#this girl plans out so much. in advance

[pokeybananas]

Y'all, THE ERAS TOUR OPENING BACKGROUND!!!

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

I am going to try writing… the last time I wrote Anything was sometime in early-ish December I think… starting again is quite intimidating and a bit scary. HOWEVER, posting about it on tumblr makes it feel a bit less intimidating and scary.

[mickyschumacher]

hey! how are you? hope you’re doing great, also hope your studies are going great and you are not going insane (i study medicine)

anyway, i took a break and read ICE CREAM CAKE and it’s literally the best i’ve ever read…. so i was wondering if you just like to do some other like that one with Lando still, i mean not necessarily at the beach (which could be good because they are in summer break) maybe Ibiza, a yatch, i don’t really know, but with the same topic of lando being just randy lmfao

thank u sm for reading this lol

[STRAWBERRIES & CREAM!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a trip to ibiza is supposed to have lando relaxing. but it turns out you can relax in various different positions. or in which you'll never forget this trip to ibiza.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, established relationships inadvertent sex dynamics (soft!dom!lando), light praise kink, oral sex/eating out, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (be safe ya'll), cumming inside, mutual orgasms, orgasm denial, use of good girl, degrading use of strawberries and cream – foodplay?, indirect mentions of mental health // poorly proof-read ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k+

𝐀/𝐍: apologies in advance if i've ruined strawberries and whipped cream for anyone... anyways, hey love! i'm doing alright! hope you're doing well too! also medicine girl... stay strong! sending you my prayers 🙏 hopefully you can reward yourself with this! <3

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Ibiza was a trip you had been planning for months. Perfectly planned for the small summer break, with all this talk about championships and leads, you wanted to ensure Lando was thinking about something else. The boy needed to relax. And you were going to help.

Ibiza was always Lando's favourite getaway. This time, with the help of Max, you had gotten a yacht. So it was you, Lando, and miles and miles of the prettiest waters.

"Uh uh uh, no," you clicking your tongue at your boyfriend lying on the sun lounger, shirtless. You took Lando's phone out of his hand and put it aside. "We said no phones."

Lando gave you a blank stare, sighing dramatically as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you onto him. "I'm not five," he reminded.

You grinned enthusiastically, wrinkling your nose before dropping it. "I would beg to differ." You smiled softly, rubbing the creases on his forehead gently, pressing a light kiss. "It's our holiday. We should enjoy it before I have to send you off again."

Lando sighed, relishing your touch under the sun. The waters were calm, the wind cooling. This was what he wanted. You and him, together, relaxing. "I know," he murmured, pushing his lips against your bare arm while his arms roamed your thighs, exposed by your coverup.

You pursed your lips, thumb rubbing his cheek lightly. Your heart lurched at the occupied look on his face. You could tell what he was thinking about immediately. You tapped his nose, getting his attention. "You think too much, Lan. Now come on. Let's make lunch."

━━━━━━━━━━━

If it was up to Lando, lunch would've been an absurd amount of spring rolls and a Red Bull (but a Monster if anyone asked). But he admired the effort you put in, even if it was the both of you in the kitchen of the yacht where you yelled at him for not cutting the fruit properly.

"Stop cutting them so thinly! They're meant to be edible," you mumbled, nudging your boyfriend lightly as you eyed the slices of banana.

Lando frowned. "I'm trying my best here. You could at least be a little more appreciative," he joked.

You gave him a pointed look, finishing taking off the stems of your strawberries. "Ah, yes, thank you, baby," you cooed, "for starving me on a yacht in the middle of nowhere."

Lando rolled his eyes, unable to stop grinning, watching you grab and open a jar of cream. "And you say I'm dramatic."

He could hear you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you placed the strawberries on the plate. He sighed, ditching the knife and banana before stretching his arms around your waist, chest pressed against your back while he left small kisses on your shoulder. "Thank you," he mumbled. "For all of this. I don't deserve you."

You pursed your lips, moving the jar of cream to the middle of the plate. "Yeah, you do," you said, turning to face him, letting your arms hand around his neck. "You deserve all this and more, my little overthinker," you smiled softly, tapping his nose.

Lando smiled in return, dipping his head to meet your lips. His arms pulled you closer to him, thumbs drawing idle circles on your skin as he tasted you. He was delicate, taking his time to explore your mouth while a reverent hum of satisfaction ran through your body.

While he was evaporating all the air from your lungs, claiming each and every single one of your breaths, you pushed him away slightly when you heard a needier moan escape his throat. "Okay, pretty boy," you grinned against his lips, voice breathless. "Time for lunch."

Lando pouted, his hands in your hair. "I'm sporting a semi and you're talking about lunch?"

He beamed at the sound of your laugh and the sight of your head thrown back. You sighed, calming yourself down. "Yes, I very much am. Now come on."

Lando groaned, watching you peel away from him and gather some of the plates from the kitchen island, moving them towards the dining area in the yacht. He grumbled something incoherent, grabbing the rest of the food and following after you.

You smiled with content as you both sat across each other, eyeing all the food you had prepared. Strawberries and cream, fruits and pretzels, and some chicken you made yesterday for grease.

You and Lando ate while you talked a bit about everything. A new video on his channel after doing nothing for so long. Wanting to go play pool with Max and you. Even talks of adopting a dog, although you may need a little more persuasion on that one. None of it was about racing and you were glad.

"I mean terriers are cute. Oh my God, a yorkshire–" Lando paused, eyeing you from across the table with a raised brow. "What are you doing?"

You looked at him confused. "I'm eating. What are you doing?"

Lando looked at you blankly. "W-Why are you eating it like that?"

"How else am I supposed to eat cream covered strawberries?" You mumbled.

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, watching your lips wrap around the strawberry, it's red juice and the cream sauce coating your lips as you took a bite, letting the liquid hang off your lips. He had seen this exact scene before. Except it was two weeks ago in his hotel room with his cum dripping from your lips.

He swallowed thickly, putting his legs together. "Well stop," he muttered. "It's obscene."

You blinked, raising a brow. Oh? You pressed down your grin, dipping your strawberry back into the cream, ensuring the whole thing was covered before you put it back into your mouth. You moaned. "These are so good, Lan. You have to try some," you stated, tongue darting out to swipe the remaining white cream off your lips.

Lando could feel his mouth dry and resolve breaking with every second. If this was a test of any sorts... he needed to remain strong. "Sure," he mumbled, grabbing a strawberry for himself and doing the same. You weren't wrong. They tasted great. He imagined, however, they tasted better on your lips.

You smiled coyly, lips parting when you dropped some cream on your chest, a bead of white rolling down your breast, stopping at the seam of your bikini. "Whoops," you feigned a gasp. "Who knew cream could be so messy?"

The semi Lando had once been sporting was getting harder. He could've sworn he felt his cock twitch when you picked up the cream from your chest and licked it off your finger, remnants still shining on your breast. "Oh my God, stop," he sighed out, lifting his hips to adjust himself in chair.

"What?" You shrugged innocently, teeth sinking into your lips as you dipped two fingers into the cream and brought them to your mouth.

"Oh Christ," Lando muttered under his breath, rubbing his face. Those fingers... he wanted to suck them. He wanted to pin them down while he fucked you. He breathed out slowly, putting his hands on the table while his blue eyes stared at you heavily. "If I opened your legs right now, would I find you wet like a bitch in heat? Yes or no?"

You sucked in a sharp breath, his words only adding fuel to the fire between your legs. You watched him stand up from the table, inching– no stalking towards you like he had planned everything out in his head. His hand travelled to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Come on, baby," he whispered, leaning closer to you, his thumb parting your lips. "Use your words."

"Yes," you responded, voice shaky and airy.

Lando smiled, dragging your chair out further from the table. "Good girl. Now show me."

You swallowed the saliva in your mouth, spreading your legs open. A low moan fell from Lando's lips. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head while his blue eyes raked over the damp spot between your thighs, the fabric of your bikini bottoms clinging to every fold of your pussy.

"You are a bitch in heat," he clicked his tongue, smiling with amusement. He raised a brow at the timid expression on your face. "What? Nothing to say anymore? Nothing to claim your innocence?"

You said nothing, patiently waiting for his next move. You watched carefully as his fingers grasped the thin fabric of your coverup, pulling on the string tying it together so it fell off your shoulders and pooled at your sides.

Lando's blue eyes took a peak at your hardened nipples underneath your bikini top and grinned, his hand trailing up your neck to hold your jaw, forcing you to face him. "Teasing me all day and yet you're the one all worked up from it," he sighed, thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. "You gonna let me get what I want like a good girl?"

You nodded so silently, Lando paused to look at you. "Good," he relented, eyes a shade darker. If he couldn't get you to speak, he'd surely make you scream. He reached over to the jar on the table, bringing it closer to the edge of the table. "Get some more of that cream on your fingers."

You wordlessly moved, scooping the weightless sugary treat onto your two fingers, feeling Lando track your every movement. You brought them in front your face.

Lando hummed, hand wrapping around your wrist to bring those cream-filled fingers to his mouth. A quiet moan both fell out of your lips as you immediately felt the warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling around to gather the sweetness, licking you clean with a single pop.

Your throat caught when you realised he hadn't swallowed anything, his hand pushing yours down before his head tilted, leaning further to press his lips against your own. His hand crawled to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, allowing you to smell the musk of your holiday mixed with the traces of cardamom and jasmine on his skin.

Your mouth welcomed the heat of Lando, the sweet taste of the cream filling your tastebuds almost immediately, thrilling and relaxing you just the way this getaway had been.

He gasped into your mouth upon the feel of your hand on his abdomen, fingers grazing his skin, littering the surface with goosebumps. The contact elicited a contented groan from the back of his throat, vibrating against your lips. He beckoned you to stand up, hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you up and flushed against his body.

Lando could feel his stomach churn when you shivered in his grasp. Only he made you feel like that. And God, was he proud of it.

Time which seemed to stop yet spin continued it's mysterious ways when your lips finally parted. Lando's one hand fell to your own, his other grabbing the jar of cream before he was dragging you to the makeshift living room on the yacht.

Leaving the jar on the small coffee table in the middle, Lando's hands shifted quickly, untying the knot keeping your top intact and shuffling your damp bottoms off. You couldn't help but laugh at his urgency.

Lando narrowed his eyes, amused smirk playing on his lips. "You laugh now," he huffed, putting your bottoms to the side. A yelp left your mouth as he grabbed you by the waist and laid you flat on the sofa. "You'll be screaming later," he retorted, taking a step back to admire you.

Christ... he was lucky. It wasn't the fact that you were lying naked in front of him. No. It was the slight flush in your skin, the temporary slip of shyness that told him you felt vulnerable in front of him. The shyness that only confirmed what he had felt when he first saw you smile. That you were the most beautiful soul he had ever seen.

He breathed out slowly, grabbing the jar and scooping a big amount of cream onto his fingers. You gasped lightly at the cool sensation as he spread a trail of white across your thigh and repeated the same on the other.

You swallowed, feeling his hands clasp around your calfs. Your stomach churned at the cheeky glint in those blue eyes while he situated himself between your legs. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his warm tongue start collecting the sugary cream on your leg, the path ending at your upper thigh.

You watch him consume it right next to your heated core, cream tainted tongue swiping over his bottom lip as though he was saying it was tasty before moving to the other leg. You held his eyes while his tongue laid flat on your skin, inching closer and closer to where you ached the most.

Your hands instantly grasped for something – anything when Lando's mouth delved into your folds. You let out a sinful whimper, his tongue plunged into your slick cunt, darting at every crevice. He lapped at you like an animal in heat, savouring your very being. The taste of you mixed with the sweetness of the cream had him humming, sound reverberating through your core.

"Taste so fucking good, doll," Lando groaned, fingers clamping deeper into your thighs, pulling you closer. He grinned at the feel of your hand in his curls, grasping at the way his nose knocked at your clit while he prodded his tongue into your hole.

Your head fell back, hips lifting up naturally, fighting his grip around your thighs. God, it felt so good. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing uneven while your chest rose and fell.

Lando moved his tongue to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a switching pace of fast and slow while his long digits entered your pussy. Faintly, he groaned at your warm walls clenching around his fingers almost immediately. His very welcomed violation on your clit continued as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you at an increased pace.

Your hand tightened around his hair, hips bucking at the sheer pleasure rippling through you. "Fuck, Lando," you moaned out, voice barely above a whisper.

"You wanna cum, doll?" Lando huffed against your pussy, skin flushed and glittered with your arousal. He could feel your walls clench around his fingers, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, your moans turning into airy gasps – the tell tale signs of your onset orgasm.

Your stomach turned, chest heaving, vision beginning to blur, pleasure building up. But in an instant, it was ripped away, leaving your writhing and squirming in Lando's grasp.

"Lando," you cried out, taking a big gulp of air.

Lando smirked, head peeking up from your thighs. "You've spent all day teasing me," he sighed, fingers unclasping from your body. He stood up, taking off him swimming trunks. You swallowed at the sight of his cock. "You didn't think it would be that easy did you?"

You breathed out slowly, head falling back with a dramatic sigh. "Fuck me," you mumbled in slight annoyance.

"Oh I plan to."

Another yelp left your mouth when his arms circled your waist, bringing you up from the couch. His lips grazed past your ear. "Come on. Turn around for me. Let's see how pretty Ibiza is when I'm fucking your brains out."

You shuddered at his words, following his orders, hands on the naturally finding the edge of the sofa, eyes planted on the windows of your yacht, darkened enough so you could see through them with minimal privacy.

Lando was right. Ibiza was pretty. Especially when he was lining his cock with your pussy, gathering your dripping arousal on him, tip teasing your entrance while the blue waves of water glimmered in the sun. Your teeth sunk into your lip, feeling him push into your pussy, a broken grunt falling from both of your mouths.

"Oh fuck," he mumbled, his hands travelling to grip your hips. Lando groaned against your skin, beginning to snap his hips at his command. He rutted against you, pushing his aching cock against your walls that gripped him like a vice. He brought his mouth to your back, biting back the moans that were going to burst out of him by kissing your skin.

You could imagine yourself. Against the fresh summer breeze of the afternoon and the waves of Ibiza, the sounds you were making together – lewd. Your skin stuck together, shimmering with sweat, the squelch of your arousal combining; Lando's balls slapping against you as he pressed deeper into you.

"You feel that?" Lando queried, groaning, veins on his throat slowly surfacing. "You feel my cock? So deep in this perfect pussy. Made for me. Like a goddess," he moaned, one hand travelling to your lower stomach, pulling you back into him.

Your walls clenched at his words, pulsing around his cock. The denial of your first orgasm already had you on the edge.

"Planned this holiday for me, huh? Did you plan to let me fuck you like this? Like a good girl? Yeah... you are my good girl, aren't you? Always thinking the best for me," Lando grunted, increasing his pace, the sound of your skin slapping only becoming louder.

"Fuck, fuck, Lando," you breathed, knuckles turning white as you clenched around his cock. "I'm gonna..." you gasped, unable to complete your words, turning silent while the blue waves of Ibiza blurred, covered in stars as your orgasm rolled over you.

Lando's moans were weak and high-pitched, hips faltering and stuttered against you, ropes of his cum spilling into your cunt, reaching every crevice. You let out a soft, tired moan, pussy clenching around him to take every last drop you could get.

Lando sighed, pulling you into him, dragging you down into the sofa. He pressed a tired kiss against your lips. nestling his chin into your neck. He hugged you close to his body, cock still comfortably seated into you as an alleviating and soothing silence fell over you.

"You alright?" He murmured, lips grazing past your ear.

You nodded, rubbing his hands around your stomach idly. Your pursed your lips, turning your head to him. "Maybe I should eat strawberries and cream more often."

Lando rolled his eyes. "Please for the love of God... my gravestone will have 'died of strawberries and cream.'"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[birumination]

Mira x Rumi x Zoey HCs

Mira and Zoey both knew they were sapphic prior to forming HUNTR/X, but Rumi had never considered the possibility.

Which means it took them ages to actually confess to one another! Mira didn't want to mess up their friendship or make things weird, Zoey was afraid to make the others uncomfortable, and Rumi thought it was platonic to constantly admire them.

None of them made the first move. It was actually Bobby, who mistakenly booked them for a romantic resort on a rare weekend off, and when the girls came back in a relationship, he assumed it was just a really good vacation. To this day, he doesn't know about the heart-shaped bed or rose petals, and the girls still think he set them up on purpose.

On that note, it takes like six months for Bobby to clock that they're all together, and even then, only because he walked in on them.

They usually sleep in a spoon-train, but they rotate the positions regularly. Mira's needs to hold them both so she knows they're not leaving? Big spoon! Rumi needs to feel like she can easily jump out of bed and fight? Little spoon! Zoey needs to be touching as much as possible so she feels wanted? Middle spoon! If they're exhausted enough, they just collapse into bed in a tangle of limbs, though.

Rumi and Zoey going with Mira to get a tattoo. Much to consider.

Zoey's not just a lyricist, she's a poet. She's super effusive with her words and constantly finds new ways to express how much she loves them, and it still never feels like enough.

Rumi plans all of their dates, mostly because she plans them all so far in advance that Mira and Zoey don't get the chance. They do surprise her from time to time but it takes a lot of effort. And sometimes Bobby's help.

Mira is their scary dog privilege. It's not that Rumi and Zoey can't defend themselves, because they *definitely* can, but her death stare has been known to head off creeps before they ever get the chance to start in.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Hung The Stars - Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Summary: 680ish words. The third Abbot child is earthside. Companion piece to Off-Duty.

Warnings: pregnancy and birth. References to prior delivery complications (kind of). Family fluff!!!

a/n: The Abbot family, back by popular demand. Divider credit 💕

Cassiopeia’s birth was uneventful.

Well. As uneventful as a birth could be.

Save for the fact that you threatened to give Jack a vasectomy yourself, it was just peachy.

In all honesty, compared to the twins’ birth, it was a walk through the park. On shards of glass.

This time around, you made sure to tell your husband when your contractions started. With Jacob and Ellie, you severely underestimated how quickly you would advance to 10 centimeters dilation and 100% effacement. Almost four years ago, at 34 weeks pregnant, you had convinced yourself that they were just Braxton Hicks contractions. It was way too early for the twins to come, you thought.

Wrong.

Robby ended up delivering your babies in PTMC’s ambulance bay. Which, believe it or not, was not part of your birth plan. They stayed in the NICU for a couple of weeks to gain weight and monitor lung development, but were otherwise healthy babies. Jack had somehow pulled some strings with administration for the two of you to have a reserved on-call room on the same floor as the NICU for the duration of Ellie and Jacob’s stay. You spent as much time as possible with your babies, except for when Dana practically forced you and your husband to go home for some actual rest while she promised to stay with the babies.

Cassiopeia chose to hang around for a bit longer. At 40 weeks and 5 days, you demanded an induction.

“Jack Abbot, I swear to all that is Holy, I’m gonna neuter you myself.” You yelled during a particularly harsh contraction. Jack had to muster up his entire career of military training and medical poker face to keep from laughing. If he laughed right now, he was positive he’d be six feet under by the end of shift change.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you,” he pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead and was met with a glare. He knew you didn’t mean any of the aggression, at least not entirely. He would probably also be hostile if he was pushing a watermelon-sized being out of a lemon-size hole.

Your daughter came out kicking and screaming, fierce as all get-out.

Jack’s warm, salty tears mixed with yours as he pressed his forehead against yours, cradling his girls once your daughter was placed on your chest.

“I love you both so much.”

Ellie was so excited to meet her younger sister.

“I can paint her nails too!” She skipped around the delivery room.

“Eventually, yes baby,” You promised as you hugged your first born. Jack cradled the baby against his bare chest. He looked at her like she hung the stars, so much love and adoration in his glassy eyes.

Jacob was not as pleased. You and your husband had to have the difficult Having a new baby doesn’t mean we love you any less conversation. Reasoning with the toddler was not very successful.

“Do you want to help decorate her nursery?” Jack bargained. Jacob pondered the offer before his tiny little face scrunched with determination.

“Only if there can be dinosaurs!”

“Yeah, buddy. We can get some dinosaurs in the nursery,” Jack chuckled and you agreed, eyes fluttering shut as you finally drifted off to sleep.

Jack Abbot was protective of his family. If you said you didn’t want visitors for the first 24 hours, he would set up a blockade outside the door to keep anyone from entering. 

Robby, Heather, and Dana were respectful of your wishes. Baby Cassie was born at 14:06 on a Tuesday. The following Wednesday, at 14:07, a knock sounded at the door.

In rolled the Pitt staff with more flowers and balloons than the room could accommodate.

Most importantly, Robby had your favorite order from McDonald’s grasped in his hand. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Cassie had just finished feeding and was down for a nap. Nobody dared to disturb the infant, but they all cooed at the swaddled baby in her bassinet.

One thing was for certain—the Abbot children would always know love.

a/n: I'm so glad ppl love the Abbot family as much as I do :) Please let me know what you think! Reblogs & comments keep me motivated <3

master list | post notifications @thesewordsxupdates

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals Pt. 4

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: First, I read an article on burns to try and make this as accurate as possible, (article here by the NIH) but it’s still not terribly accurate. So, please, I tried lol. Secondly, I’m still screaming at the amount of love you guys have shown this series. Truly, I appreciate it more than y’all know. Thirdly, enter in a little extra dash of drama by Gloria (who redeemed herself in ep.12 but we ain’t there yet) and ya girl is just having a rough-ass day. Fourthly, yeah…she’s a thick chapter. Hopefully, it's still good because I’ve edited it as much as I can. As always, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for the support and for being here. Much Love, Jenn

Warnings: Mentions of death, language

Words: 10k +

Previous I Next

Whitaker proved to be an adept student. He followed directions well and answered whatever questions you threw his way about proper wound care at home and possible infection risks around the burned areas. When you’d finished with the first patient, you ensured he knew to return to the emergency room immediately if they experienced any new or persistent discomfort, like pain or tenderness in the area, increased warmth, discoloration, or advanced swelling. 

“If the infection is invasive and takes hold of the wound, what is the main course of treatment, Dr. Whitaker?”

“We would contact surgery.”

“Correct. Why?” 

“The need for surgery would be based on the high concentration of the bacteria levels found present in the wound.”

“We’d check for signs of possible sepsis and a full check-up to narrow down if it's gram-negative or positive bacteria, which tells us further about our treatment plan. What is the chief cause of burn wound infections?”

“Staphylococcus Aureus - MRSA.”

“How would we verify the patient had MRSA or any other type of possible bacterial infection?” 

“By taking a sample from the area for testing -“

“You guys aren’t about to cut me up or anything, are you?”  

The sudden input from the patient caused a nervous tick from Whitaker. It halted his hands from finishing the last few loops around with the gauze. The patients' eyes darted nervously from you to Whitaker and back again. You gave your best reassuring smile while making sure the dressing was secured on his chest and shoulder.

“Well, Kyle, the faster we get you out of here, you take the antibiotics I prescribe you, and make sure you keep your burns dressed and away from exposure to possible germs, then no. We won’t be ‘cutting you up’ today.”

“Okay. Cool. Because that sounds really uncool.”

Dilaudid truly did wonders for conversations. You’d have to make sure the discharge papers were clear on his care and warning signs to look out for. Plus, add extra emphasis on trying to make sure not to share any items in the frat house bathroom. 

In truth, it wasn’t him, but his fellow frat boy neighbor in four that had you worried. So far, he showed no obvious signs of infection, but once the adrenaline of the moment wore off he noticeably seemed to slip into shock at having half his face, eyelashes, and eyebrow singed off. Not enough shock, however, to keep from asking if he’d make a handsome Harvey Dent for Halloween. 

The burns to his neck and chest indicate to you he was closer to the fire pit than his buddy Whitaker currently patched up. You’d ordered blood work, x-rays, and a culture swab on two-face and his friend just to rule out any surprises. 

You did your full assessment, asked questions, and directed Whitaker the best you could. You wanted to be the good mentor like Adamson and Singh had been for you. A good mentor like Robby was too. You would never admit it out loud but a small piece of you wanted Robby to see how capable you were. A silent bid to prove he could trust you with his interns and medical students. Between Robby, Abbot, and the previous attendings you knew you could teach. 

It wasn’t a hidden thing that you’d both meet here during your residency. Yes, it was Adamson’s circus, but Robby thrived under Adamson’s direction and the insanity the Pitt offered. He was funny, charismatic, incredibly smart, and showed a level of empathy that bordered on worrisome at times. A tidal wave of grief encapsulated him and carried him under if he wasn’t careful. Robby was exactly the physician any patient should want taking care of them when they arrived in the ED. 

And hell, you weren’t blind. Anyone with eyes could see that Robby was handsome. Painstakingly, stupidly, egregiously, fucking handsome. It was fucking criminal. 

Robby taught you so much in the time you’d spent here and you knew he probably still could but that would mean being around him. The two of you standing closer than you’d been in years was proving to be a dangerous thing. He’d fallen back into the habit of stealing touches and you’d fallen back into the habit of shamelessly teasing him with things he’d usually make you pay for later trapped between his body and whatever surface in your house.

It was a dangerous game neither of you realized you were playing, and both of you were losing fast. Instead of having your focus one hundred percent on the patients and being back in the ED for the first time in years, your focus repeatedly returned where it shouldn’t. At first, you could lie to yourself and say you were simply scanning the hallways and nursing stations to make sure you didn’t see him. Of course, that’s what you wanted to believe; to coast through this shift without any additional emotional trauma following you home. 

It was fucking impossible.

You could continue to lie to yourself all you wanted, but the truth was blatantly clear. Your eyes didn’t comb over the hallways and desks in hopes of not finding him. You didn’t quickly peer into rooms in anticipation that he wouldn’t be in one. You wanted to see him just as much as you denied that you didn’t. 

The day you left, you made sure to do it while Robby was working because you knew, that if he’d been home and asked you to stay, you would’ve. And if he didn’t fight for you - never uttered a singular word of pleading to keep you from leaving, you weren’t sure you could survive it. 

So now you found yourself hopelessly looking for him in all the places you swore you’d never go again. You may have chosen to leave, but it never meant you stopped loving him. The fact you were still in love with him made seeing the lost look in his eyes sting harder. You watched as he spoke to the parents of the kid who overdosed with no possible hope of waking up again, and you wanted to go to him. It was the shattering look of grief that made you forget how to move. Robby knew what was coming better than anyone else did. 

How many times was Robby the one in charge of giving the heartbreaking news that loved ones weren’t coming home? Shouldering the burden of listening to the breakdown of their world and being the pillar of strength and comfort while families struggled to rearrange? 

You hadn’t realized the black hole of anxiety was leading you down a rabbit hole until the sound of Whitaker calling out, “Dr. Fullerton,” at your side left you practically jumping out of your skin. 

Shit. How long had you been zoned out? Hopefully, you hadn’t said anything weird. Or incriminating.

“Sorry,” he swiftly followed up. “I was trying to ask where we were off to next, but, uh, you seemed a little…preoccupied.”

“Oh, yeah, no sorry. You can go back to the red zone. I’m just going to help McKay up in triage.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, not at all. You’ll have more of a chance to learn with Langdon and Collins.” What you actually meant was to see more if that was what he was into. “Also, maybe check on your last patient I pulled you away from earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You watched him take your advice and, in real time, get ready to dispute it. “Why am I checking back in with Mr. Milton?”

What should you tell him? In the Pitt, it was easy to be thrown from one patient to the next - forgetting their faces and names as the minutes blurred into hours. Easy to forget they were waiting on test results that needed to be read by you and needed a treatment plan discussed and planned by you. Major issues could present as something small, something easily missable until further testing exposed the truth of the situation. If you went just the smallest amount of time without checking the results, without popping your head in for a visual, well, it wasn’t hard to imagine how sometimes those major issues finally presented themselves and everything got much, much worse. 

“Look, Whitaker. As much as the powers constantly stress about getting people in and out quickly like this is a drive-thru, we have an obligation to each patient to give them the best care we can. It means staying on top of orders and checking in regularly. Trust me, Whitaker, things can change quickly down here.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You bet. See you around, Whitaker.”

He gave you an awkward wave and didn’t move right away. It wasn’t until you turned away from him that you heard him shuffle on his feet. A part of you was curious if you glanced behind you he’d still be standing there, deciding where to go.   

All that mattered to you was that you currently needed a new patient. It didn’t matter what the chief complaint was. Ideally, for the all-seeing eye of admin, quick and easy ones would look better. At this rate, you were positive your Press Ganey score was dipping. You were seeing patients at the speed of an R3; two patients per hour and they were after fast and loose results. But you wanted something with the capability to keep you occupied for hours. Preferably something that would require so much of your attention it would force you out of your head. 

Yeah, that would be good. It was too damn early still to be spiraling into a midlife crisis just because you had to work with your ex. An ex, you realized, who was wearing the damn navy blue hoodie you’d bought him on his last fishing trip to Canonsburg. 

No. No. Nope. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him or stupid hoodies or the gold chain of his necklace that used to drag over your collarbone. How your fingers curled around the thin chain, using it like a lead, to bring him down on top of you on the couch. Absolutely not - you were at work and he was your ex. He was your ex and you shouldn’t fucking care how you could still tell after all these months he was sleeping like shit. 

You were almost back to Dana’s station, the monitor looming overhead like a beacon to salvation when you noticed Whitaker walking in tandem beside you. You cocked a brow in question that Whitaker rushed to answer. 

“The board is this way, so…”

Right. You knew that. 

“I was trying to talk to you but I think you were in deep thought or something. Again.”

Or something. God. That was twice. Twice your head was everywhere else but where it needed to be, which was at work. You should’ve fought harder when Gloria came to reassign you, but none of this should’ve mattered. 

You were a damn good doctor. You’d trained under the best, learned from the best, and kept progressively learning and didn’t stop. You spent years of your life on this because helping people was your passion. It shouldn’t matter where you were placed if you were down here to help for days, months, or years. 

Yet, in the matter of an hour, your mind waded into memories that were better off left for dead with your eyes searching for someone you shouldn’t. 

You didn’t know how to answer him. “Sorry, I should remember where everything is but find myself stuck daydreaming about the past and looking for signs where I shouldn’t and sexually fantasizing about your attending”, didn’t seem appropriate to tell a med student. So, you ended with a weak, “Sorry about that,” which passed for understanding. It made you feel like an ass, but you didn’t trust yourself to speak. 

You came to a stop just a few feet from Dana’s desk. Her back turned to you as she went through folders preparing patient's charts for transfer upstairs. Her eyes shifted up at the board and over to a newer resident you hadn’t met yet. 

Her gaze was fixed on the monitor; eyes scanning rapidly down the chart as if there was a code that needed cracking. You knew that look. It was a shared one you’d no doubt mirrored only an hour ago. 

“What do you need, Fullerton?”

Your head swiveled back to Dana and found her now facing you, her glasses removed, and waiting for your answer. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Are you kidding?” The question fell out of her in a chuckle. “You’re the only one I know who goes around taping on every damn surface when they’re thinking. You act like my five-year-old grandson, just less noisy. Barely.”

“That’s offensive,” you pointed out. 

“For who? You or my grandson.”

You felt the first crack in your defenses tug at the corners of your mouth. If you weren’t careful, Dana’s whip-smart comments were going to make you fold back into a routine you hadn’t been a part of in a while. It wasn’t just you who was slipping at this point, and you clocked the moment Dana began to realize it too. 

She was supposed to be upset with you - grumpy, mean remarks only. You were supposed to take them and dish them back so you could comfortably stay in your bubbles of denial and anger. The denial of what, exactly, was achingly easy to see. 

You both missed each other. More than either of you were willing to admit. 

Your reply sat cocked and loaded on your tongue when you remembered what transpired half an hour before. As much as you missed one another, you had to be careful with what you shared around her. It was obvious, whatever the ‘It’ may be, Robby would magically seem to find out. 

“Any quick ones up here? It’s only 8:30, and Robby’s already on my case for being too slow. I can usually at least make it to lunch before he starts hounding me.” 

Your attention swiveled back towards the resident. Her gaze fixed on the board before glancing between Dana and you. Hopefully, her question wasn’t meant for you to answer. You weren’t very good at picking off the board either. 

“Cut him a little slack today, ok? It’s the anniversary of Dr. Adamson’s death.”

Of course, Dana would cover for him. Intercept all incoming rapports of Robby being prickly and sometimes downright mean to bury them under the rug of understanding. 

Yes, it was the anniversary of Adamson’s death. It always would be. Grief wasn’t easy. It was messy and unrelenting in the moments it chose for sights, smells, and touch to materialize memories that recalled moments you wouldn’t get the chance to share with them again. A constant reminder of all that we lost. Time didn’t seal up that cavern their loss created; it just became more manageable over time. 

Robby never coped. Never allowed himself to grieve, heal, and thrive in the good memories he did have. The doubts and guilt haunted him every day in every step, every decision, he made. He housed it inside him like a ghoul in a cemetery feasting on the remains of who he was before Adamson’s death - before the pandemic. 

“That’s sad. But it’s still no reason to take it out on me. I’m just saying.”

You liked her. She got it. You wanted to properly introduce yourself. By the look on Dana’s face, you need to do it quickly before she breaks out into a lecture. Luck wasn’t on your side because Whitaker beat you to the punch. 

You didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation but you also didn’t want to go back to having a conversation with Dana, either. It left you the only option of staring back up at the beloved board. You’d just decided on 7 North when Dr. Collins walked by, her hands digging in the glovebox on the wall to retrieve a pair. Her eyes were on Whitaker and yours were on her. 

It wasn’t a secret that Robby and Heather had dated. Well, maybe to those in the Pitt, and not including Perlah or Princess because they suspiciously seemed to be psychic. Or just really loved to gossip. No, you’d learned about them when a friend spotted Robby and Heather out on a date. You’d only assumed it was a date because she repeatedly kept using the word cozy. 

And why should you have cared? It’d been almost a year since you’d left. You chose to leave and that meant making him free to date and find new love or whatever. You didn’t have a right to lay claim to him just because he’d been yours. And Heather? She was gorgeous. She was fucking brilliant, with a beautiful smile, and it suddenly made you feel uncharacteristically subconscious. 

Whether it’d been a date or they just seemed cozy (it was a damn date) you shouldn’t have felt jealous. You were fine. It was perfectly fine and healthy for people to seek out relationships and companionship. It was normal and you were fine. You weren’t any saint either. You’d dated someone briefly and, if you were honest with yourself, you could’ve stayed in that relationship. It was nice and easy. Simple. But you didn’t love him and you weren’t sure if you ever could. 

The problem of loving Robby - still being in love with Robby - was that he stood witness to your most intimate memories of love. There were stories woven into your bones that bore witness to the man he was and how he loved you. They were told in joy and tragedy, laughter and sadness. When Nathan kissed you, the earth kept spinning. He didn’t taste of bourbon or smell of leather and sandalwood. He didn’t spend time in the backyard sanding down tables or staining decks. He didn’t wear glasses that somehow slid minute by minute inch down his nose until he subconsciously tilted his head back to see.

In the end, you left because of one glaring fact: Nathan would never be - could never be - Robby.  

Dr. Collins told Whitaker to come with her for a teaching experience - an unconscious unhoused man was being brought in. Whitaker quickly moved to follow her lead in grabbing a pair of gloves just in time for the paramedics to wheel in the gurney. Said man was very much unconscious and appeared very much unhoused. 

Your time playing the gawking bystander had come to an end and you needed to get to 7 North. You pushed away from the counter when you were stopped by the resident from earlier barreling into your line of sight. 

“Dr. Fullerton? I’m Dr. Samira Mohan - R3. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Mohan stuck out her hand and you accepted it warmly. Besides the obvious annoyance from Robby hounding her existence, it seemed Dr. Mohan was friendly. She held a kind air about her that reminded you of Robby - only now that kindness held an edge of grumpiness because his empathy was playing an overwhelming game. By the sleepless bags under his eyes, you could tell he was losing. 

You wanted to point the probability of this out to her, maybe offer her a consultation for Robby’s apparent hard-ass demeanor, but quickly shoved it off. 

“It’s nice to meet you, as well, Dr. Mohan.”

“Would it be okay if I could confer with you later?” Dr. Mohan’s eyes shifted to where Dana stood only inches away. “In private?”

You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or wanting to run for the hills. Dana’s eyes practically bore into the back of your head, waiting to hear your answer. You knew no matter what you chose to say this was getting back to Robby. 

Fuck it. 

“Of course, Dr. Mohan. I’ll come and find you after my next patient.”

“Thank you. I look forward to speaking with you.” 

She cut a cautious glance over her shoulder and turned on her heel towards the south hallway. It must have been nice to make an easy exit. It was definitely something you were down to try but Dana stood closer to the counter, her glasses down the bridge of her nose, and accused you with a look of being a troublemaker. Your only defense was a shrug. 

“What?”

“What the hell was that about?”

Your brows converged together as you shrugged again. 

“How am I supposed to know, Dana? I haven’t even talked to her yet.” 

“Talked to who about what?”

Fucking kill me. 

What was with today? Were you unknowingly walking around with a ‘Kick Me,’ sign written by life? You’d gone over two years without ever running into Robby and within an hour in a half, you couldn’t seem to avoid him. 

And why was he standing so fucking close again? 

You didn’t need to glance over to your left to know he was close. The heat of his body, the nudge of his elbow against your arm informed you at breakneck speed you were close. Too fucking close, Michael. 

“Mohan seems to want to speak with Fullerton. In private.”

“You couldn’t just wait for me to answer, Dana?”

The words rose up your throat like bile, acidic with its irritation. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t need this shit. You didn’t know what Dr. Mohan wanted but the cryptic way she asked wasn’t doing you any favors. It was at this moment you finally chose to look in Robby’s direction. He was leaning into his elbow that rested on the counter. Even with his body slightly slouched the height difference was substantial causing you to crane to look up at him. 

The problem with this? He was close enough that your temporal lobe was overloaded with thousands of memories of his thumb gliding across your lips. Large hands taking hold of your neck and tilting you back at just the right angle for his lips to claim yours. 

When you were no longer held hostage to the sensory manipulation your brain concocted, you prayed to whoever was listening that you didn’t look as lovestruck as you felt. By the dark glint in Robby’s eyes, you were doing a piss poor job at being Switzerland. 

“What? So you can conveniently disappear by the end of the shift without any context or explanation? No, thanks. Been there. Done that. Not a fan of the outcome.”

“This bipolar verbal assault is getting real tiring, Dana,” you huffed. 

“Alright. Alright, enough!” Robby cut in. “I expect this behavior from patients, not my staff. Now, Dr. Fullerton, what did Dr. Mohan want to discuss with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed, “I have no fucking clue, okay? She just asked if she could speak in private and seeing as how she did ask for it to be private, I don’t see why you need to know.” 

“Ugh,” a dry huff of what might have passed for a laugh - a cough maybe? - exited his lips. His brow was drawn tight while he looked at you. No doubt wondering where you’d gained the audacity. “Because this is my emergency department. I’m in charge of the entire thing and I think I need to be aware of what is going on with my staff.” 

“Well, maybe if you stopped acting like an ass to said staff they wouldn’t be seeking outside counsel.”

A mirthless laugh exploded from between his lips. The sound carried part of the disbelief his eyes showed while he took you in. He was no longer leaning against the counter but had his arms crossed against his chest. You weren’t sure if he was looking at you like he wanted to throttle you or found you unbelievable. Neither option would make you a winner if you guessed right.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “Are you a fucking counselor all of a sudden?”

“And what if I was? I would ask if you’d require my services, but we both know you’re allergic to seeking help.” 

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. You were bringing up personal shit - inviting a possible fucking mess to happen - and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You kept poking the proverbial bear and damn it, you weren’t exactly sure you felt bad about doing it. Were you so desperate for a reaction from him - after all this time? What the hell was it going to prove? 

You watched the storm of emotions roll in. The deep set of his forehead and the dark clouds that zapped all residual warmth from his eyes. You weren’t sure if Robby was even aware he’d taken a step towards you, jaw flexing, and body slowly seeping into whatever free space you had left. 

Whatever words he would’ve said died in the aftermath of hearing shouts a few rooms down. It jarred you both out of your staring contest and sent him into action. One minute he was standing in front of you, the next, he was running to see what the commotion was. 

The second Robby was removed from your space, you took a deep breath in. Why did it feel like you were in a constant state of fight or flight? Your answer came in a set of blue eyes who homed in on you the moment Robby was gone. 

“When’s your next smoke break?” 

“Who says I still smoke?” 

“Dana, be serious. The day you quit smoking is the day hell freezes over. So - when?”

She regarded you for a moment. The scale in her mind no doubt weighed if this was going to be worth her time or possibly ruining her nicotine break. 

“I usually take it around 9:30. Why? You suddenly have the urge to open up?”

“Do you want to talk or not?.”

She could bitch, make jokes, and moan and groan all she wanted. You knew offering up a chance to talk would be all Dana would need to agree. Was it something you honestly wanted to do? Not really. Were you willing to do it so that at least you had one less person hounding you the rest of your shift? 

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Ah, what the hell. I’ll see you on break kid.” 

A sigh of relief eased through you and you prayed Dana hadn’t noticed. You didn’t think she’d agree but, now that she had, you had a tiny ounce of hope this day wasn’t going to be so much of a shit show. 

“What was all that screaming about?”

You knew the question wasn’t directed at you. Robby must have made his return and the soft laughter wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“We seem to have involuntarily just admitted rats,” he replied. 

“You’re kidding?” Dana scoffed. 

“If only I was. Whitaker was saying it was about three or four of them.” 

“And on that note,” you drummed your hands on the counter, “I am going to 7 North.” 

It wasn’t until you went to take a step forward you noticed the weight on your left foot. A weight that felt like something was sitting directly on it. You looked down just in time to watch a rat - a damn rat - scurry off your foot to run around the edge of the nursing station. 

What you did next wasn’t your proudest moment. You even used to pride yourself on being rational when it came to rodents. The shout that clawed its way from the depths of your stomach proved you wrong at lightning speed. 

You felt your body jump backward and collide with Robby. His hands were on your hips to steady you. You were bouncing back and forth on your heels, eyes scanning the area to make sure no further surprises snuck up on you. Your arms were bunched up at your sides and you were trying to talk yourself down from sweeping the remaining area with your leg. Just for good measure.

It was the feeling of his hands on your waist, the soft sound of his chuckle touching your hair that brought you careening back down to earth. Robby was close. Not like last time when your arms touched - closer than when he followed behind you into Allan's room. Even through your scrubs, you could feel the scorching heat of his palms spreading like wildfire through the fabric that sent your heart racing. 

He should’ve let go by now. The threat of you possibly knocking him over or you both tripping and falling was over. He could let go. He could just let go, but Robby’s hands were holding you firmly in place with neither of you willing to move. You refused to look behind you - afraid of what he might see if you did.

You were afraid of what you might see if you dared to look too. 

Slowly, you took a step forward, disengaging his hands from you. The sensation of loss was instant and you almost stepped back into him. Your body and mind were at war between desire and being rational. Fuck being rational. There was nothing rational about the way your heart brutalized your ribs. The need to ask stupid fucking questions that no longer mattered. The consuming way your body craved for him to wrap his large hand around your throat, whispering words of filth into your ear. 

You had to get away before you made a mistake. 

“Sorry about that. I’m going to just, ugh, go do my rounds now.”

You didn’t turn around while you softly spoke. You may have been delusional at times, but you weren’t crazy. If you looked back and Robby’s eyes gave away any hint of emotion - anything that sparked that dying ember of hope inside you - you would crumble. 

You should’ve fought harder to stay upstairs in family medicine or threatened Gloria with firing you. You were safer there. Now, you were rushing off to remember what patient room you were going to with Robby’s cologne clinging to your skin. 

You were a pain in the ass. But you were his pain in the ass. 

Used to be, his mind reminded him. 

Could still be, came his stupid heart's reply. 

Robby used to love it when you challenged him; called him out on his bullshit. You weren’t afraid to stand in the current of his disapproval or to openly have a debate, especially when you could see he was missing something. You challenged each other to be open-minded to change, because it happened so fast, and to accept that being wrong wasn’t failure but a moment to grow and learn. 

When you both stopped being open with one another, and being honest with yourselves, was when the challenging energy took a turn. Everything felt like a confrontation. Even in moments when the constructive criticism came from colleagues - from you - it felt like an attack he had to defend against. 

Robby saw it in you too. The small hints of walls slowly being built to keep the inquiries at bay. When your responses become short and brief or not at all. 

Now, before nine o’clock, you were in the Pitt not only wreaking havoc on his already fragile mental state but accusing him of…what? When you’d thrown the counselor's comment at him, Robby wanted to rage. How many times was it the main part of your arguments near the end of your relationship that he needed to talk to somebody? Anybody. How many times did he deny it? 

You’d thrown it in from the sidelines and it jarred him so much, Robby felt disoriented. For the briefest moment, Robby forgot that you were no longer together. His mind reflexively thought you were arguing about the same old tired thing. He’d taken a step toward you and wanted to ask, “And what about you?” 

You who wasn’t as honest and open with yourself just like him. There were things left unsaid between the two of you - the things that eventually buried the hatchet too far in to safely remove. 

What about all the times he’d found you in the bathroom sitting against the tub crying in the middle of the night? Your panic attacks and OCD tendencies that started after…

Every time Robby reached out to be there for you, your response was always the same. 

“It’s nothing, Michael.”  “I’m fine.”  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sure, Robby wasn’t open and was guarded in his own right but neither were you. Where he used to read the transcript of your emotions so delicately on your face, you’d closed yourself off to him and he no longer knew how to get in. 

An angry shout from down the South hallway thankfully tore his attention back to reality. His feet were already moving him robotically forward where he could see Olson entering Central 15. 

“Whoa, whoa what is going on?”

Robby directed the question specifically to one of his many team members in the room. Thankfully, Kiara started to explain or, more appropriately attempted to explain but he couldn’t fucking think through all the damn shouting. 

“Ok, ok, okay ENOUGH!” Robby couldn’t believe he was already raising his voice. Yelling at grown-ass adults like they were children. “This is a hospital. This isn’t ‘ The Jerry Springer Show’.” Although it was really, really starting to fucking feel like it with the morning he was having. “Ma’am, nobody’s trying to take your child. So why don’t you stay here with him while your husband talks to our social worker outside and straightens all this out?”

“Well, I don’t want him speaking for me and my son.”

It was clear by the wavering of her voice, that this was a tough spot for the mom to be in. Robby could sympathize but what he couldn’t sympathize with was starting a miniature war zone in one of his rooms. 

“Well, it is either you or him. Your son is not leaving, but you can be escorted out and even arrested if you refuse to cooperate. Nobody wants that. So you tell us. What do you want to do?”

Robby knew the answer before she replied. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this mother didn’t fiercely love her son. Whatever situation the husband did to get them in this position was unfortunate, but the only option they had now was to press forward. 

“I’m staying with my son.”

“Ok, great. You do that. Are we all on the same page here?”

The last question he sent out was rhetorical. A feeler to see if anyone else was confused about what was about to happen and if further clarification was needed. God, Robby sincerely hoped it’d all been made crystal clear what the only two real options were; the only choice being to cooperate. 

“You okay?”

Robby could see Langdon was shaken up. It could be a lot dealing with a combative patient - harder when it was a parent just trying to make the right choices for their child. You were always the best at coming in and soothing cases like this one. Somehow able to give relief and comfort while giving the most gut-wrenching news of a parent's life while calmly explaining the next steps. You were able to keep people from feeling lost in the bad news and prepare them for the onslaught of change. 

Robby waited until Langdon confirmed he and Dr. King were good before he walked out of the room. Regarding parents with kids, Robby almost forgot Teresa asked to speak with him about David. 

Central 12 was just a few steps away from Langdon’s patient. It was close to being comfortable but too close to give Robby time to think. He felt out of his element here because he was running out of options. He wanted to help Teresa, because, while she did this to help her son, she knowingly put her own life at risk to get him the help he needed. 

But isn’t that what parents did?  

At times, they blindly waded into the fire if it meant that their child would be safe. 

All Robby could do was watch and listen while he told her about how he left. While he followed up her questions with his own and did his best to try and ward off the sick feeling burying itself inside his gut. 

“Do you think David would hurt anyone?”

Even allowing the question to come out of his mouth made a rush of nausea swell back behind his tongue. He didn’t want to ask it. Nobody wants to ask any parent if they think their child - a fucking child - could be capable of harming another human being. 

Robby carried his thoughts on the reasons why young men are more prone to violence these days. With idiotic podcast hosts spewing their hatred for women who were goal-oriented and not focused on babying them like their mothers. Boys who were told to bottle up their emotions: “Don’t share your feelings. Don’t get caught crying,” unless you want to be told that you were weak. There was so much bullshit in the world for kids to have to contend with these days that Robby didn’t find it surprising a lot of them were overloaded - overwhelmed by a constant flurry from the world to be someone different than who they are. 

Robby had plenty of talks with Jake about these things. He found it easy to lean into him with the both of them connecting during shared trips and quiet nights at the house. Robby made sure his stepson knew that Robby would always be a safe place for him to land. When the world got too crazy and if he couldn’t tell his mom Janey, Robby would be there. 

Because that’s what parents do - willingly walk through fire if it meant their kid would be okay.

“The nasal swab came back negative for COVID, RSV, and Flu - which is a good thing.” 

“Then what’s wrong? What about her eyes?”

The her in question was a three-year-old named Jasmine who was vocally letting you both know that she was not in a good mood, which was very fair. Nobody liked being sick. The only issue with her actively voicing her bad mood was that any high octave screams were soon followed up by a violent cough. 

The moment you stepped inside the room you’d been worried about RSV, especially because of her age. Lungs sounded clear with slight wheezing indicated in the upper left lobe. Thankfully, all major possible viruses came back negative. The unfortunate thing was that this specific viral infection just meant mom was going to have to ride it out.

“It’s still a viral infection. The conjunctivitis, since it started coming from both eyes this morning, it’s from the infection and sinus blockage. The whites of her eyes aren’t red in any way. The best thing to do is apply a compress every few hours on the eyes to help with drainage, saline drops, or spray on the nose to help clear up the congestion and suction as often as you can. Over-the-counter cough medicine is fine unless you need a prescription?”

“No, no, it’s okay. We have some at home. So, she’s okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. I just recommend having her sleep elevated to help with drainage and if you have a humidifier, use it. Follow up with her pediatrician in two to three days or come back to the ER if any new or persistent symptoms occur.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

“You’re so welcome. Make sure to wait for a nurse before leaving. I hope you feel better, Jasmine.”

 You gave them both a wave before exiting out of the quiet of the room and back into the noise. The nurse assigned to the room came over and held out a tablet and pen for you to take. Quickly, you scribbled a signature down, because doctors were notoriously known for sketchy penmanship, and began to walk towards a nursing station. 

Technically, you did have a second option you could take before throwing yourself into the next patient room. Dr. Mohan asked to speak with you. She didn’t necessarily give a time or a preference. It was more focused on secrecy, which you found a little odd. This was Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center - it was a rare thing to have a private conversation here. You were curious to find out what it was Mohan wanted, a bigger part of you wasn’t ready for the headache of Robby undoubtedly finding out later. The worst option: is if you were the one who had to tell him to be the advocate for his resident.

The scent of his cologne still held tight to the fabric of your scrubs. Slowly, it was beginning to fade but if you leaned in close enough to your right shoulder you could almost get a hint of -

“Dr. Fullerton.”

You were a millisecond away from calling out, “I wasn’t doing anything!”. Was it too early in the shift to consider a name change?

Glancing over your shoulder, you find Gloria making her way towards you. Each step in your direction sent your fight or flight raging back into gear because fuck no. Between Gloria and Robby, the two of them were about to have you so damn stressed out there was a high chance for premature balding to occur. 

“Oh no. I’ve had enough surprises from you today.”

“I just wanted to have a chat - “

“And definitely enough of those,” you shot back. 

You weren’t exactly sure why you kept moving. If previous experiences told you anything, it was that she would follow you until you stopped on your own or she got you into a corner. At least stopping to face her was a choice compared to being cornered with no way out. 

Resigning to your fate, you took in a big meditative breath through your nose and turned around. 

“What can I help you with, Gloria?”

Your voice was so monotone you sounded like a robot. 

“I’m glad you’ve decided to stop running and actually talk to me like an adult.”

“I’m sorry, Gloria. You brought me down here to assist in decreasing triage wait times and that is what I am doing. Stopping to have a chat with you will reflect poorly on my scores.”

“Cute,” She bit back. The smile on her face was too harsh to be genuine. “Well, it’s funny you mention scores. I’ve been keeping an eye on the numbers and the system is showing barely any signs of process or improvement. Can you explain why that is?”

The simplest answer you could’ve given her came with one name, one word, and one human being. Robby. Robby was your fucking problem; the bane of your existence. 

Gloria shoved you down here not knowing all the variables that could hinder productivity. There were moments of clarity where your brilliance shined through and in a matter of seconds it evaporated again. Realistically, it was your fault. Your inability to control your stupid fucking emotions - you didn’t need to react every time you saw him. 

How could you not react when Robby did exactly the same? 

You weren’t stupid. You’d spent years, months, days, and hours with him. Every minute is accounted for in conversations and touch. It wasn’t insanity (although the jury was still out on that one) that made you believe - to fucking notice - Robby was affected too. 

But no way in hell were you divulging any of your innermost thought demons to Gloria. 

“Look around, Gloria,” you said, arms opening up to motion around the Central rooms. “There are no beds available. You ask for solid care, for good patient satisfaction scores and that requires multiple factors. To be a good doctor you have to listen to the patient's chief complaint that they’ve been waiting almost eight hours to tell you.”

“I am well aware of the current wait times in triage, Dr. Fullerton.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. Problem solved then because once we assess them and decide they need monitoring and tests to ascertain the issue, it’s only another three to six-hour wait. Maybe longer if it’s life-threatening. Not to mention if any trauma patients come rolling through the red zone adding another twenty-five to fifty minutes on their time.”

“I don’t see what any of this has to do with not having any beds. Not every situation in triage necessarily requires a bed to be seen.”

“Gloria, your precious Press Ganey scores are going to stay low if a patient doesn’t get back to a room. You can make beds available by sending people upstairs or how about removing the deceased guy in nineteen who’s been posted here since before I arrived?” 

“Robby is in charge of contacting the coroner's office about picking up the deceased.”

“And yet, the body is still here,” you pondered. “I know Robby, Gloria. He wouldn’t knowingly leave someone’s loved one here if it didn’t mean the coroner is backed up, which means our morgue must house him until then. And why are you complaining to me like I'm attending here? Robby is the attending - “

“I’m well aware of that - “

“You keep saying you’re well aware, Gloria but the fact is it feels like you’re not. It’s easy to come down here making demands but the reality is without the proper staffing and moving boarders out of the emergency department to free up space the numbers will never fucking change. Sending one doctor down here isn’t going to change shit.”

“Are you just about done, Dr. Fullerton?” She did a dramatic pause to allow you time to cut in. “The board and its administration are well aware of the pressures that staff face down here in the emergency department - that all hospitals are currently facing shortages. The fact of the matter is studies show close to seventy-five percent of ER visits are non-life threatening, which means more than half of those patients could be fairly seen in triage without needing a room.”

You could feel your mouth opening; primed for a response that Gloria was not going to let you detonate. Her hand waved to warn you not to cut her off. 

“I don't want to hear any more about boarding or staffing. I want to see the results, Dr. Fullerton. It’s already bad enough that there are rats inside.”

“To be fair, they piggybacked on an unconscious unhoused man, so,” you shrugged. If looks could kill, you’d have dropped dead right then and there. “Not helpful?”

“No. Not helpful,” she confirmed. “I do, however, have a proposition for you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The earlier annoyance at seeing Gloria twice in less than two hours of your shift changed course. Dread ice cold and paralyzing coiled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t like where this was going. 

“Is there a pass option?”

“This is an offer from myself and the administration. So, no, there isn’t a ‘pass option.’ How would you like to be considered for an attending position?”

“No.” 

The word barreled out of you without thinking. You didn’t need to think about this proposition Gloria, the administration, or whoever was trying to dangle in front of you. It was any doctor's dream to become an attending at a facility - it made you the doctor. 

You didn’t want it like this. 

“You didn’t even hear the terms.”

“I don’t need to hear them to know that you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Robby is failing to meet standards -“

“Robby is a fucking good physician.” You fumed. “He’s one of the best physicians in trauma medicine you have here outside of Abbot.”

“No one is disputing that, Dr. Fullerton. The board is open to having you both down here during the morning shift, maybe even making a swing shift for you to help between shifts.”

You raked your hands over your face scrubbing hard to try and cut off a mirthless laugh that came out in patches between your fingers. 

“No - you want me to be a Judas. It’ll be a swing shift until you can get whatever data you need to confirm whatever fucked up plan you’re making.”

“Dr. Fullerton -“

“No!” You didn’t mean to shout the word at her. Or maybe you had. Whatever it was, it surprised you both. You should be quieter - don’t draw attention but your heart was thrashing wildly. Your hand swiped through the air to cut her off before she could attempt to continue. You didn’t want to fucking hear it. “Robby is a damn fine physician and to try and - I don’t fucking know, get rid of him because he doesn’t kiss the boards or your ass is fucking stupid. I don’t know half of what Robby or Abbot knows. I’m not them and it would be beyond idiotic to lose him.”

“Your opinion will be taken into consideration and I’ll dismiss your…outburst, for now, because of the current situation. But make no mistake, Dr. Fullerton this will move forward with, or without, you.”

You wondered if any natural disasters were named Gloria. It seemed possible since she came and created an instant upheaval of your day, completely devastating it in a matter of minutes and once she was done simply went about her day like nothing happened.  

She left you to deal with the aftermath. The rushing thoughts with a million questions - thousands of things you should’ve said to defend Robby. There were dozens of ways you could prove her wrong about him - that he fucking cared about his patients and was such a damn good doctor, phenomenal at times, that to equate all that he was and all that he did down to a simple metric of numbers was fucking ridiculous. 

All the sound in the room began to drown out around you. Somewhere in the background of the hum you heard a shout for help. It could be Code Blue. It could be anything. You tried to get your body to react, but the hurricane of anxiety was sweeping in fast and you were running out of air. 

You needed to sit. You had to act normal because the last thing you needed was Princess or Dana or fucking anybody else coming over to speak with you. Your hands used the counter like a rope to pull you along to the nearest computer. You quickly sat down and swiped your credentials to enter the computer, quickly clicking on anything just to appear busy. 

“How are you holding up today?”

The last person you expected to see at that very moment was Heather Collins. What did you expect? This was an emergency room and doctors worked inside of it. She offered up a close-lipped smile that matched the kindness in her eyes. She was genuinely wanting to know how you were doing and for the first time, you hated the question because you couldn’t answer it. 

Not truthfully, anyway. Who was ever truthful in answering that specific question?

So, you painted on a grin that more than likely resembled a grimace and prayed you didn’t look as tired as you felt. 

“It’s been…an adjustment.”

“What’s taking adjusting?”

Good god, this man was fucking everywhere. 

Robby came into view as he moved across the station to get to the opposite computer. The question was thrown out carelessly; he didn’t expect a response. He was pulling out his glasses and sliding them over his nose, his full focus on the screen. Test results thankfully took priority over your response. 

You were quickly forgotten by Collin’s who walked over to where Robby read the test results. She waited until he removed his glasses and stood to his full height. 

“Please don’t tell me you are going to intubate that poor old man?”

“It’s what the family wants.”

“So what? They want to torture him?”

“I explained all that.” 

It was painfully obvious this was a case you knew nothing about. By the sound of it, you were willing to bet five dollars that it was one of the elderly patients from a home who came in a little after 7:30 that morning. It meant it wasn’t your case. You didn’t need to know the information and you could continue counting down backward from ten while you reminded yourself that no, you weren’t Judas and -

“Dr. Fullerton, if a family came in -“

Fucking hell, you needed to stop zoning out. You brought your attention back to the two of them, wondering what you missed.

“You don’t need to ask her,” Robby interjected.

Collins continued like he’d never spoken. 

“And they had durable power over an elderly family member who had a pre-existing DNR. His family wants to intubate. It’s not what he wants. Whose choice do you honor?”

“What are you doing?” 

A singular brow of hers arched in defiance. 

“Asking for a second opinion.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

They continued to bicker about the decision Robby made to not fight for a dying man’s wishes. You would’ve told Collins to let it go because once Robby’s mind was made up, it was like talking to a wall. Maybe she already knew that. 

God, what fucking twilight zone episode were you stuck in? You actively wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Your eyes darted to the time on the bottom of the screen and you had to fight to keep your forehead from landing with a thud on the keyboard. It was only 9 o’clock. There were ten more hours of this day and you needed it to be over. 

Robby released a sigh that reflected how exhausted you felt. It wasn’t a physical exhaustion but one of the soul; a weariness that vines grew thorns and were beginning to tear you slowly open. You could feel your legs wanting to shift out of the chair and go to him. The urge was so strong your hands scrunched into fists to keep from moving - to quell the urge because he wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his. 

“Shit.”

“What?”

Robby’s best magic trick? Deflecting. Whenever he wanted the current conversation to end, and didn't like where it was heading, he diverted it completely into something else. Anything else that kept him from having to continue down a conversation he wanted no part of. You knew that trick all too well. 

“I got to go tell those parents their 18-year-old son is brain-dead.” 

“You want me to go with you?”

It should’ve been you offering to go with him. A comfort to the harbinger of bad news because it was never easy to give it. Never easy to stand in the storm of grief and simply be a bystander while their world ends in a matter of words. 

What did it matter who went with him? Who offered? At the end of the day, a family was forever going to be encapsulated by a loss too many people unfortunately knew. 

Vaguely, you caught the end of their argument. Robby wanted to perform an apnea test and a cerebral perfusion study. Dr. Collins didn’t agree. It offered the family false hope but Robby was right - maybe it did offer a false sense of hope, but with each test completed and results read off it was a graceful way to ease a family into acceptance. It gave them the time to process and grieve and come to the very heavy realization their son wouldn’t be going home with them. 

“They need time to process before they can accept what’s happening.”

“You ever consider taking that advice? Physician, heal thyself.”

Dear floor, please fucking open up wide so you can just swan dive right on in. Thanks a bunch. 

Heather knew. She fucking knew about the wall of grief - of acceptance - Robby himself was unable to accept. The King of dishing out advice left and right but unyielding in taking it. Suddenly, all the cool reserve of not caring about them dating evaporated in a crushing wave of heartbreak you shouldn’t have felt in the first place. 

Did he tell her about you? Did he share with her about…about what happened? Was he able to open up to her in ways he stopped doing with you? Their relationship was gone, but the respect and care were still there. 

The irritation came off him in waves. You should’ve told her Robby’s least favorite thing is being told to take his own advice. Or to heal for that matter. Oh, and to also maybe seek therapy. All three of those would turn his mood sour and aggravate him to peak levels at hyper speed. 

He shoved his hands down into his hoodie. His head swiveling between Collins and probably anywhere else in the ED. 

“Don’t you have patients?” 

There it was. The dismissal. The, in not so many words, “I’m done talking to you about this and everything else,” so he could make a quick exit. The magician's last trick before his temper was lost. 

Don’t look up. Do not look up. Don’t fucking do it. 

You didn’t need to look up. There wasn’t any reason to do so. You weren’t on their radar the last half of their conversation. You were just a bystander to a miniature car crash. The issue with crashes? Everyone who drove by couldn’t stop themselves from looking. 

The itch between your shoulder blades was your first warning sign. The weight of his gaze was bearing down on you. You didn’t have to react to it but it was a reflex to look up for him. To search for him in every crowded room and find yourself wishing he was there when he wasn’t. 

Your eyes found he was still looking at you. An in-house debate flashed across his features. If it was whether or not to come to you, you hope he chose not to. You just need a few moments of space. It was too much. You’d run from him and now he was just here all the time and -

“Why are you looking at puppies? You getting a dog?”

“What?”

For the first time since you’d opened the computer, you realized whoever was on it last left it open to an ad for a puppy. 

“Oh, no. This wasn’t me. Hey, earlier did someone shout a Code Blue?” 

You could also perform your own magical change of subjects. Robby took a moment to answer before giving a curt nod. 

“Whittaker’s patient that’d been placed in the hall. If you heard it, why didn’t you go assist? All hands on deck for a code, you know that.”

God, was he chastising you right now? A flood of irritation rippled over your skin. You wanted to snap at him. You weren’t a med student. But he was frustratingly right - you’d heard it and instead of running you’d kept yourself here. 

And Whitaker. It was his first patient of the day. He’d been so excited that he’d done good. He’d gotten praise from Dr. Robby about his work up and Whitaker wouldn’t shut up about it. It meant something to him. 

“I’ll go see if they need someone to switch.”

You went to get up but Robby was too close. If you got up from the chair you would bump straight into his chest. 

“You okay?”

The sudden care behind the question jarred you. How did he expect you to answer? There was no way you could be honest with him - not at that second. He was supposed to go break the worst news a parent could ever receive and he was worried about you. He should be worried for himself. You could warn him about Gloria but what good would it do if he thought you might possibly be in on it with her? Your sudden reappearance, while inconvenient, hadn’t raised suspicion like an ulterior motive waited in the wings just yet. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Never better.”

His smile held every worn line of fatigue that signaled his lack of sleep. His attempt at strength in a moment he refused to seek outside help. You found the same words Dr. Collins asked moments before crawling their way up your throat before you swallowed them back down. He wouldn’t change his mind and agree just because it was you. 

You wanted to be there because whether he voiced it or not, this kid whose family was seconds away from being told was gone wasn’t that much older than Jake. A single accident of taking non-prescribed Xanax ended his life. Jake was a good kid. You wanted to reach out and take his hand and tell him Jake would never - Jake was different. 

Jake was still a kid. 

Robby didn’t wait for you to reply before he headed towards the room. You kept telling yourself to get up and move. Go find Whitaker and the team performing cpr on his patient and do your part. Between everything that’s happened this morning: being forced down with Robby, seeing Robby, Dr. Mohan requesting to speak with you, Gloria’s ultimatum and now the news this young kid didn’t make it you were officially mentally exhausted. 

You needed to move but by the time your legs finally lifted out of the seat, Robby told them. The mother’s wail of agony resounded through the room and rose in octaves. The soul-wrenching loss of her child, her baby, turned the Pitt into a mausoleum of mourning. Her cries followed you down the hallway until you reached the curtain where Whitaker and others were on their third round of Epi, and you could see the continued despair evident in the room. 

It was barely 9 AM and you already wanted to fucking go home. 

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @travelingmypassion @jupiter-sky @catsgoogander @rosiepoise88 @It-jakeseresin @blackpopcorn @celmentine111002 @dcgoddess

[6ebe]

why have I been asked on spontaneous evening plans by different people two days in a row who do people think I am omg

[maho6any]

Tidal Waves

Best Friend!Song Mingi x F!Reader

summary: When you and your ex-boyfriend were still dating, you both booked a cruise trip with the intention of going together to have a romantic week on the water. Well, things didn't go as planned, and the tickets are non-refundable. So naturally, you ask your best friend to come with you in his place! Nothing could possibly go wrong!

warnings: best friends to lovers, cruise trip, tension, curly headed reader implied (3c girls rise), jealousy, mingi is very touchy, you two are very close, attempt at humor, teasing, fake dating(briefly but WHO CHEERED), shitty ex, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc.), thigh riding, unprotected sex(BOOOOO), soft mdom, size kink, choking, fingering, mingi is obsessed with you, NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 11.1k

notes: This is kind of based on that one New Girl episode LMAO. I love that show so much.

(Also in your fantasy released and holy fuck its so good aoty for sure jesus christ I keep relistening to the whole album.)

tracklist: 20cm, everybody here wants you, virginia girls

When the email hit your inbox, you wanted to rip out your hair strand by strand. You had let it completely slip your mind. Granted, you booked it a year in advance, and life has surely swept you up in the waves recently, and it never crossed your mind with all that you had going on.

Non-refundable. The cruise was in a week, and the tickets were non-refundable. The last thing you wanted to do was call your ex and ask if he still wanted to go, which was not an option, regardless of whether he actually wanted to or not. You’d rather jump off the ship than be anywhere near him.

So your next best option was to ask a friend to go in his place. And the first name that came to mind?

Song Mingi.

You pulled out your phone and shot him a text asking him to come over, and that was that. Reaching out to Mingi was more natural than breathing. At this point, you two shared breaths, surviving through high school together and now hanging on by a thread in college, you both knew you had each other.

His easy-going, teasing nature perfectly balanced out the worrywart in you. He always assured and validated your thoughts and feelings. He made sure you knew that everything that you thought and felt meant something, a trait your most recent ex lacked incredibly. You knew you could actually enjoy the cruise if Mingi came along.

Minutes later, Mingi waltzed in your door, having a copy of a key to your apartment attached to his key ring. At this point, he basically lived in your apartment, constantly crashing and walking in like he owned the place, especially when he was uninvited.

“Daddy’s home,” he called out, shutting the door behind him and hitting his fist against his chest like a triumphant gorilla.

You grimaced and threw the nearest pillow directly at his face as soon as he was in view.

“Ew. Daddy needs to go out for cigarettes and never come back.” Mingi walked behind the couch, leaning over the back and gently squeezing your shoulders.

“Tough crowd.” He mused, in his usual black tank top and grey sweats, as he plopped down next to you. His big hands took your ankles in his hands and swung your legs up to let them rest on his thighs. Domestic. Comforting. The norm with Mingi. Taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, he massaged absent-minded circles into your calves, soothing the bit of tension you had been building there from constantly being on your feet at work.

“However, you invited me over, love, so I’m not going anywhere. Enlighten me, I’m sure it's important considering you gave me zero information and just a frantic text.” You rolled your eyes and then furrowed your brow in frustration. The laptop in your lap was hot on your thighs, so you turned it around to face the screen towards him.

“Well shit, hold on.” He grabbed his glasses and put them on again, making a show of squinting his eyes and leaning forward to read the email you had pulled up.

He glanced back up at you, then back at the email. He shrugged. “I dunno’, looks kinda scammish to me.” He smiled as you shut the laptop in his face, putting it on the table.

“I love when you use that big beautiful brain of yours,” you deadpanned, poking his forehead gently. Mingi smiled stupidly, with faux sheepishness at your sarcastic comment, gently pinching your calf teasingly. You sighed and took a second before explaining to him.

“My, well… my ex and I-”

Before you could go on, Mingi stood from his seat, with speed that nearly scared you out of your skin. He threw his hands up and paced around the coffee table, shaking his head like he was in agony and making a quite real gagging sound.

He had always been one for dramatics, and this time was clearly no different. You kept your mouth shut and let him put on his little act.

“That prick!” he placed his hands on his head like he had a migraine, gagging again. “If ever see him I'll-” cartoonishly he balled his hands into fists and rotated them in a fighting position like he was about to roundhouse the air. “I swear I'll give it to him… I’ll let him have it!” 

He never liked your boyfriend. At first, you pegged it for jealousy that someone else was taking up your attention, but Mingi insisted he got a “bad vibe” from the start. Every time you complained about him, Mingi always agreed with every negative thing you said, always making sure you didn’t feel crazy about how your boyfriend was acting. It started with small things that simply rubbed you the wrong way at the beginning. Mingi always egged you on with your concerns.

“Why the hell would he open a door for another girl in front of you? Is he dense?”

“Seriously, who hangs up on their girlfriend just to play video games. I’m starting to think he was dropped on his head.”

The comments were always lighthearted, teasing. Like he was annoyed with his actions, but not quite hating him. And then he got worse. And Mingi started opening your eyes to it.

“(Name,) it's not normal to have 4 different contacts in your phone all named 'Pizza Hut.'”

And Mingi was the one who eventually brought you to your senses. You called your boyfriend, called him out, and of course, he got mad when he found out it was Mingi who was encouraging your skepticism and called you some not-so-nice names, accusing you of sleeping with your best friend. You broke up with him, and Mingi was there to babysit you through the breakup. No matter if your ex was a douchebag, it was a 2-year-long relationship, and there will always be wounds to heal.

He punched the air a few times before calmly retaking his seat, directing his full attention to you.

“Are you done?” you asked after letting him have his moment.

“Yes, please continue.” He nodded, hands on your knees as he shook them back and forth softly, urging you to continue.

“Anyway, while we were still together, we bought cruise tickets. Two. Because we thought we could go together. Y’know little romantic outing. Well, obviously, asshole and I are no longer fraternizing and the tickets are nonrefundable, so I wanted you to-” 

Here he goes again. He stands up, hands in the air, as he nods triumphantly and looks about the living room like he is admiring a crowd erupting with applause. He bowed. “Thank you, thank you! You are too kind!” He claps a few times, wiping imaginary tears. You reached up and grabbed his forearm, dragging him back to the couch.

“Sit down! And let me speak.” Mingi shut up immediately and folded his hands in his lap neatly.

 “Yes, ma'am.” 

“So I’m taking that as a yes. The cruise is in a week, and it's all paid for. Please pack more clothes than you did for the Europe trip. I do not want to see you wearing the same stupid pair of khaki shorts the whole time we’re stuck in the middle of the ocean for a week.”

“You know I look sexy in those shorts.” Mingi pats his rather thick thighs, head raised high, while he waits for your praises. You stood up and ignored him, walking to the kitchen to grab some water. You wouldn’t admit to him that, frankly, he looks good in everything he wears, cause then you’d never hear the end of it.

Mingi scoffed as you walked away. “I fear I’m being deprived of the attention I deserve.” 

“Do you really deserve it?” You called from the kitchen. Mingi followed you into the room, resting his arms on the kitchen island and playing with the bowl of oranges sitting in the middle of the countertop.

“You have the blessed privilege of being my friend, so I’d say you’re getting way more than you bargained for.” he picked up a couple of oranges and attempted to juggle them, failing pathetically as they slipped out of his grasp and fell on the counter, rolling onto the floor.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled into your glass as you tipped it to take a sip. “I’d say I am, too.” When you set down the glass, you shot him a pointed look when he bent down to pick up the rolling fruits, and flicked a little water at him.

“And aren’t I the one taking you on a cruise? If anything, you should be on your knees thanking me for a free vacation.” And you knew you shouldn't have said it as soon as the words left your mouth, because here he comes, walking over to you and sinking down onto his knees. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and he presses his forehead to your lower stomach, that stupid puppy-eyed look in his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, thank you so much for the free vacation. I am beyond honoured. How could I ever repay you?” Earlier on in your friendship, this probably would have sent your brain into overdrive, having such an attractive man on his knees for you. But this is Mingi. It's an act; he puts on shows just for you, because he knows that one day he could possibly catch you on a weak day and actually push some buttons. Now you just wanted to kick him. He loved getting under your skin and finding new ways to make you squirm. Not even in a perverted way, that was just simply his nature.

Playful, headache-inducing, too sexy for his own good, Song Mingi. 

And like every single time, you can’t help but play along.”You can repay me by getting off your knees and driving to pick us up some dinner.”

He squeezes your thighs, spreading his fingers wider and letting them sink into the plush flesh, clearly not making a move to stand. “C’mon, you don’t like me down here?” he spoke against your belly button, always so comfortable touching you, the gestures never giving you those stomach-twisting butterflies anymore. 

You shrug. “I don’t know you’re not really doing anything. You’re just groveling.” Mingi smiles, and he does that stupid thing with his voice that you unfortunately haven’t built an immunity to after all these years.

His eyelids lower, and he drops his voice to a murmur, the baritone of his voice rumbling through your body like a shockwave. “Would you like me to do something? Give me a command, I’m at your service.”

Fuck, you hate when he does that, he knows that. Cheeky prick.

You cough, bringing a hand down and pressing a palm against the top of his head, nudging him away from your abdomen. “I’d like for you to get up and feed me, Min.” You managed to keep your voice steady, pretending to have no interest in his antics, picking up your glass again and taking another sip.

A few beats of silence, his gaze lingering as he cranes his neck to watch you drink, your hand still on his head.

Finally, he complies, and your racing heart slows. He stands, rolling his eyes. He walks to the living room, grabbing his keys and his glasses. “Yes, ma’am. Olive Garden?” he says matter of factly, knowing what your answer would be, hand already on the door handle.

“You know it. Extra Andes mints, please,” you chide, but you knew you didn’t have to tell him. He already knew.

“On it,” he calls, halfway out the door already. “Love ya, bye.” The door shutting cut him off, and once you heard his car start and pull out of the lot, you let yourself have your moment. You brought a hand to your chest and the other splayed on your stomach, still feeling the lingering heat of his touch.

Too intense. Yes, he had always been this way, but since you and your boyfriend broke up, he seemed to be getting bolder. You guess you could understand. There's no other man around, which means he no longer has to honor the “bro code,” so now he can really show you how much he cares for you, and it's always been touch.

Holding hands, lingering caresses against the nape of your neck, fingers buried in your hair soothingly massaging the scalp, he just liked to touch you and to hold you. It's like it grounded him, it let him know you were really here. And you welcomed it with open arms, because he’s your best friend. And you’d do anything for him, and vice versa. He had ways of tearing down your walls, but could still help you build them back up when you needed them. He was your other half, and frankly, you couldn't really say your ex was ridiculous for thinking what he did about Mingi.

But none of that matters. Your ex is gone, and you can enjoy this cruise with your closest friend without having to worry about your boyfriend looking at other bikini-clad bodies and admitting to you that "your head has been getting rather sloppy" after he’s had a couple of mimosas.

What a fucking dick.

♡

“No,” you bite, hand half covering your eyes.

“What? You’re just a hater.” Mingi pouts, posing proudly, the sea winds whipping his hair around his face, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Mingi, you literally cannot wear that on the boat, I'm so serious.” You look away, trying to make it seem like you didn’t know him. “Change, please. I know you have another shirt.”

“What's wrong with it?!” He gripped the hem of the shirt with his fingertips, spreading it out and looking down at it.

“People are going to think you’re a fucking swinger dude. Pineapples? On a cruise? Are you sure this isn’t your first day on earth?” You turn around and look up at the open blue sky, trying to ignore the pointed stares of people passing by to board the boat.

“I don't get the big deal with the pineapples. Like, why specifically pineapples? Why not oranges? I feel like I might look a little less appealing in oranges…”

“Mingi, who cares what fruit you look good in!”

“I do…” he pouted.

“Just change your shirt, dude, please. I don’t need swingers trying to take you below deck…” You frowned at him, and he looked you over, huffing dramatically. He could never say no to you. Especially when you said please.

“Fine, fine, I’ll change.” You turn to look at him again, and this time he is shirtless, rummaging through the beach bag on his shoulder. The sun caught his skin perfectly, the shadowed dips and ridges in his abdomen highlighted, and his arms flexed each time he grabbed something in the bag as he rummaged. His navy blue swim trunks hung low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination as the very visible V line dipped behind the waistband and disappeared.

“And yeah sure, just go ahead and strip naked while you’re at it.” You threw up a hand in defeat; you could never truly win. Mingi smirked, grabbed a different shirt, and stood straight to look at you again. 

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he wiggled his eyebrows. You groaned in response, lowering your voice as he slipped the gray swim shirt on.

“I wouldn’t, but I think all the other women boarding the cruise would be quite partial to a show with the way they’re all gawking right now.” And lo and behold, a group of like 10 girls alone walked past you two, giggling and tripping over themselves at the sight of your shirtless friend. 

Mingi paid them no mind, not even bothering to glance their way, his gaze solely focused on you. “Jealous?” he quipped, slinging the bag over his back and cocking his head toward the ship. “C’mon, before they leave us.”

“They’re not gonna leave us.” You sighed, following behind as he walked away.

“Um, uh huh. They’re not gonna wait for your slow ass because you want to sightsee.”

“I am never late,” you bite back, pressing your foot to the back of his knee in a failed attempt to fold him like a lawn chair. “It's always you, don’t try to pass your title on to me. Remember that time we were supposed to be at a study group and you didn’t show up until after the entire session was over?”

Mingi laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “That's different because that was intentional. I didn’t feel like sitting in a library cubicle for 3 hours while our appointed “group leader” wrote barely legible points on a whiteboard. Boring!!! I’d rather be jerking o-”

That deserved a smack to the back of the head, which you administered before he could finish his sentence. “And that's enough out of you. We’re not even on the fucking boat yet.” He winced, rubbing the back of his head.

“I didn’t even hit you that hard, you baby.” You stood in line beside him on the ramp that entered the ship. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t hit me at all,” Mingi sneered, reaching a hand out and tugging a lock of your hair.

When you entered the cruise ship and made it to the atrium, you didn’t realize just how grand it was actually going to be. The tallest ceilings imaginable, winding staircases every which way, endless balconies, and chandeliers that looked big enough to live in. It was beautiful in every way.

With your keys in hand, you both took the elevator to get to your shared cabin, and it wasn’t until you were in front of the door that you realized that you had booked a lovers' suite. You pressed the keycard against the door and pushed the door open. Well shit.

Dark, shiny wooden floors, a large window opening up to the vast blue ocean. A recliner, a small couch, and a quite large circular-shaped bed. Elegant. Large. Intimate. White canopies hung around the bed frame, and the furniture was all dark and quite comfy-looking. You had no issue sharing a bed with Mingi, but the fact that it was obviously a lover’s suite, it did feel a little… different.

Like a kid in a candy store, Mingi rushed into the room and immediately threw himself onto the bed, wrinkling the sheets and letting his face sink into the plush comforter. 

“Oh yeah,” he spoke, voice incredibly muffled with his face in the mattress. “I’m never leaving.” You set your bags down and walked around, taking in the room. It was spacious, plenty of room to move around, but it still somehow felt so stuffed.

“We’ll have to head to the deck soon. The captain will probably have a few words, and then we can go explore the ship.” Mingi sprang from the bed, whipping to face you.

“Well, why are we sitting here fucking around?  Let's go!” He grabbed your hand and dragged you from the room, heading back up to the deck.

♡

You had been on the ship for 2 days. By this time, you had thoroughly explored the ship with Mingi and tried only half of the drinks they had available at the bars. And you’d think you’d learn after 2 crazy hangovers that maybe you should give the drinking a rest, but there was always something new to try. It was like the ship was endless, a whole new world,

You were far out into the ocean by now, sailing leisurely. You often found yourself sunbathing on the main deck, splayed out on a beach chair, and soaking in the sun. Mingi would either be lying next to you or in the on-deck pool playing catch with the other vacationers.

It was interesting watching him get used to the new space; it took some breaking in for both of you to realize that the chance of the ship suddenly sinking was low. Spending hours in the cabin trying not to panic at the thought. Mingi assured you, and in turn, you assured him.

It was going so well, you needed this vacation, and the only issue you had was that eventually you would have to go back home. Well, it was the only issue.

You sat up in your chair to see where Mingi was. He was at the edge of the pool in front of your chair, arms resting on the deck as he lay his head on his arms, looking at you. The sunglasses on his face blocked his eyes, but you could easily feel his gaze on you.

“Can I help you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction. Mingi didn’t say anything for a second before bracing his palms on the deck and pushing himself out of the pool. Honestly fuck him. 

The water dripped off his toned body as he lifted out of the pool, his hair and trunks soaked and his skin sun-kissed from the days in the sun already.

He walked over to your chair, and you had to pretend like looking at him all tan and wet wasn’t making you think of things you definitely shouldn’t have been.

He reached his hand up, running hands through his damp hair, pouting while he concentrated. He always pouted when he was fixing his hair. He had little quirks and traits you noticed about him just being around him all the time. Whenever he took pictures or videos of himself, he was always watching himself so intently, monitoring every move. You had called him self-obsessed, and of course, he didn’t deny it.

“Why shouldn’t I? I look good, who wouldn’t wanna look at me?” When he laughed, he’d fall over himself, unable to keep still as the giggles wracked his body.

And now here he was, dripping wet and towering over your chair, and women all around the deck were staring, their boyfriends desperate to steal their attention back from your best friend.

When he was done with his hair, he looked down at you, nodding as if in approval. “You always look so good in the sun.” He said it simply, like it was just a normal thing to say. You guessed it was, but when you were both half-naked and sweating from the heat of the sun, it had different connotations. You took a long sip of your tequila sunrise, locking eyes with Mingi as he watched you.

Your hair had gotten a bit frizzy after a couple of laps in the pool earlier, and tan lines were beginning to form around the straps of your bathing suit. The stretch marks littered around your thighs are more visible, and the sheen of your skin makes it seem like you were glowing. You both didn’t move for a moment, and time was still. You picked the slice of orange out of your drink, slipping it into your mouth and chewing on it.

“Is it good?” Mingi said, and you could have sworn his voice sounded slightly strained. Maybe it was the heat.

“Yeah, want some?” You reached out to hand him the glass, and you expected him to take the glass from you. Instead, his hand cupped around yours, leaning down and sipping from the glass while it was still in your hand. His palm, large and warm, pressed against your knuckles as he drank.

“Not all of it, asshole!” He laughed around the straw and pulled off, licking his lips and stealing the cherry from the glass, popping it into his mouth.

“Get your own if you’re gonna be greedy.” You pout, taking another sip from your drink. Mingi was about to retort when someone called out to you from the other side of the boat.

“(Name)! No way! Didn’t think I’d see you here!” Your spine pulled, and your eyes widened at the familiar voice. Mingi did the same, an annoyed grimace spreading across his face as he realized who was speaking.

Walking towards you two from the other side of the ship, your ex. In swim trunks with a beer in one hand and a blonde attached to his hip, he sauntered over, waving to you both.

“Mingi’s here too? Hah! What’d you do, give him my ticket?” He was all smiles and laughs, probably buzzed out of his mind. The girl next to him laughed with him. But it was like she was barely there. Like she was an attachment or an accessory.

Mingi turned to you and gestured for you to stand up. “Get up, c’mere.” You didn’t move for a second, eyes too busy watching the asshole make his way over.

“(Name.)” Mingi bent down to be eye level with you, cupping your jaw and directing your gaze at him. “Do you trust me?” he murmured.

“Of course.” No hesitation. That shouldn’t even be a question. Of course, you trusted him

“Okay. We are madly in love, got it? Stupid for each other. And… scene.” 

“What?”

Mingi gave you no time, pulling you to your feet and positioning himself behind you. He leaned over your body, his toned chest pressed to your bare back as his arms circled around and locked around your waist, hands resting on your abdomen. He rested his chin against your shoulder, pressing his lips into the crook of your neck. 

“Put on a show and make him jealous,” Mingi whispered against your skin, his breath tickling your neck and making you shiver. His fingertips traced light patterns below your belly button, domestic. When his plan clicked with you, you eased into him, melting against his body and relaxing, you smiled lazily, and Mingi pressed his lips to your ear.

“Showtime, baby.” When your ex finally stood in front of you, he made a face, like he was taken aback. Like usual, Mingi was clinging to you like a koala, but something was different.

“That's exactly what I did,” you snipped, but kept a smile on your face despite the annoyed tone in your voice. “Tickets were non-refundable, so I had Mingi come with me. It works anyway, we got the lovers package, so no losses for us. What, salty you had to buy new tickets?”

Your ex sneered, wrapping his arm around the girl tightly. “Well, I tried to contact you about the tickets, but you had me blocked, and I didn’t wanna come over with your human barnacle always over your shoulder.”

Mingi was littering kisses all along the sides of your neck, hands caressing your waist, and just holding you close to him. “Human boyfriend, actually,” Mingi said, lifting his head and looking him up and down, a clear look of disgust in his gaze as he took your ex in.

“She called me, talking about how she had a couple of tickets for this whole shebang, and she wanted me to come in your place. How could I not? Now I get to see her strutting around all day for a week in all these different bikinis I bought her…” To emphasize his point, he reached forward and adjusted the cup of your bikini top, just enough to push your breasts apart to have them sit perfectly. 

Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Before you both packed for the trip, you went bathing suit shopping with Mingi. He picked out so many for you, having you try them all on, hyping you up in every angle, one, and assuring you in the ones you felt you didn’t like yourself in. He bought you like 12, which you insisted was excessive, but he wanted you to wear every single one this summer.

Your ex pressed his lips into a thin line as his eyes drifted to where Mingi touched you. “C’mon, man, I leave and you jump on her immediately?” You could hear the jealousy lacing his words, your heart thumping in pride at how you were getting under his skin.

Mingi shrugs, your ex's jaw clenching slightly at his nonchalance. Mingi never took him seriously, and your ex always expressed how he felt like Mingi never actually saw him as a man. He felt small and weak around Mingi, and frankly, it was pretty laughable.

“Technically, I had her first, but you left, so I called dibs. What can I say, I'm not one to shy away from opportunities, dude.” And of course, Mingi just had to amp up the ante in ways that you weren't expecting.

One hand teasingly played with the strings of your bathing suit bottom, twirling it around his fingers, while his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it over your shoulder, exposing your neck to him more.

His eyes never left your exes, his gaze cold and taunting, as his lips latched onto your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a filthy stripe against you before sucking, and sucking hard. You winced, feeling his teeth nip at the spot a little, right above a vein in your throat, eyes half lidded and narrowed, he made sure your ex was watching the entire time. There was no way he’d wanna miss this.

Your ex ground his teeth as he watched Mingi suck a mark into your skin. He ripped his eyes away to look at the girl beside him, just to catch her staring at Mingi like he was the hottest thing she had ever seen, practically drooling on herself. You, however, felt like Mingi just might be crazy, because now you’re going to have a very clear bruise on your skin from his mouth. And fuck the fact that it was to rattle your ex. You were still stuck on this boat for 3 more days, and he was killing you.

Mingi pulled off with a loud pop, licking the spot he left to soothe it, before pressing a lingering kiss or two to your shoulder. Your ex laughed when his eyes landed on the forming bruise, taking a deep gulp of his beer, almost crushing the can with his grip.

“Clearly, we’re interrupting.” Your ex bit out, running a hand through his hair and giving Mingi a look that could kill.

“N-no, I think it's fine…” His girl mumbled out, seeming to be enjoying the show. Your ex rolled his eyes when he realized he genuinely had nobody on his side at the moment.

“Well, as always, it was nice seeing you (Name.) Mingi, not so much.” Mingi smirked, his eyebrows raising teasingly like he was asking, “What’d I do?”

“Enjoy your vacation, bitch.” your ex mumbled under his breath as he turned and walked away, back to his respective side of the boat, leaving his girl in his dust. She stood staring for a second before snapping out of it.

“I-it was nice meeting you!” She stumbled out before turning on her heel and following him. Once they were out of sight, you pulled yourself from Mingi’s grasp, turning around to look at him, bewilderment written all over your face.

“Song Mingi.” You whisper shouted, reaching a hand up to touch the tender spot on your neck. “You are insane. This is gonna be here for weeks!”

Mingi bit his bottom lip, trying to keep the shit eating grin under bay as he looked at the mark on your neck. “Whoops,” he shrugged. “I think he’s jealous of you.”

“Whoops my ass.” you groaned. “And what do you mean he’s jealous of me?”

 Walking to the edge of the pool and slipping in the cool water, sighing at the stark contrast of the chill against your very heated skin.

“I mean, you’ve got such a hot babe such as myself all over you, how could he not be jealous?” He smiled, feeling triumphant with his joke. The ever-so-humble Mingi. You laughed him off,  enjoying the feel of the pool water swallowing you up.

He did not need to go that far, but you didn’t stop him. You let him mark you, and he did it so naturally. Your stomach fluttered, and you dunked your head under the water to try and clear the thoughts from your head. It felt like a line that had never been drawn was crossed. There really was never a line of boundaries between you and Mingi. Everything was on the table for the most part. But the way he so sensually licked up your throat and held you with his burning hands like he couldn’t stand to be away from you had your mind reeling. What now?

Mingi sat on the beach chair, watching as you ascended from under the water, admiring how the droplets raced down your skin and the way your hair didn’t quite soak up all the water, the sun bouncing off the shiny curls.

Mingi was never shy about admiring you. Any friend can admit that their friend is beautiful, and you were no exception. He loved to watch you do anything. Making coffee, reading a book, cleaning your room, or getting out of the car. You looked pretty in everything you did, and he always made sure you knew.

But now there was something different about the way you moved. He noticed the sway in your hips, the way your hair framed your face and your lashes brushed against your cheeks when you blinked. The way your hands kept absentmindedly touching the bruise on your neck every now and then, and how the spots of discoloration and a few scars here and there all over your body decorate your skin like starlight. He was really seeing you now, and you thrived in the sun. You looked so fucking pretty in the sun.

Now you were lying on a float, sunglasses on and relaxing in the pool, drifting slowly and taking a moment to relax from the heated moment you just narrowly escaped with your head still intact. And Mingi simply sat and watched. He could watch you all day. A weird flame licked at his chest every time he looked at the bruise on your neck, a sense of pride and ownership gripping his heart. He did that. And for something deep in his gut wanted to litter your pretty skin with more.

♡

Nightfall descended once again, the blue sea being swallowed in pitch black darkness, the only lights coming from the ship itself, like you were floating in endless nothing. You and Mingi decided you’d try some new drinks and meander around the ship before heading back to the cabin. You still hadn't seen the whole boat, endless hallways, and vast rooms, still left untouched.

“Okay what about a kiss on the lips?” you ask, eyes glazing over the drink menu on the black chalkboard by the bar.

“Oh boy don’t mind if I do!” Mingi clapped, cheesily puckering his lips and leaning towards you.

“The drink, you jackass.” You glared at him, and Mingi pouted, rolling his eyes and looking back at the chalkboard.

“Whatever. I kind of want to try the blue Hawaiian. Or maybe the Miami Vice. I don't know, they're all so colorful.” You both settled on a drink, Mingi getting a blue Hawaiian, and you settled on a mai tai.

With your drinks in hand, you both left the bar area and started to walk around the ship. The rest of the ship was surprisingly empty, most people already back at their cabins or still on deck or at the bar. A few stragglers here and there, but for the most part, you and Mingi were on your own.

“I feel like we’re in the backrooms,” you said, whispering like you might disturb someone. “It's so liminal back here.” You were both walking side by side down an endless hallway, red plush carpet under your feet, passing a door every 3 steps you took on either side of the hall.

“I think it’s just another floor of cabins,” Mingi spoke into the space, his deep voice bouncing off the beige walls.

“It seems really empty, though. Maybe it's just unoccupied. Where are we going anyway?” You two didn’t plan anything in particular; you just started to drink and walk, light conversation flowing between the two of you, the tension from the earlier encounter with your ex fading into the background.

But when you guys turned the corner to follow the rest of the hallway, you suddenly heard groaning and shuffling of clothes. You and Mingi stopped in your tracks right before you turned the corner. You both slipped behind the wall and peeked around just to see your ex and an entirely new girl making out in the dark against a wall. A brunette this time.

Your face twisted in disgust at his behavior, before Mingi shook your shoulder to grab your attention.

“I’m gonna scream,” Mingi whispered, barely hiding the giggling in his voice as he smiled so wide you thought he might split his face. You couldn't stop the grin on your lips, trying to be the voice of reason.

“No Mingi! Don’t do it…” but you weren’t really trying to stop it. 

“On 3, I scream and then we book it.” You nodded, and your heart raced; you could hear the kissing getting more heated as you braced yourself to get ready to run.

“1..”

“2..”

“3..”

Mingi yelled, and he yelled LOUD. Immediately, you could hear the girl your ex was swapping tongue with scream in fear, and he screamed just as loud, by the time they were frantically asking “what the fuck was that?”, Mingi and you were flying on your feet down the hall, laughing uncontrollably as you both booked it.

“Back to the room!” he cackled, pushing against your lower back, urging you to run faster. Running down long hallways always made it feel like you were moving faster than you actually were, but it was exhilarating.

You turned the corner, laughter still spilling from you both until you made it to the elevator. Mingi repeatedly pressed the up button like it would make it go faster.

“Stop, you're gonna break it!” you said, smacking his wrist. He stopped pressing the button and waited for it to arrive.

 When you both made it back to your cabin, you set your empty glass on the table by the door and fell on the bed, taking a deep breath and sinking into the mattress, trying to regain your composure.

“I hate running." You breathed out, Mingi watched from the vanity as your chest rose and fell with your breaths, still nursing his drink. The alcohol was flowing through your veins and you were hot and tired. You needed to go to sleep.

“Mingi tuck me in,” you called out, flipping over on your back and sitting on the bed looking at him. Mingi raised an eyebrow, saying nothing at your command as he remained glued to his spot.

You groaned. “Please?” And he moved. Setting his glass on the counter and walked over and picked up a pillow. “C’mon, get up for me.”

You stood and let him pull the comforter back, and you slipped underneath as he fluffed your pillows and handed you your phone. “Thank you, Min.” You spoke fondly, feeling pampered.

“I’m gonna go shower, I’ll be in bed soon. Get some rest, I know those 30 seconds of running really took it out of you.” Without missing a beat, you threw a pillow at him, flipping him the bird as he turned, giggling as he walked to the shower.

Sleep took you easily after some scrolling and phone time; you eventually drifted off, the sound of Mingi showering fading into background noise.

When you were stirred from your sleep, Mingi had slipped into bed next to you, his chest pressed against your back as an arm slung over your shoulder, and pulled you into his body. He buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath and melting into the bed. You relaxed into him, drifting off to sleep once you were comfy again, the steadiness of his breathing lulling and calm. Nothing was weird. Everything was normal. You were just two really close friends. He was doing you a favor; he meant nothing behind it. Nothing was going to change.

♡

“My pretty girl,” he moaned into your mouth, tongue slipping past your lips and swallowing your sounds greedily. “My gorgeous gorgeous girl. I’m the only one who deserves you.” Your head was light, and your body was on fire. His hands were all over you, in your hair and wrapped around your torso, between your legs, and around your neck. His scent enveloped you, and your stomach ached.

“Gonna have you crying for me, baby. Show you what you’ve been missing all these years.” He was all over you, barely letting you breathe. It's not like you needed to; you were perfectly content where you were, tangled with him in the sheets. The world is far away. Just you and him.

“Mingi…” you whined, your voice far away from you, your own hands balled in a fist against his shirt as he claimed you like you were rightfully his.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes shot open, sweat clung to your body, and your head throbbed. Your breathing came fast as you realized you were dreaming. The room was dark, and the sloshing of waves was heard outside the window as the boat continued on its journey.

Groggily, you moved to sit up, but an arm pulled you down by your shoulder, shoving you onto your back into the mattress. Mingi sat up, leaning his head over to try and look at you in the darkness. “What did you say?” He said again, one hand holding down your shoulder while the other pressed against the headboard, effectively caging you in.

You were bewildered. You were having a wet dream about your best friend right next to him. Humiliating.

When you didn’t respond, Mingi’s voice lowered, his grip on you softening as he leaned his head down to whisper in your ear. “You said my name.” Not a question. A fact. You were moaning his name in your sleep. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

The room was silent, and the air was stagnant. His voice was thick with sleep, and right now, you were so glad it was so dark he couldn’t see your face.

“Nu uh.” You squeaked, mentally punching yourself. That was the best you could think of. Jesus Christ.

“Yuh huh.” He replied, feeling a hand, large and warm, rest against your stomach, he gently massaged the area, in an attempt to soothe you. But it, in fact, was doing the opposite.

“Min, I’m not doing this right now.” You sat up, moving away from his touch, swinging your legs over to dangle off the side of the bed.

“You started it!” He made no move to stop you. “Literally, I was sleeping and all I hear is 'oh Mingi-”

“STOP.” You cover your ears. “Lalalalala I can’t hear you!” You went to stand on your feet, but his hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You stayed, his grip hot against your skin as he kept you there in the dark.

“Wait. (Name.)” Mingi’s voice was low, careful. Testing. “Don’t go. Where are you going?” You bit your bottom lip; that pout in his voice was always enough to keep you in place. You were so hot. Sweaty and turned on, and his voice was only making it worse.

“Don’t talk.” You clipped, voice shaky. Mingi dragged you by your wrist back to the bed, pulling you on top of his body. His back was propped against the headboard, sitting up. He pulled you onto his lap, both legs straddling his thighs. Both hands circled your waist, keeping your body upright on his lap.

“Why not?” He mumbled, his thumbs massaging your sides. “I know you like hearing me talk.”

“That's the issue.” You said back, no longer trying to get away from him. “The last thing I need from you right now is your stupid voice.”

He ignored you. “Were you dreaming about me?” Mingi squeezed your waist, smiling at the hitch in your breath when you felt it. You didn’t respond, burying your face in your hands. Mingi wasn’t having it.

“Talk to me.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against that mark he left on your neck, softly dragging them across the skin. You whimpered, and Mingi seemed to like it.

It took you a second to notice the tent in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh where you sat on him. When you finally noticed, you groaned.

“Mingi..”

“Yes?” he whispered into the crook of your neck.

“What are we doing?” You waited, silence enveloped again, then his hand slipped behind your back, pushing it against you and causing you to fall forward against his chest, your forehead on his shoulder, and his lips tickling your ear.

“What do you want us to do?” He spoke, voice barely even a whisper, so quiet it almost felt like he was talking to himself. He smelled spicy, woody. Clean and sexy, like Mingi. “Be honest,” a command almost. It didn’t sound like he wanted any more beating around the bush.

You shrugged, trying your best to keep it together, play it off. “I don’t know... you've been a little more attractive lately."

Mingi laughed breathily against your ear, a hand circling around the back of your neck, bringing your head back so you were looking at him, your noses brushing in the darkness, Your breaths mingled and your heart had never raced so fast. You bet if you could see him clearly you’d have a heart attack.

“Have I?” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Are my charms finally working on you?” A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hand drag up your thigh, hooking at your hip and pressing you down onto his lap, every so slightly grinding your body onto his. A low groan slipped from his lips, baritone and heavy. You were dizzy. So dizzy.

“Finally?” you whisper, your hands clammy and your underwear feeling unusually sticky.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” Mingi mumbled against your cheek, his breathing hot and heavy against your skin. “If you knew the things I’ve imagined about you, I have a feeling you might lose some respect for me.” Challenge accepted.

“Like what?” you asked, genuine curiosity in your tone, but also laced with a fear of what he might say.

“For starters, I would have loved to lay you out on that beach chair in front of your ex and eat your pussy until you were shaking. Show him how he could never lay his hands on you again. Or how, when you have me over for dinner, how badly I want to bend you over the kitchen island and fuck you stupid, till you drool all over yourself and I ruin you for anyone else. My personal favorite trapping you in my arms, looking all pretty in my bed sheets and driving my cock into you so deep you feel it in your throat-”

“Mingi I swear to fucking god I’ll kill you.”

“I warned you!” He exclaimed, pinching your thigh gently. “Can’t get mad at me, plus I know you like hearing it.” He kissed your ear, nipping at the shell. “I know you too well.”

You couldn't hold back the whimper, and Mingi inhaled sharply. “God, your voice is so pretty.” His lips brushed against yours, featherlight. Not kissing you yet. He was waiting for your permission. 

“You have to let me know I can (Name.) I don’t wanna fuck this up.” His brows furrowed, and his eyes screwed shut, his hands twitching against your body like he was restraining himself. “Please.”

“Fuck Mingi, I was trying to get you to be a man and just take it, but if you wanna be such a-” he gave you no time to finish, his pillowy lips pressing against yours, groaning like he just relieved the most unbearable pain he’d ever felt.

He kissed you slowly, taking his time with you. His hands were firm and roaming along your body, like he was trying to map out every inch of you. Your skin tingled and you carded your fingers through his hair, gripping the locks at the scalp and tugging him closer to you.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he rocked his hips into you, laughing when he felt you moan into him, the most delicious sounds he’s ever heard from you.

“Oh, you taste amazing.” His kisses started to become sloppy, sensual, and all-consuming, like he was trying to eat you alive. You moaned, the tension in your shoulders melting as you finally got what you had been craving. “Need you to ride my thigh, (Name) Fuck, please need it now.”

You didn’t hesitate, adjusting your legs to straddle his left thigh. You braced your hands on his chest, dipping your head to bury your nose into the crook of his neck. His hands held your hips tightly, guiding them.

“Nice and slow, grind for me.” And you obeyed. “Back and forth…” You rolled your hips experimentally, his thigh flexing the muscle right where your clothed clit dragged against it. The fabric of his shorts rode up, exposing the soft skin. The pleasure shot up your spine like a bullet, lolling your head back as you finally let yourself indulge in your best friend.

Mingi landed a playful smack on your ass, smiling when your hips stuttered and your moans hitched.

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that.” You glared at him in the darkness, sinking your teeth into his earlobe.

“If I’m not doing good enough for you then do something about it.” You bit back, rolling your hips particularly hard, purposefully letting your hand graze against the hard on in his shorts. His hips bucked against your touch, a low growl escaping him and causing your cunt to clench hard.

Mingi tugged at the waistband of your shorts. “Lift your hips, let me get these off of you.” You braced your hands on his shoulders and lifted yourself off of him, Mingi peeled your shorts down your thighs and off your legs, throwing them on the floor. His hand pressed against the center of your panties, eyes rolling when he felt the soaked spot.

“Oh, did I make you this wet, baby?” His fingers pulled your panties to the side, letting his fingers drag through your slick folds, slowly, deliberately, and teasingly. He pressed his fingertips against your clit like he was pushing a button, your back arching and your whines hitting his ear. You were so sensitive, you had never been this sensitive. Goes to show how years of teasing and built-up tension, when it finally snaps, just how hot you’d feel.

“How long have you wanted this? Tell me while I fuck you with my fingers.” He gave you a pointed look, your vision finally adjusting in the darkness. 

“Do you hear me?” He moaned against your skin, letting a finger slide inside of you, slow and languid. 

“Yes, Mingi, fuck, I hear you.” Your hands grasped his hair and tugged to ground yourself, the grumble he let out making you clench around his finger as he slid it deeper, the pad of his finger pressing against that spot deep inside of you that made your breathing halt.

“Good girl, talk to me.” Mingi swallows your moans with another kiss, slowly coaxing his finger inside, slipping a second one in once he’s worked you open a little.

“Love it when you touch me, when you tease me..” you cried into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip and rolling your hips into his hand.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, curling his fingers just right, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. “I always knew you loved it. You like to act all annoyed, but I know that every time I talk to you in that way, you like, you soak your panties for me.” He lifted your shirt over your breasts, immediately dipping his head and taking a nipple in his mouth, his groans vibrating through your body as his tongue flicked against them like he was eating candy.

“Isn’t that right, pretty girl? Like when I talk to you sweet?” It was so hard to think with Mingi’s fingers curling inside of you, your brain was foggy, and you couldn’t breathe. You could only manage a nod, tears prickling in your eyes as you felt the pressure in your tummy build as he took what he wanted from you.

He sank his teeth into the swell of your breast, tongue lolling out to soothe the bite after. “Good, arch that back for me.”

Years of dancing around each other. The lingering touches and the heated looks, all brushed off for the sake of being best friends, thrown out the window. You wouldn’t have any other way.

“Listen to my voice, and focus on yourself baby.” Mingi opted for slow and pressurized drags of his thick fingers, your voice caught in your throat as you felt your self start to topple over that edge, Mingi perfectly guiding you through it at just the right pace.

“That's it, fucking take it. God, I can’t wait to fuck you, been wanting to have you to myself for so long…” He pressed his lips against yours, growling down your throat. “Cum on my fingers, baby, please. Let me have it, fucking give it to me.”

He never pulled away from your lips, swallowing every noise you made as your body spasmed and a wave of pleasure so intense it knocked you against your skull, it made you breathless.

“Yes ma’am, fuck… I’m gonna snap you in half. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.” Mingi lets you ride it out on him, his fingers continuing to drag inside of you, your slick dripping down his wrist and onto the bed.

When you finally could breathe again, Mingi gave you no time, flipping you over, your back hitting the mattress. He stood up by the edge of the bed, ripping his tanktop off and discarding his pants. He nodded his head towards you, clicking his tongue.

“Off, all of it.” He groaned. “Wanna see all of you.” You ripped off your shirt and slid your panties off your legs, letting them fall on the floor as you watched Mingi strip in front of you in turn. He climbed on top of your body slotting between your legs, crashing his lips with yours, hands everywhere all over you. 

His cock, unbelievably hot and hard, dragged through your soaked folds. His hands ghosted down the inside of your arm, tickling slightly until his fingers flexed and wrapped around your wrist. He brought it to his mouth, kissing the pulse point of your wrist, dragging it up and locking both your wrists together with his grasp, tight and grounding above your head, restraining you.

Your body squirmed underneath him, he brought his head down, pressing a kiss right above your belly button. He locked eyes with you, his tongue falling from his mouth as he licked oh so slowly up your body, up your stomach between your breasts, his lips landing on the side of your neck without the hickey.

“Might as well give my girl another one right?” He blew a gust of air on the nape of your neck, continuing to slide his cock through your folds, moaning at the heat radiating from you. “Let everyone know that you’re off the market.”

He closed his lips over your throat, biting, licking and sucking sloppily. Your hips twitched against him as you tried to get him to slip inside, but Mingi wanted to take his time.

“Patience…” he pulled off your neck with a slick pop, kissing your collarbones and squeezing your wrist in warning, daring you to try and rush it again. “Let me have my fun with you baby.”

You know better. He loves to tease and play. But you could tell that he was holding himself back, you just needed to press his buttons right.

You twisted your hands in his grasp, ripping your hand free. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging his head down to yours, kissing him hard and deep. He groaned, and you could feel his fingers still holding your other wrist twitching.

“Mingi.” You moaned against his lips, your eyes boring into his, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. He looked unbelievable. “Fuck me right now, or so help me god.”

He bit his bottom lip, hips stuttering. “Fine.” His hands slid down to grab the backs of your thigh, pulling them up and lifting your legs a little higher. He sat up on his knees, glaring down at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. Fuck he was so big. Towering over your body on the bed, broad shoulders and bugling muscles. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths as you felt the tip of him press against your entrance.

“Don’t whine when it's too much.” Slowly, Mingi pressed himself in, the stretch burning perfectly. “Take it like a big girl, (Name.)” And you did.

Poised tall above you, the grip on your hips borderline bruising as he slid inside of you. Your eyes rolled and your thighs twitched as he took his time thrusting himself into you. Deep and heavy, finally claiming what was rightful to him.

“Yeah..” he groaned, feeling your walls pulse around him as he sat still snug in your cunt. “What a good fucking girl.” Then he pulled his hips back, slipping out of you until just the tip sat inside.

Mean, calculated, and rough, he slammed his hips against you, knocking the breath from your lungs, his tip dragging against that spot inside of you so perfectly. You let out a guttural groan, feeling so full of him. 

“Don’t move,” He bit, driving his cock in and out in and out. Fucking you so deep your vision was spotting. “Lie back and take what I give you, baby. I’ve got you.”

He kept his grip on your hips rough, pinning you down to the bed so you couldn’t move. Fucking you like you might run from him, like he couldn’t afford losing this night to you. He’d wreck you, ruin you. Use you in a way only lovers can use each other. You were so pretty under him, body twitching and face twisted in pleasure as he fucked you hard into the sheets. He grabbed your thigh and hiked your leg up and over his shoulder. The new angle was punishing, driving himself impossibly deeper into your cunt, you could feel every vein, and tears pricked at your eyes, and the sheer bruising pace he was setting against your g-spot. Relentless and unforgiving. Like he was making you suffer for having him wait so long to have you.

One hand left your hip, dragging up your body, caressing your throat, massaging your jaw. His fingers flexed around your neck, pressing the pads of his fingers against the sides. Your visions spotted again and your cunt clenched around him hard, a heavy breathy moan slipping past your lips.

“Oh my god… fuck Min, you’re so good.” You rolled your hips a few times to match his ruthless pace, fucking you better than you’ve been fucked before, and Mingi knew it. His ego was thriving and he had never been happier, so deep in your cunt. He rolled his hips, gyrating them a few times so you could really feel every inch of him.

“You’re so warm, sweetheart, fuck… always knew you’d be perfect. Always knew you’d come around… who’s my good girl…” The confidence in his voice was brain-numbing. He really had been plotting on you. The bastard.

He grabbed your other leg, pressing them together and wrapping his arms around them both, locking them in front of his torso. He slowed his pace, dragging his cock in and out so slow and so deep, really taking his time exploring you.

Your voice was raw and you felt like you could feel him in your ribcage. 

Snap. He bullied his dick into you, hard this time. Your back arched, and your legs twitched in his hold. “Too much!” You whined out. “I can’t Min-”

“Not too much.” he hissed, fucking you with no mercy, his hands squeezing your calves and running up and down your legs. “You can, and you fucking will.”

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you need it. C’mon baby. Let me know.” Your hands gripped the pillows under your head. Mingi had full control. Using your legs to hold him to you as he fucked you, like it hurt him not to. It was mind-numbing, and you didn’t want it to end. But that inevitable pressure was building in your lower stomach again.

“I want you…” you whined, voice shaking and raw. “I need you Mingi. Please.. Fuck don’t stop!”

His thrusts increased in strength, harsher and mean as he fucked you without abandon. “Are you mine, sweetheart? Say you’re mine…” he whined between thrusts, his hips sloppy and rough. His voice dropped to that sensual baritone whisper that made your pussy clench and your eyes roll. “Fuck me… please say you’re mine. Say you belong to me, baby…”

“I’m yours Mingi! I’ve always been yours…” you cry out. Mingi spread your legs and laid them back on the bed, dropping his torso down to press against yours and swallow your cries in a deep, soul crushing kiss.

His hand cupped your jaw and the other snaked down to draw close knit circles against your clit. “Fuck yes. You’re mine. This pussy’s mine. All mine.” Your breath staggered, and your eyes screwed shut, focusing on his touches and his mouth on yours. You were so fucking close.

He pressed his forehead against yours, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes half lidded as he focused on you. “Gonna cum again baby?”

You nod frantically, your noises quiet now, Mingi’s rough thrusts leaving no room for you to moan, just heavy breaths and staggered whimpers. It felt like heaven.

“I love making it good for you.” He whispered against your lips. “Love making you feel amazing. The number of times I laid in my bed fucking my fist, imagining this exact moment. You have no idea, baby, no fucking clue. Need you to cum hard for me baby, give it to me, I earned it. You earned it."

And you did. Your body convulsed and your mouth fell open against his. Your mind flashed white with a broken cry of his name as you came.

“Fuuuckk yeah baby.” Mingi groaned. He smiled, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Atta girl…So gorgeous when you cum. Could watch you do that all damn day.”

His hips stuttered as he began to lose the rhythm, his own release crawling up his spine. “Gonna fuck my cum into you honey.”  You were limp, overstimulated, drooling onto the sheets as he used your body, fogbrained and stupid.

“Just let me use you, almost there I promise.” He rolled his hips a few more times, his voice breaking between moans and huffs. He stilled, one final, deep thrust, spilling himself inside of you. He rocked into you, fucking his spent inside of you, your body shivering from the sensitivity.

“Holy s-shit…” Mingi caressed your hips as he slowly rolled into you, fucking you both through the aftershock.  

He stayed still for a moment, you both taking time to catch your breath and come back down to earth. Slowly, he pulled himself out of you, wincing from the pressure and the way you clenched as he moved. Slick, he slipped himself out, taking a deep breath as the cold air of the room enveloped him.

He shivered and laid on his stomach between your legs, his head between your thighs.

“Lemme clean this up…” His tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking up between your thighs, kissing around your swollen cunt, cleaning the stickiness between your legs. You sighed, your hands coming down to massage his scalp, nails scraping against the skin beneath his soft head of hair.

He stayed there for a while, kissing between your thighs and relaxing in each other’s presence. 

“Mingi I’m tired.” You croaked, voice strained from all the moaning. Mingi lifted himself from between your legs, moving up to press light kisses all over your face.

“I’d never trade you for the world.” Soft, loving and unprovoked. He just loved you that much. And now he finally had all of you, he’d never let you go.

You reciprocated with gentle kisses along his eyebrows, smiling against his flushed skin. “I hope we’ll be making the most out of the next few days I didn’t pay 600 per ticket for nothing. We’re putting this lovers package to use until its run dry.”

Mingi laughs, his hands caressing your waist and rubbing circles just below your breasts. “Way ahead of you.” He stood, taking your hand in his, having you sit up on the bed.

“Shower with me?” Mingi asked, squeezing your hand gently.

“Of course is that even a question?” You followed him to the bathroom, legs slightly shaky, but he stayed by your side keeping you upright. You glared at him considering he made you forget how to use your legs, he only shrugged smiling sheepishly.

After a warm, lathering shower, you both snuggled under the sheets, holding each ither close as the ship rocked and the waves whispered outside.

Lying behind you, Mingi moved your hair to the side, looking at the marks on your neck, smiling proudly to himself.

“I want you to wear that orange bathing suit I got you tomorrow. It’ll pair nice with these marks and I’m sure it’ll get a rise out of that asshat.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such an instigator Min.” You laughed, Mingi pressing a kiss to the marks.

“What?” he whispered in your ear. “Am I not allowed to be proud of my work?” 

“Go to sleep.” you mumbled, your eyes feeling heavy.

“I dont wanna.” he whined, pressing his nose to your hair inhaling deeply and taking in your scent. “Mmm, you smell so good...”

“Mingi.” you snapped.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled you closer, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes. Last thing he needed was pisisng you off and you hitting him.

“Goodnight (Name.).” he kissed your temple, 

You smiled to yourself; you really had him around your finger. You kissed his arm, letting sleep take over you. “Goodnight Min.” Silence, for a moment. Peace.

“Can’t wait to rub it in that asshole’s face tomorrow-”

“Mingi, I swear to God I will kill you.”

Thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one, hope you like it!

[quarterlifekitty]

Birthday presents:

Gaz plans out an entire day. From the moment you wake up to when you go to bed. Doing all of your favorite things, going to your favorite places, punctuated by snacks and meals at your favorite restaurants and cafes. And you get a teddy bear, that’s the rule. Every major gift occasion must come with a teddy bear.

Soap buys you something you had no idea you needed. Something you end up using every day. Something perfect. And on top of that, he makes you in insanely complex card. He’s one of those freaks who feel down the card making rabbit hole, so now he has a die cutter, embossing folders, about a million stamps and colors of ink, embossing powder in every color, etc.

Ghost becomes your personal chef for the day. Literally anything you want. As long as it doesn’t contain anything endangered, he will cook it. And he’ll take you with him to get all the ingredients— have a nice drive, buy you all your special snacks you can’t get at your usual store. He does require that if you want a stew or slow cooked meal, or something with marinade, you do have to notify him 24 hours in advance. He also gets you a children’s birthday card and crosses out the number on it with marker and writes your age. “Congratulations birthday girl, you’re 6 25!”

Price gets you a new charm for your charm bracelet, and a nice classy piece of jewelry. Something simple, beautiful, and personal. Engraved, of course. And a beautiful cake from the nicest bakery you know— even if it’s in another country (Nik owes him).

König gets you, first of all, an enormous assortment of chocolate. I think he takes a lot of pride in the quality of Austrian and German chocolate. Probably also commissions a custom medallion from his favored chocolatier. Besides that, he plans a getaway. Somewhere you can go and just not be bothered for a week or so. He often feels guilty about how much time you spend apart, so he takes every opportunity to try to make it up.

Nikolai just gives you a good old fashioned shopping spree. Anything for his gorgeous darling malýshka. And in any country you want as long as it has non-hostile airspace. You really can go shopping in Milan, Paris, and New York City in the same day if you want. That’s what you get for dating a pilot!

Rudy gets you the nicest version whatever it is that you use. If you like nail polish or lipstick, he’ll get you Charlotte Tillbury. If you like silver (in jewelry or houseware) he’ll get Tiffany. If you like pewter he’ll get Royal Selangor. It’s always something very nicely made and/or something that will last a very long time.

Nikto will get you something impossibly sentimental. Say, for example, that you lamented to him about your favorite childhood stuffed animal that had been lost when you’d had a small house fire, or when you’d cut ties with your family. You will wake up on your birthday to that exact make and model of stuffed animal, no longer how long ago you lost it, doesn’t matter if it’s no longer produced. He will perform minor miracles for you.

[unifybullseye]

Maruki's Reality: the Misogyny Within It

I've come to a realization through my replaying of third semester, and that is that Maruki's reality will inevitably, cater towards the men.

How so? Maruki in the third semster is slowly once again letting Mementos fuse with reality, and it will fully fuse on the day of Febuary 3rd. In Lavenza's words, "he still continues to actualize the world of the masses as a whole." In the meantime, before the full fusion of the worlds, he is catering to individuals desires, which creates contradictions. That is his main flaw in his work, the fact that his reality will contradict itself on itself over and over until it falls.

Mementos is a place where the desire and cognition of the general public takes form, as we know. It is built off the reality that we see as our true reality. The facts we hold as true, or a popular thought society shares, are true in Mementos.

Where am I going with this? Well, misogyny is inside every crevice of our society. It bleeds through every social construct. If misogyny is something so grand in our world, something we are aware is true, then Mementos contains that misogyny, holding the "Man above anyone else," as fact. Men's voices are the loudest in society, so they are the loudest in Mementos. Not to mention, the view of women that the general population of men has, from the worst man to the kindest man, will still outweigh women's voices. The kindest man is not exempt from misogyny.

So Maruki's reality once fused with Mementos, will still have misogyny, because it's catering to the desire of men. Maruki fulfills desire. Whether that desire is morally good or bad, it doesn't matter, as long as everyone is happy. And the concept of man, desires to be above women.

We see several instances of this in the game. And I want to preface first, that I am not saying men aren't also changed in this reality to appease someone else. The women's desires are also fulfilled. This is just a showing of the fact that the desire of men is more prevalent.

One of the most disturbing ones being in NPC dialogue between two "pick up artists," who suddenly are able to obtain women.

To clear some things up first:

The women they are speaking of cannot be fake people. Maruki has never placed any shadows or cognitions inside his reality. The only people he has added to the world are the deceased, who are accounted as fully alive.

It could be argued they were planted with fake memories of getting girls, however, we more so see the removal of memories instead of fake ones in people. Maruki changes cognition, but that cognition in turn changes reality. We are constantly hearing NPC's changing jobs, moving houses, abrupt career and hobby changes, abusive families becoming nice, friends and family getting back together, etc. People are constantly being ripped from the path they planned on, and being put onto another one. It is not far out there at all to say that it's extremely more likely the cognition of the women were changed to like the two men's romantic interest.

No, the women originally would not have wanted this. It is true Maruki's reality is everyone's supposed ideal reality, however, people are constantly being warped and changed to fix the contradictions of individual desire. The reality is actively changing the wants of people. If the women's cognitions weren't changed to like it, the men would've been more successful on their advances before.

This singular interaction reveals a lot to us. That people's wants can be changed. That shitty desires are still granted. Getting women to appease them makes them happy, so they are granted that.

It also implies a much darker, possible thing that very much wouldn't be a reach in this reality. If women's cognitions can easily be changed to want men's advances, then that means sex, too. Women's consent towards romance and sex is non-existent.

The little speech bubbles of the NPCs that pop up on screen use she/her way, way more than they use he/him. A lot of the time, the gender is not revealed through speech bubbles when they are talking about a person or themselves, but when it is, the ratio of women is far more than men.

Is this intentional? I couldn't say, but regardless of intention, it's there, canon within the story, so intention doesn't mean much.

This information weirdly has a common theme: of women suddenly getting closer to people they weren't before, or becoming 'nicer' to people they weren't before.

And the maid cafe exchange is interesting, because its implied the girl suddenly started working there when she did not originally, nor does it seem that she would have wanted to work there originally. Yet, she describes it as the best job she's ever had. Please correct me if I am wrong, since I am not completely well-versed on the Japanese culture of maid cafe's, however reading up on it, it's a business that is easily exploitative. They are often managed by men, and they often run with the underlying misogyny of women being submissive and "serving."

Point is- these all share the same moral of these girls becoming "submissive" to whoever is speaking's desire. The general desire that men want women easy, and nice. It's disturbing.

Here's another interesting NPC interaction:

Now, this one's a little different, because it's obvious the man's cognition has been changed, and the woman is confused by it. We also cannot really tell if his cognition has been changed to appease her want of going to Tokyo. But if you want my interpretation, I don't think that is the case. If her desire was being fulfilled to make her truly happy, it would be strange for her to act weirded out and confused. When people's wants are fulfilled by the reality, they often don't question it, because why would they? They are in bliss. When we see NPCs question the world, it is often the person witnessing the person who has had their desire fulfilled who is questioning what the hell is happening. And the statement of "You like it over there," instead of "You like it over there, don't you?" makes me think this is the man's desire that he is deciding she wants too.

Another showing of women's consent being nonexistent, and their desires being favored towards the men, is the unused harem Valentine's day in Maruki's reality. You can watch it: here.

It is very unsettling and weird. No one acts like themselves. Every single one of them has had their cognitions changed to be okay with Joker cheating on them, instead of getting angry like they originally would. They aren't bothered by it at all, they don't even bat an eye towards it. The cognitions of what, ten women, changed to appease the singular man? Willingly letting themselves get disrespected? The fact that they are pushing to give joker more chocolate after he already said he was full is unnerving. The desperation to make him happy, to appease what he wants, constantly being like "Is that good? Is that enough? Do you want more? I can give you more."

I've been told that P4's harem ending "punishes" the player for it, so I really have no doubt this was supposed to be in the same realm. The purposeful unease that all the girls have zero voice at all.

I also want to bring up Maruki and Rumi.

I'm putting a disclaimer on this that Maruki truly, genuinely loved Rumi. He is also not directly appeasing men's desires over women's.

But something I find worth of value here, is pointing out that he decides right in this very moment, that what he thinks is in her best interest. Rumi loved Maruki, and he is ripping away that happiness from her "for her own good." This follows the theme of people not having a choice, not having consent about what they want. Him deciding to stray away from her life was both selfless and selfish.

He holds Rumi to this ideal. After all, she was the person that made him want to do all this, that he wanted to do all of this for her. But at the same time, he never truly told her what he was doing. Just that he's going "to make her happy, going to make it better." I think that if Rumi knew what Maruki wanted to do, she'd slap him to hell and back. Say to him that she can get through the hardship of the past, that she wants to get through it and love him. Maruki literally changed her as a person fundamentally, with her not having the memories that make her, her. He also sees her as his "Eve" if the statue of Rumi holding an apple in his "garden of eden" in his palace is anything to go by. An ideal of grand love, and grand selfishness to do what he wants.

There's also something to say about how maruki's first test of his actualization was a vulnerable teenage girl who just went through something traumatic. I mean, he outright says that she's not strong mentally.

Sumire never outright said "I want to be Kasumi" until Maruki pushed her in that direction with his questions. She said "I think things would've been better if I was Kasumi." That is when he started pushing the agenda that it's okay to want to be another person, and manipulating her.

If his client was a teenage boy, would he have done the same thing? Yes. So again, it is not direct misogyny from him, but a cycle that happens over and over again, nevertheless.

After all, he manipulated Ren so bad that Ren didn't even suspect that Akechi could've been a desire of his, despite the absurd situation, until he was told. His heart was weak, and he was just happy Akechi was there. I am bringing them up just to solidify that Maruki's fault is not directly favoring someone over the other, but that he didn't think like, literally anything through, leading to his reality unintentionally favoring people over the other and granting unmoral desire.

TLDR if Mementos holds misogyny as a truth and wishes are granted off of the desires in cognition than if a man and a woman's wishes contradict each other then it is likely that the man's desire will win out. And we have proof of this already happening in third sem, before the full fusion.

[crystalandparrot]

Kpop Demon Hunter x Chef! Reader

Part three << Part four << Next

When Rumi, Mira, and Zoey returned home, they were not greeted by a mountain of food.

(Y/n) wasn’t cruel, however, and made the girls a very nice dinner. But after throwing away most of the food that they didn’t eat last night, (Y/n) was less inclined to make them as much as she usually does.

Speaking of (Y/n), she was currently huddled on the couch, tucked into a corner, and furiously scribbling in her journal. Different meals and their ingredients were quickly shot onto the paper, like (Y/n) might forget them if she didn’t write it down fast enough.

Sweet and savory ideas from countries around the world were written. Pork Yakisoba, Gyoza, hamburgers, pancakes, cheesecake, eclairs, fettuccine, fufu, the possibilities were endless.

Years ago, while Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were all training, (Y/n) began taking cooking classes. She was taught about cuisine from around the globe, learning everything from basic doughs to advanced decoration. She knew how to cook meat, bake cakes, and modify recipes to accommodate vegan and gluten free lifestyles. (Y/n) learned over the years that when people enjoy what they eat, when their tastes are taken into account, they’ll be more full than if it wasn’t.

“(N/n)?”

That’s why (Y/n) was writing so much. She needed to come up with dishes that would make the Saja Boys full.

“(N/nnnn)?”

If the Saja Boys were full then that meant—

“(Y/n)!”

(Y/n)’s head whipped up to see six confused eyes all peering at her.

“Yeah?” (Y/n) asked, uncurling her limbs.

“Uh…you good?” Mira asked, coming to sit by (Y/n).

“Yeah, why?” (Y/n) shut her book and placed it on the ottoman in front of her.

“You’ve been writing since we got home,” Zoey jumped over the back of the couch to land next to Mira, “and we’ve said your names like a bazillion times.”

Rumi walked around the couch to crouch in front of (Y/n), “You sure you’re okay? No pain today, right?” Rumi lifted (Y/n)’s hand and inspected it.

(Y/n) giggled and held Rumi’s hand, “Even if there were, I wouldn’t have a scratch.”

“I’m a little surprised you haven’t felt anything since that night,” Mira thought out loud.

“I’m not! We saw gold! Gwi-Ma is probably too scared to try anything!” Zoey cheered.

“I doubt it. Now would be the time that Gwi-Ma tried to throw everything at us. We need to be on our guard,” Rumi said seriously, “(Y/n) you let us know the second you feel something, even if it’s nothing or you think we’re too busy, you call us, okay?” Rumi took this very seriously. (Y/n) had been known to feel demons before they popped up, leading to a lot of close calls for the girls, so Rumi made sure to use it as often as possible. She wouldn’t let her help kill demons of course, given that (Y/n) couldn’t see them unless they revealed themselves.

(Y/n) was dependable. She was always there for Rumi—for all of them. Even though she had no weapon, she was a Hunter in her own way. (Y/n) kept the girls together, and they knew that. They relied on her to be there when they left in the morning to when they got home late at night. She needed to be there for them.

“I will, I promise,” (Y/n) placed her other hand over their already held hands.

Rumi sighed in relief and fully sat down on the rug. She released (Y/n)’s hands and then rested her head on the girl’s thighs. When she ran her fingers through Rumi’s hair, Rumi had to silence a groan from escaping her lips.

“Long day?” (Y/n) giggled.

“Interviews and rehearsals. Bobby managed to push our concert to tomorrow,” Mira hoarsely said.

Zoey gasped, “What if we can turn the Honmoon gold before the Idol awards?!”

Mira and Rumi smirked, “That’s the plan, Z,” Mira said.

“So it’s tomorrow, for sure?” (Y/n) asked.

“Hopefully,” Mira started, shrugging her shoulders.

“It will be, it has to be…” Rumi said ominously.

The three girls blinked owlishly at Rumi.

“Ooookay,” Zoey started, “so, (Y/n) what are your plans for the next two weeks?” She turned to (Y/n).

“Oh-I—“

Mira interrupted, “Cooking, obviously, Zoey.”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“I mean besides that!” Zoey interrupted, “Are you gonna paint, write—“

“Sing?” Mira added, only to receive a slap on the shoulder from Rumi.

“She doesn’t sing, remember?” Rumi whispered loudly.

“Actually—“

“Right, sorry (Y/n)—“ Mira apologized.

“Yeah, don’t be rude, Mira!” Zoey scolded.

“Would you—“

“I wasn’t being rude—“

This time Mira was interrupted by (Y/n), “I got a new job!”

Silence

“You what?” Rumi was the first to break it.

“I got a new job—I’ll still be here for breakfast and dinner! You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’m only full time for the next two weeks—while you guys are busy with the awards! You’ll be preparing for the Idol Awards and you’ll be away a lot so I figured—“

“You’d find another set of mouths to feed?” Mira asked bitterly.

“You guys aren’t around enough to even feed,” (Y/n) sighed, “I miss cooking for you guys. I blocked off two weeks just to hang out with you guys, and you won’t be here. I don’t want to just sit here and look pretty,” (Y/n) explained.

“I’m sorry that we aren’t around enough to keep you entertained, (Y/n)—we’re kind of trying to save the world!” Mira shouted.

“I’m not asking for entertainment, I just—“ (Y/n) looked around at the melancholy group, and gave up, “I need some air.” (Y/n) stood and quickly walked to the elevator, grabbing her wallet and phone just in case.

“(Y/n)…” Zoey called after the girl weakly, but the elevator doors still closed shut.

Mira sighed and put her face in her hands, “Me and my big mouth.”

“What was that?” Rumi asked.

“I-I don’t know…I guess I just got jealous…” Mira hugged her knees to her chest.

“Of (Y/n)?” Zoey asked.

“Of whoever’s hiring her. I wish we could see her more, but the Honmoon is important—“

“(Y/n) understands that—more than anyone. You know that.” Rumi put her hand on Mira’s shoulder.

Mira nodded, “I’ll apologize when she comes home…” she thought for a minute, “…do you think she’ll text us if she feels something?”

“Absolutely!”

“100%!”

“I really should not have worn pajamas outside at eleven at night,” (Y/n) shivered, hugging herself for warmth. As if on cue, a gust of wind harshly blew into (Y/n)’s face. The sharp wind almost distracted (Y/n) from the pain on her hand…

(Y/n) continued walking, unaware of the five sets of eyes following, not only her every move, but of the movement coming from the figure behind her.

A water demon had crawled from the puddle of a nearby dripping drainpipe and had been following (Y/n) since she turned the corner. As the girl readied to turn another corner, the demon crawled quickly, trying to get to its prey before it escaped.

The five figures raced forward to intervene—

SHING!

With a metallic slice, the demon was killed. Quick, effortless.

(Y/n) continued to walk ahead, wiping off her Damascus knife and hiding it back in the sheath on the side of her hip.

The five sets of eyes watched, intrigued.

“That’s interesting.” Jinu smirked.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented, liked, and reblogged!! This chapter is a little short, so I might post a little earlier for the next chapter. I’m sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist, please comment and I’ll add you.

I also have a bit of a request…without spoiling anything, does anyone know a good Kpop song that sounds like Your Idol? I need a few songs for much later chapters and I have a few right now, but nothing feels exactly right, you know?

I’m also looking for someone that I can bounce ideas off of, that doesn’t mind spoilers to this book. If you’re interested, please comment and I’ll PM you. It is first come first serve, however, I can’t be telling all of you spoilers. If you want to, I’ll send you chapters still in progress, drafts, and future chapter ideas. This is mainly for me because PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS I’M LOSING MY MIND WITH IDEAS.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Until next time :)

Taglist is still open!!: @ashleygryffindor @alastor-simp @whimsiecat @nev-valkyriesdottir @kashasenpai @yuurisfavblog @dancingpotatolol @vipxl @introvertathome @luv1ayala @galaxygurlll @insideoutjulie @tyresedidujsfart @katzline @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sidewalkenforcer @maroonanddelulu @eyes-ofhell @maryloudiaries @jennypenny-19 @raineandcl0uds @bubbabobabubbles @redkitsu03 @creativecupcake @sirens-and-moonflowers @tumblblob @asakiyu @mouchie @meowsertrix @nightlark100 @snowy-violet @t-wylia @littlemissfix-itfic @call-me-prodigy @bunniotomia @the-ultimate-supreme-gremlin @desiree-lee @a-cozy-little-home @mybradontfit @waltermis

[simmir99]

The Coastal Office - A Wedding Planning Agency, Sims Dump Collaboration and a Suprise Announcement!

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Lot Size: 20x20 CC Size: 0.75 GB (only 0.5 GB if you have Harrie's Coastal Collection) Packs Used: Get to Work, Get Together, My Wedding Stories, Horse Ranch (I think for some CC compatibility), and Dine Out. *Used but non-essential High School EP, Discover University, Home Chef Hustle, Romantic Garden, and Vampire GP (runner rug only).

HUGE THANK YOU to the amazing CC creators Babygyal123, ATS4, Harrie, FelixAndre, Sooky, TaurusDesign, Pierisim, and Many others! 🙏🏼

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✨Traci Child, Partner and Myla Davenport, Associate, both created by LumiiSimss, Download HERE ✨Isis Delaney, Associate, created by @jeanna-simplysimmer, Download HERE 💜Special shout out to my girls! They are amazing content creators, their TikTok is 🔥and I highly recommend you check them out. Thank you for the collaboration, love ya 😘

✨Surprise Announcement To celebrate 3,000 Patreon Members I am hosting a surprise giveaway for members! Please head to my Patreon for all the details!! 📸 I am now on Instagram, so please give me a follow as I would love to see your sims content too! My new IG can be found HERE

[eremikayearner]

isn’t he dreamy ‹𝟹 itoshi rin

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the cold, unsettling, and intimidating itoshi rin is the boyfriend straight from your dreams. for others, it’s hard to believe rin is even capable of love. but they don’t know him, not like you do.

ׂ╰┈➤ just take this as a million headcanons and reasons why i love rin all rolled into one :3

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ .𖥔 ݁ “isn’t he dreamy?” your voice sounded almost far away, lost in your own thoughts as you gazed at your boyfriend itoshi rin.

rin’s rival and your friend, isagi yoichi looked at you with wide surprised eyes. you looked over at rin with the softest of smiles and tenderest of eyes, propping your chin up on your palm — and there rin was, nodding along and listening to anri’s words.

“rin? itoshi rin?” isagi spluttered out.

he understood that you were dating the bastard, but come on. to some extent, even you had to understand rin wasn’t exactly the perfect shoujo dream boyfriend.

isagi wasn’t even sure the bastard could love.

you lifted your chin off your palm and gave isagi the nastiest side eye in the world. isagi nearly clutched his heart at the look in your eyes. “yes, itoshi rin.”

your split second of disgust morphed back into your far away adoring look as your attention set on rin once more.

how could isagi ask such a stupid question like that?

how could your quiet, sweet, and thoughtful rin be anything but dreamy?

to other's, rin's beauty must have been what you were after. what more could you want from the cold, unnerving, and intimidating itoshi rin? what more could a monster of a boy like that offer? at least that's what others thought.

rin captured the beauty of angels, a face so pretty and sharp like the most delicate of daggers. long beautiful lashes that framed teal eyes so intense they could silence the world around you. soft lips seamed with dark pink nips and bites from his teeth. and of course, rin was an athlete, so what more could a girl want when her boyfriend was corded with muscle?

while you acknowledged and appreciated rin's beauty, it could never be the sole reason for why he was so dreamy. no, that would diminish all the beautiful things that made rin rin.

rin was dreamy for the way he treated you.

rin who kisses you so softly every morning before leaving for practice. rin who holds your hair back from your face and rubs your back soothingly after drinking too much. rin who leaves practice early and makes tea and soup to take care of you when you're sick. rin who places his card down immediately before you can even think to pull yours out. rin who clears his schedule and organizes his week in advance to make time for you. rin who tries his best to plan and surprise you with dates he hopes you'll like. rin who attempts to learn to cook and bake with you because he insists it's a life skill you both should know for the future. rin who defends your name whenever he can (even if he gets himself into trouble for it). rin who keeps you private but never a secret. rin who makes sure you eat three meals a day. rin who facetimes and texts you as much as he possibly can when he's overseas. rin who bought you a heating pad, orders all your favourite food and makes sure you get your proper nutrients when you're on your period. rin who waits for you to fall asleep first before he can even think of closing his eyes. rin who accepts your interests no matter how strange or mundane they might be. rin who encourages your studies (and always reminds you that he will always provide for you). rin who listens to you no matter what. rin who tries to control his emotions and his tongue when he tries to communicate. rin who holds you and whispers sweet things in your ear, trying his very best to make you feel better if you feel insecure. rin who always says 'i love you' before you went to sleep.

rin was dreamy for the way he was with you.

rin who falls asleep in your arms like a sweet little baby. rin who holds you in his embrace and lulls you to sleep with the sound of his voice and his tender touch. rin who blushes when you call him handsome, pretty or beautiful. rin who gets flustered when you call him sweet pet names. rin who likes wearing matching rings with you so he can feel the imprint of your name on his finger -- and know the imprint of his on yours. rin who truly laughs at your jokes and humour. rin who's actually very talkative and will find himself talking to you for hours without even realizing it. rin who calls you little insults as if they were the most romantic nicknames in the world. rin who uses you as his weight when he works out. rin who carries you around all the time, whether on his shoulders, on his back, or in your arms. rin who loves watching horror movies with your so he can feel you jump and cling to him. rin who hugs you so tightly and buries his face into the crook of your neck after an argument. rin who touched you like you were his goddess. rin who whispers sweet nothings against your skin when it’s you two alone. rin who’s attentive to your needs. rin who includes you and writes you into his plans for the future. rin who listens to every word you say and tries his best to understand, even if he's not the best with emotions. rin who remembers everything about you, the little things and the things that not even you remember. rin who softens with vulnerability and finally allows you to help him bear the weight of his emotions with him.

rin was dreamy for the little things he did.

rin who bites his lip when he's deep in thought. rin who hums when he's in a good mood. rin who swears a lot when he's nervous. rin who counts every freckle and mole on your body when he's cuddling with you. rin who grumbles 'lukewarm' before dropping two dollars into your lukewarm jar. rin who cracks his knuckles in between his work out sets. rin who watches you when you aren't looking out of habit from when he'd been too afraid to confess or acknowledge his feelings for you. rin who checks his lock screen of you right before he goes out onto the field. rin who twists the ring on his finger jealousy when you're talking to one of his overly friendly teammates. rin who clenches his jaw when he gets angry. rin who licks at the blood on his lip whenever he gets injured on the field. rin who pokes his tongue out when he's trying to make his handwriting neat. rin who taps his foot along to the beat of the music he plays in his headphones. rin who twirls his bangs around his finger when he's frustrated with you but doesn't want to tell you why. rin who tightens his arm on you whenever sae's around. rin who slips the words "married" and "wife" accidentally and apologizes immediately out of embarrassment.

rin was dreamy for who he was.

rin who's loyal and protective. rin who's thoughtful and observant. rin who's determined and ambitious. rin who's chaotic, impulsive and honest. rin who looks up to and mimics those he believes in. rin who picks up beliefs, habits and phrases from the people he loves. rin who's passionate, emotional and full of feeling. rin who loves hard enough to hurt himself. rin who loves deeply enough to lose himself. rin who has hopes, wishes and dreams.

rin made the mundane magical. that's what made him so dreamy.

isagi looked at you for a moment longer, noticing the way your eyes lit up suddenly. like any curious person would, he followed the line of your sight until it landed upon the man himself.

shit, maybe itoshi rin was dreamy after all.

itoshi rin who looked back at you with these soft loving teal eyes, the tenderest of smiles lifting his lips, but something was entirely different. it was his aura. when rin looked at you he glowed.

would you look at that?

the bastard could love.

[rosenclaws]

The Wolverine and His Bunny || Logan Howlett x Bunny Girl!Reader

summary: You and Logan have always butted heads and his constant, condescending reminders of your mutation don't help. It's not until your forced to train together and well, the tension is undeniable

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, rough sex, a variety of bunny themed nicknames (Bunny, thumper, carrots), creampie, manhandling, pain kink (Logan), doggy style, dirty talk, blow job, mirror sex, slight choking, degradation, praise, he plays with your bunny ears oops, enemies to lovers kinda? Logan's a dick at first, teasing, being pinned down.

Don't like it don't read it :)

Halloween Masterlist

wc: 3.7k

a/n: Okay look, I thought this was hot and so I wrote it. Anyways happy October first everyone! Hoping to add my degeneracy to the long list of fics to come. This also ended up being more. angsty than i mean it to be. I think I have an angst problem oops

You hated him so much. He was. He was just a massive dick for no reason and you hated people like that. You get that he was the all mighty Wolverine who was indestructible or whatever but if he could act like a normal person for once in his life that would be great.

He wasn't even the leader of the damn team and yet every one seemed to act like he walked on fucking water. It's not like he was the only one on the team either. He may tell everyone he's a loner and he doesn't need help but we're the X-Men. Not just Wolverine.

It's just not fair.

You had the perfect plan. Planned down to the very second and Logan had to go and fuck it all up. Maybe it was an honest mistake but you highly doubted it. He always had a problem with you. You didn't understand why. The moment you showed up to the mansion he was hostile. Calling you stupid, condescending nicknames because of your mutation while ignoring the part of it that made you super smart.

You were fuming when the team got back from the mission. You stormed right past everyone to get to Logan. They shoot you apologetic looks but you paid them no mind.

"Logan!"

"What's got your panties in a twist bunny?" He leans against the jet hangar door. A cigar already lit in his mouth.

"Don't call me that asshole!" You shove his chest but he doesn't move. Your nose twitching in anger as he just laughs.

"I had a plan Logan. A good plan. A perfect. Plan. So tell me why as soon as you had the chance to, you ruined it!" He scoffs and blows a puff of smoke in your face. Your ears flatten against your head as you wave the smoke away.

"We finished the mission didn't we?." He says with a smirk. If this were a cartoon you'd surely have steam coming out of your ears by now.

"God you're nothing but a slimy little weasel sometimes!" You push your finger into his chest. He pushes your hand away and bares his teeth like an animal.

"You have no idea what it's like to actually be on the field so why don't you tuck your little tail between your legs and run back to the lab."

"Logan! That's enough." Jean scolds him harshly as you turn around and storm out of the room.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes but you force them down. Fuck him, you were an important part of the team. Whether he liked it or not.

It's like he lived to torture you. Ever since the day you told him off he seemed to just. appear. Constantly. Wherever you were he was there too. In the kitchen? He strolls right in for a soda. In the training room? He's already there. All sweaty and grunting and gross. You're outside near the water fountain, guess who strolls right on up. It was like he was stalking you or something.

Your ears perk up as you hear footsteps approaching your classroom. You taught most of the high level classes, the advanced ones for students who wished for more academic classes. So their tests were more complex to grade which is why you were still here so late into the night. Your nose twitches as a familiar scent fills your nose. Without even looking you let out a long sigh.

"What do you want weasel?"

"Now that's not very nice of you." Logan says with a smirk as he sits in the chair across from your desk. He puts his feet up on your desk. Right on top of the stack of papers.

"Can't you go bother someone else? Please. Like anyone else." He grins and you roll your eyes.

"But I just love your company." His voice is dripping with playful sarcasm.

"You're going to work yourself to death carrots. It's not good for you." The truth is he came to try and apologize for the other day but he just hasn’t found the right time. Okay well there’s been good times but he was never able to get the words out. So here he is trying his best.

He stands up and leans over your desk. You have to admit he's certainly an overwhelming presence. His face is inches away from yours, eyes staring into your soul with a wolfish grin on his face. He picks the pen out of your hand and throws it over his shoulder.

"Why not take the stick out of your ass and have a little fun?" Wow, for a second there you almost thought he cared.

"You know what Logan, just leave me alone."

"You know I'm trying to be nice here and all I'm catching is attitude." He growls. You slam your hands on the desk and stand up. Getting close to his face as your ears flatten. "

Nice? You think you're being nice?" You laugh in his face and he pushes back. Papers fly everywhere.

"Fine, work yourself to death I don't fucking care." He storms out of your room and slams your door loudly.

"Asshole!" You yell back. You turn back to see the mess of papers and sigh. Great, now your night got even longer. Logan mutters angrily as he stalks through the halls. So much for trying.

It's been at least a couple weeks since that night with Logan and thankfully he's finally decided to leave you alone. You barely saw him and in a weird way, you kind of missed him. Kind of. Barely. In fact you really enjoyed the peace. Your ears definitely didn't perk up when you heard Logan's voice on the other side of Professor Xavier's office. You push through the door and find Logan looking very pissed off.

"You wanted to see me?" You glance over at Logan who was fuming silently.

"Yes, I think it's time you join the team. On the field." You widen your eyes in surprise. You never considered yourself to be a field agent. Your mutation wasn't exactly built for combat. You were speedy but that's about it. Strategy and smarts were much more your speed.

"I think bringing you out on the field would be an immense help to your battle tactics. As Logan so kindly put it, being on the field is different from watching on the outside." You flash back to the harsh words Logan had said to you a while ago.

Logically it would be helpful for you to observe what missions were like first hand but you don't think you needed to be there. Still to get yourself a suit and be part of the team sounded nice too.

"And since it was his idea, Logan will be your instructor."

"What?!"

"Absolutely not." Charles gives you both a look, one that said to quiet down and you both reluctantly listen.

"I am not a fool,  the two of you need to learn to work together. My decision is final." His tone leaves no room for argument and the two of you leave with scowls on your face.

"Alright thumper, here’s how it’s going to go. Tomorrow. 7am in the training room. Think you can handle it?” He places his hand near your head. You roll your eyes and duck under his hand.

“Yeah yeah, see you then Weasel.”

It feels like this was meant to be a punishment more than an assignment. You get that you and Logan haven’t. exactly gotten along but to stick you together like this? That’s just mean. You showed up right at 7am the next morning dressed in workout clothes. Logan is already there dressed in his little gray sweatshirt, white tank top and sweatpants.

“So you didn’t run away? Good bunny.” He smirks as your face scrunches up in anger.

“Fuck off.” You’re already dreading this. If you could just survive an hour then you could never deal with him again.

"Okay, show me what you got." He stands in the center of the mat. Arms at his side with an expectant look on his face.

"What?"

"I heal bunny, so give me all you got. I need to see what I'm working with here." You take a deep breath and launch an attack.

You weren't helpless by any means but you weren’t on the same level as Logan, even you could admit that. He barely flinched as you darted around the room. Striking him in a few places but he just stood there. It was starting to piss you off. You get that you weren’t the fiercest but he could at least try and fucking help instead of wearing you out like this. You look around the room and see wooden poles used for combat training. He never said you had to just use your hands. You dart across the room and grab one, swinging it hard against his back. To your surprise it completely breaks. Shattering on impact. He grabs the broken half that’s left in your hands and pulls it out of them.

“That’s cheating,”

“No it’s not. I was just using my resources.” He laughs and grabs your wrist. He slowly backs you up until you hit the wall.

“Oh yeah? What you’re gonna find a really big stick out in the field?” He mocks.

“This is useless.” He lets go and walks away from you.

You feel anger bubbling up in your chest. You don’t belong. You’re useless. What good are you to the X-Men? You are sick and tired of hearing shit like this all the fucking time and Logan was the worst about it. You launch yourself at him. Running as fast as you can and jumping on his back. It blindsides him, he tumbles to the ground. He grunts as you start to hit his back hard.

“What is your fucking problem!” He pushes you off and you wince as you hit the mat. You scramble away before he can get up and jump back onto him. Legs straddling his waist as you push his shoulders.

“Why do you hate me so much?! What did I do to you?!” You take a swing and hit him square in the jaw. He looks surprised but shakes it off easily. He doesn’t fight back, more in shock than angry at this point.

“I get that I don’t have metal claws and I can’t move stuff with my mind but I’m part of the team too!” You swing your fist again but he catches it this time. He grabs your other one and pushes you to the ground roughly.

“Fuck off!” You hiss as he crawls on top of you. He’s heavier than a fucking boulder as he practically pins you to the ground.

“No you shut up and fucking listen.” He growls. He still has your hands pinned to the floor. An almost animalistic look on his face.

“You are so infuriating, everything about you drives me fucking crazy. So pretty, so smart, so easy to rile up.” He purrs. Your body feels like it’s on fire. What the hell is he even talking about?

“I say things without thinking sometimes but you, you make it so hard. Always running your mouth.” You squirm under him, trying to get free.

Then. He moans. He fucking moans.

You stop moving and stare up at him in surprise. Then you feel something hard against your stomach. Oh. He’s hard.

“No fucking way.” You say with a smirk. He may be on top of you but right now it feels like you have all the power here.

“Don’t tell me you were an absolute dick because you liked me?” He doesn’t deny it. Instead pressing you harder into the mat.

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t handle your feelings so you decided to tease me like a fucking schoolboy.” You laugh and try and move your arms but he doesn’t budge.

“You know what I think, I think you need to lose the attitude carrots, I think a nice good fuck would do you good.” You scoff at his words.

“And you think you’re the one to do that? You couldn’t make a girl cum if your life depended on it, Weasel.”

“Is that a challenge bunny? Come on, say it.” He’s hot and horny but he’s giving you a way out.

If you tell him to fuck off he’ll leave and you both can forget about it, but if you don’t. If you say you want this. Well he’ll finally shut you up like he’s been dreaming about. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. He’s breathing heavy like an animal and you’re studying his every move. Was this a bad idea? Probably. But you couldn’t deny that Logan was hot and right now all you wanted was to suck him off until he was milked dry. Shit.

“You can try, but I bet you won’t even last a minute.” He practically pounces on you. His face is buried in your neck as his hips grind against yours. You gasp as he bites your neck harshly. Eyes fluttering shut as he kisses it better.

“Dreamed of this, my bunny all wet and needy for me.” He nibbles up to your ears. Practically purring at how soft they feel.

“Not your bunny yet.” You bite back. He lets go of your wrists and sits up on his knees. He rips open your bra without the least bit of resistance. Mouth drooling as he stares at your tits.

“Fuck me.” He mutters as he harshly gropes your chest.

His thumb flicks over your nipple and you let out a squeak of pleasure. The last thing you wanted was for him to get an ego but fuck the way his hands feel on you is just so good. They’re rough and calloused and he is relentless in his movements. You almost whine when he stops playing with them, already missing his touch. He sheds his tank top, leaving him in all his muscled glory.

“Like what you see?” He asks cockily as he takes his pants off too.

“You fucking wish.” You mutter unconvincingly. You take your nails and rake them down his chest making him moan.

“You like a little pain don’t you.” You tease, digging your nails into his skin harder.

“Maybe I do.” You yelp as he shreds your pants and underwear to shreds.

“Those were fucking expensive asshole-Fuck!” You gasp as he buries his face into your cunt. His hands locked on your thighs, moving isn’t an option as he practically inhales your cunt.

“Smells so sweet, can always smell you bunny but up close is just. So much better.” You feel yourself start to melt under his rough hold. He’s absolutely overwhelming.

“Maybe later I’ll finally get a taste but right now I think I need to put your mouth to better use.” He pulls you up onto your knees. Stroking his cock as he pushes you down. Shit he’s big but you don’t even react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on bunny, open up. Be a good girl for me.” Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to be in charge here. You smirk and take him as far down as you can.

“Fuck!” He hisses, not prepared for you to do that.

“Fuck slow down.” There's a hint of desperation in his voice and you feel a sense of pride. You pull back and spit on his cock. Using your hand you coat it, looking him right in the eyes as you roughly move your hand along his cock.

“I think you need a lesson too,” His eyes roll to the back of his head as you take as much of him as you can.

Choking as the tip hits the back of your throat. You are unrelenting, eating up every little desperate sound that’s coming from his lips. Not so tough now are you Logan you think as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He’s so damn close and its driving him wild. You feel a heavy hand bunch your ears and pull you off.

“As much as I want to come down your throat and watch you swallow it all…” He wipes some drool off your face as talks.

“I need to be inside that cunt.” Then he grabs your face and kisses you, actually kisses you. You’re startled at first but melt into it. His lips are rough and he smells so much like tobacco and whiskey but fuck its intoxicating. He’s big, rough, and so fucking hot.

“You’re soaking wet bunny.” He taunts as he cups your cunt with his hands.

“I bet you’re just aching to be filled. Don’t worry, I can help.” He manhandles you with his crazy strength till you're on your knees facing the mirrors.

“See, you’re just shaking with anticipation.” He grins wickedly as he cups your face and forces you to look into the mirror.

He’s not wrong. He’s big and you can feel his cock nudging its way into your cunt. You’re panting, hair a mess. His hand looks so good around your neck and he looks even more delicious. Your vision blurs as he slides himself inside of you. The air is knocked out of your lungs as you feel nothing but Logan. Head up in the fucking clouds as he gives you a moment to relax, whispering sweet words to help ground you back to earth.

“Is your dick inside of me the only way to get you to be nice?” You ask breathlessly. Logan grunts, not happy that you’re still able to speak beyond moaning his name.

“I can be nice, I can be real nice.” He slides out of you at a slow, agonizing pace before thrusting harshly back in. You claw at the mat as he sets a brutal pace. In and out. Slow and hard. Pulling desperate sounds from the depths of your throat.

“Logan please!” You beg, you need him so bad. Need to feel him, need him to rearrange your fucking guts. “

So polite, now that’s more like it.” He leans in and kisses your neck roughly.

Claiming you as his own in his own animalistic way. He would tease you, continue to pull you apart on his cock for hours if he could. But the truth is he needed you. A deep carnal desire to render you completely fucked out. He leans back, pulling your back to his chest. He guides your hands to his arm.

“Hold on bunny.” Your nails sink deep into his skin, drawing blood as he sets a brutal pace.

Pounding into you so hard you see stars. Fucking hell super human strength and stamina really is a gift. He coos in your ear when he notices you starting to slump in his arms. Your legs burned, he was reducing you to a puddle of nothing.

“You okay pretty? Feel too good doesn’t it.” You nod, words not forming in your brain anymore.

All you feel is pure bliss and Logan feels a surge of pride in being the one to do this. You catch his gaze in the mirror. His eyes filled with pure, raw lust. His face was twisted in focus, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open. His muscles were bulging with every move. You couldn’t stop yourself from look. Watching as he buried his cock into you.

“I know you’re close, it’s okay. I got you bunny.” One of his hands slips down between your legs. He draws tight, harsh circles on your clit making you cry. You’re squirming wildly, it feels too good. His fingers are too much but you don’t want him to stop.

“Shh, that’s it. Just relax.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you come hard.

Your legs can’t stop shaking. Logan tightens his grip on you, keeping you up right as he fucks into you hard. Chasing his own release, thrusting wildly and you fucking swear he whimpers as he stills his hips deep inside. Filling you up and then some. It’s a real shame when he pulls you, an empty feeling overtaking you. He loosens his grip and you almost face plant onto the mat.

“Logan..” You whine and he helps maneuver you to your back.

“Sorry carrots, didn’t mean to let you fall.”

“Don’t call me carrots.” You mumble, still completely exhausted.

“Okay, whatever you say, carrots.” You huff as Logan helps you stand up.

Your clothes are completely ruined but he somehow finds some extra sets of clothes in the closet. When did he even get up? Maybe you were still a little lost.

“Hey, you okay?” He cups your face gently. A slight look of worry in his face.

“Aw, you do care.” You tease. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of you.

“I always cared.”

“Had a real shit way of showing it.” You snort and he just smiles softly.

“Yeah. Guess I did.” To your embarrassment you still can’t exactly walk right. Luckily Logan is right by your side. You mentally prepare yourself to tell people you hurt your leg or something when they ask why you’re limping so bad.

“I still don’t know what I did to make you hate me.” You say quietly as you reach your dorm room. He sighs and gently plays with your ears. It tickles.

“I don’t hate you, I never did. I just. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can’t articulate just why he acted the way he did. He wants to, he really does but it just. Doesn’t come out. There's a long history of pain and loss and while you want to know why, an apology is certainly a start.

“Thank you,” He smiles softly, then realizes he’s probably overstayed his welcome. As if you two weren’t fucking in the training room less than 10 minutes ago.

“Do you want to stay?” He hesitates, unsure if this is truly what you want. If this line is ready to be crossed.

“You owe me for ruining my clothes. Just one nap.” He relents, it’s easy when you’re looking at him like that.

“Okay bunny. Just one nap.” He shuts the door behind him, crawling into bed with you.

He feels a rumble in his chest as he sinks into your bed. You’re soft and it feels like he’s meant to be here. You fall asleep quick, body aching and practically screaming for you to sleep. Logan stays awake for a while, just okay with being here. Just one nap he tells himself. 

He’s lying. It’s never going to be just one nap.

[holyblonded]

sweet 16 | something blue

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: olga makes a big deal about a day you don’t even want to celebrate

notes: shout out frank ocean cause i was listening to white ferrari and it inspired me

You can’t remember a single birthday that felt like yours.

Well, except for your quinceañera, but that didn’t count. That day was a blur of discomfort and glitter, the kind of extravagance that felt too loud, too fake. Your parents had come back out of nowhere, like ghosts from a past you tried not to think about, throwing a massive party with people you didn’t know and music that wasn’t even your taste. They’d smiled and posed for photos, pocketed every envelope of birthday money, and then disappeared again, vanishing just as quickly as they came. That night, you stood in the middle of the dance floor, in heels that pinched and a dress that didn’t feel like you, surrounded by strangers and wondering why you didn’t feel happy.

After that, birthdays stopped meaning anything. They were just another day. Usually spent on the pitch, grinding. Because that was the only place that felt real to you.

But this year was different. This year, you were in Barcelona. And this year, you were with Olga.

Unfortunately for you, Olga loved birthdays. She didn’t just like them, she loved them. The kind of person who started planning months in advance, who believed every birthday was sacred, a blessing, a milestone meant to be celebrated to the fullest. And the fact that she’d missed your quince? That lit a fire under her.

Your sixteenth birthday was coming up fast, and Olga had decided it was her mission to make it unforgettable. Which, of course, you were very against.

“Olga, please,” you begged, following her into the kitchen where she was stirring something in a pot and scrolling through her iPad at the same time. “I don’t want a big thing. Just— just let me chill.”

“No,” she said flatly, not even looking up. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m serious! I don’t want a party.”

“And I’m serious,” she said, turning to face you with that stubborn glint in her eyes. “You’re getting one.”

You threw your head back and groaned. “I hate parties!”

“No you don’t,” she said, waving her spoon at you. “You hate weird parties. This one’s going to be amazing.”

“I don’t even know anyone here.”

“So? We’ll invite the girls from the team. Sydney, Vicky, Alexia’s friends—”

“I don’t want strangers at my party!”

“They’re not strangers. You see them more than anyone else.”

You huffed, trying another angle. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I already ordered your outfit.”

“My hair’s gonna get frizzy.”

“You have a whole drawer of products.”

“It’s too expensive.”

“I have the budget covered.”

You stared at her. “Are you seriously not gonna let me win one argument?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

Defeated, you slumped into a chair. “This is so unfair.”

“Life’s unfair, cumpleañera. Now, what kind of cake do you want?” (Birthday girl)

Eventually, you gave up. There was no stopping the force that was Olga on a mission. She went right back to planning, flipping through a binder of ideas like this was a wedding, not a sweet sixteen.

You wandered into the living room, dragging your feet, and dropped onto the couch with a dramatic flop. Alexia looked up from where she was lounging on the other end, casually flipping through a magazine. She arched a brow.

“She’s still on her party planner mode?” she asked.

“She won’t listen to me,” you muttered, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I just want a quiet day. Maybe some cake at home. That’s it.”

Alexia gave a little smile. “Olga doesn’t do ‘quiet.’ Not when it comes to people she loves.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “But it’s so much. She’s on the phone right now trying to rent out a rooftop venue.”

Alexia glanced toward the kitchen, where she could faintly hear Olga saying something about table arrangements and lighting setups.

“She means well,” Alexia said after a moment. “She just… does it all a little extra.”

You sighed and let your hands fall into your lap. “She’s doing more for this birthday than anyone ever has. I know I should be grateful. I am. It’s just, y’know, too much.”

Alexia nodded. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t feel overwhelming. But maybe… let her do this one. For her. For you.”

You were quiet for a long time, watching the ceiling like it might offer answers. Then you muttered, “Fine. But I’m not dancing.”

Alexia smirked. “We’ll see.”

The sun was just beginning to warm the training pitch, but you were already sweating. Passing drills. Touch drills. Finishing drills. A standard day at Barça Femení training, and you were trying to focus, really, but your head was somewhere else. Somewhere between dreading your sixteenth birthday and trying to figure out how to survive Olga’s nonstop planning spree.

You were paired with Sydney and Vicky today, the three of you jogging back to your station after a water break. Sydney nudged you with her elbow.

“You good?” she asked, squinting at you. “You’ve been sighing all morning.”

You kicked a loose piece of turf. “It’s nothing, just… my birthday’s coming up.”

Vicky blinked. “Wait, what? Your birthday?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sydney’s mouth dropped a little. “You didn’t say anything. When is it?”

“In a few days.”

“Dude!” Vicky said, half-offended. “We had no idea!”

You shrugged again, eyes on the grass. “I don’t really talk about it.”

“Why not?” Sydney asked gently.

You hesitated, then let out a long breath. “I don’t really do birthdays. Like, at all. They’re kinda… complicated.”

Both girls quieted, their attention sharpening like they knew this was important.

“Back home, it was just another day,” you said. “Usually I just went to a park, shot balls into a fence, got in a run. Kept it chill.”

“That actually sounds nice,” Vicky said softly.

“Yeah, it was. Simple. Peaceful.”

Sydney gave you a look, eyes kind. “So what’s going on now?”

You groaned. “Olga’s going all out. Like—party planner, venue, decorations. I told her no a million times but she’s not hearing me.”

“Have you told her why you don’t want it?”

“I’ve tried,” you muttered. “But try reasoning with Olga when she gets like this. She acts like birthdays are sacred.”

Vicky nodded. “Oh yeah, she gets that look in her eyes like she’s already imagined the whole thing. There’s no stopping her once she starts.”

“She’s got this binder, guys. A binder.”

Sydney and Vicky both broke into laughter. “Okay, okay,” Sydney said. “That’s intense.”

You managed a small smile, grateful they weren’t making fun or pushing. Just listening.

“Still,” Vicky said gently, “maybe she’d get it if you really opened up to her.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, though you didn’t sound convinced.

Before they could respond, a whistle blew, signaling the next switch in partners.

You barely had time to look up before Alexia was beside you, sliding an arm around your shoulders like it was decided. “Let’s go, pequeña.”

You shot a betrayed look at Vicky and Sydney, but they just gave you encouraging thumbs-ups. Traitors.

The two of you jogged to your new drill station, working on tight ball control and finishing. For the first few minutes, you stayed quiet, just focusing on the movements, the touches, the runs.

Then Alexia spoke. “So. Birthday stress?”

You kicked the ball a little too hard. “You heard?”

She gave you a look. Of course she heard. You hesitated, trying to stay vague. “It’s just… not really my thing.”

“Not your thing, or something else?”

You didn’t answer right away, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Vicky and Sydney watching. Vicky gave you a look—tell her. Sydney nodded like she agreed.

You sighed. “Look. I’ve never really celebrated a birthday, okay?”

Alexia paused. “Never?”

You shook your head. “The one time I did… my parents showed up out of nowhere. Threw this huge quince. I didn’t know half the people there. They made it a big thing, and then they took all the money I got, dipped again. Haven’t heard from them since.”

Alexia’s expression softened immediately.

“So after that,” you continued, voice lower, “I just… stuck to doing my own tradition. Shoot some balls, run some drills. I like that. It’s simple. Quiet.”

Alexia didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded slowly.

“I get that,” she said finally. “I do. But for Olga… she missed a lot of your life. She’s trying to make up for it. In the only way she knows how.”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I get it. But it’s overwhelming. All the noise, the people, the decorations. It doesn’t feel like me.”

The drills wrapped up shortly after, and the whistle blew for lunch. You were already plotting your escape route toward the locker rooms when Alexia slung her arm over your shoulder, gently stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re strong for telling me that. I’ll talk to Olga for you.”

Your head shot up. “Wait, really?”

She smirked, amused by how quickly your mood flipped. “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve got some influence.”

You beamed. “Thank you.”

Alexia rolled her eyes playfully. “Go on. Vicky and Sydney are probably already hoarding dessert.”

You jogged off toward your friends, already feeling lighter. Maybe this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all, not because of a big party, but because people finally saw you

The living room was calm and quiet for once, filled only with the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of Alexia’s spoon against her teacup. She sat curled up at one end of the couch, phone in hand, legs tucked beneath her, her face relaxed in a rare moment of stillness. Her eyes flicked now and then toward Olga, who sat beside her, laptop perched on her thighs, posture tense, brows knitted in fierce concentration as she scrolled through an online catalog of evening dresses.

“Do you think she’d like red?” Olga asked out of the blue, shifting her body slightly to angle the screen toward Alexia.

On the screen was an extravagant, designer gown. It shimmered with every scroll of the mouse— floor length, with a dramatic slit, glimmering stones across the bodice. It looked more like something meant for a gala or a film premiere than a sixteenth birthday party. Alexia blinked once, eyes scanning the price before flicking up to meet Olga’s face. She reached out and gently closed the laptop with a quiet click.

“Lex,” Olga frowned, confused and a little offended. “I wasn’t finished.”

“You need to be,” Alexia said, her tone soft but firm.

Olga sat back slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She doesn’t want this, Olga.”

Olga let out a small breath of disbelief, shaking her head. “Yes, she does. She just doesn’t know it yet. She acts like she doesn’t care, but that’s just her thing. She would’ve told me if she really didn’t want it.”

“She did tell you,” Alexia replied, steady and calm. “You just didn’t listen.”

That silenced Olga.

She looked at Alexia, her mouth parted like she was going to argue, but the older woman’s tone kept her still. Alexia sat forward slightly, setting her mug on the coffee table.

“She told me at training today. Me, Sydney, and Vicky. She said birthdays feel… hollow to her. Like they’ve never belonged to her, like they were never really about her.”

Olga’s brows pulled together as Alexia continued.

“She’s never had a real birthday. Not one she wanted. Her parents threw her a quince, yeah—but it wasn’t for her. They invited strangers, made a big show, took the birthday money and disappeared. She hasn’t heard from them since. That’s the memory that really stuck.”

Olga’s face began to shift, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes filled. “No…”

“She told me she’s spent every birthday on a football pitch. Just another day. Just training, grinding. Trying to be the best. And she was fine with that, Olga. It made her feel in control, like it was hers again.”

Olga wiped at her face quickly, as if the tears were a mistake. “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

“She did, cariño,” Alexia said gently, reaching over to rest a hand on her arm. “She tried. But you were so excited, already calling vendors, talking about decorations. She didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“I thought—” Olga’s voice cracked, and she shook her head as more tears slipped free. “I thought I was doing something good. I thought this would make up for everything she didn’t get. I just wanted her to feel… special.”

“She knows you wanted that,” Alexia reassured. “But this party doesn’t feel special to her. It feels overwhelming. Like a performance she doesn’t want to give.”

“I missed so much,” Olga whispered. “I lost contact with her for so long. If I had known, if I’d seen what was happening to her, I would’ve—”

“You’re here now,” Alexia said, voice firm but kind. “And you love her. But loving her means listening, too. Loving her means showing her that she doesn’t have to prove anything to deserve kindness.”

Olga sank into the couch, eyes glazed, heart heavy with guilt. “She’s just a kid. My baby sister. She shouldn’t have to explain why she doesn’t want a party. She shouldn’t feel like she owes anyone a smile just because it’s her birthday.”

“No,” Alexia agreed. “But that’s the world she grew up in. That’s what she learned. And now we have to unlearn it for her.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. Olga finally reached over and opened the laptop again, not to keep browsing, but to close every tab she had open. She shut the device slowly, let it rest on the coffee table, and pulled a blanket into her lap. Her hands were shaking just a little.

Across the city, you were sprawled on a grassy patch at random quiet park, surrounded by Sydney, Vicky, Ona, Jana, Patri, Pina, and Salma. You were laughing mid-story, eyes lit up for once, as you described a ridiculous training moment with exaggerated flair. You had no idea what was happening back home. You had no idea someone had finally heard you.

For the first time in years, you weren’t dreading your birthday. You were just being sixteen. And you were safe.

The front door slammed shut behind you as you kicked off your sneakers with the lazy force of someone who’d spent all day on their feet.

“I’m back!” you called, voice echoing through the apartment. “And I swear to God if someone finished the cereal—”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before you heard footsteps, fast ones, and suddenly Olga was there, arms wrapped tight around you like she thought you were about to disappear.

You froze. Like actually froze.

Your arms stayed at your sides, stiff and confused, your body tense. Olga didn’t say anything at first, just held you like she was trying to squeeze every ounce of guilt out of herself. And slowly, cautiously, your muscles relaxed. Your arms came up and curled around her, kind of awkward, kind of unsure. But they were there. You let her hold you.

“…Okay, what’s wrong?” you mumbled into her shoulder, voice wary. “Did someone die? Did I die? Are we in the afterlife?”

Olga gave a wet laugh that turned almost immediately into a sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were glossy and red-rimmed. “I’m so, so sorry. For not listening. For not hearing you. And for… for not being there sooner. For not saving you when you needed someone.”

You blinked. “Okay, uh… wow. Where’s this coming from?”

“I should’ve known what was happening,” she whispered. “I should’ve found you earlier.”

You frowned, a little overwhelmed, but you reached up and brushed a curl off your forehead. “Olga,” you said, voice quieter now, “you’re here now. That’s what matters. You did save me.”

That sentence just broke her. Like fully broke her.

Her face crumpled, and she let out a soft sob as she pulled you back into a hug, crying now for real. Not soft movie tears. Full-on weeping into your shoulder. Her body shook with it, and your eyes widened as you stood frozen in her arms.

“Uhhhh,” you said, patting her back like she was a malfunctioning printer. “Alexia?”

From the kitchen, Alexia let out a very unhelpful laugh, where she sat perched at the island with a glass of tea.

“Alexia, help me!” you pleaded, your voice somewhere between desperate and traumatized. “She’s leaking! What do I do?!”

Alexia set her tea down, still grinning. “You comfort her.”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“Just hold her,” Alexia said, smug. “Tell her it’s going to be okay.”

“I’m not a Care Bear, Lex! I don’t do emotions like this!”

Olga was still clinging to you, sniffling into your shirt, while you stared at Alexia like she’d just told you to perform surgery.

Alexia leaned forward, eyes dancing. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. The overly affectionate big sister who wants to hug the world, and the emotionally stunted gremlin who thinks feelings are contagious.”

“I do not—” you started, but then Olga let out another sob and your arms immediately tightened around her.

You sighed. “Okay, fine. Feelings aren’t contagious. But they’re definitely… wet. Why is crying so wet?”

“Because it’s healthy,” Alexia said, smug as ever.

You rolled your eyes and looked down at Olga, who was still in the thick of it. Her face buried in your hoodie now, her fingers gripping tight like she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go.

You softened a little. “I mean it,” you murmured, rubbing her back a little more naturally now. “You saved me, Mana. Maybe not then. But you did now. So don’t cry over something that’s already fixed, okay?” (Sister)

Olga pulled back just enough to see your face, her own streaked with tears, and nodded. Her lips wobbled into a smile. “Okay.”

You let out a breath. “Okay good. Because I don’t know what I’d do if you started snotting on my hoodie. This thing is vintage.”

Alexia burst out laughing almost spilling her tea.

Olga laughed through her tears, finally stepping back, and you caught her wiping her face with her sleeves, still kind of a mess but a little steadier.

Alexia raised her glass of tea. “To sisterhood. One hugs too much, the other panics at mild human contact.”

You flipped her off without even looking. But when Olga looped her pinky through yours a second later, you didn’t pull away.

You woke up before the sun even touched the skyline.

There was something about birthdays that made your chest feel heavy the moment you opened your eyes. Not because you were excited, not because it was special. Just… because it always felt like something was missing. And maybe that something used to be people. But now? You weren’t even sure anymore. It was like your body remembered something your heart didn’t know how to name.

So instead of waiting around for the feeling to settle into sadness, instead of letting your thoughts spiral the way they usually did on days like this, you got up. Quietly. Carefully. Slipped out from under the blanket. Pulled on your hoodie, tugged it low over your face. Tied your sneakers tight. And then you left, keys in your pocket, phone on silent, the world still asleep around you.

Barcelona’s streets were still half-dreaming. Everything was bathed in blue-gray light, the kind that made the buildings look softer, the roads smoother, like the city had taken a breath and held it. You liked it like that, when the world was slow, when nothing demanded anything from you, when you didn’t have to brace yourself.

You walked quietly, hands in your pockets, head down as your feet carried you to the place that always made you feel a little more grounded.

Your café. The one tucked into the corner of an old street, just out of the way enough to be quiet, just cozy enough to feel like it could belong to you and no one else. With the ivy that curled around the windows and the little mismatched chairs on the terrace. The one that reminded you of home, before things got bad. Or maybe it just reminded you of the idea of home. What it could’ve been.

You pushed the door open. The soft jingle of the bell above the door felt like it greeted you personally.

“Lavender hojicha latte,” you murmured to the barista.

They smiled at you, soft, familiar. “Azulita, right?”

You blinked. Word had gotten around.

You hesitated, then gave a faint smile. “Yeah.”

“I saw you play at the last game again

Atletico. Great job.”

Latte in hand, you made your way to the park just a few streets over. The one no one else ever seemed to use. The goalposts were rusted and crooked. The grass was patchy. But it was yours. You set your bag down, took out your ball, and started shooting.

There were no drills. No cones. No schedule. Just you, the ball, and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

It was instinct. Therapy. Religion.

You didn’t think about anything, just moved. Your touches were light. Your strikes were clean. Every shot hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud. And for a little while, there was nothing else in the world but the ball and the sky and the ache in your legs.

By the time you stopped, your hoodie was stuck to your back with sweat, and the sun was high overhead. You checked your phone for the first time all morning.

12:04 PM.

“Damn,” you muttered, more amused than anything.

You packed your stuff and walked home slowly, almost lazily, letting the wind cool you off. When you stepped into the apartment, it was quiet. Peaceful. Still.

You dropped your bag by the door, kicked your shoes off into a corner, peeled off your hoodie and tossed it onto a chair. Then you collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms flopping dramatically to the sides.

Just for a minute, you told yourself. That minute turned into a full nap.

You didn’t stir until you felt fingers brushing your hair back gently and someone whispering your name like they were scared to wake you.

“Azulita…” Olga’s voice.

You groaned sleepily but didn’t move. Then came a hand on your back, rubbing in slow, steady circles. Alexia. You didn’t even have to look to know.

You let out a soft breath. Your body relaxed into the touch before your mind even caught up. “Mmmph… what time is it?” you asked, voice raspy with sleep.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm, blinking against the soft light coming through the curtains. When your vision finally cleared, you stilled.

Olga and Alexia stood in front of you, side by side, both smiling, both holding a small cake between them.

“Happy birthday,” Alexia said, her voice warm.

You stared. The cake wasn’t big. It wasn’t extravagant. Chocolate frosting, a handful of rainbow sprinkles, homemade. One candle burning slowly in the middle.

But what undid you completely were the words piped in careful cursive across the top:

“Happy Birthday to my Little Blue.”

Your breath hitched. That name. Blue. It was the kind of nickname that only meant something when it came from her. From Olga. From the days before it all went sideways. When you were just a messy little kid clinging to her big sister’s arm, trusting her with everything. When she would whisper “my little Blue” into your hair as she braided it. When she was all you had, and then, she wasn’t.

You blinked fast, but the tears welled anyway. “This is…” you tried to say, voice cracking. “This is my first birthday cake.”

Olga stepped forward, her eyes soft. “Then it had to be the right one.”

You looked between them, at Alexia’s kind eyes and Olga’s trembling smile. Your chest felt tight in a different way now, not because something was missing. But because something was finally there.

Love. Safety. A home you never thought you’d have.

You looked down at the candle, flickering gently, and tried to breathe through the lump in your throat.

“Make a wish, Blue,” Olga whispered.

Your eyes stung. You closed them. And you didn’t even hesitate.

“I wish you never leave me,” you whispered, so soft only they could hear.

Then you blew out the candle. Silence fell over the room— gentle, sacred. Like even the air knew not to disturb it.

Olga was already crying again, the way she always did when her heart got too full. Alexia gently handed the cake off to set it down, then wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her, holding her like she always did.

And you just sat there, stunned. Small. Full of something you didn’t even have a name for.

This wasn’t some big party. There were no cameras, no balloons. No forced smiles. Just a cake. A nickname. A wish you meant with everything in you.

And for the first time in your life, your birthday didn’t feel like a bruise waiting to happen. It felt like a promise. Like a beginning. Like home.

[davinawritings]

Imagine Yandere Fae Finding Out You Are Just As Crazy And Obsessed As He Is

Warnings: Smut, Yandere Behavior, Manipulation, Love Potion

He became completely enamored with you when he first met you in the forest near your home. This sweet little human that he knew must be his. He would make you his wife and bind your life with his own. He visited you day after day, charming you with his words and dazzling you with his smile. Though no matter how hard he tried, you were careful not to accept his advances.

You declined any gifts he offered, from hand-picked flowers to shiny jewels. Initially, he thought it was cute, but his patience wore out quickly. He didn’t want to kidnap you and bring you to his home, but he was becoming closer and closer to doing so. Desperate to finally make you his, he devised a different plan, tracking down a witch and having her brew a love potion. He knew it was wicked, but he couldn’t wait for you to admit your love for him anymore. He needed to have you, and he needed you now.

When he offered you the drink, you refused as usual. He explained that it was a gift for you with no expectations in return, thus avoiding the usual repercussions of accepting a gift from a fae. With a beaming smile, you accepted the drink but said you would have it with dinner. He had gone to his home that night, feeling defeated, knowing you would probably discard the gift, and he would be back at square one. Kidnapping seemed to be the next option. You would be his one way or another.

Today is the day he plans to finally take you home. To his surprise, as he walked up to your small house, you ran partway to meet him, jumping into his arms and kissing him passionately. It had taken a few seconds for his mind to stop reeling, but as soon as it did, he was groaning and kissing you back fiercely. He was elated to finally have you in his arms and quickly took you to his home. He had already prepared everything, thinking he was taking you forcefully, but happy to have you come willingly, or at least as willingly as you could under the influence of a love potion.

The fae wasted no time in taking you to bed, his cock aching to be inside you for weeks already. He gave you as much pleasure as he took from you. The room became a symphony of your moans, whines, and whimpers. His own groans mix in harmony with the echoes of skin against skin. He flips you onto your stomach and slides into you from behind. His thrusts are desperate and rough like he’s trying to permanantly shape your cunt with his cock. 

He kisses and leaves little bites all along your shoulder and neck, moaning in your ear about how good you feel. His mouth rambles on in his pleasure-induced haze. He is vaguely aware of calling you his good girl for drinking his gift, but he is snapped back to reality when you respond that you never drank it. His hips stop as his cock is half way inside you, his whole body freezing in place as your words sink in. You look over your shoulder at him and let out a laugh, a wicked smile on your lips.

He stares deep into your eyes as you say, “I knew we were made for each other from the moment we met, my darling. I just wanted to see how far you would go to have me. I needed to ensure you crave me as much as I crave you. I must admit I was waiting for you to just sweep me up and take me, but the love potion was a nice touch”. At his bewildered look, you continue, “My aunt was a witch, my darling. I know a love potion when I see one”. You end your explanation with another wicked smile as you push your hips up, thrusting your cunt the rest of the way down his cock.

He groans at the sensation as a smirk stretches his soft lips. He picks up his thrusts once again, and all he can think is that he has definitely met his match.