy dove", massaging the joint under your ear as you tense your jaw "mm, might hurt in the morning"). most of the photos are taken from the front camera, often with his cut off fond smile and soft eyes in the corner.

shopping 📂 and its you at the store picking out fruits, sneaking sweets in the cart. your back in a gorgeous outfit as you stare at jewels and protocores in glass. trying out the strangest things to get a chuckle out of him ("whats this now?", "fampire teef"— got him!). at the festivals holding up two lanterns with a distressed look on your face (you cant choose). at the shops with two coats, a helpless look in your eyes (you cant choose). you at the check out with a shy smile as you hand the cashier his black card (he bought everything).

kittens (and more) 📂 and AAAA its a video of you at meow cafe slamming down a kitty card with a wayyy too competitive look on your face. you crouched on the side of the road feeding stray cats. you at a bird sanctuary with eyes half-closed, a bright smile on your face as the birds make a nest in your hair. you and a giant dog you cooed at in the park ("sy, sy! take our photo, please please. his name is kujo!"). you mid-scream as a rat runs by your feet. you with lions for some reason? (bonus, you on the couch with his large body atop yours, head on your belly as you watch TV and pet his ears that one time he got kitty cursed via ‘Luke sent from my iPhone’)

us 📂 and its you and him. your selfies where hes frowning at something out of frame and youre 😄✌️. when he has his arm around you as you walk, his eyes forward but you’ve decided to snap a bright-eyed photo. selfies you take from a low angle as youre bored out of your mind during an auction, he smiles fondly to appease you. selfies in the dim of movie night with him in his glasses and fluffy hair and you wrapped up in your giant blanket-poncho. selfie of you kissing his cheek while he sleeps. mirror selfies of u in facemasks & matchy headbands. your HANDS, with your RINGS, intertwined with his fingers. creating, presenting (craft, art, music, a reloaded weapon, a flower, a bug, a silly rubber band shape you were so proud to show him). playing with the hem of his jacket. nail photos you send him after an appointment?? saved. candid photos of you two bickering and then immediately after flirting airdropped by the twins (captioned "gross." via 'Keiran sent from my iPhone'). and countless photos of him kissing your hair as youre taking the picture— one for each season— dusted with snow, trees and flowers in full bloom behind you, sweaty and against the light in the summer heat, and you tucked in his coat as the orange leaves dance above you in the wind.

he scrolls, a stupid little smile on his face, until his food arrives. until his car comes to a stop. until you’re breaking down the metal bars of his prison, sweaty and breathless and worried and beautiful, to save him.

(he takes a photo of that last image too, saving it to the general ‘beloved’)

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[wainawtmai]

tags: fluff, 18+, blowjobs, semi-public sex, lots of lipstick, satoru wears elf lip shimmer don't take it up with me take it up with gege

✧˖*° thinking about going to sephora with satoru...

“This one’s cute on you, ‘toru.” You hum, spreading the elf shimmer across his pink lips. They pull up in an endearing smirk, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself, it was unfair how pretty he was.

“Really? What shade is it?” He lifted your hand to read the shade on the bottle, the pale skin of the back of his hand covered in your multicolored lipstick and eyeshadow swatches. 

You squish his cheeks together, his glossed lips pursing as you cock your head, “I like this one, ‘think I’ll get it too.” 

“Yeah?” Satoru’s arms circle your waist as he pulls you in closer, pressing his lips to yours in a messy and unecessary kiss. You’re sure people are staring and are breathless when he pulls away, smiling down at you innocently, “looks good on you.” 

You glance at a nearby mirror, “god, you’re such a perv.” You swipe at the residue across your upper lip and press your lips together, “but you’re right, should we match, babe?” 

Satoru nuzzles his face into your neck as he smirks at you in the mirror, “I dunno, I think it kinda looks better on me.” 

“Does it?” 

“Mhm, I mean if I walk out of the store like this there’ll be a mob.” He presses a kiss to your neck, arms still circled around your hips, “you already have a hard enough time with me as is, baby, I wouldn’t want to give you any more trouble.” He gives you a ridiculous pout in the mirror and you flick him in the forehead, pulling yourself from his grasp and sauntering to another isle. 

You’re scrutinizing a wine colored Dior lipstick when Satoru totters after you, holding your already full basket of makeup. “That’ll look pretty on you.” He muses, eyeing a YSL burgundy colored lipstick before tossing it in the cart, “Ooh, and that one.” He grasps another violet lipstick beside it, “this one too.”

“Really? B-But I’m scared you’ll outshine me.” You say with a fake pout and Satoru chuckles. 

“i know, baby, not everyone can look this good.” He lilts arrogantly and you pinch his cheek, laughing as he winces. 

You glance back down at the red lipstick in your hand, scrutinizing the label, “Hm, says this is transfer and water proof. But I feel like they always lie.” 

“Really?” He says, hands finding their way around your waist once again, you can see his grin in the mirror, the one you know spells trouble, "Let’s buy it and test it out then.” Satoru murmurs into your ear.

You shake your head shamefully at him and place the red lipstick in the cart...But there’s already a smile pulling at your lips, “You’re right, and we can try out the other one’s out as well.” 

✰

“seems Dior doesn’t disappoint.” You murmur, glancing at your lips in your compact mirror. The lipstick hadn't budged one bit, still perfectly dark red and in place upon your lips.

Satoru on the other hand…“You look soo prettyy, baby.” He slurs, completely and utterly overstimulated, cheeks flushed and eyes lidded. “Red is your color, girl.” You laugh at his delirium and he giggles in response, brushing a trembling thumb across your painted lips. 

“Thanks, babe,” You smile, pressing a kiss to his finger, “Let’s check one more time, you know I like to be sure about my makeup.” 

Satoru’s eyes widened despite the stiffness quickly returning to his trembling cock, “I-I don’t think I can anymore, baby.” He tries, giving you a nervous smile.

“C’monn, this was your idea, 'toru.” The second Satoru handed his black card to the cashier at sephora, the two of you sauntered across the mall to a department store, with striped black and white bags in hand (or more in Satoru’s hands), and grabbed a random article of clothing before piling into the dressing room. That was only what, three orgasms ago..?

“And it’s already hard for me.” You murmured, stroking his cock in your warm grasp, acrylic nailed-fingers slick with his cum. “You don’t want to help me anymore, baby?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, your red lips down in a pout, and fuck he couldn't refuse you when you look at him like that. 

“I-I do, it’s just—ah” You don’t give him a chance to finish as you take him into your mouth again, his thick length slowly disappearing between your lucious red lips. Satoru gives a nervous laugh, moaning at the feeling of your perfect tongue sliding along his cock. “Fuuuck, baby.”

It doesn’t help that you’re making little moans in the back of your throat as you do it, the little vibrations sending tingles throughout his whole body and he has to remind himself that he can’t be loud. 

You pull off him with a sigh, lips shiny with his pre but still so gorgeously red, “You gotta be rough with me, 'toru, c’mon. I know you love fucking my mouth.” 

If he wasn’t so fucked out he’d give a snide reply, but he doesn’t understand how he hasn’t passed out as you fasten your lips around him again. He’s whimpering as you deep throat him, then sifting his fingers through your hair and forcing you down on his cock, whining a little at the surprised sound you make as you slightly choke on him. 

Tears are springing to your eyes now and you’re struggling to breath, but there’s a thrill in that, you’re sure your panties are drenched and you’re dripping all over the carpeted floor of this department store changing room. Satoru’s practically drooling as he moans and whimpers, his words all gibberish as he sloppily fucks your throat. And then he pushes you down to the base, your nose nestled into his soft pubic hair as he empties his load down your throat. Somehow that makes you moan louder than he does. 

You ignore the urge to overstimulate him further, pulling off his softening cock and pressing a kiss to his stomach, “good job, Satoru," you coo, "you’re so good for me.” 

He pulls you up and into a kiss, much less messy than the one that got the two of you in here, more lazy and loving. When you pull away, you rub your thumb along satoru’s pink lips, not a trace of red in sight. “What the fuck is this stuff made of?” You murmur and Satoru chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“what are you made of, you almost killed me, girl!"  

You laughed, “Hey, you started it.” He pressed another kiss to the side of your lips, then your neck, then kneels down in front of you, his blue eyes twinkling as he looks up at you. You card your fingers through his hair as you smile down at him.

“can I finish it too?"

and then they got banned from the department store.

[bravo666]

mdni • price x f!reader

captain price has a ritual and his men know better than to disturb. every time 141 gets back from an op and rumbles back to hereford, they unload, debrief, file the necessary reports and then some, all that dreary bureaucracy that needs to be done within the first couple hours of touching back onto english soil. and then, at the first opportunity, he fucks off. captain’s privilege, he says.

the others do too—on the town or to the bunks or to their own flats or wherever—but price never joins them. he has his own destination in mind and it’s a solo journey, so quit nosing about trying to find out, sergeant. he’s only ever gone for a few hours, six at the most, before he rolls on back to base, squares his shoulders, and throws himself back into work. at least he always seems a bit lighter when he comes back.

said destination is a pub not one, not two, but three villages over. the further from base, the less likely it is for him to run into one of his men, and he’d just hate it if that happened, would feel like a dog dragging mud in through the garden door, crossing his wires. he might not like it about himself, but john price is a greedy and selfish man, and the pretty little thing that’s been tending bar for the past few years is a morsel that he wants to keep all to himself, cradled in his jaw and savored.

the dingy pub is nondescript and uncreative, a local establishment that’s been around since anyone can remember and hadn’t changed a whit. price found the place back when he was first made captain and started looking for further out watering holes, looking for some peace and quiet away from the places where the recruits drank. he almost wrote the place off his lists of spots before he saw the flustered young bartender duck in for her shift.

since then, he’s been a regular—for a given value of ‘regular’, as much as a military man can be—ever since. started swapping conversation after the third or fourth visit. polite conversation turned friendly, then raucous with laughter, then warm and teasing.

that’s as far as he let’s it go, naturally. with a job like his, he’s married to his work; there’s no room, no time in his life for a sweet little wife, no matter what he dreams at night with his cock fisted in his grip or whose face he happens to see play the role. he tried the whole wife thing once, chased after it, even, and all price has to show for it is an alimony payment set to automatically go out every month.

(his ex-wife couldn’t handle him in the end. she was the type of woman who needed him at every hour to keep her love alive and couldn’t stomach the weeks alone while he was deployed, and even when price was home, she didn’t have an appetite to match his when he slipped himself off his leash. they both jumped into it without looking ahead. such is life.)

so he ignored the hungry need for a woman beside him, and even if he ever did go down that route again, it couldn’t be her. she’s young and bright and untouched by blood. playful flirting and occasional brushes of fingers hovered somewhere plausibly deniable as a service worker buttering up a favorite patron, or—and price only lets this thought loose for a moment before snatching it and shoving it down with a growl—a friend. he’s gone half the year anyway, or something like it. every time he comes, he carries the irrational, ugly fear that in she’s moved on, moved out, got a new job, left the country, got married—

when he shoulders through the door now, sawdust sticking to his boots, his girl’s—because that’s what she is, even if it’s only the sight of her that he lets himself claim and hoard—wiping down glasses behind the sill, the pub just about empty as all the old timers went home. his first thought is that she’s still there, thank god. his second’s that she’s changed up her hair. it looks good. price pointedly ignores the way the sight of her with her new hair and those pretty lips makes him chub up a little.

his girl’s eyes crinkle a little when she looks up toward the door. “john,” she says warmly, and before he’s even seated at his usual spot on the bar, she’s filling him up his favorite pint. “how are you doing, handsome? just got back from saving the world?”

a snarling, hungry, traitorous part of his brain tells him that his wife is being so good, keeping him fed and watered, and the only thing next on her wifely duties is to keep his balls drained. he tells it to go stuff itself.

“still working on it, sweetheart,” price says with a sip. maybe it was worth it, when she asked a while ago why he showed up so irregularly, to tell her that he was SAS, if only for the way she called it after. saving the world. that’d be nice.

this time, though, he notices something else that’s new besides the hairstyle, and it makes his beer taste like dust in his mouth. a glint in the light, on his girl’s left hand.

not really his girl anymore, is she?

price swallows down his mouthful and tries to quell the sudden heat that rises in his veins, a raging anger that feels, inexplicably, like he’s been stolen from. his molars clench together for dear life as he rearranges, tames, quiets himself. it was fine. it was fine! she’s just his bartender, is all. his friend. modern country and whatever, she could go meet whoever, get engaged to whoever, fuck whoever, and if she was happy, then—then price would have to be happy for her.

(she better be happy, he thinks. if whatever little boy she’s found isn’t making her feel like a bloody princess every god damn day then he doesn’t deserve the fingers he touches her with or the cock between his legs—)

this was good, even. with a ring on her finger, price’d always have a reminder that pretty girls didn’t owe him anything, don’t belong to him like a dog with a bone. kill the fantasy, keep his head on the missions. a better soldier. it’s that tightening thought that lets him calm himself enough to say “congratulations are in order, i assume?”

his gi—the—she furrows her brow in confusion, but she follows price’s gaze—how could she not, with him practically burning a hole in her finger with his stare—and laughs. “oh, that,” she says, easy as ever. “no, nothing’s happened.” she wiggles the ring off her finger and sliding it across the counter to price for his inspection.

under his touch, the tell is obvious: it’s plastic, cheap, almost gummy plastic. the faux diamond is cheap acrylic, only close to sparkling because she’s gone through and polished it up. it takes him a moment before he puts it together, but before he does, he briefly becomes so angry that he thinks he might actually kill a civilian for treating her this way.

“bought that online for five quid,” she keeps going. “just to stop some of the patrons from asking questions, or flirting, or, you know, trying to introduce me to their nephews and that kind of thing.”

a decoy ring. a dummy, a shield, something with no actual suitor attached to the other end. price is so relieved that he can feel every muscle in his aching body untense, and it pisses him off because he knows he shouldn’t care this much about his friend’s love life. “smart,” he says, his voice a bit thick before he clears it. “smart. though, you know, sweetheart, you could always try telling them you’re not interested.”

“please, john, you think i haven’t tried?” she shrugs. “no, most of them don’t listen without seeing a little proof that that seat is taken. always thought they could convince me otherwise. the ring shuts up most of them, and the few that still don’t get the hint, i end up having to tell them stories about ‘my husband’ before they piss off.”

the word husband coming from her mouth makes something rumble in price’s chest that’s becoming dangerously difficult to ignore. he tries a chuckle, tries to focus on the feeling of his beard bristling his own cheeks and not the way they would feel against hers, and tries to lighten the mood. “so, what, you just make up stories about this husband of yours? grand tales of romance?”

but she looks away, and—is his girl flustered? she picks up a rag in her hands and starts wiping idly at the counter, like she’s trying to avoid his eyes. “oh, you know,” she says. “i keep it simple. just enough to, er, get them to stop, and consistent, so they can’t pick holes. he’s—he’s in the military. leads a team.”

then, quietly, “he’s out there saving the world.”

the dog slips his leash.

when price finally leaves to make the long drive back to base, his shirt rumpled and his chin wet with slick, he keeps the plastic ring in his back pocket, not bothering to give it back. why would he? she doesn’t need it anymore, because he’s going to buy his girl the real diamonds that she deserves.

[squeakyducky]

Things I find cute that the OM! cast would do

- have a picture of MC inside their wallet

Lucifer, Mammon, Beel, Diavolo

- associate a character they like with MC

Simeon, Satan, Levi, Mammon

- the type to spam MC when they leave them on read

Mammon, Thirteen

- writes a love story based on MC and him

Levi, Simeon, Satan

- MC's personal space is his second home

Asmo, Belphie

- tell dad jokes

Solomon, Diavolo, Raphael

- likes to cook for MC

Luke, Barbatos, Solomon

- likes to cook with MC

Simeon, Solomon, Levi, Satan

- nags MC like a mom

Satan, Luke

- has an album dedicated to MC in their phone

Lucifer, Mammon, Beel, Asmo

[kaiser1ns]

"Baby, move!" it was a fierce battle, no it was a cold-blooded war in which the winner was only one. Neither you nor Itoshi Sae moved from the position you were in, and it was for the last popsicle in the shop. No matter that you call him baby, mi amor, boyfie, husband, hot tamale, grumpy little kitten, darling, dumpling, the light of my life... You could continue, but none of those sweet nicknames worked. Suddenly he was not as lovely as he was texting you some hours ago when he returned from Spain but you didn't expect any less.

"I saw it first," he said flatly, reaching for the popsicle but you closed the freezer before he could take away your treasure.

"You touched it first, but I spotted it from across the aisle," you shot back, your hands gripping the freezer lid as if that would solidify your claim.

The old lady at the cashier chuckled softly, observing the two of you bicker over a single popsicle as though the fate of the world rested on it. Her warm gaze softened as she spoke, "Why don’t you two share, dear? You seem like such a lovely couple."  

Both you and Sae whipped your heads toward her, synchronized in your rejection. "We’re not a couple!"  

The old lady just laughed, shaking her head knowingly. "Oh, sure you’re not," she said with a teasing smile, returning to her task of organizing the counter.  

You turned back to Sae, who raised his eyebrow at you, slightly judging you for denying that you are not a couple, yet.

“Alright, fine, mi amor,” you drawled, leaning into the pet names just to get under his skin. “Let’s flip a coin. The winner takes the popsicle.”  

“Not a chance,”  Before you could reply, the patter of tiny footsteps interrupted your standoff. A little kid skipped to the freezer and snatched the popsicle you and Sae had been fighting for the past five minutes.  

Both of you froze, staring as the child walked away, turning back and poking his tongue at the two of you. Just like Sae did as a kid...

You broke the silence first with a groan, letting your head fall against Sae’s chest. He stood there before his hand wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“Guess we both lost,” he murmured, without that teasing and nagging tone that made you want to provoke him further.  

“Thanks, genius. It was more than obvious,” you muttered, glaring at the child’s retreating figure before looking up at Sae. “This is your fault, you know. If you’d just shared—”  

“If you’d just let me have it—”  

The bickering started again, but this time, the old lady’s laughter grew louder as she listened to you two quarrel. “Such a cute young couple,” she murmured again, shaking her head as you and Sae continued to argue like an old married pair, still standing in front of the now-empty freezer. As you both turned to leave, the old lady called out after you. "Come back soon, lovebirds!"

This time, neither of you corrected her.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[zephyrchama]

Leviathan aims to gradually raise your affection meter by bringing you one (1) small gift each day. He will get you something nice on occasion, but those presents are typically reserved for special events such as birthdays and holidays, during which any increases in affection are doubled.

You once mentioned a sticker at a discount store looked cool and he proceeded to gift you that sticker 26 days in a row. He called it min-maxing.

[d0gtoothjones]

punisher

[pythonmoth]

Soap who gets captured and brainwashed so badly he only takes order from whoever messed him up, no longer recognizing the team

Ghost who calls him Johnny, nearly in tears because he thought he was dead, and gets a bullet on his thigh because nobody can call him that

Price, who tries to tackle him to the ground but Soap is not the same anymore, so he reacts immediately and nearly breaks the Captain's neck

Gaz, who really tries to talk to him, rifle aimed to Soap's chest and face contorted with pain at seeing his friend like this, and only gets hit with Soap's gun, passing out

And you, at home, unassuming, still sleeping with his pillow in your arms. grieving alone in a home filled with memories of him

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 1 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 1: I Love You

Synopsis: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things. Though you and Jack parted ways romantically, the bond you shared remained, shaped by a past neither of you could forget. With Robby, it was different. Loving him was easy and he loved you deeply in return. But when Robby walked away, haunted by his own unresolved pain, your world shattered. Still, you continued to show up - for your patients, your colleagues and somehow for yourself. Until a patient presents with injuries that mirror your own past trauma and the unspoken tension between you, Jack and Robby resurfaces, threatening to unravel everything you’ve tried to move past.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies and heartbreak >>> Girlies this will be super sad,,,with some comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1079

A/n: The Pitt and our saddest boys have literally pulled me out of tumblr retirement!! If love triangles aren't your thing, I apologize in advance... Couldn't decide between the two, now they're both the reader's exes... Bon appétit.

Next Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me

Your breaths are ragged, uneven. You try to steady yourself on the gurney, but everything feels unreal. Desperate, you search for something to anchor you in reality. You glance down at your hands. They look strange, pressing into the patient’s chest in a rhythm you know all too well.

A familiar voice cuts through the haze, but you don’t react.

The voice comes again, "Y/N?"

“Fuck, Robby! I’ve got it okay?!” You snap, your hands moving on autopilot.

Shit. You really didn’t mean that.

A few faint gasps from the staff break the silence. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of a nightmare. Robby used to do that, be your lifeline when the terrors threatened to pull you under.

You huff a shaky breath, searching his eyes for something, though you're not sure what. But you find it. He doesn’t say anything, yet somehow, comfort floods you. And guilt, so much guilt.

Robby steps closer, arms crossed, pressing his lips together before he tries again. Softer, like a whisper in the night, "Are we ready to call it?"

The question snaps you back to the present. "No. No!" You share a quick glance with Jack, who is working the patient with you.

"Okay. Hold compressions", Robby says gently, but firm.

You comply, everyone's eyes fixed on the monitor, dread setting in.

"Still in asystole", you hear Donnie behind you.

Jack motions for you to switch out. You step back and he resumes.

"Let’s push one more round of epi", you beg, eyes bouncing between Jack and Robby.

Robby nods. Mateo pushes another amp, as you take over compressions for another round.

Robby checks his watch. "That’s it. Stop compressions", a familiar sadness in his voice.

You comply eventually, but cannot bring yourself to look up.

The air is thick, suffocating.

Jack calls it, knowing you can't. "Time of death, 12:36".

A breath escapes you that you didn’t realize you were holding. You look at the woman lying before you and see yourself.

Still. Sleeping. Almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the tube down her throat. Gently, you touch her hand. "I’m so sorry", you whisper.

"Why don’t we take a minute and then debrief with Kiara?", Robby suggests. The nurses and techs leave the room quietly.

You stay, frozen. Jack and Robby don’t move either.

"I can do the notification, Y/N...", Robby offers softly.

"I'll do it", you counter too harshly.

Robby and Jack exchange a look. You pretend you don’t see it.

Jack opens the door to the family room, holding it as you step inside cautiously, Robby following behind. You all sit, facing the husband of your deceased patient.

The weight of what you’re about to say hangs heavy in the air. You wait, just one more minute, as if delaying it could change the outcome.

You study the husband's eyes: fear, hope, maybe both. Every movement feels deliberate. You're about to shatter this man's world. And he will hate you for it.

You begin to speak, your words soft and measured.

Dana watches you through the glass doors. The husband's sobs echo through the hallway, the sound raw and aching.

"Do you think she was-" The husband can't finish the thought.

"Scared?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, then nods.

"No", you answer gently.

You feel Jack and Robby’s eyes on you, their sadness palpable. You don’t look at them, but the image of Robby is burned into your mind. The lines on his forehead deepening, his eye twitching at the painful memory, his jaw tight as if holding back words he can’t say.

Jack is harder to ignore. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar, like a silent plea for forgiveness. You remember how his lips press together, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, like he’s exhaling a grief too big to contain. You've seen him break and mend over the years, unaware of the love he still carries for you.

You lean in, your voice soft: "I believe she thought about her loved ones. How much you made her laugh with your silly jokes. How she loved you and how deeply you loved her in return."

The husband lets out a strangled sob. He tries hard to keep it in, but it escapes anyway. "I don't know..."

You pause.

"I do."

He meets your gaze and it hits him.

Somehow, him realising that you're speaking from experience triggers something buried deep inside you.

Your pulse quickens, your vision blurs. You excuse yourself with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Our social worker, Kiara, will talk to you about the next steps. Again, I’m so very sorry."

Jack and Robby watch you leave, grief and guilt washing over them all over again.

You just need to be somewhere else, away from their eyes, away from the memories.

Your confession still hangs heavy in the air. Robby and Jack don’t speak, there’s nothing to say, only the fear creeping in that something isn’t right.

They exchange a brief look before moving in sync towards the stairwell, urgency in their steps, knowing the one place you go when the world feels too heavy, when you need to breathe.

But when they open the door to the roof, the air is empty. No familiar figure standing behind the railing, staring out at the city. Just the harsh wind and the distant noise of the world below.

Robby's eyes dart across the rooftop, taking in the emptiness. His chest tightens, panic rising, “She’s not here.”

Jack's thoughts spiral back to the moment they saw you leave the room. The confession. The look in your eyes. The sudden shift in your energy, the weight of something you hadn’t shared before.

Robby rushes towards the railing, peeking over the edge. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility, but the image of you disappearing over the ledge flashes in his mind and for a moment, it paralyzes him.

"Robby, stop", Jack's voice is sharp, his eyes scan the space around them, desperately looking for anything that makes sense. But he can't bring himself to look over the edge. He won’t. Not yet.

Jack's been through this with you before, he's seen you at your lowest. And vice versa. But tonight, something's different.

“Where would she go?” Robby asks, voice barely a whisper, now full of dread.

"She wouldn’t just leave. Not like this." Jack's voice trembles, trying to convince himself more than Robby.

Thanks for reading hehe. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's pretty heavy, but sets the tone for the rest of the series. Pls come back for Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist. ♡

[woozivrsefactry]

random kim mingyu bf texts [crack + suggestive + fluff]

[merlucide]

Dan heng is literally your big-complicated word translator—like you’d be all squinted eyes and curled lips, just completely lost.

“The diameter of the interstellar conduit is undergoing severe destabilization! The inter-dimensional feedback loop has a high likelihood of triggering spontaneous elemental resonance!”

‘Just what was this guy saying?!’ your mind screeched, each word passing by like static in your brain.

The engineer, frantically pacing infront of you and Dan heng, continues to ramble, his words a blur of technical jargon

Dan Heng leans down slightly, his breath ghosting just above your ear. “If they don’t fix it, there’s a high chance the station could explode,” he whispers, before straightening back into his neutral stance.

You nod slowly, mouthing, ‘ohhh, okay’ before leaning up to whisper, “Why couldn’t he just say that?!”

Dan Heng looks at the engineer, then back at you, his tone calm and steady. “The Express will assist. No need to worry.”

The engineer visibly relaxes, nodding as he moves on to other tasks. You follow Dan Heng, giving him an exasperated but fond glance. “It’s so unnecessary…”

Dan Heng’s lips twitch in a slight hint of a smile

You can always count on him to make sense of the over complicated nonsense~♡

dan heng x us is cannon yall and this is so us yall wym

made March 28th 2025