#I wonder if he knew from the start...who she was... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

docrobinavitch · 3 days ago

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chasing ghosts

dr. abbot x f!resident!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, lots of angst, age gap, swearing, alcohol, mentions of child death/multiple casualties at the beginning during a shift words: 8.1K synopsis: you and jack share a kiss during your second year of residency and you spend the next two years trying to outrun those feelings. until the pitt's annual summer party. jack abbot is down absolutely fucking horrendously. like i meaaaaan unprecedented levels of yearning. a/n: hi, i think i blacked out while writing this. eyeeeee had so so much fun. i hope i did jack justice. let me know what you think!!!!

The annual summer party for the Pitt is an all day affair in order to make sure everyone, regardless of who’s working what shift that day, has a chance to stop in.

You wouldn’t think it, but the ER knew how to throw a good party. In the morning, it started with brunch at a place downtown with bottomless mimosas, top tier pancakes, and a drag performance. After brunch, they’d go hang out at the park by the river for a few hours before reconvening for dinner and bar hopping downtown.

Jack Abbot was off today, but still skipped all the morning and afternoon activities in favor of the evening. His sleep schedule was built that way now and even on his off days, it was rare for him to be out during the day. Besides, he was hoping he’d run into you there after your own shift.

You never came to these types of events, but that didn’t stop him from hoping every time. His eyes were always searching, hoping they’d stumble upon yours.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to you much in the last two years, since you switched to the day shift. When shift change occurred, you largely avoided him. He asked Robby about you and Robby always said the same thing, “She’s a great doctor, but she keeps to herself.”

It hadn’t been like that when you were on the night shift. You were shy, sure, but it hadn’t taken Jack very long to pry you out of your shell.

He wondered sometimes if you regretted it, now. Letting him in.

Now, he was making the rounds at the first bar of the night, not so subtly looking for you.

“You’re pathetic,” Robby teased as he sipped his beer.

“Huh?” Jack said, finally bringing his eyes back to the man in front of him.

Robby smirked knowingly, “She is here, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He said, “But her boyfriend is supposed to be meeting her here.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, “Boyfriend?”

Robby nodded, “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone until today. I overheard her mention it to Heather.”

Fuck. Not only were you seeing someone, you were bringing him here, to meet everyone in the Pitt. You must’ve been serious about him, then.

“Do you know where she is?”

Robby tilted his head as he looked at Jack, “You sure you wanna go down that road?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He said, and it was true. Mostly.

The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation since the week before you had requested the shift change. That night on the roof. He felt it was long overdue for the two of you to sit down and talk about it like adults. Maybe Robby was right, maybe it was much too late for that.

But Jack couldn’t accept that.

Robby sighed heavily, “I saw her go upstairs to the rooftop bar with Heather and Samira twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks, brother.” Jack clapped him on the back as he headed up the stairs.

***

You liked the quiet of the night time. Being awake and working when everyone else was asleep brought with it a sort of peaceful solitude you couldn’t quite explain.

But Jack hadn’t needed you to explain, he had understood it intrinsically.

The night shift, of course, could become hectic and even nightmarish at times. But if you stepped outside for some air, either on the roof or the ambulance bay, the quiet of the night cocooned you in safety.

And that’s where you were that night two years ago, on the roof and leaning over the railing, trying to catch your breath.

There had been a six car pile up almost immediately rushed in after the day shift had trickled out. Ten patients. Four of them were in critical condition when they arrived, in that terrible purgatory between life and death. For five hours, you, Abbot, Shen, and Ellis had bounced between them. Still, you lost all four of them.

You had kept it together for the half hour after you had called the last patient, despite the fact that you had felt Jack’s eyes on you the whole time.

But he seemed able to keep it together, to not fall apart, so you would too. The knee jerk response to impress him, to make him proud of you had never quite dulled in your two years of residency. It felt a bit fucking pathetic, actually.

Worse, still, that he seemed to notice how badly you craved his validation and so gave it freely.

“Hey,” He stepped close to you, his warm breath caressing your cheek, “Go take a break, I’ll come find you in fifteen.”

“I don’t need a break.” You said quickly.

“You do,” He said, undeterred, “You’ve been staring dead eyed at the board for the last two minutes. Shen tried to call you over for a code stroke thirty seconds ago and you didn’t blink.”

You turned to him finally, panic on your face, “Fuck, seriously?”

You started to walk to go find Shen and the stroke patient, but Jack grabbed your arm, “Nope, uh-uh. Break first. Now.”

It was rare that Jack wasn’t joking with you, trying to make you smile. Now he looked deadly serious. Like he would physically remove you from the floor himself if you refused. You must’ve looked like shit.

“Okay.” You said finally, “Fine.”

He released your arm, but his eyes trained on your every step as you walked away, “I catch you on a patient in the next fifteen minutes and I’m sending you home.” He called after you.

You raised your hand over your head in a thumbs up to signal that you’d heard and kept walking.

And that was how you ended up on the roof. Bathed in the moonlight with the quiet midnight streets of Pittsburgh below, silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you greedily sucked the night air into your lungs.

You weren’t aware of time passing and your mind had gone blissfully blank until you heard him come up behind you.

“How come you, Ellis, or Shen didn’t need a break?” You asked, your voice wavering, “Is there something wrong with me?”

He leaned over the railing at your side and turned his head to look at you, but you avoided his eyes, knowing they’d be soft and warm and inviting. You did not need to see him looking at you like that right now. Just like you had been trying not to notice the way he watched you more than the others, touched you more than was necessary, handed out praise to you more generously.

“Not even a little bit.” He said softly, voice rough, “You were perfect down there. Nothing else you could have done.“

You breathed out a shaky breath, “Then why does it feel so bad?”

“Because you’re human,” He said softly, “And because you were the only one of us to call time of death on a seven year old tonight.”

You swallowed, tilting your head up towards the sky so you could see the moon. A moon that seven year old kid would never see again. “Does it ever hurt less?”

“Fuck, no.” He sighed, “But it makes you a better doctor, I think. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself to try to make it all mean something.”

Finally, you looked at him, and the sight of your red rimmed eyes wrecked him, “It does make you a better doctor,” You hiccuped and gave him a small smile, “The best, probably.”

He shook his head, smirking, and looked down at his hands, “Careful, kid. You keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me.”

Feeling brave, you nudged your shoulder against his, “I mean it. I feel really grateful that you’re my attending. I wouldn’t want to learn under anyone else.”

He pushed his shoulder back against yours and your hands brushed where they each grasped the railing, “I came up here to make you feel better and somehow you’re the one comforting me. How did you get so good at deflecting?”

You laughed through your tears and he relished the sound, “I learned from the best,” You said pointedly as you looked over at him.

“See,” He pointed at you, teasing, “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better. You’re way less unsettling when you’re mean.”

You smiled and he found himself staring at your mouth, enraptured by it, really. The truth was, he had noticed the ways in which he was better when he was around you. Both as a doctor and a teacher. You made him want to be better. He knew he had been giving you more attention than the others, bordering on an inappropriate amount. And he knew, before he came up to the roof, that he’d have a hard time being alone with you and not imagining what you taste like or what your soft skin would feel like under his calloused hands.

He thought you felt the same, but you could be hard to read sometimes. Sometimes, he swore you leaned into his touch, other times you jumped away from it as if he had burned you. Sometimes you went whole days seemingly trying to avoid him, others you followed him around like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head and for him to tell you what a good girl you are.

But now, fuck, now you were gazing at his mouth, too. And he tried, really fucking tried, to rein in the desire. He shouldn’t have kissed you. And he would think about it every day for days and weeks and months and years how badly he wished he could take it back. Not because he didn’t mean it or didn’t want it, but because it had started this downward spiral of silence and distance until you were so far away he hadn’t really seen you up close in two years. If he could go back, he would’ve told himself it wasn’t worth it. Because having only this much of you day in and day out while he yearned for more was better than having nothing at all, than you slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

But he didn’t know then what he knew now.

Cautiously, he moved his face towards yours, waiting for you to pull back. But inch by inch he moved, and you stayed put. And when he was close enough to share breath with you, he met your eyes and was greeted with pupils that had completely devoured your irises. No color in sight, just an endless abyss of desire and want. Your breath faltered when his lips just barely brushed yours, and he stilled for a moment before his self restraint crumbled.

The kiss was hesitant and gentle, at first. Jack kept his hands to himself, slowly kissed you in a way that repeatedly seemed to ask Is this okay? Is this alright? Are you okay? Are you sure?

It was you who deepened the kiss first, tongue darting out to swipe gently at his lower lip.

And the cord between you, that was already so tenuous and frayed, snapped.

His hands shook as he touched you, moving from your waist, to your neck, to your face. It was like his body knew first what his brain didn’t, that he was taking too much and not enough, that hours and days and months and years of touching you would never satiate him anyway and he should just fucking quit while he was ahead. His traitorous mouth that moaned into yours was a bottomless, greedy pit and it could never have you, not really, not even as it sucked desperately at your neck in a useless attempt to mark you as his.

The marks would fade and you would fade from him along with them.

He thinks now he probably knew as soon as you pulled away, at the panic in your eyes, that he had lost you before he had even really had the chance to have you.

But he would deny it to himself, even as you ran off the roof ignoring the way your name came out strangled from his throat.

He would deny it when you didn’t look at him the rest of the night, when you pretended not to hear when he tried to talk to you after the shift change that morning.

He would deny it when you handed him your shift change request form after a week of avoiding him, asking for his signature as you looked anywhere but at him.

He would deny it when his broken voice asked “Is this really what you want?” and you only silently nodded.

Jack Abbot knew he had lost you, he wasn’t delusional, but he could convince himself it was only temporary. He was patient. So fucking patient. He’d find you again, when you were ready.

***

Jack could admit that you having a boyfriend had not been part of his plan. Not that he had a plan, more so an overwhelming sense that if he waited long enough, you’d fall back into him.

But you had still been fleeing the ER at shift change without acknowledging him. He was patient, but it aggravated him to no end, the way you seemed so unaffected. Sometimes it made him feel like maybe he had made it all up in his head and that you had never wanted him at all. But then the film would play on loop again in his head and he knew he didn’t imagine your blown out pupils or the way you deepened the kiss first or the way you moaned when his mouth plucked bruises from your neck like ripened strawberries.

You had wanted him just as badly, he was sure of that. He just couldn’t understand why you were still acting like he didn’t exist.

When he got to the rooftop and looked around, he found you first at a table in the corner, eyes glued to your phone. Another quick glance around and he saw Heather and Samira talking at the bar.

Perfect. You were alone.

When he crossed the roof and sat in the empty seat next to you and you didn’t immediately look up, he realized you had marked his presence on the rooftop as soon as he got here.

The man was like a fucking sonar to your brain. You knew when he was in the same room as you before your eyes could track him. Tonight was no different.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Jack said.

Oh, you hadn’t realized how much you had missed the pleasant roughness of his voice, how it soothed you effortlessly. It practically sent chills down your spine.

You swallowed, continuing to stare at your phone. The second you met those warm hazel eyes, it would be over for you, you knew. It was the reason you had avoided him so diligently the last two years.

“Heather and Samira are getting me one.”

He wordlessly held his own drink out to you. When you stared blankly at it for a few moments, he shook it lightly, ice rattling against the glass, “It’s just a tequila soda. It’s not poison.”

Against your better judgment, and perhaps to indulge that stupid fucking instinct in your head that demanded you not disappoint him, you took it from him. You did your best not to pay attention to the sensation that shot across your skin when your fingers brushed, but the traitorous goosebumps spread across your arms anyway.

You took a sip and handed it back to him, still looking at your phone.

“Why aren’t you with them at the bar?”

“I had to take a call.”

“From your boyfriend?” Finally, fucking finally, you looked at him. It was disdain all over your face, but fuck it, he’d take it. He smirked and held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t ask, Robby told me. Said he was meeting you here.”

Quickly, you looked back at your phone and he saw your throat bob, “He called to say he couldn’t make it, so.”

Jack watched you carefully, the way you frowned and your mouth turned down just slightly. You were upset, and not just at him.

“I’m sorry,” He said softly, but you scoffed at his apology and shook your head. And that pissed him off, “Look, you may fuckin’ hate me, but I still care about you and I mean it. I’m sorry if he stood you up. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

You rubbed at your forehead in agitation, “I don’t hate you. I’ve never fucking hated you. That’s the problem.”

Well, that was news to him. But he decided not to comment on it. He didn’t want to piss you off anymore than he already had, which seemed to be an awful lot considering he had just got here.

“How long have you been together?” You shot him that annoyed look again, “Christ, I’m just making conversation.”

“Right,” You said sarcastically and shook your head, but you answered all the same, “Two and a half years.” You said quietly. It hadn’t quite caught up to you yet, what you were admitting when telling him that. It took a couple of moments for your brain to catch up, but by then it was too late.

But Jack’s brain was already there, making the mental calculations you had long forgotten about.

Two and a half—? No, that—That couldn’t be right. Because that would mean—

Your face and ears had reddened and you wouldn’t look at him.

Jack’s ears were ringing. He started to say your name—

“Dr. Abbot,” Heather and Samira were back, the latter handing you a drink, “Catching up with your old resident?”

He forced a smile and stood, acted like his world wasn’t fucking falling apart around him, like you hadn’t just dropped a fucking bomb on him in casual conversation.

He was impressed with his ability to hold damn near cheerful conversation with Heather and Samira until he was able to excuse himself.

And this time, it was you who called after him when he left the roof.

“Jack,” Your voice was a soft plea behind him. It was a language he used to be fluent in, but clearly, he didn’t fucking know you anymore. He was starting to think he never had, “Jack, wait—“

He rounded on you in the stairwell, you still a couple of steps above him so the two of you were eye level, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

You seemed to be caught off guard that he had actually stopped, and just blinked at him for a moment, “What difference would it have made?”

“What difference—?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “All this time I’ve been driving myself out of my goddamn mind trying to figure out what I did wrong when it turns out I was your fucking, what, side piece? Affair?”

“Affair?” You hissed incredulously, “We kissed once!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, “Does he know?”

“What?”

He was quickly becoming frustrated with your inability to keep up with the urgency this situation demanded. To him, at least, the whole world had shifted around him. And you were behaving as if he was the one acting crazy.

“Your boyfriend, does he know? About us?”

“Jack,” You said breathlessly, “There is no us. There was never an us.”

Jack shook his head, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked, exasperated.

“I’ve been pining after you for two fucking years and you’ve compartmentalized so goddamn well that you’ve convinced yourself it was nothing. That it meant nothing.”

For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of the version of you he used to know. Your face faltered for just a second, but then the walls were immediately back up, “I don’t owe you anything.” You said coldly, “It’s not my fault you’ve spent the last two years chasing a ghost.”

You stared each other down for a few more moments, the rage pulsating between you, before Jack broke your stare by tossing back the rest of his drink, “You’re right,” He said finally, and turned away from you to head down the stairs, “I’m sorry I disrupted your evening. Won’t happen again.”

You sighed, “Jack—“

“It’s Dr. Abbot,” He said coldly, turning back to face you again, “If you don’t mind.”

Your face fell marginally and he almost took it back when he thought he saw your lower lip wobble, but he couldn’t be sorry. If you wanted to pretend like there was nothing between the two of you, then he would do the same.

He turned again and jogged down the rest of the stairs. He needed another drink. Or seven.

***

Your hands were shaking. You stood in the stairwell staring stupidly after Jack for longer than was acceptable. You couldn’t go back upstairs to Heather and Samira like this, they’d know something was up. And you certainly couldn’t follow after Jack.

You should just go home. It was a stupid fucking idea to come here in the first place, you knew it was. And still you had come, why?

Because some part of you wanted to see him? No matter how much you denied it? Never mind the fact you had basically only invited your boyfriend because you knew his presence would keep you accountable if you were forced to be alone with Jack?

You hadn’t wanted him here, not really. Not for reasons that made sense. If you were honest with yourself, which you hadn’t been in a long, long time, your relationship had been over for at least six months.

Seeing Jack again, hearing his voice again made that very clear to you. And a part of you hated Jack for it. You had been able to convince yourself for two years that your current relationship was as good as it would get. Your mistake with Jack on the roof was just that, a mistake. Nothing more.

You had thought after all this time Jack must’ve felt the same. He fucked up and kissed his hot, younger resident, just once. He hadn’t meant to and he would be glad it was all over. You had been doing him a favor, you thought.

But when you had allowed yourself to look at him, really look at him tonight, that hadn’t been what you’d seen. In fact, he was angry with you. He had looked at you with such hurt and betrayal as if all this time he had been in love with you.

It didn’t make any fucking sense. You sat in the stairwell and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. None of it made any fucking sense.

You should go home.

***

Robby eyed Jack with silent suspicion when he joined him back at the bar and ordered two tequila sodas. He knocked the first one back in one go and then rested his head in his hands on the bar top.

“So it went well, I take it?” Robby asked mildly.

Jack glared at Robby and then looked back at his drink, “She has a boyfriend.”

Robby nodded, “Right. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, now.”

Jack shook his head and felt the tequila make its way through him, “No, you see, she’s had a boyfriend. Since before she moved to the day shift. The same one.”

Robby was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jack knocked back his second tequila soda and ordered another.

“Alright, I can see you’re upset, but all the tequila sodas in the world aren’t going to make you feel better.”

“No,” Jack agreed, “But maybe it’ll stop me from thinking about her for just a while.”

Just then, as Robby was trying to subtly get the bartender to cut off Jack, Robby’s phone buzzed with a text from Heather.

What did Abbot say to Y/N? Found her crying in the stairwell. She won’t stop.

He sighed heavily and turned back to Jack, “You made her cry?”

“What?” Jack looked at him incredulously, “No.”

“Heather says she’s sobbing in the stairwell.”

Oh, he hated the way that sent an ache through him. There was a time when he would’ve taken off running to get to you if he had heard that. Maybe even just earlier today. Not now, though.

“Believe me, her eyes were fucking bone dry when I left her.”

Robby’s phone buzzed again.

Never mind. Finally got her to say something coherent. Broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. Nothing to do with Abbot.

Christ. Nothing to do with Abbot. Right, Robby thought and rubbed a hand down his face, somehow he doubted that very much.

Robby looked back at his friend, debating if he should deliver this news to Jack or not. But Jack was very drunk now and he’d probably just tear after you like a man on a mission. Neither of you needed that right now, Robby thought. He’d tell Jack in the morning.

***

Heather and Samira sat on either side of you as you tried and failed to explain everything to them. You were very bad at this. Having work friends. Shen and Ellis had tolerated you, always including you, buying you coffee, but you knew really you were mostly third wheeling. And you hadn’t minded it. You had always tried to draw a firm line between your work and personal life, which is probably why the situation with Jack fucked you up so badly.

Heather started again, “So you and Abbot—“

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you switched to the day shift.”

“Yes.”

“And Jack also wanted you moved to the day shift?”

This is where things got murky for you. Tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, “I don’t know what Jack wanted because I never asked.”

“He didn’t know about your boyfriend then, either?”

You shook your head slowly, “I thought the fact that I was his resident was excuse enough. I left because I didn’t trust myself around him and I thought it’d be easier on us both.”

“And today was the first time you’d really spoken in two years?”

“Yes.”

“And this one conversation spurred you to break up with your long term boyfriend on a whim?”

You looked at Heather and smirked, “So you’re getting it now? Why I should be institutionalized?”

Heather and Samira both laughed, but Heather shook her head, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re finally being honest with yourself about your feelings. Which is really fucking brave.”

“I say we go to the next bar and get very drunk.” Samira said, standing.

“Oh, I— No,” You shook your head, panicking, “What if he��s there?”

“Oh, I hope he is.” Heather laughed and the two of them linked arms with you.

***

Robby walked silently next to Jack as they made their way to the next bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “Brother, I really think maybe you should just sleep this one off.”

Jack turned to Robby, “It’s only 10 PM which is roughly 10 AM by my standards. So there will be no sleeping from me for a while. But you, by all means, can go home.”

Robby inhaled slowly through his nose. He was fucking exhausted, but he didn’t trust Jack in this state. And he had seen you go off with Heather and Samira not too long ago, headed in the same direction they were walking in right now.

So he kept walking, eyeing Jack every so often until they got to the bar.

He should have just gone home, probably.

Because once they got to the bar, all hell broke loose.

***

The room was spinning. The text had come in just moments after back to back lemon drop shots and your vision was blurred. You were unsure if it was from tears or the alcohol.

“Hey, what happened?” Samira was shouting in your ear over the din of the bar.

You passed the phone to her wordlessly as you ordered another shot. You needed to be belligerent if you were going to survive this.

Samira’s jaw dropped as she watched the video. She scrubbed back and forth a few times before she handed the phone back to you.

“This is the boyfriend who couldn’t meet you here because of ‘work’?”

You nodded.

“Well, you made the right call then, breaking up with him.”

You laughed humorlessly, and then you were sobbing, “I don’t know… why I care…” You hiccuped, “I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time.”

Samira sighed, rubbing a hand down your back, “It sounds like you tried really hard to salvage the relationship. Probably feels like a waste of almost three years of your life now,” This renewed your sobs and Samira looked at you with alarm, “I’m not saying I think you wasted three years, I just mean, it probably felt that way— I’m gonna go find Heather, she’s much better at this sort of thing.”

Alone, you ordered a drink and wiped at your cheeks. You knew Jack was next to you before you smelt his cologne and sighed heavily.

“Don’t worry,” He said softly, “I’m just getting a drink and then I’ll go as far away from you as possible.”

You only nodded. The man you had chosen to fight for had stood you up to go to a bar across town and make out with the coworker he swore for months you had nothing to worry about while your best friend unknowingly filmed him from across the room.

The man you were beginning to suspect had been in love with you for close to four years now, you had spent the last two years running away from and now he hated you.

It felt like a big cosmic joke.

You rested your head on your arms and willed him away so you wouldn’t have to confront the long string of bad decisions you’d made that had led you here.

But Jack just couldn’t resist when you looked so miserable, “Are you alright, kid? Hate seeing you like this.”

You pushed your head up and met his eyes. Despite your earlier argument, he was looking at you with tenderness and concern. He meant it, that he cared, you could see it all over him. It made you want to burst into tears again. And maybe that’s why you decided to poke the bear, see how far you could push, what would make him really, truly loathe you? It was what you deserved after all, right?

You turned your head away from him and unlocked your phone, tapping to the video your friend had sent, hitting play and sliding it over the bar top to Jack, “You’ll be happy to know this is what my boyfriend was too busy doing to meet me tonight. Some sort of fucked up karma, I suppose.”

Jack’s face betrayed nothing as he watched the video, but you thought maybe a muscle in his jaw ticked. He slid the phone back to you, “Whatever you think of me, I’m not enjoying this.”

You scoffed and shook your head, looking down at the bar top.

“I’m serious. I would never—“ You hear him sigh in frustration, “Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I wish you were hurting, too. If anything, if you were happy, maybe it’d all make more sense to me.”

He tapped his finger on top of your phone case, “That guy’s a fucking idiot. You deserve way better than that.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, carefully avoiding looking at him, “Hey,” He said and crooked a finger under your chin, gently pulling until you met his gaze, “You deserve better, okay?”

You were conscious of the fact that you wanted to kiss him. And you knew he saw the way your eyes drifted dangerously to his mouth.

“I did the same thing to him.” You said quietly, still staring at his mouth, “Only seems fair.”

Jack released your chin and shook his head, “Don’t compare what we did to… To that.”

He sounded disgusted and it made you want to laugh, “How is it any different?”

“That is just drunken lust.” He leaned towards you on his forearms, “What we did meant something. Maybe not to you, but it did to me.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Did it mean something to you?” He shot back.

His face was very close to yours now, you could smell the tequila on his breath.

“Tell me,” He said slowly, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you and I swear to God, I’ll walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly to clear the watering of your eyes. Of course you couldn’t tell him it meant nothing. You had thought about it nearly every day for two years.

But you were drunk and a fucking wreck and you didn’t know anything anymore except that you still remembered exactly what Jack Abbot tasted like and that he was looking at you right now like he would get on his knees for you in this crowded bar if you asked.

“I should go.” You whispered softly, broken, and slid from your bar stool.

He let you pass, but then called after you, loudly enough that people around you quieted, “What the fuck are you so scared of?”

You turned back, knowing that your face was flushed from the attention of others, “Goodnight, Dr. Abbot.”

***

“Hey, let her go,” Robby stood in front of Jack who was now trying to exit the bar and follow after you, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted, and when he looked around Robby, he saw it had started to downpour outside, “She’s drunk and it’s storming out there.”

“Heather will check in with her and make sure she gets home okay.”

Jack looked from the door to Robby a few times before sighing and running a hand through his hair, “Sorry, I just… She really gets under my fucking skin.”

Robby nodded and tried to stifle a yawn, “I noticed.”

Jack sighed, “Go home, Robby, seriously. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I promise.” He shook his head, “I should probably just go home, too.”

Robby offered a sad smile and clapped him on the shoulder, “It’ll all make more sense in the morning, brother.”

Jack snorted, “Historically, that has never been true for me.”

***

It felt pretty melodramatic to be standing in the park overlooking the river as it poured. It was all very Jane Austen of you, you decided. Except Mr. Darcy would not be showing up to declare his love for you, Mr. Darcy was likely dry and headed home in his UberX.

You didn’t know where home was anymore. Luckily, you hadn’t moved in with your boyfriend yet. It was one of the many things that should have been a red flag, the fact that you hadn’t had a desire to cohabitate with him. You liked when he left in the morning and you liked the nights where he got home too late and went to his own apartment so as not to disturb your rest.

But still, there were traces of him all through your apartment. You didn’t want to be there.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the warm rain before your phone buzzed. You expected Heather or Samira, but were shocked to see Jack’s name on the banner, alerting you to a text.

Jack hadn’t texted you in something like two years.

I know I shouldn’t be texting you, it read, But I just want to be sure you got home safe. Please text when you’re home.

After staring at your phone for a few minutes, now soaked with the rain, you attempted to dry the screen with the sleeve of your jacket. It worked only slightly, but allowed you to hold down the text and “like” it.

After about thirty seconds, the speech bubble appeared on your phone to indicate he was typing.

Well don’t just fucking like the message. Are you home?

You could lie, you supposed. Probably, you could walk into PTMC and sleep in an empty room upstairs.

But you were growing tired of all the pretending.

no. You replied finally.

His reply was immediate, Where are you?

in the park.

It’s raining.

excellent observation, dr. abbot.

You stared at the screen as his speech bubble appeared and disappeared, over and over, for a couple minutes.

Send me your location. Then, almost as an afterthought, Please.

This was a bad idea, probably. After the events of today, you should not be sending Jack Abbot your location. You should not be speaking to Jack Abbot at all. After today, you should probably resign from your residency and maybe join a convent.

You watched as seemingly of their own volition, your hands tapped all the right buttons to send Jack a pin.

A few moments later, he texted a screenshot of an Uber being sent to your location with the car information and license plate.

i don’t want to go home. You sent him in a rush.

Yeah, I got that, he replied, The Uber is bringing you to me.

You blew a long breath out between your lips, you sure that’s a good idea?

Nope. Uber’s pulling up now.

Sure enough, headlights lit up the raindrops behind you. You turned to see the car, quickly giving the license plate a cursory once over to make sure it matched what Jack sent.

You could send the car off. Say it was a mistake. Not get in. Showing up at Jack’s apartment soaked to the skin in the middle of the night, still drunk and emotionally unstable felt like boarding a train you knew would derail.

You still got in the car, though. You didn’t have anywhere else to go.

***

When Jack opened the door to his apartment, the frigid air from his AC assaulted you and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stepped aside to allow you in and you kicked off your water logged shoes.

You had been here only once before, the first week of your residency. Jack would host a team dinner (early, so you could all still make your shift in time) whenever a new resident was added to the night shift.

You had been really nervous you recalled, until Jack had cracked a joke that made you choke on your soda.

It had been almost four years, but his apartment hadn’t changed much at all. It was neat and tidy, nothing out of place. The furniture was well taken care of, but everything was in varying shades of gray and blue. The only hints of personality being some pictures on his fridge, vinyls by a stereo, and some books on a shelf.

But one photo on his fridge caught your eye and before you knew what you were doing, you were walking to it.

Early in your second year of residency, you had presented your research on cardiogenic pulmonary edema outcomes in the ER at a conference in New York. Jack had shown up without telling you he was coming. He stayed near your poster all day while you presented to interested passersby, giving you a thumbs up or “solid work” when you needed it, smuggling you snacks, making sure you drank water. And at the end of it you remembered he took you out to dinner and told you how proud he was of you and what a great emergency medicine doctor you would be.

You had taken a picture with him in front of your poster and this was the photo on his fridge. You had a huge smile on your face and Jack had an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I didn’t know you had this.” You said softly.

He didn’t say anything so you turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on the photo, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” He said finally, walking by you to his bedroom.

You watched in his doorway as he pulled a pair of clean sweatpants and a t shirt from his closet and placed them at the edge of his bed, “The shower’s in that room,” He pointed to a door off the bedroom, “There’s clean towels under the sink, use whatever soap you like.”

He started to walk past you, but you grabbed his arm, and he stopped, eyes snagging on the hand that was touching him, “Thank you.” You said softly.

His eyes slowly roved upwards until they met yours. He searched your face, though you weren’t sure what he was looking for, then pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left the room.

***

After you were showered and changed, you wandered out to the living room where Jack sat on the couch, an arm draped over his forehead. He had taken his prosthetic off and it was propped up next to the coffee table.

When he heard you pad into the room, he cracked his eyes open, “Feeling better?” You nodded. “Good. Take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.”

But you still stood there, staring at him, arms wrapped around yourself, “Do you love me?” You asked, voice small.

He stared at you for a moment and sat up, running a hand over his face, “Have I not made it painfully obvious?”

“For how long?”

He shook his head and smiled at you incredulously, “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been in control of this,” He gestured between the two of you, “From the second I fucking met you and now you’re trying to what, decode the situation? See what outcome is most advantageous? I mean, Jesus Christ, what do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Yes,” He said, “Not what seems correct, not what seems rational, what is it that you want?”

“I—“ You shook your head, “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He said firmly, “Do you want your cheating boyfriend?”

You frowned, “No.”

“Did you ever want him?”

You huffed in frustration, “What do you mean?”

“I mean when you chose him over me, was that what you wanted?”

“That’s not a fair characterization of what happened—“

“Was it what you wanted?”

You faltered, “It was what was safest.” You said softly.

He smiled at you sadly, “He couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t love him, right?”

You stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears back into your eyes, “I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“You never gave me the chance to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

You looked at him, eyes watering, and you swallowed hard before you moved to him. He watched you as you placed a knee on either side of his legs, straddling his lap. His eyes followed your every movement reverently, your face just above his as you rested your forehead against his. His hands knotted themselves in your hair, “I’m scared,” You breathed shakily into his mouth.

“Of what?” He asked, his mouth near centimeters from yours.

“Of you. Of wanting you too much. Of losing you. Of everything.”

“I can’t promise you that this will work,” He said softly, “But I can promise I’ll fight like hell to make it work.”

You swallowed, “Because you love me?”

Finally, he laughed, “Yes, I fucking love you. Now be quiet.” He said before he kissed you.

He tasted exactly like you remembered, except tonight, there were remnants of tequila on his tongue. It was like he was trying to make up for lost time, the way he kissed you on that couch. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost immediately, like he was searching for something he’d lost. Already, you were out of breath, hips grinding down on him without realizing. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently, groaning when you rubbed yourself on his growing erection.

“Slow down,” He chastised.

“You started it.” You reminded him.

“Fuck,” He moaned and then pushed you off him so he could crawl over you, “You’re sure?” He asked as you looked up at him, hair fanning around your head on the couch cushion like a halo.

You nodded, “I want you.”

He smirked and lowered his head to yours again, pulling kisses from you as one hand worked its way under your t-shirt. Your skin was smooth and soft there and he inched up slowly, until his fingers just brushed the underside of your breast. Touching you like this, he thought a lot about that night on the roof, the way he had kissed you like he knew he was already out of time.

Now… Now the world seemed to open up. He could take as much time as he wanted. You weren’t going anywhere, not this time. You were his and he wouldn’t let you go so easily again.

Gently, he tugged the t-shirt over your head so he could look at you and he was unable to suppress the sigh that tumbled from his lips. He squeezed your breast with one hand, thumbed your nipple and watched it pebble as you sighed. Still watching you, he pinched your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger and your eyes rolled back into your head as you writhed beneath him.

He kissed you, fingers still teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers, and then he began to kiss down your jaw and neck until he was able to suck your nipple into his mouth. The moan that fell from your lips when he swirled his tongue around you went straight to his cock.

He was overly conscious of the fact that because he had imagined this very moment for two years minimum, likely longer, because he had imagined it hundreds of times while getting himself off, it was likely he would last all of thirty seconds once he was inside you, once he felt the real thing. So he would make this last for you.

Jack shimmied the sweatpants off of you and forgot that because you were here and you had just showered, you weren’t wearing panties. And suddenly, he felt feral.

“Jesus Christ,” He shook his head looking at you, it felt like maybe he was dreaming a little, having you naked beneath him. He felt almost delirious with it.

You looked up at him, those pupils once again whole saucers, “Touch me, please?” You whined.

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he reached a hand down between your thighs. You gasped as he fully sunk a finger into you. When he moved his mouth back down to suck on your other nipple, your back arched and it sent him into another dimension, being able to make you feel like this.

With two of his fingers pumping you slowly and a thumb on your clit, he felt the moment when you climaxed before you cried out, “That’s it, sweetheart,” He said softly, “Look so pretty when you come for me like that.”

As you caught your breath, you watched as he pulled his fingers out of you and then sucked your juices from his digits. “Taste so good, too.”

Your eyes stayed locked on one another as he reached for a wooden bowl on the coffee table. He took the top off, pulled out an aluminum packet, and closed it again. And suddenly you were giggling, “What?” He asked, ripping the package open.

“D’you fuck mad bitches on this couch or something, Jack?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked, “Shut up.”

When he slid into you, forehead pressed to yours, you gasped at the sensation. You had thought about this countless times before, Jack Abbot above you, like this. What you had never really thought about was that maybe while he did it, he’d be looking at you like he was in love with you. And it nearly shattered you.

“I love you,” You murmured into his mouth as you felt him beginning to come undone, “I love you so much.”

He moaned your name as he finished and collapsed against you, damp and breathless, “You love me, huh?” He said after a moment.

You lightly scratched the back of his head, “I’ve loved you for years,” You said softly, “Just spent a lot of that time denying it.”

He pulled his head back and kissed you messily, your chin grasped firmly in his hand.

“Better late than never.”

#the pitt #the pitt fic #the pitt x reader #jack abbot #dr abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot smut #dr abbot imagine #mine

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flofaiiry · 2 days ago

Text

Washington's Finest — Bucky Barnes x Reader

SUMMARY: Congressman Barnes has heard the stories from his colleagues on committee, he knows the stereotype that politicians in Washington often hire women to pursue their extracurricular activities- but he never expected to be the one to be in the need of such... services, much less the kind of man who'd actually seek them out

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is a sex worker (referred to as a call girl & hooker), age gap (reader is in law school so mid/late twenties), reader's parents are dead, most likely incorrect info about nda's & how they're used, swearing, probably an overuse of italics oopsie, so much kissing, breast&nipple play, oral f!receiving, reader attempts to fake an orgasm (spoiler it does not work), fingering, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bucky is kind of condescending, teeny bit of dacryphilia, big dick!bucky, little bit of manhandling, unprotected p in v sex (don't do that!!!), creampie. not proofread!!!

WC: ~7k

NOTE: sorry to all my Pitt & Shawn Hatosy followers that this isn’t your regularly scheduled content, I just got this idea after watching one too many Bucky edits and had to write it !!!😁😁 also I apologize if I portray sex workers in a negative light at all, that is not my intention at all!! I heavily based reader on Laurie from The West Wing, which is admittedly a pretty old show, but I tried my best & I hope you enjoy!!!

Bucky, the junior congressman from New York, knows the reputation that politicians have cultivated. He knows the stereotype of the dead-beat husband who steps out on his wife with a prostitute when he's in D.C., then acts all lovey dovey back in the home state.

He thought since he was single, he could avoid this dilemma. This career ending adultery and solicitation scandal that so many before him had walked into. He thought that he could find some girl to take home at a bar and get his rocks off that way, but that proved to be a harder task than he thought. Everyone in D.C., knew him. Everyone in Brooklyn knew him. Everyone everywhere knew him.

It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get annoying.

Fucking his fist in the shower quelled off the physical urges- and even that was starting to lose its efficacy. But what getting himself off didn't satisfy were his mental and emotional needs. The need to be seen, to be felt, to be touched, to be loved. Bucky wanted that.

But he wasn't going to get it anywhere in this town- or this country for that matter.

He'd heard enough stories through hushed conversations outside committee rooms & caucuses to know that Washington's Finest was the best, most reliable high end escort service in DC. The preferred choice for most politicians on Capitol Hill who dabbled in the art of the extramarital affair.

So, one afternoon when he was feeling especially in need- he made the call.

"Washington's Finest, you've reached Elena, how may I direct your call? The woman's voice is sweet and almost robotic sounding. Bucky isn't sure if it's actually a real person or one of those automated recordings until it starts speaking unprompted.

"Hello?"

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Hi. Um- booking."

Elena makes a little sound of acknowledgement before speaking again, "Alright sir, your call is being transferred, I'm going to place you on a brief hold, please stay on the line!"

As soon as she finishes talking, a smooth jazz music floods through the phone and into Bucky's ear. It's nice, familiar. Just as he thinks he might recognize the song, he's met with another woman's voice.

"Good evening this is Washington's Finest, you've reached booking! I'm Paulina how may I assist you?" She speaks, that same sort of uncanniness present in her tone.

"Hi. Yeah, uh I'd like to book- I guess."

"Great! Well then you're in the right place, may I just get a name to make the reservation?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should give his real name. Paulina seems to notice this.

"It doesn't have to be your name, sir. Just any name that we can refer to you by for the booking."

He doesn't say anything. Paulina fills the silence again.

"Rest assured sir, we deal with many high profile customers, our privacy policies are top notch to ensure that your proclivities are kept-"

"Steve." He blurts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Steve. My name is Steve."

Why he just offered the name of his best friend? He doesn't know. But at the moment it's the only name coming to mind so it's gonna have to do.

The woman on the other end smiles almost audibly.

"Alright then, Steve. What service would you like to book with us?"

"Shit, I uh- I don't know. What... services do you have?"

There's a ruffling of papers, a click of a mouse, then her voice again. "We offer three main packages: the One Night, the Weekend Getaway and the Week Long All-Inclusive. Many first-time customers choose to start with the One Night, helps them to find a girl they connect with to book longer services with in the future."

Bucky nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Right. Okay, sure, yeah- the One Night sounds good, let's do that."

"Great! Sounds good, let's get you all reserved - when were you thinking to book your service?"

"I, um- whenever?"

"How about tonight?" She asks, tapping away almost violently at the computer.

He nods, once, twice- like he's trying to convince himself to go through with this. To stoop down to a level he swore he'd never reach. "You know what- sure, let's do tonight."

Paulina continues with the booking, going over various policies regarding payment and acceptable conduct with the girl he books. Then, she gets to the names. There are three girls with availability tonight:

Anya.

Peggy.

And you.

Peggy's out immediately- way too much baggage associated with that name. He eliminates Anya next, sounds too harsh to him.

Leaving him with you. A girl with a name that rolls of the tongue, who will be showing up at his brownstone in a little over three hours

You get the call a few minutes after Bucky hangs up, Paulina tells you that someone named Steve has requested your company tonight, and you're to attend an address in Alexandria at 9pm sharp.

You get ready as usual, wondering if this Steve will be another senator or congressman stepping out on his wife- citing the 'stress of the job,' for pushing them apart, or if he'll be some rich old guy with nothing better to do with his money, or maybe- a secret third option. What that is, you're not sure yet- but a girl can dream, can't she?

Either way- the routine never strays. Makeup, hair, lingerie under an unassuming outfit (men love it when they get to feel like they're unwrapping you). You're out the door by 8:30 and catch the bus to the address sitting in your email.

You get there a few minutes early, so you sit on a bench a few doors down until your phone reads 8:59PM. Then you start down the street to your assigned place of business.

You climb the steps then knock on the door a few times. A second later the door's swinging open. You recognize the face from the news, and from the museum, the former World War 2 hero turned Congressman.

Bucky Barnes.

Not Steve.

You weren't surprised. Didn't feel catfished. 90% of the time the name you're given isn't legit, but one given by the customer to maintain certain degrees of separation.

"Congressman Barnes," you say, nodding your head slightly to greet him.

He says your name in the same tone, but different- like it's more foreign to him. "Please, call me Bucky." He half smiles, stepping aside in the doorway though still terribly unsure of himself.

"Bucky," you repeat, stepping into the house through the open space next to him. "This is a nice place," you hum, kicking off your shoes while he shuts the door behind you. "Thanks," he replies.

"You want something to drink?" He asks, beckoning you to follow him into the kitchen. You do. "Oh, just water is fine, thanks. And ice if you've got."

He nods, filing your preference away then walking over to the fridge to pull out a pitcher, then a cupboard for a glass.

"So," you say, walking around to the opposite side of the kitchen island as him, "what got you calling up Washington's Finest?" He shrugs, sliding a glass full of ice water to you. You mouth a thanks before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

"What's anyone looking for when they order a hooker." He says, blunt as ever. You almost choke on the drink, setting it down with a thunk before coughing the water from your windpipe.

"Sorry- is that not what you're called?"

You shake your head, "no, I mean- hooker's not wrong it's just, we prefer call girl. Evokes a nicer image."

"Right. Call girl." He repeats, nodding his head.

You take one more sip, washing down any stuck remnants of liquid from your earlier near-asphyxiation. "So sex?"

"I'm sorry?" He asks.

"That's what most people are looking for when they order a hooker." You repeat his words back to him, earning a smile from the man. He nods, "can't argue with that logic."

He still hasn't answered your question.

"So... sex?" You try again

He coughs, like he was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

He says the words like they're true, but the look in his eyes says they're anything but.

"Right, okay." You reach into your purse and pull out a thin stack of folded paper. “Got a pen?” You ask, setting them both down on the counter: one in front of you, the other in front of Bucky. He quirks an eyebrow, “yeah,” then opens a drawer to retrieve one, “what’s this?”

“NDA,” you say plainly. He scoffs, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, “it’s nothing personal, just company policy.” You reach into your bag once more to take out your own pen, “it’s to cover both of our asses.”

He follows your lead, signing his name on the various lines and not bothering to read all the legal jargon. “Both our asses?” He questions, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s.

You nod, not once looking up from the page. “Mhmm, that way if I get drunk and start blabbing about all the congressmen I’ve slept with and your name comes up, then you can sue or whatever.”

He watches as you flourish the pen along the paper, marking your name and initials down, then meets your eyes when you slide the forms away. His brows are furrowed, “you get drunk and run your mouth a lot?” He asks, tone half joking.

You smile, “I don’t, but some of the other girls aren’t as careful, like to brag about their customers ‘n such.” He hums, sliding his own papers forward to stack on top of yours.

“You good? Ready?” You ask, putting your pen and the papers back in your bag. Bucky replies with a borderline shaky sigh. You squint, not normally the reaction you get from customers. “Everything okay?”

He nods, slow and unsure. “How does this work exactly? Do we just… start?” You shrug. “It can work however you want it to work. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I want to just… talk first.”

His behaviour is a refreshing contrast to the men you normally deal with- their minds are set on getting your clothes off the second you walk through the door.

“That’s fine,” you smile, “we can talk.”

He nods and exhales, like a weight’s just come off his shoulders. “So,” you start, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Right,” he says, like he forgot that having a conversation would require actual talking.

“Um. What got you into…” he trails off, looking for the right words, “this line of work.”

You laugh, “oh this is not my dream job, believe me. I’m just doing this to get through law school, only got one year left. I’m getting out of this business the second I pass the Bar.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow, law school. You go to GW?” You shake your head, “Georgetown.”

“Damn. They've got a good program over there.”

“I know,” you nod, “and expensive.”

“Ah,” he mouths, “hence the…” he gestures between the both of you, referring to the situation at hand.

“Exactly.”

“Parents can’t afford to help you out a little?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that they can’t afford it, they-” you stop yourself with a sigh. Any other customer would get a rehearsed answer about why you’re in this business, but any other customer wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. “My parents died a few years ago, bank gave me a hard time with the inheritance — not that it was a whole lot, and there wasn’t very much left over after I paid off their house & some debts.”

He gives you a sympathetic look, the same one everyone gives after you drop the dead parents bomb. You give him a look that brushes off whatever empathetic sentiment he's conjuring up before he can say it. You shrug, “wanted to go to law school, couldn’t afford it, found a way to afford it. That’s all it is.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking into your eyes like they’ve got some answer he’s been looking for all his life.

“I’m not proud of it,” you add, starting to rationalize and he quickly starts to shake his head.

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you should be ashamed or anything- I mean, fuck I’m the one who- I don't know, hired you? if anything I should be ashamed.”

You huff, “don’t be, you’re... different.”

Bucky smiles at that. “Different?”

“Yeah, most other customers have one thing and one thing only on their mind when I’m around but,” you shrug, “I don’t know, you don’t? I guess? You care about more than just the sex, I mean. At least I think you do. I hope you do."

You add the last part under your breath- you're not even sure why you add it- you know better than to feel anything more than a tolerance for one of your customers.

“Call me old fashioned, I guess.” He jokes. Some of his nerves appear to slough off when you laugh.

“Yeah, something like that,” you reply.

The room falls into a sort of silence, coming about after your laughter fizzles out. It's not awkward though, just like you're both weighing the options of what to say next.

"How about you?" You fill the air with your voice, the question catches Bucky off guard. "What about me?" he answers.

"Why Congress?" You shrug, "being in the history book once isn't enough for you?" It's teasing, but the question behind it still stands: why politics?

He raises his eye brows, bringing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Okay. Calling me an attention seeker?"

You tilt your head, "most of you are. I don't know why else anyone would chose a job where your employer is the fucking general population."

"First of all," he starts, corner of his lip raising in a challenging smirk, "they're called constituents- I work for the great people of Brooklyn, thank you very much."

You laugh, "right, right, constituents. I ask again, why spend your life doing such... thankless work? I'm telling you, 90% of these congressmen & senators have some small dick insecurity or something and need some big, powerful job title to make up for it."

Bucky scoffs, taking a few steps around the kitchen island to stand beside you now, you turn to face him, leaning your side against the countertop.

"Well, I definitely don't have that problem," he says, leaning in close against your ear. His voice sends a pulse down your spine that's received between your legs- husky and low.

He pulls away from you and spots the way your eyes had fluttered just barely shut in response to his breath against your skin. You blink- once, twice- trying to adjust to his new proximity to you. "I guess I had just spent enough of my life hurting people, and I wanted what life I have left to be spent helping 'em instead." He mutters the words, searching through your eyes like he lost something in them and if he looks hard enough he'll find it.

Then his eyes flick down to your lips, for a split second- like he's wondering if he should kiss you or not. But when he shifts just marginally away from you- it seems like he's decided against it. Your breath catches in your throat when he shifts, a jolt of borderline disappointment passing through you.

"Kiss me."

The words leave you before your better judgement can tell you otherwise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

You swallow. "Kiss me," you repeat- more sure this time.

"Kiss you?" He asks like he's trying to make 100% sure he heard you right.

You nod once. "Kiss me. Please."

Bucky absorbs the words, then brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. He drags his fingers down your jaw, before cradling his hand there at the nape of your neck. His calloused fingertips sit just at the back of your head, then he presses them into your skin and draws you towards him. He pulls you in until your lips are just barely brushing against his.

His lips are dry- not chapped, not rough- but dry like they're looking for something to quench their thirst. They're a stark contrast to your own, meticulously glossed over in that perfect shade that brings out your eyes just right.

Then he kisses you- finally, he kisses you. It's painfully soft, and you're immediately craving more. You bring your own hand up to the side of his face, tangling your fingers into his chocolate brown hair as you deepen the kiss.

He hums into your mouth as his eyes fall shut, and brings his other hand- the metal one- to your waist, pulling your body flush against him. You thought it'd feel harsh, mechanical even, but somehow his touch still manages to be soft.

Suddenly all you can think about is what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

You take your other hand up to the other side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer to you, taking a deep inhale when you do. The air you bring in is mix of second hand smoke and vintage cologne, it's undeniably him.

That snaps the last strand of Bucky's control, the last little thread that had him holding on to any chivalrous sense of decency. He's desperate for you. He thought he was in need of connection- of touch, but the second you walked in his door?

He needed you.

More than he'd ever needed anything else before.

He travels both of his hands down to the backs of your thighs, and picks you up in one seamless motion. You're shocked at his strength at first, but them remember who you're dealing with: Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier- he could probably throw you around like it was nothing if he wanted to.

And God, you really hope he wants to.

You wrap your legs around his waist once he's lifted you, and he starts to maneuver you through his house. Walking masterfully through the expanse of hallways within the brownstone without breaking away from the kiss for so much as a breath.

He pushes the door open with your back, taking one hand from under you to flick on the lamp just enough so he can see where the bed is. The dark orange light from the fixture floods the room, bouncing off every available surface & enveloping your bodies in an auburn blanket of warmth.

He lowers you down onto the bed with ease and crawls over top of you. He presses one last firm kiss against your lips before pulling away. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and you can't help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks when you open your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, his tone serious, "I know it's your job to say yes, but- do you want this?" If you say no he'd stop, of course he would, but right now he is praying to every higher power that you'll say yes.

No customer had ever asked you that before- asked the woman beneath the call girl what she wanted. And even if they did- it always came with the silent expectation that despite whatever you might want to say deep down, the answer would always be yes.

You nod, still breathless from the exchange earlier- but that's not enough for Bucky. "Words," he whispers, ducking his head down to the crook of your neck. "Tell me you want this, want me," he says, words muffled against your skin as he kisses it softly.

"Want this," you say, still nodding furiously, "want you."

He groans against your neck, raw and desperate. The vibrations ricochet down your body, landing with a throb between your thighs.

Bucky roams his hands down your body, and slides them under your shirt, splaying his fingers against your stomach. One hand's warm, inviting, sultry. The other- cool and unnaturally smooth. But both are soft, and the juxtaposing sensations makes you squirm.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shirt then pulling it up over your head. You raise your arms to allow him to slide it off of you, leaving your chest covered with just the skimpy black lace bra you picked out before you left.

He travels his kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and across to the top of your ribcage. He moves down your chest, following along the geography of your sternum until his face is buried between your breasts.

One of his hands comes up to cup over the material, inner knuckle of his thumb brushing perfectly across your nipple. You gasp at the new contact, desperate to feel more of him- everywhere.

That sound only encourages him, emboldens him, and before you know it he's tucked his fingers underneath the thin material and is ripping the bra in half at the front seam. He pushes it aside and you shrug off the straps.

This bra was in your all star rotation- it was by far the most flattering one you owned. You should be upset, should scold him with something along the lines of making him buy you a new one, but right now you could not care less about that.

You're yanked from your train of thought when you feel Bucky's lips close around your nipple. His tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing it ever so gently. You arch your back, heaving your chest against him by consequence

He brings his hand to your unattended breast, squeezing and grasping at the flesh in just the right spots before pinching at that nipple.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper, rolling your head back into his mattress while your fingers tug at his long dark strands of hair.

You feel him smirk against your chest, before he picks back up his head and slots his lips onto yours again. “Wanna taste you,” he says through kissing you, “can I?”

“You don’t have to, I’m-“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, “please?”

You nod, slow- but incredibly sure.

“O- okay. Yeah. Sure,” you breathe.

He smiles- like really smiles, then kisses you again1 before descending once more down your body. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your chest and torso, hands working on undoing the clasp of your pants so he can push them off once he reaches the waistband.

He tosses the garment haphazardly somewhere in the room, before hooking his fingers through the band of your panties.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes hooded with lust as he looks up at you for your consent.

You nod- pathetically quick. “Yes. Please.”

The ends of his lips quirk upwards as he pulls the thin lacy material from your legs. It’s too slow- painfully slow. You wish he’d rip them off like he did with the bra.

Once they’re off, Bucky kneels on the floor in front of you, and hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to your clit, leaving a tender kiss over it, before licking a long steep stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands finding his hair again like there’s some kind of magnet drawing them there. You pull his face against your cunt, forcing his tongue into your hole and knocking his nose against your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your hips off the bed and even further into him before he plants you by the hips back into the mattress. He delves his tongue inside you, prodding eagerly through your slick and fucking it in and out of you.

It feels good- feels so good- but it’s not enough.

Your instinct takes over though, months of experience in appeasing men and making them think they’re bringing you to the edge to stroke their ego.

You tone up the moans, raising your volume and repeating Bucky’s name like a mantra. All things to signal that you’re getting close. Your tugs at his hair turn to pulls, thighs pressing around his head, as you lean into the act of an impending orgasm.

It’s not that you didn’t think he could get you there- it’s that you didn’t want him to wait.

“Fuck, Bucky- ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, squirming under him relentlessly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps lapping at your cunt with his tongue.

“Shit- I- fuck, I'm coming, Bucky I'm-" you cut yourself off with a pornographic moan. One perfected through numerous uses, it's always believable. Always makes the man feel good about himself that he 'made a woman cum.'

Bucky doesn't buy it though. Not for a second.

"No you're not," he says, voice stern and words getting muffled against your pussy. The stubble lining his jaw scrapes at your inner thighs when he speaks.

"Does this not work for you?" He asks, pulling away from you and caressing your thighs. You shake your head, "no- I'm sorry it's not that, I just- it doesn't matter if I feel good or not. You're the customer." You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

His hair is disheveled from your hands being rooted in it, his chin and lips coated with your slick.

"Who the hell told you that?"

You shrug, "just common sense I thought."

He scoffs, "yeah well fuck that. Tell me what you want me to do. What you need me to do to get you there- for real."

"To be honest- I don't really know," you start.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, "you don't know?"

You shrug again.

He sits back on his heels, sigh heaving from his chest. "Well, how 'bout this- when you touch yourself, what do you do that makes you cum?" The question's awkward, but for some reason you don't feel opposed to answering.

He traces his vibranium fingers up and down your inner thigh. The cool metal makes your muscles tense. "I want to make you feel good," he says, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me how to go about doing it."

You release a shaky exhale before you speak.

"I need something... inside."

Bucky smirks, "yeah? What's something?"

You shrug, "anything, really. Fingers, toy, dick."

He laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back up at you and leaning back in.

"Well how about," he starts, voice dangerously slow and fingers inching back towards your core, "I give you my fingers now, make you cum on those 'n get you all stretched out for me... Then, I give you the other thing."

You swallow hard, the anticipation building like a knot in your chest.

"Deal?" He asks, tip of his index finger brushing right above your clit. Your breath hitches when you nod. He smiles, "good girl. Now let me make you feel good."

And with that he disappears back between your legs.

Bucky wastes no time and gets right back to business. He wraps his lips around your clit like he never left, and pushes one finger into your tight cunt. He watches eagerly for your body's reaction, indulging in the way your head tilts into the mattress and your eyes roll back in the socket.

"That feel good?" He asks, the vibration against your pussy adds a new layer of pleasure. You nod quickly, "yes- fuck, feels good."

"Good," he smirks, adding a second finger into your hole and curling them inside you, then sucking harder at your clit. The moans slipping from your lips this time are angelic- ethereal, Bucky thinks. They're that beautiful because they're real. The sounds are a tangible demonstration of how good he's making you feel.

You don't notice when he adds a third finger, or when he brings his thumb to rub little circles at your clit, your senses are too bombarded with all the other inputs to register those little changes.

What you do notice, however, is how quickly you come tumbling towards the edge this time- the real edge, the brink of orgasm, not the metaphorical one you created to stroke the egos of your other customers.

Bucky notices too. Notices the way that when you're really close, you don't get louder, but get quieter- your jaw dropped open but no sounds to be heard. The way you clamp your eyes shut and grip onto his hair and the duvet for dear life. The way your hips writhe under him, desperately and subconsciously trying to create more friction for yourself.

He notices it all.

But his favourite thing he's noticed thus far, are the pretty noises you make when you do cum. No showy, perfectly defined moans, but little breathy whimpers that bleed into louder cries of his name as your release gushes out around his tongue.

Music to his ears.

"That's it, just like that, good girl," he coaxes, working you through the high. He gets lost in the way you taste, the noises you make- all of it.

What he doesn't notice that you've already come down from your first high, and so he doesn't stop. Just keeps laving at your slit, sucking at your clit and pumping three thick fingers inside your cunt until he's sending you hurdling towards a second orgasm.

"Oh my- fuckingGodBucky," the last words tumble from your lips in a single syllable as you cum again onto Bucky's tongue. He dips his mouth down, lapping up every last drop of your release like it could grant him eternal life.

When he finally pulls away, hands resting on your thighs to stop them from quaking, he sees the wet marks down your cheeks, and the new crystalline beads forming at the corners of your eyes.

He stands up quickly, a little concerned and hovers himself back over you again. "Hey," he speaks, voice soft, "you okay?" He brushes the hair from your face and the tears from your eyes.

All you can do is nod, breathing too heavy to form any words at the moment. After a second you speak, "felt too good." Bucky laughs, "too good? That sounds like a challenge."

You raise your eyebrows before tracing your eyes down his body, settling on the very evident bulge between his legs. "You did promise me something..." You trail, dragging one finger against him through the jeans. He lets out a strangled sigh at the tiniest bit of friction.

You smirk at your effect on him, before tugging him down to press your lips to his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth, you should be a little grossed out- but you could not care less.

The only thing on your mind right now is getting him inside of you.

You pull him to lie next to you, then roll yourself on top of him, straddling over his bulge and grinding your cunt against him. You moan into each others mouths, Bucky's hands find your ass, squeezing and groping at the flesh while yours move to the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them greedily- unapologetically eager to see what he looks like with nothing on.

He moves his arms to let you slide the shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white tank top which he sits up slightly to take off. You can't help but gawk when he's finally topless. Your eyes wander shamelessly over the expanse of his chest and you trace your fingers along the grooves of his muscles, lingering on the little scars and marks like you're trying to commit them to memory.

"Kids these days don't learn it's not polite to stare?" He says, snapping you out of the trance-like state his shirtless figure put you in.

You scoff, "what's not polite is looking like this and expecting me not to look." You lean down and press a kiss against his lips, "I'm just a girl. I see pretty abs & arms and I stare." You sit back up, shuffling down his legs to sit over his knees, then bringing your hands to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

He raises an eyebrow, "I have pretty abs and arms?" He asks, bending his knees to let you slide the slacks down and off of his legs. You stop dead in your tracks, fingers hooked into his boxers but not pulling them down yet- not when he just said that.

"You're joking, right?" He doesn't say anything, just stares at you with an amused look plastered onto his face, "Jesus Christ have you ever looked in a mirror, Bucky?" You shake your head through a laugh and finally pull his boxers down to free his cock.

You sigh at the sight of him. He's big- this you could assume from the way he carried himself. The confidence he exuded. The way he acted like he didn't have any physical detriments to compensate for.

But he's kind of- obscenely big.

You lick your lips and sweep your hair behind your ears and out of the way, before ducking down to take him in your mouth- but Bucky stops you before your lips even meet his tip.

"Not tonight," he says, "another time."

You raise an eyebrow, "another time?" He smirks, then pulls you up for a kiss, "yeah. Another time," he breathes, before pressing his lips to yours. Just from where you're straddling him, you can feel the head of his cock hitting dangerously close to your clit.

"I don't mean to inflate your ego anymore than it already is," you tease, pulling away to look down at him, "but- respectfully- how the fuck am I supposed to fit that inside of me?"

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then brings one hand to your hip and the other to wrap around himself, tilting it slightly so it lines up with your entrance. "You can take it. Don't worry." He moves you down by the hip just barely, you gasp when the very first millimeter of his cock prods into your entrance.

"Just take it slow, yeah? Take it slow."

He loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you to take the lead and decide how quickly you want to sink yourself onto him. You nod and plant your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, before slowly- so, so slowly- moving down his length.

The stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. A string of profanities floods out of your mouth and your head rolls back. Bucky's eyes threaten to close at the feeling of your walls hugging so tight around him, but he keeps them glued on where your bodies meet- watching intently at the way you swallow every inch of him inside of you.

"Just like that," he drawls, sucking in a breath and resisting every urge to buck his hips up and shove himself the rest of the way in.

"Holy shit, Bucky." Your breathing is ragged once you've finally sunk all the way down onto his length. The pads of his fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, you're sure they'll leave bruises behind but all you can think about right now is how it feels like his cock is about to split you open.

"I know, baby, I know," he stutters, trying to maintain his composure as best he can. "I can't- fuck- too full, I can't," you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes once again.

He pulls you down by the arm, lacing his fingers through yours then kissing you. It's soft, but only for a second. Before you know it he's sliding his tongue in your mouth and rolling you both over so he's on top now. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, and pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

"You want this? Hm?" He pushes a strand of hair from your face, "want me to fuck you?" His tone is cocky, he knows you want him, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, yes- fuck, please," you whimper, still wholly consumed by the feeling of his thick cock inside you. He smirks, "atta girl," he presses one last kiss to your lips- needy and desperate, before drawing his hips back, then slamming them back into you.

You practically scream at his sudden movement, the pleasure and pain of the stretch blending together and making your vision all fuzzy. The pace he sets is slow, but hard. Unrelenting.

Bucky drops his head to the crook of your neck, biting and kissing at your clavicle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots your hand, desperately gripping at the thin linen sheets to ground yourself. He takes it in his, before pulling it to rest on his back. You nails dig in to the musculature almost instantly, summoning a deep groan from within him.

With that same hand, he takes your leg to sit around his waist, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. The new tilt of his cock now knocks perfectly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars, drilling into it with every thrust.

The room is hot, your bodies sticky with sweat. The only thing you can hear is the sound of Bucky's hips smacking against yours, his breathy grunts in your ear with every rock of his body into yours, and your repetitive cries of his name.

The pleasure is everything. It's all consuming, earth shattering- but somehow it's still not enough.

"Please," you breathe, "need- fuck, go faster."

He picks his head up to look at you, "yeah?"

You nod, desperate- begging. "Need more, please."

Bucky scoffs, "need more?" He repeats- almost mocking you. You just keep nodding. "Well alright then," he grunts, and you can hear the smirk playing across his lips.

His next actions happen in a whirlwind. He pulls himself out of your pussy, coaxing a whine from your throat when you suddenly feel so empty. Then with one strong vibranium arm he's flipping you over, your face smushing into the pillow before you turn your head.

He brings the same hand underneath you, cool metal fingers splaying across your lower belly as he slams all the way back inside you. Your eyes go wide, accompanied by a load moan of his name before they're clamping down shut again.

His new rhythm is cruel. He looks down and watches the ripples of your ass with every thump of his hips into yours. Bucky presses the hand he has under you against your skin, he can literally feel himself sliding in and out of you. Can feel how deep he is inside of you.

"Oh my- God!" You choke out the last word when he pushes on your lower belly, walls immediately clenching around him.

He hisses out a breath, "you wanted this, hm? So take it. Be a good doll and take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky 'm gonna cum." Right as the words leave you, all your senses melt into a white hot static as your orgasm rips through your body.

"Yeahhh, atta girl. Just like that- cum on my cock just like that, huh?" His low voice coaches you through it, never once stopping his unrelenting hips against yours.

His hips finally start to stutter, right as his high starts creeping up on him. You can tell from his thrusts getting shallower that he plans on pulling out to finish- while it's the sensible thing to do- it's also the last thing you want him to do.

"Don't," you gasp.

"What?"

"Don't pull out. Wanna feel you, please God, need to feel you."

He wants to ask if you're sure, but before he can form the words he's falling over the edge. He groans your name and shoots his spend deep inside you, marking you- ruining you for anyone else.

Bucky's thrusts into you turn lazy, then coming to a complete halt right before he pulls out of you. One last whimper falls from your lips, your hole feeling both so empty yet so full of him.

"Holy shit," he huffs, sliding his hand from under you and rolling to lie down next to you.

You turn onto your side to look over at him, your eyes still find a way to linger on his chest. Once he cracks his eyes open and sees you ogling him again, he can't help but laugh.

"You've really got quite the staring habit, huh?"

Your lips turn up into a smile, "can't exactly help it."

He shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his breathing finally comes back to a normal pace. The both of you are too tired to say anything, but really- there's nothing that needs to be said.

He wasn't expecting a girl like you to be the one that knocked on his door- nor were you expecting a man like him to answer. Both of you know this was more than just a business exchange. Even though there'd be money deposited in your account after this, it felt different.

This wasn't just a hook up- it was a reckoning.

When Bucky opens his eyes again, there's a different look in them. And when he stares at you, searching through your own eyes for the answer he's been looking for all night- it's like he's finally found it.

He pulls you into him, moving you so that you lay your head on his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair, and traces his hand up and down your shoulder.

Neither of you say anything more, his eyes said it all already- stay.

And you do.

please let me know what you think!!! reblogs & comments mean more than u know!!!

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 days ago

Note

Amazing! Now the opposite: compleatly silent reader. Like they dont make any noise at all and scare the fuck out of everyone.

"AAAAAHH! Shit! How long have you been here?!"

"About two hours?"

"Damn... put some bells on your boots or something"

Dead Silent

Pairing: Poly 141 x Silent!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, mild jump-scare style reactions, slow burn polyamory, established team dynamics, reader is very stealthy (like Ghost x10), mild swearing

Author’s Note: This one was so fun to write! I loved flipping the trope from makes noise constantly to makes zero noise and freaks everyone out. The boys are baffled, scared, and absolutely head-over-boots for you. I might continue this later on so we’ll see! Stay tuned!!

Summary: You’re the quietest thing the team’s ever seen—an operative so silent you sneak up on Ghost. But even without words, you’ve got all four of them wrapped around your finger.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

"AAAAAHH! Shit!"

Soap nearly launched the mug across the mess hall. Kyle yelped beside him, clutching his chest.

You stared blankly, standing directly behind them, tray in hand. No expression. No noise. Just... there.

Gaz took a deep breath. "How long have you been there?"

You blinked slowly.

"About two hours," came the calm response from behind you. Price. The only one seemingly unbothered.

"Two hours?" Soap hissed, eyes wide. "Mate, put some bloody bells on your boots or something."

You sat down without a word, not a single clink from your tray. Not even the scrape of your chair.

Ghost entered just in time to see the aftermath—Soap still twitching, Gaz mumbling to himself, Price sipping tea like nothing happened.

"They jump again?" he asked, glancing at you.

You shrugged.

"You're worse than me," Ghost muttered, almost... impressed.

No one ever heard you coming. Not during drills. Not during breakfast. Not during missions.

Price called it a gift.

Ghost called it "creepier than death itself."

Soap called it "a bloody health hazard."

Even when the team tried to track you on missions, you vanished. You never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, your voice was soft—so soft it made people wonder if they'd imagined it.

One night, during a late recon op, the four men sat around a campfire, chatting low while waiting on a signal.

"She's not even real," Soap whispered, glancing into the woods. "She’s a myth. A rumor. She’s the wind."

"She’s behind you," Gaz said flatly.

Soap whipped around. You were crouched five feet away.

"FUCK—!"

"Didn’t mean to scare you," you murmured, voice as calm and deadpan as ever.

"Didn’t mean—!" Soap clutched his heart. "One day you’re gonna give me a cardiac arrest and I’m gonna thank you for it, aren’t I?"

You tilted your head. "Maybe."

That was the moment Soap knew he was screwed.

Ghost, who prided himself on being the stealthiest of the 141, found himself constantly surprised by your presence. You moved through the base like fog—silent, sudden, and impossible to grasp. But what really got him? You never interrupted. You just... waited. Watched. Listened. It unnerved him at first. Then it fascinated him.

Gaz couldn’t get over the calm in your silence. You didn’t fill the space with noise. You just were. When you did speak to him, it felt like a privilege. A gift. Like the universe had chosen him to receive one of your rare, quiet words.

Price? He watched you like a cat watches a laser dot. Curious. Amused. Then thoughtful. Then entranced. You didn’t need noise to lead. You moved through the world on your own rules. And damn if he didn’t admire it.

The four of them didn’t realize they’d fallen for you until the day you disappeared during a raid.

No sound.

No sign.

Just gone.

Panic wasn’t often in their vocabulary—but it was that day.

Price paced. Ghost scanned rooftops. Soap radioed so much it started glitching. Gaz swore under his breath, loading and reloading a mag without thinking.

Then, as the sun dipped low, you appeared.

Not a sound.

Just walking out of the smoke.

Holding the USB drive they needed.

Covered in ash, completely calm.

"Mission complete," you said softly, handing it to Price.

He didn’t speak. Just grabbed you and pulled you into his arms like he wasn’t going to let you go again.

That night, all four of them hovered. Offering water. Bandages. Blankets. Touches that lingered just a little too long.

"Stay," Soap said, barely more than a whisper.

You nodded once.

Later, curled between all of them in a tangled mess of limbs, you didn’t say a word.

You didn’t need to.

And in the silence, they heard everything.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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kurowrites · 1 day ago

Text

I felt a little inspired. 💁‍♀️

(This is actually the first time in a long time that I've been inspired to write something, so take it for what it is. I do have some ideas for the fellow concubines, so I might write an addition after I've marinated a little longer.)

They had left him alone, ostensibly to let him pack the last of what little luggage he had. Antonius had nodded and smiled as they left, and had not blamed them. If he had been in their position, he wouldn’t have wanted to see the inglorious end of Antonius of Reda, either.

Given away as a child, he had known no life other than that in the royal army. He had been educated and trained there since he was six years old. Coming from poverty, his exceptional skills had allowed him to rise to the rank of captain, but no further.

He had hoped that, in time, he would be able to beat the odds and rise to a senior rank. Not to satisfy his own ego, but because he knew that he would never be able to utilise the full range of his abilities in his current position. Strategy was what he truly excelled at, far more than the battle itself. He knew he would have made an excellent general, and his superiors had known it, too.

But his injury had destroyed this dream. He was not fit for the military any longer, in any position. As it was, he had barely been able to pen a short letter to his sister, letting her know of his dismissal. The pen had been shaking in his hand terribly, leaving unseemly blotches all over the parchment. His writing, another valuable skill he had acquired in the military, had looked entirely unrecognizable even to himself.

It was hard to ignore the taste of bitterness in his mouth.

He still didn’t know how he was supposed to earn a living without a functioning right arm from now on. He would be able to stay with his sister for a while, but with a large family of her own, she couldn’t feed him indefinitely. He needed to carry his own weight. Somehow.

He was morosely staring at the pitiful bundle of possessions that represented the sum total of his thirty-four years of life when he heard a knock. He looked towards the door of his room, almost hopeful. Had his former comrades-in-arms returned?

He strode over to greet them, but instead of the familiar faces of his comrades, he was met with the countenance of a stranger. The stranger was not in military dress, but in a dark blue cloak without markings.

A civilian? Antonius wondered, unsure of how an outsider could have gotten into the military barracks.

“Antonius of Reda?” the man asked. When Antonius confirmed with a nod, the man gestured towards the open door. “Do you mind if I come in?”

As unusual as the appearance of a civilian was in the barracks, Antonius didn’t mind a distraction from his gloomy thoughts. He stepped to the side to let the man enter his small captain’s chamber, the prize he had been given when he had finally been promoted. It had felt like such an achievement back then – his own private room, now to be given to someone else.

The stranger walked in and looked around unhurriedly, taking in the bed and the small desk, which was now clear of his writing utensils and maps.

“Can I help you?” Antonius asked, eventually, when his visitor had been silent for too long.

The stranger cleared his throat.

“Well, this is rather awkward,” he said. “I have a proposition to make, and no good place to start.”

Antonius raised a brow. That sounded suspicious, somehow, but in his current state of despair, he was at least willing to hear the man out.

“A proposition?”

“Indeed,” the man replied, clearing his throat again. “I assume you have no idea who I am?”

Antonius studied the man more closely. The blue coat covering most of his body was still nondescript, but Antonius’ attention was rather caught by the man’s face, now clearly visible in the light of the lamp in his room. Black, longish hair framed an oval face that shone like burnished bronze. Below equally black, thick eyebrows shone two dark brown, upturned eyes that almost looked black in the low light of the room. And there, in the middle, was a long, slightly too prominent nose, ending above a mouth that one might be tempted to describe as sensual, if the man hadn’t been chewing on his lower lip nervously. A handsome face, though slightly too eccentric to be called beautiful.

He could feel his brow knit.

Somehow, he was almost sure that he had seen this face before, but not in the army.

Handsome, but too eccentric to be called beautiful.

Fabian the Third.

The thought struck him like the stroke of a hammer.

Fabian the Third, or, as they sometimes whispered in secret, Fabian the Eccentric. The current King of Edessa.

Antonius stared at his King for what was probably too long, and then hurriedly tried to bow, but the King stopped him.

“No please,” the King said, pulling Antonius up by his elbow. “I’m here to ask a favour of you, there is no need for all that.”

“A favour?” Antonius asked dumbly. What kind of favour could a king possibly ask of him?

Ah.

There was a reason why they called him Fabian the Eccentric.

The King grimaced, as if he could read Antonius’ thoughts.

“Um, well,” the King stuttered. “I did want to ask you if you are willing to join my harem. But,” he quickly added, when he could see Antonius’ reaction to his words, “it’s not what you think. The harem is just a pretence. It’s really a… council, you could say? As a king and ruler, I need sound advice from people who consider not only their own advantage. My current officials and advisors aren’t particularly good at providing that. But then again, I don’t have the authority to simply dismiss them, even though I am the king. So, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands… in a more informal manner. I heard that you’re an expert military strategist, and I need someone on the war council who actually knows what they’re doing. You become my ‘concubine’ and have a stable income, and I gain a military advisor. Everyone is happy.”

Antonius remained quiet.

“All of the members of my harem take on advisory functions, so you will be in good company. The appointment as a concubine would be pro forma only. I would just ask you not to uh… procreate with any of my female concubines, because that would be extremely awkward for everyone involved. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

Antonius tried to process the information he had just been given, not sure if he wasn't currently experiencing a fever dream from a delayed infection of his wound.

“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You’re asking me to join your harem, but it’s not actually a harem, it’s the informal council of the king? And I would be sitting in on the war council? I would be your military advisor?”

“Yes,” the King replied. “I may be the king, but I can’t just formally appoint random citizens – that would cause a lot of upheaval among the nobility. They can’t say anything if I bring my concubines to any meetings, though.”

“And you’ve been governing the kingdom like this?” Antonius inquired, in equal measures curious and horrified.

“Yes,” the King answered, looking somewhat bashful. “It, erm, seemed like the most productive use of a harem?”

Antonius would have a lot to say about this, but this was the King, so he remained silent.

Mostly, he wanted to say, You have to be shitting me.

It seemed eerily close to the fulfilment of all his wishes.

The War Council. That had been beyond even his wildest fantasies. And this lunatic was telling him he would allow Antonius to influence the fate of the kingdom, bypassing some of the most senior nobles in the kingdom. If he was allowed to speak in the war council, he would be of equal rank to every single general in the army.

It was a frustratingly tempting idea. Insane, but tempting.

“What makes you so sure that I won’t abuse my position as your concubine?” he asked out loud.

The King smiled at him.

Antonius noticed that the left side of his mouth lifted a little higher than the right side, giving his smile a crooked appearance.

For some reason, Antonius’ heart started beating faster.

“I may be eccentric,” the King replied, “but I’m not stupid. There’s a reason why I’m still king despite never having been anyone’s first choice.”

The glint of steel in his eyes told Antonius that it would be foolish to underestimate this man. The kingdom had had its fair share of eccentric rulers, but the kingdom had actually become more stable under Fabian the Third’s rule. Even Antonius’ wages had been slightly increased since Fabian had come to power, and his sister had written to him that a new hospital had been built in Reda, catering to the needs of its citizens.

A concubine.

It was not the career he had envisioned for himself, but at least no one would expect him to have full use of his right arm. As long as he could decorously lift some grapes to his mouth, he would be fine.

“Very well,” Antonius said. “I accept your proposition.”

fake relationship but its a king and his concubine that was once an amazing soldier but he couldn’t go up the ranks for whatever reason so the king was like listen. hear me out. you can be my strategy dude. u just gotta be okay w walking around shirtless a lot. and soldier dude is like man that’s an UPSIDE and yknow they end up falling in love

#kuro writes #writing

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nekonaps0 · 2 days ago

Text

Wait... Are you a lesbian??

✦Characters: Ace Trappola, Sebek Zigvolt, Jack Howl ,Ruggie Bucchi, Epel Felmier, Ortho Shroud

✦fem!reader

✦Sooo it’s pride month so I thought it would be funny if I write how some of the boys would react if the reader told them that she’s a lesbian after they think she has a crush on someone in their dorm

Ace Trappola

Ace had been teasing you nonstop for days.

“C’mon, just admit it already,” he grinned. “You’ve been eyeing Cater-senpai all week, haven’t you? Or is it Trey? You’ve got that look in your eyes—”

You finally cut him off with a snort.

“I’m a lesbian, Ace.”

He blinked. “…Wait. Oh. OH.”

He threw his head back with a groan.

“You mean I wasted prime teasing material on a false lead?! Ugh, I need a refund.”

But then he grinned again, nudging your arm.

“Okay, okay… sooo…. Looking for girls?.”

After that he becomes your wingman way too enthusiastically if you ever glance at a pretty girl in the hallway

Jack Howl

Jack had noticed you lingering around Leona more than usual. He didn’t say anything at first. But one day during training, he finally asked,

“Are you interested in someone from Savannaclaw?”

You shook your head with a smirk. “I’m a lesbian, Jack.”

Jack froze.

“…Oh.”

He nodded slowly, taking that in with his usual serious expression.

“Thanks for telling me. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

After that, nothing changed in the best way. He treated you with the same quiet respect as always, but if anyone made weird comments or assumptions, Jack was quick to step in.

“She’s not interested. Back off.”

No drama. Just quiet loyalty.

Epel Felmier

Epel was convinced you liked Vil. “I mean, everyone does, right?” he muttered under his breath one day.

“The guy stupidly perfect. Even you keep staring at him during lunch.”

You laughed. “Epel, I’m a lesbian.”

He froze mid-chew. “…Oh, for real?”

You nodded.

He blinked again, then grinned. “Sick. No wonder you’re cool”

From then on, he’s kind of proud about knowing. You’re the first person he ever knew who was openly queer, and he brags about it a little like,

“Yeah, my friend a badass. You got a problem with it?”

After that, he doesn’t make it weird. And if anyone says anything dumb? He’s suddenly way more serious.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was 100% sure you had a crush on Malleus.

“I HAVE SEEN THE WAY YOU LOOK AT THE YOUNG MASTER,” he accused one afternoon. “DO NOT THINK YOUR ADMIRATION ESCAPES ME!”

You calmly folded your arms. “Sebek. I’m a lesbian.”

Silence….

Complete, stunned silence.

Sebek stood there, mouth opening and closing.

“I… I see. Then… then your loyalty must be of a platonic nature,” he said with a strained kind of drama, like he’d just reworked his entire worldview in under ten seconds.

He cleared his throat. “It is… admirable. Yes. Of course.”

After that, he tries to act as if nothing happened, but you swear he lowers his voice when he tells people,

“She has no interest in men. Her standards are clearly too high.”

He respects it once he adjusts and will viciously defend you from creepy guys.

Ortho Shroud

It started with a very enthusiastic theory.

“You’ve been coming to Ignihyde a lot lately!”

Ortho said, floating at your side with a digital sparkle in his eyes. “You laugh at my brother’s jokes a lot which is statistically rare and you asked him about his game library!”

He spun in a little circle. “I calculate a 79.8% chance you might have a crush on Nii-san!”

You blinked, surprised. “Oh, no—it’s nothing like that. I’m a lesbian, Ortho.”

Ortho paused mid-spin, freezing in place for a solid two seconds.Then:

“Oh! Thank you for telling me!”

He processed it instantly, and his voice was still cheerful, but now a little more thoughtful. “I didn’t realize! That’s really cool! I’ll update my social database!”

A small notification popped up on the holoscreen near his head

“Are you comfortable sharing that with others?” he asked sincerely. “Or should I keep it private?”

You smiled at his consideration. “Keep it between us for now.”

He nodded with a big grin.

“Understood! And for the record! I support you 100%. Love is awesome in all forms!”

Then his expression turned curious.

“Also, I now realize I’ve been filtering my matchmaking algorithms too narrowly! I’ll expand the parameters! Maybe there’s a girl you think is cute?? Want help analyzing compatibility?”

You laughed. “Maybe later.”

From then on, Ortho not only respects your identity but enthusiastically celebrates it. He even adds a rainbow sparkle animation to your contact card in his system (discreetly, of course).

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie noticed you watching someone in the dorm and put two and two together.

“Ey… you got your eyes on someone in Savannaclaw, huh? Better spill before Leona catches wind and starts teasing you.”

You snort and shake your head.

“Not unless one of you turned into a girl when I wasn’t looking. I’m a lesbian.”

Ruggie stares for a beat, then laughs. “HA! Man, I feel dumb now.”

He throws an arm around your shoulder in a friendly way.

“You had me thinkin’ you were down bad for Jack or something.”

Then, teasing smirk: “You know, I should’ve guessed. You never once looked at anyone like they was worth the trouble.”

Afterward, nothing really changed he was still relaxed with you no assumptions, no pressure. Just chill friendship and lowkey protective vibes if anyone makes comments.

..............................................................................................................................

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starkenobi · 23 hours ago

Text

HERO 4 HIRE | Chapter One { nice to meet ya }

masterlist — the pitt x avengers crossover masterlist

Pairing: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x former avenger!reader.

Summary: There's a new regular in The Pitt, a woman prone to stumbles and misfortunes. She always comes when her wounds need stitching and wearing fading bruises, to the point Robby's getting worried. Until her face is all over the news: former avenger tears down crimelord and political connections.

tags: strangers to lovers; violence; injuries; mature; romcom.

a/n: got a bit carried away with the drama, but I hope you guys enjoy this first part! oh, and a special thank you to @jupitersmoon167 for helping me choose reader superhero name!

word count: 4.9k.

— this fic is dedicated to my bestfriend @faethbees luv ya 💜

You showed up one morning, in the quiet period between chaos and the first wave of people from the waiting room. Whitaker came closer to the nurses’ station to find Robby, a worried expression on his face and asking for help evaluating a case. There’s something off, he whispered, don't think she's telling the truth about how she got hurt.

Entering the room, Robby came face to face with a dislocated nose, a cut on the eyebrow, a busted lip and hand with scratches. Adding the old purple bruise in the right eye, it was hard to believe a word you said. A clumsy person that's trying to make big on the fighting ring. It was odd, but they couldn't do much. You were lucid and calm, despite the tiredness, you didn't show any behavior that could confirm their suspicions. So they discharged you like any other patient, quickly forgetting what happened.

Until you showed up again two weeks later.

With a new black eye starting to swell and bruised knuckles.

Then just two days later.

Bruised ribs and a concussion.

And then again one week later.

Sprained foot, bloody knuckles and bloody mouth.

After almost four months of collecting small injuries that required at least three stitches, you officially became a new regular. And with each passing day, Robby became even more worried. To the point where he started thinking about you even outside of his work hours.

He went to work every day wondering if he would find you still alive on his next shift.

The worst part? It seemed like only he cared about your wellbeing, struggling to maintain a professional approach while you kept flirting with him. You were friendly, an extrovert, almost like an orange cat – not a golden retriever, there was a dangerously craziness energy in you, not a silly playful one.

You always showed up around the same time, between the waves of patients, sometimes even carrying a bag full of food for the ed team – something Robby could never understand how you could get it. Other times, you brought coffee especially for him, followed by a ‘you’re the only one, handsome’ or something like ‘just a thank you for your magic hands last time’.

So you talked and flirted, and seemed to quickly know everyone within the department. You gossiped with Perlah and Princess as if you were long-time friends. Even Myrna knew who you were and had a special scandalous nickname for you (Baby Maso).

You were everywhere, but no one seemed to know any deep information about you or your life.

You were an enigma.

A puzzle he couldn't figure out.

A beautiful riddle that he wanted to get his hands on and solve.

Sometimes he had to fight the desire to shut you up with a kiss.

And that's a big damn problem.

“Your Rocky Balboa is here," Jack said as a greeting when he saw Robby approaching.

Robby sighed. "How bad is it this time?"

"Well, stitches on forehead, stitches on right cheek, stitches on left arm, stitches for a stab in the hand. And one dislocated right shoulder.” Jack enumerated. "I must say, looks like gang shit, brother."

Nodding slowly, Robby sighed again. "I know, but the police disagree."

Jack looks at him with raised brows. "For real?"

"Yeah, some detective came here. I reported her on the second visit, y'know?" Robby rubbed his face, already feeling tired and his shift hadn't even started yet. "The detective took her, said he'd keep an eye on her. Then, when I called him again, he said she was telling the truth and just to patch her up."

"Not at all suspicious." Jack whistled low, then got his backpack and threw over his shoulder. "Alright, I'm out. She's on her usual spot, sleeping."

Robby nodded, sighing for a third time. "Thanks, brother. Rest well, see you later."

He slowly made his way to the nurses' station, Dana nodded her head pointing somewhere behind her.

"Don't even bother going to see her. She's gone."

Robby blinked at her slowly. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, Whitaker went there to offer coffee and found the bed empty." Dana said, a knowing smile on her lips, sliding a paper towards him. "She left this, though."

Grabbing the piece of paper, Robby looked for a long moment, then looked to the ceiling as if he would find the answers there.

'See you soon, handsome. I'll bring coffee next time.'

You showing up during the night shift for the first time was a sign from the universe that Robby didn't catch. The following visits to the Pitt were before sunrise, and your injuries got progressively worse.

And whatever you were doing was starting to get to you. Emotionally and psychologically, as if physically wasn't enough. It was easier to notice your exhaustion, like you didn't get a chance to relax properly for just one minute.

“I'm telling you, man, I saw her somewhere before.” Shen insisted, after the ninth time you crashed into the night shift. “I think I've heard her voice on the news.”

Ellis rolled her eyes. “Why would she be on the news?”

“Dunno, can't remember.” Shen shrugged, attention returning to bed 13, where Jack was stitching you up. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah, think so.” Ellis answered, a bit of wonder on her face.

“Broken arm and broken fingers? A sprained foot, bruised ribs and several cuts? She's part of a fight club like Brad Pitt.” The younger attending conspired, crossing his arms as he took turns looking at the board and bed 13.

“Dr. Robby is going to flip tomorrow.” Ellis stated.

That night, Jack thought for a fleeting moment to report you again. Worried about what you got yourself into, but mostly important, worried about the effect you had on Robby's life. In the end, he didn't call anyone. Not even Robby. He let you sleep once again, waking you up before the day shift came. At least, both of you agreed that sometimes Robby didn't need to see how in bad shape you were.

Smiling in gratitude, you walked out silently and disappeared discreetly. No hesitation, even with all your injuries. Jack knew that kind of walk, that kind of behavior. He's seen this before, and deep down he wished to be wrong.

You were back to the ER two weeks later, during the day shift. It was a curse and a blessing. Limping, the cast on your arm shattered, busted lip and a nose bleeding. Dana was the first to notice you, but Princess was the quickest to move to search for Robby.

“Welcome back to the living hours, darling.” Dana greeted, meeting you halfway and turning you to room 8. Her trained eyes quickly evaluated you from head to toes. Nodding to herself, the charge nurse declared, “Robby will be here soon.”

You frowned. “Can't you call, I dunno, Samira?”

“No can do,” Dana shrugged. From where she was standing in the doorway, she could see Princess pointing in her direction and soon Robby was striding over with a worried expression on his face. “Your doctor is already here.”

“Dana, please-”

The charge nurse ignored your call and left you behind, with no time or route to escape, soon enough you were staring into a pair of sad brown eyes. You don't say anything, keeping your mouth shut for the first time since meeting him. Robby let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. Then his eyes roamed over your body, categorizing each wound by priority level.

“Dr. Santos, since you're here, get the necessary supplies to take care of the patient.” Robby ordered, his eyes still locked on you.

You arched an eyebrow, surprised for not having noticed the younger woman's silent approach, but incapable of breaking Robby's stare. Without saying anything, he stepped closer and reached for your face. His touch was gentle, tilting your face to assess the bleeding from your nose.

“Does it hurt?” Robby asked quietly.

His somber expression made you swallow your sassy comment, and whisper cautiously, “No, not anymore.”

He nodded, but you knew he didn't believe you. Robby shifted his eyes lower, narrowing as he noticed the rip in the right thigh of your cargo pants. “And your leg?”

“Fell down funny, but nothing broken or needing stitches.” you answered trustfully, holding back the need to shrug because you knew Robby wouldn't appreciate it.

Letting his hands fall off your face, you instantly missed his touch and warmth. Robby stepped back when Santos returned to the room. He watched the intern arrange the material and put the gloves on, then turned away, declaring a simple, “Dr. Santos, let me know when you finish her treatment. I'll see how the others are.”

“This was as good as a trainwreck,” Santos stated bluntly.

You snorted humorously. “I shouldn't have come.”

Santos didn't comment right away, choosing to wipe the blood from your face. When you were clean and she deemed the bleeding had actually stopped, she muttered closely. “He's always worried about you, y'know? At least when you come, he's sure you're still alive.”

You didn't need to ask her who she meant, it was clear enough. And it made you feel guilty for creating such a deep bond with him. At first, it wasn't anything, just you being silly and trying to distract yourself a little in the middle of the chaos you were in. Of course things quickly changed, there was a spark and connection. You felt greedy coming to The Pitt to get a little dose of Robby. Maybe you were being only selfish in the end.

A voice startled you from your thoughts. “Why can't you listen to me for once, troublemaker?”

Your head snapped towards the voice at the same time Santos turned around. Leaning on the doorframe was the detective responsible for you. You groaned. “Francis, what are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Take a guess, silly.”

“He called you?” you shouldn't feel offended nor sad about the fact, but something inside you didn't like it one bit.

Santos whistled. “Trainwreck.”

You looked incredulously at her. The intern didn't look back, focusing on renewing the cast on your arm.

“He wasn't ratting you out, in fact, he asked me why I wasn't doing my job properly.” Clint had the audacity to snicker, but composed himself after seeing your glare. Clearing his throat, he stated. “I'll give you a ride home.”

Saluting with two fingers, Clint walked away, probably to make a fool of himself to the nurses.

Nine minutes later Robby was back. An unreadable expression on his face and gloved hands. He watched Santos finish the cast on your arm in silence. A tall imposing figure at her back. And when she moved to see your thigh, Robby stopped her.

“Dr Mohan needs help to speed up the treatment of the patients.”

Santos opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but decided against it in the end. Nodding, she glanced at you before leaving in hurried steps.

There's a short pause.

“Do you want me to take off my pants, doc?”

“Jesus Christ,” Robby exhaled shakily, sliding a hand across his face.

“It's fine, I'm wearing lace.” You said softly, giving him a flirtatiously smile.

Robby squared his shoulders, stepping up and standing dangerously too close. His ears and neck turned red. He warned huskily, “Behave.”

You nodded and stayed quiet. Realizing that you would obey his warning, he checked your thigh with a feather-light touch. Robby sighed after noticing the angry bruise.

“I'm sorry for making you worry all the time,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual.

Robby took a breath, nodding once. His brown sad eyes staring at your soul. “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”

Of course he would ask that. You knew that everyone in that ER pretended to believe in your lie (because they couldn't think of a loophole thanks to Clint coming to rescue you). Unfortunately, you couldn't risk telling him what you were really doing in Pittsburgh. Risk him. It was safer for him to think you were a gang member. Or a lunatic. He'd never survive if he knew the mess you were trying to clean up.

So you decided on a promise, you owned him at least that. “Yes, Michael.”

“But not now.”

“No.”

Not wanting to push, he excused himself. “I'll prepare your discharge papers.”

Robby didn't return with the papers.

Clint was the one to come get you, papers in hand. When you got out of the room, Robby was nowhere to be found. So you accepted defeat with a heavy heart, and left without looking back.

Meanwhile, Robby was sitting alone in the break room, cup full of coffee to try and drown his worries.

“She's gone.” Dana declared as she opened the door, raised eyebrow and a knowing look in her eyes. “Thought you'd wanna know the coast is clear, so you can stop hiding.”

“I'm not hiding,” Robby lifted the coffee he was holding. “See, I'm taking five to recharge.”

“The detective is handsome, right?” Frank joined them at the break room, a little smirk on his lips. “Blonde, fit, husky voice, blue eyes…”

“Came running to her rescue like those movie heartthrobs.” Dana sassed.

“Fuck.” Robby groaned, standing up and swiftly walking between them to get back to work.

Frank called after him, “Just saying!”

Like other times, you didn't come back to the follow-up care. However, Robby felt in his gut something was definitely wrong. The detective didn’t answer his calls, but sent an ominous text saying you were fine and staying low, whatever the hell that meant. The routine in the ER continued, forcing Robby to focus on patients and the chaotic rush of managing residents, interns and students. The worst part was when he was home alone. He tried to drown his thoughts and worries about you with housework and sleep.

You were gone for two months. Robby wasn't sleeping well, he felt like a ticking time bomb. And it got worse with Dana and Jack constantly asking if he was okay. He definitely wasn't. Detective Francis came by once during the night shift, handed over a note signed by you. Robby asked Dana to read it first, his heart clenching in his chest as he waited for the worst. He was always expecting the worst. When he heard Dana laugh, he felt his shoulders slump in sheer anxiety.

'Broke my old phone. And then noticed that I never directly gave my number to you. I'll be quitting my job soon. So let’s go out on a date, okay? I’ll wear something nice just for you.'

You were trouble. So much trouble. You’re gonna be the death of him. But that stupid note made him smile and feel like he was his stupid 20s something all over again. He texted you a simple ‘behave’ and kept smiling for the rest of the shift. Robby didn't even mind Dana and Jack teaming up to make fun of him. He went home making planes, thinking that maybe, just maybe, everything's going to finally work out for him. After almost one year of you turning his mind upside down, he should known better.

Night shift was finally slowing down around midnight, only two patients were staying until morning. Jack was updating the charts while Shen and Ellis bickered over some dumb shit they saw online when the radio crackled to life. Woman with multiple trauma, in her 30s, crashing down. ETA 3 minutes. The team was quickly to move.

Shen and Ellis went outside to help the emts with the victim. Jack stood back to prepare the trauma bay with the rest of the staff. No one was prepared to see you on the stretcher, completely covered in blood, unconscious and at death's door. Jack felt like he had been thrown back to when he was out in the field saving soldiers years ago.

“Bridget, call Robby now!” Jack yelled, his voice hard and determined.

Jack always knew this moment would come, at least it was him taking you to the OR. And he knew that whatever happened there, Robby needed to be here too. Robby would never recover if he wasn't by your side at a critical moment like this. Would never forgive himself. In the mean time, Jack would gladly Jack would gladly take the burden of opening your chest, to stop the internal bleeding, search all the bullets, cauterize all your wounds, fix your broken bones, make your heart beat with his own hands. It took hours, but Jack wouldn't lose you at that table.

Robby arrived in the ER like a raging river. Bloodshot eyes, hyperventilating, trembling hands, messed hair. He didn’t hear or see anyone around him, no one was capable of preventing him from reaching the OR. The worst part? He didn’t scream or cry out loud, his legs just gave up right there at the door.

He watched silently as Jack, Shen, Ellis and Walsh worked together with the rest of the team to save you. Rocking back and forth, Robby covered his ears but was unable to look away. There was so much blood. It was as bad as Pittfest, maybe worse, because all that blood covering floor, machines and feets was just yours.

“Please. Oh, God. Please. Not her too. Not her.” Robby repeated in a weak voice, drowned out by all the chaos.

It wasn't until he came face to face with Jack that he realized you were no longer at the table. He felt all the air escape him, heart in his throat. There was a ringing in his ear, he couldn't understand what Jack was trying to say. Robby closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the nose. Then, he looked into Jack's eyes for answers.

“She’s fine, brother. She’s alive. Breathe. We’ve got her.” Jack repeated over and over, waiting for Robby to come to his senses.

He sucked in a breath, hands clasping on Jack’s shoulders. “She’s safe?”

“Yeah, brother.” Jack nodded, watching him closely. He held Robby by his arms and helped him get up. “We took her to the pedes room, for privacy and safety. She’s gonna stay with us.”

“What the hell happened?” Robby questioned, dragging his hands on his face before looking around the now empty OR.

“I don’t know, man.” Jack shook his head, at loss. Then added, “I asked Shen and Ellis to find out, thought. Let’s get out of here. Wanna see her?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly.

Jack accompanied him to the pedes in silence. When they stopped walking, Jack looked at him carefully. “She’s sleeping now, so stay as longer you need and then meet me at the hub.”

Left alone, Robby took several deep breaths before finally opening the door and getting inside the pedes room. You were right in the middle, lying in bed with an oxygen mask and wires connecting you to the machines. He slowly came closer, standing beside your bed. His eyes analyzed every bruise, every detail. with trembling fingers, he caressed your face and brushed away the hair that had fallen into your face. You were gone for two long months and now you were there. He almost lost you on the same day his heart had filled with hope of having a chance with you. A broken laugh escaped him, the overwhelming turmoil of the situation catching him once again.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Robby whispered wrecked, eyes still wet from all the tears and voice raw of emotion. He leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

He didn’t linger. Opting to search for Jack and get answers. He took one last look at you and carefully closed the door behind him. He found Jack and the others with one of the tv of the hub turned on the news. Frowning, Robby hurried his steps.

'Former avenger member known as Shrike tears down crimelord, and brings to light political corruption and executives connections linked to the growing wave of violence and crime in Pittsburgh. Witnesses at the scene helped the hero who was seriously injured in the aftermath, but no one knows where she was taken. What we know is that Shrike's face is all over social media for the first time after bravely using her helmet to disarm a criminal who was holding a child hostage–'

“Oh Lord,” Robby gasped, the world around him tilting down. He closed his eyes tight, hands supporting his weight on the nurse’s station.

“I knew it!” Shen squealed somewhere behind him, voice full of enthusiasm. “I said I heard her voice on the news!”

“Shut up, Shen.” Ellis elbowed him hard in the stomach. Shen let out a faint grunt of discomfort but fell silent.

Jack came closer, standing beside him and squeezing his shoulder. “She’s gonna be okay, brother.”

“I could have lost her and I wouldn’t have know.” Robby whispered, mind still reeling trying to process all the situation. “All this time I thought-”

“Does it matter now?” Jack tilted his head, trying to make eye contact with his friend, a serious expression on his face. “You can't blame yourself for a disguise she created for safety.”

Suddenly, rushing through the ambulance area, Detective Francis materialized in front of them. No, not detective Francis. Clint Barton, the avenger Hawkeye. He was still dressed in his suit, but he was carrying the famous purple bow and arrows. Robby was glad that the ER had reached a lull, with few patients to witness the situation.

“How is she?” Clint asked, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and squinting his eyes because of the bright light. “Got held up finishing the cleaning.”

“You.” Robby hissed.

Clint raised an eyebrow, scratching his chin unperturbed. “Yeah?”

Jack sighed. “She had surgery and is under observation. She lost a lot of blood, we removed seven bullets. Her right arm was broken in three places, had a deep cut on her temple and head trauma.”

“Well, it could be worse.” Clint nodded, shoulders relaxing. He offered a crooked smile, “She’s had worse, actually. But thank you for taking care of her stubborn ass.”

“He's so cool,” Shen whispered to Ellis, but loud enough to be heard.

Everyone ignored Shen’s comment.

“I'll take you to where she is,” Jack offered, hand pointing to the path in invitation. “I think it's best not to draw any unwanted attention right now.”

“Right.” Clint sighed, starting to follow Jack. Stopping abruptly to face Robby. “For what it’s worth, she took your safety into consideration. It's personal to her.”

The hero then followed Jack's footsteps again, disappearing down the hallway to the most secluded and discreet room in the ER.

Robby let out a shaky breath, leaning forward again, tense shoulders and head in hands. He felt like shit. Emotions and reason at war inside him. He kept repeating in his mind that she's alive, she's alive, she's alive, she’s alive like a mantra. But he remained afraid that he would wake up at any moment and be told that she had died on the trauma table.

Jack found him a few minutes later, at the ambulance entrance, sitting against the hospital wall. Knees close to the chest, arms resting on his legs and hands holding his head. Getting closer, he noticed that Robby had tears on his face, but he wasn't crying desperately like before. Jack stopped beside him, leaning against the wall, and drew in a long breath. Looking at the watch on his wrist, it was already two in the morning.

“She’s awake,” he informed, an incredulous huff escaped him. “The cut on her temple is superficial now.”

Robby snapped his head up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“The little shit has a slight better healing metabolism, according to the hawkguy.” Jack shook his head, still not believing everything that happened. “Not like the crazy dude called dead something, or like Captain America, but there’s something. That’s what he said.”

Throwing his hands up, Robby cursed softly. “It just gets better and better the emotional rollercoaster.”

“Go home, brother.” Jack said, after looking at his friend for a long moment. “Try to rest a bit before your shift.”

Robby nodded once, slowly getting up from the ground. “Yeah, guess I’ll need all the rest I can get.” Glancing at Jack, he smiled faintly. “Thank you for calling me.”

“See you in the morning.” Jack replied, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

Rest was forced due to exhaustion. Robby barely touched the bed and passed out, everything that happened that night catching him as a wrecking ball. Four hours of sleep later, he was re-entering the ED grounds. The place bursting with energy more than normal, night shift and day shift staff completely agitated.

Dana approached him before he could reach the hub, her expression a mix of seriousness teetering on the edge of mischief. “Glad you decided to join us. Your circus has been on fire for too long already.”

Confusion settled onto his features, “I didn't get enough sleep to deal with any shit before clock in.”

“Oh, you're going to want to get involved in this one.” Dana snickered with a smirk. “Pedes room rings you a bell?”

Robby straightens up at that, glancing worriedly at the nurse charge. When she didn’t elaborate, he changed his route. Hurried his steps towards the pedes, throwing his backpack in the locker on the way. Jack was already there, standing at the pedes’ door with Shen and Perlah.

“What’s going on?” Robby asked, worried eyes trying to catch a glimpse inside.

Jack held up a hand to stop him, “She’s awake and has visitors-”

“I should make a birdcage and lock you two in there! That's not being careful!” a male voice boomed inside the room, making Jack fall silent. Despite the volume, the voice sounded more worried and exasperated than anything. “That's why I created your fucking suit, to avoid shit like this!”

“What the fuck?” Robby muttered.

Shen giddly chimed in, “Tony Stark in the flesh, dude.”

“He came from the roof not even twenty minutes ago.” Perlah informed dutifully, arms crossed.

“It's time enough,” Robby muttered.

The door opened suddenly. Tony who was about to leave stopped abruptly. He looked from Jack to Robby, and then Shen and Perlah, before his focus returned to the two senior attendants.

“I’ll be contacting the hospital for a donation to the ED as a thank you.” Tony declared simply, he glanced inside the room towards the bed before fixing Robby with curious eyes. “Take good care of her, that's my only warning.”

Without missing a beat, you hissed behind him. “Tony!”

“That’s my cue, I know the way out.”

And just like that Tony Stark, the famous IronMan, passed like a hurricane. Clint was the next to come to the door, a tired expression on his features. “Thanks again, guys. I’ll be going too for now. Gotta sleep.”

“You were drooling not even half an hour ago!” You retaliated, arms crossed petulantly.

“She’s all yours, man.” Clint said, clapping Robby’s shoulder and ignoring you. He then turned to Jack, “Can you help me gather everyone of the night shift? Wanna know everyone’s names.”

It was obvious why the hero was asking that. So Jack just nodded, and tilted his head for Shen and Perlah to go with him. The four of them quickly left Robby alone with you. He remained rooted in the doorway, staring at you on the bed. Looking breathtaking. As if you hadn't given him a terrible panic attack out of fear of losing you forever before he even had the chance to hold you.

“Are you going to stand there forever?”

You asked, eyes full of vulnerability. He didn’t answer out loud, just crossed the threshold and closed the door. He came closer with careful steps, taking one of your hands into his. You stared at each other in silence, then Robby brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“Please, don’t scare me like this again.” he pleaded. “I thought I was going to lose.”

You drew a sharp breath. “Michael-”

“I know you had to do what was necessary, sweetheart.” He cut you off softly, kissing the palm of your hand before bringing to his face. “I’m proud of you, don't get me wrong. But you’re important to me.”

“So,” you started, using your hand holding him to tilt his face down towards you, nose brushing against his. “You already know everything?”

“That you’re the amazing Shrike? That I want to know you inside out? Date you? Love you?” Robby whispered on your lips, almost touching. “Yeah, I already know.”

You closed the distance and kissed him, heart fluttering overwhelmed with emotion. His arms held with care, but he kissed you back all-consuming. Months of pent up emotions and tension pouring into the kiss. He licked hotly into your mouth before breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, sighing deeply in contentment.

“What do you think about home-cooked meal on a first date?” Robby breathed, one eyebrow shooting up in amused curiosity.

“If it's you, Michael, then it's perfect.” You whispered sweetly.

“Good, because you’re not leaving my sight anytime soon.”

Your laughter echoed through the room, making Robby smile goofily. Yeah, maybe, just maybe everything's going to finally work out.

thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

#the pitt x reader #the pitt x avenger!reader #michael robinavitch x avenger!reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #the pitt x marvel #starkenobi writing #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fic #dr robby imagine

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fiastomatocheek · 1 day ago

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MOMMY, WHAT IF…?

pair: dad!luke hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, family, domestic.

warnings: none! just heaps of family fluff and heart-squeezing sweetness.

summary: it’s pizza-for-breakfast sunday, and lucy is ready with her usual table-side interrogation. but this time, her questions about her parents’ love story take a tender turn. from wondering if she’d still exist to asking whether luke cried when he saw you in a wedding dress, lucy unknowingly reminds her parents just how magical their story truly is.

fia’s note: maybe some of you might be getting a little tired of all the lucy ideas but truthfully, i’m still very much obsessed with dad!luke and lucy. actually, i don’t think i’ll ever stop writing this series 😭 i could probably write 100 parts and still have more to say. but if you’re feeling a little over the dad!luke content, feel free to skip this one and hopefully i’ll see you in another fic soon! thank you so much to everyone who’s been reading and supporting, it means the world.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka @silvenyy @voidvannie @itsonlyaddi

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | yap & fic

Pizza-for-Breakfast Sunday is a sacred tradition in your house that had started as a joke and quickly become a favorite.

Luke stood barefoot, sweatpants, carefully sliding slices of breakfast pizza onto plates. You were leaning against the counter, still in your comfy pjs, watching Luke multitask with an ease.

And at the island sat Lucy, your brilliant, soft-hearted daughter, wearing a bunny robe and holding her ever-present stuffed rabbit under one arm.

She had that look. The one that meant she wasn’t just here for pizza.

Luke noticed it too.

“She’s loaded up,” he whispered to you, smirking as he brought over the plates.

“I can see the questions forming.”

“She’s been rehearsing in the mirror again, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, 100 percent.”

Lucy cleared her throat dramatically.

“Snoopy. Mommy. I have a few questions.”

There it is.

“Go on, baby,” you said as you took your first bite.

She tilted her head. “Mommy, what was Nana like when you first met her?”

You smiled softly, leaning back in your chair.

“She was so warm. Nana hugged me like she already knew me. She smiled and said, ‘Finally! I get to meet the girl who turned my son into a walking love song.’”

Luke groaned. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was sweet,” you said.

“Nana asked Mommy questions about my family, work, and then she pulled me aside and said, ‘You’re very special. Don’t let him get away with too much.’”

Lucy giggled. “That sounds like Nana.”

Luke chuckled. “It is Nana.”

Then Lucy leaned forward, serious as a judge.

“Mommy… did you pick Snoopy from a line of daddies?”

You blinked. “A line of daddies?”

“Like, they were all standing in a row, and you walked past each of them like, ‘Hmm, nope. Hmm, nope. Oooh, this one! This one looks like he gives good hugs.’”

Luke nearly choked on his juice.

You reached over to ruffle Lucy’s hair.

“No line of daddies, baby. I didn’t pick him from a parade. I picked him from the whole world.”

“Why?” she asked.

You looked over at Luke, “Because he was different. Daddy didn’t just make Mommy laugh, he made me feel safe. He looked at me like I was magic. He showed up for me, even when things were hard. And everytime I tried to imagine a future without him… it just felt wrong. He was always it for me.”

Luke reached under the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“And Mommy was it for me.”

Lucy sat with her chin in her hand, nodding slowly.

“Okay. That makes sense.”

Then, with zero warning, she asked, “Mommy, if you hadn’t married Snoopy… would I be someone else… Lucy?”

You blinked. “That’s a big question for a six-year-old.”

“I am six and a half,” she said proudly.

You smiled. “If I hadn’t married Snoopy, there wouldn’t be a Lucy at all. Not you, not the way you are now.”

“But then where would I be?”

Luke stepped in, his voice soft.

“You’d still be somewhere… maybe just waiting. But we’re really glad we found eachother when we did. Because you’re the best part of us, Luce. We couldn’t have dreamed of anyone more perfect.”

Lucy looked thoughtful. Then she whispered, “Good, I like being me.”

“We love you being you,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She beamed. Then turned to Luke with renewed energy.

“Snoopy. Did you ask Nanna and Pappa before you married Mommy?”

“I did,” Luke said proudly.

“I asked both. Nanna squealed, and Pappa gave me a serious handshake and said, ‘Good choice. Don’t screw it up.’”

Lucy gasped. “Pappa said ‘screw it up?!’”

You and Luke burst into laughter.

“He was joking, I think,” Luke added quickly. “Mostly.”

Lucy smiled wide. “Did you cry when Mommy walked down the aisle?”

Luke blushed. “A little.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

“Okay, a lot. I wasn’t prepared. Mommy was so beautiful and smiling at me like I was the only person in the world.”

“What about you, Mommy?” Lucy asked. “Did you cry?”

You nodded. “Only a tiny bit. When I saw Daddy crying first.”

Luke grinned. “I started it.”

Lucy hugged Button tighter. “That’s so romantic.”

Then, with a dramatic pause, she delivered the next blow.

“But… Snoopy… what if Mommy never said yes to you?”

You and Luke stay stilled for a second.

“Then I’d still be out there,” he said gently.

“Trying again. And again. Everyday. Until Mommy saw how much I loved her. Until she said yes. Because I never wanted anyone else. Just Mommy.”

Lucy clutched her bunny to her chest. “Snoopy, you’re lucky she said yes.”

“I know I am,” Luke whispered, brushing your hand again beneath the table.

Lucy sighed dramatically.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough for today. I do have three more questions.”

You smiled. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’m saving them for next Pizza Sunday.”

Luke leaned in. “Should I be nervous?”

“Hmm… Extremely.”

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bellfilmz · 21 hours ago

Text

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Nerdy!Rafe x cheerleader!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Cheerleader!Reader always thought Rafe Cameron was just the quiet nerd in the back of the class—until she started finding the notes.

𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

⸻

Rafe had been good at hiding it.

For months, he played the part—the quiet, overlooked nerd in the back of the classroom, glasses low on his nose, hoodie pulled up just enough to keep from drawing attention. He did his work, got his perfect grades, and spent the rest of the time watching her.

The cheerleader with the short skirts and the high ponytail, the girl who smelled like vanilla and sugar when she walked by his desk. She was everything he wasn’t supposed to have, everything that made his stomach knot up and his fingers tighten around his pencil.

She had no idea, of course. No idea that every little giggle, every flip of her hair, every bounce of her skirt when she jumped during practice was burned into his brain. No idea that he spent nights thinking about her hand wrapped around himself, groaning her name into his pillow.

At first, he kept his distance. He was patient. But patience only lasted so long when she was right there, every day, smiling, laughing, stretching in ways that made his jaw clench.

So he let himself slip.

It started with the notes.

Slipped into her locker when no one was looking. Nothing too obvious at first just compliments, sweet and simple.

You looked pretty today.

Nice routine at practice.

Your new lip gloss looks good on you.

But the more he watched her, the more he wanted.

The notes got bolder.

You don’t know how fucking good you look in that skirt. I wonder if you moan as pretty as you smile. If you knew what I thought about you at night, you’d run.

Except she didn’t run.

She started looking. Scanning the halls, fidgeting with the notes, her cheeks red. And then, one afternoon, after the final bell rang, she found him.

“Cameron.”

His last name. Sharp, accusing.

Rafe barely had time to react before she grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him back against the lockers, eyes narrowed, the latest note crumpled in her fist.

“Is this you?”

His lips twitched. Busted.

He looked down at her, taking his time, because this was better than he ever could’ve planned. She was close so close he could smell that vanilla perfume, so close he could see the way her pulse jumped in her throat.

Instead of answering, he reached up, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and smirked.

“I was hoping you’d figure it out.” His voice was lower, rougher than normal.

She blinked, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“I—what?”

Rafe leaned in, his hands sliding into his pockets.

“Now… what are you gonna do about it?”

⸻

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝.

#obx fanfiction #obx x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx fic #rafe blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

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lyngracetalksnwritesnstuff · 2 days ago

Text

Yilling Wei Sect AU

Lan Wangji remembered the day the Jiang arrived at the Cloud Recesses. They were quiet and sad, white mourning sashes adorning their robes.

The Jiang Head Disciple had died earlier that week, Wangji remembered. Wei Wuxian. He'd heard about the boy, how he was a brilliant cultivator with a good heart. Apparently, he'd been on a night hunt with Jiang Waynin and tried to lure away the beast they were fighting so Jiang Waynin could get their injured shidi and shimeis away from danger, and was torn to pieces.

They only found bits of flesh and his sword.

All the Jiang disciples are quiet and well-behaved that year. Even Jiang Waynin, who was known for his bad temper, was surprisingly subdued and only exploded a few times.

Then the Cloud Recesses burned, and Wangji was sent to a reeducation camp. Wen Chao forced them to do what was arguably the Wens' job: looking for yao and the biggest and best beasts that would bring them the most glory. It was shameful.

One day, before they were set to "night hunt," their swords mysteriously appeared in a hidden cavern they used as a secret infirmary for those who were injured. With them, they freed themselves from the camp and made their way back to their sects.

Wangji wondered who had given them their swords. Had it been a Wen, unhappy with their current rule? One of the sect heirs, tired of being prisoners?

He didn't have time to ponder such trivial matters as Lotus Pier was attacked next, blamed for the escape of the sect heirs.

The Wens attacked Lotus Pier and failed.

No one knew quite how, just that their Lotus Shield had somehow been reinforced, and was much stronger than it normally had been, giving the Jiang time to prepare and coordinate an attack that drove the Wens out with minimal casualties.

Wangji began to wonder if there was someone secretly helping them against the Wens. If so, why didn't they show their face? What did they gain from defeating the Wens?

They are losing the war. They don't have enough soldiers, and the Wens are gaining ground quickly. Desperate, they turn to the smaller sects and even rogue cultivators for help.

Then the Wens try to take Yilling.

Then the Wens fail to take Yilling.

It shouldn't have happened. Yilling was a small, undefended town.

Or so they thought.

Wangji begins to hear whispers of a legend, the Yilling Patriarch, guardian of outcasts and street children, all who are lost or persecuted.

Many vote against it, but they are very desperate at this point, and willing to grasp at straws if it gives them the slightest advantage against the Wens.

So they send a message to this local myth. A letter formally asking for assistance and an alliance so that the Wens are pushed back and crushed.

They were in the middle of a war council when the Yilling Patriarch waltzed into the Nie banquet hall. Wangji immediately knew it was him, because who else could it be? He wore red and black robes and a silver-black-red mask. He couldn't quite see what he looked like, as something prevented him from seeing all of him at once, only giving him pieces he was unable to put together.

There were gasps and shouts as people scrambled to stand or draw their swords. The Yilling Patriarch was flanked by a stern-looking woman who raised her hand to silence the uproar.

"My name is Wen Qing," she started. "I was sentenced to death in the burial mounds by Jin Guangshan along with my village of peaceful Dafan Wen about half a year ago. We mean no harm unless harm comes to us. This is the Yilling Patriarch. I am his voice, and I will speak for him."

Nie Mingjue, Xichen, and Wangji shot enraged looks at Jin Guangshan. That had not been a sanctioned sentence, as the Lan and Jiang were the ones in charge of war prisoners. Meng Yao, surprisingly, also shot a disgusted look his father's way.

"Will you help us?" Jiang Fengmian asked. He had become haggard with war and looked very, very tired. Wangji pursed his lips, not liking the sudden intrusion.

"We will. But first, we have conditions." Wen Qing said. She was a commanding presence, and Wangji could see some of the other cultivators eying her warily.

"Name them then," Nie Mingjue commanded. Wanji could see that many of the sect leaders were getting impatient.

"First, we want a guarantee that we will not be prosecuted after we win this. I would like to make it clear that I voted against helping you and letting the Wen wear you down a bit, but he insisted, and you are, to put it bluntly, getting crushed by the Wen." Wen Qing demanded, her eyes sharp and unfeeling. Wangji frowned at this and saw Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange uneasy looks.

Jiang Waynin looked downright furious, as did many other sect leaders, including Jin Guangshan. Jiang Fengmian kept his calm composure and nodded.

"That is acceptable," He said.

"Second," Wen Qing started. "To ensure you don't go back on your word, we want a marriage alliance with one of the great sects. Since the Jiang and Jin are already taken or about to be sect leaders, Nie Huaisang or Lan Wanji will do."

This caused another uproar, and Jiang Fengmian held up his hand, rubbing his temples. Wangji shot a panicked look at his brother, who gave him a pleading one in return. We don't have a choice, the look said. We need to win this. Please.

Wangji pursed his lips, but nodded begrudgingly. He didn't want to be the reason the Yilling Patriarch refused to lend the help that could win the war.

"Why should we offer one of our own to you in the first place?" Jin Guangshan asked haughtily.

"To speak frankly, Jin Zhongzu," Wen Qing said tersely. "You are losing this war. Badly. So, unless you want to become subdugated by the Wen and live the rest of your lives in prison camps..." She and the Yilling Patriarch moved to walk out the door.

"Ah! Let's not be hasty now," Jin Guangshan hurried to reclaim their attention. "I'm sure one of them will be willing."

"Huaisang is out, he's my only heir," Nie Mingjue explained, looking very unhappy at the prospect of an arranged marriage with the Yilling Patriarch.

"Wangji will do it," Xichen said firmly. He looked older, tired, and Wangji reminded himself that at least he wasn't getting married to a woman as he'd always thought he might be one day.

Wen Qing nodded. "We will hold the wedding in a few days."

"If you don't mind," Xichen started. "I feel that it's fair to give us some idea of what help you will be providing and how."

Wen Qing nodded. "We have numbers and powerful cultivation techniques. I won't elaborate on them, you'll see them in action when we next fight the Wens. I am a trained doctor and can assist in the medical tent. We also have a few people in Qishan, so we can provide intelligence as well."

"What territory do you have? We know you've protected Yilling, but that hasn't happened anywhere else." Nie Mingjue asked.

"We control Yilling and the surrounding land, as well as the Burial Mounds." Wen Qing stated calmly.

"You control the Burial Mounds? How?" Yao Zhongzu demanded.

"Respectfully, Yao Zhongzu, that is none of your business. Most of us reside in the Burial Mounds after the Yilling Patriarch cleansed it enough to be livable."

This caused a third caphocany of arguing sect leaders. Wangji wished he could cover his ears without being disrespectful because they were loud.

"Silence!" Nie Mingjue roared.

"Yilling Patriarch, how did you manage that incredible feat?" Jin Guangshan asked, all sugary and polite.

"It was done out of necessity. And to answer the question you're not asking, yes, all of the people you've thrown into the Burial Mounds are alive and well and being looked after." Wen Qing's voice was venomous as she stared down Jin Guangshan, who looked considerably nervous at her words.

Soon after, the meeting was adjourned and Wangji was whisked away for wedding preparations. The ceremony was held a few days later and soon, Wangji was married to the Yilling Patriarch.

It was surreal. Wangji didn't feel married. He hadn't spoken with the Yilling Patriarch, hadn't even seen his face. Yet now they were bound in matrimony.

It was three days after their wedding that the Yilling Patriarch first aided them in battle.

Wangji remembered feeling his heart sink to his knees when the Yilling Patriarch pulled out his dizi. They were surrounded by Wen, and it looked like they might be taken captive.

Then the Yilling Patriarch began to play.

It was a haunting melody, evoking feelings of unsettlement and fear. Were it simply a song, Wangji would've aplauded his musical prowess and creativity.

But it was not just a song.

Corpses began digging themselves out of the ground, rotting flesh and scorched rags filling Wangji's vision as the corpses chased the Wen down, eviscerating them. There was blood everywhere, and Wangji saw one of the fierce corpses tear out a man's heart and devour it hungrily.

The Yilling Patriarch played on, unfazed.

Wangji's husband was a demonic cultivator.

It was the first time Xichen had seemed to truly regret marrying his brother off.

"I'm sorry," He murmured, hugging Wangji after they escaped, mostly uninjured. "I'm so sorry."

The war passed on quickly after that, and soon they were at Nightless City, fighting off Wen guards to get closer to Wen Rouhan. His sons were dead at this point. Wen Chao killed by the Yilling Patriarch, and Wen Xu slain by Nie Mingjue.

Everyone stood, shocked, when suddenly the war was won. Meng Yao stood, covered in blood, behind Wen Rouhan, a knife sticking out of the former sect leader's back.

Jin Guangshan was the first to make a move, offering a place at Jinlintai for Meng Yao.

Wangji was quietly furious. Meng Yao, for all his flaws and concerningly fluid morals, already belonged to the Nie. Who was Jin Guanghshan to attempt to claim the glory that rightfully belonged to Meng Yao for himself?

"This one is deeply sorry, Jin Zhongzu. But I already belong to a sect." To everyone's shock, Meng Yao moved to stand next to Wen Qing and the Yilling Patriarch, who'd arrived on the scene rather quickly.

"Meng Yao?" Nie Mingjue growled, prompting for an explanation.

Meng Yao smiled sadly. "Nie Zhonzu has been very good to this lowly one. Some of the Jin and Nie guards, however, were not. I was thrown into the burial mounds on my way to infiltrate Wen Rouhan's court. The Yilling Patriarch and others who already lived there found me and took me in. I am forever indebted to them."

Jin Guangshan looked briefly incensed before calming his face. Nie Mingjue looked furious, though Wangji didn't think it was directed at Meng Yao. Xichen just looked so, so sad.

The Yilling Patriarch didn't speak, but ruffled Meng Yao's hair affectionately.

"Hmph, there are no debts among family." Wen Qing frowned, placing her hand on his shoulder. It was an achingly familiar gesture, one that spoke of support and familial love. Wangji was not jealous. He wasn't. Really. Xichen is amazing.

Wangji was whisked away to pack his things soon after. He was being taken back to the Burial Mounds with the Yilling Patriarch, Wen Qing, and Meng Yao.

"You shouldn't visit right away," Wen Qing instructed Xichen, who was hovering near Wangji's tent. "Wait a few months, otherwise it might look bad."

Xichen looked sad, but complied, tentatively reaching out to pat Wangji's shoulder once he was done packing. Wangji pulled him into a hug, surprising both of them.

"I'll visit in a few months," Xichen promised when Wangji pulled back. "And you can always visit me."

Wangji nodded, bowing to his brother before leaving with the Yilling Patriarch.

The Burial Mounds were nothing like Wangji had expected. The last time he'd passed by them, many years ago on a Night Hunt, they'd been barren and oozing resentful energy. Now, they were still filled with resentment, but it was less oppressive and angry, more like a stern parent looming over their children.

There were houses now, facilities, people, laughter, children. Wangji barely masked his shock as he saw small figures chasing each other through the village as they approached.

"Take your mask off," Wen Qing commanded. "They'll all laugh at you if you walk in there in your 'Yilling Patriarch' disguise."

That was the first time Lan Wangji ever heard his husband laugh.

It was bright and deep, like a large bell ringing at dawn to signal the rise of the sun. Wangji could only stare in shock and curiosity as the Yilling Patriarch took his mask off, and suddenly Wangji could see him.

He was quite possibly the most beautiful man he'd ever met. The Yilling Patriarch had a lively face filled with bright, smiling eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. He looked like a young father watching his child take their first steps, not a war-hardened demonic cultivator.

Wangji also noticed how long and lustrous his hair was. It had been tied back loosely, as if he hadn't had the time or care to put it back properly, and was a deep earth brown, the kind that could be confused for black if looked at in the right light.

"Yes, I suppose they would never let me live it down," The Yilling Patriarch chuckled.

"I think your husband is a little starstruck," Meng Yao noted, smirking at Wangji's stunned expression.

"Ah yes," The Yilling Patriarch laughed again. "I know, my beauty is incomprehensible."

Wangji didn't know quite how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just nodded a little. The Yilling Patriarch's voice was smooth and faintly melodic. He always sounded like he was on the verge of laughing and spoke with flair that captivated Wangji.

The people cheer when they enter the village. They are immediately accosted by three very excited toddlers, two of whom attach themselves to the Yilling Patriarch's legs while the other stares up at him, her face set in a pout.

"Baba!" The youngest one exclaims, holding onto Wangji's husband's leg with all his toddler strength. "You came back!"

Oh. It seems his husband has children.

"That's right, my little radish, did you think I would stay away forever?" The Yilling Patriarch bent down and detached the children from his legs.

"Baba was away forever," The other toddler said seriously, stretching his little arms out as wide as they would go.

"Forever?" The Yilling Patriarch gasped. "How will this baba ever make it up to his little ones?"

Wangji felt something in him soften as he watched his husband greet his children with such obvious love.

"Baba, who's that?" The older girl pointed to Wangji, a frown on her face.

"Ah, that, my little apple, is my husband, Lan Wangji." The Yilling Patriarch said, gesturing to Wangji.

"Is he our Mama?" The smallest one asked, his eyes wide. "Popo says you need to find us a Mama."

So their mother wasn't in the picture, Wangji mused. Hopefully, it would be less tense that way.

"Ah, no, he's not a Mama," The Yilling Patriarch said awkwardly. He didn't seem to know how to tell them that their marriage was purely political.

"You can call me A-Die, if you wish," Wangji said softly, looking to the Yilling Patriarch for permission. "It's what my brother and I called our father."

The Yilling Patriarch seemed to sigh in relief and nodded.

"Xian-Gege!"

Wangji turned to look as two teenagers scrambled over to them at full speed, tackling the Yilling Patriarch in a hug.

"Ah! You both got so big! Who gave you permission to grow, huh?" The Yilling Patriarch laughed, hugging both of them.

"Ning-Gege," The shorter teen said smugly. "He said we have to grow or else we'll end up as short as Yao-Ge."

Meng Yao moved to hug the teens as they were talking, and smacked the shorter one on the back of the head for that comment.

"I'm not that short," He protested. Wen Qing raised an eyebrow behind his back in suspicion.

"Who's that Xian-Ge?" the taller teen asked.

"That's A-Die!" The younger toddler exclaimed. "He got married to Baba!"

Both teens' eyebrows shot up, looking to the Yilling Patriarch for confirmation.

The Yilling Patriarch nodded, giving them a look.

"Ah! I've forgotten to properly introduce you!" He exclaimed. "Lan Wangji, these are my children. The youngest is A-Yuan, my Little Radish; this one is A-Xiao, my Little Potato, and the oldest is A-Qing, my Little Apple." He gestured to each of them in turn.

"And this is Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu. A-Yu is Meng Yao's younger brother." The Yilling Patriarch introduced them. Xue Yang smiled unsettlingly, and Mo Xuanyu waved shyly.

Wangji nodded in acknowledgement. Little A-Yuan runs over and hugs his leg, calling him A-Die and insisting on showing him around.

Wangji accepts this kind offer and watches quietly as his husband laughs with his friends and children.

Maybe life in the Burial Mounds will not be so bad after all.

Ooooookkaaayyyy. This took waaaay to long and is like twice the length I intended it to be oops. Buuuuttt, it is my first ever mdzs fic on this site! Hoorayy! Dw, this is part of a larger au fic, I think it's gonna be around 10-15 chapters when I'm done, and I might post it on Ao3. Oops, it just passed 12 as I was writing this, and is now Saturday for me, sorry!

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atangledfate · 16 hours ago

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Lanolins eyes turned to one side as Surge spoke and she could hear that malice in her voice. She'd already consigned herself to what ever fate that lay ahead. But nobody knew the real surge, nobody knew the story of the girl who lost her life to a madman. People only knew her as the destroyer who wrecked the city, who fought sonic and lost. Some saw her on that track and got to see the real Surge under all that anger and bark. Lanolin believed under all of that was a good person clawing there way out of the hell they were forced into. She just wanted Surge to have her say in all of this... what ever small say it might be.

" It's true... many see you for the monster that tore through the city, or the enemy that tried to kill Sonic. Or the failure who couldn't do the deed... "

She said in a soft somber tone

" But nobody knows you... not really. Nobody knows the real story... the truth behind thunder in the sky. I've known you a short time ... and i barely know you... "

She motioned to the civilian with her hand and gazed into Surges eyes less like the soldier and more like a friend. Someone trying to beat past all that rage and help her... maybe it was the first time Lanolin dropped the tough girl act and was just that scared sheep who crawled into restoration that day.

" This is your chance Surge... To tell the world who you are... where you came from... to be remembered ... and not have your story tainted by GUN or anyone else... to tell the world... Who you REALLY are... people are starting to wonder about that. The mysterious green rider... she who fought off the phantom rider... they cheered for you despite EVERYTHING... but they don't know you... "

" This might be your last chance to tell them... so how do you want them to remember you? as the Villain ... or the Hero... he's your chance to convey that... what ever message you might have for the world... he'll be your voice...i dunno i guess... i guess i just feel like you deserve that..."

===============================================

Sonic rubbed the back of his neck as Kit was pretty adamant he would run beside him. Well he supposed if he was able to keep pace with Surge it would be fine right? He nodded his head and turned to make his way across the busted up city and toward the little town that Surge marked for him. He wasn't sure why that little podunk town exactly but he wasn't gonna argue he had made a promise and he'd keep it.

Yet Kit's words made him turn his head as he slowed down just enough so they were side by side. His eyes glancing over at Kit before facing forward. He still blamed himself for not checking that hole, maybe things would have been different if he had.

" That's fine... Trust is earned after all and i let you down. Worse i tried to hide it from you when i found out she was alive... you got every right to be angry with me... maybe in time you'll forgive me... maybe not... but i can still hope that things change for the better...."

================================================

Miles crossed his arms looking very lost in thought, as Blaze gave her stance on the situation. He didn't disagree either, recreating Starlines project wasn't simple. Especially since he had the original notes and they were locked up in his max security vault hidden away in a secret location. No one was getting in there without a small army and that implied they ever knew where to find it.

Still, if they had Surge? It was possible they could figure out all the parts and put it all back together again. It worried him and it was etched on his face how worried he was. Ever since Phantom War he'd been trying to devise ways to counter every possible bad scenario...

He wasn't sure he had an answer to an army of Surges...

" all we can do now is wait... and see what GUNs next move is... we also can't ignore Eggman... he's been to quiet lately to... its gonna be hard to watch GUN and him at the same time... guess we have our work cut out for us..."

" Heh yea... guess Belle's right... we are better looking into this when we are more secure. Speaking of i'll see if i can arrange for Belle bot to be moved to my lab's server room until we can save the data properly and move it back onto Restoration servers. It'll be more secure there then here anyway... "

" Well... at least we have a plan...I guess that leaves miss Blaze and i to handle this goon from GUN and his paper work. Ah Bureaucracy! at least i feel somewhat well equipped to deal with that! they should be arriving anytime--- Guess we should prepare for that. Why don't you and Miss Belle get Belle Bot ready for transfer while we handle the paperwork! "

The sheep seemed to glance to one side as if everything Surge said she mostly agreed with. Or maybe had already been discussed in private. It was very clear what GUN was up to and yet there was almost nothing they could do to stop this. Gun was powerful politically and, though they had come to a tenuous agreement she had a feeling it wouldn't last. How long before they targeted Kit? or maybe they didn't think he was a big enough threat to even bother with?

" That's already been talked about to some degree. But short of an all out war between GUN and Restoration... i'm not sure we could find a peaceful way to stop them. The best solution was handing you over... and none of us like that much either. The best we could do was protect Belle and Kitsunami... "

She clenched her fists and her body language spoke of just how much she hated this. no matter what Surge felt, she very much had grown to feel as if Surge were part of the team. More then that... she was just starting to break that ice and maybe become friends and now this.

" Which is why i think we need to have eyes on both of them... i know Belle is already thinking of running off. I think its best if both of them lay low for awhile till we figure this all out...its just... this still feels like we are losing this battle..."

She fidgeted but snapped her trap shut once she saw the reporter. How did he even get up here and she hoped he didn't hear anything she said. She sighed crossing her arms as he rambled on to probably the worst person on base. Yea if she were Surge she'd jack slap him to! She pinched the bridge of her nose as any good PR was going to help them in the long run.

" Well... he is a Reporter Surge, if you ever wanted to speak your peace to the world... now is the time. But try to keep it PG... and remember anything you say can and WILL be used against you... so choose your words very carefully..."

===============================================

Sonic placed his hands behind his head and watched the Fennec join them though, he seemed ready to split. He sure was pissed wasn't he? Not that he blamed him, truthfully Sonic was on his last nerve with GUN to. Still looked like the kid harbored alot of animosity toward him maybe just left over bits of Starlines fuckery or maybe he was just bitter about this whole situation.

Sonic checked his phone and flicked his thumber across the screen to the map location Surge had given him. He sighed a bit as he hated the idea of leaving Surge right now--- but she was right he made a promise it was time to keep it.

" Yep, she gave me a location and made me promise to take you there--- and i'm a hog of my word! just think of me as a taxi... i'll drop you off and the rest is on you bud... Alright Surge Kitsunami and i are gonzo... stay safe... ok? "

He held a hand out for Kitsunami to take so they could take off. He didn't think it was a good idea to grab the kid without his say so or he could lose an arm! or get bit! either way once Kit grabbed on he disappeared in a flash of motion and crack like thunder! He didn't think it would take him long to reach that location... then he needed to link up with tails and plan there next move.

===============================================

Miles had been sitting and mulling over the situation as it had so man angles to consider. But his eyes shifted to Blaze as she spoke and he seemed to sink further into his thoughts. He couldn't disagree more with her on many fronts. Sonic and His DNA especially was easy enough to come by due to all there extended battles within the city and beyond. Every injury they took and every drop of blood could easily have been collected by GUN over the years--- but far more importantly... they didn't need it as they had something far more potent to use.

" I know i say i'm the smartest mobian alive ... but let's be real here. Before Starline came along none of us would have imagined anyone on his intellectual level. Eggman might have expanded his horizons... but he was already a genius of exceptional levels before that. To imagine that GUN doesn't have someone of that level working for them is foolish--- why go and do any of this if you didn't have the ability to finish your goal. They might be brash but GUN has never been fools..."

He stated in a very calm manner as he swished his tails behind him in a very agitated way. He was clearly upset with this situation and wished like Sonic to pummel gun to dust! But unlike Sonic he understood how awful that would look... they were the good guys after all they had to follow the rules.

" As for Sonic's DNA or mine or any of those who fight Eggman on the regular. We all take our lumps... a drop of blood, a chunk of fur, a lost quill... its very common for that to happen to us. If Thawn is as devious as he appears... he might have enough stored DNA to last him a life time--- but he doesn't even need that. Do you know what he has butt loads of? Black Arms DNA... they gathered up all those bodies all those years ago and even before that they had shadow trapped for YEARS and took who knows how many samples... "

" If GUN's aim is to create some super solider... they have the resources ...question isn't if they can but when... and what there ultimate intent is... i won't sugar coat it Blaze, it's not great... and things could turn very quickly in GUNS favor. Only thing we have going for us is that i had the foresight to lock all of starlines notes in my personal vaults... so even if they wanted to, they would be starting from scratch. so we... have time... if nothing else "

Jewel buzzed her wings landing next to Belle and opted to focus on things she was more willing and able to handle. Fighting GUN felt like a battle for sonic and tails not restoration. Choose your battles Jewel! choose your battles!

" Yes... they helped us on several join ventures. I put all of them in a single file to keep things organized. But also because i never trusted the man... so at the very least we should be able to scour the files and see what he was actually up to. I'm more worried they will try to pin this all on restoration... or worse Eggman will use all of this distraction to strike while we are divided..."

She sighed softly as she stared at Belle

" But one battle at a time Belle... we can start scouring that data and assess the damage he did. I still feel foolish for not realizing what he was up to... in a way... this is all my fault..."

#Heroes of Mobius #Sonic and Tails #The Imposters #Surge and Kitsunami #Director of Restoration #Jewel #Restoration Commander #Lanolin #Gears and Starters #Belle

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