#Doctoring Inspection Machine

[darlingsblackbook]

Zayne x CrushingNurse!Reader | Part Four

When the joke stops being funny ( time for angst muahaha )

Part One • Part Two • Part Three

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | It started when you dropped a pen after Zayne passed by, and one of the nurses whispered loud enough for others to hear, “Careful, she might faint. He breathed near her.” You were shocked, still you laughed with them. That was the first time you didn’t meet Zayne’s eyes all day.

II | You used to prep his morning coffee without being asked. One day, a colleague asked, “Are you trying to date him or adopt him?”

You did not know how to answer her, you could only watch her walk away as she chuckled to herself. You could feel the warmth spread up to your cheeks, embarassment running through every single vein in your body- you threw the coffe you prepared down the sink, both yours and His. Later on, Zayne passed by the desk you were standing at and asked, “Are the coffee machines broken?”

You bit your lip as a pang of guilt - and embarassment again - hit you right in your chest. "No, they are not broken." You answered and looked back at your screen right after, quietly dismissing him. He stood there for a moment, you could feel his eyes inspecting you and you did your best to keep a poker face- after a few seconds he quietly walked away.

III | You started sitting at the far end of the table during meetings. Zayne glanced toward your usual spot. When his eyes passed over you, you looked down. He did not say a word about it, but the way his tone turned clipped for the rest of the briefing? He did not have to.

IV | A group of nurses giggled when you rushed into the OR after being called by Zayne. One said, “She gets summoned and sprints like she’s about to get proposed to.” You tried to laugh. It cracked in the middle. You were used to these comments coming from Mc- but you had built somewhat a friendship with her, these were just your collegues. Collegues whom you definately did not have the kind of bond with to be making such jokes. But, it's fine. They were just joking, they did not meet any harm.

V | You stopped wearing the pretty clip you used to use for your hair. The one Zayne had gotten for you as a birthday present. You had been shocked, but so excited when he congratulated you and had worn the golden hairclip ever since. Until a nurse asked you, "Do you wear it because your hair actually gets in the way or just because a certain doctor gifted it to you?"

VI | Zayne asked you a question and you stuttered again - usually you just laugh it off and Zayne raises and eyebrow. This time, you saw the same nurses that had been dropping comments about you chuckle as they looked your way. You just apologized and walked off mid-sentence. He stared after you for a beat too long, lips slightly parted like he might call out. He didn't.

VII | One of the new nurses caught you staring at Zayne across the hallway and whispered, “Dream smaller.” What? It wasn’t loud. But loud enough for the people nearby to chuckle. You chuckled with them, even though the knife that had been stuck in your chest these past weeks twisted even further.

VIII | Zayne corrected a minor error in your notes. Usually, you’d flush and nod and promise to fix it. This time, you just said, “Yes, Doctor,” and turned away before he could say more. He watched you walk off with something tight behind his eyes.

IX | The nurse’s break room got suspiciously quiet when you walked in. A moment later, someone said, “Wonder how she even got placed on his team. Must’ve blushed her way in.” You stood frozen. No one said anything, they just laughed as if your weren't standing right there, just making a cup of coffee. It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of your chest, because even though she worded it carefully as she did, you knew exactly what she implied.

X | You stopped speaking in group briefings unless directly addressed. Once, you did answer a question, and someone coughed “Pet” into their elbow. Zayne raised his head at the sound, you could see him question himself whether he really heard that right or not. He glanced at you. You didn’t meet his gaze.

XI | MC came to Zayne for a check up and found you pecking at your lunch alone at the desk instead of with the others in the breakroom. She walked around the desk and sat beside you at the empty chair. You tried to act fine. She didn’t comment on the cold sandwich or your red eyes. She just said, “Want me to punch anyone?” You shook your head. She muttered, “Coward,” and stayed with you anyway.

XII | Zayne asked for assistance with a patient and you hesitated before agreeing. He tilted his head slightly. “You always volunteer.” You shrugged. “I just thought maybe someone more… competent could”

"You are one of the most if not the most competent nurses here." He replied, then kept an eye on you. Waiting for the way your eyes would widen and shine at the compliment - as you usually would. And you wanted to, but you already feeling the side eye your collegue next you shot you- you kept your head down. Still, you helped him out. His jaw was tight the entire appointment.

XIII | MC watched you fumble and apologize for a mistake that wasn’t yours as she was seated in the waiting room. When you left, a nurse said, “She’s scared he’ll stop liking her if she breathes wrong.” MC raised a brow and said, “Funny she is the one scared when she has the least reason to be." Silence.

XIV | You dropped your ID badge and someone said, “Pick it up, maybe he'll see something that'll actually catch his attention” You laughed. Later, when Zayne said your name, you had to push back tears at his voice. He noticed.

XV | You once brushed past him in the hallway and he turned slightly, as if expecting a nod or greeting. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even slow your pace.

XVI | Zayne began checking over your work more than usual. Not criticizing—just… looking. Quietly. One day he said, “Your....way of leaving notes to me have changed.” You said, “I’m just trying to be more professional.” He looked like he wanted to ask something. He didn’t.

XVII | You tried to smile at him when handing over a chart, but it came out wrong—tight, strained. He took the clipboard and said nothing. But he was still holding it when you walked away, not flipping the page.

XVIII | Zayne told a mildly sarcastic joke during rounds- keeping an eye out for your reaction expecting your usual nervous giggle.. The group laughed. You didn’t.

XIX | Mc showed up again, something told you it had nothing to do with a check up or another reason she had to see Zayne for- maybe you were delusional, but you thought maybe she came to check up one you. No one had in a long time. “You know he’s not blind, right?” You smiled, “I think he might be.”

XX | One evening, Zayne passed by and paused near your desk. You didn’t look up. He said, “You’ve been different lately.” You kept typing. “Just focusing on work.” He didn’t move. “…Did someone say something to you?”

Silence.

"No." You responded simply, quietly- but somehow that single word felt like a cry, a shout- as if you were banging on a invisible glass cage you were trapped in.

He walked away but as he lay in bed that night he could not stop thinking about it.

All Rights Reserved © DarlingsBlackBook

[szarina]

MY HEART IN YOUR HANDS

a night of his love bore a result. one that you can't escape from. you were still determined to let go of him and put him the story and happiness he deserves even you'll be left with nothing but a body with a shattered heart — Zayne is a another story. He's not willing to let you go when he's already in too deep.

❆ ₊⋆ ���─── notes. inbox is open for any inquiries and requests that are related to this trilogy. thank you all for the support and the comments that made the sequels possible. i do apologize that it is rushed and all.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── taglist. @sillyfreakfanparty @chersyluvs @inzanekillian @regalillegal @quillsanddaggers @hebreeee @hi-itsmee @lupitalover @animegamerfox @xaakilove @iluvzayne @dstrctaya @roschea-arts @simpingpandas @auraficial @sill33witheen @popejar @skyline-night @aboobie @youraveragereaders @ssetsuka @nothoughts-justzayne

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. angst + yandere themes + implied noncon/dubcon + babytrapping + emotional manipulation + pregnancy + ooc zayne + possessiveness + brief descriptions of birth + insecurities + grammatical/typo errors.

READ PART ONE. PART TWO

It's probably a stomach bug or you overate which you always did when you're stressed.

That's what you said to yourself after breakfast when you came running to the nearest sink and hurling the contents of your stomach. The first purge came violently and the bits of your breakfast that wasn't digested by your stomach acid splatters on the pristine white sink of his kitchen.

Zayne rushes to your side. His white coat abandoned in the back of his chair and his sleeves are still rolled up while drawing circles in your back. You coughed up a bit, stealing a glance to him and your throat tightens and your stomach lurches forward. Another wave of nausea hits you.

The sound of the faucet being turned on registers in your brain and you watch as the once contents of your stomach slowly disappears and be washed away in the drain.

Concern was etched on his face. He takes a wash cloth, running it under the cold water flowing from the faucet, giving it a squeeze to wring out the excess water before bringing it to wipe the corners of your lips. His hand holding your jaw while he moves it to inspect your face.

After cleaning your mouth, he asks you a question. “We should go to the hospital.” He calmly says but there's a hint of tenderness in there.

“No. It's not necessary.” Straight out refusing him. It's just nausea, typical. There's several reasons for that but Zayne is quick to refute you. One of the cons of being with a doctor.

“It is needed. Clammy hands, elevated pulse and coldness, it could be a underlying symptoms of an illness. It's better to be sure. Your health should not be overlooked.”

Period. He didn't gave you any chance to refuse him again. He came with you all the way to the hospital and got you settled on one of the private rooms. Not the clinic for walk-in checkups or consultations.

You were kind of glad for the coldness of Zayne's hand while it massage the flesh of your arm. Personally taking your vital signs and doing the blood works while a nurse waits for his instructions. He taps your skin before sticking the end of the needle.

“You will feel a pinch.” He warns, it's not like you needed it. You survived in a fatal car crash and was prodded and wired to different machines.

Blood fills the syringe and he takes it out before putting it on a tray. “I need to get this done as soon as possible.” He orders and the nurse nods at him. Taking the needed information about you and rushes outside. Clearly, they were intimidated by Zayne and whatever he said is the unwritten rule in the book.

“You don't have to pause your work for me.” You surmised, resisting the urge to peel the band aid in your arm where he stuck the needle earlier to draw your blood.

“It isn't ideal but it won't hurt anyone for me to accompany you. Considering you're my patient and future wife. ” He affectionately pets your head. Pulling the chair besides your bed where you sat at. He sits right in front of you.

You ignore the last sentence. It doesn't ease your mind when Zayne is being overly affectionate to you like a housecat when it's near feeding time. Always watching, always close. He takes your hands in his. Marveling the smoothness of your own to his own scarred ones.

“It's going to be fine. Treat it like a another check up. We're only here to make sure you're fine.” His voice calm and assuring. Noticing the small tick when you're worried.

It didn't take long for your tests to come back. It wasn't a nurse who appeared but a another doctor. A woman wearing the same white coat similar to Zayne's, their identification card clipped in the left breast pocket of their uniforms.

Opposite to Zayne's stoic expression, she's bubbly for some reason. “Dr. Zayne.” She greeted the cardiac surgeon. A holographic screen appeared in front of her and with a smile that she fails to keep in doing so, she began to speak.

A sense of foreboding washes over you. You bit your lower lip unconsciously.

“There's no irregularities in the result of her blood tests, Dr. Zayne.” Her sight darting over you and Zayne. She glances back at the screen. “Although, the count of her red blood cells are lower and the white blood cells are higher than normal which is expected since hCG are detected in her blood.”

You didn't like where this is going.

“Congratulations, Dr. Zayne. She's pregnant.” She cheerily announces like it was a privilege to find out the most sought and talented cardiac surgeon is about to be a father.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the sudden revelation. You raise your head to look at Zayne. The other doctor left to give you both privacy at the sudden news. Is that mirth on his eyes? It faded before looking at you but nonetheless it is present. His expression lax.

The memories of what transpired that night sent chills to your spine. You desperately wanted to forget that night but the ache in your body throbs and the hickey he left in your neck stings. You didn't know Zayne was capable of doing that.

“Zayne....” Your voice trails off as you call him. “Is it not to early for me to be pregnant?” Disbelief follows your every word. You meet his gaze. Begging for him to say the truth, that it was only a lie, a fluke, a mistake.

He wraps his arm around you. Your head on his chest and your world crashes when he spoke those words. “Blood results doesn't lie. It's more accurate than any other tests.” He explains. “I am glad that you are fine.” He says with such familiarity, voice gentle and warm. It was much tender than what he used when telling a patient of good news.

There's a flicker of revelry on his eyes as his gaze fixated on the windows before looking down at you.

“You're only pregnant.” He whispers. “It was bound to happen.” His hold on you firm. He presses a kiss at the top of your head. “Don't be so afraid.”

His hazel green eyes darkens as he said those words. “You won't be alone, I'll be by your side — just like I promised.” He murmurs. His arms secured around you, sensing that you're about to pull away.

It didn't bring you the assurance or the words you wanted to hear. Your fingers tightens around the crisp coat of his. Enclosed by your fists, you didn't care if it got wrinkled. All you can think is how you're going to raise a child. Your child with him.

“My parents are back.”

Zayne tells you to get a reaction from you while he loosens his tie. He just got home from overtime at the hospital. A traffic incident got him stuck. He expected that you're already asleep considering your condition but you were wide awake. Poring over the pages of your book.

He sees the furrow of your eyebrows from the reflection of the mirror on the wall. “Is it too soon for them to be back?’ Your voice were flat but for the sake of conversation you try to carry. Zayne ignored the tone of your voice. “The conference ended early.”

He takes off his watch and pulls the drawer to put it. Zayne turns around to see you flipping pages of the book. You didn't even glanced at him. Keeping your response clipped and only mmm's and yeah's. You didn't take the news of your pregnancy well.

It was sudden of course, it only happened that night and weeks later, you are with his child. Considering he monitored all your cycles and since you were under his care, there's a little bit of change in your diet. Foods that are nutritious and rich in boosting your chances of fertility. You didn't suspect a thing.

The night when it happened, he got swept away. Strongly feeling those emotions that he wasn't aware of and he snapped when you said those dreadful words. Why would you leave him now? Don't you love him anymore? He only made his point that night despite your tearful protests that breaks his heart.

He feels a bit guilty about it but was soon relieved. It was necessary. You're not going to leave him, not when you're carrying his child and it would be a shame to your family and there's the risk of you getting shunned. Affluent families doesn't take shame lightly. It was losing face and the honor that was built from time to time. He knows your parents won't agree.

It only happened once — you argued to him. After the test results came back all positive for your pregnancy. He easily downplayed it as normal and you were both a couple. Engaged and waiting to be married. A good time for the upcoming union but your tears told another story. You wanted to leave him and he used the oldest trick in the book. Impregnate your stubborn soon-to-be wife. It worked quite well. Side effect? Your fiancée won't take it lightly and will give you the cold shoulder. Fine by him.

He won't let you go that easy.

He keeps a firm grip on your hand as you both walked in the familiar hallways of the posh restaurant. It was traditional and had lasted through the years despite the frequent Wanderers wrecking havoc in the area. Following the maître d' in where the private room with both of your parents are waiting.

This happened a few times. It was usually you would walk behind him. Almost tripping — trying to catch up his long strides. He never bothered to look behind nor waited for you. Deja vu was the thing you hated. Forcing you to replay all the wasted efforts you put. A reminder that you were always overlooked, ignored. This time you weren't. Walking side to side with his hand intertwined to yours.

Birthdays, graduations and the milestones in one's life are always celebrated here in this very restaurant. Yours and his. It's the little things in life, Zayne's mother would say. It's also the way where Zayne, her son to make him come. Even when he's busy with his studies, he would come. Always the dutiful son that respects his mother's wishes.

On those times, he keeps the facade that you two were both fine. Not realizing that their children in front of their parents are strangers. A relationship strained that it makes family dinners unbearable. You and Zayne both perfected that. Keeping up with appearances.

The room was spacious. A huge crystal chandelier dangling on the ceiling. The light reminiscent of a candles burning in the night, creating a more subdued lightning but still provides the warmth and comfort of the area. It reflects on the cream colored curtains. Glinting on the silver cutleries.

“Here they are.” Is the first voice you recognized upon entering the private room. Your father's voice. Boisterous and good natured just the way you remembered it.

The maître d' politely bowed before leaving the room.

“Finally.” Another voice pipes up and it was Zayne's mother. You can see the slight crinkles on the side of her face. A total opposite of Zayne who keeps the same stoic look on his face.

“My apologies. There's a bit of traffic on our way here. Thank you for waiting on us.” Zayne apologetically nods his head. Light catching on his glasses.

You subtly pried his hand on your plush waist before going to greet your parents while Zayne's parents fuss over him.

“It's been so long, (Y/N). I hope you're faring well.” Your father says before you hug him. “I am.” You lied through your teeth but masked it as something warm to assure your father. You glance at your mother. Stiffly greeting her. The same cold hard stare that scared you and prevented you from bonding with her. You didn't blame her though. She was scared when she almost died giving birth to you. Thanks to Zayne's parents that she was spared from the fate.

“Mother.” Is the only word you can call her but nonetheless, she kisses your cheek. The little bit of affection she can spare to you. Maybe, it's also the reason why you settle for the tiniest of form of affections that were given to you that you're easily contented by it.

The other woman, Zayne's mother approaches you with warm eyes. You can see the lines on her face. A testament that she lived her life on her profession. You adored this woman like she was your own mother. “(Y/N), darling.” She presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“You look lovely as always, my dear.” Zayne's mother compliments you. Squeezing the flab of your arm which you didn't mind. “Is my son treating you well?” She whispers discreetly which isn't so discreet since she glances at his son who was talking to your parents. Her eyes wandering all over you and you failed to notice it. She knows.

“Zayne's treating me well.” You repeat her words. Assuring her that her son was nothing but the best towards you. It earned you a kind smile from her.

It wasn't far from the truth but Zayne was nothing like the man you knew since childhood and before the accident. You were used to his indifference but this was the another side you wished you didn't knew. All it took for you was to almost die.

The lines of her face became more prominent as she held your hand. “I can see that and you're doing the same to my son. I've never seen him so tender — devoted.” She smiles a little wider. The kind of smile knowing her child is somewhat happy in a place. “You know how my son is, always a little hard on himself. You've brought the best of him, my dear child.”

The worst. You wanted to correct her but looking at her kind, warm eyes. That looked out after you since you were a kid — you can't bring yourself to the truth. You've brought out the worst in her son.

“I hope so.” You murmured. Lowering your gaze.

You couldn't meet her eyes while telling a lie.

Zayne was putting pieces of different dishes in your plate. Keeping a sharp eye on the sudden change since you started your cravings and you have gotten quite sensitive to certain smells. A frown quirked in your lips meant you didn't like the food. A thin line meant it was okay and the twinkle in your eyes is what you desired at the moment but you will still refuse it with a pout.

He also noticed how you occasionally glare at him. Not hiding your frustrations at him but keeping it subtle not enough to raise suspicions for the elders in the table to pick up your sour mood directed to him.

There's the sound of ice clinking in the glass and a thud. Your father suddenly putting the glass in the table before a chortle left his lips. Highly amused at the scene in front of him.

“Old habits don't die, huh? You're always making sure she's well fed. I'm glad to know you're still taking care of her.” Your father said amused.

“It's the least I can do for her.” Zayne murmured after placing a chunk of the juiciest part of the meat to your plate. He made sure you take a bite out of it.

Another voice joins in and it was Zayne's father. “Ever since they were children, Zayne always keeps an eye on her and that's the time I knew he'll always look after her. My son here always earning brownie points to impress her.”

Funny how the adults see it. That was lie but also half of the truth. The brownie points was after the accident. It was suffocating now. You glanced at him and he still sports the same stoic look on his face.

“So Zayne...” His mother began to speak, her voice serious but there's a hint of warmth on it. “It's rather unusual for you to call us. Is something the matter we need to discuss?” She looks knowingly at the both of you, her stare a little longer on you before looking at Zayne.

The cardiac surgeon that is her son looks at you. His face hidden by the curtain of his bangs. “Yes.” He paused.

Reaching out for your hand and linking to his. The table grew silent including your parents and his. Suddenly aware of the seriousness in his voice. Anticipating for the news that is about to be revealed. The look on his eyes were warm when you stare at him.

“(Y/N) and I are expecting.”

Your heart dropped at his announcement. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears from how fast it was beating. The familiar sensation of bile rising up in your throat surfaces but you tried to contain it.

Of course, he was going tell your parents and his about this pregnancy. This wasn't just a family dinner. He planned it. His parents back in town, knowing their conference was still ongoing abroad. Yours was easy to convince. They were much easier to involve and they trust Zayne more than anyone else in the world.

Zayne's mother is the first to erupt in cheers. “Finally.” She claps her hand in astonishment. You wanted to deny it but you feel bad, not when they are all expecting a grandchild from the both of you. The union will bore the result in no time but there's no wedding have occured, yet.

Before the accident you decided that you were going to discuss this with Zayne. Call of the engagement and you will both proceed in your life without attachments and pretend this awful engagement for the both of you never existed but it was impossible now. You're pregnant. A outcome of that night you badly wanted to forget.

Just when they're still reeling from the surprise that you were with child. It didn't stop Zayne from proposing again, something that you badly wanted to be free from.

“I understand the seriousness of the situation that comes with (Y/N)'s pregnancy since it was unexpected. Considering that it already happened. Will you allow us to marry as soon as possible before our baby is born?” His tone never faltered at those words. It was like reading from a script that he already prepared for. He was sincere and all.

Your body stiffens. Discomfort being etched to your face. “Did we? Isn't this too soon? I was hoping maybe after the baby comes.” You denied. There was no discussion of it or anything at all. You looked at your soon-to-be in-laws hoping they will disagree at the sudden wedding just because you're pregnant. You look at your parents for help too but you were quickly denied.

You tried to pry your fingers from Zayne's hand discreetly but he squeezes it. A warning. “The time's right, (Y/N). The engagement has been so long and it's a perfect timing before the birth of our grandchild. We were all worried that you two aren't planning at all” Your father commented. A bit concerned at your behavior. Your mother remained quiet. Zayne's parents agreed with your father.

“You don't have to worry a thing. Zayne's good for you. He's a good man.” Your father added. It's the start of every misery when it comes to arranged marriages.

“I apologize for springing this up. (Y/N)'s a bit shaken up since it was — we recently known that she's pregnant.” The pad of his thumb grazes your knuckles. His voice apologetic and remorseful enough to convince your parents and his. You really don't know him anymore.

“Oh darling. We understand. It's fine to feel that way. Trust me, everything's going to be overwhelming starting from now but it will be a breeze after you and Zayne are married.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line. Feigning to consider the implication. You glance at Zayne who's been quiet while his mother gently assures you that being married to her son will be the best choice for yourself and for the baby.

Your father must have sensed your hesitation. He reached for your hands. Holding it to his own wrinkled ones.

“I know marriage is not easy as it can be. Take me and your mother but we worked it out. I trust Zayne with all of my heart.” Your father takes your hand in his. “When we received the news of your accident, my heart couldn't take it. My little girl is hurt. Alone and scared without her father and when I knew Zayne was with you. I have never felt so relieved. Someone is looking after my little girl.”

His voice warm and you see your father, your old man — a little bit younger than his age. Like he was at peace that he knew that his precious daughter is in the right hands. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You did love your father but your relationship with Zayne was the cause of your current misery.

“The baby...” He clears his throat. “My grandchild, consider it as a blessing to you (Y/N). After that inevitable accident and nearly losing your life. Consider it as a second chance to your life with Zayne.”

It was easy for him to say that but could you blame him? He didn't know. You wanted to shake your head in denial. The baby was no blessing. Zayne had put his baby in your womb as a punishment for wanting to leave him.

Everything was a blur to you. Worked it out? Your mother hated you. She can only spare you a bit of her affection. You desperately wanted to reach out to your father. Hoping that he'll listen to your plea but he had entrusted your life with Zayne cause no other man was enough to be with you. Zayne was the perfect husband that every parents wants for their daughters.

The dinner ended after they started discussing about the upcoming wedding. Zayne had excused you both with the reason that you need to rest early. Well wishes were made and Zayne's parents have decided to stay until the wedding.

The excitement was thick that even looking at them made you gag. There wasn't no malice on there cause it was for a good union that both families will be tied just like they wanted. It doesn't settle right with you.

They kept talking. How happy they were for there children being in love and the new addition of the family that will come in the next seven months. Hell, you didn't even knew you were pregnant and Zayne have known it before the tests. Simply because he knows you more than your own.

Uncertainty washes over you. This is not what you wanted. You were ready to walk away from all of this. Be shunned and be a disgrace to your own family. It will hurt but it was better than to be with him. Realizing that the Zayne you always wanted will never be him. There's always the shadow of doubt but alas circumstances changed that. He made it clear.

A gentle melody of the music being played in the radio fills the silence that is engulfing the both of you inside his car. You pressed your palm unconsciously to your stomach. It was still the seventh week of your pregnancy and there wasn't still a bump. The baby the size of a poppy seed sticking to your womb and doubted a baby bump will be prominent considering the natural roundness of your belly pouch. Well as normal people can see it, you're already pregnant.

“You've been quiet for awhile now. Do you want to talk?” He sees you rubbing your stomach. “No.” You answered him before pushing the button besides your seat. The seat reclines before you curled up. Ignoring him while he smoothly manipulates the steering wheel.

You continued to ignore him until you reached his house.

The heaviness of the air lays thick spreading in every corner that it was suffocating. Like the clouds bringing a storm.

“What were you thinking?” The silence of his house settled into you. Breaking it with a shout. The words slipped from your mouth. Your eyes blinks rapidly. There's a rattle of the chains from your sling bag as it hits the cold floor.

“What were you thinking, Zayne!?” You repeated. Your voice a little higher cause you never knew how to scream but someday you'll learn and maybe it was tonight.

Looking at that man who was once so dear to you. The man who you desperately wanted.

“Why would you do this to me? You didn't even want to be married — not to me, at least.” Your fist collided in his chest but he didn't budge. He welcomed it. He welcomed all the anger, the frustration.

“It is needed to be done.” He says without hesitation. A cold hard truth and you hated him for being true and honest with his intentions and feelings.

“Done?” You repeated the word as if your hearing had failed you and you turned deaf.

“How could you!?” You momentarily paused. Your voice quivered as you continued. “I gave you a chance. I was ready to walk away. I-I was prepared to leave anything behind cause I will never be yours. I will never be what you want. I will never be her.” A tear slipped from your eyes. Your body felt cold.

It was the truth. The cold hard truth. You gave up. How could you compete for a woman that holds his heart — his soul. That looking at him will ever remind you of her. That you will always be second. Part of you wished that you should have died that night.

The sight of your glassy eyes, burning with anger and frustration and hurt made his heart clench. It pained him to see you like this. Hurting over for the other woman. Yes, he admits it. He once loved her. Clinged to her existence cause it was the time that he felt that they belonged to each other until he realizes it was only an illusion. A sense of familiarity.

But what bothered him the most is your words. Leave him? Gave him a chance to walk away from this? From you? Why would you say that when you're already with his child. When all he did was take care of you?

He kept silent. His sight flickering between your teary eyes and the belly straining in your sundress. He lets you say it. Scream all your frustrations at him. You were in a delicate situation and he's letting you feel all of it but it doesn't mean he doesn't care. It's better to let it all out than harm you and the life growing inside you.

“I tried so hard for you. I learned things that I know would impress you. I learned how to bake. How to keep it shut. How not to annoy you. It didn't matter. You kept choosing her over me and now you want me? Decide for me? You're guilty. You're fucking guilty!” You screamed at him. Taking a breather because you didn't trust your voice no more.

“That's what you're feeling. You didn't love me! I smiled despite being hurt by you cause I know my place.” A violent sob racked through your body. You shoved him. Putting all the force of your anger and anguish in your hands. You want to hurt him so bad.

“You decided for me. You got me pregnant and you suddenly announced to my parents and yours that I'm pregnant. I — I — I hate you very much! I wished I died that night! I—”

I wished I died that night. Your words bouncing right back and forth in his mind. It rings on his head. The events that happened that night keeps replaying. Bleeding and unconscious. Barely breathing. You wished you died that night and what? Leave him alone in this world?

A frayed rope that was barely holding his emotions snaps, the ends wriggle — too late to realize what just happened.

Then his voice boomed. Akin to a crackle of thunder that shocks your insides that made you shut up. Staring at him wide eyed. The tears continued to spill.

“Enough!” He caught your wrists. Gently wrapped on his cold palms. “Don't you say that words again.” His voice back to the same composed ones. He pulls you closer to his. The scent of his seeping to yours and this is the times where you think Zayne can be warm too.

“Don't you say that words again. I will never let it happen to you again. Don't you ever say that!” He cups your cheeks. There's a slight tremor in his arms before composing himself.

The tears stopped and your anguish was replaced by confusion like you can't believe his words.

“Hate me.” He whispers. “Resent me. Hurt me.” He tenderly brushes the apple of your cheek. “Let me suffer with your hatred but I won't leave you. You are mine. And I will be with you for the madness you have to offer for me. I will take it — accept it — but don't you ever say those words again.” He says softly but there's the firmness to it. Making himself clear.

“You're mad.” Your voice came out unsteady. Disbelief painted in your face.

“Yes, I'm mad. If hatred is the only thing you will have for me in the long run. I will desire it as I desire you because you are mine.” His gaze locked into you. Clouded with darkness or simply madness.

A stray tear trickled down your cheek. Glistening in the trail of path of your still tear-stained cheek. He wipes it with his thumb. His gaze flickering between your eyes and lips.

“What happened to you? You're not the Zayne I knew.” Blinking slowly as try to clear your vision blurred by your unshed tears.

Is he for real? Or you got transferred to another reality where this version of Zayne madly desires you. Sees you for who you are.

There's only the sound of the breathing in each other's mouth. You can't process how to move or how to feel when he's holding you like this. None of you speak. Locked in each other's gazes. You were about to detach yourself from his hold and without a flicker nor a beat — he kisses you without a warning. The kiss that leaves you helpless.

It started out as soft. A tender kiss. The very first kiss you bestow when you didn't see each other for so long then the kiss turned out something as nothing but rough.

Feverish as his lips connected to yours. Pouring all those words that he can't speak of. That even the most sensible of man can be this emotional. Brought by the madness and the intensity of his feelings caused by this woman. His heart beating rapidly in his chest like a bird flapping it's wings wanting to be free.

He holds you close. Closer than he can ever hold. Afraid that if he lets you go — or loosen his grip you'll disappear. Forever lost.

His hand moves from the one holding your cheek to the back of your head and the other descending in the small of your back. Pulling you closer and deepening the kiss that you once lost to.

It was messy. The kind of kiss that all tongues. Dragging into each other. Tangled in desperation that air wasn't even a necessity.

You grip the lapels of his coat. It's the only thing you can hold unto while he keeps you caged in his arms. Leaving you no room to escape from his iron grip.

You were a marionette on his own strings but even he controlled your movements. You can't shut the thoughts running on your own mind.

Zayne's lips were warm on yours. You expected it to be cold but it was devoid of coldness but only the gentle warmth. It tastes like regret and sweet. Bittersweet you describe it.

He's kissing you. Pouring all the feelings he can't say to you and you thought of her. Does Zayne thinks of her while kissing you like this. Imagining it was her on his arms and not some fucked up, insecure woman who begs for attention that no one notices but only when she bleeds.

Still, you kissed him back.

He's not the only one who can kiss you like this. You kiss him while tears pours from your eyes. You didn't stop. You both didn't stop. Chasing each other's lips and tangling each other's tongues. Tasting each other's breath. You're a mess. A fuck up who enjoys being kissed by a man you love who loves another woman.

You dreamt what it was like to be kissed by him. It was sort of granted but it wasn't on your own terms. It was rough. The first night and the first time he kissed you. It was ugly as it can be but still it was a kiss. One that you yearned for a long time. If he wants the hatred you can give to him — then he's sure he will accept all the resentment you have to offer.

It was this kiss he craves — needed. The bitter taste of your regret but there's sweetness above it. Honest and raw that you loved him all this time and you were willing to throw whatever bit of your sanity left for this.

It was addicting. How the fullness of your lips molds into his. The scent of you driving him insane and the feel of your plush body pressed on him. He feels your pulse quicken under his touch. Knows that your heart beats for him and only him.

It's wrong but it feels so right. He couldn't think of her. Not like this. When it's your lips on his. Your touch burning on his skin. Electrifying. Maddening. He will accept this. Learn to embrace it. And when he's in too deep, he couldn't think of her but only you. In his arms. Trembling under his touch while you cried.

Suddenly, the coldness of that lingered on his body melted. Replacing with the burning feeling of your skin. Melting like snowflakes.

The taste of salt in your tears made it addicting. Like the sweets he's fond — tasting the hint of something that shouldn't be there but it's always right. Meant to be there. Everything's balanced. Everything's feels right when it's your lips on his. When it's you who consumed his thoughts.

He will freeze hell for you.

Looking at your glassy eyes and the spit stained lips mix with yours and his. He wipes your tears again. Pressing his forehead to yours and the silence engulfs the both of you with the exception of the gasps taking air again after the kiss.

“You're going to hurt us both, Zayne.” Your voice shaky and pleading.

“Yes, but what is pain when my love for you can endure everything. A love without pain shall not last. And my love for you will be eternal.” He declares without hesitation. That it is the truth and will only be the truth.

Your eyes widens at the depth of the darkness of his words.

“I'll fix us both. I will do everything in my power — whatever it takes. You're not going to leave me and I won't leave you.” His hand holding your cheek descends to your round belly. “Not when our child is growing inside you. Not when you're mine.”

He kisses your forehead with all the love and promise. For a future with you.

That night something broke. A bond that was long forged from ice and a frozen promise. A vow destroyed when his own blood and flesh sprouted inside you. And just like that, he broke the fate of his with a twist of his devotion for the woman in his arms.

The chapel is something out from a dream. A job well done for a kind of rushed wedding. You can see the vibrant hues of wisteria draping over the gables of the chapel. A willow tree in the distance. The air is cool and buds of the flowers are slowly blooming as they sprouted from the damp earth. There's a burst of rain earlier leaving the scent of the soil and the cool breeze gently caressing your skin. It's the weather you want for a wedding. A auspicious day to be married.

Your family insisted per Zayne's flawless convincing, you weren't sure if it was even one. It was the truth coming from him and it was better this way since you're still in the early stages of your pregnancy. Both of your families agreed without a fuss and the wedding day came.

You found yourself behind the wooden doors of the chapel that remains timeless as the years gone by and you can tell that it was maintained. You tried to look up straight ahead as you hear the faint music began to play. The instrumental version of your favorite song from a movie. The doors opened and you think to yourself — it is now or never — or maybe you can run away from this. Save yourself from another heartbreak and disappointments.

You think of the flowers decorated in the pews and how it took the effort to make it pretty for your special day. You recognized a few of them. It's going to be wasted on you. You didn't deserve pretty things. It's not too late. Your conscience told you but as you take your first step towards him — it didn't matter anymore.

During the days you spend thinking about the future as a stupid teenager that carried until your mid-twenties you envisioned your wedding with him. You will be dressed in white and you know Zayne will be handsome in his tailored suit. He's always handsome — you mused to yourself but after years of pining and yearning for him that will never be reciprocated — you abandoned the dream. Some things aren't meant to be.

Then suddenly, you're the one walking down the aisle towards him when you have already given up for this moment. A future with Zayne. A future for the man who noticed you when you knocked on death's doorstep and suddenly — poof — like a flick of a wand or the sudden appearance of a heartbeat in the electrocardiogram after you flatlined — he's marrying you and you doubt him.

He didn't love you. He was guilty for all of this that until this day — by marrying you, he will atone for the misfortune that fell upon you when it's not his fault. You were just born at the wrong time and place, carrying the resentment your mother that placed to you. You can't bring yourself to believe that he truly loves you.

He didn't need to do all of this and he acted like he didn't had a choice to be with her when you gave him the chance. You were willing to walk away! And then when you decided that your tears aren't enough for this relationship to last long, that it wasn't truly you — the heartbeats growing stronger in your stomach tells you how far he can go just to prevent you from leaving him.

Your thought drifted to her, lingering in the back of your mind and surfaces when you're at most vulnerable. A pure soul with a pretty face. Beautiful inside and out. Fearless and gentle to everyone. You were not. You were a thief stealing Zayne from her when you they're the happiest with each other. A coward for letting fear take control of you. Powerless.

The smile plastered on your face strains in your skin. The more you tried to keep it up, the more it numb you. You really can't marry him. You're stealing him from her. You didn't want him to resent you for existing but the gazes of everyone lies heavily on you. The thoughts still screams inside your brain.

And as you take his hand, you can't erase her.

He didn't missed how your eyes flickers between the doors behind you and him. Still contemplating to left after what he had done to secure this day with you. As if it the life he put in your belly isn't enough. That's why a wedding must happen with both of your families as the witness of this union.

Zayne stands there waiting for you, there isn't amiss from his usual stoic expression but his eyes tell something. Certainty. It wasn't arrogance but the confidence that you were truly his.

His gaze fall to the beauty of his bride — about to be his wife. Walking towards him, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The blues and greens a dedication to the commitment.

The wedding gown beautifully hugs your plush figure. The gentle swell of your belly strains against the fabric of your dress, it wasn't a baby bump but you're getting there.

The draped sleeves of your wedding gown delicately exposes your soft rounded shoulders. A touch of modesty and a tease there. Your hair woven into delicate braids and a silver tiara rests at the top of your head weaved with leaves and small blossoms of flowers. It is what considered a timeless and elegant look.

As you get nearer, Zayne basks in your softer features especially your face. A light make up enough to highlight your features.

It was the face he learned to love, the one he gets to look whenever you weren't looking. Him constantly admiring you from how your round cheeks puff when you're pouting and the fullness of your lips that he founds himself staring at it more than he can count.

There's a slight tremor in your hand as you take his and once you're facing each other in the middle of the altar, the priest beginning his spiel about the sacred vows of marriage and the people staring at the both of you — Zayne knows you will always be his and that is the finality of it.

His eyes remained on you the whole time. Admiring the bride that was about to be his. It didn't deter him how glassy your eyes look, at the cusp of crying. He reaches out to wipe the tear that rolls from your eye. He can hear the small awe of the crowd.

Don't cry. You repeated the words like a mantra. You're going to play in his cards but it didn't stop the single tear from rolling. All of this feels wrong cause it was never yours to begin with.

You keep your eyes on him and behind those piercing gaze of the green of his eyes — does he imagine of her instead of you? Does he think that it should be her standing in your place? That she should be the one dressed in white — them exchanging vows of eternity and not even death will part them and find each other in the next life.

Your chest felt tight and your stomach in a twist. You wished you can blame it on the pregnancy hormones or something cause it's easier to put the blame than take responsibility of your actions. You should have left, instead you waited for him and that was the biggest mistake. You were trapped with no way out.

In the same measured voice, he began to speak of his vows. The intensity is thick that you're the only one who can pick it up underlined with warmth that makes it convincing. He affirms you with those words, tinged with softness that is solely reserved for you. A rarity for those who have heard it.

His eyes never left you. Looking deeply into your eyes while he gently lifts your soft hand before slipping the ring in your finger.

“I do.” The words are hauntingly sickening when it was your turn to say it. Your hands tremble as you take his hand, you were scared that out of nervousness you won't be able to put it but lo and behold it slips smoothly on his scarred finger.

His hands cups your jaw, the coldness of his hands seeps into your skin. The priest have pronounced you both, husband and wife — the kiss is about to seal the union.

You only tipped your face to look at him and then, he's leaning down to you — bestowing the kiss that he's going to be yours.

The eyes, they will never lie. You see the same hazel green eyes of his looking at you and you wonder when he looks at you like this. His eyes soft but holds the composure, a hesitation that once never existed and with the love he made you believe but the love's dubious and the real one was the one he holds for her.

Her. You can't stop thinking about her. Sweet, beautiful her will never be compared to you. You glanced at the doors and for a brief moment you see her. Crying silently while the love of her life — kissing someone who is not her. You closed your eyes in surrender.

And when you feel the slow, soft breath coming from his mouth — you strategically move your face slightly to the side and only for him the corner of your mouth. A shaky breath escapes your lips. Swallowing the bitter invisible pill down your throat.

He remains calm and calculating under the rejection of his kiss towards you. He subtly pulls you closer to him and even when you reject his kiss in your lips, you will still feel his love as he gently kissed your forehead. A devotion that he hopes you'll understand and accept.

Silver Springs.

The place where Zayne took you after the wedding. A cozy place nestled in the middle of the woods with a lake view. Perfect for sunsets and sunrises. A perfect getaway from the bustling crowd of Linkon.

You wouldn't exactly call it a honeymoon and retreat is a more befitting word for it. A three day and two nights to be away from everyone. It was your first day as newlyweds — husband and wife. You didn't need to stay long in this place and Zayne have his duties as a doctor.

You didn't know what to feel after the wedding. Everything was rush from your pregnancy to marriage. You didn't thought of it and suddenly you're in the middle of the woods with your husband. The word is strange in your tongue. Zayne — your husband. The very one who had been so distant to you and he's the one who is constantly hovering over you.

Dusk had settled and Mr. Moon have made it appearance. The night is dark — dotted with tiny stars and the crickets chirped in the surrounding area. For some reason it gave you a peace of mind for a few minutes. It reminded you of the summers spent at the countryside where your siblings and you frolicked over the damp grasses and throwing mudpies at each other. Your mother disapproved but your father was forgiving. Children should be children — he says. You can't even hear a drop of scoldings from your old man.

Zayne's in the other room, putting the bags away. You didn't bother helping him. Already exhausted of what transpired yesterday and you want to sleep for now but your brain didn't allow. Since the beginning of your pregnancy, your sleep schedule was a mess. You were out like a light in the mornings and sometines you stayed up late like a night owl. If it wasn't for Zayne's interfering and making sure your sleep schedule was aligned to what a pregnant woman should have.

The door creaked and it revealed Zayne. Holding a cup of tea that helps you sleep comfortably. He places it on the bedside table.

“You're going to regret all of this.”

You blurt out of the blue. The words were sharp but it's a surrender. He stops in his tracks. His gaze falling down on you. Studying you for a second.

“What do you mean?” He asks evenly but he knows what you're referring to. He needs to hear the words.

Your absentmindedly caress your rounded belly. “Me. All of this.” Your tone bitter. “You're going to regret marrying me and having me to bear your children.” You say without indifference nor a quiver to your voice. Not yet. You're still not cracking.

“I don't regret any of it.” He says as he settled down besides you. The wind rustles the trees outside and crickets stopped chirping. The night falling into the silence.

You move to your side and without hesitation, you crawled towards him. Climbing on his lap, caging his thighs. He didn't react much like he anticipated this one and is relishing on the sudden affection of his pregnant wife.

He leans behind the headboard. Holding your wide hip and grounding you on his lap. Securing that you won't let go after such bold move.

“I won't ever regret of marrying you nor putting my child into you. It will happen in due time and I decided it's the best for the both of us.” He says flatly — like it was the reason that makes sense.

You remained silent. Reaching out to touch his face and he melts into your hold. Grasping your wrist as you traced the features of his face.

This man. Your husband belonged to her and you're the one touching him like this. Freely admiring how the light dances on his pale skin. The perfectly sculpted face that you think he was made from a god. Those thick lashes arched in novelty. Framing those narrow eyes of his with eyes the color of forest in spring dappled in sunlight.

“You were so out of reach from my fingers. I watched you. Loved you silently. Hoping that one day you'll look at me but you never did.” Your voice trembled. The calmness of your exterior starting to fade away the more you look at him.

“I heard I flatlined.” It was awful, during your stay at the hospital you heard how Zayne was desperately reviving you after your heart stopped beating, sending you into another cardiac arrest and almost had given up until your heartbeat had surfaced again.

“Was it only the time you realized you were truly afraid of losing me or was it I was slipping away from you?” You searched for a bit of emotion on his face but it remained stoic like he was thinking.

“I never feared anything more than losing you.” The fear, the pain, the guilt that wracked his whole being. All that crashes into a single tidal wave. Rendering him powerless to protect you from all the things that harmed you. It was out of his control of what happened to that fatal car accident that it almost costed your life.

It was beneath him. He had never been so useless his whole life. He never wanted to see you hurt again. Lying in the bed — fighting for you life.

“My mistake ks that I had never given you the chance to know you more but now, I have a lifetime to know you and I won't let anything get between us.” He squeezed the plushness of your waist.

“Yeah?” You asked not moved by his declaration. “What about her? You loved her.” Your eyes burn, thinking of her. He watched as the white of your eyes turned red — deeply affecting him that you still think of her when it was you he choose.

“She doesn't hold my affections the same you hold mine.” He says coldly like the entire existence of her was nothing and is a taboo one to speak that will get you cursed. His expression barely cracked. The reserved, calm exterior were nothing to the cold gaze in his eyes. Simmering with the unadulterated devotion and the darkness merging in those depths.

“That's it?” You murmur — unsure, like you can't believe what he said. “That's it?” You repeated again. All his life it was for her. Being a doctor specializing in the cardiology since she was sick, something in the heart. Devoting his studies to understand her condition and he says that like it doesn't matter anymore.

“You built yourself for her, Zayne — you loved her more than anything else and it is this easy for you to say that I'm the one who holds your affection when you turned like this after what happened to me?”

“I did love her but she's not you. She's not the one I married, not the one who's carrying my child. You're the only one that matters and it will be the end for this. We have a future together.” He says without indifference.

“You won't know the extent of my devotions — I will kill for you. Let the world know that you are mine.” He added. The room turns cold as he let those chilling words left his mouth without breaking eye contact. Frost have formed in the corners of the room but he's warm.

He watch as your eyes widens at his declaration. The heavy implications lays thick and it was true. You don't how far he'll go to such lengths for you, to prove that you're the only one. Enough to convince you to abandon the thought that you will always be second.

Kill. The word is strong. Shivers creep down your spine. It doesn't hold any hostility but the thought of him killing for you, scares you the most.

“I save lives and I can take one too — if anyone touches you — let alone a strand of your hair, I'm the last person they'll be looking at. I am capable of holding a knife to someone's throat much as I am with a scalpel. Nobody will harm you as long I am here.” He added.

In which he already did. The paramedics fault to sent the man also in Akso Hospital. The negligence of his drunk driving endangered your life and in the unforeseen future will also put the others. He just ended it. Administering small doses of potent drug that made it look like he peacefully passed away in his sleep.

“I turned you into a monster.” You whispered, about to remove yourself from him but he kept you on his hold.

“You didn't. You made me feel without restraints. Real. This is who I am.” The tone of his voice didn't change while he strokes your cheeks adoringly.

You were on top of him but is Zayne is quick to admonish you to place you beneath him, that he's always the one to be in control.

“My devotion runs deep for you, more than you will ever know.”

This isn't what you envisioned for your future. Forever tied to him for this lifetime. He took the words from your mouth but it doesn't mean it was enough to say it again.

“I will hate you in the long run.” You warned him but Zayne smiles softly at you.

“It's fine. I have enough love for the both of us. Enough for the two little ones.” A faint smile ghosted his lips. Already attached to the twins — to the thought of being a husband to you and a father to your unborn children. He rests his palm to your protruding belly.

He gently switches the position of you both and now you're lying beneath him. Your hair sprawled like dark halo in the pillows. “You didn't kissed me properly in our wedding.”

His gaze lingering on the soft plump lips of yours before looking at your eyes. “I'll be kissing you properly tonight. You won't deny me right?” It wasn't a question for he kissed you and it's not only a kiss he got from you.

It was a real honeymoon after all.

It's the first time in months you have seen her again.

In the quiet afternoon of the corridors in the hospital, dressed in her hunter uniform. You were done for your monthly check-up with Zayne in your side. His crisp white uniform is abandoned for his black dress shirt and trousers paired with his leather shoes. He's not a doctor today but a doting husband to his heavily pregnant wife.

The flowy pale blue sundress did nothing to conceal the pronounced baby bump. Straining against the fabric and it's the only piece of clothing that is providing you comfort. Loose and breathable.

It may the effect of your pregnancy but you weren't the same anymore when you've seen her. There's no more stinging burn in your eyes nor the heaviness in your chest. You felt at peace or you made peace with your emotions towards her. It's not the assurance that Zayne was your husband and pregnant with his child — it is because you surrendered.

There is no point on dwelling with your ugly insecurities towards her and besides you're going to harm your babies in your womb. You were already at risk with your pregnancy and you shall not strain the innocent babies growing inside you.

The thoughts will always linger. Zayne studies your reaction or the possible trigger of a meltdown but he found nothing. He should be assured — relieved but the neutral expression in your face didn't settle right with him and then he noticed — the mask you were wearing.

Well, it didn't last long for the facadé to crack. You were calm but there's still the hurt left in your heart.

He didn't speak of it but he keeps a firm grip to your plush waist. Shielding you from any possible stress that may harm you and the babies in your womb.

They crossed paths again. What once yesterday's silent promise was nothing to today's and future's commitment to you. He didn't spare her a glance not once when in the past he look at her like she's the most precious thing in the world but now, she was only a shadow. A remnant of the past. He couldn't bother not when there's you in his hold, pregnant with his children. A future he looks forward to.

After leaving the hospital, you were both walking in the nearby park in Linkon. The trees were lush with greenery, the pond glimmering from the sunlight reflecting in the water. The grass soft to touch. The weather wasn't also warm or cold just a right touch of being a good weather.

It's been a few paces and the you noticed it, the stares.

Of course, who would not stare at the eye candy besides you holding your hands. If Zayne weren't a doctor he could be a model. Posing on different cover pages of famous magazines dressed in the latest trends of clothing. Haute couture and all that. Walking in the runway. He must be used from all of it. Except he's not the only one being stared at. They're also looking at you and Zayne noticed that.

You were looking more radiant. Lovelier and fresh like a rain drop. The pale blue sundress did your voluptuous curves justice even with your bump. You could be quite oblivious to but not for long.

The stares, they were weighted and when people stares either they are judging or admiring and you always think of former. You weren't a pretty face nor have the body of a model or maybe it's just the bump. That's right the bump and you unconsciously squeezed your hand in his. Anxiety filling the pregnancy brain of yours.

“Is there something on my face, Zayne. They're staring.” You asked him unsure. Pulling your cardigan closer to you.

He turns around to face you. Another curious gaze from a man he catched giving them a sharp look that says back off before looking at you. “No.” His voice tender and assuring.

“It must be the bump or I've gotten too big.” He sees how your eyes turned sad and the tears was already there.

“It's not the bump. It's you.” His voice firm and it kind of scares you.

“They're admiring my wife.” He explains and the sadness were replaced of a assurance. “Don't worry about them. You have me.” He softly murmurs to you and you believe him.

It makes him want to protect you more.

Zayne took you to a nearby flower shop. Where a nice old lady owns it. Keeping in mind to pick the flowers you wanted to plant since you've been eyeing the vacant part of the garden in the house. You didn't need to tell him. He knows. You've also been much open to him, vocal about what you want.

For the twins, you spoke to him one night about how you wanted flowers in the garden. You wanted flowers to bloom for the twins and he's more than happy to fulfill that for you.

“When are you due, dearie?” A voice spoke besides you. A gardening can in their hand while they admire the potted plants near you. Her hair silver, kept into a neat bun. Their eyes kind and she reminds you of the nice grandmas you meet in the hospital during your checkups or anywhere.

“In a few months.” You said softly, your fingertips tracing the petals of the daises. Admiring the other variants of flowers, thinking of what you should plant for your babies.

She laughs in a light-hearted way. Patting her apron smudged with dirt from tending all the plants in her shop. “The little ones are joys, you know.”

Your mood dampened a bit, remembering how you got pregnant in the first place and Zayne notices about to intervene not wanting to upset you further. “First one?” The nice old lady inquired.

You smiled softly as your gaze drifts to your round belly. “Twins, actually.” You murmur.

“Double the blessing at the first try.” She muses, looking at you. “Pregnancy suits you beautifully, sweetheart.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. “Excuse me, dearie. I shall find you a selection of seed packets of flowers you might like for your babies.” She left with a smile and you turned around to meet his gaze.

“You don't need to hover.”

He keep his hand planted at the small of your back and you sighed. This man can be stubborn.

The old lady came back with the seed packets she promised. She noticed Zayne. “You take care of her.”

“I will.” His voice flat while staring adoringly at you.

You both left shortly after getting the seed packets and bulbs of the flowers you wanted.

“I'm staying home for today.” He tells you one morning. The sun were barely up and you were puking your guts out in the toilet. Six months in your pregnancy and nausea have been kicking you harder than ever. Your twins were literally taking up the space in your belly.

“Is that allowed? You're the chief surgeon.” You take his hand as he assisted you in getting back to your feet again and guiding you towards the bedroom.

“My colleagues can handle today's work.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing and if he says so. You don't have the strength to argue nor push him anymore not when you're already resting your head on his chest. The warmth of his body and the coldness of his hands is what you need.

“Mmm...” A small sound escaped your lips as you tried to suppressed the sudden movements of one of your twins. It was kicking your stomach. You raised your head to meet his gaze. “Calm your spawns in my belly.” Groaning as you feel the both of your twins getting more active.

The surgeon put his hand on your belly. Rubbing soft circles around it and the twins immediately settled down. You didn't mean to sound bitter and call your twins — spawn but with your emotions heightened caused by your pregnancy that is your husband's fault. You can't help it.

Triggered by the way you addressed your precious babies — the familiar stinging pricking behind your eyes started and it broke out when you look at him.

“I hate you.” The words slipped from your mouth and then followed by another. “I hate that you put them in my belly without asking me if I wanted them.”

You couldn't count how many time you said you hated him than you loved him still Zayne remains tender with you. He did said he got enough love for you and how will he accept the hatred from you.

He countered it. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love that you're mine. I love that you're going to be the mother of my children.” Your lips curls up in a pout and quivered as you broke out in sob and he kisses your tears away until you calmed down.

It's not really a big price he needed to pay. He didn't regret his decisions cause it was planned and he only acted upon it. Similar to operations, you can't cut open without studying their condition and Zayne knew that you still love him.

If you should not have still loved him, you would have tried to escape him or hurt the two little ones growing in your belly but you didn't. You loved them, nurtured and took care of them with care. His extensions of devotion.

Even when you screamed and told him how much you hated him — why did you still accept him in your arms when he seeks it or the days where you look for him for the safety of his body he provided you with love and comfort.

Strongly besotted that when you tried to annoy him with your cravings having particularly developed a taste for the brightly orange colors of the carrots that should have been obliterated — he took a bite after you said that “I'm going to eat carrots cause you hate it so you can hate me too.” He long avoided that disgusting excuse of a vegetable and only you can make him eat it — not to spite you but to show that he will never hate you cause the mistake you only did was love him with all your heart.

There's also your pregnancy, he didn't thought about being a father but with you — everything's right. Falling into its rightful pieces.

Some nights, she crossed his mind. Thinking that he didn't truly loved her. He did became what he is today but it's not enough for a reason to stay. To love is to hurt. That phrase didn't justify when his love for her slowly diluted and was filled for you. Filling the cracks of your shattered heart. He only got hurt when he almost lost you — when your heart decided to stop beating.

He was terrified of losing you — of living a life without the sound of your voice or your presence haunting him.

You are his destruction and you shall be only his salvation.

Stained his hands with the blood of he saved and those who harmed you. He will protect you even it cost him what he believes in.

It was all the answers and the logic that he received that he didn't truly loved her cause Zayne only bleeds for you.

The twins came early as expected.

Aurora. His first born daughter and the eldest of the twin came into the world crying her eyes out like a newborn does. Her cries filled the quietness of the hallways and mixes with the storm raging outside.

The other twin — the one that gave all the doctors and nurses including him the scare. It wasn't visible since they were trained to be calm in situations like this. He didn't came crying for he wasn't breathing.

They had tried to all medical procedures to coax his youngest to cry or breath and even with his specialty in neonatal care, it didn't prepared him for this scenario until he sees your weakened state, reaching out for his child — your child with him.

Zayne didn't believe in miracles that it was only the will of the mind and body shall survive in dire straits but a mother's love for her child proves that miracles exist.

He placed your son to your chest and you cradled your unmoving child to your chest. “Mommy's waiting for you.” You whispered. Your voice hopeful — trying not to crack. Gently tapping his back to coax him to cry or breath or anything that he's alive. It was minutes of pure torture but you remained calm, you didn't let the fear of losing your child take over.

You didn't take your eyes off him. Tears are welling up in your eyes but you didn't let it slip and then it happened — a tiny flutter of breath — his tiny fists curls up in your chest. You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and the tears fall before you can realize. You let out a choked laugh. Relieved that your baby boy is alive and well.

“Yue.” You call his name and he gave you the tiniest of smiles before his eyes began to open and stares at you with eyes similar to his father.

Outside the storm had passed. Dark skies began to part and to show the moon peeking through the stormy clouds. Shining brightly and fully.

The room is dim. The monitors beep and seeing you in bed brought unwanted painful memories for him. You're not in that situation anymore. You're alive and passed out from exhaustion despite trying to fight it earlier to admire your children.

The twins are resting in their separate bassinet. Already done with their tests and no health conditions were present. Both healthy and thriving.

Zayne loves his children before they were even born but his gaze fixated on his baby boy. The one who didn't cry and breathed not until surrounded by your warmth or hear the voice of his mother.

Similar to him whenever he wasn't near to you. His fingers gently stroke his baby's boy head then whispered. “You shouldn't scare your mother like that.” The baby only stirred, lips twitching as if understanding him.

He looks at you peacefully sleeping. He will never you put with this kind of pain again. He promised to himself. Admiring his wife blissfully vulnerable and beautiful.

“We're together now.” He said before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

At that moment with the twins and you resting, Zayne had never felt so complete in his life.

It felt surreal — how you managed to birth your two babies. Peacefully asleep in their separate cribs, dressed in their snowman onesies.

The pregnancy scared you and with Zayne constantly hovering over you adds the anxiety that you weren't going to be a good mother. You weren't even ready to conceived the both of them but Zayne wanted them — wanted to grow in your womb that you will have no means to leave him.

It mirrored how weak you are that you are easily manipulated with no control of your autonomy. Forced to be with his children without the thought how it will change the course of your lives.

Zayne became the cold and ruthless man that didn't know he was capable of. He would rather let you hate him than leave. You screamed — told all the foul words that you knew but he only stands in front of you with cold gaze. Did his heart even break when you told them all those spiteful words?

The nursery was quiet. The walls were pale blue, painted with arctic animals. Penguins in the corner with their black and white feathers, polar bears in their snow white fur and the other wall were dotted with tiny snowman.

It became your haven when everything becomes too heavy for you to carry. What once you despised growing inside you became your comfort. You hated yourself for hating your children when they were inside your belly cause how come you would want something you didn't ask for and when your baby boy came out almost lifeless and brought to life with your warmth — it frightened you.

They lay asleep. A twitch of their lips in there and their body stirring. You reached out gently to stroke your daughter's cheek with your knuckles. Sweet Aurora with her adorable smile. Melting hearts after she was born. She looks like you with your eyes in hers, taking your facial features and you hope she won't take after your personality.

You kiss the pad of your fingertips, pressing it to her chubby cheeks. You teared up a little. Your gaze fell to the other crib where your baby boy rests well he's not when he sensed you. Reserved Yue who only cries when you're far away from him. Always wanting to he with you.

You take him out from his crib to soothe him. Cradling him close to your chest and your baby boy looks at you with his father's eyes. The same hazel green that you didn't know wether to love or hate it but it belongs to Yue. The baby you almost lost. He's a mirror of Zayne. A tiny version of your husband and the resemblance grew bigger every day.

“You know how to scare mommy, Yue.” You whispered in the quietness of the night and his round eyes stares at you — unblinking.

You sniffle a bit. “Mommy won't wish anything but she hopes that you and Aurora would grow up, strong and healthy.” You laugh a bit to yourself. It was every mother's wishes to their children and you're no different.

Then your voice drops lower like you were on the verge of crying — you are but you only smiled. “But I hope you and Aurora won't be like me.” Your voice cracks. “Please don't be like me.” You repeated and your breaks with every word. “Please don't change to be loved — to be wanted.” You don't want a repeat of history. You don't want your children to be in the same pain you had gone through.

“Learn to leave when you're not needed or wanted and learn to stand up for yourself. Mommy will teach you how even she failed to do it for herself.” The first tear came rolling and Yue raises his tiny hands as if to reach you.

You laugh to yourself before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mommy's sorry for telling you this, Yue.” You look at your daughter. “Aurora.” You silently call her name. “Mommy does not want her babies to be hurt.”

You wipe the tears using the heel of your palm before gently rocking your baby boy to sleep. You promised to yourself that they won't be like you. A weak coward who can only stand up for their self when it's only too late.

Zayne stilled for a moment when he hears you say those words. He didn't mean to hear it and assumed you were asleep except you weren't and he finds you in the nursery. Sitting in a rocking chair. Rubbing soft circles to your baby boy and then he hears you. Begging and broken.

After all this time you still think of that? That you still live in the past with the pain of his shortcomings but who could ever blame you — you were hurt by his own.

Slowly, he walks towards you.

The weariness of today can't compare to your pain. He holds your wrist — almost startling you and he catches the tear stains in your cheek and the embarrassment that followed.

He kneels in front of you. Reaching to wipe the tear stains on your face before cupping your round cheek on his large palm. “They won't know it. They will be loved the way I loved you.” He says in a calm voice that soothes your very being despite being hurt.

“I won't allow that.” His voice low enough for you to hear and not to disturb the children sleeping. “And you should never believe nor feel that.”

You were about to say something but your lips closed. Waiting for him to speak again.

“You were never meant to feel those things.” Brushing the tears with his thumb. “You're mine and I have a lifetime to spare and the next that you shall never feel these things again.” He assures you before standing up to press a kiss to your lips before his gaze fell down to his son who looks exactly like him. He softly caressed their soft head.

“Yue, Aurora and you shall never be in pain and I will rid everyone whoever tries to harm you all.” It's dark and chilling from how he spoke those words.

You only hoped that his words are true and there won't be a repeat of that again.

[geneviveleocardius]

meeting for the first time

feat. viktor

the dockside streets of zaun were a maze of clanking pipes and crooked cobblestones. you weren’t supposed to be out here, but your sense of adventure had gotten the better of you. with a small satchel slung over your shoulder and dirt smudged on your face, you explored every nook and cranny, stopping only when you spotted someone sitting alone on a crate.

it was a boy, no older than six or seven, with messy brown hair and a pair of sharp golden eyes that seemed to shine even in the dim light. a crutch leaned against the crate, and one of his legs was wrapped in a brace that clicked faintly when he shifted.

you were fascinated immediately.

“hi!” you chirped, bouncing over to him.

he startled, closing the book in his lap with a soft thump. “what do you want?” he asked, his accent lilting and sharp, like his words were always on the verge of being a challenge.

“nothing! i just saw you sitting here and thought you looked lonely.”

“i am not lonely,” he said quickly, frowning. “i am reading.”

you peered at the cover, which had a title far too long for you to understand. “what’s it about?”

he hesitated, clearly deciding whether you were worth his time. finally, he sighed. “it is about machines and how they work. you would not understand.”

“maybe,” you admitted with a shrug, then pointed at his leg brace. “did you make that?”

his eyebrows shot up. “what?”

“your leg thingy! it looks cool. did you build it?”

“no,” he said slowly, as if you were a little strange. “the doctor did. why?”

“because it’s clever,” you said, tilting your head to inspect it. “does it hurt?”

his lips pressed into a thin line, like he wasn’t used to being asked such a thing. “sometimes,” he admitted after a long pause.

“that’s not fair,” you said, sitting down on the cobblestones in front of him. “you should have a leg that doesn’t hurt. maybe one with gears and springs! i could help you make one.”

“you? help me?” he gave you a skeptical look.

“yup!” you said, grinning wide. “i’m good at fixing things! my papa says so.”

he studied you for a moment, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of you. “you are strange.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you shot back, unfazed.

to your surprise, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “i am viktor,” he said, after a moment.

“that’s a pretty name! let’s be friends.”

“friends?” he echoed, like the word was foreign to him.

“yup! i’ll stick with you forever.” you reached out and poked his arm lightly, as if sealing the promise.

viktor blinked at you, then huffed a little laugh. “you are very annoying.”

“good!” you said, giggling. “now, what were you reading? tell me about it!”

and just like that, a bond was formed. as you listened to him talk about machines and how they worked, you didn’t notice how his shoulders relaxed or how his smile lingered longer than usual. you’d found your first friend, and viktor—despite his protests—had found someone who made the world feel a little less heavy.

forever didn’t seem so long after all.

[redbird-tf]

Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒

(USFT! a list of intimate/kinky prompts. your muse = sender, my muse = receiver. add "+ reverse" to reverse the roles. adjust freely to suit your muses.)

[ mirror ] your muse fucks mine in front of a full-length mirror, forcing them to watch every second

[ candle ] your muse pours hot wax over my muse’s chest, thighs, or other sensitive areas, grinning at every flinch

[ blindfold ] my muse blindfolds yours, teasing them with toys, ice, tongue—never letting them guess what’s next

[ massage ] what starts as an innocent massage turns into your muse teasing every erogenous zone until mine begs

[ edging ] your muse brings mine to the edge over and over until they’re a sobbing, trembling mess

[ bodypaint ] our muses paint on each other’s bodies—then fuck the designs into a blur

[ hot tub ] your muse grinds into mine under the bubbling surface, hand wrapped around their throat, lips on their ear

[ games ] strip poker turns into strip dares—followed by toys, spanking, or oral under the table

[ car ] your muse bends mine over the car hood and takes them right there, fogging the windows with every moan

[ roleplay ] boss/employee, priest/sinner, captor/prisoner—our muses go deep into a twisted fantasy

[ mile high ] your muse drags mine into a plane bathroom and fucks them against the wall while covering their mouth

[ vibrations ] your muse uses an app-controlled vibrator in public, pushing mine to the brink during a serious event

[ tapes ] our muses record themselves from multiple angles and rewatch the filth together afterward

[ bondage ] wrists bound, legs spread—your muse takes what they want while mine is completely helpless

[ chocolate ] chocolate, whipped cream, fruits—your muse eats it all off my muse’s naked, trembling body

[ voyeur ] my muse watches your muse ruin someone else—and begs to be next

[ gloryhole ] your muse gets serviced by mine anonymously through a wall, only revealed at the end

[ cinema ] our muses go to an adult movie theater and do everything but watch the screen

[ asleep ] your muse slowly teases mine awake, using their mouth until they moan themselves conscious

[ whip ] your muse flogs mine with a crop, paddle, or whip, counting every strike and kissing every mark

[ medical ] your muse plays the strict doctor, using gloves and toys to “inspect” my muse thoroughly

[ cleaning ] your muse eats their own cum out of mine like it’s the sweetest thing they’ve ever tasted

[ ice ] ice dragged across nipples, between thighs, down spines—your muse uses cold as punishment and pleasure

[ pegging ] my muse bends your muse over and wrecks them with a strap until they’re whining for more

[ watch ] my muse is caught watching your muse touch themselves—and now they have to help

[ restrain ] my muse cuffs yours to the bed and uses them like a toy, unrelenting

[ breath play ] your muse chokes mine just enough to make them dizzy and desperate

[ dressing room ] our muses sneak into a dressing room, one of them riding the other while trying to stay quiet

[ control ] your muse is given full access to my muse’s body for the night—no rules, no resistance

[ public ] your muse fingers mine under a table, in a club, on a train—wherever people might see

[ shower ] steamy sex in a slippery shower, complete with hair pulling and wall-slammed kisses

[ underwear ] my muse discreetly removes their panties and slips them into your muse’s pocket at dinner

[ threesome ] our muses invite someone (or something) else to join—two mouths, two hands, and no mercy

[ stimulation ] while your muse receives oral, they use a vibrator on mine until they’re crying from overstimulation

[ ball gag ] your muse gags mine and fucks them until they can’t even remember their own name

[ porn ] our muses watch something filthy together—then recreate it

[ phone sex ] miles apart but connected by moans, words, and dirty commands—until they both explode

[ machine ] my muse is strapped to a fucking machine, moaning while your muse watches—or directs the pace

[ spit roast ] my muse is taken from both ends—your muse in front, someone else (or a toy) behind

[ dinner ] your muse fingers mine at a formal dinner, keeping eye contact the entire time

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I have literally read all you stories and im so so impressed. Im not sure if your taking requests or if. If not than im very sorry. If yes then could you please write one where a modern doctor ends up being reborn as a Nobel princess who is about to marry king baldwin. She could then cure him.

♧ A Better Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO FRIENDS!!! I am back officially now!! Exams are over and the school year is done! I am so exited to be back!! Anon thank you so much for this beautiful request. This took me so long and I really hope you like it!!! This was an amazing one to return with, I hope yall enjoy it!!. As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Slight mention of blood

Y/n remembered little to nothing from that night.

Simply getting into her car late, well after the sun had set, and driving. Then the lights. Then the crash. Everything else was fuzzy. Even in her life before the crash, the only knowledge she seemed to remember was what she had learnt in medical school all those years ago.

Nothing about her beautiful rooftop apartment where she lived alone. And certainly not the crippling loneliness she dreaded returning to every night after work at the hospital.

------------------------------

Y/n’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching at her pounding heart. After a few seconds of panic, she looked up at her surroundings.

There was no car, no wreckage, no blood.

Just a plush, white sheeted, four poster bed that held her trembling form. The curtains that hung around the top of the bed shrouded her view of the rest of the room, but from what she could see, an open balcony window allowed sun to shine through and into the large, beautifully decorated stone room.

Confusion soon replaced fear in the young doctor's mind. Was she in a hospital? No, it wasn't sterile enough to be a hospital. There was no beeping of machines, no bustling nurses. Something she was all too familiar with.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but all she could remember was the crash. Nothing else. Y/n pulled back the covers and cautiously stepped out of the bed. She barely got one foot on the ground before the large, wooden doors opened to reveal young woman carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes that y/n had never seen in her life.

“Good morning my lady” the young woman said with a smile, approaching y/n’s bedside.

“Good morning,” the doctor replied, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

“I hope you are excited for today my lady, everybody in the maids chamber surely is!” the young woman said, her bright eyes practically glowing.

“I'm- excited for what?” y/n replied cautiously.

“Well your wedding of course, everybody has been anticipating this day for months now! Our kingdom will finally have a queen!” she was grinning now, y/n couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

“Oh- yes! How could I have forgotten” the doctor said, once again attempting to hide the fact she had no idea where she was.

After the maid had left, y/n inspected the food. It looked delicious but eating was the last thing on her mind, for now. She slipped out of the bed to take a look around the room. There were books stacked on a shelf, a desk, a face washing basin and lots and lots of religious imagery, painted in typical pre-renaissance fashion.

Judging by the beautiful stone walls, she was most definitely not in the twenty-first century anymore. Nothing was boring and white. No white walls, no white marble countertops. Everything was handmade. Genuine. It was certainly a changeup from the old routine.

You see, y/n was intelligent. She always had been and on top of this, her years as a surgeon had taught her to act reasonable, calm, and logical even in the most outlandish situations.

Waking up in a different time period after a car wreck was no different.

She had to think of a plan.

“It's morning, people should be expecting me somewhere soon”. Turning to the bookshelf, y/n picked up a book and opened it. Handwritten. In Hebrew.

“That should place me somewhere in Israel, perhaps Jerusalem” she thought.

“And it's definitely before the renaissance, but after the birth of Christ”.

Placing the book back on the shelf, y/n continued to think. She had to figure out where she was and fast.

Y/n turned her attention to the other side of the room. The bed, a couch, and the open balcony doors. Approaching the balcony, y/n looked outside inspecting the area around the building she was in.

Knights. Many knights.

“Medieval “ was the first word that came to mind.

“That should place me somewhere around the 12th century-” was the last thing her mind concluded before the wooden doors opened again.

Six maids came into the room, each carrying something different. Some carried jewelry, some hairbrushes and combs, and others beautiful white fabric that appeared to be some kind of dress.

“Oh my lady, you have barely touched your breakfast!” one of them exclaimed as y/n entered the room from the balcony.

“You will need your strength for today!”

“Oh I'm terribly sorry, I forgot all about it! I was just getting some fresh air, I'm a little nervous” y/n said as calmly as she could, praying that they didn't notice something was off.

“That's alright dear” the oldest of the maids said, “it doesn't matter now because we need to get you dressed! Come, sit” she gestured to a vanity mirror and chair that y/n hadn't even noticed. 

--------------------------------

It felt like hours that the doctor sat in that chair, as the maids worked tirelessly on her hair and face. Braiding and brushing, applying makeup and finally helping her into the beautiful white dress robes.

They fit perfectly, just like a glove. As if they were made for just her and her alone.

“You look immaculate, your majesty,” one of the maids said, taking a step back to admire their future queen. Y/n smiled, for a moment forgetting her predicament.

It felt as though she had lived in this world her entire life.

“Come now darling, we don't want to keep the guests waiting!” the oldest maid said, taking the doctor's hand and leading her towards the door. Y/n followed blindly.

“This should be interesting,” she muttered.

-------------------------------

It was a short walk from her chambers to the church. There were already plenty of people waiting inside. Y/n barely had any time to think before a bouquet of flowers were shoved into her hands and she was walking down the aisle, people standing left and right staring at her.

Taking a deep breath, y/n steadied her hands and continued walking at a slow, measured pace.

“Come on y/n, this has to be the least nerve racking thing you've done all week”.

Looking up, she could see her “future husband” standing at the end of the aisle. It was strange, she couldn't see his face, he was wearing white robes and a veil that shrouded his features almost entirely. But from what she could see, it appeared he was wearing some kind of mask.

Then it all connected.

Not only had y/n taken a myriad of science and math subjects in highschool, she had also taken an ancient history class. One unit had specifically focused on the “Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV”. This must have been him.

As she approached the end of the aisle, her mind wandered to a patient she had treated with severe leprosy, contracted while he was on a tropical holiday. She remembered how much pain he had been in and her heart broke thinking about this poor king who had gone untreated for so long.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when she came face to face with her soon to be husband. His eyes met hers and what she thought would have been a neutral feeling (since she did not yet know this man at all) turned quickly to a feeling that she had not experienced in what felt like years.

Love.

The doctor's heart skipped a beat looking into those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. The mask he wore was polished to perfection, the metal was perfectly shaped into sculpted, masculine features.

He was beautiful.

Y/n was far too focused on just how captivating the man who stood before her was to pay any attention to whatever the priest was saying, until once again she was snapped out of thought by the large crowd cheering as they were pronounced husband and wife, in the name of the Lord.

-------------------------------

Later on, the guests had left and all had returned to somewhat calm after a day of celebration. Y/n was slightly shy at first during the celebrations, doing everything in her power to read the room and understand her place in this new world. But after a while, she began to enjoy herself.

Her “husband” had barely spoken a word all day, but she had caught him looking at her as she talked with his sister and associates. She was told by a few maids that after getting changed from her wedding attire, she would go and meet privately with her new husband.

She was nervous, but not even half as nervous as somebody else was...

Baldwin paced up and down his chambers until his legs were in agony. The day had been strenuous on his body and the pacing did not help.

The young king slumped down on his couch, cursing his frail body. He had watched her all day, his wonderful y/n. So full of life, so intelegent, speaking with everyone and enjoying her time while all he could do was sit and watch.

Oh how he had wished to join her, to dance with her, to speak with her, to hear every word her beautiful voice had to say, to look into her eyes. Those perfect eyes.

He hoped that she knew just how much he had fallen for her, even though they had not spoken a single word all day.

He cursed the mask that shrouded his emotions, forcing him to look cold and stern when all he wanted was her to know how warmly and deeply he felt for her. Baldwin sunk deeper into the couch cushions. His body craved sleep, craved a break from the pain. But he couldn't. He had to see her right this instant.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as his failing lungs could take, the young king sat up and stared down into his hands, anticipating the moment y/n knocked on his door.

He did not have to wait long because no more than a minute after he sat up, a small knock came from the wooden door. Baldwin got to his feet, perhaps too fast. He steadied himself and called for her to enter. Y/n pushed open the door. She looked as beautiful as she did in her wedding dress.

“Good evening your majesty” she said with a graceful curtsey.

“Hello” he replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

Y/n smiled. He was truly adorable. He looked so soft and warm in those robes. Good lord what was she thinking? She had barely met this man and yet she was acting like a teenager in love!

“Would you like to take a seat?” he offered, his voice gentle and kind. “Of course,” she replied. The two sat in silence for a moment. But it was not an awkward silence, more of a comfortable silence as the young couple took each other in.

It wasn't long before they got to talking. Two intelligent, young minds in the same room were bound to connect almost instantly. And that's just what they did.

Y/n tried to not say anything about her “world of the future”. That was until they were brought to the topic of his disease.

“So, you have no issue in being wed to a leper?” Baldwin had asked, his voice growing sad. Her heart broke for him in an instant, remembering how terribly people with his disease were treated at this time.

“Of course I don't” the doctor replied.

Her kind voice soothed something deep inside Baldwin. Something untouched for so many years. His eyes burned with tears but he dare not  let one fall.

“Really?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Of course! All I see is a beautiful, young man with a bright future. And from what I've heard, you're a wonderful ruler, and I know you will be a wonderful husband too”.

Baldwin smiled beneath the mask. He hoped she could see the smile through his eyes. Y/n took a deep breath before her next choice of words.

“You know, where I come from, lepers can be healed,” she said softly. Baldwin’s eyes widened.

“Truely?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, but you can not tell anyone”

“I won't, of course! Please, share this with me” the young king said in a hushed voice taking her hands in his.

“Alright. I'm going to need a few things to do it and it may take a while-”

“Please, y/n. I'll do anything” Baldwin was on the verge of tears now. “Now I have you, I have a reason to live. I need to live, please” he begged.

Y/n’s heart sank as his previously strong demeanor shattered into a thousand pieces before her very eyes. As gently as she could, y/n wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him into a gentle yet firm hug.

At that moment, the young doctor understood why all of this had happened. She was brought here for a reason. To cure this poor young man, to show him the love he deserves and to have a better life by his side.

“I promise Baldwin, I’ll make you well again. No matter what it takes. I'll do it”

[dellalyra]

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In

Summary: Billy Maximoff sustains an injury and Wanda comes to you, her neighbour who happens to be an ER doctor.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

For @esposadejoyhuerta - hope this week is better to us <3

Tired.

That’s all you are. You don’t even know how you manage to get home, dragging your feet through the door and dropping your bag next to the couch.

Sleep or eat?

You look between the kitchen and sofa, and the view of the cushions and the blanket you left there is far more attractive than the prospect of food.

Sleep it is.

Dropping face first on the couch, you sigh, excited at the idea of sleeping for the next few hours, until your next shift at the hospital.

You close your eyes, and don’t know how long you’ve been asleep until a desperate knock wakes you.

“Who is it?” you say, scared by the sudden noise.

“It’s Wanda”

You relax instanty, sighing with relief. Though you don’t speak regularly to your neighbours, Wanda is by far the nicest.

“Is everything ok?” as soon as you open the door, you can see her disheveled state and the fear in her eyes. “Wanda, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Billy had a little accident in the stairs and he’s in pain, I didn’t know what to do and remembered you’re a doctor”

“Come on” you let her lead the way, opening the door. As soon as you enter you can hear Billy’s cries and Tommy by his side. The boy is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, holding his right arm.

“Hey, Billy. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It hurts” is all he manages to say.

“May I examine you? You can tell me if it hurts a lot or only a little, yes?”

The boy nods, trying to calm down as you inspect his arm. At a certain movement, he flinches, and you sigh, turning to Wanda.

“He needs an X-Ray”

“Ok, I’ll take him now”

“Why don’t I drive you?” you say, thinking it might be dangerous for Wanda to get behind the wheel when she’s in so much distress. The woman nods, and you help Billy up, making sure he doesn’t move his arm.

Wanda sits with both boys in the back of your car, her hands going through Billy’s hair to calm him down.

“Sorry about the mess” you say, looking at all the junk you had in your car.

“It’s alright” she says, looking a bit more relaxed. “I’m sorry for making you drive us, you must be exhausted”

“I don’t mind at all”

You look through the rearview mirror, Wanda smiling softly and you return the gesture, feeling a bit flustered.

“I thought I told you to go home” Chief Fury says as soon as you walk through the ER.

“Uh… my neighbour’s kid got into an accident so”

“Alright, then” his threatening glare softens as soon as his eyes land on the woman walking behind you and her two kids, Billy in a wheelchair.

“He needs an X-Ray, I didn’t see signs of a concussion or any other injuries”

“Admit him, get vitals and go to imaging. Ma’am, you can wait here while Dr. Y/L/N checks on your son”

“Can’t I go with him?”

“I’m afraid not”

“It’s alright, I won’t leave him alone” you squeeze her hand, pushing Billy to the X-ray room.

Luckily it’s empty when you walk in, the technician setting everything up quickly.

“I thought your shift ended” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders.

“Shit happens”

Billy laughs and your eyes widen, forgetting you were around a child.

“Uh, maybe don’t tell your mom I said that, kid?”

“Hey, don’t do it for free. Get something in return for your silence” Darcy intervenes and you want to smack her. But Billy keeps on laughing as you argue with your friend, and it’s nice to see him smiling after being in so much pain.

Darcy whistles as soon as you look at the image of Billy’s fracture.

“Clean split”

“Yeah, he got lucky”

You figure it’s better to ask for an Ortho resident to help with the cast. Darcy keeps Billy company while you go talk to Wanda.

“Hey” you sit next to her, offering a cup of coffee you brought from the machine.

“How is he?” Wanda asks, looking at Tommy, who is sound asleep in the chair next to hers. You motion for her to stand up to talk without waking him up.

“Billy broke his arm but won’t need surgery. Just a cast for a few weeks and then we can remove it”

“I’m such an idiot” she curses and you’re taken aback by her outburst. As a trauma surgeon, you had seen your fair share of ugly situations, so a cast was one of the best outcomes all things considered.

“I shouldn’t have let them play, but it was late and I figured they just needed to run a bit more before they got tired” she goes on, hand running through her hair. You can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop” you place your hands in her arms, waiting until she looks at you. “Blaming yourself is not helping at all. Listen, kids get hurt playing, it’s practically a rite of passage. And I know it sucks and it’s scary but Billy is fine and I’m always around for anything, ok?”

“Ok” she nods and without thinking, you pull her closer, hugging her. Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, her scent pleasant and calming. You rub circles down her back and she relaxes.

“Thank you” she says, her hands still on your waist. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks, even in her disheveled state and your eyes travel to her lips.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” a resident approaches you, clearly hesitant to interrupt.

“Yeah” it takes you a second too long to look away, making Wanda blush.

“Billy is all set up” she informs you. “If Miss Maximoff filled out all the forms he’s good to go”

“Yeah, I did” the woman nods next to you, picking up her things and waking Tommy up. The resident leads you to a room where Billy is waiting for his mother. Tommy runs up to him and admires his cast, looking at the material in his brother’s arm.

“Here” you say, adjusting an armsling for him to rest. Signing his discharge and picking up some pain meds, you lead the Maximoffs out of the hospital.

By the time you park in your driveway it’s 2 AM and you have to be at the hospital in less than 12 hours.

“Come on sweetheart” Wanda tries to wake Billy, but you stand next to her and offer to carry him all the way to his room.

You’ve known Wanda for almost two years now but had never gone inside her house. As you carry the boy upstairs, you notice all the family pictures and drawings that the twins made.

“Sleep tight, little man” you say, moving aside so Wanda can remove his shoes and tuck him in. “Let me know if you need anything, ok? I’ll be home until noon”

“Oh, actually, can you wait a second for me? I’m sorry, it won’t be long”

“Sure” you nod, going down to the living room.

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or Wanda has an incredibly comfortable couch, but as soon as you sit there, you relax and drift off.

By the time Wanda tucks in both boys and comes downstairs, you’re fast asleep. The woman smiles, your features soft as you catch up on much needed sleep. Wanda pulls out a blanket and drapes it over your body, hoping you’ll finally be able to get some rest.

—

It smells amazing.

The scent of fried bacon and butter makes you open your eyes, your stomach suddenly very aware that you forgot to have dinner last night.

Looking around, you realise this isn’t your house, but it still takes a minute to remember everything. Wanda, the twins, the hospital.

“Morning” the woman says when she sees you looking confused; the way you rub the sleep off your eyes makes her heart flutter.

“Wanda, hey. Sorry, I crashed in your living room. I’ll get out of your way now”

“I’m making breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday”

“Well…” you rub your neck, stretching. You fold the blanket and walk to her, your mouth watering at the smell of everything.

“Orange juice?” she offers.

“Yeah, thanks” you take the glass. “Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough, Y/N. Come on, sit. Enjoy”

You smile sheepishly, grabbing pancakes, bacon and some jam. The first bite is so good, you let out a loud moan.

“Sorry” you blush, Wanda biting her lip curiously at the sound you just made. “These are like the best pancakes I’ve ever had”

“Thank you” she sits across from you, drinking coffee and resting her chin on her hand. “Do you have to be back to work soon?”

“Yeah, in a couple of hours. I’ve got surgery and gotta make the rounds on some patients from yesterday”

“You work too much” she admonishes in her mom voice and you laugh.

“I’ve heard that one before”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any family here and all of my friends are at the hospital, so it’s better than being home alone doing nothing”

“Not all of your friends are at the hospital” she says with a shy smile and you nod, appreciating her words.

“What about you? Anything interesting going on?”

“Aside from Billy and Tommy being pure chaos? No, that’s enough for a lifetime” she laughs, and it’s honestly the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“They’re really sweet kids. It must be hard work but you’re doing amazing with both of them, Wanda”

“Thank you” she looks down at her cup of coffee and you nod, eating the rest of your food in silence.

Wanda is about to say something else when your pager goes off.

“Oh, great” you mutter. “My surgery’s gonna be earlier. Gotta hurry up”

“Chew your food!” Wanda scolds when you began to put everything in your mouth.

“Sorry” you say, trying to slow down. Wanda rolls her eyes. “Can I at least do the dishes?”

“Fine” she concedes, and shows you where everything is. “You better eat before your surgery. Or I’ll pack you lunch”

“I promise I’ll eat” you say, rolling your eyes. Once the dishes are done you pick up your stuff and walk out the door, Wanda close behind. “Let me know if you need anything? Billy might have some discomfort but the meds should be enough. But either way, call me”

“I don’t actually have your phone number” she says, making you frown.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here” You take out a piece of paper from your pocket and scribble on it. “Anything at all, call me. Even if I’m in surgery, I’ll make sure one of the nurses answers for me”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Those pancakes were heavenly. Thank you”

It’s hard for you to say goodbye to Wanda, but you hear the twins calling and decide it’s time to go back home.

The woman gives you a nod and you reach out, squeezing her hand. You feel warm as you go back to your place.

To be honest, you’re hoping Wanda calls you, for more than just a consult.

Part 2

[firingstars]

in this life | ch. 3

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you."

warnings: 18+, mdni, no smut in this chapter, reincarnation trope, language, mentions of financial instability, memories are written with italicizes, no use of y/n, angst, yearning, longing, everyone's alive no one is dead because i said so, alternating pov's

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i wanna write a hydra doctor/nurse x winter soldier fic so bad yall

previous chapter | next chapter

“B̸͔͉̣̈́̓͆́̐ͅŭ̶̖̜͔̍̽c̴͓̰̻̅́̐́͘k̸̢͉̿̑̊͜,” you say slowly, staring at the box in his hands. You see the brand on it, the pretty logo, and the carefully tied ribbon on the front. You know exactly which boutique this is from, and where he got it– upper Manhattan in the elite folk’s area. “What is this?”

“My anniversary present to you, pretty girl,” he chuckles, placing the box on the table. “You didn’t forget, did you? It’s tomorrow, if you did.”

How could you forget? You had the date marked on the calendar with a heart, and you stared at it every morning. One full year around the sun with him, after spending your entire life right by his side. One full year of you finally being able to call him yours. 

“C’mere, doll,” he hums, reaching for your hand to come closer, to come inspect his present. “I have other things planned for you, but this can’t wait. I’m giving it to you a day early since I want you to wear it for me when we go out tomorrow. We’re going dancing later in the night, and I want everyone to see how pretty you are.”

“You bought me a dress from Sally’s?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “How expensive–”

“Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll do anything for you,” he cuts you off, cupping your face in a hand. “Swear, baby, I made sure that the rest of our finances wouldn’t be affected because of this. It’s all yours to enjoy.”

He undoes the red bow carefully, then opens up the box for you to examine the dress for yourself. Your breath gets caught in your throat, almost afraid to let your oxygen even get close to it.

He got you a beautiful sky blue dress with white accents. The fabric was soft on your fingers, and you could see the subtle lace adornments that were done by hand and not machine. Moreover, you could see the sweat and labor he put into it– to get you this dress.

The late nights and early mornings for the past month and a half suddenly made sense. He was working more at the shop, coming home exhausted and smelling like oil and grease before you shoved him into the shower to freshen up so you could feed him dinner. He told you that it was because one of the guys got sick, and they needed someone to pull the weight. 

He’d been coming home, sounding exhausted, muscles wound up and tight with tension and pain from the amount he was working, but he never complained. Instead, he held you tighter at night, kissed you a little harder, and still whispered sweet nothings into your ear as if you strung up the stars in the sky just for him to view.

You turn away quickly, ignoring the brief feel of confusion and panic radiating off of your lover’s body. Instead, you go into the hallway closet, digging up a box that you had hidden under a few other loose items and return to him.

In the time that you thought he was being called to work more, you had also begun your own little project at home. You were able to work a few extra shifts as well to buy some nicer fabric, and decided to make him a new suit.

After all, you knew his measurements by heart. Whenever his clothes got a rip or tear, you would be the one fixing or adjusting his clothes. He would always tell you to leave it alone, but you never would. You would wait until he passed out from exhaustion then creep out into the living room to quietly mend his ripped clothes. Even in this past month and a half, you would fix up his clothes as his body grew larger from packing on more muscle from working longer and harder hours, you still continued to adjust your skills.

“It’s not as nice as the dress– but I made you a new suit. Your old one had some holes and stuff,” you tell him, eyes going watery. “I guess we can both look our best tomorrow for whatever date you have planned.”

He’s staring at you. You think his mouth is agape, but you can’t fully tell with the blur of his features. Then, you’re being scooped up into his arms as he spins you, showering you with kisses and love that make you forget your tears.

“You’re too good for me,” he tells you, a bit breathless. “I love you, you know that?”

“If anyone’s too good– it’s you,” you say with a laugh, cupping his face with your hands as you nod. He’s still holding you against his body, carrying you towards the bedroom. “You always take care of me, and do it so quietly.”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. For him, it is. “Never wanna see you sad or struggling, doll. You can rely on me. I’ll make sure the world can never hurt you even if I’m not right next to you.”

You giggle, then press a kiss to his lips. “The world could never keep me apart from you.”

Bucky finally took it upon himself to find out what happened to you after he left for war and never came back. Just as Steve said, you never settled down. There were no lovers, no flings, certainly no children. The closest you had to a family was Peggy, Peggy’s family, and a cat that you adopted closer to the end of your life. At the very least, Bucky felt the comfort of knowing that you weren’t totally alone throughout your life.

Other than that, you spent all your time by yourself. You went home to an empty apartment every night after work, you slept by yourself. You woke up, made breakfast for one, and faced the changing world on your own.

Peggy had come onto your doorstep after Steve had disappeared into the ice, informing you of both of their deaths. The two of you worked hard to make something out of the legacy Steve and Bucky left behind. 

While Bucky went through old files from the beginning of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had your name on it, Steve had visited him. Brought him an old box with your name written on the top of it.

“Before she died, she gave Peggy all her valuables,” Steve said softly. “And when I met Peggy again, she gave them to me. I’ve kept them here in the compound– I figured it would be better here than you accidentally finding them in our apartment.”

Bucky kept the box in the compound for a few days. He wasn’t ready to touch it, to go through whatever you deemed was valuable. Then, one day, he found the box was waiting for him on his bed. Steve must have brought it back home, quietly urging him to face his past. So, Bucky did. He slowly unboxed the memories, going through each item with caution.

Inside was an old teddy bear that he won you at the fair from your very first date together. You two had hung out often before, by yourselves without Steve, but this was different. This was after you both had revealed your feelings. Bucky remembered spending an entire five dollars trying to get you this bear, and how you tried stopping him from spending more and more, but he couldn’t let you walk out of that date empty handed. 

You laughed and called him insane for spending that amount of money on you, but he always told you that there wasn’t a price on the love that he had for you. Bucky would never forget the way your eyes glinted against the starlight. You had that teddy bear on your nightstand every night once you two shared an apartment, a quiet reminder of everything he promised you and more. 

A majority of the box were filled with handwritten notes that Bucky had given you over the years, some ranging from short and sweet things just letting you know he stepped out to grab some groceries to full on poems for you. He didn’t even know that you had all of these saved. 

A few of them were tear stained, and his chest clenched at the sight. He could imagine you, in your old age, going through the letters and notes late at night. He could see it clearly– a future where he was supposed to grow old with you, where you both were supposed to read your old letters together and laugh. Your future ended with you alone, preserving memories like a lifeline.

He found his original pair of dog tags in the box, carefully taken care of. There was no sign of rusting or wear or tear– you were gentle with them the entirety of your life. His heart ached at the thought of it, holding the small and fragile metal in his flesh hand as he thought about a life before everything had happened to him. 

Bucky found a scrap of fabric and lace cut from the dress he bought you from the first anniversary the two of you had together. He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. You cried that day as he held you in bed. You kept thanking him for the gift, as if you didn’t hand make him an entire suit in your free time without him knowing. All he did was buy something from a store. 

He found a locket, one that you used to wear around your neck. One that he gave you– one that had a picture of the two of you. He had his arms wrapped around you, his head pressed against yours. Both of you were smiling.

There were a couple more photos of the two of you in the box. He picked one up, his heart hammering loud in his chest as he stared at it. Though it was old, he could still make out every single one of your features. He remembered this day– the two of you saved enough money to get a professional picture taken together instead of something done in a fair. You were smiling softly at the camera, but he was looking at you. 

Bucky slipped the picture into his wallet, careful with the old material. He used to carry this picture with him everywhere. He decided he would do it again. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky looked up. His friend was standing at the door, leaning against the doorframe. 

“How is it not her?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking. He was fighting back the tears. The grief. The sorrow and the pain that he had carefully trained to hide away since he had finally gotten a hold of his mind once more. “She was– you saw her, Steve. She looks exactly the same.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve said, clenching his jaw. Bucky saw the pain on Steve’s face– you were Steve’s friend, too. The three of you were inseparable. Where Bucky was a pain in your ass growing up, Steve was the glue that held you both together until Bucky grew up. 

“Even the way she holds a pen is the same,” Bucky said, and he thought he sounded crazy– but it was the truth. When you took their order, he watched you. Every single movement, every breath, every blink. You were the same. “She spells her name the same, her posture is the same, the way she talks is the same– everything is the same, Steve.”

It was as if you stepped out of the forties and re-entered his life in the modern world again.

“She recognized us,” Steve said, letting out a breath before shaking his head, “but not… us.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands, trying to calm himself down. “I looked into her ancestors. She doesn’t have any ties to… to the version we know. None. How does this make sense?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered, and Bucky’s shoulders slumped. 

He let his hands drop, his eyes fixating on the box in front of him again. These were your most valuable possessions– and all of them had something to do with himself. Bucky wanted to scream, but his body wouldn’t let him. All he could do was sit there in silence, hot tears streaming down his face.

Your head is pounding from the seminar. It wasn’t mandatory for you to attend by any means, but it was good for you to have it on your resume for future references. It was information that you already knew, already had researched on your own time. At the very least, you would be able to get some extra credit from the professor that had let you know about the lecture.

Stepping out into the New York street, you checked the time on your phone. You didn’t have to get to the diner for another handful of hours. You were hungry, and you had some cup ramen in your pantry that was calling your name. If you rushed, you would be able to catch the subway to get back to your side of the city as soon as possible, giving you a chance to study and unwind before you went back to work.

You walked down the street, your eyes doing the same thing they always did.

They scanned the faces of strangers. You looked people up and down, seeing if their build was similar to the man in your dreams. You knew your attempts were futile. You knew you would never find him, not when he wasn’t even real to begin with.

You let out a sigh. You had long stopped being disappointed after failing to find someone that matched your dreams. Still, you couldn’t fight the small hurt in your chest. You stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light to alert you that it was okay to cross with the rest of the pedestrians beside you. You let your gaze wander once more, and your heart stuttered.

On an outside patio, you saw him. He wasn’t alone– he was with his friend, enjoying a lunch together in the middle of the city at a nice restaurant. When the light turned, your feet were moving before you could stop yourself. 

You drop your textbooks and notebooks in front of the two super soldiers, both men jostling in surprise to look up at you. You don’t blame them– you did just crash their lunch without a single word of arrival. You dragged a spare chair from another table to theirs, taking a seat. You took in a sharp breath, ignoring the thumping in your chest as you crossed your arms.

“Which one of you harassed Tony Stark into creating an entirely new scholarship that only has me as the recipient?” you asked, eyebrows raised at both of them. 

You went home and did another round of research on Stark Foundation scholarships after your phone call with Peter. You found your specific scholarship at the very end of the list– newly added, with no other information on how to even qualify for the scholarship. It hadn’t existed before.

You even pressed Peter to get a meeting with the infamous Tony Stark, who had been avoiding your emails like the plague. Peter, bless his heart and soul, was caught in the middle. It really wasn’t fair to him, but you were at your wits end. You were being given something that wasn’t meant for you– and it felt wrong.

Both men shared a look. Steve lowered his sandwich, clearing his throat before he decided to let his gaze wander away. Bucky looked a lot more interested in a bird that landed nearby, nipping at a few crumbs on the ground. 

“Was the ten grand not enough?” you whispered, reeling. “That money– it’s more than enough for the tuition for the rest of the year.”

“Did you use it yet?” Bucky asked, finally looking back at you. You blinked at him, taken aback.

“Why would I use it?” you asked, scandalized.

“Because it was your tip. For excellent customer service.”

“No, I didn’t use it! I’ve been waiting for you to come back to my damn diner so I could give it back!” you exclaimed at him. 

“Pity. Really liked your pancakes there. Guess I can’t come back,” Bucky sighed. Steve nodded in agreement, both men beginning to continue eating their lunch.

“Are you serious?” you asked, eyes wide in disbelief. You watch as Bucky flags over the waitress to come by.

“Can we get another club sandwich?” he asked, watching the waitress write down the order. Then he pauses, quickly adding, “Ah, don’t add any pickles though. Extra green peppers. And a raspberry iced tea, please.”

“Did you run intelligence on my favorite foods, too? And the foods I don’t like?” you asked, frowning at him. 

“Made an educated guess,” Bucky tells you, a smile forming onto his lips. It’s faint, but you can see the corners of his lips turn up. There’s something distant in his eyes, but it quickly goes away as he returns to his sandwich. You can’t help but stare a bit longer at him. You want to etch his features into your memories so you can never have the chance to forget this face again.

Again? 

“You’re not denying that you ran a background check on me,” you quickly said, shoving away the nagging thoughts in your head.

“How else would we have gotten your name for that scholarship? We also needed to see what your field of study was so that Stark could grant you a fitting title, too,” Bucky said. Steve nodded once more, like some sort of yes man. 

You were in shock. Disbelief. Not only wasn’t he denying it, he was confirming it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had your social security number at this point. You slumped back in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes tight. You took a deep breath, trying to control your temper. 

“Why me?” you asked, voice a bit tired. None of this is making sense to you.

“You gave us a complimentary dinner,” Steve answered immediately, giving you a small shrug.

“I don’t think a bill that cost less than fifty dollars warrants paying for my entire schooling and a twenty thousand percent tip,” you said dryly. 

“You deserve it,” Bucky replied with another shrug. The sandwich and your drink came out relatively fast, and he moves to organize your books out of the way so you can eat. “You haven’t had lunch yet, right?”

“Did your intelligence background check on me say that, too?” you frowned at him, though the sandwich is calling for you. Your stomach growls right on cue, both men smiling a bit as Steve pushes the food closer to you. 

Bucky lets out a soft laugh, and shakes his head.

“No, doll. It’s just a little past noon,” he told you, and your heart stutters in your chest. 

“Doll?” you repeated, watching him pause.

“Old forties habit,” he quickly dismissed, and you glance at Steve. He’s pretending to not even be here, in this conversation. “Sorry. I’m sure it made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that…” you trailed off, blinking at your sandwich. “I just have a lot of dreams of someone calling me that. I think I just got surprised, I guess.”

You let out a small breath and begin to eat lunch. There’s a silence amongst the three of you that you can’t really place. It’s not awkward, by any means, which feels somewhat strange. This is the first true conversation that you’ve had with either of the men outside of a working environment, but it feels comfortable– like this is right. Like you’ve been in a similar situation before, just eating lunch together in the middle of New York’s busy streets.

“Dreams, huh?” Bucky finally murmured.

“Yeah. Dreams… Think it's in the forties. I never see his face, though. I can hear him and feel him, but I never remember his name when I wake up. I think I might’ve watched a show when I was younger or let my grandpa’s stories from the forties get ingrained too deeply in my head as a kid,” you said, trying to joke. Except, it really isn’t a joke to you. 

Thinking about your dreams on a deeper level rather than just accepting it as a fact of your own life makes your head hurt. There was a time when you had poured each dream into a journal, tried dissecting each scene, but only ended up in tears that you couldn’t explain. The sense of loss was too heavy. You didn’t know what you were grieving. You didn’t know who you were grieving for.

“Thor says reincarnation is possible,” Steve suddenly spoke, both of you looking at him. “I’m sure it’s not just an Asgard thing. Maybe it’s a past life of yours.”

“Steve,” Bucky muttered. You can hear the warning in his voice, and you’re not sure why there even has to be a warning.

“I thought about that,” you said, and you meant it. You take another bite of your sandwich then cringe at the sudden vinegary taste in your mouth. “I don’t really think it’s true, though.”

There's a slice of pickle slice in there. You pull apart the bread to inspect, certain to find even more pickles throughout the sandwich. You’re about to fish them out yourself, when Bucky’s hand moves. He’s already peeling them off, and adding it to his sandwich, like it’s second nature to him.

Because it is, a voice whispers in the back of your head, followed by a sudden ache. 

You clear your throat, pushing down the tightness in your chest.

“If it is a past life, then that’s kinda sad,” you finally said, letting out another slow breath. 

“What’s so sad about it?” Steve questioned.

“She– maybe me– misses him. The man I dream about, the life that possibly could have been mine,” you shrug, watching the perspiration on the raspberry iced tea slip down the glass. “I wake up feeling like there’s someone missing, and I don’t even know who to look for.”

You don’t even know why you’re voicing these thoughts out loud. The last time you ever said anything remotely similar was back in middle school, when you saw a therapist for the first and last time before deciding to lie to your parents and tell them that you were fixed. 

There’s something natural about the way you feel here, with them. The way Steve’s eyes watch you like he sees something beyond your words. He nods thoughtfully, taking in every single sentence you speak.

And Bucky. He looks like he would rip the world in half if you asked him to. At your words, he seems conflicted. There’s a storm raging behind his eyes that you can’t place, but you find yourself feeling the same sense of longing. You want to touch his face, rub your fingers over the crease between his brows, and reassure him that you’re okay. That what you’re feeling will pass, as it always does. 

You’re not even sure why you feel the itch to reach for him.

“Anyways,” you said, clearing your throat. “I hope it’s not a past life. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it is. The soldier’s probably long gone, don’t you think?”

“You never know,” Steve said softly.

“You tell me,” you said, giving him a smile. “How many of your World War II veteran friends are still around today?”

Steve paused, then looked at Bucky. “There’s one right there.”

You glanced at the man, too. He was still looking at you, hanging on to every single word that passed through your lips like it was a lifeline. 

“What do you think?” you asked him. “You think my soul has been recycled and brought back to this earth for a second run?”

Bucky stares at you. You hold his gaze. It’s not uncomfortable to be watched by him, you realize. If anything, you feel at ease. There isn’t an ounce of judgement in his eyes, even though you said some crazy things that have made doctors look at you sideways before. Then, you watch as his shoulders shift as he finally breathes.

“Finish your food,” he grunts, tearing his eyes away from you to go back to his meal as well.

You let your eyes linger on his figure for a few more moments before you went back to your sandwich. The three of you ate in silence for the remainder of the lunch. New York continued to buzz all around you, but none of you seemed to comment or mind it. Once again, you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that this was right. That this was where you were supposed to be.

When the check came, neither man let you see it. 

“Our treat. Since you paid for our dinner,” Steve said.

“Do I have to remind you guys about that insane tip?” you asked wearily.

“Then my treat,” Steve shrugged. “Bucky left that, not me.”

“I still won’t take it back, by the way,” Bucky added.

You slumped a bit in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. You could tell he was serious from the look in his eyes, though you didn’t have any real prior knowledge as to why you knew this. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, checking the time. You still had enough time to get home to study a bit. You had a presentation tomorrow to defend your field of study, and you needed to go over your notes.

Just thinking about it made you frown– one of the ethics professors really despised your choice of work, after all. You couldn’t blame her. When you really thought about it, you were going into the memories of a person to dissect what made their memories traumatic to be able to restore parts of a person that they may have lost in whatever scenario they were in. 

This professor had been arguing with you since you chose this study to pursue, and you had been fighting back ever since. You’ve been consistently proving your point. You even took more humanities classes than necessary to prove to the scientific board that you weren’t inhumane in your approach with your study– that you were doing this in order to help other humans. Of course, at the end of the day, you understood that there would always be people that had issues with change.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, and you gave him a tight smile.

“Just thinking about a project, and a teacher who might try to fail me. If she does, I might end up repeating the semester,” you said with a deep sigh. “Then that scholarship you two got me would be for nothing.”

“She sounds horrible,” Steve commented, and you caught the look that both men shared. Your eyes widened slightly.

“Please don’t get her fired with whatever connections you two have,” you quickly said, sitting up straight. “It’s fine– if I can’t prove my research to her, then I won’t make it once I graduate. So just– it’s fine, okay?”

“If you say so,” Steve said, sitting back in his seat. You let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes briefly. 

“Well,” you said, standing up. “It was really nice seeing you both again. I do have to finalize my notes for my project though, so I gotta get going.”

“Good luck. You’ll do great,” Steve told you, giving you a small smile.

Bucky shifted, grabbing all your textbooks and notebooks off the table. He organized them into a neat stack, and handed them over to you. You smiled gratefully at him, reaching to take the books from him. 

Your fingers brushed against his, a shock of electricity rushing through your body at the small touch. You flinched, almost dropping all of your things. Thankfully, Bucky still had a good hold of all of the books, holding on tighter to everything.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asked again, but this time for a different reason.

“Great,” you forced out, taking your things from him. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said with a single nod. 

“And thank you for lunch,” you quickly added. “I really appreciated it.”

“Of course,” Steve grinned at you.

You took one more long look at both super soldiers before you picked up your bag from the chair, slinging it over your shoulder. You walked away, feeling heavier than before. Each step felt harder than the last, like walking away was the last thing that you should be doing. You made it down the block before the urge to turn around was too strong.

They were already gone.

next chapter

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[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere!Curly x Captain!M!Reader

1: Sanitized (~1k words)

Cw: Canon typical violence, my headcannons for post-crash Curly's wounds, no beta we close our eyes, body horror, lots of painkillers

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

It had been only a few hours after saving a man from a three decade old craft when you’d determined that he was going to be under your primary care, aside from medical, from now on.

The man, as you’d discovered, was in fact the captain of the Tulpar. Upon inspection of his wounds, which only occurred back at the ship and with him sedated, Rhodes discovered the harrowing truth that he’d been in a state of third degree full-body burns for over four months. Worse still, he had one half-functional eye with the eyelid burnt shut though the other was severely dry, eyelidless, but still in surprisingly good condition.

Immediately, Rhodes ordered someone to get the passenger’s company issued bio-fabricator, a critical technology with the ability to take biological elements and grow genetically similar (but not identical) copies.

Technically, it was reserved for creating more plants or animals in a biosphere lacking most of the required succession elements, but it’d be easy to grow supplemental skin, hair, and blood to perfectly match the burnt man’s body. He also ordered silver sulfadiazine cream to soothe the initial burns, and for the first time since the man was in the accident he seemed to not be in agony.

──────────────────────

You sat beside the man. He still had his tongue and vocal cords, so he could talk (with much effort), but he was fully deaf so you had a captioning machine set up for him to read your words. Once he awoke, you silently showed him your badge with your name, picture, and title, which he read and nodded once he was done.

“Are you able to talk, sir? We need your name,” you said softly, watching as your head doctor, Rhodes, finally replaced the sticky, deteriorating bandages that practically cemented to his raw flesh. Luckily, the man was unable to feel it with how numb his entire body was.

He nodded weakly, eye never straying from you for long, and coughed. He spat up blood and saliva, to which you gently swiped a rag across his chin to remove it. “It’s okay. Take your time. This is Rhodes, he’s your doctor for now, but one of the passengers here is also a cosmetic surgeon and can start skin grafts once you’re ready.”

You sat back to give the man some space and idly wondered if the bio-fabricator could make enough connective tissues, nerves, and muscles to give him back his limbs. Rhodes left after replacing his arms and legs bandages, and soon the man tapped your resting hand with one of his handless arms and you looked back at him.

“C…url…y,” he rasped out. His volume was lacking, but he couldn’t hear himself so it was to be excpected.

“Curly? Is that your name?”

He nodded weakly. You spoke again, “Curly. Okay, and can you answer a couple questions for me? Shake or nod your head, if you can’t talk.”

Curly nodded, and you began questions. “Were you the captain of the freighter I found you on?” Nod. “Were there exactly five people, counting you?” Nod. “Did the crash do this to you?” Nod.

“Was the crash on purpose?”

He hesitated, then nodded very minutely.

“Did you–” you were cut off. “Jim…my,” he croaked. Well, it sounded more like ‘Jenny’ on account of his lack of lips, but you got the gist. “Jimmy crashed the ship?” Nod. “Did the crew know that?” Shake.

“Shit.” Nod. You chuckled at the nod and he looked up, like he was proud of making you laugh.

“So… do you have your ID with you?” you asked, and he produced a fresh ID from a lanyard under his gown. “Huh. Did Jimmy put that on you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Was he your friend?” A weak nod. “Do you know why he went batshit? I mean, he’s the only one who could have killed all of your crewmates.” Curly tilted his head like he was wondering what you were asking. You rambled too fast for the machine to pick up. “Oh, yeah. Do you know of a motive?” Shake.

You glanced from the ID card to his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes. You notice there’s something written on the back, but the handwriting is awful. “Um, it looks like Jimmy tried to give me instructions and told a five year old scribe. Can you decipher this?” You asked, showing him the text. Shake. “Fine, I guess. It’s good you have this, facial reconstruction can probably get you pretty close to your face from then.”

He shrugged and laid back, gazing at you. “Wait…” he gasped. “‘lease.” Please.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” He pleaded, using what remained of his forearm to lock around your arm and keep you (only barely) in place. “’m… s…cared."

“Scared?” You echoed, settling back into your chair and placing a hand on his thigh. “You’re safe here. Everyone who goes in and out of here has high clearance and I know them all personally.” Even still, Curly shook his head. “‘lease,” he echoed.

“I… suppose I could get Sealegs to move my desk into here. Would that be good?” Nod. Nod. Nod. “This is Captain to Sealegs, Sealegs, do you copy?”

“I copy. Whatcha need?” Sealegs hummed. The sound of a familiar video game caught your attention.

“Quit playing Snake on government computers, first of all. Wheel my workbench to the medbay,” you requested, only endearingly annoyed at your nephew. After a few minutes, a young boy with the same eyes and hair as you came in with a rolling desk equipped with robotics equipment, soldering items, and more. Curly seemed to relax once you situated beside him and the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Curly, can I take some measurements of you?” You asked after a couple minutes. “Arms and legs,” you added. Nod. Curly lifted up a handless arm and waited for you to start, to which you took diameter and circumference of his arm, approximate length, shape of the amputation, and more. You did the same for the other arm and both legs, then you sat back down to work.

──────────────────────

In a few minutes, you put your higher education to use and attached a crude prosthetic to his leg, but since he was numbed to hell it wasn’t causing him any pain. You worked, he watched, and soon he fell asleep painlessly for the first time in probably a half of a year or so, for him at least.

Once he stopped coughing every time you looked away for too long, you were able to get some work done and sent off an update to your boss–you told him that you had a new crew member on board, that you authorized the use of the bio-fabricator, and that you’d pay for his medical costs. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Curly that. Feeling indebted to someone is a terrible thing.

You were in for a long night. You wanted to give him the most mobility possible, but it’d be up to him ultimately to use them. The least you could do is build him the choice.

┌───────────────────────┐

I’m not happy with this, but if I didn’t get it out now it’d rot forever :( thank you to everyone who’s left kind words and reblogs and likes!! It means so much and if youve left any asks I’m so sorry but tumblr SAYS i have 6 asks but none show up :(((

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 9

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: As you try to figure out a plan and try to understand the machine used to control the Winter Soldier, you're hit with the fear of disappearing. Longing to be known, you share a kind moment with the Soldier.

Warnings: Captivity, angst, mention of torture and death, longing, helplessness, mention of Siberia, and more angst. Sad Bucky.

Authors Note: Please enjoy, comment and be kind! I love the comments and interaction. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Song Rec: Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

The cold glint of steel. 

A faded red star. 

Painfully blue eyes. 

Calloused fingers that twitched when you pulled too far away. 

Cold skin marred with scars. 

A gentle frown, pressed together softly by blushed lips.

You wanted to burn every small detail of the Soldier into your brain. You wanted to remember it, remember him. You feared you didn’t have long. You tried to draw out your research as you worked on the indefinite cure to his degeneration, but your captors grew impatient. 

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to disappear. 

“My favorite color is red.” You blurted, your gaze following the line of wires across the back of the Soldier’s chair. 

He shifted, turning his head slightly to signal he was listening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, biting on the soft inside of your cheek. “I like red.”

What you were doing was dangerous. You knew that. But you couldn’t stop. 

“I like a lot of things.” You huffed, trying not to shake under the sudden burst of anxiety you felt. You moved behind the Soldier, eyeing the power box behind his chair.

In the days when you were sent to clean up the Soldier- cleaning his suit, his wounds, basic care- you tried your best to investigate the machine he sat on. 

From what you’d seen, it was some sort of electroshock therapy on steroids. The technology was foreign to you, but its intention was clear. It was built to restrain and torment. It was designed to suppress memories and induce a state of pliancy. 

It was the perfect tool for mental conditioning. 

There were several monitors that you had become familiar with, each reflecting the Soldier’s vitals and scans. Beneath the monitors were several switches and dials, meant to control the flow of electricity. 

“I like a lot of things,” you repeated. Between the fear you felt for your charge and the doom you felt hanging over your future, you felt the need to be known. “I hate a lot of things too. I can be really opinionated.” Your voice trailed on, fighting against the shake in your body. 

The Soldier watched you inspect the mechanics and tangle of wires, listening silently as you trailed on anxiously. He knew as well as you did that there was little hope in what you were doing. You knew this. You knew there was no point in him believing that you could help him. Why would he? He’d spent decades helpless under their torture. 

You tried to feel confident in yourself, but ultimately your only hope of making a difference was breaking the high tech machine. The only solid plan you had was giving the soldier a window to escape. A window to regain some sense of understanding of his own mind. 

But even then, they still had those trigger words. The ones used so easily that day when your throat had been the victim of the Winter Soldier. 

“I used to journal a lot, back home. I always had so much to say and- and nowhere to put it all.” Usually, spilling details about your life to a man after a long bout of silence would be embarrassing, but not with him. Not here. Not now. 

Not when he knew why you were doing it. 

“I like music- I really like music. My friends and I were hoping to go to a music festival in the summer, before all of this.” You went on, holding yourself up on the mechanical device in front of you. “I had good friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. 

The Soldier looked over his shoulder at you, dark hair framing his tormented expression. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t want you to. He wanted to listen. He wanted to hear about what a life could be like outside of all this pain and death. He wanted to know who you were before this. 

“What else?” He offered, the low timber of his voice soft and gentle.

You blinked back ill timed tears. “There’s- There’s so much.” You whispered. “I had so much life- before.” 

“I know,” his throat bobbed, his lips tugged into a frown. 

And he did. He knew someone like you must have lived a good life. A life of laughter and tears, of good and bad in all the right ways. He knew you must have been happy. 

A part of him wished he could reach into himself and find that. He knew he must have been something once. He must have laughed. He must have been happy.

He must have been someone once. 

But it was too far, too dark and too easy to slip through his fingers. He could try and try, but he couldn’t touch the warmth he must have once felt, years ago.

“I always wanted to travel. I never did though, stupid, right?” You huffed, sinking into your chair at your desk. “Did you? Do you know?”

His gaze shifted to the space between you, his head slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

“Where have you been?”

“Siberia, Russia.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head at him. “I bet it's nice there. Watching the sun peak over the snow caps. I bet the air tastes sharp there.” You whispered wistfully.

He didn’t agree. His shoulders sank as he stared at you pick at your nails. “I didn’t see much of the sun.” He whispered, a cold shiver trailing down his back. 

“Oh.”

You couldn’t help the bitter, dry sob that clawed its way up your throat. Of course he didn’t see it. They would never let him experience something so innocent. 

Your eyes met, and for a moment you both were silent. 

The two of you shared a fragile second of understanding. All you wanted was to be known. To be remembered. You didn’t want to disappear. You didn’t want to fade into the unknown, with nothing left of you.

And he, who was already gone, already lost to the world, wanted to be known. He wanted to be something. Someone. He wanted to have something for himself, something to hold and cradle and call his own. He wanted to be alive. 

But you both knew it was fruitless. 

It was impossible. 

So together you sat, sharing a second of understanding.

A/N: I'm sorry for sooo much angst :D But I hope you enjoy. This is the tipping point. Let me know if you wanna be apart of the tag list!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05

[oopsiedaisydeer]

back again? ...in which matt keeps showing up to the ER, totally injured

word count - 450ish

The ER was quieter than usual, a rare lull in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. You were halfway through your second cup of vending machine coffee, lukewarm, vaguely metallic, when the nurse at triage buzzed in over the intercom.

“Doctor? We’ve got a firefighter out here asking for you specifically.”

You didn’t even need the name.

With a slow exhale, you turned toward the double doors just in time to see him striding in, all smug and smudged, a gauze-wrapped hand raised in a lazy wave.

“Let me guess,” you said, arms folding. “Smoke inhalation? Another burn? Or did you twist your ankle heroically carrying a cat down a tree?”

Matt grinned, boyish and unbothered. “Sprained wrist,” he said. “Slipped on a puddle.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Of water or your own ego?”

He chuckled, cradling the wrist with dramatically exaggerated care. “Yours, probably. I was still thinking about how rude you were the last time I came in.”

“Matt, you scaled a tree in crocs to rescue my cat like spiderman… and now you’re here because you tripped.”

“It was raining.”

“It wasn’t.”

He tilted his head. “Was cloudy.”

You sighed. “Come on, Tarzan. Let’s take a look at your ‘injury.’”

Matt sat down the moment you pulled the curtain closed, making a point of sitting down with a little wince. “Careful. I’m very fragile.”

“You’re very dramatic.”

“You say that like it’s not part of my charm.”

You took his hand carefully, inspecting the swelling. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose.”

He tilted his head. “Doing what?”

“Getting hurt. Coming here.”

“Wow,” he said, voice dropping into a low, mock-serious register. “Are you accusing me of self-sabotage just so I can see you again, Doc?”

You didn’t look up, but he saw the corners of your mouth twitch.

“Of course not,” you said. “That would be… what’s the word?—pathetic.”

Matt leaned in a little. “Maybe I just think you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was borderline medical. “I’m not flattered,” you muttered. You grabbed his wrist, a little less gentle than usual.

He winced. “Ow.”

“You’re fine.”

“You’re cold.”

“Don’t make me revoke your ice pack privileges.”

Matt grinned and leaned back a little, eyes scanning the room. “You know,” he said slowly, “for someone who keeps telling me to leave, you’re awfully gentle with my hand.”

You dropped it instantly. “And you’re discharged.”

He stood up, rotating his wrist dramatically. “Miraculous.”

“Don’t come back.”

“No promises.”

Matt turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder. “Give Mochi my best.”

You froze. “How do you—”

“Good memory.” 

He winked. You almost threw a tongue depressor at him.

creds to rose for the dividers!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: i hope you like this guys sjdbsbsdjh!!

taglist: @chrisspussygang @courta13 @snoopychris @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @matts-girlfriend @chrislova @hereforshits-snd-gigglesd @applecidersturniolo @sturnl0ve

[xerrorch]

Walls of Ice

synopsis: zayne and you have eased into a simple routine under the vague title of a relationship. however, the comfortable ease of your friendship and zayne’s metaphorical prevent you two from crossing a very important boundary…

warnings: just some angst, making out, and suggestive language. no beta read, we die like men

pairings: zayne x mc (you)

word count: 2.8k~

author’s note: this is a fic i made for my friend and i decided to post it here for the first time. and yes this is based off of his nightly rendezvous card. also, requests are always open if you want something specific so enjoy!

The hospital was quiet tonight, which meant another calm day for Dr. Zayne.

You sighed with relief as you entered onto the Protocore Incidents floor, where his office was. Only the occasional beeping from machines in patients’ rooms and the quiet chatter of nurses filled the air, and your heart ironically felt a little lighter.

He was working extra hard lately, and you were grateful it wasn’t a hard night for him. You wanted to surprise him by coming by the hospital instead of waiting for him back at his house like usual; your shift at the Hunter’s Association ended early anyway.

You approached his office door and knocked on it gently. It was a few seconds before you heard his deep timbre echoing through the wooden door.

“Enter,” he said. So formal.

You sighed and shook your head with a smile as you moved to open the door.

“Dr. Zayne?” You called to him gently as you poked your head in. “I’m here for my appointment.”

He recognized your voice immediately, his head snapping up from his mountain of paperwork and meeting your eyes. There was a flicker of surprise on his face before it was quickly schooled, which made you chuckle.

Always so put together, and now you were here to help him relax.

“Hi,” you said softly, slinking into the room and shutting his office door quietly behind you. Zayne took off his glasses for a moment and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his eyes overworked and tired.

“Am I late?” Zayne asked with a sigh before placing his glasses back over his nose. “I’m sorry if I am; this paperwork needs to get done.”

You hummed and slowly approached his desk, hands behind your back as you leaned forward and inspected the text of one of the papers piled on his desk. You don’t understand a single word, with everything being written in medical terms and in the obvious scratchy handwriting of a doctor.

“And when are these reports due, Doctor?” You asked him knowingly, glancing up at him and tilting your head at him.

He frowned as you saw right through him, clicking his pen twice before breaking your gaze to continue writing. “Next week.”

You sighed and rounded his desk, fingers trailing along the wood as you walked.

“Zayne, you need a break,” you said a little pleadingly, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder. You shook it gently and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. “I admit that this wing wouldn’t be here without your hard work, but it also won’t fall apart if you clock out on time tonight.”

Zayne’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before opening again, a deep breath filling his lungs. He continued writing.

“You know as well as I do how much my case load has increased,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the paper. You paused at his words, heart thudding against your chest.

More incidents involving protocore explosions and manipulated protocores had seen a spike recently. You were almost as busy as Zayne some days, with fluctuation after fluctuation calling you out to the field. It was exhausting for everyone on this end involving protocores, but with Zayne by your side, you had managed to find time to take care of yourself in all this chaos.

As a result, though, Zayne retreated more and more into this little office on the Protocore Incidents floor of the hospital, working late into the night and always remaining on call. It made your heart ache for him.

“I know,” you said quietly, reluctantly. “But you're the type to not take your own advice.”

He was constantly reminding you to take care of yourself, to leave work as the second most important thing to worry about. However, he never took his own advice or placed his work on the backburner.

Zayne shook his head and stood up from his desk, taking a stack of papers over to a file cabinet in the corner of his office. He opened a drawer and picked out a folder, neatly placing the papers inside it.

“MC, you know that I sometimes cannot leave on time,” he said, keeping his head down as he rifled through his file cabinet.

You frowned at that. There he went again putting other things before himself.

You had known this man since you were a child, saw him grow into a handsome, successful, smart doctor. He had always kept a distance between his friends and his personal life and issues.

However, now that you two were in— well, you supposed you could call it a relationship— Zayne still maintained that stubborn wall from childhood. It bothered you sometimes, especially when he was set on working late like this.

“Zayne, cmon, I know you,” you said softly, even though a part of you just wanted to shake him to get it through his head. You approached him as he stood at the file cabinet. “I know that you’re already a week ahead on all your reports.”

Zayne frowned again, his brow furrowed. It was a telltale sign that you were right.

He doesn’t say anything so you take the lead again, placing a hand on his forearm and moving closer to him.

“Let’s go home,” you said gently. “You need the rest.”

You didn’t expect him to relent that easily, but that’s exactly what happened. He released a little huff of air before placing the folder back into the cabinet and shutting it. You smiled, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story as to his behavior.

“Let’s go, then,” he said quietly, moving behind his desk to pluck his jacket off of the back of his chair. He shrugged it on as you placed your mittens back on your hands, getting ready to go.

The way back was quiet as Zayne waved goodnight to his coworkers and led you down to the lobby. He was as always the gentleman, a gentle hand placed on the small of your back, but there was something beneath that cold expression; you knew it.

And the security guard at the front desk only made the tense atmosphere worse by calling after you two: “I’m surprised to see you out so early tonight, Dr. Zayne. Have a good night!”

His body instantly tensed as he pulled out the keys to his car. You kept your eyes down on the ground and bit back your tongue.

The car ride home was equally silent, and you shifted in your seat as Zayne drove down the highway, as always the cautious driver. You decided to break the tension a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His stern expression softened just a touch, and your chest felt a little lighter.

“I ate earlier. No need to worry.”

You didn’t linger on the stiffness in his voice; you didn’t want to. Part of you wanted to ignore the presence of his walls altogether, but it was hard when he caged himself so tightly behind them in everything he did.

Thank god he lived close to the hospital.

You exited the car without glancing back to see if he was following, punching in the code to his house that he made you memorize in case he wasn’t home. A little kernel of annoyance now resided in your chest, because how could he still be putting up these walls around you?

Forget about those years-long feelings you hadn’t properly worked through together. You were still one of his oldest friends.

You opened the front door and dropped your bag at the little white table in the entryway. You could hear his footsteps behind you, and you could already feel the argument building in you before he even spoke.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked gently, the door clicking shut behind him and shrouding the entryway in shadows. Zayne flicked on the lamp sitting on the little white table, casting a warm glow over the room.

He was close to you, his chest nearly pressing against your back. It was too close for how annoyed you were with him.

“I’m not angry,” you punched out, and Zayne sighed as you stepped away from him. You turned to face him. “I’m just worried.”

Clearly he hadn’t expected for you to say that. His expression softened as he glanced away from you, gathering his thoughts together.

“MC, come here…,” he murmured, holding out a hand to you.

You weren’t ready to ‘come here’ just yet.

“No. No!” You were growing frustrated now. He couldn’t just hug you and make this go away. “You’re not the only one who is allowed to worry, Zayne!”

The silence that fell over the two of you made you realize just how loudly you were speaking to him. You believed you hadn’t raised your voice at him since you were kids, but right now it felt necessary. Maybe then he would be able to hear you.

Zayne ran a hand over his face, his glasses jostling slightly on his nose.

“I’m used to this,” was all he said. Before you could urge him on, he continued. “I’m used to the stress, and the chaos, and everything in between.”

You held your breath as he spoke like that, your nails digging into your palms. Your mind went quiet, his gentle voice sliding over your skin like a heated touch.

“Your grandmother told me to look after you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” At the mention of your grandmother, you flinched slightly. Your gaze traveled to the floor beneath your feet as you swallowed.

He didn’t say anything else, and silence stretched.

“I’m not the only priority here,” you murmured. Another sigh escaped Zayne from across the room.

“Yes, you are. You always have been.” A footstep, then another. You don’t move, shaking your head.

“Zayne, no,” you said firmly. The footsteps paused. “I dedicated my life to helping others–”

“So did I.”

“–so why can’t I help you?”

A sigh. “You’ve always been persistent, even as a child,” he murmured, taking another step closer to you.

“I know I’m not a doctor, but I want to help you,” you said, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. He had a guilty look on his face, and you wondered why. Why does he think like this?

“MC…,” he whispered, taking another step until you were toe to toe with him. His hands twitched, as if he was holding back from cradling your face. “The last thing I would want to do is burden you.”

Burden. It was such a strong word. The knife in your heart twisted at that, and your expression softened, your lips parting.

You suddenly wanted to protect this man from anything and everything; there was a fragile heart underneath this icy exterior. He surely couldn’t protect you all the time– he was only a man. He could damn well try, but even Zayne could tire himself out eventually.

But this man could never be a burden. Never.

Your hands come up instead to hold his face between your hands. You rose onto the tips of your toes, slowly but surely.

“Whoever told you that caring for you is a burden needs to pay,” you whispered before tentatively pressing your lips against his.

It was soft, but full of meaning and emotion. You didn’t understand why, but you wanted to let Zayne know that you were here. You were alive and kissing him.

And by God, you wanted him to know that you cared about him. Wholly and truly, even after years of friendship.

When you pulled back, Zayne’s breathing became heavy, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t decipher. He stood rigidly, and your fingers twitched as they cradled his jaw. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like it?

It happened fast, before you could even get out a word of an apology.

He dove straight back in, hands flying to your jaw as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t as soft as the first time, his tongue sliding against your lips and silently begging for you to open up for him. You complied with a hum and tilted your head back; Zayne’s chest gave a low rumble as he tasted you.

It hit you that this is the first time you had kissed him. You didn’t even think about it when you did it– it just felt right. Regardless, after years of friendship, that line had finally been crossed in a physical sense.

His glasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and bumped against your face. You didn’t mind the interruption as he pulled away from you, panting heavily as he inspected your face.

Your hand lifted and gently touched his lens, ready to take it off yourself. He brushed your hand away and shook his head, huffing as he ripped it off himself before returning to your lips.

It was quick, impulsive. And you knew that whatever walls Zayne had in place came crumbling down at your feet. Down fell the pinnacle of perfection and control that Zayne embodied, and in its place was this.

It was like he was a different person, slowly backing you against the wall while kissing you in the middle of the foyer. Before he could trap you there, you stumbled a bit over your feet, momentarily breaking away from the kiss to glance down. Zayne grumbled and dipped his head to try and find your lips again. His hands then fell from your neck to your hips, then to the backs of your thighs.

You yelped as he hoisted you upwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him, at the intensity in his eyes; it was ironically like a blazing fire.

“Zayne…” You didn’t even know what to say other than his name, and his eyes darkened at the sound of his own name.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain control around you?” He asked gruffly, and your heart thudded loudly against your ribs. You shook your head down at him, your teeth finding your lower lip and biting down.

His gaze dipped to your lips again, his chest expanding and his brows rising in interest.

What was this? This was not Zayne anymore.

With a grunt he started walking with you still wrapped around him, tightening his grip on you. You already knew that he was heading for the stairs, and there went another wall that came crashing down.

You never stayed over. Never. You guessed things had changed now.

“How could I have believed that?” He asked, and you were not sure what he was talking about at all. You settled into his hold, your head in the crook of his neck, and Zayne’s hold tightened immensely, as if he were afraid you would run from him. “How could I resist the most tempting person I’ve ever met?”

You shivered at his words, your eyes fluttering shut. It seemed like his words stretched across years, generations, eons. It came from his very soul.

As he climbed the stairs, your head lifted slightly, your lips attaching to his earlobe. You sucked the skin into your mouth before nibbling gently on the flesh.

“I think we found something you’re terrible at,” you murmured. It was to tease him, just like when you were kids, but Zayne took that little jab as something to chuckle at.

He adjusted his hold on you, your core shifting against the rigid plane of muscles running down his abdomen. Zayne groaned at the movement, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, and you were so sure he would leave marks there.

“I’ve been resisting this since we were thirteen years old,” he admitted bluntly as he reached the top of the stairs. You faintly heard the thud of a door opening as you continued to nibble on his ear lovingly. “I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

When the soft plush of the bed hit your back, you flinched, and your vision of the ceiling was immediately invaded by Zayne’s black hair and the deep green of his eyes. You cracked a smile as he just took you in, his gaze flickering around your face as if to check you were really beneath him.

“Guess you lost your streak,” you whispered, and amusement sparkled behind his eyes as you draped your arms around his neck. Those icy walls that once surrounded his heart melted into mere puddles.

His once cold hands were now warm as they glided across your skin, and a rare smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he watched you shiver. Your nostrils flared at your intake of breath, your chest expanding against his palm; he glanced down at your body like a doctor, methodically, but now with a barely concealed hunger.

“I’ve hardly lost.”

It was Zayne’s turn to feed into his urges, and you didn’t mind it one bit as the night slowly bled away into day between sweat-slicked skin and whispered confessions.

[cas-edspace]

So, the other day, I have came up the best headcanon. It is best because in fanfic world, it would be so true.

Doc and Grian had definitely fought to see who could propose to their respective boyfriends first and in the most extravagant way:

I like to imagine they both had these immaculate buildups to proposing and the plans somehow always fall through-

Like Scar gets random food poisoning! Just as Doc got on one knee, with Ren’s back turned, and poof, Ren is sent to the Life Games. Grian and Doc are rightfully upset, but you can’t blame your actively suffering partner-

They both keep trying and trying, sometimes the mood is ruined, or get more emotional and proposing during an already emotionally exhausting conversation, but Doc and Grian is definitely glad that those convos happened as when your partner opens up to you, you listen and adapt. So, when Doc went simple and took Ren to an expensive restaurant and they got attacked by a monster hunter. Ren didn’t fight back as, they were in public and attacking as a werewolf can get him put down. Doc, thankfully, defended Ren pretty easily (war veteran and godkiller ftw) and learning that werewolves specifically are still considered big threats even if they’re almost extinct. Something else he learned that night is that Doc makes Ren feel so safe, that he isn’t paranoid with him around.

Grian took Scar to an amusement park, and he found that Scar doesn’t trust their machines. Scar, to this day, brags about being right as the Ferris Wheel breaks with them on it. The vex goes to explain that he only trusts his fellow hermits and Disneyland. Grian didn’t like seeing Scar all tense in his fear, especially not when he’s afraid in such uncontrolled space. Like when Grian scares Scar on Hermitcraft, Scar knows he is safe, even safe to die on the world, but the hub world? And in some machine that probably doesn’t see as much detailed inspection as it should? Count him out.

Eventually, when they do propose? It wasn’t anything grand, just spur of the moment confession.

Ren and Doc are lying in bed, one’s tired from building all day and the other from planning. Doc half asleep just asks, and Ren laughs, and reminds them that on their vacation during Limited Life, that in the eyes of the law, they already are. They got drunk and married back then. And that Ren proposed that night. Doc jokes that this is how he’ll tell everyone that they got engaged, which got Ren to sleepy giggle.

“Okay, fine, and the answer is always yes, Doctor.”

“I love you, Ren.”

“I love you too, Doc, forever.”

Grian, at the end of Secret Life, after everyone else left the server, proposes. Scar falls even harder for him that day. The simplicity, the soft expression mixed with a bit of pride, the genuine vulnerability- even Grian’s eyes open to plead at him to just say yes. And, to Grian, that day’s Scar smile was only beaten by the one Scar smiles when he says “I do”

So in the end, Ren won their secret competition, much to the dismay of Grian and little to Doc, because Doc can’t really be upset to learn that he’s already married to the love of his life, he just wishes that he remembers that night. (And how he managed to stop Ren from getting sent to the games. Doctor M 77 will rather fight the Buttercups again than allow himself be powerless against the games, against this routine thing that only brings his husband and friends intense trauma.)

[a-drifting-mannequin]

Language Barrier

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE) Pairings: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone; Stobotnik Warnings: Cussing Chapter 1: Falling asleep

Summary: Whenever Robotnik feels immensely frustrated, Stone often hears something nearly illegible to his ears. Upon closer inspection, Stone feels like this problem would’ve been defused long ago if he had spoken up.

Short collection of five times Stone couldn’t (or more like outright refused to) understand Robotnik and one time when he actually responded.

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“God fucking hell!” Robotnik’s voice echoed through the empty lab, bouncing off the metal walls that surrounded him. His goggles were quickly tossed off of his head, landing on the floor with a dull thud, just beside the chair he was sitting on. Stone stood not too far away, watching the scene unfold with a silent sigh. Steaming coffee in hand, he approached the doctor with caution.

Ever since this project that had been bestowed onto them a week too late, Stone and Robotnik has been working their asses off to meet the deadline that was only a week away. Stone had sent many angry emails to Commander Walters during the first day of the project under Robotnik’s orders, but inevitably got no response in return which only served to fuel the doctor’s fury.

‘You can’t rush perfection’, they say. It didn’t look like G.U.N.’s higher-ups understood that. Even an average person shouldn’t expect too much from a genius.

While the deadline didn’t do as much as scare the pair, the unnecessary feedback and additional details that were missing from the original requirements was what throwing Robotnik off the edge. The doctor didn’t do so much as to walk out his lab, insisting on sleeping at the main console and refusing food. Stone had taken it as a mission to make sure that Robotnik was hydrated and eating, even if the doctor didn’t touch the food for an hour after it was placed down.

Coffee remained a necessity. Stone had consider switching the doctor’s usual latte out for something decaf, but the smell of decaf coffee had a huge difference compared to the latte the agent was used to making. Robotnik would notice right away, even when he hadn’t taken a sip of the liquid, so Stone decided against it.

“Your coffee, Doctor.” Stone said calmly, pressing the warm cup against Robotnik’s cheek in hopes of calming the man down.

For a moment, a flash of malice crossed those tired eyes. Robotnik’s body tensed up similar to a scared animal about to attack. And, in a way, he did try to attack Stone, unsuccessful or not.

The gloved hand that weren’t laid on the holographic keyboard clenched into a fist, pressing down on the buttons in the palm of his hand in a way that would’ve broke them. Robotnik’s fist came flying towards Stone, seemingly in a practiced move. If Stone hadn’t dodged it, he was sure he would end up with a broken nose and spilled coffee on the ground.

When Robotnik finally registered the fact that it wasn’t another no-name agent mocking him for feeling frustrated, his eyes soften almost instantly and the doctor took a moment to calm down and regain his composure. Stone’s gaze was unwavering, laced with a little surprise but his eyes were dominated mostly by genuine concern and worry for the doctor’s health.

Grabbing the steaming cup with a mumbled noise of appreciation and an unspoken apology, Robotnik tilted the cup upwards to completely drain all of the liquid in it. Stone watched with concern.

Placing the cup down with some force, his hand darted out to grab onto Stone’s tie, pulling him down so their faces were inches apart. Stone remained calm, glancing curiously at the doctor, noting that he might have to inflict some actual injuries onto the doctor in order to get him to sleep. The deadline be damned; he would prioritize the doctor’s health over a few machines. If said machines weren’t the badniks.

“Do you see this, Stone? Do you see what they’re making a genius like me do?” Robotnik asked, a finger pointed accusingly at the screen in front of him. His voice was a mixture of a breathy laugh and a scream that would’ve torn the universe apart. The universe in question was Stone.

Stone didn’t reply, understanding that was a rhetorical question and wasn’t meant to be answered. Instead, he offered the doctor a subtle nod, agreeing that this project was by far one of the stupidest thing they’ve been subjected to.

Field work was more stressful than this, but it would help Robotnik burn off some pent up energy and Stone’s pent up rage. It would do them both good but Walters had restricted field missions from Stone’s hands, instructing and treating him as if he was Robotnik’s caregiver. It’s not like it was ever a dull day working for the doctor, he just wanted to kill someone sometimes.

Then again, Stone reminded himself that Robotnik was too important to be out on field missions, both to him and to G.U.N.

If the doctor was severely hurt or wounded, it would take a while for him to recover. That meant delayed projects, no more commissions and efficiency within the lab plummet at a rate that was considered most concerning.

With a frustrated groan, the doctor released his tie and got back to work, hunched over like a shrimp and typing away at some codes before hastily turning to restart the assembly. Stone leaned down to pick up where his goggles had dropped, handing it back to the doctor and making sure to avoid touching Robotnik as much as possible. He needed his personal space right now.

Stone stayed leaning over Robotnik’s shoulder, occasionally moving some unwanted parts away and grabbing tools without the doctor needing to name it. Sparks flew and the sound of the badniks whirring behind the pair as they cleaned up any mess that was left behind filled the lab’s atmosphere. Stone could almost relax if it wasn’t his unwavering devotion and worry for Robotnik.

Of course, staying like this kind of hurt his back and his shoulders. Opting for a more comfortable position, Stone instead leaned against the arm of Robotnik’s chair, being able to relax better but still making an effort to not let his hip touch the doctor’s arm. Robotnik made no comment on Stone’s change of position, clearly too focused on the assembly than whatever his agent was up to.

“Disese gottverdammten Idioten, ich werde sie verdammt noch mal eines Tages umbringen.” Robotnik muttered under his breath in clear frustration after a few minutes of silence, removing his goggles again and titling his head up towards the ceiling, his hands coming up to drag down his tired out features.

The quietly said sentence snapped Stone out of his focus, eyebrow arching in confusion as he turned to look at the angered man. With his extensive research on the doctor, Stone knew that with his position within G.U.N, his language set must vary, from the most basic known languages to some more obscured. From the tone, Stone knew he was speaking German, but didn’t feel the need to respond to Robotnik with the same language. What he was actually curious about, however, was how suddenly Robotnik could change his language and accent.

Instead, Stone masked his understanding of German with slight confusion and intrigue.

“Doctor, could you translate what you said?” Stone requested politely, removing himself from where he was next to the doctor to stand beside him, eyes still directed towards Robotnik while his hands stay clasped in front of him.

“Stone, if your files say anything about you then you should’ve known what I said.” Robotnik resorted, eyebrows furrowing but his eyes never met Stone’s.

Stone stayed quiet for the rest of their work hours, only ever answering Robotnik’s direct orders with short responses. When work hours were over, however, Robotnik insisted that Stone stay at the lab in case of an emergency. Stone didn’t try to argue with the doctor, or point out the obvious excuse the doctor made.

Stone made himself comfortable on the couch that Robotnik had readily off to one side within the lab. Stone safely assumed the reason to have the couch here was because of the many times he saw the doctor sleeping at his monitor, never bothered moving to his own bed to get proper rest.

It was about midnight when Stone felt like his drowsiness was becoming overwhelming. Although he wanted to stay up to assist Robotnik with literally anything, his body and brain were betraying him.

Through hazy vision, the agent saw Robotnik turning around to look at him. A neutral expression laid on his exhausted features.

“Go to sleep, Stone.” Robotnik said simply. No sentiment.

“I can stay up, Doctor.” Stone replied, though he was sure that was a lie itself.

Robotnik didn’t say anything further, didn’t try to carry out the small conversation to make sure Stone stayed true to his words.

The agent did fell asleep at some point, much to his disappointment, laying on his front with his face slightly turned to one side to breathe on the couch. As he drifted off, the quiet drumming of Robotnik’s fingers were the only source of white noise Stone got.

The lab was cold; he could still feel it while he let sleep claim him, sending small shivers across his body as he tried curling in on himself before remembering that he was laying front down on the couch, face turned to one side to be able to breathe.

While he struggled in his sleep, trying to move his limbs that were already heavy from sleep, something that Stone assumed was a blanket was laid gently on his back. Immediately, all the shivering ceased. Stone swore he heard something that sounded vaguely like the doctor, but Stone blamed it on his tired and sleep deprived mind.

He definitely wouldn’t forget what was said to him, though.

“Godnatt, sykofant. Jag behöver dig fortfarande.”

Sometimes, Stone still surprise himself by the fact that his brain can still process his surroundings even in sleep. Maybe it came with the training, maybe Stone was just paranoid.

Morning came relatively quick, the sound of the alarm in still in his pocket waking Stone up with faint sounds and an annoying buzz. Stone groaned and rolled over to the best of his ability, staring up at the sleek black ceiling. He’s still in the lab, still in his suit now wrinkled. Stone used the back of his hand to wipe away at the dried drool on the side of his mouth.

No one was in the lab, all the badniks still in their charging station. The quiet hum of the lab could only provide the agent so much comfort before he was scrambling off the couch, rushing to his temporary quarters a room or two from the lab he was sleeping in before.

Stone couldn’t possibly work in this condition. He didn’t even look presentable enough to be in front of the doctor.

Stone rushed into his quarters and let the door behind him slid shut, concealing him from the soon-to-come judgmental eyes of the doctor.

Throwing open the wardrobe next to the bed he barely slept on, Stone sighed in relief when he saw the line of black attires still hung up and ironed perfectly inside. Taking one off and slipping inside the adjoined bathroom, Stone spent extra time carefully making himself look perfect. Shave a little there, comb down a cowlick here, make sure his eyes didn’t look sleep deprived.

After feeling content with how he looked, Stone exited his quarters with an air of perfectly tamed confidence, feeling like he could start the day normally.

As normal as it could get as Stone tried tiptoeing around the events of last night.

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Special thanks to @aramossy who is Swedish (love you)

Translation (in order):

Disese gottverdammten Idioten, ich werde sie verdammt noch mal eines Tages umbringen (German): These goddamn idiots, I'm going to fucking kill them one day

Godnatt, sykofant. Jag behöver dig fortfarande (Swedish): Goodnight, sycophant. I still need you

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo. 

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some. 

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s. 

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy. 

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-” 

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table. 

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself. 

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know. 

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!” 

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they? 

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a  background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling” 

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room. 

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”. 

They talk  a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)