#and there's nothing you can bloody do about it despite knowing that it's the same thing that will take her away from you way too soon

[honeybeegashii]

Feral Devotion 2

⋆˚꩜｡Note: Thank you guys so much for the support for the first part! It was heartwarming to see all the likes, reblogs, and comments. I quickly cooked this one up, shout-out to my boyfriend for being my beta reader.

Summary: A dangerous hunter is drawn to your fragility and quiet nature, seeing you as something precious and divine. Despite the vast differences in your cultures and the Yautja's violent instincts, he treats you with care

He’s not supposed to want you.

Not like that. Not like this.

You’re quiet where they roar. You flinch from the kind of touch that means affection to them—too close to violence, too hot, too heavy. You’re human. You’re wrong.

And still, he watches you like you hung the moons. Like there’s something divine etched in the fragile lines of your body, something sacred about the way you curl in on yourself instead of baring your teeth. You learned early what he is—a hunter bred for war, death, and blood under his claws.

You’ve seen what he does to the things he wants to keep. How rough their courtship is. How bloody. But when he touches you. He’s careful.

Too big for your world. Too dangerous to breathe the same air as you. And yet, he steps soft when he enters the space you call home (a cage, a cell, a corner of a ship lit by humming low-tech lights because their stars are too bright, their walls too raw).

He brings you things.

Not flowers. Not chocolates. No, he’s not stupid. He brings you kills. The skull of a serpent-beast. A feathered claw from a world that burns too hot for your lungs. Trophies, cleaned with his own hands. Left at your door. He leaves them like a stray cat with a bleeding mouse, proud and anxious, waiting for praise. You told him once, voice shaking. “I’m not like your women...”

And he growled. Not in anger. Not in threat. But something low, something that made your stomach twist, your spine press against the cold metal behind you. Like the idea excited him. He tilted his head. Clicked low in his throat. Moved closer. Towered.

“No,” he rasped, his translator lagging half a breath behind the guttural music of his voice. “You are mine.” You're not ideal. Not Blooded. Not even worthy by their standards.

But his. And maybe that’s worse. Because it means he wants you. Means you’ve been marked by a creature whose love looks like possession, whose tenderness comes with claws that can cut you open if you flinch too fast.

You don’t even know how it started. The way he began inserting himself between you and anything that moved too fast. The way he tracked your scent was like it was a command, not a curiosity. The way his eyes followed your throat when you swallowed, was slow and fragile and breakable.

Sometimes you think he doesn’t even want to breed you. That the idea of touching you would be too much, like holding a moth in a closed fist, terrified of the ruin. Other times, you wake up with his shadow looming in your doorway, watching you sleep like he’s debating it.

Like he wants it. Not the act, but the claiming.

And what do you do when something like that wants you? When something that could tear your spine from your body with a flick of his wrist chooses to kneel instead? You let him bring his trophies. You let him watch. You start dreaming about what those claws might feel like pressed just right. And slowly, slowly, you start to wonder—not if he’ll claim you, but when.

He doesn’t understand why you flinch when he calls you mine.

Doesn’t get why your voice rises when you say, “I’m not a thing,” or why your hands tremble after you push him away. Soft, but still rejection.

Because where he’s from, possession is not cruelty. It’s protection.

It’s a promise. It’s a claim burned brighter than blood and louder than any vow.

In his culture, nothing is more sacred than what you keep. Trophies are not just reminders of conquest, they are proof of survival. The victory, and the value.

And you? You’re his most precious kill-not-kill.

He didn’t mount your skull on a wall. He didn’t skin you and hang your pelt next to his Xenomorph marks. Instead, he keeps you fed and clothed you. He stood between you and his kin like a wall of living flame.

You think that’s captivity.

To him, it’s worship.

You come from a world of soft language and softer boundaries. Consent, communication, compromise. He doesn’t speak that tongue. Not naturally. Not easily. His language was forged in the heat of combat and scarcity. It is made of action, not words.

His society teaches that worth is earned in blood. That the weak must be culled or kept. And he kept you.

You don’t know how many he had to fight for that. You don’t know the way they laughed. The way they mocked him for guarding a soft, broken-boned little thing like it was a sacred heirloom. They called him feral. Called you a pet. Told him you wouldn’t last a season before you snapped under pressure like wet bone.

You snapped, yes, but not in the way they thought. You bent around him. Learned the rhythm of his rage. You stopped crying when he snarled and started staring him down instead. You learned how to say no in a language with no word for refusal—and he started listening.

That’s the thing no one warned him about. That humans infect. That their fragility is contagious. That their softness spreads.

Now, he waits before he touches. Watches you sleep instead of curling around you like a beast. Tries not to show his teeth when you talk back. (He fails sometimes. But he tries.)

He still calls you mine. But he says it differently now.

Previous

[oldermenfucker]

You’re losing me | Dr. Robby

summary: he doesn’t notice how his behavior in The Pitt is making you fall from his arms, until the consequences of his actions catch up with him.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Robby doesn’t even realize he’s being a dick until it’s a tad bit too late, fem!reader, resident!reader, Abbot!reader (yes she is Jack’s younger sister), age gap (she’s late 20s/early 30s & Robby early 50s), p in v sex, lots of praise, mentions of blood & trauma (it’s The Pitt soooo), English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 9.8k+

an: hiiii so this is my first fic in this fandom hopefully you guys like this!!! More fics of our gorgeous Dr. Daddy and his bestie our other Dr. Daddy will be coming your way<333

Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕✨

You hate the quiet days of ER, as peaceful as it can get through. You crave the adrenaline rush you get from a trauma running through the doors, half bloody and half dead, but today even those cases can’t make your blood pressure as high as the scene in front of you does.

  Collins chuckles at something Robby says, snorting and putting her hand up in surrender, patting his biceps before she leaves him alone. And him? He smiles back, his wrinkles around his eye deepening as his eyes follow her.

He is doing exactly what he labeled as ‘unprofessional’ behind closed doors with her, making you mad at him. He told you you must keep your relationship a secret or it would turn into The Pitt’s hottest gossip, and he didn’t want that, and given how most of the nurses and doctors know about his past relationship with Collins, it upsets you beyond belief.

You took this residency program to be with your brother and Robby, and also to get a steady job in the same hospital. Jack helped you tremendously with your transfer, making sure everything was perfect for you to take the morning shifts with your boyfriend, all so you could spend time with him more often.

  But now, you are rethinking your decision to the point of no return. It has been months since you started your shifts here, and from the very beginning, Robby treated you like shit. Always hard on you, always criticizing your diagnosis, always on your back with a harsh comment.

  You played it off like everyone else did, making sure to nod and say ‘yes, sir’ and move towards the next patient. But every word stung, and when you would tell him at night when you cuddled in his bed, he would brush it off and act like nothing happened.

  It was fine at first, or at least you tried to deny what it truly was, but now, seeing him being so lighthearted with everyone in a slow shift while he barks orders at you left and right tears your heart into pieces, and worse, the smiles are always thrown in the direction of every doctor and nurse but you.

  You look away as best as you can, trying to find a good case as you lean on Robby’s workstation, tapping your fingers in a rhythm as you scan the trauma board, biting your lip as you hear his footsteps approaching.

  “Dr. Abbot,” he says, standing behind you while he looks between you and the board, “What are you looking for?”

  “Something to take the edge off,” you don’t mean to sound snappy, but the words come out harsher than intended, and you take a deep breath because with the uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you are sure he has raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to come up with a snarky comment, “I’ll take the biker, Santos is with me.”

  “Good,” he nods, pushing his fists into his pockets, but you don’t bother yourself to even glance at him, pushing past him as you drop your stethoscope around your neck, calling for Santos to follow you to the trauma bay.

  You do not turn around to see Robby’s reaction; he is probably stunned by the way you ignored him. You have never done that despite how he treats you; it just never settled right inside you to be mean to him, but that was enough to set your mood off for the rest of the shift.

  “Alright, what do we have here?” One question, and you get bombarded with answers, and you get your hands on the patient to stabilize him. Santos answers your questions and helps you with everything you might need.

  You are light on your feet, keeping everyone in check in the trauma room to make sure the best treatment is given to the poor man who had crashed his bike. Santos listens closely, being snarky and witty about her comebacks, but helps you as best as she can, nonetheless.

  “How’s the patient?” You watch as Santos starts to intubate the biker, her hands slightly shaking, ignoring Robby’s presence as he gloves in and moves next to stand next to you, listening to the nurses update him on the patient’s status.

  “I’m in!” Santos beams, looking up at you, and you smile back, giving her a quick thumbs up before you turn around, suddenly chest to chest with Robby.

  He looks down at you, a silent question hanging in the air between you as he keeps staring back, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You take a deep breath in response, taking off your gloves roughly, making a loud smacking sound of plastic echo in the trauma room.

  “He’s stable and ready to go to the OR,” you fist the gloves in a ball, pulling the white gown off in a hurry, taking a step around Robby to avoid his burning stare, “Santos helped a lot.”

  “You called the shots without telling me first.” It’s not a question; it is a statement, and he does not look happy at all. “You are still a resident, you have two more years to go! Why are you being so reckless?”

  “The patient was dying, Dr. Robby, I had to do what was necessary—“

  “You were unsupervised—“

  “She wasn’t,” Collins steps into the room, looks between the two doctors with a small smile, pointing at Santos, who stands awkwardly next to Collins, pouting slightly and rocking on the balls of her feet, “Dr. Santos came to me and told me about this case.”

  You gape at her, fighting off a small grateful smile before feeling your heart thumping in your ribcage as if it’s ready to jump out; you are angry at him, furious even, and Robby is just as hot-headed if not more. You can see the dark glare in his eyes as he looks between Collins and you, finally settling them on you.

  “Dr. Collins is also a resident, you must consult an Attending. Don’t ever do that again,” he whips out his own gloves, his usual warm brown eyes hold nothing but anger, “You are lucky he is stable.”

  “I am not lucky, Dr. Robby.” You take another step closer, feeling his hot breath fanning against your face, “I am a good doctor, hell, even a great doctor. I can do it on my own.”

  “Trauma coming through in two minutes! Drowning victim!” Dana’s shout stops Robby from firing back a response to you.

  “We’re not done yet,” he points his finger at you, scoffing when you look up, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone. With that, Robby jogs toward the gurney Langdon is pulling into another trauma room, leaving you, Santos, and Collins alone.

  “Walk with me, Dr. Abbot?” Collins smiles, muttering to Santos to go find another patient before she waits for you to join her at the door, watching you closely as you slam your gloves and gown into the trash, using the sanitizer machine on the wall before you give her a quick smile.

  “Sure.”

  You both walk to the nurse station, standing shoulder to shoulder while you look at the trauma board. You are nervous; how can you not be? Collins is Robby’s ex. She is gorgeous, intelligent, and a very talented doctor. But what is making you shake slightly is how she stepped in to save you from your boyfriend’s scolding.

  “Thank you…” You mumble quietly, or as quietly as you can in a chaotic ER, giving her a grateful yet awkward smile as well.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging before she continues, “I’ve been in your shoes a few years ago. It’s exhausting.”

  “What?” You ask, confused and dumbfounded, your lips parting in surprise when she side eyes you playfully, shaking her head and laughing slowly, “What do you mean? What are you laughing at, Dr. Collins?”

  “You guy are not as subtle as you think you are,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looks back at the board, squeezing your shoulder, “I can see how you look at him, I used to do the same, having high hopes that one day he’ll quit being harsh on me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to play it off cool, acting as if you have no idea what she is saying, but Collins sees straight through your lie, raising her eyebrows at you with boredom. You sigh, dropping your head on her shoulder, “Fine! Yes, he’s my boyfriend, or at least I thought he was. It is… tiresome to deal with his mean words every day.”

  “He’s been riding you for so long,” she sighs too, patting your arm gently, “It’s no excuse, but… he thinks if he pushes you away, he can maintain his professional standards or whatever he calls them. He’s done it before, and he’s doing it again.”

  “I know what he is trying to do,” you shake your head, exhaling shakily, “He doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s dating his resident, and Jack Abbot’s younger sister, so he goes on a spiral to be mean to me and put a distance between us.”

  “Well, he’s doing a poor job at both,” she snorts, letting go of you to reach for an iPad, going through different cases to choose one for you. “He is an idiot, you just have to learn to live with it if you wanna work here.”

  “Sometimes I think he hates me.”

  “Hey, no—“

  “What are you two up to?” Dana interrupts Heather, leaning on the station behind her as she looks between the two of you, “What has he done this time?”

  “He’s being unreasonable to Dr. Abbot.”

  “Not unreasonable, but… just how an attending with a ‘Robinavitch’ last name would be,” you try to crack a joke, but Dana winces and gives you a sympathetic look.

  “C’mon, I’ve known him more than your experiences combined. He is being a dick to you because he is scared, give him hell for it, alright? Now go play doctors until I knock some sense into your loverboy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Collins says, pointing at one of the trauma rooms, “South fourteen, Twenty-four years old male with a twisted ankle — probably sprained. Take this, Dr. Abbot, it’ll give you a break until you are well enough to come back.”

  “Thank you,” you say, grabbing the iPad from her hands, nodding as you walk towards the patient’s room, head swirling with different thoughts about what those two women just told you.

  You are aware of what Robby is doing, or at least you think you do. It makes sense to some extent; he is a professional man, a doctor who runs The Pitt and barely survives every day, and yet, he gives you the worst treatment out of everyone because he doesn’t want to reveal your relationship to the world.

  And it breaks your heart to tolerate his mean words and being the punching bag to his sour moods, receiving all the blows just because you are in arm’s reach — what makes it worse is that he does not even realize how bad his words are, and when you confront him at night after his long hot shower, he only shrugs and tells you if Dana found out about you, then everyone can.

  Excuse after excuse.

  You roll your shoulders back, knocking on the door as you enter the trauma room, finding Princess going through the patient’s file and waiting for you to join them.

  “Good morning, I’m Dr. Abbot!” You smile and get to work, sitting on the chair next to the bed as you examine the guy’s ankle, looking for inflammation and bruising as you try to distract him from the pain.

  “Well, you’re lucky it’s not broken,” you nod, taking your gloves off before turning toward Princess, “Send him to radiology to get an X-ray, I’m sure it’s only a sprain, but let’s take a look anyway.”

  “Dr. Abbot!” Mel barges inside the room, panting slightly as she looks at you with wide eyes, “New patient! Forty-five-year-old female with a head concussion and a broken stick in her upper arm. She fell on the fence while she was trying to clean the windows of her house.”

  “Let’s go,” you stand up, dropping the gloves you used on the previous patient into the bin, sanitizing your hands before running towards the gurney, finding Mohan and Robby discussing different procedures, “How is she?”

  “Pupils dilated, unresponsive—“ you try to focus on what Samira is saying, you are, but Robby’s gaze moves from the patient to you, watching you closely as you and Mohan start to stabilize the patient, but it is awfully hard to not get distracted with how intense his presence is.

  “She’s having a heart attack—“ you rush to lower the back of the bed, flattening the patient before scissoring her dress, baring her chest to Mel to put the pads on, Mohan increasing the voltage to two hundred, waiting for everyone to step back, “Clear!”

  The patient does not respond to the shock. Mohan and Robby work together to keep her blood pressure high, but all of a sudden, the lines of the monitor go flat, and the beeping stops.

  “Asystolic…” Mel whispers, standing next to you as Mohan takes off the pads, waiting for her Attending’s orders.

  “Start compressions!”

  You put one knee on the bed, interlocking your fingers before starting to push on the patient’s chest, huffing with each move as everyone waits in the room with bated breath.

  “Hold compressions,” Robby tells you, waiting to see if the heart restarts, but when he sees the flat line again, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, “Push an epi and resume compressions again.”

  You begin to push down on her chest, body, and shoulders, moving with each press, trying to keep your breathing in check while you look at Robby to say something, anything.

  But the line falls flat again after you stop, but before you can bend down to restart CPR, Robby’s voice stops you, “She’s dead,” he announces, looking down at his watch before he exhales deeply, “16:38…” 

  You step down from the bed, throwing your head back with your hands on your hips, shaking your head as you silently mourn the loss of your patient.

  “Doctor Abbot, a word?” 

  Your fingers tighten at your hips, and when you look back at him, you find him already leaving towards the break room, not even waiting for you to follow him. With a scoff, you move behind him, ignoring Mel and Samira’s confused stares.

  “What is it—“

  “What was that?” He stops as soon as you both are in the break room, pressing his lips into a thin line as he intertwines his fingers behind his neck, letting out a humourless chuckle.

  “What was what, Robby? I did what you told me—“ you try to answer as best as possible, but when he turns around, his chocolate eyes overflowing with disbelief.

  “Who does a compression like that? They were too weak, not deep enough, and they were not helping! Just a waste of time on a patient we could have saved—“

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” You raise your voice, pointing to his chest before fisting your hands and lock your hands next to your body, “They were fine, just as they should have been! Don’t put this loss on me, she had a head concussion and god knows how many wood chips in her bloodstream. We didn’t even get to check that—“

  “You are messing up real bad today.”

  “This case was supervised by you, Doctor Robinavitch,” you spit the words out, gone the calm girl who would brush his horrible words off, now replaced with a furious woman, “How hypocritical of you to say belittling isn’t a good way of teaching and yet, you are insulting and belittling me, your girlfriend, Robby!”

  “This is my workplace, I am your Attending, not your goddamn boyfriend,” he replies, his tone dangerously low, and for the first time, he seems to be taken back by his own outburst, dropping his head as he takes a long breath.

  “Fine,” your lips quiver, voice breaking slightly, which makes Robby’s head snap upwards and his eyes widen as he realizes what unbelievable damage he has done, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Wait, honey—“

  “Don’t.”

  With one last glance, you march out of the room toward the nurse’s station, looking for Dana to see if you can clock out earlier. You cannot stay in this place any longer, it is eating you alive and tearing your sanity apart.

  “Have you seen Dana?” As soon as you see her walking with Collins, you approach her with teary eyes, nails digging harshly into your palms, “Dana, I need out.”

  “What happened to you, kid?” She asks, putting her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing your arms up and down, “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

  Heather only smiles and reaches to pat your back, shaking her head as she watches Dana guide you towards the ambulance bay, turning to glare at Robby, who just stepped out of the break room.

  You don’t have the strength to keep your tears from falling as soon as Dana leads you out. You cry softly, wiping the tears as they stream down your cheeks, melting into Dana’s motherly embrace.

  “I’m sorry—“

  “Shh, you’re okay, kid,” she wraps her arms around you tightly, holding your face to her shoulder as you cry out, “I’m gonna kick his ass, don’t worry.”

  You cackle a little, squeezing her before letting go, allowing her to cup your face in her hands, giving you a soft, defeated look before she starts talking.

  “You are a great doctor, alright? One of our best residents, don’t let a man fuck it up,” she holds your head straight, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her, “He is a dick, I know that—“

  “There’s a but coming and I don’t like it.” You try to move away from her, but she keeps your head locked in place, her gaze turning serious.

  “But…” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, but she only cracks a smile and continues, “He is lost. It’s been so long since he has felt like this. The last time was with Heather, and let me tell you it was just as bad in the hospital.”

  “So he treats his girlfriend like shit until she gives up?” Your voice shakes again, finally freeing yourself from her grip, pacing in the ambulance bay, “I hate how he says to remain professional, yet all he does is complain and belittle me for my medical decisions and when I bring it up he says it’s all empty fucking words and he doesn’t mean it!”

  “He doesn’t mean any of it, I’m sure—“

  “I’m done, Dana,” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, looking at her with eyes full of sorrow. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Look at me,” she raises your head with a finger under your chin, her tone dead serious, “I know it must be exhausting, but do you want to know what it is that makes the thing you have so special and worth the effort?”

  “What?” 

  “He is in love with you,” she smiles, bringing you into her arms again, rocking you back and forth as you smell her hospital-induced scent, “I have never seen him like this.”

  “It doesn’t make it okay for him to insult me… he said,” you hiccup on your sob, “He said that when we are here he isn’t my ‘goddamn boyfriend’ and… he said it like the word repulsed him.”

  “He’s such an idiot,” she groans, watching in confusion as you reach for your phone, pulling it out before you call someone, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling Jack.”

  “No, ah uh, nope,” she shakes her head, giving you a disapproving look, but she knows how hard Robby’s words must be, and they definitely have taken a toll on you and your relationship. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid.”

  “Too late for that,” you sigh, tapping your feet on the ground as you wait for your brother to answer, “Jack, answer the fucking phone.”

  “Hmm?” 

  “Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you scoff, throwing your hand up when he groans at your voice. “Be at least a bit excited to hear my voice, Jack.”

  “The day I do that you’ll bury me six feet deep,” Jack says on the other side of the phone, voice raspy from the deep sleep he must have had, “Usually texting me fills the hole in your miserable life, sister, how bad is it this time that you needed to call?”

  “I…” you try to say it, you really do, but the words get stuck inside your throat, a slow whine breaks past your lips, alerting your brother on the phone.

  “Hey, hey! What’s up?” His usual sarcastic demeanor fades away, his voice shifting into unimaginable concern, “Talk to me, kid. Are you okay?”

  “I…” you suck in a sharp breath, clearing your throat as you look at Dana smoking a cigarette next to you, “No, I’m not.”

  “Are you physically hurt? Do I need to come? What the fuck’s happened, kiddo?” You can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on his pants to bolt through the door and get himself to the hospital.

  “No and yes,” you sit on the edge of the pavement, “I think I wanna move back in with you—“

  “What the fuck?” He says with so much love, you nearly melt at the spot, “What happened? Did he do something? Do I need to break his nose?”

  “You love him more than you love me, so it doesn’t work like that,” you chuckle, sighing softly as you listen to him grumble and put his prosthetic leg on, “But… yeah, I can’t handle it anymore, I think I’ll move back in with you if you’re okay with it.”

  “Of course, kid, whatever you want,” you hear him zip up his jacket, walking towards the door of his apartment to come and get you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

  “He’s so mean to me on our shifts, I can’t bear to be the only person he speaks to like that. It’s affecting my practices and my fucking sanity,” you drop your head between your arms, back hunching uncomfortably, “He acts more lovingly with Collins than he does with me and it upsets me so much.”

  “Listen up,” he locks the door and walks to the elevator, “He is an ass for whatever reason he must have, but I know you, and I know him. You don’t deserve to be the one on whom he takes out his frustration, and I know you’ve tried to talk it out with him, but he’s probably too far into his head to listen to the voice of reason. I’m gonna come and get you so we can talk.”

  “Okay, call me when you get here, I’m gonna go see a few patients before I clock out, love you.”

  “Love you, too, kiddo. Stay away from him.”

  “Will do my best,” you say and hang up, shrugging when Dana gives you her significant look, “What now?”

  “Nothing, just you’re too sweet and caring. Robby better get his head outta the water and see what he’s taking for granted.”

  You chuckle, shoving your phone back into your pocket, stretching your arms before getting ready to get back into the hellhole you chose to spend the rest of your residency in, Dana following you after she puts out her cigarette with the tip of her sneakers.

  “Let’s hope it’s not too late for that.”

  •••••

  You barely manage to handle a few patients for the next half hour without running into Robby, stabling, and helping with the triage from time to time until Jack gets here to pick you up.

  “I’m gonna go…” You announce to Dana and Collins, sitting down to finish one last report and head out, “I… I think I might take night shifts from now on.”

  “What?”

  “C’mon, no, that’s a stretch—“ Heather says, sitting down on the rolling chair and moving it to sit next to you, “We need you here. You’re an amazing doctor, besides every shift needs an Abbot at most.”

  “Yeah, well, the whole point of getting into the morning shifts was to learn from and spend time with Robby. Now that went down the fucking drain,” you look at Heather, your tone clipped and exhausted, “He is throwing a year and half relationship away for… whatever reasons. I don’t have to tolerate it anymore.”

  “Please, reconsider this,” Dana jumps in, leaning over the station, “Go for now, take tomorrow off, and talk with Jack.”

  “Will do— and my job’s done here! I’ll see you when I take the night shifts from you,” You smile, hugging both of them quickly before you go to the lockers, grabbing your belongings before you reply to Jack’s ‘I’m here, knucklehead’ with a quick thanks.

  You don’t look behind you as you bolt to the exit of the ED, not hearing Robby’s footsteps following you as you make your way to the park in front of the hospital, seeing Jack’s truck waiting for you.

  “Wait—“

  You don’t. You can’t. If you stay one more minute here, you will lose your mind. You pick up your pace, ignoring the calls of your name as you walk faster, sighing in relief when Jack steps down from his truck, but as soon as you reach him, Robby grabs your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to ground you.

  “Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes wide in anticipation, chest heaving rapidly, as if he is imagining all these, “Your shift isn’t over yet…?”

  “I can’t continue working on a shift that my Attending has no respect for me,” you turn around, looking at him dead in the eyes but the tears betray you sooner than you expected, “I have already told Jack I’ll switch to night shifts with him and he said he’ll sign it off for me—“

  “I did?” Jack whispers, raising his eyebrow at you as he glances between you and Robby.

  “Don’t do this, darling, look at me—“ Robby cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

  “I need time! You clearly don’t like me enough to be a decent human being to me on our shifts! I chose to stay with you, to learn from you and be with you during the hard days but you are fucking unbelievable!”

  “Alright, alright,” Jack interrupts when he sees Robby’s glassy eyes, and it is only a matter of time he will breakdown in front of you — something that has never happened before — so he puts his hand on Robby’s back, “I’ll take her home for now, brother. Both of you need some time away from each other.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Robby replies hopefully, gently stroking your arm as he stares into your eyes, waiting for any sign of forgiveness, but when he sees none, he nods and steps away.

  You miss the warmth of his grip immediately, but the ache in your chest is far too great to push everything aside and cave in. You need this time off, you must think and come up with a solution. Perhaps the night shift might help you take your mind off him.

  “I’m off tomorrow,” you reply, wiping the tear that falls on your cheek quickly, turning your back to the men who are looking at you attentively, “I just need some space.”

  “Okay…”

  “Alright,” Jack hugs Robby, patting his back, “I think you fucked up big time, brother. Let me talk to her and see what happens, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Robby nods, head hanging low as he watches you get inside the truck, sighing deeply before he says his goodbye to Jack and leaves, running a hand through his hair while he walks away.

  “Talk, kid,” Jack starts the truck, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you only stifle your sobs and look down at your hands, squeezing your eyes shut, “Only the senior Abbot gets to be the traumatized sad one. So… “

  “He is… a lot, but I thought I could handle it,” you wipe the tears, resting your elbow on the window’s edge, watching how Jack starts turning the wheel and drives the car out of the parking, “Hell, I was handling it, but I didn’t know he would turn into such a short tempered and spiteful person only towards me. He even…” you choke on your sob before you continue, “He even treats Gloria better than me, can you imagine it? He criticizes every diagnosis I make, every order I give, every single pill I prescribe, but it’s just me, his girlfriend…”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack sighs, stopping the car when the light turns red, reaching to hold your hand, his hazel eyes finding your teary ones. He shakes his head slightly, his heart clenching at the sight of you tittering at the edge of a breakdown before he pulls you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, kissing your forehead as the two of you wait for the light to turn green, “He is being a dick to you because he is scared… he did the same thing to Collins but… It’s pretty different this time. I know it, I can see it, he is afraid of losing you more than losing himself.”

  “It doesn’t make sense!” You hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes, “Can’t he see that being so-so harsh on me leads to exactly what he fears? He is losing me, Jack, and I hate it. I don’t want him to lose me, but every day I spend in the ER with him, I feel him slipping away from my fingers slowly. I don’t wanna lose him either.”

  Jack keeps quiet, kissing the crown of your head once or twice as he starts driving again, letting you tell him everything, opening your heart to him.

  “I saw how he was with Heather years ago before I even began to like him,” you say, no longer crying, just voicing your feelings in a numb tone while your heart aches for some sort of relief, “And I thought we were different, I thought he changed, but… maybe there is no hope for us either.”

  “He loves you,” Jack replies, “He loved Heather too, but… he is in love this time.”

  “How are you so sure?” You ask, straightening your back as you look at his side profile, watching how a small smile takes over his face.

  “I know him better than you do, kid.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” you scoff playfully, “My brother knows my boyfriend better than I. Are you sure he’s not cheating on me with you?”

  “Please, I’ll never lower my standards to Robby.” he winks at you when you snort, “You bet no one wants him, he’s all yours.”

  “Well, I’m not really sure about that anymore,” you shrug, “I don’t think he’s even mine anymore… and mind you, I always wanted my partner to be like you, so take it as an insult with a grain of salt, asshole.”

  “You wound me,” Jack chuckles, glancing at your soft, unsure smile, “on the night shift thing… Are you sure you want me to be your Attending? I can be worse than him.”

  “I’m used to your horrible attitude, and besides, we don’t have sex, so your chances of hurting me are half as likely.”

  “I’m too old to be the victim of your incest jokes,” he reaches for the remote to open the door to the apartment’s parking lot, “And I do have sex, but unlike you, I don’t like shoving it in my sister’s face.”

  “I never did that!” You laugh, nudging his side with your elbow when he safely parks the car, “I’m just saying I don’t take your insults as my Attending seriously because we’re blood related and I know what goes through your head.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack sighs, rubbing a palm over his face, “Not maybe, definitely. He can’t say what goes through his head and… it bottles up inside him until he explodes.”

  “Then that’s too bad, cause the only person he harms is me.”

  ••••••••••

  Robby has been searching for you all through the ER for the past week. You know it is not the most mature way to go through this crisis, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

  You start taking the night shifts, meeting with Dana and Collins as night owls take over the floor while you openly avoid Robby at all times, fleeing the scene every time you get so much as a glimpse of his navy blue hoodie in the corner of your eye.

  He, too, has been chasing you relentlessly. Making sure to stay a few more hours to just see you and get to tell you a simple hello, but you go out of your way to hide in the bathroom until Ellis comes and collects you, giving you a thumbs up that means Robby’s given up on finding you again.

  This is the routine for a good few nights; escaping Robby for the first hours of your shift, having a breakdown in the bathroom, save a bunch of lives and argue with your brother — Attending —  until you sneak out of the hospital without Robby seeing you when he comes to take over the floor from your brother.

  Jack forces you to take a few days off this week. You have been running through ER every night on caffeine and energy drinks, four hours of sleep, and a broken heart. So, given how much of a great brother Jack is, he tells you to take a few nights off this week.

  Home alone, comfy under a blanket with a boring movie playing on the TV, the least you could expect is to hear a knock on your brother’s apartment at such a dark hour — and worse? You recognize the pattern of knocks immediately. Three knocks: one slow and unsure, the second one stronger and confident, the last one shy and anticipating.

  You want to disappear, to ignore the knocks and melt through the cushions of the couch. But the very familiar pattern is pulling you in, making your heart race and limbs tingling.

  With some courage that is near nonexistent, you push the blanket off, slowly padding towards the door, flexing and relaxing your fingers a few times, a couple deep breaths before you reach for the door knob, twisting it and revealing a very tired and teary-eyed Robby.

  Your breath hitches as you take him in; shoulders slumped heavily, eyebags much darker than you remember, his body tense with so much unresolved emotion, and his eyes… his eyes, those pools of chocolate brown that always make your face warm and your heart beat rapidly — they are filled to the brim with shame and guilt. It will only take one push to have those watercolor droplets stream down his cheeks.

  “Robby…”

  He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as if hearing his name fall from your lips is the freshest air he has ever breathed. You can see him visibly relax, your voice soothing his concerns about your well-being.

  “Hi,” he leans with his hand on the doorframe, looking down at his shoes as he tries to keep his voice from breaking, “Hi…”

  “Hey,” you bite your lip, looking behind him as you try to gather your thoughts, “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around the wooden frame, dragging his eyes back to yours slowly, letting you use them as a mirror to his soul, “I had to see you.”

  “Robby—“

  “No, no, let me talk—“ he cuts you off, resting his hands on the bridge of his nose, then sighing and putting them on his hips, “I fucked up, I know that. I-I messed up so bad, I know, I fucking know. You’re a goddamn amazing doctor, my best resident, I loathe myself for how I treated you.”

  “You were so mean…” You can feel your own tears stinging your eyes, and it only gets worse when you look up to him, finding him flushed and on the verge of breaking, “Why?”

  “Just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought if I pushed you away in the hospital, we could work better together, and then-then the lines blurred and I couldn’t notice how far I distanced myself from you.”

  “I was right there, Robby,” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears finally burst, “All you had to do was to give us one chance to work together.”

  “Don’t cry,” he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches to cup your face, his face wet from seeing your tears, “I can’t handle it, I will break beyond repair if I see you cry, please…”

  You put your palms on top of his, leaning forward to gently rest your forehead against his, sobbing in his arms. You are quite surprised when you hear him sniff and cry, just as equally pained and sad — he is crying because you are crying.

  “No one deserves your tears,” he leans down and kisses the droplets slowly, his chapped lips making a beautiful contrast with your soft skin. First your cheeks, following the wet path down to your chin before he comes up and pecks your closed eyelids, “Much less me.”

  “Don’t say that—“

  “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” you can feel him softly crying as he presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo he so desperately misses, “I can’t function without you on my shifts, I can’t think straight, I can’t… my life is incomplete without you.”

  You tilt your head back, forcing him to look at you, but the way you gaze at him only spurs him on to continue, and when those three words fall from his lips, he can no longer control his emotions.

  “I love you,” he closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting his beard each passing moment, “I don’t show it a lot, I’ve treated you so poorly, you must be thinking I don’t care about you, but I do, a lot. I love you, and there is nothing nearly as good as you in my life. I hang in there for twelve hours, but when I see you, it feels like my entire life makes sense, like I have a purpose, a reason to come back, a reason to move forward.”

  “Oh, Robby…” you cup his cheeks, pulling his face down, brushing your nose against his, “I love you too, so much.”

  You close the distance, pressing your lips to his softly, just a taste, perhaps a promise of a better tomorrow. He doesn’t rush you either, he kisses you back with relief, the weight lifting off his shoulders slowly. 

  He doesn’t deepen the kiss, allowing you to lead him this time, tasting the remaining bittersweet flavor of his nicotine gum. Robby’s hands go to your back, pulling you closer if possible, feeling the heat of your body seeping through the layers of his outfit.

  “Robby,” you break the kiss, hovering your lips over his as you speak, “I still need some time. I… I have been getting along with the night shift, and I need some time away.”

  “Name it and it’s yours,” he nods, his fingers tightening around your waist, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything.”

  “I know, my love,” you pout, stroking his bearded cheek gently, “There are a lot of things we have to work on, but for now… I need to step back.”

  “Alright.”

  •••••••

  Maybe it was a bad decision to listen to your brother and take another night off. You feel useless being home alone without your stethoscope around your neck and those god-awful tight scrubs the hospital gave you.

  Now you are sure it was a terrible decision to take the night off, because now you have to explain to a very anxious brother and a much more anxious boyfriend why you and nearly thirty other injured people are being rushed to the PTMC’s ER.

  “Abbot?” Shen is in the triage they made of the ambulance bay, rushing towards you with Ellis in toe to help you out of the car, “What the fuck? What happened to you?”

  “I was in the same restaurant, fuck, my leg—“ you groan, clinging to the doctors as they sit you on the wheelchair, Shen giving Ellis a look to take you inside, dodging the gurneys and patients left and right until she finds you an empty corner, telling you to wait for someone to come and help you, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

  “Kid?” Dana gasps, jogging toward you as soon as her eyes fall on your face and stretched leg, “Fucking hell, you okay? What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to have a nice dinner out, unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that collapsed,” you scoff, trying to pull the sundress you are wearing down to cover at least your mid-thigh. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine! Probably just a hairline fracture on my Fibula and a bunch of bruises on my body.”

  “You look like you’ve fist fought a three hundred pound man,” she glares at you, kneeling in front of your wheelchair to take a look at the bruises on your neck and arms, “For whatever’s worth, you look like a piece of candy in this dress.”

  “Too bad no one was there to appreciate me,” you crack a smile, hissing when she pushes the sundress’ sleeve further down your shoulder, her fingers stroking the huge purple-ish spot.

  “I’m gonna order you a CT, can’t wait to get a doctor here,” she looks at you, noticing the sadness in your eyes, “You look beautiful, don’t worry about him, he’s a moron.”

  “I’m more worried about how he’ll lose his shit if he sees me like this—“

  “Sister?!”

  “Jesus fucking christ,” you groan, tipping your head back as Jack runs towards you, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair as he takes in your state. You look at Dana, giving her a pleading look, “Help me escape?”

  “And miss Robby hovering around you like a mother hen? Hell, nah,” she chuckles, caressing your head before she stands up, “You’re in good hands, kid. Dr. Abbot here knows a thing or two about medicine.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Dana,” Jack rolls his eyes playfully before he looks back to you. “How bad is the leg? Did you hit your head? Let’s get you a CT first, then radiology—“

  “Nope, I don’t need a head CT, I just need some painkillers and an X-ray. Think I have a tiny hairline fracture in my leg—“

  “Can you stand on your feet?” He asks, helping you up with his hands on your waist, watching how you stand up in pain, “Where does it hurt the most?”

  “Around my ankle, lateral malleolus,” you hiss again, holding onto Jack’s shoulder as he guides you back on the wheelchair, “Maybe it’s not even a fracture, just a sprain, yeah?”

  “Possibly, but you’re not the doctor here.” he fixes you with a stern look as he applies pressure around your ankle, trying to see where it hurts the most. “Let the adults handle this.”

  “Then get a responsible adult in here,” you say, laughing when he makes a gurgling noise, pressing on the spot where it hurts the most, making you shrink and pull your feet out of his grasp. “You’re pushing fifty and still act like you’re ten. Grow up.”

  “Unfortunately for you your ‘responsible adult’ is Robby who is—“ he turns around, finding Robby stopping midway when he gets a glimpse of you on a wheelchair, “Near freaking the fuck out. Have fun, Miss Abbot.”

  “Wait— no! He can’t treat me, he can’t handle it, I swear, Jack, if you take one more step—“

  Your words die in your throat as you watch Robby walk your way quickly, his hands shaking and his eyes — his sad fucking puppy eyes that have your heart running miles an hour — scanning your entire body in a hurry.

  “What happened?” Robby’s voice shakes as he reaches to hold your cheek in his hands, his touch hesitant and trembling, “What did Jack say? Do-do you need to go up? Are you okay—“

  “Robby, I’m fine,” you reply gently, smiling as he keeps on bombarding you with several questions you have already answered, watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head when he sees the huge bruise on your shoulder, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to my very energetic ER resident in a few days. I can even help now—“

  “No, absolutely not,” he purses his lips, ghosting his knuckles over your bruise before he sighs and looks back to your face, “You gonna go home, take some painkillers, you know which ones help you the most, and rest. What were you doing there anyway? What happened?”

  “I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner, got ready and all,” and you smile shyly when his eyes finally drag on your body, taking in the way the sundress clings to your chest and stomach.

  “Fuck,” he huffs out a laugh, “Bad timing, darling. Now I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”

  “Good,” you reach for his hand, stroking his fingers as you explain what happened there. “There was some construction work on the building next to the restaurant. One second, everything was fine, but then something dropped on us, half of the ceiling came down, and we ran out. I fell down while I was trying to get past the exit.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” his tone grows serious, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, “But what if you did? You should have told someone you were there, you have to stop being so reckless and—“

  “Robby—“

  “What if something worse happened to you—“

  “Robby—“

  “What if you ended up like one of these people, I wouldn’t be able to live—“

  “Michael, stop!” The way his first name falls from your lips freezes him immediately, his eyes widen in terror, but when he sees you smiling at him, he melts down instantly, “Look at me, I’m fine! Nothing a splint and Tylenol can’t fix, besides, I have two doctors hovering around me all the time. I’m fine and I will be fine, okay?”

  “Okay…” he nods, clinging to your hand as he fights a few unshed tears, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, I’d be worse if you were in my position,” you sigh in annoyance when you see Whitaker coming your way, squeezing Robby’s hand to get his attention, “Go, they need you now. I’ll buy the splint on the way home, I just need to find my bag.”

  “I have it!” Dana comes with Jack on toe, “Checked for keys, phone, credit cards, a bunch of lipsticks, and your necklace. All in there and good to go.”

  “Thank you, seriously!” You say, resting your arm around Robby’s shoulder as he helps you up by one hand on your ribs and the other on your waist, “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safely, alright?”

  “You need a key? I can hand you mine,” Jack says, and raises an eyebrow when you hesitate and bite your lip, looking back at Robby before you shake your head and grab your purse, “What?”

  “I think I’ll go back home,” you utter softly, looking into Robby’s eyes as his pupils blow in surprise, “If it’s okay with you?”

  “You wanna come back?” He asks, his voice no louder than a whisper, his grip tightening on you as he waits for an answer.

  “Yeah…”

  “Okay then,” Jack interrupts, “Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news, but we've got patients and you need to rest. So go back to your place and sleep.”

  “Do you…” Robby clears his throat, “Do you have the keys? Or should I grab mine—“

  “No, I have mine,” you smile, leaning up as best as you can on one foot to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back home.”

  “Yeah, sure,” you say your goodbyes to others as well, giving Dana and Jack a halfway hug, limping over to the back door of the floor before you call for an Uber and drive back home.

  •••••••

  You take the advice and rest. You don’t know what time it is when you hear the quiet jiggling of the keys and the front door being pushed open, but the familiar sound of footsteps is enough to calm your racing mind.

  “Hey,” you say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up on the bed, watching how Robby relaxes immediately when he spots you.

  He takes off his hoodie and scrubs, sitting on the edge of the bed topless as he takes off his socks slowly, sighing contently when you scoot closer, rubbing a hand over his warm back, kissing his broad shoulder.

  “How are you?” He asks, turning around so he can take a better look at your face, “Anything hurt?”

  “No,” you reply, gently running your fingers on his neck, caressing his collarbone, “I’m okay. How are you?”

  “Honestly?” He scoffs, looking down at your exposed thighs, under one of his worn-out t-shirts you have on, “Exhausted, but… I’m very happy you are back.”

  “I’m happy to be back too,” you lean down to kiss his shoulder again, “Go take a shower and come back to me. It’ll help you relax.”

  He nods and leans down to peck your lips, sighing in relief when he rests his forehead on yours. Robby nods again and, with a deep breath, he forces himself to stand up and let your hand fall from his skin.

  He comes back ten minutes later, hair towel dried and another one hanging dangerously low on his hip bones. He lets out another tired sigh, smiling when he finds you sitting up against the headboard.

  “I missed having you here.”

  “I missed being here,” you point to the empty space next to you, extending your hand so he knows what to do, watching as he slowly crawls on the bed, carefully resting his head on the soft podge of your stomach, circling his arms around your waist.

  “You’re okay, Michael.” You thread your fingers through his soft hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he hums and buries his face further into your belly, “I got you, my love.”

  “I thought I was losing you,” he tears up, biting his tongue in order to stop himself from crying, but it is in vain because the second you lean down to press a kiss on his head, he is breaking, “I did, for a few days… and it was the worst time of my life. I wasn’t alive, I… I just existed. I breathed, but I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that I let my insecurities get this far, that I had to let go of you.”

  “But I’m here now,” you wrap your other arm around his shoulder, holding him close as he cries silently, his shoulders shaking, but not a sound coming from him, “I’m here to work on these things. I never left to begin with, I… I should have knocked some sense into you when you told me my CPR pose was bad.”

  “That was a low blow, I’m sorry,” he holds on to you tightly, one of his large palms starting to caress your hips to your knees, letting his fingers follow the path of your thigh, “You’re a magnificent doctor, and I’m sorry that you had to endure months of suffering because of me. Fuck, I should have been the one to stop others not to be the one to give you a hard time.”

  “It’s over now, Robby.” You watch him sit up slowly, his much larger body cornering yours to the headboard without even trying to, “We gonna figure this out. I’ll stay on night shifts until we sort out everything, but for now, I just want my boyfriend.”

  He nods, closing the gap between your face until he reaches your lips, pressing a soft, experimental kiss before you grab the back of his neck to deepen it. Robby keeps himself up by one hand on the headboard and the other on your hip, moving his lips with yours in sync.

  “I don’t wanna hurt you more—“

  “Shh,” you nibble on his bottom lip, gently lowering your back on the mattress before you pull him on top of you, your free hand playing with the edge of the towel around his hips, “You will definitely hurt me if you deny my request.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I need you, Robby.” You frown when he doesn’t immediately get rid of the towel, and his eyes lock in on your face. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you: “You don’t want to… have sex?”

  “No! I do, I really do!” He chuckles, lowering himself on top of you after he pushes the covers off your body, grabbing your hand gently before he brings it to the very evident bulge under the towel, “See what you do to me? I need you too, so so badly, but I will hate myself if I make you uncomfortable more than you probably are.”

  “Stop overthinking and fuck me already!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he leans down again, kissing you passionately while you untuck the towel and drop it on the floor, making him hiss in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his aching lenghth, “Fuck, I missed this.”

  “Me too,” you reply breathlessly, letting him pull off your — his — shirt and pushing your panties to the side, “If you don’t do anything, I won’t let you sleep on this bed for another week.”

  “Bossy,” he kisses you quickly before he grabs your thigh in his hand, mindful of your other foot being in a splint while he makes home between your legs, his heavy cock resting on your hip as he tries to adjust your positions, “Jack’s wearing off on you.”

  “Don’t talk about my brother when you are about to fuck me,” you wrap both of your arms around his shoulder and your good leg around his waist, “Unless you two have something for each other that I don’t know about.”

  “Have some faith in me, I have a good taste in Abbots, and he is not the one,” you both laugh, and he nudges your nose with his, his warm brown eyes filled with pent-up lust and longing, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, so much.”

  He pulls you in for another kiss, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance, easing himself into you slowly, careful of your bruises. 

  Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, clinging to the other with every fiber of your being as Robby stretches you out, pushing his cock until he has nothing to give. His dick’s snuggled tightly between your velvet walls, your cunt gripping him like a vice and never wanting to go.

  He gasps when you clench around him, resting his forehead on yours as both of you begin to pant, your chests heaving with each breath.

  “You feel so good, Robby,” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, making your breath hitch as his cock reaches deep inside you.

  “You look so fucking beautiful,” his lips fall open as he picks up his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “The most perfect human ever.”

  “Oh, fuck—“ you throw your head back, tangling your fingers in Robby’s soft short hair, tugging at it as he slams himself inside you with a newfound desire — his movements tactical enough not to hurt you but just the right amount of roughness to make your leg shake around his hip, “I’m not gonna last long!”

  “Me neither, darling,” he groans, the sound of squelching filling the room, nearly tripping over the edge when he sees you reaching between your bodies to rub on your clit, “Fuck, baby…”

  “I’m gonna come—“ you release a loud moan, spilling around his girth as you reach your peak, your heel digging into his butt as you writhe beneath him.

  “There you go, sweet girl,” he beams at you, watching as your face twists in pleasure; lips swollen with all the kissing, eyes shut and lashes kissing your cheeks, “I’m so close…”

  “Inside,” you open your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand while caressing his face, “Come inside me, Michael.”

  “Fuck, fuck—“ he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you a few more times before he begins to tremble, biting down on the skin of your neck as he comes, his cock twitching inside you, filling you up to the brim.

  He comes for an embarrassingly — in his opinion — long time, just holding you close and panting into your skin while he shoots thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

  You pull him down until he rests the majority of his weight on you. You have to force him, though, because he thinks it would hurt your bruises and put you in pain, but his weight grounds you.

  The proximity makes his head spin in warmth, but you can feel how worried he is, so you don’t keep him caged on top of you, allowing him to pull away until he can get a better look at your body.

  “Please be careful next time,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the large bruise on your collarbone, then the one on your arm, then lower on the side of your stomach, “Or better, I keep you locked up so I know you’re safe.”

  “You can’t even get me locked up in a surgery, good luck with doing it for the rest of my life,” you chuckle, thanking him when he helps you sit up.

  “I think I need another shower,” he says, standing up, naked as the day he was born, before he turns to you, extending his hand for you to take, “Care to join me?”

  “You’re far too horny for your age, Dr. Robby,” you tease him, but take him on his offer nevertheless, resting your weight on his arm as he slowly helps you limp to the bathroom.

  “I’m not old,” he scowls, and you laugh at his little frown, smoothing a finger between his brows, “but no, I don’t wanna have sex, I just wanna hold you, sweet girl.”

  “Nothing is stopping you, my love.”

[yanderenightmare]

The Rainbow as Boyfriends

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: fluff, different types of drugs, really soft yandere, if yandere at all

♡ FEM reader

Red is loud with a passion that comes across as aggressive to some. He’s charismatic and likeable, but can also be both narcissistic and judgmental, with a habit of butting in where he’s not wanted and flaking when the responsibility becomes too much.

He’s got red hair, but it might be fake—you’re not sure—gelled up in needles, and a cut on his right brow he most definitely had coming. 'Cause if you think he’s loud on the regular, you can bet he’s even louder when drunk. And Red loves getting drunk—bar-hopping and clubbing, he'll drink his fill and dance until the sweat pours, but will just as quickly square up and fight someone until they're both thrown out or taken and thrown inside the drunk tank. 

He’s got bloody knuckles and bruises everywhere—on top of tattoos he’s been collecting since he was fourteen—a patchwork of poor decisions he looks back on fondly. 

He’s got a lot of opinions and dies on random hills every day, but doesn’t remember any of them come morning. Fighting is a frivolous thing to him—he doesn’t think too much of it, and will sling his arms around the shoulders of someone he soccer-punched the night before. 

He doesn’t always get when or why people are upset with him, brushing it off, thinking they’ll get over it. That’s not to say he doesn’t apologize—he does—throws them around like they cost him nothing, because they don't. And he doesn’t get how that isn’t good enough.

He doesn’t bear any grudges himself, and those he does bear he buries so deep within himself that he never ever has to think about them—ones such as the torn relationship he has with his father and his first love. Forgotten. No longer his problem. 

You don’t think you’ve ever really seen him angry, but you can say the same for happy, and that's why you can't really bring yourself to fall in love with him, knowing you're only going to get yourself hurt. He’s too destructive to hold onto—always with a bright, big smile on his face, even when someone is shouting and throwing fists at him. 

You don’t know… You think he cries in bed when he can’t sleep. 

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Togame

Orange is warm. Always pinging you if you want to go sunbathing.

As expected, he’s tan with ginger curls, freckle-faced and muscly, seizing any and all opportunities to take off his shirt. He’s a stickler for sunscreen, though, carrying one on him at all times and interrogating you about wearing it to the point of applying it without asking.

He hasn’t got a single tattoo, not even so much as a wave, despite his love for the beach—he's just never thought to spend money on it. But what he lacks in tattoos, he more than makes up for in scars. He’s a sporty guy—sort of reckless—happy-go-lucky, be it with a ball, frisbee, or a surfboard, and it has led to some interesting accidents and several stitches.

He’s also an avid ocean preserver. Collecting plastic from the sands and helping wildlife back into the water. He brought you along once, at midnight, when the tide was low. You'd collected stranded starfish and tossed them back into the waves.

You were drunk, but ever since you’ve been struck with this sense of guilt you’ve never had before. To think that starfish actually dry up and die once the tide pulls out is a horror you didn’t need to know.

But it only goes to show how sweet a guy Orange really is. He never made it to college because he’d already decided what he wanted to do a long time ago, planning on taking over the beach cafe where he’s worked his entire life. He calls the owner there his uncle, even though they aren’t related, and is practically running the place already.

He’s a simple guy with simple plans and simple dreams, but at the same time, you can’t help but feel as though he’s smarter than all the rest of you. He’s the guy who has it all figured out. You can’t tell if he’s actively decided to let go of all bigger ideas and dreams, or if he’s been that enlightened since birth.

In any case, you stick around him, hoping that some of that peace of mind of his will rub off on you. Everyone’s so caught up in being famous today that you forget you have real life to live.

But out here, on the beach with him, phone tucked away in a locker, toes in the sand with no makeup on except for sunscreen, and no bustling city cars or club chatter, just frivolous laughter and the sound of splashing waves, you can be content with the fact that no one knows who you are. 

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Natsuo, FatGum, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi, Hinata, Sugawara, Bokuto, Osamu, Ushijima, Ukai ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Tanjiro ♡ WB – Umemiya

Yellow was born rich and grew up wild for no reason.

He’s daddy’s golden boy, but acts and dresses like a gang member every time he leaves the house outside of any and all family occasions, galas, and charity events.

He’s like Bruce Wayne, without the crime-fighting, and if Batman were just his street name. 

Not that you real street urchins don’t spot him a mile away. But hey, he’s fun and likes spending money, so you let him hang out despite him being from the other side of town.

He likes riding fast cars and taking fast drugs and is surprisingly good at drag racing. Actually, he’s the best. Blew every single one of you away when he took on the previous best racer. You thought he was high on something and acting stupid, but no. Won fair and square like it was nothing to him.

It all makes sense when you learn his father’s the owner of a major automobile conglomerate. As his son, he’s got several fast cars—several of each big brand, new models and retro ones, collectors' items and ones that are personally customized.

Your jaw is on the floor as he takes you through the garage. You have to scoff at the term—garage—as if it isn’t a whole underground parking lot beneath his house.

You’re surprised to find out he actually does work on them. In overalls with a wrench, oil stains and all. 

He tells you he always dreamt of being a real racer, running his own team right alongside Red Bull and McLaren. But when you ask him why he doesn’t, he tells you dreams are for poor people—that cars are a business, not for play.

You don’t know. It’s the first time you fully realize how truly different the two of you are. You’d ignored the expensive clothing and salon hair up until then. But now it was suddenly all you could see.

You’re just the flag girl who initiated his first race—the girlfriend he doesn’t introduce to his parents because he has no real intention of staying with you for long. So you decide to rip off the band-aid and break up with him.

He’s dumbfounded.

But just like the golden boy he is, he’ll win you back by sparing no expense.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Touya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Gojo ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Lev, Oikawa, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Rin ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Doma

Green is an earthy guy. He knows everything about any botanical type you can name—which can overwinter, which can survive with minimal sun, which needs water every day. He can even bring flowers back from the dead. He’s like a witch doctor for plants.

His parents own the flower shop he manages, as well as the plantation from which the flowers come.

You start working there, sort of on a whim, just after college. You don’t know why, you’ve never considered yourself especially green-fingered, but they were hiring, and you, despite having a degree, didn’t really know what you were or wanted to be doing yet.

Green is about your age, so it’s a very chill job. And the plants make for nice scenery and a pleasant aroma as you try to figure out your life. In fact, it’s so nice you end up getting a little lost in it.

And Green is so laid back, you end up becoming good friends, and after seeing the way he carries those big bags of soil on his back so easily, you end up becoming a little more than that, despite him being your boss. So, with the benefits being as good as the salary, there wasn’t much to encourage you to leave.

But how could you have known?

You thought he was a normal guy until he casually took you into one of the greenhouses on the far side of the plantation on day, just to help him with some plants there he’d told you, only for it to be a whole ass weed garden you hadn’t known anything about.

The salary suddenly makes more sense then.

He’s so normal about it, you’re almost convinced it isn’t illegal, the way he adjusts the sprinklers for a light drizzle, and tells you to check each plant for any damage and disease.

You didn’t know if you should say anything at first, but of course you do—asking him what it’s all for. To which he responds by just smiling that dopey smile of his, bringing you in for a lazy hug while placing a soft kiss on your forehead, then telling you it’s best not to ask any questions.

You don’t know… but it sort of feels like what he really meant to say was Shut up and do your job.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi, Hinata, Sugawara, Kuro, Bokuto, Atsumu, Osamu, Ukai ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ WB – Kiryu, Umemiya, Togame

Blue is an artist—a tortured one.

Though not a particularly poor one.

He’s also a young entrepreneur who started his career in art curation while still in middle school, and therefore lives alone in his penthouse apartment, never once having ever bothered to turn on the lights.

He’s a real hermit with a tendency to fall in love with his own depression.

He can spend entire days in bed, awake, rolling around, thinking, wondering why he feels the way he feels, even though he knows that getting up would probably solve half of it. But when he finally does get out of bed, he simply wraps himself in the duvet and relocates to the sofa. 

It’s a cocoon, he insists—his metamorphosis. He’ll come out when the sun goes down again. All night long in front of the canvas. So many shades of blue on his palette—it’s enough to get lost in.

You’re his assistant, but you feel like a nanny half the time. You have no idea how he’s managed the firm so far—he doesn’t even step out of his home, let alone go to any galleries where he can actually do business.

On top of that, he never answers his goddamn phone—all but forcing you to make the trip over. Shaking your head, you always buy dinner on the way, knowing he’s probably forgotten about it. Thinking you’ll hit two birds with one stone, you just make for you both.

You know the passcode to the door, and so you step right in like you live there—in fact, with how often you're there, sleeping over and tidying up, you're at the point you're fighting the urge to call it home.

Finding his phone uncharged in the middle of the floor, you sigh. You’re not sure, but you think he does it on purpose. Ignoring your texts, knowing you’ll be on your way.

He heard you come in, but doesn’t step away from his work, listening to you pad up the stairs to his studio. He’s in a bathrobe, hair greasy, nearly matted to his head, and just like a mother, you tell him to go march his ass into the shower while you make some food.

At least he actually listens to you when you come over. But my, he’s a handful. Over dinner, he even asks you to just move in for real, given that you’re already doing the job of a wife.

But he writes your checks, and they’re well beyond what you’d make if you were an actual nanny, so you guess you’ll put up with him for a little while longer. 

♡ BNHA – Shoto, Shigaraki, Touya, Hawks, young Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Ego ♡ DS – Zenitsu

Indigo is a guy who never sleeps. He’s all late nights, dark clothes, and too many drinks to count, and yet never seems too drunk.

He’s like a bottomless well. A wishing well of sorts that doesn’t mind listening to all your drunken ramblings while the two of you sit on the floor after the party’s over. 

You should have shut up hours ago, but he doesn’t mind. He just watches you silently as you spill all your deepest, darkest secrets—a small smile on his lips, you can’t see. But his intentions aren’t bad. He just finds you cute, is all. 

He’s at every party—outside, leaning against the back of the house with a cigarette between his lips. The darkness of the night makes his eye color impossible to place—they just look black.

You seek him out for reasons you’re not too sure of yet. Or… the mysterious hot guy—how could you refuse?

You’re tipsy, giggling, all smiles and more, twirling and accepting his offer of a puff with your lips and not your hands, so that he has to hold it for you. He smiles, and this time you see it, further spurring you on.

You ask him then and there, in the night, to go skinny dipping with you alone. And he just hums, lighting another cig, telling you to lead the way.

When he removes his shirt, you spot the tattoos in the moonlight. It’s strange—they’re all the girly type, but suit him so well—his astrology symbols, a heart, the infinity sign, an arrow, a flower, an anime cloud. You don’t know why, but it’s hot for some reason, like the doodles you'd make in a textbook instead of writing notes.

He isn’t what you would call a pretty boy, but he is pretty. Dark-eyed with long lashes, you might accuse him of wearing mascara, and yet it doesn’t run down his pink-dusted cheeks when you’re in the water.

Skin to skin to keep warm, naked and held on his lap, sharing kisses while bobbing in the lake, everything quiet except for breaths and the soft splashing around you, so close now you can finally spot the true color of his eyes—dark, dark, dark indigo blue. 

It might be the drink in your system, but you swear, that way he looks at you—it’s enough to make you fall in love on the spot.

♡ BNHA – Shoto, Touya, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Geto, Megumi, Toji, Choso ♡ HQ – Suna, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ WB – Suo ♡ HxH – young Chrollo

Violet is an old soul, and yet a never-aging one at the same time. A soft, timeless presence—mild, like a breath of fresh air, a gentle breeze ruffling your hair. 

Far removed from town, between a forest and a flower field runs a white gravel road, and at the end of it stands his cottage—pale bricks and ashen rooftiles that all but disappear within the foliage growing up and over it. And yet, peaking through the leaves and flowers are cute windows and a round wooden door leading inside.

Behind a picket fence connected to the house is a little garden where he grows tomatoes, salad, and carrots, which he’ll use to feed the fluffle of bunnies living out on the field. They all know and trust him, and so when he takes you through it for the first time, you feel convinced you’re dating a faun.

Everything about him is like a fairytale… Doe-eyed and silly, he’ll lie you down in the wildflowers and grass to watch clouds, both on your backs, giving them names while holding your hand. He’ll weave you a flower crown and name you a princess, and though it’s all odd and new to you, there isn’t a single thing about it that isn’t perfectly perfect.

He likes scented candles, incense, and organic food. He doesn’t touch alcohol or meat, but you’re very sure he’s got something in his tea and puts it in everything he bakes.

You don’t mind it. Or well… you’re a little sceptical when he first introduces you to mushrooms, but you trust him enough to try.

You don’t think you’ve ever really felt the forest before. Touching the trees as you pass them, feeling the deep wrinkles of bark run under your palm—it’s like the skin of something ancient. After taking a closer look, you swear you can spot the faces.

The wind is like a song, and the river sings along. You don’t know, you feel so small, but in a good way, in a way that everything around you suddenly becomes transcendent.

You look back at him, and hidden there, in the trees, you don’t even realize, but you’ve forgotten about the rest of the world.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Sugawara, Kuro, Bokuto, Osamu ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Tomioka, Tanjiro ♡ WB – Kiryu, Nirei, Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[twistedpink]

Hello! I love your writing sm <3

Could I request General!Lilia with that one military graduation tradition where the soldiers are required to stand still and wait for a loved one to touch them so they can move?

Idk if you know what I'm talking about but like here's an example: https://youtube.com/shorts/2142YOyLS8M?si=0xV64So-Sl_YtVSL

Remember to take care of yourself, drink lots and eat lots so you can stay healthy 🫶

I LOVE THESE VIDEOSSSSSS

General!Lilia’s spent his entire deployment thinking of you at home,, How you may want to remarry, and if you haven’t thought of it already you definitely will once you see him. He’s not the same man you married, and he just barely has the courage to admit to himself it scares him- More than any humans or the senate. The thought of you leaving him is terrifying, but he’d understand in the end. He’s been turned into a monster.

General!Lilia that keeps your clothing in pristine condition his entire deployment despite being filthy himself. You’ve done the charity of sending him the blanket from your wedding bed, a couple socks, and the bane of his existence. Your favourite night shirt. He deludes himself to think still smells of you after months of use- It reeks of the outdoors and his sweat and tears, but he’s never failed to bury his nose in it and feel all giddy.. You cared enough to send these mundanities to him, and they’re his greatest treasures. His last (sleeping) night on duty is spent wearing your socks in your shirt wrapped up snug in your blanket. More than anything, they give him strength.

General!Lilia’s lost so much. His troops and friends, his princess, his morals,, His tap out’s done alone, in a field untouched by the war. A pessimistic, realist part of him’s convinced that you’ll never come, that he deserves to rot in this field. If you were to abandon him here, he wouldn’t make it out alive. Not because it’s particularly dangerous,, But because he’d wait as long as it takes for you to be with him again- Even if you’re no longer “his”.

General!Lilia doesn’t blame the hypothetical you in his head for scorning him- Actually, he thinks you aren’t being harsh enough. He hasn’t earned a kiss or gentle touch, he doesn’t deserve your tender affections anymore. Your husband’s a failure. But he can admit he’s good enough to have stayed loyal at least,, No town flower’s tempted him, nor alley specials for soldiers. He’s never considered himself the romantic altruist type, but if you are to hate him, to leave or slander him, he just wants to look at you one last time. Then he wouldn’t have to worry if he’s failed so miserably that even you fell to the conflict.

When you appear out of the thicket, unmarred by the battle and even looking concerned for him, it’s a massive weight off Lilia’s shoulders. The time you take running across the field feels like a lifetime. You look the same as when he left for war.. You know nothing of the things he’s done, the things he can’t undo. He is not the man you knew. He briefly thinks of flying off- He’s had no difficulty when breaking the rules before, so what’s the difference? He’s sure you’d be better off without him. There’s a barely audible thunk against the metal of his armour when your arms are thrown around his neck, hurriedly removing the bloody mask he wears to see his face again. To see your Lilia safe and sound. Once all the pressure’s released, he wants to deflate, wants to collapse in your arms and weep and kiss and love you again despite the angry, violent thing he’s become,, He settles for hugging you back. He can feel you cry at seeing him so defeated, hear your heart race and smell your smell (The shirt doesn’t do you justice). He allows himself to breathe you in. It’s time to go home <3

@bju3c0re

[clare-875]

Where Are You? (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Sanji x Reader Summary: They can't find you after a battle. Warnings: Descriptions of injury and blood, angst, comfort, Marineford spoilers and slight PTSD for Luffy's, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

(A/N: This was angstier than I originally was going for, sorry!)

"Oi, Nami..." Luffy's gaze fights between untamed trepidation and utter despair as he looks down at his navigator, who bore the same look in her eyes. "Where's [y/n]?" There is a deep and unwavering silence until Nami speaks up from where she sat, exhausted, shaky voice reaching the air. "I-I thought she was with you, she stayed back to fight the enemy w-while I escaped. Luffy I-" More crewmates gather from the now destroyed town, wiping debris from themselves and cradling injuries won through their respective battles. "Hey, what's going on?" Zoro first interrupts the tense atmosphere as Nami gazes into her Captain's shadowed eyes, betraying rare worry. This battle had been formidable and deadly. It was obvious in the way the crew were clad with cuts and bruises, and it had been hours since you had been left to deal with your opponent. "I'm going to go look for her!" Luffy leaves the scene despite hearing the worried call from Nami and the confused words of the rest of the crew.

Normally, Luffy wouldn't be worried about his crewmates, especially you. He held them to a great standard and had great trust in them; there was nothing they couldn't overcome in his mind. However, he would be lying to say he wasn't worried for you now. Despite burying the feeling every time he and the crew faced battle, it was hard to ignore the lingering dread, especially after having experienced the potential consequences of warfare with Ace. He needed you safe. He needed you with him and his crew. He couldn't lose you too. Too much time has passed in his mind, and he flung his outstretched limbs as far as they would go, to the place where Nami had left you to fight. Maybe he was overreacting, but Luffy couldn't risk anything with you. You brought out that serious side in him, you brought forth the dread of losing someone again.

When Luffy finally makes his way to the scene he witnesses the destructions, etched with the uniqueness of your battle techniques. The ground had been upturned, buildings indented with impacts and smoking in the wake of your battle. In the midst, he sees your opponent, unconscious and lets relief fill his system; you have won. Then, his eyes scour the scene and land on whisps of [h/c] hair, which leads to a familiar face. Luffy feels his heart pound once, twice before picking up pace. You were there, but you were unconscious, were you-. Luffy runs, and he feels that unfamiliar feeling twist in his chest once more; dread, fear, worry. The emotions were so unnatural to him, but so was love, until you taught him the sensation. "[y/n]!!" He yells quickly, and reaches your side in an instant, as trembling hands take your bloodied face into his lap.

"Hey, [y/n]!! [y/n]!! Are you-"

Luffy doesn't know what to do and considers running you back to Chopper. But finally, he sees it: your eyes. They flutter open and your gaze adjusts to the sight of Luffy, except his face is adorned with emotions you had yet to familiarise yourself with. "L-Luffy?" You sit up steadily, wincing slightly, but okay nonetheless. Your boyfriend stares in silence, and your concern only deepens at his far-away gaze. You grab his shoulders gently, "Hey, Luffy... are you okay?" A moment passes before Luffy shakes his head from his trance, as though finally with you again. "Y-Yeah." You frown deeper at his uncharacteristic response, but you know deep down the events of Marineford are still fresh in his mind.

When Luffy looks at you, he can only grip at his reality and try to acknowledge that you are there with him... that you are alive and safe. Your eyes linger on his face as you pull him into a hug that he didn't know he needed. "I'm sorry Luffy, I must've passed out, let's go now. I'm sure there's a banquet waiting for us." With that, Luffy finally shakes free from the haunting feeling that lingered just earlier. You finally witness the quirk of his lips as he nods and tells you to hold on to him. He flings you back to the crew that waves and smiles at you in relief. That night, Chopper frantically checks up on you anyway, and Luffy pays closer attention to you. You on the other hand make sure Luffy's lingering smile deepens, and returns to that full, wide, joy you know it should always encompass

As the night loiters on, you see the normalcy seep back into celebration. By the end, Luffy dances with you and eats like his life depends on it. You smile softly and he grins; all is well in his world because all is well with you.

- Sanji -

"[y/n]-san!!" Sanji's eyes are almost wild as they turn left to right, his legs lit aflame as he moves across the destroyed town, searching every nook for a glimpse of your face. Worry pounds in his chest and he barely has the time to care that he has gone and lost his composure. "Sanji-kun!" Nami speaks up from behind him, but she barely has the will to keep up her angry facade when she witnesses concern radiating from the cook; she was worried too, after all. Nami sighs heavily as Sanji looks at her with his teeth gritted. "Calm down, I'm sure she's alright, maybe-" Her words are meant to be of comfort, but Sanji has been looking through the town for too long, and he merely needs you with him again. He needs you safe and in his arms. So though trying to hold onto words spilled in their reassurance, only you could calm the worry he holds now.

"Oi, Sanji!" The cook turns at the sound of Luffy's voice as he bounds over, rare sincerity coming from his Captain. "Have you found her yet?" Sanji could do nothing but shake his head because he hadn't. He can't find you. It had been hours since you were left to deal with your opponent, and he had found them battered and obviously defeated by you. But where were you? He had been searching with some of his crew for a while now, and every instant he felt his hope start to slip away; he felt failure creep up on him. In his mind, it was his duty to make sure that you were safe; he hated even the faintest scratch on your skin. But he also wanted to place his trust in you. Despite having to resist his instinct to protect, he wanted you to fight your own battles for your own pride, but now he feels himself regretting having run off with another enemy; he should've stayed by your side.

Sanji continues through the barren streets, and he prays to whatever being he has to pray to, holding on to the slim hope that you are safe. As crew members also disperse in their concern for you, he pulls back the debris, now almost scared to see what he could find. Were you injured? Were you taken? Were you- "S-Sanji..." For a moment, the blond-haired cook freezes and he feels his heart beat faster, if that were even possible. "S-Sanji, that you?" Sanji had never raced towards the sound of someone's voice faster than he had in that moment. "[y/n]-san!? [y/n], where are you?" He is met with the quiet once again, and he fears it might've been a trick of his mind until finally, your voice lingers once again. "Here, I'm trapped... can't breathe." His eyes turn sharply to a building, and beneath the debris, he eyes your arm reaching upwards, desperately trying to gather his attention. "[y/n]-san..."

Sanji moves as though his life depends on it, ripping away rubble and fragments of building built upon you. His hands bleed by the end of it but he doesn't seem to care because finally, he sees your face. "Love!" Sanji, tears away the final pieces of destruction that had piled around you and gently pulls you free from your encasement. He gathers you in his arms and his embrace, relishing your warm body against his. "S-Sanji." When the cook finds the will to pull away he allows relief to wash away his dread, but not the concern as he sees your half-lidded eyes, straining in your exhaustion. "Love, let me find Chopper." You had never seen Sanji so serious. He holds you in his arms and runs as fast as his legs would take him, lit ablaze as he scours the scene for the sight of the crew's doctor.

When he finally does, he wastes no time.

"Chopper!" Almost immediately there is action, as crewmembers gather at the sight of you in Sanji's arms, and Chopper's eyes widen at the state you're in. "[y/n]!" You had lost consciousness by the time the small reindeer could look over your state, and Sanji silently suffered his worry once more, reaching for a cigarette. Long moments pass in the aftermath, and it is only hours later when you wake amid celebrations of victory. When you turn to your side, Sanji is already there, watching crewmembers feast upon the banquet that marks the end of another fight. As he turns and meets your eyes, you see them widen and you smile gently. "Love! You're awake, thank God!" Sanji reaches over to you and you laugh as you gather him in your arms. "I-I'm so sorry. If I had-" But you cut off your lover and you hush him quickly with the clasp of your hand around his.

"Thank you, for saving me."

Sanji looks down on you, battered and bruised but safe and with him. He smiles softly at you and squeezes your hand in his, as though in silent promise: he would never see you lost to him again. You grin at the serene expression that has finally filled his face but are interrupted by the rumble of your stomach as you pause and feel heat rush to your face. "I- I guess I am a bit hungry after all the-" But of course, you barely have to finish your sentence. Sanji has a platter in his hand, full of all the foods you could want with determination in his eyes. "Please, let me love." In that moment, you let Sanji take care of you because it seemed that was what he longed to do, after holding onto his concern for so long. Just never leave him in that state again, he doesn't know if he could take that.

- Zoro -

You gasp as you pull your limbs out of the debris that had fallen in the impacts of your battle. You cradle an arm you know had likely broken and take in a stuttering breath as you pull yourself back to your feet. Almost instantly, you feel pain. Great, you think to yourself, a broken arm and a broken ankle, just what I needed. You momentarily lose balance before gritting your teeth and forcing yourself still. The battle had been more tedious and time-consuming than you had originally hoped, but in your mind, it was worth it to witness your agitating opponent finally bite the dust. You gaze upward towards the falling sun. You had let too much time pass, and you had to get back to your crew; you had to make sure they were safe. So, despite the pain you limp and try to ignore the raging discomfort as you make your way further from your fallen foe.

Quite a ways further from you, Zoro looked around him whilst trying to deny that it was worry he felt at the lack of your presence. Crew members were now having their injuries checked up on or being slowly pulled into preparations to celebrate victory. Too busy being doted on by grateful, new friends or being lulled into the temptation of food and drink, there hadn't been much time to settle and do a head count. But Zoro noticed; of course, he did. He could deny all he wanted, but you were the first thing he looked for post-battle. He had great trust in you and your abilities; you were strong, dependable and courageous. He never doubted you, but time ticked on, and unrest ate up at him. Where were you? You should be here by now.

"Where's [y/n]?"

Robin is the next crewmember to look around in concern at your absence but she is the first to actually voice the lack of you. Her words catch the attention of other crewmates as Nami and Sanji also turn and look around the vicinity. "Now that you mention it... when was the last time any of you saw her?" Zoro's heart rate only picks up further despite eyeing his crewmates in silence, listening as they question your whereabouts. Luffy starts to bound over as he witnesses his crew start to clump together, worry betraying them. "What's happening?" Zoro turns once his Captain has entered the fray, already having started to move before registering the rest of the crew's increasingly uttered words. "Oi, Marimo, wait you'll get lost before you even-" But he is too far by the time Sanji notices that Zoro has gone, most likely to look for you. "Tch, we should send someone else to look for [y/n]-san too."

Zoro walks briskly through the barren streets and takes himself far from where the smoke of the campfire rages behind him, marking the beginning of a banquet. His keen ears pick up on odd sounds in the area, but none of them are you, and his horrible sense of direction has betrayed him again. Where were you? It was dark now, and the moon lingered in the sky. Abruptly, there is a tangible dread that twists uncomfortably in the swordsman's chest; he knows that you should've been back by now. If you weren't something must've happened, but Zoro refuses to acknowledge what that 'something' could be. Surely you wouldn't be- Suddenly, there is a ruffle of trees to his far right and he turns quickly, instincts forcing his hands to his swords. Someone was here. "Oi, show yourself!" There is a tense silence, until finally, Zoro hears the one thing he had been hoping for: your voice.

"Really Zoro? You can't even recognise your own girlfriend?"

Amid trees and branches, you finally break away into the clearing albeit with exhaustion and injury weighing you down. You breathe heavily and you would never say it but you felt such relief at seeing Zoro, that you could cry. But, your pride holds your tears and instead, you smile, grinning at him and holding yourself up with as much strength as you can muster. The swordsman who looks at you finally feels the worry dissipate but his eyes travel your form and the way your arm bends an awkward way or how you clearly favour one leg to the other. "Oi, [y/n], what took you so long?" Zoro lets out a deep sigh as he relaxes his stance but would rather die than admit his concern to you, and so masks it behind nonchalant words. You, however, have hoarded so much pain, that you feel as though on the brink of collapse.

"Yeah, yeah, help me out here?" You reach out to him, longing for some sort of support, but Zoro's sharp eyes widen as he sees you topple. Almost instantly you feel warm arms wrap around you. When next you open your eyes you are cradled against your boyfriend's chest and held firm but gently. Your gaze drifts to his face and you laugh as you see the slight flush of red fill his cheeks. "Where you worried, Zoro?" You tease, trying to lighten the mood, but your head lulls into him, as you finally feel the safety of being back in his arms. "Tch, don't be ridiculous." You smile softly, too tired to reply, but you point in the opposite direction of where he walks. "Zoro, that way." You mutter against him and he turns sharply, a more fierce blush rising to his face. You laugh before letting sleep pull you in. Zoro almost starts yelling in panic until he sees you have merely drifted off; you don't see the worry he held onto just moments earlier, almost causing him to turn the town over to find you.

"Don't do that again, idiot." His words are murmured to you, and he holds you closer, but you don't hear them, too far in your sleep.

[heavens-whore]

DEALER

Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Summary: Your dealer boyfriend Tommy asks you to meet with his business partner for a little exchange.

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER OMG. This has been in the drafts for like a year if you can believe that. I need to thank my beautiful friend Sini (who is unfortunately not on tumblr 💔) for proofreading and encouraging and constructively criticising. I already have an idea for a second part to this so let me know if you want it ! also my ask box is open so come talk to me!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+, DUBCON, semi-public, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Tommy getting cucked over the phone; mention of guns, violence/blood, drugs, criminal activity in general

It was another one of those nights. Tommy had come home with a fresh, open gash on his forehead and busted lip. Your heart dropped down to your stomach the second you laid eyes on him. You immediately rushed over, inspecting the wounds with his face in your hands. He assured you it was nothing, that he was fine, but you still practically dragged him upstairs to let you patch him up.

You sat him down on the bed and stood in between his legs, inspecting every scratch on his face like you had a doctorate in medicine.

‘I hate this, Tommy… You know how much it scares me.’ He hissed in pain and winced as you dabbed some disinfectant to the gash, you mumbled an apology

‘It’s fine, sugar. I promise. I’m fine.’ He reluctantly let you clean him up, probably thinking it would shut you up, but his nonchalance always felt like a stab to the heart.

‘I mean it. You never tell me anything and you come home late with all these cuts and bruises. Of course it scares the shit out of me, what do you expect?’

Even though you didn’t say it directly, he knew what you were referring to. You’d had this conversation with him countless times before, like when you had noticed his knuckles all cut up, or the bruises he could hide under his clothes, or when you realized that he carried his gun with him wherever he went. He would just tell you the same things over and over. It wasn’t exactly his dream career, but it’s fine. It’s just business, it’s not as dangerous as you think. This is all just part of the job, it’s what pays the bills. He knew you worried about him anyway, despite how many times he told you not to. He could see that sad glint in your eyes every time he came home late at night to find you awake on the couch, and knew you had pictured the worst. He knew what it meant every time you hugged him a little tighter at the door before he left. You loved him. You needed him. 

He gently grabbed your wrists, his large hands easily encircling them. He gazed up at you with softened eyes.

‘Look at me, sugar. It’s just the job. I can handle it, you know that. I told you that a million damn times.’ He was using that tone he always uses when he wants you to calm down. And it always works. That soft, gentle whisper with the right amount of certainty and assuredness. He could’ve told you the world was ending in that tone and it would’ve been okay. ‘And I know you don’t like seein’ me hurt and all, but I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ all the time. I’m strong, I can take it.’ He said the last part with the hint of a smirk crossing his bloody lips, a subtle tease in an attempt to lighten the gloomy mood that hung in the evening air. 

‘I’m still gonna worry, Tommy.’ He noticed the quiver of your lip and the faint sheen of a tear in your eye that threatened to spill down your cheek. He sighed and pulled you into his lap. Your limbs immediately curled around him as naturally as an instinct, and his responded in kind. He stroked your back soothingly, whispering how much he loved you, how he would always come back to you and would never leave you. He squeezed your thighs, kissed your neck, the comforting whispers turned into little gasps, and the night ended with your clothes on the floor, and the two of you tangled up in each others’ bodies.

Nights like those were a common occurrence- he’d come home all bloody, you’d patch him up, then you’d hold each other until the sun rose. You weren’t afraid of him, you were afraid of what he did. You knew exactly what they would say- what did you expect? You should’ve ran for the hills the second he told you about his whole business. Naive little girl. It could only end in tears, if not much worse. You knew you should’ve ran. But you didn’t. They didn’t know what you knew. 

They hadn’t been there on the night you met, at the bar you worked at. They hadn’t seen the way he protected you from a creepy old drunk customer who wouldn’t leave you alone. They hadn’t seen his charming smile when he met your parents for the first time. The way he shook your father’s hand confidently, and hugged your mother, kissing her cheek politely as he welcomed them into your apartment. They hadn’t seen how he’d slaved all day in the kitchen, preparing a meal that would impress them. The way he wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help him, insisting that you let him handle everything so you could relax. He told them he was a contractor, that he worked for his brother. It wasn’t exactly a lie, that was his front- his “laundromat”.

You’d seen his hands balled up into fists, scars adorning his knuckles from throwing punches, but those were the same hands that brushed away your tears and held you with such tenderness whenever you needed them to. You had overheard strings of foul threats flowing so freely from his lips when he took calls in another room and hoped you were out of earshot, but those were the same lips that whispered sweet nothings to you on Sunday mornings while you were still half-asleep, curled up in his arms.

It was getting late and Tommy wasn’t home. You held out on dinner in the hopes that he might be back in time for you to eat together, but it was another one of those nights. You were standing at the sink, cleaning the small array of kitchen utensils you had used to prepare your own meal when the buzz of your cell phone cut through the silence in the house. His name lit up the screen, and you answered.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi, baby. You okay?

‘Yeah, I'm good. Just finished dinner. You on your way home?’

‘No, uh, not yet. I’m a little tied up here.’

‘Oh… Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, no, it’s fine, sugar. don’t worry ‘bout me.’

Normally you would’ve rolled your eyes at his mantra, but his tone was hesitant. You knew he was building up to something, and you knew you wouldn’t like it.

‘Tommy, what is it?’ There was a moment of silence and he sighed audibly through the phone. 

‘I uh… I need you to make a delivery for me, honey. You think you could do that for me?’

‘A delivery?’ for a moment it didn’t register. Then the penny dropped, and you fell silent, frozen in place. 

‘I know, baby, I know. I would normally get one of the guys to do it but none of them can right now. I know it’s a lot but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please, baby.’ There was shame oozing from every word. 

‘What am I delivering?’

For a moment there was more silence.

‘It’s probably better if you don’t know.’

The package was hidden in a nondescript grey shoe box, tucked into the corner of the closet, where he had directed you to look. A brown paper parcel, wrapped in layers of tape, giving no indication of its contents. The weight of it felt like a grenade in your hands. It could have been a grenade, for all you knew. You elected to carry it inside the box to avoid suspicions. The chances of anybody seeing you with it were slim, but your mind was spinning with visions of flashing blue lights and cops and handcuffs.

You stopped the car, right where Tommy had instructed you to. The place was exactly as you had imagined it- a dark alleyway, lit only by your headlights and the dull glow from a flickering streetlight nearby. Grimy exposed brick surrounded you on each side, slick with the rain that hammered down on the hood of your car. Aside from the constant drum of the downpour, it was silent, the archetypal place for an interaction like this. You picked up your phone and hit the call button on Tommy’s contact, lifting the phone to your ear. After a few moments, the dial tone stopped and his voice came through the speaker.

‘Everythin’ alright, sugar?’

You peered out at your surroundings through the teary glass of the windshield. 

‘Yeah, um.. I’m here, but I don’t see anybody.’

‘Just wait, he’ll be there soon, okay?’

‘I don’t like this, Tommy. Why does it have to happen at the set of a slasher movie?’

You heard him chuckle lightly through the phone.

‘S’just to keep you safe, darlin’. Don’t want nobody seein’ you.’

You let out an unamused laugh. Right, no witnesses. Perfect. 

A sharp knock on the fogged glass snatched your attention. You dropped the phone and a small scream escaped you. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your hand, slick with sweat, moved to roll down the window. You knew immediately that this was your guy, just from looking at him. He was tall, although hunched over slightly to peer into the car, broad shoulders bending to lower him down. 

‘You Tommy’s girl?’

You stared up at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in the drivers’ seat. You nodded slightly, practically trembling with fear. He opened the passenger door and sat down in the seat beside you. 

You stared at him in silence for a moment, watching his dark brown eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips, then from your lips to your chest, then from your chest to your hips. The sides of his lips curled up into a sly smirk before his eyes met yours again. ‘I knew he was sendin’ me some presents but they ain’t normally this cute.’ You broke eye contact, weary of giving him the wrong impression as remembered what you were here for and reached into the backseat to grab the shoebox.

‘I um.. I have it.. What you want..’ You shoved it towards him, desperate for him to take it, get out of the car, and for all this to be over. His eyes fell slowly from yours to the package in your hands as you offered it to him. He took it from you, took one look at the parcel inside and nodded, seemingly satisfied with it. Then he placed it on the dashboard of the car, and turned back to face you.

‘He tell you ‘bout my payment?’

Payment? Tommy didn’t say anything about that. And shouldn’t he be paying you for the delivery? Dread was filling your stomach as he sucked in a deep breath, evidently reading your wide-eyed expression as confusion. The glint of a pistol caught your eye, the silvery metal glinting in the weak light. You gasped at the sight of it as he took it out of his pocket, and placed it in the cupholder and held his hands up, reading the virginal fear in your eyes. ‘Look, I ain’t gonna hurt you.. Don’t wanna mess up that pretty lil’ face of yours. But I ain’t leavin’ this car without some kinda deal.’ 

With shaking hands, you started to search for the phone you had dropped onto the floor beneath the driver’s seat, seeing Tommy’s name still on the screen- the call was still active. You held it to your ear.

‘Tommy w-what’s this about a payment? How much do you owe him?’

Another moment of silence. Your heartbeat was ringing so loud in your ears, you barely heard his voice coming through the speaker.

‘Just go with it, baby.’

The metallic clink of your passenger’s belt caught your attention, 

‘Tommy, h-he’s-’

‘ know, baby. Just go with it.’

His darkening eyes burned into yours. “Put him on speaker.” 

You obliged, and for the first time, you allowed your eyes to explore him. His mannerisms were like Tommy’s, as was his tall nose and intense gaze. Your thighs were pinned to each other, a guilty fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you watched his veiny, calloused hands unbuckle his belt while he spoke into your phone, his voice low and gravelly.

‘Sent me a real pretty one, brother. Real cute.’ His voice addressed Tommy, but his deadly gaze was fixed on you.

‘Real sweet, ain’t she, Joel?’ Tommy’s words crackled through the speaker, and your heart dropped. He set you up for this.

When your eyes met back with Joel’s, he patted his lap. You knew what to do, his instructions were clear. You climbed across the centre console shakily, arranging your knees on either side of his thighs. You held yourself slightly above his lap. The thought of another man touching you in this way felt wrong, like a magnetic repulsion was holding you back from him. He rested his hands on your hips, letting out a soft sigh as his eyes roamed your body, your chest, your waist, your hips, your thighs. 

‘Work of art, Tommy.” 

‘Yeah, she’s somethin’ else.’

You bit down on your lower lip hard as your heart twisted with angst and fear in your chest. Joel’s hands squeezed at the flesh of your hips, eliciting a soft gasp.

‘Relax, darlin’. I won’t bite.’ 

‘It's okay, sugar. He ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise.’

‘Course not. Your man would kill me if I did.’ You doubted he was exaggerating. With that, he pulled you down into his lap, leaving no space between you. A small whimper escaped your lips, the rough texture of his jeans teasing you through your panties. ‘This the first time you’re deliverin’ for him?’ You nodded. He raised his eyebrows, his intoxicating gaze travelling across your collarbones, down to your chest. Joel took the phone out of your hand and placed it in the cup holder, next to his gun. His hands gripped your thighs and gradually moved up under the hem of your skirt, stroking your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, his facial hair scratching against the skin. ‘Got a lot to learn ‘bout this trade.’ His rough hands travelled up to your centre, rubbing you softly through the fabric. He let out a low whistle, feeling the dampness between your legs. ‘More into me than you let on, ain’t you, darlin’?’  

A soft sigh came through the speaker of the phone, a sound you knew well. 

‘She ain’t as innocent as she looks, brother.’ A sharp pain stabbed at your chest, hearing Tommy’s voice. He’s allowing this? He isn’t infuriated by just the thought of another man’s hands all over you? Touching you in the place only his hands are allowed to go? The thought enraged you, but you only had the resources available. So you rocked your hips and let out the sweet little whimper you had been holding in, Joel’s thickening hardness beneath you caressing every nerve. He let out a small grunt too, the same grin playing on his lips as he watched your hips grind into his. 

‘That’s it. There you go, just relax. Ain’t gonna hurt you.’

His hands snaked around your waist, squeezing it as his lips met your collarbone, decorating it with his light and lustful kisses, fanning the flames that were growing between your thighs. Your head rolled back, he mumbled against your skin, ‘Gonna give you a lil’ souvenir, darlin’.’ He sucked lightly on the skin at the base of your neck, eliciting another soft noise from you. 

‘Best not be markin’ up my girl, Joel.’

‘Too damn late. She likes it, don’t you, sweetheart?’

You nodded, mumbling a soft ‘Mhm,’ loud enough that Tommy could hear, and you knew he did. His groan came through the speaker, and you could see the vision clearly. His head rolling back and resting on the back of the couch, jeans at his knees, and his hand wrapped around the base of his hard cock, but not moving it to savor his release for later. 

Joel’s thick fingers tapped your thigh, directing you to sit up. You lifted your hips, whimpering desperately at the loss of friction.

‘Don’t think I can wait much longer for this.’ He grumbled as he pushed his jeans down to his knees. You looked down to see the huge tent he was pitching beneath your lap, and his hand palming it. His lustful eyes were trained on yours, his jaw slacking as he took in your features, his voice reduced to a desperate whisper. ‘Real fuckin’ pretty.’ 

His fingers tugged at your panties and you let him pull them down, his fingers immediately returned to your heat, your jaw slacked at the sensation of them tracing your clit without the limits of the cotton. ‘Like that, huh?’

‘What you doin’ to her, brother?’

‘Just playin’ with her lil clit.’

‘You like it, sugar?’

Joel saw your mouth opening to reply to Tommy and applied more pressure, eliciting a gasp from you. 

‘I love it.’ your voice came out breathy and ragged from the pleasure as his fingers drew circles around it. 

Joel withdrew his hand from your clit and tugged his boxers down to his knees, letting his erection spring free and slap his tummy. The length of it almost reached his belly button. He wetted his lips with his tongue, his carnivorous eyes gazing up at yours. 

‘You ready for me, darlin’?’

You nodded eagerly, feeling him lining himself up for entry. He pulled your hips back down hard, and you cried out from the stretch of the intrusion and tried to squirm, but his big hands restrained you, holding you still against him. All you could do was whimper desperately, your nails carving deep crescents into his shoulders while your arousal soaked him. Joel picked up your phone and held it up to your jaw.

‘Tell him how big it is.’ His tone was commanding and dominant as his eyes watched your expression intently, watching how your features contorted in both pain and pleasure.

‘So fuckin’ big, Tommy.’

His groan rattled through the speaker of the phone

‘Bigger than mine, baby?’

Joel’s rough hands squeezed your thighs hard.

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck.’

The corners of Joel’s lips twitched up into that same cocky grin as before, his hands travelling up to your hips and pulling them against him, then pushing them back out again, urging you to move. You immediately obliged. You ground your hips slowly against him, still adjusting to his size. Little grunts of pleasure escaped him as he watched you, his jaw tense and clearly holding back.

‘C’mon, darlin’. I’ve heard you can do way better than that.’ The same pain stabbed at your chest, the thought of Tommy going into detail about your sex life to his brother filling your mind with hot, white rage. So you showed him exactly what he had heard about. Your hips moved faster, feeling every inch of his manhood reaching your depths- deeper than Tommy ever could. You let your noises grow louder, let them drip with lust and pleasure, and made sure your boyfriend could hear it through the phone- made sure he could hear the difference. 

Joel’s teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, his facial hair scratching you lightly as grunts of pleasure rumbled from his throat. He guided your hips with his hands, occasionally bucking up into you, jolting louder whimpers out of you each time his head dug even deeper.

‘Tight lil’ pussy. My brother ain’t stretchin’ you out enough? Feel like a damn virgin.’

Tommy’s voice came through the speaker at that.

‘Tight, ain’t she?’

Joel growled, his dark eyes watching as you swallowed him up over and over again. 

“Won’t be for long.”

He started to buck his hips, fucking you from below. You stopped moving, letting him use you, take what he wanted. Grunts and whimpers fell from both of your mouths, and the windows of your car became cloudier than they already were, save for a desperate handprint and a drop of condensation trailing down from it. Joel was still holding the phone to your ear, letting your noises drip through the phone. The audio was clearly enough fuel for Tommy, his heavy breathing giving you the perfect indication of what the scene was like back home.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty, baby.’ Tommy’s voice was gravelly and soaked in desire. You gushed down below but not for him. Your eyes met Joel’s again, and you began to move, your hips meeting his half way. His head fell back against the headrest, his predatory gaze trained on you. His rough hand moved from your hip, up under your shirt and his thumb rolled over the stiff bud, before grasping your breast roughly.

‘You gonna tell him how good it feels, darlin’?’ he nudged your cheek with the phone, urging you to speak into it.

Your voice had become a trembling, whining mess. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good, Tommy. So good.’ 

‘Yeah? I fuck you better than he does?’ You nodded in response and Joel nudged your face with the phone again, silently commanding you to verbalise it.

‘Yeah, so much better.’ You heard Tommy groan in pleasure and knew you had to dig deeper to get back at him for getting you into all this. Although a part of you wanted to thank him- it really was better. “Fuck, so much deeper. So much harder.”

Joel’s hips started pumping up into you roughly, his grip on you getting tighter, possibly leaving bruises under his fingertips. You moaned as the pain blended with the pleasure he was giving you as he held the phone back to his own mouth.

‘You gonna let me fill up your girl, brother?’

‘You better fuckin’ not, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.’

Joel’s eyes burned into yours, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You looked at him and nodded, and he immediately hit the red button on the screen, then tossed your phone to the empty driver’s seat beside you. Both of his hands gripped your hips tightly, and sweat dampened the skin of his thighs.

‘Bounce on it for me.’ You did. The car started to shake with the force of your movements. If this part of town wasn’t so empty, you’d be expecting a knock on the foggy window from a cop. ‘You gonna let me fill you up? Don’t let him scare you, he ain’t gonna lay a finger on neither of us.’

You nodded, picking up the pace of your hips to meet Joel’s quickening thrusts. His tip kissed your cervix over and over and you cried out from the sensation. He snaked his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer so your chest was flush against his. 

‘You want that? You wanna go home to my brother with it all leakin’ out of you? Bet he’d hate that.’

You nodded, your eyes were locked onto his and you could feel that flame in your stomach turning blue. You whispered, your voice dripping with lust.

‘Wanna piss him off real bad.’

Joel’s teeth gritted as his cock twitched inside you, and with a few more thrusts he erupted, painting your insides white with his release. You fell apart at the same moment, gushing around him with loud whimpers. The force of the orgasm wracked through your body and shook you to your core. He didn’t give you much time to recover before he tapped your thigh, silently commanding you to pull off him. With your body still trembling from the force of your release, you moved back to the driver’s seat and watched him as he tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled his belt. 

‘Pleasure doin’ business with you, sweetheart.’

He picked up his pistol out of the cup holder and tucked it back into his pocket before taking the box and turning to open the door. But your mind weighed heavily with the exchange, so you stopped him.

‘Wait..’ Joel turned to face you, an impatient expression written on his features. ‘..What did I just deliver?’ He stared at you for a moment, not following. ‘The package..?’ He looked down at the box in his hands for a moment before offering it to you.

‘Open it.’

Cautiously, you reached out and took it from him. With slow hands you opened it and started to tear the brown paper wrapping off the parcel, and were met with another paper package inside. But this one was white and blue, with bold letters sprawled across it, spelling out the word “sugar”. Your brows knit together in confusion as you picked it up. 

‘…The fuck is this? Coke?’

You held it up to let Joel see what was wrapped up beneath the paper. He shrugged nonchalantly.

‘Says it’s sugar.’

You stared dumbfounded at the small white bag in your hand. It obviously wasn’t the white powder you thought they sold. And what, Joel couldn’t buy his own groceries? The same vile dread filled your stomach when you concluded that the sugar was just a prop. There was no delivery- your body was the exchange. Joel’s eyes clearly read the realisation on your face and his lips curled up into a smug smirk as he placed a cigarette between them and opened the passenger door, stepping out into the rain.

‘See ya round, sweetheart’

[nightingale-prompts]

Sparing Batboy

First | Previous | Next

"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.

It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.

"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.

Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."

"Dick this is not the time to-"

"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.

Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.

Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.

Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.

Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.

But what can he do now?

He just wanted to find his son.

He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.

A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.

There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.

Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.

And something just snapped.

In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.

He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.

In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.

Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.

"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.

"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.

"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.

She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.

Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.

"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.

"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.

"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.

"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.

Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.

"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."

"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.

"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.

"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.

(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)

(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)

[ghostedgwen]

but I knew you | j.potter [part three]

note : Thank you all so much for the love and support on the two previous parts! I am still trying to get back into writing and getting my old style back but it is still a work in progress. Really happy you lots enjoyed them and are asking to even be tagged in the next parts!

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, Remus is an mvp on this one I love him, mentions of blood and injury, violence, there's a nasty fist fight, a brief moment of a man being a man and some misogyny.

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still  in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧����𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

It's been weird. Actually, that's an understatement. It has been absolute hell ever since that Quidditch accident, no one knew how to act around either you and James.

By now, the whole school knew and with how the school is quick to absorb gossip like greedy sponges, it was quick to be the topic of every conversation.

Girls would throw pitiful looks your way, and it grated your nerves to receive them. You didn't need their pity, not even one bit.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," you groan into your hands, pressed into your closed eyes. "This fucking sucks."

Remus gives you a tight-lipped smile that might as well be empty. "How about retracing your steps?"

You frown, taking your palms off your face and turning to Remus who began putting his book down.

"I'll talk to him, I'll convince him to practise with you."

"Practise what?"

"Remembering. You should know the core memories you two have made throughout your relationship, just recreate those moments with him," Remus shrugged. "Might work."

"It might not." You shake your head, giving up hope before it could even exist.

Remus makes a face at you. "This is so not you, you're not a quitter, ____."

A pregnant pause.

You heave a sigh. "Okay," you give in. "Bloody hell."

.

You watch as James casually approach you. Same mannerisms and all that but he feels unbelievably strange, you almost didn't recognize him with how he regarded you so casually. Curtly nodding and crossing his arms.

"Moony convinced me to humor this," he huffs. "Where are we off to?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to go through with this despite not wanting to do this. This was the only solution that made somewhat sense, and it was ultimately better than waiting it out while you try to act like the problem did not exist.

You click your tongue. "Where you first fell for me," you answered. "In your own words, of course. A bit cheesy for me, in all honesty."

He chuckles at that and you gesture him to follow you which he did. He walks beside you, not too far but also not close enough. You have to constantly remind yourself that it's not his fault. If he had met your James, he would've been pissed at himself right this very moment.

You didn't mind the distance much and continued your strides to the spot. You both pause, he looks around the empty hall with a frown.

"Sirius said he'd make sure the hall was clear for us." You tell him.

How he made it happen doesn't matter to you, but you had a few guesses. No time to dwell on that when he turned to look at you expectantly. You scan him, before speaking again.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

"Honestly?" he licks his bottom lip with hesitation. "Nothing."

Wow, ouch. Okay.

You were about to speak again when he continued - "At first, because I really don't know you. . .but the more I look, the longer I stare at you - I have this urge to hold you."

That brought a small smile out of you. "Seems my James is still in there somewhere."

He didn't react to that, pretending he didn't feel a clutch in his heart at that. You shake your head, forcing the smile away and turned to the very spot you two stood on that day. 

"Muggles science did say that love is in the head, not exactly the heart," you tell him with a bitter chuckle. "I guess you don't abide by that law. You still feel for me, despite not knowing me. I just badly need you back."

You can only imagine how much harder this is on him. While it absolutely hurt to be forgotten by your lover, you can empathize with his situation. How confused he must be to be a 14-year-old in the body of a 16-year-old James.

"How does it feel?" You ask him.

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "I feel weird. Like every inch of my body is on fire but it doesn't hurt. Uncomfortably warm."

You cannot even begin to image what that feels like. "I'm sorry, by the way. I have been too focused on the fact you forgot about me to even realize you lost a whole lot more than that."

He blinks. Your voice was comforting, and your words were kind. He still does not know how he pulled away from Lily, but he can see the appeal of why he fell for you. Your words, how you carried yourself and that confidence that oozed out of your every action without trying hard.

"I'm sorry too." was all he said.

You cleared your throat. "This is where I slapped you, by the way." You laugh humourlessly at your own words. "You had the absolute audacity to imply that you'd buy me, what a right git you were."

You look at him and see him blink in confusion, "What's your last memory before waking up in the infirmary?"

He gives you a huff, dropping his shoulder and walking to the wall with a wide open window. He sat there, leaning against the stone wall with his head hanging low. "I remember just returning to Hogwarts, I had asked Li- Evans out again during the welcome dinner, got rejected again - and I went to bed after arm wrestling with Pads."

You followed him, sitting across him while listening attentively. "Then I woke up, and here I am."

A moment of silence passed, you just watched him. You can see the gears turning in his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts. "It must be extremely hard for you too."

James nod. "It is, because I can see that I'm hurting you - and the lads, but I can't force it out of me. I feel a bit unwanted."

You scoot closer, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true, we're all just struggling as well. You don't know it yet, but Sirius - he could never unwant you, you two are basically soulmates and I am the thirdwheel."

"Does something happen? To him?"

You nod when he lifts his head to look at you. "Yes, but that's not until you both are 15."

"When do you come in?"

You smile bitterly. "Today. The second day during our fourth year, I enter the story."

James' jaw dropped. "I remember everything - until exactly the day I meet you?"

You laugh humourlessly, nodding to his words. "What a cruel joke."

.

"How's it been?" Remus asked, settling beside you on the couch. You had a book propped on your lap and was getting lost in the words when he pulled you out and grounded you back to reality. "You've been at it for a week. What timeline are you in now?"

"Just about finishing up fifth year," you answer him casually. "He's compliant, and behaved. Would you believe that? He's behaved, around me."

Remus laughs. "That's good at least, he's willing to try."

"He said he felt unwanted by us," you tell him, watching his jaw drop. "We got too busy minding the fact he forgot."

"Merlin - " Remus runs a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

"He's 14, right now and he must feel so scared to be in this familiar - yet strange environment he has ended up in. I didn't wanna tell you, he confided in me but I can see how he's been struggling throughout the week. He needs his brothers too, not just me."

Remus slowly nod along your words. "You're right. We thought to give you some space. Pads is still in shock and Peter is just depressed at this point."

You heave a sigh. "We'll get him back, no worries."

.

"____!" You turn to the voice that called you, you spy a familiar boy clad in black and yellow uniform run up to you. He had on a bright grin as he greeted you, a bookbag hanging off his shoulder. "Glad I finally caught up to you."

You frown at him. "You've been looking for me, McLaggen?" 

"Yes," he nods and gestures to you. "But you've been with Potter this whole week."

You blink in confusion. "Of course I will, he's my boyfriend." You answer him bluntly, but he only shrugged at that with a tilt of his head.

"Whole castle knows by now that he's forgotten 'bout you, I thought you two had broken up."

You felt an eye twitch at that. "Nevermind that, why were you looking for me."

"Was hoping I could ask you to be my study partner, for the upcoming Ancient Runes quiz. You are pretty much a genius at it, wouldn't hurt to be tutored by you."

You cross your arm. He's never once had the courage to approach you before ever since James took an interest in you. He introduced himself so confidently when you transferred and even offered to show you around the castle - that was until James entered the picture and everyone steered clear.

No one wants to mess with the Marauders.

"Why would I do that for you?" You ask, having nothing to gain from his proposal whatsoever. He's demanding you help him study in a subject you excel in without even offering anything in return. 

McLaggen flashes you a bright grin. "I'll treat you on a date on the next Hogsmeade trip."

You scoff at his words. "A date? You think I'd accept tutoring you for a bloody date? I'm taken, in case you forgot."

He laughs. "Your boyfriend doesn't even remember you, babe. I'm your next best bet, he's technically just a little boy right now, yeah? What age is he mentally? 12?"

"He lost two years, he's 14, you dumbass." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, does it? He's just a little boy right now, you'll do well with a man."

You hold back a laugh at his words. "You think you're a man then?" You step back, providing more space between you and not once did his height intimidate you throughout the exchange as he address you while looking down. "You are a pig. Take your offer elsewhere, you disgust me."

"____-" he grabs your arm as you turn to leave but another voice also called out your name.

"____!" You turn to find James fast approaching, the rest of his gang trailing after him. "What's going on here?"

You tug at your arm and he finally released it. You fix your posture and glare at McLaggen, "We were just talking." you tell him and can see the anger bubbling in him with the expression on his face.

You turn to meet Sirius' eyes and gesture to James, he acted fast, grabbing him by the arm. "Calm down, mate. She said they were just talking."

"Didn't look like talking to me." James spat.

McLaggen stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. "My bad, mate. You don't even remember ____ anymore, the least you could do is let someone else have her."

You felt your jaw drop at his words, talking about you like you were an item to posses and freely give awya - like you had no say in the matter and you couldn't even process a reaction to his vile words when James swung for his face.

His fist colliding with McLaggen's face and he drops to the ground on the impact. He would have jumped on him as well if Sirius didn't pull him back with Remus who were desperately trying to calm him down.

"The fuck?" McLaggen hissed, clutchinng his now bruised cheek in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell!"

You turn to James, and it all happened so fast. The two boys lost grip on him and he slipped out - jumping on McLaggen to throw more punches but this time, the other boy got to react and returned the favor.

The two exchanged blows while the other three boys tried their best to pull them apart, you were only grateful that the halls are empty or this would be another spectacle for the whole castle.

You run to them, figuring that the three boys' attempts were not working - but it was too late. McLaggen pulled something out of the bookbag he carried - an ink bottle? And smacked James right across the head with it.

"Prongs?" Sirius called out to James who dropped after the hit, McLaggen appeared shocked at the result of his actions. He threw away the bottle and scrambled to get up. 

"James!" You called out and dropped to his side, Merlin - he's out. He's breathing but he is out. The hit must have gotten him good. You angrily turn to see McLaggen running away from the scene. You can deal with him later, you turned your focus to the passed out James. "Bloody fuck, not again."

to be continued . . .

part four | masterlist

[miange1]

HYUN-JU

male reader, reader is a college student, talks of dysphoria, hyun-ju's past, reader doesn't know hyun ju's trans, pining/being smitten, death, crying, scuicidal thoughts, im in love with this woman.

note: i am not trans, im a cis dude. if i ever get something wrong or offensive and you're trans just let me know and i'll fix it. Also I saw something where someone said gyeong-seok probably just thought hyun ju was a cis woman who had a really deep voice and i thought it was funny.

You had been lucky to pass the first game. You were scared out of your mind, and the small group you made from the first few games had died. It was terrible, you had no one. It's surprising how despite everyone being in the same situation— you found no more comfort.

But there was this girl you had seen. She had shoulder length hair, and earrings that truly just suit her. She was really pretty, you wanted to talk to her yet she was always with her own group.

Yet this time, she wasn't. She was just by herself for a moment, was she thinking to herself? Maybe you should talk to her? No, that's a bad idea. Okay, but what else was there to do? You might die without talking to the woman of your dreams.

Mustering up the little courage you had, you went over to her. Hands sweaty the closer you got to her. You wiped it on your slightly blood stained uniform, feeling even more icky realizing you were bloody.

Getting closer to her, you sat on a mattress. Shit, what now? You cleared your throat, "H..hi." you felt like you were back in highschool. Mouth dry as if you were talking to your fist crush. She looked over to you, a small smile on her curious face. "Hi."

She spoke to you, holy crap she spoke to you.

"How uh— how are you?" You stuttered.

But before she could answer you shook your head, blurting for her not to answer that stupid question. Jesus your face was burning up, felt like you had a fever.

"I'm sorry," You were able to get that out. "This is dumb, I just thought you were really pretty and.." She hadn't broken eye contact with you, but you could barely look at her. "In a situation like this it's pretty weird to say something like that to someone isn't it?"

"You think I'm pretty?"

You shut your mouth, looking at her oddly. "Yeah..of course i do. Do you not think so?" She scoffed, thinking you were joking. She had just gotten called beautiful by young-mi, and she believed it she truly did. But hearing it from someone she barely knew? Made her feel like crying again.

"I have been called a lot of things, yet not pretty. I only expected to be called pretty after my transition." That was where you made another face more confused than before. "Transition?" Your voice spoke with genuine confusion.

She raised her eyebrow at you, then rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you can tell." You really couldn't. There was nothing you had against transgender people at all, but it doesn't change the fact you couldn't tell.

"I really wasn't aware, was that offensive to you?" She stared at you for a moment, bursting out laughing after a while and earning some stares. "My voice? Even hearing me, you weren't aware?" You shook your head and shrugged.

"I just thought you had a naturally deep voice." Oh you were making her feel so much better, even if you didn't know it. She couldn't stop laughing, grabbing onto your shoulder as a touch of affection. It made you smile and laugh with her, your own hand touching hers to reciprocate.

The two of you had deeper talks over time until the next game. She told you what you guessed she told the others, about her plan on what to do with the money, how she had others distance themselves from her when she told them she felt like a woman. It made you feel bad, but you were happy she was telling you this because it felt like you had known each other for so long.

You wished it lasted longer

—

"Six." The moment it was spoke, you had been pulled by hyun ju. It was a habit she was making, always grabbing you the moment the she heard the number. But this time, she made a mistake. She realized last minute young-mi was too behind.

She panicked, no one else seemed to have room and it was a moment of time before she absolutely had to close the door.

Hyun ju's grip stayed on you, it seemed to get tighter the more stressed she got. Young mi was just a kid, she deserved to live on.

"10, 9, 8,"

You only had so much time to decide. You yanked yourself from hyun ju's grip, and she instantly gave you a look as if you were stupid. "What are you doing?" She wanted to save you both, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You didn't speak, only letting your lips touch hers quickly, yet you stayed as long as you could. Even in death you would always remember her lips, they trembled against yours, confused, yet wanting and needing more. You let yourself run out, pushing the girl inside. "1."

It was done, and there was nothing that could be done. You heard the yell of her voice, panicking and shaking the door trying to get it to open. "No, no, unlock the door! God damn it!"

"I love you." She stopped, looking at you in your eyes. You were scared too, crying even. You didn't want to die, and she knew it. She was so deeply in love with someone she only knew for a few hours, but it felt like years. She needed you, she wanted you to live. Get to know you better when this was all over, maybe even go further if it could!

She couldn't even say it back while you were conscious. The life left your eyes, and your body fell. "No.." she was in disbelief. No, you weren't dead.

"Please, please, I love you too.." She couldn't be upset at anyone, she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

"Unnie." Arms wrapped around her, "Come on..you have to get up..the next round." She didn't want to play anymore, she didn't feel like she could. If only it was her, she could have at least had hope for you and young-mi.

Damn it

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write Frank and Matt having a romantic rivalry for reader please? :3

This is too long.

You’d have to either be someone within the vigilante business to know either man, or have relations to one of them before meeting the other for this to happen.

So for this let’s say you’ve met Matt first and then later met Frank by accident, a bloody accident but an accident nonetheless, one of which that will end up with you being the object of desire for these two beautiful men.

Matt and yourself had originally a fun, lighthearted and flirty friendship where the lines were often times blurred, so much to the point where neither of you knew exactly where you stood in it. However all the flirty exchanges and smiles and lingering touches meant nothing as it was just something that came naturally to you and Matt. There would be occasions where Matt would lightly hold onto your arm when walking down the street together, or even griping your bicep to move you out of the way of bumping into someone, and or even trip and fall on something hazardous ahead of you.

‘Matt what’re you-‘

‘You were about to have collided with that rowdy group just now,’ he says calmly as he held you close to him before using his cane to tap your shoe lightly, ‘and also your shoelaces are untied, I could hear the aglets clicking again the pavement for the past five minutes, so it’s best you sort that out before you end up falling for me…well more then you’ve already have.’ He adds with a sly smile, knowing full well that your heart had elevated a little, proving his words has a bit of weight.

How could you not when this charming man has the audacity to smile at you and his obnoxiously handsome face.

Your relationship with Matt was light and nothing between you two was ever guaranteed, for nothing was promised even if true feelings had begun to blossom forth from your various interactions, and it didn’t matter whether you and Matt had some unspoken thing because it didn’t guarantee that you two would ever act upon it in the slightest.

Yet that doesn’t help the ache within your heart whenever you saw Matt cozy up with another person in the same playful way he did with you, smiles and lingering touches and all. But again you knew nothing between you and Matt was ever guaranteed as neither of you spoke to each other about your feelings, even though you had an inkling that Matt knew for a long while, however that didn’t change the fact that his ear was now tuning to listen to another heart other then yours.

However Matt’s tune changed once again when you encountered the man known as Frank Castle.

Frank wasn’t easy upon first meeting, he was intimidating and powerful as the guns he carried, along with the ominous skull he wore upon his chest that would ultimately be the last thing anyone would ever see followed by the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room: ending their lives within the blink of an eye.

He wasn’t exactly welcoming, nor warm either as he would do whatever he could to keep you well more then just an arms length away from him, and with reason. Frank would snarl, shout curse, shove you away when you got too close for his liking but you could see he was deeply hurt and you weren’t about to let him leave without at least helping him; something he’s deemed himself far beyond with everything he’s ever done with his calloused hands. He had a heart but it was heavily buried under reinforced steel that was meant to keep it guarded against whatever that may come his way.

‘When will you learn to quit!’ He barked at you once, eyes wide as though he was intentionally trying to scare you away, but all you saw was a deeply wounded and angry man who’s now trying to make sense of everything after he’s lost his everything, his family.

‘When you finally learn to accept that some people are more than willing to give help despite the danger it’ll put them under.’ You said calmly, never once raising your voice as it wouldn’t get anything done in the slightest, if anything it’ll only made things worse between you and the man who looked more and more like an abused dog left to die.

‘Have fun dying on that hill.’ He spat, squaring up his shoulders.

‘Gladly.’ You replied.

Frank was a man prone to anger and frustration and resentment, so much so it was borderline unpleasant to be near him, especially when his mind was made up and he was determined. Now that was a recipe for disaster.

However you do break through this process in due time and beneath it all is a man who’s more likely to smack your hand away from the stove as he cooks you something whenever you happen to let him crash after his vigilante escapades.

‘It’s my home.’ You say upon seeing him after following the salivating scent of bacon.

‘And I’m repaying you for that sweetheart, so sit down and let me do this as a favour.’ He retorts, stubborn and not willing to give up his position at the stove. So your left stood next to him, watching him as he worked to make the best damn breakfast you’ve ever had in your entire life. And it’s filling too so you’re never going hungry, ever.

Yet life finds ways to make a simple thing complicated as soon enough Matt and Frank after running into each other several times, both have quickly figured out that you were the one consistent person they’d always return to no matter what, and the signs were obvious. And neither of them were exactly happy to know this.

Matt thought Frank was too dangerous for you, meanwhile frankly thought Matt wasn’t right for you, not dedicated to being with you as much as he was daredevil.

‘You ain’t shit red, you can’t even prioritise what it is you want and you’re going to end up leading them on!’ Frank says one night.

‘At least I’m keeping them safe from all of this,’ Matt hisses, ‘they shouldn’t be involved with all of that entailed in what we do and yet you let them here anyway!’ He adds, upset that you were now within the chaotic mess that was usually the normal in being a vigilante.

‘Well I’m not seeing you do enough to keeping them safe!’ Frank shouts, closing the distance between the two as the air seemed to quiver at the tense moment between them. ‘They shouldn’t have to second guess themselves on whether you like them or not, so stop playing with their heart already and give them the truth!’

‘And you think you could give them that?’ Matt questions, concerns of your safety with Frank arise to the forefront of his mind. ‘You think you can guarantee their safety? Prioritise their feelings?’

‘Better than you ever could, that’s for certain.’ Frank says stone faced.

So this kickstarts a rivalry between the two men on who’s better fit for you.

Matt would hog your days by taking you out to coffee places where he would always be making jokes that made you laugh, or just touching some part of you like your arm, elbow, knee or hand and caressing it with his thumb; which sent butterflies within your stomach. Even if you knew Matt didn’t need someone to aid him places, he always insists that you let him hold onto your arm, or just keep you close in general so he knew you were nearby by your warmth.

You even have moments at Josie’s when Frank wasn’t available. Moments where your night ends in shared laughter and you sleeping over at his place. (Matt was bullshiting about Frank, he just wanted a evening with you and had to try to not smile when he could practically sense his frustration and anger from a mile away)

Whereas Frank would hog your evenings/ nights where you were more likely to see him with a new scratch, or recently treated wound on him as the pit bull he had saved lounged close next to you. The dog’s head rested on your lap as you were tucked into franks side, making sure not to touch anything that was sensitive or tender to touch, all the while Frank was rubbing soothing patterns into your skin; something so tender for a man like him but you couldn’t help but tuck yourself even closer to the man, feeling more protected then you ever had before.

Seeing Frank muck about with the young pit bull never failed to make you smile, for seeing him happy was a sight you’d never thought you’d see but you wouldn’t mind seeing more of in the future, should he allow you to be apart of his life however. (Spoiler: he most certainly was eager to keep you in his life. Hence the flowers he tended to get you on the rare occasion)

Both men had their pros and cons but your heart couldn’t decide who it wanted more, Frank the rugged man who’s a softie beneath all the trauma he’s experienced, or Matt the playful flirt with the deepest insight on life then anyone you’ve ever met. It was only hard because both men made it hard to choose.

[lay-z]

You're not quite sure why you stayed after finding out about them, but something did and continues to do so—and now you're too ashamed to admit it to anybody.

Perhaps that's why you keep it to yourself and try to live with it, the horrible fact that Johnny cheated on you with a colleague, a comrade.

He didn't even apologize properly, didn't promise you that he will stop the affair and never see Simon again, because despite everything, you are aware that would simply not be possible.

Johnny did none of the things that happen in the movies. No groveling, no begging for forgiveness, nothing.

When you confronted him with the evidence you'd gathered, he confessed. Plain and simple. Eyes shining bright, a hint of challenge in their freakishly blue depths.

And he keeps telling you that he loves you, and you know it's utterly stupid, but you desperately want to believe it.

The relationship doesn't stay the same, of course it doesn't. There is the lingering tension between you and him, and that gut-wrenching feeling of never truly knowing what Johnny is up to when he's at work, deployed, away from you.

Although one thing is for sure—Simon is always there. A looming, lingering presence, even if you've never even met the man.

And whenever you try to pull away, to leave, to resist him in some way or another, Johnny makes sure to reel you back in again. Always the charmer. A bloody manipulator.

You continue to take the bait like some dumb goldfish who keeps forgetting what happened, what he did to you.

"Cannae give yer man a proper kiss anymore, hm?" he asks when you kiss him on one scruffy cheek instead of his mouth one day.

But how dare he sound accusatory, when the image of him sucking a man's cock or kissing a different pair of lips is ever present in your mind nowadays.

"I–I just—" And before you can come up with an excuse, Johnny cups your jaw tightly and presses his lips to yours, teeth clashing with the force he puts behind it, calloused fingertips digging into your flesh as he pries your lips apart to lick into your mouth.

When he pulls back again, fingers easing up at ladt, he gazes down at you with a mixture of pleasure and adoration, thumb caressing your puffy bottom lip.

"Always so fuckin' bonnie," he murmurs under his breath, and you hate how your heart still flutters at his compliments.

Johnny can't wait to introduce you to him.

[httpvomitello]

Love your writing !!! Can you do like when reader finds out they are expecting but post hogwarts? Sounds silly but I can’t help but think of how excited George would be thank you :3

Hellooo, thank you for the request and I hope you like it ~ ♡

(btw guys, i'm also taking requests for the Avengers now!)

Little Lights .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: You and George Weasley have built a quiet life after the war, healing in your own way. But when you find out you're expecting, everything changes — not just for you, but for George.

The house you and George had shared since the war wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A little crooked, a little loud, a little cluttered — in short, very Weasley. The kettle was always slightly burnt at the bottom, your living room walls were lined with mismatched frames, and the sofa had a permanent dent where George liked to collapse after a long day at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

You’d been living together for almost a year now — and dating even longer.

Sometimes, you missed the younger version of him. The louder George, the one who joked constantly, whose laugh bounced off every surface. But you loved this one too. The one who held you tighter in the middle of the night. The one who needed more quiet than before. The one who, despite everything, still tried to be okay.

He still talked about Fred sometimes. Not as often anymore, but when he did, his voice always dropped to a whisper. Like Fred was still somewhere nearby and might answer.

You let him grieve at his own pace. And you loved him at his own pace, too.

That morning, when you threw up for the third time in a week and nearly passed out at the smell of George's breakfast sausage, something inside you clicked.

You didn’t panic. You didn’t even speak. You just slipped into the loo, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out the test you'd picked up at the apothecary two days ago — just in case.

You didn’t expect to cry.

And yet there you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, positive result in hand, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Because this wasn’t just about you anymore. Or even about George. It was about someone new. Someone tiny. Someone who had no idea what kind of world they were about to come into.

When George came home that evening, he immediately noticed something was off. His brows furrowed, and he pulled you into a hug before saying a word.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him — your freckled, tired, lovely George — and took a breath.

“I need to show you something.”

You didn’t speak as you handed him the test. He blinked. Once. Twice. The silence stretched. He sat down on the couch slowly, his hands still holding the test, eyes glued to the little symbol glowing on the surface.

“You’re pregnant?”

You nodded.

George said nothing for a long while. Just stared. You felt your heartbeat in your throat.

Then: “Bloody hell.”

You laughed, mostly from nerves. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

He stood, running a hand through his hair — a habit that usually meant he was overwhelmed. You felt the first flicker of fear.

“Are you… are you okay?” you asked quietly.

George turned to you — and for a second, you couldn't read his expression.

Then he crossed the room in two strides and wrapped you in his arms so tightly you thought he might break.

“You’re really having our baby,” he whispered against your hair. “Merlin, I… I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t think…”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His own were damp.

“I didn’t think I’d live long enough to have something this good again.”

Your heart broke and mended in the same breath. You cupped his face.

“You deserve this, George. We both do.”

He kissed you — slow and deep and shaky — like he was still trying to convince himself this was real.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. George refused to let you carry anything heavier than a spoon. He made you tea every morning and sat next to you during every bout of morning sickness, looking pale and helpless.

Molly, when she found out, burst into tears and knit three baby blankets in the same week. Ron told George he was going to be the worst dad ever, which in Weasley-speak meant he was thrilled. Ginny grinned and started suggesting baby names.

But there were hard days too.

Nights when George would hold your belly with such reverence and whisper things you couldn’t hear. Mornings when he looked like he’d seen a ghost. You never pushed. You just held his hand and let him talk when he was ready.

One night, curled in bed, his fingers tracing light circles over your bump, he whispered, “Do you think Fred would’ve been a good uncle?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “The best.”

George nodded slowly. “I’ll tell them about him. Everything. I want them to know.”

“They will,” you said, kissing his shoulder. “They’ll know all the best things. Because they’ll see them in you.”

He didn’t answer, but you felt the way he held you tighter.

The day your child was born, it was raining — a soft, steady rain that tapped gently against the hospital windows.

George never left your side. Not for a second. His hand in yours, his eyes never leaving your face. He cried before you did. Big, messy, shameless tears when your baby — your daughter — let out her first cry.

You watched him hold her like she was the most fragile, precious thing he’d ever seen.

“She’s so tiny,” you whispered, exhausted.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered back, kissing your forehead and then hers. “She’s perfect.”

[eowynstwin]

Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

♡ TW: orphan!reader, fire, Sukuna in general, kidnapping, implied abuse

♡ GN reader

The temple’s on fire.

Tall crackling flames lick the black sky. You stand and watch wide-eyed as it smokes out every star.

Barefoot, you grip the ground with your toes to steady yourself. You’ve never owned shoes. Never needed to, you’ve never been outside, and now all you’ve ever known is burning to the ground before you. 

The scent of burning wood is joined by blood, rusty and bitter and biting, and even though your nose is stuffed full, you can’t seem to get enough of it.

Taking a big breath you really can’t afford, you cough while smiling from ear to ear.

There’s screaming, but you’re used to the sound. Or no, this is a little different. You’re used to ripping your own throat out, but it’s not you this time. It’s everyone else: the monks, the nuns, the others. They’re all melting—melting away into nothing. Some might say it’s for their sins, but you know better than to believe in divine intervention.

No, this all happened on a whim.

And you'll be sure to thank whoever's whim it is, you think as you watch the temple collapse in on itself with a big crash, ashes to ashes. And with the red reflecting in your eyes, you let out a sound you’ve never made before. A loud, boisterous sound—not far off from a scream, but so very different all at the same time.

Sukuna stops his rampage at the noise. Skin sizzling with sweat that doesn’t roll, but steams and disappears. Swimming in the carnage with blood up to his elbows—he’d been having a fun time. He’s always loved making graveyards out of sanctuaries. But the laughter that cuts through the air over the cries of pain and despair is all so misplaced that he has to drop what he’s doing and go find it.

And what he finds is you. Dainty little malnourished thing. If he couldn't tell already, the tattered rags you wear make it more than obvious what you are. Orphan. And the bruises lining your joints tell him all about what they used you for. 

Some holy place this was, he sneers.

Very soon, your laughter grows ecstatic, and you start jumping in place, as high up as you can reach, barefoot on the heated gravel.

You must be in shock. He’s surprised you’re even able to stand, much less be whooping and hollering with all these hellflames surrounding you, not to mention his presence, which should be enough to force anyone to their knees. 

One might mistake you for a demon if you're not careful.

“Oi, brat,” he announces.

Still, you don’t stop your celebration—you take your time before you sigh with a deep exhale, looking up at the sky where the embers snuff against the black backdrop.

You don’t even acknowledge him as you speak. “You have my gratitude… Never in my life did I even dream of seeing anything so beautiful...”

He has to snort. It's been a while since anyone has thanked him for anything. Actually, coming to think of it... he doesn't think he's ever been thanked before whatsoever.

You keep looking up for another moment. There’s this air of peacefulness around you despite the surrounding fiery chaos. 

And then, just as calmly, you finally turn around to face him.

“I can die happy now.”

Eyes closed, and arms spread out to your side, you lift your chin and show him your neck. And with a contented smile spread on your lips, you say, “You have my blessing to kill me.”

And oh, how it makes his eye twitch. His smile, as well—or no, it’s not a smile, it’s more of an affronted grimace. 

Giving him thanks is one thing, but blessing? To kill? 

Now that’s definitely a first…

“Hey!” you squeal as the bloody demon picks you up off your scorched feet and throws you over his back instead of dealing you the final blow. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

His face remains jaded even through your screaming, only arching a brow when scoffing. “Tch—pint-sized brats should know better than to give orders.”

The way you pound his back with balled fists feels like nothing short of rain-patter. Not even enough to be called a message, much less a beating—or whatever it is you're hoping to achieve, whilst roaring, “I gave you my blessing!”

He nearly gags at the word. “I don’t take lives in turn for dumb things such as blessings.”

“Then you don’t have it!” you snip. “I’ll curse you instead!”

“Hah!” That’s more like it—he laughs, needing to throw his head back, “I’ve been bored lately. You’re funny for a runt, so I think I’ll keep you around for a while,” he wonders out loud for you to hear, continuing to carry you away from the wreckage.

“I’ve heard pets help pass the time.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[httpsdana]

heyyyyy, i love your work, please can you do where you’re pau cubarsi’s girlfriend and your a med student and take care of him after your injury xxxxx

Healing Touches~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

Pau laid on y/n's couch, his head resting on the armrest with a slight grimace, trying to act casual despite the fresh stitches along his jawline. The injury had happened during his last match, an unfortunate clash that had left him with ten stitches and y/n with a heart full of worry. He’d been patched up by the team doctors, but that didn’t stop her from fretting over him.

y/n sat beside him, brushing a careful hand along his uninjured cheek, studying the stitches with a concerned frown. “Does it hurt a lot, Pau?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a lopsided smile, clearly trying to look unfazed. “cariño, it’s just a few stitches. Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied, attempting to shrug off her worry.

She shot him a gentle but stern look. “Pau, it’s ten stitches across your jaw. Don’t act like this is just a scratch,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly through his hair. “You need to rest, and I’ll make sure you do.”

Pau let out a small sigh, reaching up to take her hand in his. “I know you’re studying to be a doctor and all, but I’m pretty sure the team patched me up well enough,” he teased, giving her hand a light squeeze.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Well, maybe they did, but I still want to take care of you. You got hurt, Pau, and that’s not something I’m just going to brush off.”

He shifted slightly, pulling her closer so she was leaning over him, a playful look glimmering in his eyes. “Fine, but only because you’re so cute when you’re in ‘doctor mode,’” he teased, his voice soft.

She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a small smile. “Pau, I’m serious. Now, have you had any water? You need to stay hydrated for healing,” she scolded gently, reaching for the glass she'd brought him earlier.

He chuckled softly, the sound a little muffled by the stitches, and took the glass from her hand, making a show of drinking. “Happy?” he asked, giving her a little wink as he set the glass down.

“Not yet,” she replied, brushing her thumb lightly over the edge of his jaw, careful to avoid the stitches. “But we’ll get there.”

His hand reached up to cup hers, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at her. “Thank you for taking care of me, amor. I know you’re busy with your studies and all…”

She shushed him softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. “You’re more important. Now, let me fuss over you, and stop trying to act like you don’t need it,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his injury. “Guess I have no choice but to let my very cute, very smart med student girlfriend look after me,” he said, pulling her down into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

She relaxed into his embrace, careful to avoid his jaw but grateful to feel his warmth, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. It always amazed her how Pau could be so calm and lighthearted, even with stitches on his face. But she knew he was doing it mostly for her, to keep her from worrying too much.

Pau’s fingers traced gentle circles on her back, and he tilted his head slightly, looking at her with that same adoring expression. “You know, amor,” he started, a teasing tone slipping in, “if I knew getting hurt would get me this much attention from you, I’d have gotten injured ages ago.”

She pulled back slightly, playfully swatting his arm. “Pau Cubarsi, don’t you dare joke about that! You better not even think about getting hurt again. I was so worried when I saw you all bloody and in pain ” she scolded, but her voice softened as she met his gaze, the affection in his eyes making her heart flutter.

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a feather-light kiss to your fingers. “I promise, I’m kidding,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her hand. “But I have to admit… I love this side of you, so caring and worried.”

“You make it sound like I’m never caring,” she replied, pouting slightly.

“No, no,” he laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You’re always caring. But right now, it’s like you’re my personal nurse. I kind of like it.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay?” she whispered, feeling her voice soften. “I want you to be all healed and safe. now do you need me to get you something?”

Pau pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m already feeling better just being with you, cariño, I don't need a thing” he murmured. “It’s like you’re my medicine.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“For you? Always,” he grinned, his hand moving to stroke her cheek. “Now, doctor, what’s my next treatment? I think it might involve lots of cuddles.”

y/n rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled him close again. “Fine, but only because you need it.” she shifted carefully, lying beside him on the couch so he could rest his head on her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

“See? This is the best medicine,” he murmured, his lips pressing light kisses along her collarbone.

y/n giggled, feeling his warm breath against her skin. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” she reminded him, trying to keep a serious tone but failing as she felt herself melt into his embrace.

“Then just let me hold you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You’ve done enough, cariño. I’m okay now, really.”

She let out a sigh, relaxing in his arms, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “I love you, Pau,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, heartfelt gaze. “I love you too, amor. And thank you… for always being here. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

His words made her heart swell, and she reached up to cup his face, bringing him close enough for a gentle, lingering kiss. His lips were soft against hers, the familiar warmth filling her with a comforting peace.

When she finally pulled back, Pau’s eyes were still closed, a content smile playing on his lips. “Now, that’s what I call the perfect remedy,” he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper.

y/n chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Then get some rest, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

He opened one eye, giving her a playful smirk. “Only if you stay here with me, nurse.”

“Fine,” she whispered, settling into his arms and pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

She stayed close, feeling his breathing slow as he drifted into sleep, holding her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

[clingonlikeclingwrap]

I’m in hysterics over Feng Xin naming Nan Feng, it’s one thing to name a disguise that, it’s a whole OTHER thing naming a completely grown person that 😭 bro deadass changed TWO letters is he fr? 😭 I know Nan Feng is sick of him omg my chest genuinely hurts I can’t breathe 😂

I’m down on my knees here, how did Nan Feng react to that name? If my boss gave me a new name that had a two letter difference from his I would be concerned he’s trying to become my dad

HAHA NOW THAT'S A THOUGHT

At the time he was a bit too preoccupied to think about it, but when it registers later… well, it ends up becoming a secret point of pride, despite how fucking embarrassing it is 🤦

Nan Feng and Fu Yao are real deputies AU Masterpost

(Writing wip under cut)

It could have been ten times longer, or a hundred times more bloody. It could have been the cruellest slaughter you’d ever seen, could have left not a single survivor. But in the end, the pages of history did not have space for an insignificant skirmish such as this. Seemingly important, as all things were in the moment, but ultimately forgettable—by now, 600 years had passed. Who still bothered to remember? Who still lived on to wallow?

A single soldier.

Conscripted from the streets, an orphan with no name—but he’d been called all sorts of things while he fought. Frequently on the battlefield were insulting monikers like wild beast and monster brat and unkillable barbarian. And at moments of reprieve there were made-up endearments and nicknames from comrades and friends, a taste of something he’d never had before. That child had joined the army because he had nothing to lose; how ironic that only there did he find anything he wanted to keep.

But though he was greedy and clutched everything he had desperately, they slipped through his fingers all the same. One by one, then all at once. Toppled, fallen, destroyed. Nothing but ash and bone now.

So the war was over, but the battles never ceased. He’d only just grown into a name, but had no one left to call it; he had an urge for revenge, but no longer enemies to taste it. He owned nothing but a sword in his fingers and sputtering resolve in his chest, so he walked, and regretted, and having nothing better to do, joined in any fight that crossed his path. He fought because everything there was to lose, had already since been lost.

He should have learned, really. How foolish was it to make the same mistake twice? Another name laid to waste, dying along with all the ones who knew it.

But this time, someone else stood with him in the aftermath. Gore weighed down his blade, bodies stained the battered field, and he could hardly tell anymore if that warm wetness on his face was sweat or blood or tears—but someone breathed, beside him. Someone spoke.

“You,” that person called. “You fought well. What’s your name?”

“I am no one,” he said. And again, I have nothing.

“Then what do I call you?”

Names only mattered in the mouths of those who spoke it, and twice now had his been erased from living memory. Oh, he never learned. So as for what he should be called…

“You can decide.”

It must’ve been a good name after all, because 600 years had passed since then, and Nan Feng still bore it.