#and if you drop it? 20 more damage. and then you have to pull it out again

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups ♥️

We’ve made it—this is the final chapter of the series 😊 And I hope it’s brought you joy, tension, chaos, and all the closeness your heart craved. Though, while this may be the end… I won’t lie, a cheeky Chapter 20 epilogue might still be on the horizon. I mean—it’s Christmas (in the story), and who could resist one last gift? 😉🎁

So, feel free to drop your wildest wishes and softest dreams in the comments, darlings ♥️ And as always, happy reading!

P.S. Massive thanks to @tonyspep for sparking the idea behind that steamy moment with our favourite duo 🔥

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, Smut 18+: handcuffs, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, cum inside, oral sex (f receiving), more unprotected vaginal sex, and yes, finally, more cum inside (what can I say, I want that Auston juice)

Word count: 9.1k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven; Chapter twelve; Chapter thirteen ; Chapter fourteen; Chapter fifteen; Chapter sixteen; Chapter seventeen ; Chapter eighteen

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo @emsdevs

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Chapter nineteen: The Benchwarmer*

::

Wednesday -

The soft buzz of your phone stirred you awake before the winter sun had even cracked through the curtains.

You blinked clearly, one arm still tangled in the duvet, the other groping blindly toward your nightstand. The screen lit up your face with a low glow as you rolled onto your side.

Auston: Missed your face. Even half-asleep. Two more days, babe.

Auston: Also, dreamt you were chirping me for my bedhead again. Woke up offended.

You snorted into your pillow, the sound half-sigh, half-swoon. Sleep was already dissolving from your limbs, replaced with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heating in your flat.

Two more days.

It had only been a short road stint—Pittsburgh, then Jersey—but you missed him more than you’d expected. You talked every day. Facetimed every night. Sent stupid pictures, voice notes, playlists, screenshots of memes that reminded you of each other.

You felt sixteen again. Like this was all brand new. Like he hadn’t already seen you cry, yell, unravel. Like none of the damage had happened.

But it had. And somehow, it still felt like something whole had been rebuilt from the wreckage.

You pulled your phone closer to your chest, stared at the screen a moment longer before typing.

You: I only chirp because your bedhead looks like a hockey helmet exploded.

You: Miss you too. Come home soon.

You: P.S. tell Willy he’s not allowed to steal your phone anymore and leave that many typos.

A reply came almost immediately.

Auston: That was literally one time. And I let him because he bribed me with Swedish chocolate. You’d have folded too.

You grinned. Rolled onto your back and let the ceiling fan spin above you in slow, lazy circles.

Everything felt weirdly… good. Like the air had finally cleared. Like you’d climbed out of some emotional foxhole and found sunlight again. Auston was texting you good morning and goodnight. Jess was staying over on weeknights just to hang out. The WAGs weren’t glaring daggers in your direction. Mr. Manion had even stopped side-eyeing you in meetings.

And The Benchwarmer?

Silent.

No new posts. No snide tweets. No grainy surveillance shots lurking in corners of the internet. It was like they’d vanished with the last of November’s rain.

You thought about it sometimes—how quiet it had gone. But mostly, you didn’t care. Not now.

Let them watch, if they were still watching. You were done living like the glass could shatter at any second.

Your phone buzzed again.

Auston: Practice in twenty. Gotta run. But call me later, yeah? Want to hear that sleepy voice again.

You: You’re obsessed.

Auston: Painfully.

You were still smiling when Jess wandered out of the bathroom, made a quick stop by the kitchen before coming over to you, a mug of coffee in each hand and a raised eyebrow aimed directly at you.

“Well, well, well,” she said, voice raspy with sleep. “Looks like someone’s getting their serotonin served fresh and daily.”

You reached for the mug she held out. “Shut up.”

“No seriously,” she said, crawling up the bed like she owned it and flopping beside you. “You’ve got that look. The ‘I just got railed in a dream and now I’m texting him like it wasn’t weird’ look.”

You choked on your coffee. “Jessica.”

“What?” she grinned. “I know the signs. Blissed out. Eyes sparkly. That little secret smile. Honestly, I’m just glad it’s him and not some emotionally unavailable barista named Milo or something.”

You laughed. “Why Milo?”

“I dunno. Feels like the type who’d ghost after making you an oat milk flat white and whispering that you ‘smell like spring heartbreak.’”

You snorted again, leaning your head back against the headboard. “No Milos here. Just Auston. And me. And… whatever this is.”

Jess’s expression softened. She nudged your leg with her knee. “Whatever it is, it looks good on you.”

You glanced back down at your phone. The screen was dark now, but the words from earlier still lingered in your mind.

Painfully.

You hadn’t expected this. Not really. Not after everything. But you also weren’t going to waste time doubting it.

Instead, you took a long sip of coffee, then looked at Jess. “We’re going on a real date when he’s back.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh shit. Like a real real one?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Fancy outfit. Nervous energy. Actual table reservation. The whole deal.”

Jess beamed. “God, I love a redemption arc.”

You laughed, heart light, body warm, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

Maybe you were in one.

And maybe—for once—you weren’t just playing the part.

_

The bell above the café door chimed as you stepped inside, and for a second, you debated turning right back around.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t welcomed you back. The WAGs had seen the kiss. The kiss. You and Auston, wrapped around each other in the locker room like nobody else existed. There had been witnesses. There had been side-eyes. But no one had walked away.

Still, the nerves clung to your skin like static.

Jess brushed past you, giving your elbow a squeeze as she did. Naturally, she’d come along as moral support. “Relax,” she murmured under her breath. “You’re not walking into a courtroom.”

“No,” you muttered back, “just a table full of people I emotionally betrayed and lied to for two months.”

“Semantics,” she said, grinning.

The glamorous café was all glass windows and exposed brick, warm light filtering in through half-fogged panes. The smell of espresso and burnt caramel lingered in the air. A table in the corner was already half full—Aryne, Stephanie, Sanna, Tessa, Estelle—all mid-sip and conversation.

Aryne looked up first. Her eyes met yours. She curved a light smile.

You swallowed hard.

Then she lifted her coffee and tilted it in a silent toast. “Look who finally decided to join us.”

“Was fashionably late,” Jess cut in, sliding into a chair like she owned the place. “Obviously.”

Stephanie waved toward the open seats. “Sit. Before we start gossiping without you.”

You slid into your chair, pulse still elevated, but your shoulders loosened a little when Tessa leaned over and offered you a mimosa without a word.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

She just winked. “You’re gonna need it.”

And within minutes, conversations resumed like they had never paused. It wasn’t quite normal—but it wasn’t cold. It was like standing at the edge of a hot tub, acclimating slowly to the heat. There was laughter. A little teasing. Sanna passed you the butter with a soft smile that said: we’re not pretending, but we’re trying.

You sipped your drink, eyes darting between the group as they caught up on wedding plans and team travel rumours. Jess had already begun charming her way into the circle, leaning into the conversation like she’d slays been a part of the group. Her laugh was easy. Her presence warm.

It wasn’t until Estelle cleared her throat that the air shifted.

“So,” she said, setting her coffee down with a careful clink. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You blinked. “Talk about what?”

Stephanie leaned back, lips quirking. “The locker room kiss.”

Tessa grinned over the rim of her glass. “We need details. Was that post-concussion euphoria or…?”

“It wasn’t—I mean, he wasn’t concussed,” you said quickly, flushing. “He was… aware.”

“Mm-hmm,” Aryne hummed. “And you?”

You paused. Heart thudding.

Jess gave you a knowing look, daring you.

You exhaled. “Alright… my name is y/n, and I’m in love with Auston Matthews.”

The words fell like a feather—and hit like a brick.

The table went quiet for half a breath, and then erupted with ‘ooohhh’s. 

“Finally,” Stephanie groaned.

“Oh, thank God,” Estelle muttered.

Tessa pretended to wipe a tear. “We have growth.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest splintering like sugar glass. Aryne was the only one who didn’t react at first. She just looked at you, eyes a little soft now. A little proud.

“I knew you were,” she said quietly. “Just didn’t think you knew.”

You blinked. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Conversation flowed easier after that. The teasing softened into something fond. You were no longer the girl on the outside. Not the liar. Not the story. Just another woman with a messy heart and the courage to say it out loud.

It felt like a beginning.

And then midway through your second mimosa, Stephanie suddenly turned to Jess. “Okay, your turn.”

Jess blinked. “My turn for what?”

“Your mystery man, of course,” Sanna grinned. 

Jess raised her brows. “What mystery man?”

“Oh, there’s a rumour going around that a certain player’s been asking about you,” Tessa leaned in.

Jess rolled her eyes. “There are a lot of players. I think we should be more specific.”

“Big guy. Right wing. Starts with a W,” Stephanie said sing-song.

Jess’s ears flushed pink. She looked down at her napkin, suddenly far too interested in folding it.

Aryne squinted. “Wait… you don’t mean—”

Jess cut in quickly. “I’m not interested.”

“Didn’t say you were,” Stephanie said. “But he clearly is.”

There was a pause. You watched Jess, curious. She shrugged and reached for her phone, tapping at the screen to avoid the attention. But then something changed—her posture stiffened ever so slightly. Her fingers paused on the screen, her eyes narrowing at something in her messages.

It was quick. A flicker. But you caught it.

“What is it?” you asked gently.

Jess blinked and shook her head. “Nothing. Just work stuff.”

You didn’t press. But your gut whispered something else. Because it wasn’t the look of someone bothered by work. It was the look of someone reading something she didn’t expect.

_

It was almost dusk by the time you finally called her.

You sat curled in the corner of your couch, knees drawn up beneath an old hoodie, the half-melted candle on the coffee table flickering between citrus and smoke. Your phone rang twice before she picked up.

“Hello?”

Her voice was clipped, as always. Polished. Like she’d rehearsed being unimpressed.

“Hi, Mum,” you said.

There was a moment of pause., “I wasn’t sure if you’d call this week. You’ve been… busy.”

You winced. “Yeah. Things have been… a lot.”

“Hm.” A rustle of fabric on the other end. She was probably folding laundry or wiping down a spotless counter, still multitasking even while emotionally withholding. “I saw the video.”

Your stomach dipped. “Oh.”

“The one from the game,” she clarified. “Where he got hit. And you ran.”

“Oh,” you said again, softer this time. She didn’t ask how Auston was. Didn’t ask how you were either. She never did. “It was… dramatic. Even for you.”

You breathed out a dry laugh. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

Another pause. Then a shift in tone—still cool, but slower now. Almost thoughtful. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you care about something that wasn’t your job.”

You froze for a second. It wasn’t a compliment. Not exactly. But it wasn’t a critique either.

“I’ve always cared,” you said, quieter than you meant to. “Maybe not in ways you wanted me to.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t care,” she replied, and for once, she didn’t sound annoyed. Just tired. “I said you never made room for anything else.”

You looked at the candlelight wavering beside you. “I think I got tired of fighting for something that didn’t fight back.”

“Work?”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see. “Yeah.”

“Well,” she said, voice softening so slightly you almost missed it, “people don’t give you trophies for loving someone. But they should.”

You sat with that. It wasn’t I’m proud of you. It wasn’t I’m happy for you. But it was something. A thread. A whisper of grace in her voice that you hadn’t heard in a long time—maybe ever.

“I’m trying,” you said.

“I know.”

You closed your eyes, holding the silence like a fragile thing between your palms.

Then she cleared her throat. “Your sisters say hello.”

You smiled faintly. “Tell them I say hi.”

“I will.”

There was a moment a silence. 

“You’ll let us know how things go?” she then continued. Not a demand. Just a simple question. A tiny, tentative olive branch.

“Yeah. I will.”

“Alright, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mum.”

The call ended and the room suddenly felt quieter in its wake.

You set the phone down, your chest loose in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. It still hurt, in that deep-bone, childhood kind of way. But you didn’t feel angry. You felt seen. And maybe that was enough for now.

_

Thursday  -

The office was grey.

Not just the walls—though they were painted in that corporate slate that felt like an apology for colour—but the air itself. The lights buzzed overhead with the soft hum of disinterest, monitors glowed with half-read emails, and the heat from the vent didn’t quite reach your corner of the floor.

You sat at your desk, cursor blinking in time with your heartbeat, your screen filled with placeholder text for a mid-season sponsor recap. A content calendar blinked behind it. Three drafts due by Friday. You’d done two this morning. All technically fine. Sharp sentences. Clean tone. Buzzword-laced and forgettable.

Your fingers hovered over the keys. Then stalled.

You leaned back in your chair and looked around the office. Everyone moved like machines—quiet and efficient with their heads down. A team of people running the PR engine for one of the loudest teams in the league. A few months ago, you would’ve been proud of that. You would’ve straightened your shoulders and taken the next brief with a smile. Pushed yourself harder. Gone above and beyond.

But not now.

Now, it just felt… quiet.

Not the peaceful kind. The hollow kind.

You turned back to your screen. Read the first paragraph of the copy again. You’d written it in ten minutes, and it read like it. Sharp enough to get through approval. Polished enough to pass.

But there was nothing behind it. No spark. No thrill. No little voice whispering this matters.

You rested your chin in your hand and exhaled slowly.

This used to be your dream. Not just the job, but the whole arc—the respect, the profile, the rising power of it all. You’d wanted to be the woman who could walk into a boardroom in heels and own every word she spoke. And for a while, you’d been her.

You were still her. Sort of.

But somewhere between the fake relationship, the scandal, the confession in a locker room and the way Auston kissed you like he meant it—you’d changed.

Or maybe you’d just finally told the truth.

You didn’t want to be a headline anymore. You didn’t want to chase perfect phrasing and client praise and metrics on engagement. You didn’t want to craft stories for people who couldn’t look you in the eye when things went south.

You wanted to write for yourself again. You wanted slow mornings and something warm on the stove. You wanted to work hard, sure—but for something that didn’t cost you peace. Something you could walk away from at the end of the day and still recognise yourself in the mirror.

You wanted softness. Stillness. Space to breathe.

You wanted love.

And for the first time, you weren’t ashamed to want that more than success.

You clicked out of the document. Saved the file. Took a sip of the coffee on your desk—it had gone cold an hour ago, bitter and thin.

Then, quietly, you opened your calendar and blocked out an hour at lunch next week. Just one. You titled it:

Career Strategy – Personal

Nothing dramatic. Nothing rushed. Just a reminder that you’d finish the season. You’d keep your head down, do the work, ride out the storm with quiet grace.

But after that? You were done.

Done chasing a version of yourself that looked impressive but felt hollow. Done sacrificing nights and feelings and family just to say you’d made it.

Because you’d made it. And now, you were letting it go.

You sat back, staring at the calendar invite. Your heart was still. Not racing. Not heavy.

Just… still.

And in that stillness, you felt something like peace. You didn’t need to be the best anymore. You just needed to be whole.

_

Friday -

Friday night came just in time.

Maybe it was the rush of work or the way the week blurred by in a haze of coffee, emails, and soft texts from Auston that made your heart race every time your phone lit up. Maybe it was because, deep down, some part of you was afraid it would fall apart before it ever started.

But it hadn’t. Not this time.

You stood barefoot in your apartment, staring at the small collection of outfits Jess had laid out on your bed. She stood beside you, arms crossed, mascara wand in one hand, her expression somewhere between stylist and drill sergeant.

“The black dress says, ‘take me seriously.’ The green says, ‘I’m emotionally available.’ The red says—”

“Trouble,” you finished, smiling.

Jess grinned. “Exactly. Which is also the vibe you’re giving off right now, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the green. “He’s already seen me in red. Half-naked. Screaming at him in a parking garage.”

Jess laughed. “Then we definitely pivot to emotionally available.”

The next hour passed in the kind of chaos that made you nostalgic for pre-party high school nights—curling irons whirring, highlighter dust in the air, the scent of dry shampoo and nerves. Jess moved through your space with the casual confidence of someone who knew exactly how to make you feel beautiful.

“Breathe,” she said, hands in your hair. “You’ve already got him. Now you just get to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, steadying yourself in the mirror. “Do I look okay?”

She stepped back, studied you, and smiled. “You look like someone who’s about to ruin his life. In the best way.”

You laughed, heart hammering in your chest. Then you slipped into your coat, kissed her on the cheek, and walked out the door.

The city air bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside, heart pounding beneath your coat. A gust of December wind caught your hair just as you climbed into the Uber, cheeks flushed—not from the cold, but from what waited on the other side of the night.

By the time you arrived, the world outside had settled into that Friday-night rhythm: muffled conversations, golden lamplight pouring across the pavement, couples ducking into warm restaurants with laughter clinging to their coats.

You stepped into the place Auston had chosen—elegant, but not intimidating. It smelled like rosemary and wine and fresh bread, like something safe and thoughtful. Like someone had taken time to pick it. And that alone nearly undid you.

Then you saw him.

He sat near a table tucked into the back corner, jacket off, sleeves rolled neatly, hands shoved into his trouser pockets like he hadn’t quite figured out what to do with them. And when his eyes found you, everything else in the restaurant seemed to blur.

He didn’t smile right away. He just… stared.

“Hi,” you said softly, slipping toward the table.

There was a split second of silence.

“Holy shit.”

You blinked. “That’s your opener?”

Auston shook himself a little, like waking from a dream, and gave you a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I meant wow… but my brain short-circuited.”

You slid into the seat across from him. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Matthews.”

“I ironed my shirt and everything,” he said, mock-offended. “Didn’t even ask my mom to do it.”

“How heroic.”

Then the waiter appeared—Auston recovered just enough to order a bottle of wine, though he fumbled the vintage and ended up saying, “Whatever she wants,” with a lopsided grin.

And when the drinks arrived, he lifted his glass. “To real first dates.”

You clinked softly. “To not needing a PR plan to kiss you.”

He took a sip before he offered a soft smirk. “Although, for the record, I was excellent at planning those kisses.”

You sipped your wine too. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrected, leaning forward. “So… What are we talking about tonight? Sports? Politics? My devastatingly handsome dog?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean my emotional support dog, Felix?”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. First date and already stealing custody?”

“Just trying to find out what I’d get in the divorce,” you smiled.

“Too late,” he said. “You’re stuck with me.”

The banter was easy—familiarly sharp, lovingly annoying. You talked about stupid things at first: your Uber driver’s playlist, William’s latest ‘casual’ outfit that cost more than your rent, Jess trying to set her sister up with an Italian wine guy who turned out to be allergic to grapes.

But somewhere between the starters and the mains, something in the air shifted.

Auston casually leaned back slightly, his thumb tracing the stem of his wine glass. “Can I ask you something a bit… deeper?”

You nodded.

“What do you actually want? Not just tonight. But… after. From life.”

The question hit like a soft punch, causing you to swallow, setting your fork down.

“I used to think I knew,” you said. “Climbing ladders. Nailing campaigns. Being the girl who had her shit together.”

“And now?”

You looked down, then up. “Now I want something quieter. Someone to come home to. Less chaos. More… meaningful.”

His expression softened. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I used to think it was.”

Auston nodded, quiet for a moment. before he continued, “I used to think love had to be loud and dramatic. Something that made you bleed to know it mattered. But you… you make it feel as easy as breathing. Like I didn’t even realise how much noise I was used to until you walked in and everything went calm.”

There was a moment where you both simply allowed the silence to fill the space between you. Where your met and your breathings slowed down a bit. 

“Are you trying to ruin me, Matthews?” You said softly with a gentle smile. 

His grin was crooked, a little shy. “Maybe.”

You both sat there, smiling like idiots, the kind of smiles that made your cheeks ache. You didn’t say it out loud, but you both felt it:

Something had shifted.

And this time, it wasn’t for the cameras.

It was for you. It was real.

The ride home was quiet, but not silent. Auston’s hand found yours across the seat, his thumb brushing gentle arcs against your knuckles as the city passed by in a blur of lights and December chill. Every few seconds, he looked at you—like he couldn’t help it. Like he was trying to memorise this version of you: soft, open, warm from wine.

And by the time the car pulled up in front of your building, neither of you moved right away.

The engine ticked softly as it cooled. Outside, the streetlight cast pale gold shadows through the windshield, tracing the lines of Auston’s jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth—a mix of soft and serious.

Your hand was still in his, resting on the centre console. He hadn’t let go since the restaurant.

Silence settled in like a held breath, as you glanced over. “Well. That was… something.”

Auston smiled faintly. “Yeah. Kind of felt like a real date or something.”

You laughed softly, but your chest felt tight with something more. Nervous yet hopeful. Like you didn’t want this to end—not yet at least.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles again, slow, and thoughtful. “I should probably let you get some sleep.”

“Probably,” you said, though you made no move to reach for the door.

He then shifted slightly, turning toward you more fully. His eyes found yours, deep and warm and unreadable. “This was really nice.”

“It was more than nice Auston,” you whispered.

He hesitated for just a second, but then—very slowly—leaned in.

And you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Careful. A whisper of a thing at first, like both of you were afraid too much pressure would break it. His lips pressed to yours, and for a moment it felt like time simply stopped. No game. No spotlight. No scandal. Just him. Just you. And the stillness of a December night.

But then something cracked open.

The kiss gradually deepened, hungry but not rushed. His hand came up to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair. Your mouth opened to his, and he kissed you like he’d been waiting all night. All week. Maybe longer.

And when you finally pulled back, breath caught in your throat, his eyes stayed closed for a beat longer than yours.

He rested his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your lips. “Goodnight,” he said, voice rough—like the word hurt to say.

You let out a soft laugh. “That’s it?”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. “If I don’t say goodnight now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to let you leave.”

You could still feel the shape of his kiss on your lips, like an imprint pressed into your skin. The space between you was too small to be innocent, too charged to ignore. Your heart thudded hard against your ribs.

“Maybe I don’t want to leave,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. Eyes searching and waiting.

“Aus,” you said, softer now. “You want to come up?”

His gaze held yours for a second longer as he smiled, “never thought you’d ask.”

The lift ride was short—but charged like live wire.

You leaned against the brushed metal wall, your pulse echoing in your ears. Auston stood inches from you, hands in his coat pockets like restraint was the only thing holding him together. His eyes never left yours. That lazy, hungry look. 

There was heat in the air between you—unspoken, unhurried. Not a race to the finish, but a slow, sweet burn. You could feel it in the press of your thighs, in the hollow of your throat, in the way neither of you touched but every part of you wanted to.

And when the lift dinged, the sound was almost jarring. 

You walked ahead, heartbeat in your mouth, keys trembling slightly in your hand. The hallway felt long, like it was stretching time on purpose. A final tease before the fall.

Then the lock turned. The door opened. You stepped inside.

The sound of your keys dropping onto the counter barely cut through the tension.

And the moment the door clicked shut behind him, his hands found your waist like instinct. He pulled you in gently, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed. His lips met yours again—slow, reverent, a quiet exhale of a kiss. 

You kissed him back just as softly. Until you didn’t. Until something once again snapped.

You pushed him back a step, your breath catching, fingertips fumbling with the buttons of his jacket as heat bloomed under your skin.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he whispered, voice rough with want, eyes trailing down your face to your chest, to your hands working quickly. “You drive me so fucking insane.”

You smiled against his throat as his coat hit the floor. Swiftly followed by his shirt. Then your coat and dress—the sleeves slipping from your shoulders like they’d been waiting all night for permission. You let it fall between you, and his eyes darkened.

He touched you like you were something delicate and dangerous all at once. His fingertips grazed your waist, your ribs, up to the lace of your bra, but didn’t unhook it. Not yet.

Instead, you took the lead.

You walked him backward through the apartment, every step a new brush of skin against skin. Your touch was confident and teasing—guiding him with hands at his chest, his belt buckle, the waistband of his trousers. Socks were lost somewhere between the hallway and your bed. His belt clattered against the floor. Discarded clothes forming a path. Your knickers were the final piece—tossed aside without fanfare, like gravity had grown tired of waiting.

He cursed under his breath as he felt your skin against his.

But you didn’t stop kissing. Not even as you fumbled together. Not even as you hit the edge of the bed, stumbled slightly, caught yourself with a laugh.

The sound barely had time to escape before it was swallowed by his mouth.

He lied back onto the mattress with a soft grunt, and you straddled him immediately. But then, you paused, and your eyes glinted in the low light. 

“Remember the handcuffs you introduced me to?”

His grin broke through the haze. “The ones I used on you?”

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his jaw. “Payback time.”

He let out a low, disbelieving laugh—deep, dark, hungry. “Yes, boss.”

With sensual movements, you pulled open the bedside drawer and retrieved a pair of black furry cuffs - a gag gift from a friend once, barely taken seriously. Until now.

And Auston didn’t resist. He just raised his arms above his head, letting you snap the cuffs around his wrists and secure them to the headboard.

“You trust me?” you asked softly, eyes locked on his.

He nodded. “With everything.”

And just like that, the world slowed.

You kissed him again, but this time with purpose—starting at his mouth, then the corner of his jaw, then down to the warm skin of his bearded throat. He tilted his head back slightly, offering more, breathing harder with every inch your mouth travelled. You followed the line of his collarbone with your tongue, dragged your lips across the slope of his tattooed chest, your teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp.

Your kisses trailed down his torso—slow, methodical, and reverent. You licked along the dip between his abs, sucked gently at the skin just above his hip bone, and smiled when you felt his muscles twitch beneath your mouth. He was already getting hard, already waiting for you.

You pressed a kiss to the base of his cock, then looked up—his eyes dark and heavy, wrists tense in the cuffs above his head, chest rising fast.

“You’re fucking cruel,” he muttered, voice thick.

You dragged your nails lightly down his ribs just to hear him hiss. “Am I?” you murmured, kissing the tip of his cock, your breath warm against him. “You’re the one who taught me this.”

He laughed—strained and hoarse. “I liked it better when it was the other way around.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you just flattened your tongue along the length of him—slow and deliberate. His groan rumbled in his chest, legs tensing as your hand wrapped firmly around the base. You took him into your mouth inch by inch, cheeks hollowed, lips tight, drawing out each pass like a dare.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned again, breathless. “You’re really going to do this to me?”

You glanced up, lips brushing the head of his cock. “What, this?”

Your pace gradually quickened—then slowed again. You built him up only to pull back at the edge, teasing him with every flick of your tongue, every tightened grip. His hips twitched upward, instinctive, but you placed a hand flat on his thigh to still him.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t touch. Could only feel.

And you knew he felt everything.

You kept him right there—on the edge, moaning your name like a prayer he wasn’t sure he deserved to finish. His hands clenched in the restraints, chest glistening with sweat, body taut with restraint. He was unravelling beneath you, and you smiled against his skin.

“A little desperate, are we?” you teased, your breath hot against his sensitive shaft.

“Please,” he growled. “Let me touch you, baby.”

Releasing him from your touch, you then gently climbed up his body again, kissing along his chest, over his collarbone, your fingers trailing behind your lips. He was burning up beneath you as you paused, hovering over his mouth, your eyes flickering over his face—so open, so wrecked.

“Not yet,” you whispered.

Then, gently, you straddled him. Guided him to your entrance, and the moment his head breached your opening, both of you sucked in a breath.

You sank down inch by inch, feeling every stretch, every dizzying wave of fullness until he was buried completely inside you. You gasped at the pressure; at the way he filled you so perfectly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours, his voice cracking under the weight of it.

You moved slowly at first. Grinding your hips in deep, delicious circles. He moaned helplessly beneath you, hips rocking up, eyes fluttering closed, jaw clenched tight.

His arms strained in the cuffs, his fingers twitching. Oh yes, you had him undone. Completely.

And you loved it.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “You give me so much power,” you whispered, rolling your hips again, harder this time. “And you don’t even flinch.”

“Only because I want you to have it,” he whispered back. “All of it.”

The words punched through your chest like lightning.

That’s when you knew—this wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just lust or power or pleasure. This was trust. 

So, you rocked faster, chasing the edge for both of you. Your palms pressed to his chest, feeling the wild beat of his heart. His moans filled the room like there was no performative restraint here. No masks.

Only you. Only him. Everything you were finally allowing yourselves to feel.

And finally, when you felt the orgasm begin to build, the knot in your lower; when you couldn’t take it anymore—when the ache between your thighs blurred into something urgent and shaking and begging—you reached for the cuffs.

Your fingers fumbled, slick with sweat, heart thudding as you unlocked one, then the other.

And the moment the metal clicked free, Auston surged.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed into yours—fierce and unforgiving, all heat and hunger and gratitude. Like he needed to taste every second he’d spent waiting. His hands seized your hips, and then, with almost dizzying ease, he flipped you beneath him. The shift in power was immediate, almost electric.

He pinned your wrists above your head, fingers laced tight, his body caging yours.

“My turn,” he murmured, voice low and ragged with need.

Then he thrust. Hard and deep.

The breath punched out of you in a choked cry as your back arched off the mattress, your legs instinctively locking around his waist. Again. Again. Each stroke sharper, rougher—like he was trying to bury himself in you completely. Like he needed to leave a mark not just on your body, but on your soul.

His grip tightened around your wrists, grounding you while the bedframe slammed rhythmically against the wall, a percussion of chaos and want. His name tumbled from your lips, broken and wild.

He kissed your throat, your jaw, the soft dip beneath your collarbone—mouth greedy, almost worshipful. His teeth grazed your skin. His tongue soothed it. He was everywhere at once, inside and out, and you were coming undone beneath him.

And like every other time, you shattered first—your orgasm ripping through you like a lightning strike. Your whole body tensed, thighs trembling, breath caught as you sobbed his name. He made sure of that. And you barely had time to come down before he angled his hips, adjusted his grip—and hit that perfect spot again. And again. 

You cried out, high and helpless. You didn’t think you had another climax in you. But naturally, he proved you wrong.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled into your shoulder, voice fracturing. “You feel so good—so fucking good—can’t get enough of you—”

You pulled your wrists free, arms winding around his back, nails digging into the flex of muscle as he drove into you with punishing precision. It wasn’t just about dominance. It was about passion. Mutual, unspoken, and complete.

You felt his body begin to shake, pace growing erratic, and a low groan building in his chest. He leaned down, lips brushing yours, as his fingers clenched the sheets.

“Fuck—baby—” he gasped again, and then the words tumbled out, unguarded and raw. “Fucking love you.”

He said it like it had been waiting in his throat for days. Maybe longer. 

And then he came, shuddering violently, buried deep, his whole body bowing into yours as his release crashed through him with a fractured moan.

You held him as he collapsed against you, both of you panting, limbs trembling, skin slick and overheated. You didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

His forehead rested against your shoulder, and you carded your fingers through the damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

Eventually, Auston shifted—slow and careful—as he pulled out of you with a soft, quiet hiss. The motion made you both wince, tender and spent. He didn’t say a word as he rolled to his side, just reached for you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest like gravity itself depended on it.

His lips brushed your forehead. Then your nose. Then your mouth—softly, sweetly.

But this kiss was different. It didn’t ask. It answered. It didn’t burn—it warmed.

You opened your eyes, breath still catching in your throat, and looked at him.

“I love you too,” you whispered, voice small but steady.

Auston let out a short, sheepish laugh. “Shit… I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

You raised a brow, though still smiling. “You didn’t?”

“Oh, I meant it,” he said quickly. “I’ve meant it for a while. Just… thought I’d do it better. More romantic. Less… mid-climax.”

You laughed, tucking your head under his chin. “When have we ever done anything the romantic way?”

He made a sound of agreement, rubbing his thumb across your lower lip. “True. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes again. “Next time?”

His smile softened. “Next time.”

The apartment was quiet.

The kind of quiet that hummed beneath your skin—post-storm, post-bliss, post-everything. You were curled under the covers, bare and spent, your body still aching in the best way from the way Auston had held you, taken you, made love to you.

The soft sound of the fridge door closing echoed from the kitchen.

You turned your head just slightly, watching his shadow stretch against the wall as he moved—barefoot, in boxers, hair still messy from your fingers. He’d gone to get water. Said he’d be right back. Said it with a kiss to your shoulder and that boyish little smirk that made your toes curl.

You smiled to yourself, letting your eyes drift closed for a second, before suddenly you were interrupted by a buzz.

Your phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a soft glow. You reached for it lazily, expecting it to be Jess—or maybe Auston, sending something ridiculous from five feet away.

But it wasn’t.

Maya: Timing’s everything. Just a little more and it’ll all be over. Finally.

You blinked. Sat up straighter, sheet still pulled over your chest. The light from your screen seemed brighter than it should’ve been.

Something about it—the tone, the cadence—sent a ripple across your skin.

You read it again. And again.

You stared at the message for a moment longer, your heart beginning to beat faster—not with desire this time, but something colder.

It wasn’t what she wrote. It was how she wrote it. 

The rhythm. The punctuation. The way it seemed to watch you, not speak to you. So, unlike her. 

Like a whisper behind the curtain. Like a caption under a photo, you hadn’t meant to take.

And suddenly, you knew what it reminded you of.

You pulled open your message history, scrolling further back—weeks, months even. Maya didn’t text often. She was more of a meme-sender and voice-noter, short, sharp, always a bit rushed. But tucked in between the usual casual chaos, there were a few odd texts. Vaguely phrased. Almost… scripted.

You opened the most recent Benchwarmer post. The last one, before everything went quiet.

Your eyes scanned the lines. The phrasing and the tone. Then back to the message.

Your stomach flipped.

It wasn’t definitive. It wasn’t proof. But something in your gut—the same gut that had warned you when the first post dropped, when Chase made threats, when Auston was lying on the ice and not moving—twisted hard.

There was a voice behind the Benchwarmer. And it was starting to sound a lot like hers.

You barely heard Auston’s footsteps returning. But when you glanced up, he was already close to the bed, two glasses in hand, chest bare, hair damp from a quick shower.

“You good?” he asked, pausing in the doorway when he saw your expression.

You swallowed, locking your phone without thinking. “Yeah. Just… spaced out.”

He came onto the bed, offering you the glass. You took it with a faint smile, your fingers brushing his.

You wanted to say it. Wanted to say it out loud—Could it be her? What if it’s Maya?

But you didn’t.

Instead, you sat the glass on the nightstand and just curled back under the covers as he slid in beside you. His arm looped around your waist, warm and grounding.

_

Saturday –

The morning light slipped through the curtains in soft, slatted stripes, casting gold across the tangled sheets. The world was still, hushed by winter. You blinked awake to the warm weight of Auston behind you—one arm looped loosely around your waist, breath steady against the back of your neck.

You stayed like that for a moment, just breathing. Just existing. His presence was grounding, anchoring you to something real in a world that had shifted so much.

You knew he had training in a few hours, so carefully, you peeled yourself from the duvet and padded toward the bathroom, your body still pleasantly sore from the night before. You took a moment to just freshen up a bit, but you hadn’t made it halfway back to the room before you heard him stir.

“Where you going?” his voice rasped, still syrup-thick with sleep.

You turned, catching the sight of him stretching—shirtless, eyes barely open, hair a glorious mess. His hand reached for the spot you’d just vacated.

“I was letting you rest,” you said, padding back across the floor.

He made a sleepy, discontent sound and opened his arms. “Get your ass back here. Not done with you yet.”

You laughed quietly, slipping under the covers. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, already pulling you into him and flipping you onto your back. “And I don’t care.”

He kissed your bare shoulder—lazy and lingering—then your neck, slow enough to make your pulse jump. His hand drifted down, grazing the curve of your hip, then lower still, until his fingers slid between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, baby” he said, his voice suddenly alert, darker. “Is that for me?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The look in your eyes told him everything.

He then coaxed you onto your stomach, mouth trailing kisses down your spine. You gasped when his tongue found the back of your thigh—then higher, spreading you open with gentle hands and no shame. You buried your face in the pillow, breath stuttering as he began to lick between your folds.

Soft at first. Then deeper. More insistent. His hands gripped your hips as he worked you apart with mouth and tongue, moaning into you when your body started to tremble.

It was too much and yet not enough.

Your fingers clenched in the sheets as heat built and broke like a wave. But Auston didn’t stop—not until your hips were twitching and your moans cracked open the quiet.

And when he finally pulled away, his lips were slick, eyes dark with heat. He leaned over you again, kissing the back of your shoulder, your jaw, your ear.

“Still with me?” he whispered.

You nodded, dazed. “Please. Don’t stop now.”

You didn’t have to ask twice.

He simply guided your hips up a little, his chest pressed to your back as he slid into you—slow, thick, and deep. The stretch made your breath catch, your body arch. His hands flattened against yours on the mattress, fingers lacing.

He moved with reverence, hips rolling in deep, steady strokes. The angle—him above and behind, his mouth at your neck—made you ache in a new way. Each thrust stoked the pleasure again, not sharp like the night before, but rich and slow, a different kind of hunger.

You moaned his name, and Auston swore under his breath, driving in deeper.

“You feel so good, baby,” he gritted. “So fucking good.”

Your answer was a gasp, a tremble, a soft cry when his hand slipped beneath you again and circled your clit—just enough to make you tip over the edge again. Your body clenched, back arching, as you came hard beneath him.

And he followed fast, hips stuttering, breath ragged in your ear as he emptied himself inside you, still holding your hand.

You both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving, legs tangled beneath the covers.

Auston’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you back against his chest. He kissed your shoulder once. Then again.

“Good morning,” he murmured, still breathless.

You turned your head just enough to smile. “Best one in a while.”

And you meant it.

Later that day, you sat curled in the corner of your couch, legs tucked beneath you, hands nervously toying with the edge of your phone case. The message still lingered in your inbox—cryptic, harmless on the surface, but soaked in implication.

Maya: Timing’s everything. Just a little more and it’ll all be over. Finally.

You stared at it, rereading it for the third time before you finally said, “Jess… can I show you something?”

Jess looked up from the kitchen, hair piled in a top knot. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and came over, her brow pinched in curiosity.

You handed her your phone. Watched her eyes skim the text.

She didn’t speak at first, but then opened her mouth slowly to speak. 

“When did she send this?”

“Last night.”

Jess’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “That’s… weird.”

You nodded. “It’s not what she said. It’s how she said it.”

Jess read the message again, thumb hovering above the screen, then let out a quiet sigh. “I’ve thought about it before,” she said finally. “Back when the posts first started. Something about the tone—it always felt… personal. Like she knew too much. But I didn’t want to believe it.”

You looked at her, heart thudding. “So, you thought it too?”

Jess nodded slowly. “Yeah. But Maya’s been our friend for years. She was always just… there. Funny. So positive and happy. The least likely to do something like this.”

“She said she was fine,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Jess. “She always said she was fine.”

Jess’s voice softened. “Sometimes people don’t want you to see the cracks. Especially when they’ve spent so long smiling through them.”

You leaned back, phone still glowing on the coffee table between you. “I don’t want it to be her. I really don’t.”

Jess sat beside you. “But it makes sense. Doesn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Because it did.

The phrasing. The timing. The way Maya’s messages always seemed to know just enough. Like someone writing from inside your house. Someone who once knew your passwords. Your moods. Your weakness.

“She’s not going to confess if we confront her,” Jess said, quiet but certain. “If we charge in, she’ll lie. She’ll deflect. She’s too proud to fold under pressure.”

“So, what do we do?”

Jess tilted her head. “We wait. We invite her out. Let her think it’s a regular catch-up. Let her bring the story to us.”

You looked at her, unsure. “And what if she doesn’t?”

“Then we know.” Jess reached out and squeezed your hand. “But either way, we do this smart. Not emotional. You’ve been the story long enough. It’s time you took the pen back.”

You exhaled, the weight of it all sinking in.

You: Hey, coffee soon? Haven’t caught up in a while.

Maya: Sure. Our usual spot?

You: Perfect. See you tomorrow?

Maya: Can’t wait.

You stared at the screen long after the chat went dark.

You weren’t sure what would happen. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to happen. But one thing was clear: you were ready to hear the truth. Even if it broke you.

_

Sunday -

The café smelled like burnt espresso and cinnamon. It was your usual spot—warm light, scuffed floorboards, the gentle hum of indie music floating beneath clinks of ceramic. You’d met here a hundred times before. After work. On slow Saturdays. In moments when the world was a little too much and you just needed your girls.

But today, the energy was off.

You sat at the corner table with Jess beside you, her coat still on, fingers wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. Across from you, Maya stirred her drink in slow, lazy circles, the spoon clinking against the mug like a metronome marking the pace of something quietly unravelling.

No one spoke right away. Not really like you.

Jess was the one to try and open with something easy. “How’s work? Still chasing chaos?”

But Maya just gave a vague shrug. “Same old.”

You nodded. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

Maya looked up, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “So have you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t hostile. Just… unfamiliar. Like the three of you had been dropped into a conversation halfway through a play you didn’t audition for. Jess tapped her nails against her cup. You adjusted the sleeve of your jumper. Maya kept stirring.

“You seemed off the other day,” Jess said finally. “Everything okay?”

Maya gave a tight little smile. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

You exchanged a glance with Jess.

“Maya—” you began, but she cut you off.

“No, really,” she said, louder this time. “Everything’s great. You’re back with Auston. Everyone forgave you. The WAGs are obsessed again. Even Jess is fielding hockey boy attention. Life’s peachy.”

The words hit with a sharpness you didn’t expect. “Okay… what’s going on?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Maya’s smile twisted. 

Jess stiffened. “Get what?”

Maya sat back, eyes narrowing at you. “Do you have any idea what it’s like watching someone coast through life while you’re clawing for air the whole time?”

You frowned. “Maya, that’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” she snapped. “You had everything. Have everything. Talent. Looks. The job. The attention. And you never fucking appreciated any of it.”

Your heart stuttered. Jess leaned forward, voice calm but firm. “Okay. Let’s not do this here.”

“No, let’s,” Maya said, and suddenly her voice cracked—not angry. Just exhausted. “Let’s talk about how I busted my ass for years trying to get anyone to take me seriously. No internships. No by-lines. Nothing. And you? You waltzed in with your clean résumé and PR smile, and everything just fell into place.”

You stared at her. “You think it was easy for me?”

“I think it was easier,” she hissed. “Because you were you. Perfect. Polished. Marketable. You knew the right people. Said the right things. And when that wasn’t enough, you caught him.”

Auston.

The name wasn’t spoken, but it didn’t need to be.

“Maya…” Jess’s voice dropped, suddenly cautious.

But she ignored her.

“I loved him,” she said, eyes locked on yours. “And I know that sounds pathetic. I know he never saw me. But I saw you. The way you looked at him. The way you ignored it. Took it for granted. You had something I wanted more than anything, and you didn’t even know you were holding it.”

You swallowed hard; words caught in your throat.

“So yeah,” she said, voice hardening. “I wrote the first post. And the second. And every other one after that. Because I couldn’t be the girl who got him. But I could be the girl who ruined the one who did.”

The confession cracked through the air like glass underfoot.

You felt Jess freeze beside you. Heard the hum of conversation around you, far away. Maya looked away, jaw clenched, as if ashamed of herself—but not enough to take it back.

“I wanted to make you pay,” she whispered. “For never realising how lucky you were.”

The pain in your chest bloomed slowly.

“I was lucky,” you said softly. “And I fucked it up. And I hurt people. But I never tried to hurt you, Maya. You were my friend.”

She flinched.

Jess leaned in, voice low. “You didn’t just write gossip, Maya. You invaded privacy. You humiliated people. You targeted her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Maya snapped. “You think I haven’t stayed up every night for weeks knowing this would fall apart eventually?”

“Then why not stop?” you asked. “Why keep going?”

“Because if I couldn’t be the one he loved—at least I could be the reason you didn’t get to keep it.”

The truth cut deeper than the cruelty.

But then Jess stood slowly, her hand brushing yours. “Come on. I think we’re done here.”

You allowed a second to pass before you stood too—slowly, like you weren’t quite sure how your legs were holding you up. Maya didn’t look at either of you as you turned to leave. But just before you reached the door, she spoke again.

“I didn’t do it for clout,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I did it because watching you be happy hurt.”

You stopped—but didn’t turn back.

Then after a moment, Jess gently nudged you forward. And you left the café without another word. 

_

Monday -

The locker room buzzed with post-game chatter and the soft clicks of cameras. Reporters gathered in the usual scrum, microphones extended like antennae, eyes trained on Auston Matthews—still in partial gear, damp hair curling at his temple.

A reporter leaned in. “Auston, another strong performance tonight—two assists and the OT winner. What’s been fuelling your game lately?”

Auston shrugged lightly, towel slung around his neck. “Just… locked in, I guess. Trying to keep things simple. Have fun with it.”

Another voice piped up—this time from the back. “And off the ice? You seem… lighter lately. Happier. Anything—or anyone—to thank for that?”

He paused.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, knowing smile. He didn’t rush the answer. Just let it linger for a beat too long before finally replying.

“Yeah. I’m in love.”

The room stilled for a second. Pens scratched faster. Cameras zoomed.

He chuckled softly, eyes dropping for a moment like the weight of the truth had just settled in properly.

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

[giddydelphiresearcher]

I needed jagged glass for tutorial 3 so I fused six glass shards into a shuriken. Patient got fuckin attacked by a ninja. Who also gave them tumors. For tutorial reasons

Also there's a sprite(s) for the threads of the stitched closing wound but not for the actual thing so I put a laceration under it to make my own

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Call Sign Half Caff: Part Two

(Ok so y'all really liked that and I'm freaking flattered. I'll keep writing if you'd like. I do want to add maybe a small amount of spice later in the series.)

TW: Blood, punctured lungs, medical inaccuracies, broken ribs. Reader was attacked.

Part 1 : Part 3 : Masterlist

Jack’s right leg already throbs. He curses as he and Robby descend the last set of stairs and reenter the ED. They both need to stop starting and ending their shifts on the roof.

“Myrna’s back as well. She’s in a particularly bad mood so steer clear of her.” Robby says as they approach the main desk of the ED.

“Go. I’ll hold down the fort. Just don’t be late tomorrow morning.” Jack laughs as he nudges Robby towards the door. Before he can reassure Robby again, one of the newer med students, Dr. King, bolts past them towards one of the trauma rooms. She pushes aside the curtain, and the panic-stricken face Jack sees sends his stomach dropping.

GiGi, the owner of his favorite coffee shop, sends him a pleading look. Before he can even think, he’s running towards the trauma room, Robby following closely at his heels.

He freezes as he takes in the cursing and battered woman before him. He all but pushes Dr. Shen out of the way as he dodges the flying hands of y/n.

“Half Caff the fuck happened?” He growls as he tilts her head up to inspect her swelling and bruised eye. She coughs slightly and he notices the blood filling her mouth. He’s barking orders even as Robby asks him to stand down.

“Gunnery Sergeant I am fine!” She smacks his hands away, another cough makes her chest feel like it’s full of broken glass. “It’s just a black eye.” He grabs her wrists and pins them to her sides as Robby starts using his pen light to test her pupil reactivity. She squints and turns from the light.

“Female, late 20s, attacked in an alley. Suspected concussion, broken ribs, displaced nose...” Dr. Shen’s voice fades out as Jack doesn’t even see red, he sees the harm covering y/n’s body. He’s trying to swallow his panic and fear. With the damage done to her torso, she shouldn’t even be able to sit up, let alone fight him.

“I found her in the alley, and she fucking asked me to take her home. Said it was just a concussion.” GiGi says, as Jack forces y/n to lay down, her rattling breaths growing more forced.

“Abbot, stop, I’m fine.” She wheezes; her eyes panicked. 

His heart sinks. She never uses his last name. Always Jack or some form of army rank. Never Abbot. He doesn’t even need to pull his stethoscope from around his neck to know that one of her lungs is punctured.

She’s gulping for air as she tries to keep her comedy going. He knows as soon as she starts acting serious over her condition, she’ll break and panic.

“Hey, hey!” Abbot says sternly as he lets Robby take over. He’s got her hand clenched between both of his; he tries not to panic as he notices the blood on his gloves. Her blood literally on his hands.

“You’ve got quite a bit of damage there Half Caff.” She smiles weakly at her nickname. “You’ve got way more than a fractured nose.” He pauses as Robby shoots him a look after inspecting her ribs. He shakes his head no, not broken.

“It’s not that big of a deal I’ll be fine I just need to go home…” He’s shushing her as she starts to panic.

“You are not going home right now. In a bit, but not right now.” He tries to keep himself and her sanity anchored as he pulls her attention back to him as she glances around the room.

“You’re Robby.” She coughs out noting Robby’s badge, a sad laugh rattles her lungs. “You should be going home. Sorry to barge in.”

Robby smiles softly, still listening to her lungs battle for oxygen. “We’ll have some proper introductions later, stop talking you’re just going to make your lungs worse.”

Abbot glances up as Dr. King pushes morphine through y/n’s IV, her eyes becoming glassy as the pain med kicks in.

“Private here has told me a bit about you.” She spits the blood out of her mouth into the metal tray Abbot’s placed by her head.

“Still talking.” Robby raises his eyebrows at Abbot. “Someone’s a fighter.”

“Almost fought someone at the meeting today. Another person angry they missed all the action.” Jack says as he listens to Dr. Shen order a round of scans. “Add a CBC and an MRI.” Shen shoots him a look. 

“I got beat up, you aren’t looking for POTS, cancel the CBC.” Y/n mumbles, wrinkling her nose as the nasal cannula is placed, supplementing her oxygen. Jack scoffs as she uses her one piece of medical trivia against his orders.

“Respiratory rate is down with a higher oxygen percentage, pulse normal.” Dr. King calls, Jack feels a small amount of relief cool his body and mind. 

“Don’t.” He says sternly as he notices y/n about to open her mouth again. “Cut the comedy you’re fine.” She rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow at him. He’s still got her hand clasped.

“Course of treatment for a punctured lung Dr. King.” Robby asks.

“Of course I’m a fucking teaching case. Don’t go into the abbey kids.” He squeezes her hand to silence her.

“If the CT scans show a small puncture, aspirate with a 14-gauge needle, provide pain medication, oxygen therapy if necessary, and ensure the patient rests.” Dr. King recites, her hands clasped in front of her.

“She’s stable, let’s get her to CT.” Robby says as he starts to remove his gloves, Dr. Shen and King begin wheeling y/n out.

“See you in a bit.” Jack says, finally releasing her hand. She gives him a watery smile, clearly feeling the full effects of the morphine.

He rubs the back of his neck as Robby looks at him and GiGi. He doesn’t think he’s showed this much emotion in the ED, or ever.

“What the hell happened?” Robby asks, the question pointed at GiGi.

“I don’t know! I was right behind her but by the time I was out with the recycling she was already on the ground. She wouldn’t let me call an ambulance; said we were only a block away.” 

“You have cameras pointed at the back door?” Jack asks, already noting in his head how he wants to police to handle this.

“I already handed the footage over to the sheriff posted outside. Once she’s back he’ll take a statement.” GiGi says, motioning back towards the ambulance bay they’d come in.

Jack’s normal nonchalance and composed demeanor is gone. He runs his hands through his gray curls as his mind starts reeling. Thinking only of Ben at the meeting earlier in the night. He tries to remember if he saw him leave before him.

He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until Robby’s snapping his fingers in his face.

“You going to be able to work this shift? Or should I call someone else in.” He’s got his hands on his hips as he assesses Jack.

“I’ll be fine.” Jack nods.

“Are you sure?” Robby’s tone is stern. “Because I’ve never seen you come that close to breaking before. I’m not sure you can let this go and be competent enough for the next eleven hours of your shift.”

Jack fixes him with his signature neutral face. “She’ll kill me if I don’t.” He may not know all of y/n’s life story, but he knows her well enough to know she’ll be pissed at him if he tries to stick with her while she’s still here. Guilty even if he pulls himself off the shift and she learns he wasn’t out helping people.

Jack clears his throat, “I’ll be fine. After the CT and with the meds they’ll give her, she’ll sleep the rest of the night as she stays for observation. I’ll have someone take over for Dr. King. You both should have left long ago.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, daring Robby to call his bluff.

Robby rubs his hands over his face, digging his fingers into his eyes. “If I hear otherwise, I’ll rip you a new one. GiGi, go the hell home. It’s Thursday and you’re always there for bedtime with your nieces.” She nods, hesitant to leave her friend in the ER alone.

“Go, and tell your brother to pull his shit together, we need his expertise back as soon as we can get it.” Jack says. “Get out of here Gertrude.”

She smiles softly and points a finger at him, “I swear our parents picked the worst names. Frank and Gertrude. Last I heard he’s doing good and in outpatient. Either of you call me by my full name again, I’ll show you how I got my little brother to do my liking when we were kids”

As the elder Langdon leaves, Robby claps Jack’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. That friend of yours is tough, she shouldn’t have been so talkative with the bruising to her ribs. My guess is the pneumothorax is small enough it’ll heal on its own. She’ll be in pain and probably has a concussion. I know we’ve seen worse.”

“She’s a friend though.” Jack only needs to mutter to make his point. Any other patient they’d have been in and out without a second thought. Now all he can think about is what she must have looked like, what she must have felt laying on the ground alone and scared. He knows it’s stupid, but he should have been there. Should have been there to protect her.

--

He keeps his promise. Sort of. He keeps his head in the game and deals with all the curve balls the night shift sends him. However, there’s that one part of his brain that keeps his worry for her active. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t check on her every so often. He trusts Dr. Ellis’s care, but this case is different. He doesn’t check on y/n because he doubts her care, he checks on her because he cares. And deeply at that.

“She’s awake and I guarantee she’ll kill you if you poke your head in. I saw you counting her breathing reps.” Lena, the night shift charge nurse, looks at him over her glasses. He grunts in response and sits down to chart. His nervousness given away by his left leg repeatedly bouncing.

“Heard she’s a tough one.” He turns to find Lena smiling.

“Don’t start.” He warns. He can smell the gossip and the potential of a new betting board.

“If she’s fighting against care and claiming she’s fine with six bruised ribs and a partially punctured lung, I think she can handle her few more hours of observation.”

“She’s getting discharged?” Jack asks, quickly scouring the board for her file number to glance through.

“Once her ride is here.” Lena’s got a smirk on her face. The news of how he reacted to y/n’s injuries (and the emotion he showed) will be the talk of the nurses’ station tomorrow.

He grumbles again as he tries to make himself look busy while pretending to chart. Once Lena walks away to tend to a patient, he’s up and pulling the curtain aside to check in on y/n.

“Get out of here Sergeant major.” She groans from the hospital bed, a hand raised to shield her eyes (eye) from the light. He closes the door and curtain behind him. He’s logging into the computer to look at her scans again while she continues grumbling at him.

“You were attacked, so sorry for caring short stack.” He smiles as she scoffs at him.

“Jack Abbot I will somehow manage to reach my feet and peel these grippy socks off to throw at you. I swear if you don’t get out there and do something other than watch me, I’ll make sure you never get coffee from GiGi’s café again.”

He only hums in response, his words failing him as he takes in her bruised form. Her eye has fully swollen shut and will probably still be once she’s discharged.

“Sheriff come in?” He asks as he peeks at her meds, fiddling with the saline bag to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve already asked me that. I’m concussed, not stupid.” She goes to cross her arms in defiance, a low whine makes it past her lips before she aborts the movement.

“Your ribs will hurt for the next few weeks. The puncture in your lung should heal on its own. Even though your concussion is minor you need…” She cuts him off her voice low but stern.

“To not sleep for too long and should have someone monitor me for the next few days. You know I was listening when Ellis was talking. I also happen to be able to read so I can peruse the discharge paperwork.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight to his left foot.

“Your leg is bothering you. Go eat something and take some meds. Also get the hell out of my face.” She has a soft smile on her face as she turns the concern back to him. His heart flips as she manages to turn the situation back to him while she lays there injured.

“I’ll try my best to check on you before you’re discharged.” He smiles, his pulse picking up as she winks at him.

“Don’t. Go do your job. Also stick with Half Caff. You call me a stack of short again and I’ll be sure to throw your leg at you at the next meeting.” He snorts at her attitude.

He reaches the door but stops and turns. His pulse thrumming in his ears.

“If you give me your fucking phone number to ‘call you with any questions’, I’m going to throw up.” She wheezes out a laugh as he launches a pen at her.

“I hope you have weird dreams you menace.” He says as he finally leaves the room, a stupid smirk plastered to his face.

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

I'll try to set up my asks if anyone wants me to write some blurbs. Thanks y'all!

[mawlaeina]

BIRTHDAYS | SAGAU Childe

🍊 content: SAGAU! Childe x Reader

✦ content w: none! it’s fluff sorta

July 20.

It was the day that you looked forward the most every year.

Back then, July 20 was just the same as any other day for you—maybe another boring day of school, another day of work, or maybe even a local holiday. Whatever it was, it bored you (—unless it’s also your birthdate, I’m sorry).

That was the case until he came out.

He piqued your interest, even his story quest made you invested in him—more than you expected. You wished on his banner, joking about how you’ll get him first pull.

Your jaw drops—you got him at first pull.

You stared at the screen in disbelief—eyes glued, and jaw parted in awe as Childe came home in all his ginger glory. Eventually, you farmed enough resources so that you could main him through and through.

Moving forward to the present, you see a few tiktoks showing that other users had little to no crit rate for their damage showcases. However, that wasn’t the case for you.

Childe would always crit when you used him, especially when you played co-op with friends. Oh, how you loved it. In a way, it made you feel a bit special—though you later thought that you were just being delusional.

Then the clock struck 12am, a quick notification coming from your calendar saying that it was now July 20. You got out of bed, excitedly making your way to the kitchen with a smile as you hold a few sheets of paper and a pen in hand.

You take out a small cake from the fridge—decorated with orange frosting and a blue narwhal shaped decoration sitting at the top.

Some oranges from the nearby fruit bowl for good luck and prosperity.

A bottle of vodka and a shotglass—because you think Childe likes alcohol like a typical russian.

The mini speaker from one of the shelves so that you could play ed sheeran songs.

And lastly, his newly posted birthday art that you printed in high resolution just a few moments ago after it was posted on Genshin’s socials.

Now everything was complete. You place everything into position, lights dimmed as you used candles—the scented ones that smelled like the ocean.

It was your 4th time celebrating his birthday now, and you did this little celebration annually since his release, as if it were some kind of ritual.

Sure, it wasn’t anything too fancy, like the ones you see on social media where they fill the table to the brim for Childe’s birthday. But you were doing this out of pure love for Childe.

You set the pen and papers aside as you began to sing him a happy birthday song. You laugh awkwardly since you celebrated alone, and it wasn’t even your birthday. This was why your friends called you delusional, but you didn’t mind it—not when it made you happy, and how it was a way you could express the love you have to offer for Childe.

Now midnight had long passed, and ed sheeran was playing over the speaker. The cake had been eaten in half, an orange 3/4th finished, and the vodka nearly half. You cursed yourself for continuing to take shots earlier despite having such low alcohol tolerance.

Yet that didn’t stop you from finishing the last act of celebrating Childe’s birthday—his birthday letter.

You sat at the counter, head rested on one of your hands as your elbow sat shakily on the counter. Your other hand was busy scribbling lazily on the paper—handwriting coming off as an imitation of cursive, but it was readable still.

There were about two or more letters that you had already finished, and now you were writing another one as Photograph began to play on the speaker.

You wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

Expressing your heart out in sweetness, bitterness, and affection, all directed towards Childe alone. You wrote about your days and experiences after the last celebration of his birthday—you were writing to him as if he were real.

You finished the last letter, ending it with your signature. You sighed before chuckling sadly, knowing that the letters won’t reach him—and if they do, you knew he might not acknowledge them.

You were lovesick for someone who wasn’t real, someone who doesn’t share the same skies as you do.

On the other hand, inside one of the homes of Snezhnaya. Childe is woken up on his birthday by Teucer, who shakes him in excitement, reminding him that it was his birthday today. Childe smiled at his younger brother, ruffling his hair as he says that he’ll come down in five minutes to celebrate his birthday with his family—he needed some sleep, he had just returned home after a fatui mission after all.

Teucer agrees and exits Childe’s room, and finally the ginger makes a move. He sits up and stretches lightly, ruffling his hair a bit as he lightly pinches the bridge of his nose. He makes it a mental note to keep the promise he made with Teucer to go ice fishing the other day.

He sighs before he glances at his pillow. He wonders if there would be letters today as well since it was his birthday.

Ever since he started to receive letters under his pillow from his 21st birthday (2021) from an unknown person, he began to receive them annually. The number of letters always gradually increasingly, and always coming from the same person.

He remembered that he tried to track the sender of the letter down, only to come to a dead end every time. Eventually, he just found himself looking forward to receiving them, ocassionally reading them from time to time during his breaks.

Maybe it came from you? The one from across the screen?

He sees you, yet he can’t seem to communicate with you. He hears you as well, and he can’t help but recall the sounds you make when you have your little victories with him after boss fights.

He initially gave it some thought, and later came to a conclusion that maybe it did come from you—since you rarely ever come online when it’s his birthday, but when you do it’s usually at the last remaining hours of the day.

He slides a hand under the pillow, almost immediately feeling what seemed to be like three or five sets of letters. He chuckled quietly to himself as he took them out, revealing an actual number of 6 letters.

He reads them one by one, laughing a bit every now and then from the jokes you made, confused at some of the ‘references’ that you made—who was ed sheeran?

Then, there’s the part where you wrote down about how you felt towards him. His smiles fade into a poker face as he reads them with an unreadable expression—he’s unsure of what he’s supposed to feel.

He doesn’t think that he shares the same feelings that you had for him, at least, that’s what he believes. All that he knows is that you’re worlds different from him—existentially speaking. So, he’s never thought about it in the first place.

He’s thought of you as a comrade more than anything else.

Yet the letters he receives from you never fails to include such feelings—the same love and affection directed towards him, all written differently over the years.

“Ajax!” He heard his mother call him from downstairs, it seemed like they were growing a bit impatient. He looked at the clock on the wall, finally realizing it had been more than 5 minutes as he’d been busy reading your letters.

“Coming!” He responds plainly before he lets out a small yawn.

He stands up from the bed and leaves it in its messy glory as he approached a wooden box that sat idly on the nearby shelf.

He opens the box, revealing all the other letters that he received from you since his 21st birthday. He stores the newly received letters on top of the others, stacking them neatly so that it doesn’t look as messy as his bed.

There were now 15 letters in the box, and in his mind he was still counting.

He closes the lid as he took out a shirt from the closet, putting it on before he exits his room.

He somehow feels guilty, or rather he feels weirdly uneasy that he can’t return the favor nor your feelings. He silently hopes that you’d grow out of it, that it’ll pass in the end.

Yet a part of him also doesn’t want that to happen. He’s somehow conflicted.

He temporarily pauses in front of the window across his bedroom door. He looks up at the sky, fully knowing that celestia isn’t quite real—that it only existed in this confined world that he was living in.

He wished maybe the skies that you had in yours were brighter, fresher (and doesn’t lag).

Childe proceeded to walk away from the window and towards the stairs. A little smile plastered on his face as he comes down to greet his large family. He opens his arms as they swarm him with a loving hug.

He began to think.

Maybe it would be nice if you were here too.

✦ “delusional” oh you mean mentally unstable ^v^?

✦ childe it’s fine if you don’t love me back, i have enough love for the both of us TwT <3

✦ is it obvious that he’s my comfort character? what an odd guy, idk how he became my comfort character (i love him)

✦ he’s ed sheeran of Snezhnaya, change my mind

✦ i’m too emotionally invested in him, help

✦ btw that little ritual is personal experience, i do it every year for him and i’ll do it this year too :)

[ghostybaby000]

Sessions | Part 1

Part 2

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Fighting, SA, cursing, future smut, fluff, panic symptoms, intense stress

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso

You were breathing hard, the sweat stinging your eyes, the room was darker than before- or was it? You didn’t have time to take notes. 

Focus. This is supposed to be life or death.

The lights in the room were blinding as you used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from your face, a shadow Infront of you when your hand dropped. A looming shadow of a man over 6 foot tall, with broad shoulders who moved incredibly well given his size. 

Simon stepped closer, the light illuminating him in the room, you exhale and your shoulders drop, you had been bested again, and caught off guard. The room was an average size for a gym and could hold probably 15 to 20 people comfortably, although it was just the two of you tonight. The only lights left on were the ones in the center of the room, making a dark circle for an outer ring, where you practiced in the middle. 

‘You have to be ready for any approach.’ His voice was low and serious, although his intentions were innocent and thoughtful. You look down to your hands and feel them ache through the wrappings he had put on.

He began to circle the outer ring of darkness eventually falling back into the shadows somewhere behind you,

‘Again.’ You took a sharp inhale in as you tried to listen for where he could be in the room. It was entirely silent. Your thoughts of the ache in your hands began to creep in as you tried forcing them out, the thought of not being ready was only making this harder. 

A boot scuffs the floor behind you, whipping around you see nothing. Your ears strained in the silence only put you more on edge, every noise was important. 

You kept your posture in check, taking a stance that was ready for combat. You again hear the boot on the floor, this time behind you spinning around again there was nothing. Now time was dragging on in the small hot circle of light, your readiness only increasing. 

The thoughts in your mind cease as you spin around, throwing your arm to punch at whatever was behind you, and making contact. A pad over Simons chest had caught the blow, a smile coming over your face as you dropped your hand, achievement outweighing the pain that followed. 

‘Better?’ You looked up to Simon who had a small grin over his face, you knew he was proud. You had made substantial progress from the first few sessions you had done together, where you could hardly imagine punching Simon let alone practicing under these circumstances. 

Simons eyes traced over you, eventually making their way down to your hand that you were holding. 

‘Yes, you did good. I thought the noise would have distracted you, but you listened to it all, instead of focusing on one noise.’ His smile grew as he took your delicate hand in his and lifted it, beginning to unwrap it under the light. 

Your smile begins to fade as the ache grows with every movement, you had been in here for a long time tonight and clearly it was catching up quick. 

‘Do they hurt? The padding helps, but truly hitting someone would be more damaging.’ His eyes were looking over your hand, where small bruises started to form over the knuckles. You slowly pulled your hand out of his, taking a moment to look yourself before letting your hands fall. You rolled your shoulders as you looked to the floor, you were tired and aching in more than just your hands. 

‘They’ll be fine, I just need to build a tolerance.’ You met Simons eyes for a moment where they closed ever so slightly, he was skeptical. 

‘Now, I’d really like a shower and to get to bed, can we go?’ Simons posture relaxed as he made his way closer to you, his hands wrapping around the small of your back where they rested as he looked at you. 

‘I would like nothing more.’ A grin came over your face as you slowly pushed off of Simon to take his hand and make your way towards the door. You both gathered your things, turning on the lights for anyone who would come in after and headed out into the night. 

The car ride home was quiet, as you let your eyes rest the tiredness waging a war to take over. You open your eyes as the engine shut off, you were back home. Taking the bags Simon made his way first to the door, opening it so you were able to get inside and up to the shower. Glancing at the clock on the living room wall you catch that its beyond midnight, but still you push to make your way upstairs. You hear the main door closing as you too shut the bathroom door and begin to undress. 

You take your hair out of a frizzy braid, the relief already making you feel better. Then you took off your shoes and socks, and then the bandages around your hands.  After unwrapping them both, you take a moment to look at how bruised they are. On both sides almost each knuckle had a discoloration, but nothing was bleeding or broken so you took appreciation. 

You thought to the room where Simon had been training you, and had been pushing you to see growth. Your face fell as dark thoughts began to crawl back into your mind. You thought back to the night, this night in particular where these very skills would have been necessary. The night where things could have ended differently, with you not having to think of his ugly face or his sneering words, or his hands wrapping around you-

‘Hey, can I come in?’ The door was being knocked on as Simon waited outside patiently, and you hadn’t noticed. You wipe your hands over your face, pulling the door open to let Simon in. 

Everything would have been different if he hadn’t of shown up. 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It Prequel | Jungkook's Point of View

Summary: Jungkook fell first but when exactly did he fall? Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6k~ Warnings: Not suggestive language but something hinting at sexual activities lmao you'll see a/n: So I got this request a while ago but I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted it to go but I hope you guys like it! Barely edited per usual but again I would just prefer to get it out lmao (lemme know if you want a full prequel in the reader's pov 👀) Drabble requested by @turn02 💜 (sorry it took so long but hopefully it answered your questions)

"You're home early!" I say watching as Jina walks inside but she has another girl trailing in behind her that I've never seen before.

"Yeah they cancelled class and so I invited y/n to come over and study instead" she says, letting this girl I now know to be y/n pass by.

She looks back to watch Jina lock the door and then turns back towards the house, her jaw dropping from seeing the sheer size of it.

I chuckle from her cute reaction but compose myself once her eyes land on me. "Dad this is y/n, y/n this is my dad" Jina says, walking her over to say hi.

"You have a beautiful home Mr. Jeon" she says and the melodic sound of her voice makes me hum unconsciously in delight before clearing my throat to respond.

"Thank you darling I appreciate that. Please make yourself at home and you girls let me know if you need anything" I say, glancing over at Jina for a second before my vision focuses back on y/n.

"Fell free to call me Jungkook if you'd like, there's no need to be so formal with me" I say, lowering my voice slightly towards the end making her eyes widen slightly, nodding her head before responding.

"Thank you Mr. Jeon um- sorry I mean Jungkook" she stumbles over her words which makes her seem even more adorable than she already is.

Jina's eyes ping pong between the two of us before letting out a big sigh and pulling on her arm to drag her upstairs. "Come on, let's go study in my room" she groans and y/n stumbles for a bit before looking back over towards me.

"Thank you again!" she says quickly and I smile at her and give her a slight nod, enjoying watching her slightly panicked nature.

"Have fun you two!" I call after them and watch until Jina shuts her door behind them.

I chuckle to myself thinking about our little interaction, mumbling 'cute' under my breath before continuing onto my intended route to the kitchen.

I hope I'll get to see more of her, she seems like she would be a good influence on Jina and I'm quiet fond of her already.

~~~~~~

"Dad y/n's leaving" I hear Jina call out from where I am in my study and I make my way out to bid farewell.

"It was nice to meet you Mr. Jeon" she says politely and I raise a brow slightly making her stumble to change it again. "I mean Jungkook. Thank you for letting me come over" she continues as she stands near the door.

"Of course darling, come back anytime" I say and Jina clears her throat before any other words can be said and opens the door wide, waiting for y/n to make her way out.

"I'll walk you to you out" Jina says and y/n waves awkwardly while walking out, turning back only for a moment and catching my glance before Jina closes the door behind them.

A couple moments later I hear a car engine turn over which I assume is hers and the soft rumble of it trails off until my attention is turned back towards Jina walking through the door and slamming it behind her.

"I may have money to pay for damages young lady but you don't" I say, crossing my arms over my chest but she rolls her eyes in response.

"Why were you being so weird today?" she asks, mirroring my posture and cocking a brow at me. She really is my daughter isn't she.

"I don't know what you're talking about" I say, turning around and walking to the kitchen to start making dinner with her trudging behind me, taking a seat at the island in the middle of it.

"Dad" she whines and I know it's best to just wrap this conversation up than drag it out.

"Jina I was just being friendly. I do admit I found her to be quite adorable but I know she's your friend so you have nothing to worry about" I say, turning back towards her and making sure she knows that I truly mean it.

"Good! She has a boyfriend anyways" she says once I've turned back around and it takes everything in me to not show how tense that's made me. I may not go for her but the thought of other men around her already bothers me.

"Noted" I mumble under my breath and as soon as I place a pot on the stovetop to start boiling water for pasta she's already complaining.

"Can we get pizza instead? I've been craving it for like the past three days" I take a deep breath and decide to give in since I did kinda sorta flirted with her friend.

"Pepperoni alright?" I say while placing that pot back in it's home. "Yes please!" she says and jumps off the stool and runs upstairs.

~~~~~~~

Two years later at y/n's birthday getaway

"You guys headed headed off to the beach?" I question, looking up and seeing the three of them dressed in their swimsuits with Jared carrying the beach bag.

"Yeah actually do you think you could take a picture of us? I wanna make sure to get some nice pictures since it's y/n's birthday trip" Jina says and Jared whispers something in y/n's ear making her laugh but I can tell it's not genuine. Something's wrong.

"Sure" I say, getting off the couch and follow them outside, grabbing Jina's phone when they've found a good spot so they can take it with the ocean in the background.

"Alright one, two, three" I say, counting down and taking a few landscape and portrait pictures but clench my jaw once I've seen how Jared is sliding his hand further and further down y/n's waist until it's on her ass.

She stiffens once he's chanced squeezing it and calls it, ending our little photo shoot. 

She pries Jared's hand off her and turns around to go back in the house saying something along the lines that she needed to go grab something. As she walks past me I can see how flushed her cheeks are but not in a good way, bewilderment written all over her face and I follow her inside after having given Jina her phone back, making sure to glare at Jared before I do.

He scoffs at me before walking over to Jina where she's checking out the pictures and picking the best one. His demeanor noticeably shifts to an irritated once he sees his girlfriend's reactions to his not so subtle touches. Scoffing and no doubt cursing her for being such a prude in his eyes.

I walk over to where she has her hands gripping the sink, her back facing me and her shoulders tensed. I would kill him if I could, seeing how upset he's made her again.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, full well knowing it's not and noticing that she's put some sort of wrap around her waist. No doubt in an effort to cover up this sorry excuse for swimwear.

She takes in a deep breath, nodding and wiping off the tears that had started to prickle in the corner of her eyes, clearing her throat before responding.

"Yeah everything's totally fine just wanted to grab some water bottles before we head out" she says, opening the fridge next to her and grabbing a few.

I decide to not push the subject further so I don't make her even more uncomfortable than she already is, remembering to keep an eye on Jared instead. 

"Do you know what you'd like to eat tonight? I can book a reservation if you'd like" I offer, changing the subject and hopefully getting her mind off of what just happened. "Would you mind making something? You know I really love your cooking" she says, turning around to face me while placing the waters on the island that separates us. 

She looks up at me but quickly turns her eyes back down to the bottles, shy from making such an adorable request. "Sure darling, what would you like?" I question and I can see the wheels turning in her head trying to narrow it down to one thing. 

"Surprise me?" she finally says, looking up at me with a slight blush on her face and it takes every fiber of my being to hold myself back from kissing her, or worse, having her on her knees looking up at me with that oh so innocent expression. 

I clear my throat after having left too much of a lull in the conversation and acquiesce her request. "I'll have it ready at eight" I respond and she brightens up at my answer, nodding her head before grabbing the water bottles and runs out the backdoor to the beach. 

"Thank you Mr. Jeon!" she says excitedly and when watch her go she turns around and gives me a bit of a smile again. "I mean, Jungkook" she teases and laughs when she sees me cock a brow at her after the words have left her mouth. 

She's really testing my willpower these days but the worst thing is is that she has absolutely no clue. 

~~~~

Two years later...

"Dad I'm home and y/n's here too" I hear Jina call out and smile to myself before leaving my office and walk out to greet them. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I question but I know the answer. "Because I'm your daughter. Do I really have to warn you or did you not want me here?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest as I do the same, throwing the fault on me. 

I watch her for a few seconds while y/n closes the door behind her and takes off her shoes with one thing in particular catching my eye. 

"Did I miss something?" I ask, looking from one to the other. "What do you mean?" y/n asks, looking confused as ever. "Anything new happen?" I try, seeing if rephrasing the question will clue her in but it doesn't work. 

"The ring y/n" Jina says and y/n's eyes widen. "Oh! Yeah um, Jared proposed last week" she says, holding out her hand and showing me the ring with a pitiful excuse for a diamond on top. "Wow, congratulations" I say, grabbing onto her hand and mustering as much sincerity as I possibly can, knowing that things aren't turning out the way that I thought they would.

"I was kinda surprised since we hadn't really spoken about marriage but I guess he's ready for that next big step" she says nervously and I nod my head. "Are you ready?" I chance and she looks at me with a confused expression. "Excuse me?" she asks, clearly wanting to know the reasoning behind why I would ask that.

"Are you ready to take that next big step in your relationship? I mean you're both so young and freshly graduated" I start off and she tilts her head, still not sure as to why I would be worried about something like this. 

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into doing this so soon" I say softly and she nods her head and looks down, letting me know that I've tapped into something that she's been struggling with. "Just take time to think about it. You've got your whole life ahead of you" I say, squeezing her hand and she squeezes it back, taking me by surprise but I welcome it nonetheless. 

"So next order of business" Jina changing the subject, making me let go of y/n's hand, forgetting that Jina had been standing there this whole time. "I told y/n that I would ask you if we could hold her engagement party here. So can we?" she questions, her mood somewhat off today but I pay no mind and agree to it for y/n's sake. 

"Sure, anything you need" I respond, looking straight at her and seeing her demeanor is very much still drooping from the words I said just moments ago. "Great I'll start planning things out and get the ball rolling" Jina says and leaves y/n and I standing there as she wanders around the house. 

"I hope I didn't overstep" I start out and she shakes her head and looks up at me. "No you didn't I've just been asking myself the same thing" she admits exactly what I had seen written all over her body language. 

"I know you guys have been together ever since I met you but remember, quantity of time doesn't necessarily equal quality of time" I say and place a hand on her shoulder before turning to go. 

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll just be in my office" I say and make a quick escape while she mutters a soft 'okay' in response. 

'She's actually gonna marry him? Him? You've got to be joking. Dating him is bad enough but I thought he was just gonna be some trashy college boyfriend that she would eventually break up with. What about him is even worth marrying?' I ask myself, pacing back and forth in my office while I try to burn off some steam to keep the anger that's bubbling inside of me at bay.

~~~~

Going round and round in my head, trying to find a reason as to why she would be doing this I come up with a total of zero, or at least none that makes sense enough to want to commit to spending your life with someone like him. 

Who would want to marry a man like that?

A man who lusts over you but swears he loves you. A man who pushes your clear boundaries and makes you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. A man that touches you inappropriately in public when you've told him to stop. 

Over the last four years I've known them I've noticed that she acts more uncomfortable when he's around. She's so much more vibrant and carefree when she's here on her own so why would she she ever want to be with someone that takes away from that? I just don't understand it and I never will. 

The real question is, why am I obsessing over this? 

Yes she's adorable, that's something that I've thought from the beginning though. She's also insanely attractive, seeing how grown up she looks now going from a shy little second year college student to being two years post graduation with a good head on her shoulder and dreams and ambitions. 

Where as Jared barely graduated, isn't even close to being employed anywhere where he can use the degree he had studied for and still has that stupid frat boy mentality. 

When I look at the two of them I just see clear opposites and I think in this situation the fact that opposites have attracted is going to be the cause of her downfall. 

I don't want her to end up having kids with this deadbeat and having to deal with a husband that over sexualizes her and leaves her to work, take care of the kids, cook and clean. Because without a doubt that's the kind of husband he would be to her.

I must just care for her wellbeing since I've known her for so long. 

People have mistaken her for my daughter on occasion if I happen to take her and Jina somewhere and it just makes me cringe every time I hear it. 

She's not my daughter. She's anything but my daughter. Yes she's my daughter's friend and we've become somewhat close and I care about her but she is not my daughter. 

Maybe the reason I'm so bothered by everything about this is that I've started to develop feelings for her. 

Thinking back and remembering all of the good times we've had together it seems like I've liked her for a while now. I could even love her but it looks like I won't be able to explore those feelings anymore with this all happening.

It's just my luck that I start to figure it out right before she marries him.  

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[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 21

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27

Over on the shores of the White Sea, Sanji stands on top of a large boulder with the crystal heart in his hand, holding it tightly against his chest as he watches the Warlord who is standing on the shallows of the cloud sea.

Sanji

Our very last deal, Doflamingo.

Your brother for my own.

Doflamingo smiles widely at him, his teeth baring hungrily. He walks up towards Sanji and stops just below the boulder, looking into the man’s transformed red eyes.

Doflamingo

And you?

Sanji cocks his head to the side playfully and drags his eyes up and down Doflamingo’s figure. He raises his free arm, opening an open palm hand to him.

Sanji

Of course.

The Warlord hums in pleasure as he reaches out to gently take Sanji’s hand in his. He places a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Doflamingo

Consider it done.

—

Den Den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

Zoro flinches awake at the noise. He opens his eye weakly and finds one of Law's transponder snails near him and all three of his swords piled neatly next to it. He pushes himself up with difficulty and grimaces at the sharp searing pain across his abdomen. When he looks down, he sees a bloody dagger sticking out of his stomach. He places a hand over it to pull it out then screams at the intensity of the pain. He looks at his red hands and realises that his robe has been torn to shreds and his torso is riddled with cuts and bruises from his fight with Sanji.

It was, by far, the quickest battle they ever had. He had made the mistake of underestimating him having never seen the blonde in that form. He vaguely remembers what happened but he distinctly recalls the man's streaked black hair with those murderous maniacal eyes behind it.

Sanji had fought differently–he was much stronger, had the ability to fly and go invisible, and looked as though every cut he gave and received brought sexual pleasure. It occurred to him that this may have been less of a fight and more as a form of play for the other man. Towards the end, Sanji had bitten him on his neck just to get a taste of his blood before delivering a fatal attack with the blade currently embedded inside him.

Den Den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

Zoro steels himself as he grips the handle of the dagger. He quickly yanks it out with a hiss then covers his open wound with his hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

He collapses onto his back, panting. As he lay there to recover, he notices that he's surrounded by fire and a thick cloud of smoke. The island, like every place where they had battled in the past, became collateral damage as a consequence for their actions.

Den Den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

With a groan, he forces himself on his fours and crawls to the transponder snail to answer the call.

Den Den Mushi

Click

Zoro

T–Traffy…?

Law

Zoro-ya! Are you there?! He took Cora-san!!

Zoro

Wh–what?

Law

The heart! I meant the heart!!!

Where are you?!

Zoro

I…I don't know. Curls and I fought and… I don't remember.

Law

Can you make it back to the city? We need to help God and the Skypieans.

Zoro

Shit.

With a hand on a knee and the other holding the snail, he forces himself up and looks around. When a gust of wind blows past him, a section of flames part, giving way to the view of the White Sea. Docked by the cloudy shore is none other than the Numancia Flamingo itself.

Zoro's eye widens at the sight. His blood boils as he drops the Den Den Mushi to pick up his swords. He gasps for air with difficulty and takes a couple of steps towards the general direction of the ship. An animalistic rage builds up inside of him, creating a dangerous aura of green which engulfs him.

Law

Zoro-ya, are you still there?!

Look, we've both been stabbed on the back but I think he had a reason–I don’t understand it either.

Zoro-ya, can you hear me? Come back to the city. Commander Niji is here with me! We can come up with a plan to stop the Pirate King and Doflamingo!

Zoro doesn't easily put his faith and trust in anyone. He'd never felt more betrayed in his life. In flashes, he remembers every moment he and the blonde had shared leading up to this point–the teasing, the jabbing, the play fights, the intimate times and the whispered promises of the future. He felt happy and whole. Then everything crumbled in an instant. Everything they did, he looked at Sanji behind rose-coloured glasses. Now, he still sees red–but they're not the colour of love.

Zoro

This is all his fault….

I will fuckin' kill him.

He secures the blades around his waist.

Law

Swordman-ya, I need you to calm down. Don't do anything brash.

There is a sound of screaming in the distance through Law's line, followed by the yelling and shouting of Wyper's familiar voice, ordering his troops of God's Guards and residents of Skypiea to retreat.

Law

Fuck!! We don't have a lot of time!

Zoro-ya, talk to me! Zoro!!!

Zoro's eye glows in anger as he takes one final step while unsheathing his swords and biting down on Wado.

Zoro

DOFLAMINGO!!!

He yells at the top of his lungs as his green powerful aura surges larger, fusing with the red burning flames of the jungle around him. He lunges into the sky towards the pink ship floating on the White Sea.

—

The city is ablaze and its citizens are under attack from Doflamingo's men. The flames spread like wildfire through tall buildings and Shandian teepees as Skypieans run for their lives. God's Guards fight back bravely, overwhelmed by the force.

Zooming past crumbling remains of charred buildings, Law runs side by side with Wyper who is leading the charge. Niji held onto the doctor's coat while riding on his back. Both of his legs appear to have been amputated.

The doctor shoots an angry glare up to the familiar sight of Doflamingo's Bird Cage against the open sky. He feels fear for the survival of the island's inhabitants.

Wyper

Everyone, get to Nola!!! Now!!! Follow Gan Fall!

Holy barks as Conis pushes Gan Fall onto his back. The dog howls as soon as the blonde woman hops up to join them, then takes off.

As Gan Fall and the Skypieans near the exit of the valley, they see a large man with yellow hair and an open shirt land in front of the gates, blocking the only way out. On his chest is Doflamingo's Jolly Roger. Gan Fall pulls back his javelin and throws it, only for the opponent to dodge out of the way. He eyes the old man dangerously.

Bellamy

You the one they call “God”? Your reign ends here!

Law

Bellamy…. One of Doflamingo's lackeys. Be careful, Wyper. He's strong.

Conis 

Stay back! Don't touch him!

Wyper 

Conis!!

Wyper jumps high and shoots a beam of powerful light from his bazooka, blasting the exit to create a wider passage for everyone. Bellamy scrambles out of the way and gets thrown off in the explosion.

Wyper

Old man, I got this one. Be safe!

Conis, take care of each other!

Conis

I wi–AHH!!

A giant net shoots towards them. Holy quickly rears up and blocks it with his body to protect his passengers but his face and legs get captured in it. Gan Fall and Conis tumble off the dog as he collapses roughly on the ground. Out of nowhere, more of the Warlord's men surround and attack them.

A burst of blue electricity suddenly shocks the raiders and they fall, twitching and writhing about on the ground. Everyone follows the source of the spark with their surprised eyes and sees Niji with two of his fingers pointed over Law's shoulder, almost out of breath.

Conis 

Th–thank you!

Gan Fall

You look familiar….

Law

Later, God! You need to go!

Wyper quickly frees Holy out of the net and lifts Gan Fall and Conis onto his back. They hear Bellamy scream as he launches towards them. Wyper places himself in between and blocks his punch by holding his bazooka across his arm, allowing the giant dog to flee.

Bellamy

Get out of my way or I will gut you!

Wyper 

I'd like to see you try.

The two begin to exchange a barrage of attacks at each other as the crowd moves past the city and into the thick jungle with Gan Fall and Holy leading the way. Law follows a distance behind. 

Law

Commander, what the hell happened to you? How did you find us?

Niji

What do you think? The fuckin' Warlord happened–that’s what! He removed my legs so I couldn't get away. I had to crawl here. It took fuckin’ forever. If that giant dog hadn't found me, I wouldn't have made it in time.

Law

How did you cross cloud rivers with those sky sharks?

Niji

Mate…get me a beer and I'll tell you the whole story. It wasn't easy. It involved a lot of swinging on vines.

If the current situation isn't as dire, Law would have laughed, remembering their game where Zoro bellowed out animalistic noises as he swung over the jungle.

Wyper glances at them to ensure everyone's safe escape. Bellamy takes advantage of his blind spot and delivers a powerful punch fortified with armament haki. The warrior staggers backwards and drops his bazooka accidentally. The other man raises his opposite fist above him to chain his attack.

Niji flicks up two fingers and points them at Bellamy, sending a surge of electricity his way. It stuns the man, making him shake violently from where he stood. Wyper takes the opportunity to pick up his bazooka and whack the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

Wyper

Thanks!

Niji gives him a weak nod as Law finally runs past the gates. The warrior joins them to catch up.

As they run, one of the watchtowers’ support pillars gives. The structure crashes, raining burning debris down their way.

Before Law and Wyper can act, Niji points his fingers upwards to zap the collapsing watchtower into smaller pieces around them, practically dissolving the structure into a rain of charred mulch. They continue running but the doctor notices the blue-haired man's shaky hand and breathless condition.

Law

Stop helping, dumbass!

Niji

I can't. Doctor…stop. Stop! We need to help my brother. He's at the White Sea just east from here.

Wyper 

I thought you two looked similar!

Law

Why on earth should we? He stole the Heart of Skypiea! He took away Cora-san’s gift!

Wait, why am I helping you?!

Niji 

Doflamingo held me for ransom. He wanted your Corazon for himself.

And…my brother.

Law

I've just had enough of this self-sacrificial habit of his.

Niji

Law…I made a dreadful mistake. Doflamingo bought my brother as his slave. We have to get him before he puts on his Raid Suit. He might not have a choice. He'll be an emotionless soldier–like us without helmets.

Law

What?!

Law finally stops running and Wyper does the same alongside him.

Law

If he owns him, then Germa is as good as his.

Niji

Precisely.

Law

But how come you're fine? I don't see you wearing your helmet.

Niji

I uh…ate a condensed seastone just before my helmet broke. I didn't know if it would work but it seems potent enough. Though, I don't know if the effects last and how long for….

Listen, someone… something… has been slowly taking over my brother the more he wears his Raid Suit. I'm afraid that if he does it again this time…he will obey Doflamingo's orders without question.

I…I gave Roronoa Zoro his suit and knowing my brother, he'd have found out somehow.

Law

Why the hell did you do that?!

Niji

For emergencies…. He'll most likely change but at least he'll still be alive….

Trafalgar, please. Even without the Raid Suit, he can't survive Doflamingo. He doesn't have the heart to kill him with his own hands no matter how much he says otherwise.

Law groans out loud and readjusts his cap, thinking.

They hear Bellamy yelling after them from afar. It sounds like he managed to reunite with some of his crew and are chasing after the Skypieans.

Wyper glares at their general direction then looks at the two next to him.

Wyper

I don't get a lot of what you talked about but I understand enough to know that you have to go. I'd come with you but I can't leave my people. Will you be alright?

Law

I… fine. We'll go and get Mr. Prince-ya.

Wyper

And while you're at it, make sure you reclaim the heart. The old man may have trusted you enough to put it under your care, but it's an ancient artefact that originated here and I'd hate to see it used or destroyed by an evil hand. We don't know what it does.

Also…I don't want to see your beautiful face hurt, blue man.

Niji

…The fuck?

Law

It's a long story. If we want to succeed, we need to go now.

Commander, you said the Pirate King will change if he puts on the Raid Suit. What does that entail, exactly?

A nervous sweat drops on the side of Niji's brow. He purses his lips and swallows.

Niji

A ruthless assassin who takes pleasure in killing. The perfect soldier of war that our father dreamed of but never realised he had. He's a murderer, a thief and a psychopath.

We call him Stealth Black.

—

The Numancia Flamingo sets off with two passengers on board. Sanji secures the last of the sails as Doflamingo manned the helm. He steers the ship towards the closest known area where the White Sea ends so they may begin their descent.

Sanji

I assume that we're expecting company. Is it a really good idea to leave your men behind?

Doflamingo

They're disposable. Either they pull through and sink the island as I ordered, or they get themselves killed. It doesn't matter at this point. We just need time to get away. They'll serve their purpose.

Sanji

Good call. Shame the execution was poor.

Doflamingo

Excuse me?

Sanji ignores him and climbs the mast halfway up to get a good view of the burning island, on the lookout for anyone who may have followed them.

A sharp pain sears through his skull, accompanied by a deafening ringing noise. He yelps from the sudden sensation and grips his dark streaked hair, losing his balance and landing onto the deck with a hard thump. He writhes about and pulls his hair, groaning and moaning. He laughs at how good it felt.

Doflamingo frowns at the state of him from the upper deck.

Doflamingo

Get a hold of yourself. What's wrong you?

Sanji

Shut up. SHUT THE FUCK UP! He's fighting this so just give me a second!

He growls and pins his own head down against the wooden deck. The streaks of his dark hair flickers from the roots then out, turning blonde then black repeatedly. Eventually, the pain passes and he maintains his form, collapsing onto his back and gasping for air. He misses it already. He closes his eyes, and glides his fingers over his figure and hardened length, licking his wet lips.

Sanji

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Do it again. Come on.

He hears footsteps next to his head. When he opens his eyes, he sees Doflamingo looming over him with an unimpressed scowl on his face. He chuckles.

Sanji

Can I get my reward now… master? I feel so hot. I'm desperate.

Sanji gives him a devilish grin and runs his hand over the Warlord's exposed skin on his leg. Doflamingo's brow twitches in annoyance and pulls himself away.

Doflamingo

Now's not a good time, pet. Get up. I need your haki. We'll definitely get a following sooner or later.

Sanji

Hmm…no. Come on, climb over me, love. I need something in my mouth. Badly.

Doflamingo takes a sharp breath in surprise.

Doflamingo

You were angry… and you can say no to me. You're not supposed to be like this.

Sanji bites his bottom lip and runs his fingers down his neck.

Sanji

And…what am I supposed to be, hmm?

Doflamingo

Don't play. Explain yourself. Did you do anything different this time?

Sanji moans in pleasure as another surge of sharp pain sears through his skull once more. He grips the sides of his head as his eyes roll and his back arches from pure bliss. The colours of his hair flicker again.

Sanji

Fuck. FUCK! Here it comes~

He laughs maniacally, drool flowing from his mouth.

Sanji

He's really trying. I don't understand it but I think it's because this body is drugged. He's able to come through. 

Doflamingo practically feels the veins in his forehead pop.

Doflamingo

You're fuckin' high right now?

Sanji rolls side to side, taking in the pain. Doflamingo grunts in frustration and walks away, returning to the helm of his ship.

After a short moment, Sanji's sensation calms. He stands and makes his way to the upper deck to join the other passenger.

Sanji

I'm sorry, darling…. Are you upset at me?

He wraps an arm around one of Doflamingo's long legs and leans his head against it.

Doflamingo

A little. I just want to get you back.

Sanji

Oh? You know that I find you fun. I'll go along with whatever you want to do. 

Doflamingo

It's not you that I'm talking about.

Sanji

Hmm...of course I'm not. But didn't you say that we're disposable?

The Warlord briefly glances at him as he feels the other blonde relax against his leg. He sighs and cups Sanji's face with both hands. He shifts them so they're facing each other.

Doflamingo

No one in this world can ever replace you, Sanji.

Sanji cocks a curious brow.

Sanji

You're being weird today. I thought you'd be happy that I'm back?

Doflamingo's expression softens as he runs his thumb over the other blonde's lips.

Doflamingo

I am, pet. But I wanted him. Not you.

Sanji

Hmph. You're no fun.

Sanji pushes himself away and walks towards the stern. He leans against the railing and watches the island slowly get smaller.

Doflamingo

I have certain…regrets. And I'm not sure how to fix it.

Sanji

Motherfucker. I remember. It's a shame it wasn't me. It looked like fun.

And why the change of heart now? That's a terrible image of you. What would your subjects say if they saw you in this state?

He feels a hand wrap around his waist as Doflamingo turns him to look at him directly. The Warlord kneels down and leans his forehead against his. He stays there, sliding his hand up and down the other man's waist caringly as if trying to soothe him.

Doflamingo

I was so desperate to have you to myself that I destroyed everything we had built together.

Sanji stares at him in disbelief. His red eyes slowly fade into glassy bright blues and his hair settles into full golden locks. With his free hand, Doflamingo removes his own red sunglasses to lock their gazes together. He drops them and holds Sanji's hand.

Sanji

I loved you, Doffy.

Doflamingo

Sanji… I–

Sanji

But you harmed my friends, you took away my brothers…and you hurt me.

There is nothing you can do to fix this.

He squeezes the Warlord's hand before his head twitches. He flicks his hair back as they fully take a form of wavy jet black–any semblance of his yellow hair is gone. When he blinks, his sky blue eyes fade into deep scarlet red.

Doflamingo sighs in disappointment as he picks up his sunglasses and wears them.

Sanji

That was meant to be a goodbye but…never mind that.

I'm with you until the end, Doffy.

Sanji reaches out and caresses the other's cheek. Doflamingo slaps his hand away and stands.

Sanji

Now is probably a good time to tell you that Roronoa Zoro is currently on his way. It seems that he's bringing hell to you.

The Warlord isn't surprised. He walks to the railing and watches the island where a streak of green emerges from the burning remains of the upper jungle.

Zoro

DOFLAMINGO!!!

—

With Niji on his back, Law is standing on top of a small flying island that he had extracted from Upper Yard. He follows the commander's directions to go eastwards, constantly on the lookout for Doflamingo's pink ship.

Niji

Our sister's theory, Reiju, is that Sanji had developed this split personality as a coping mechanism due to past traumas of extreme sorts. He was so desperate to not become machine-like that he'd separated himself from it. 

Law

Bodies need something to run it. So this other being probably filled the void that your brother left behind. Cases of dissociative identity disorder aren't unheard of but I have a feeling that this “Stealth Black” is meant to be Sanji-ya’s “true” identity if your mother hadn't done anything to ruin your father's experimentation.

I don't think this will be an easy road for your family. I saw the signs but I wasn't certain…. It's not exactly my speciality.

The bad news is that you'll never get rid of him.

The good news is that even if he does fully take on this other identity, the Mr. Prince-ya we know will still be somewhere in there. It might just get harder and harder to bring him back out but he will never be completely lost. He's a part of Stealth Black as much as Stealth Black is a part of him.

Niji's grip on the doctor's coat tightens, feeling a small semblance of relief wash over.

Voice

DOFLAMINGO!!!

Law and Niji glance around as the voice echoes loudly across the burning jungle.

Law

That sounds familiar…

Niji

There!

Niji points downwards where a streak of green aura bursts out from tall dangerous flames.

Niji

It's the swordsman!

Law

Hang on tight!

Law flicks his wrist and the floating earth takes a sharp turn towards the enraged man.

From the corner of his eye, Law spots another streak of green flying towards Zoro at a great speed. It collides into the swordsman’s aura, bringing him down.

—

Zoro and Yonji wrestle in the air before crashing down by the shores of the White Sea. The impact sends a blast of powerful wind as they both get blown off to roll in opposite directions.

The swordsman quickly gets on his feet as the other wipes blood off the corner of his lips and stands up tall.

Zoro

I don't know who you are but you need to get out of my fuckin' way.

Yonji

Not a chance, Demon Warlord.

Zoro lunges towards Yonji who brings up his hand to send long indestructible lines of metal from his fingers. The swordsman swipes them out of his way to and fro. When he feels a sharp pain from the hole in his abdomen, he falters. The other man seizes the opportunity to wrap him in coils.

From above, a large piece of earth comes hurling down over them. Yonji gasps in surprise as he uses his other hand to raise a clenched fist, smashing the rock into pieces.

Law and Niji burst through from the other side. The doctor swipes his blade across Yonji’s chest but the green commander dodges out of his way, letting go of the captured swordsman in the process. Niji follows up by flinging himself off Law's back to land directly on top of Yonji, pinning him to the ground. With a wild scream, Niji uses what's left of his energy to deliver a powerful surge of electricity throughout his body, shocking his brother to keep him stunned on the ground.

Niji

This is for being an asshole!

Yonji

Fuck…off!!!

Zoro pushes himself up with a huff and stares dumbfoundedly at the two siblings. Law runs to him and quickly sutures his wound close with his powers.

Law

Zoro-ya, leave us with Yonji! You need to catch Doflamingo and Mr. Prince-ya!

Zoro

That's–? What happened to Niji? What's he doing here?

Law

There's no time to explain!

Law flicks his wrists to enlarge his room to reach Doflamingo's ship in an attempt to teleport Sanji back. Before it can go further out to the White Sea, Yonji aims for the back of the doctor's head with difficulty and forces one of his hands to extend long cables. It shoots out, powered by Niji's electrical shock. Distracted, Law's room dissipates as he swipes the winch out of his way with his sword.

Law

Zoro-ya, just go!!! I'll keep trying to help from here!

Zoro

Thanks!

Zoro runs to the tallest protruding boulders he can find and launches off it.

Yonji retracts his winch and delivers another set of cables towards Law once more. Niji forces his brother's head into the ground in an attempt to keep him pinned but the green commander's elongated fingers wrap around the doctor's body, sending a surge of high voltage that stuns Law.

Seeing that he'd failed, Niji stops his electrical ability. Law drops onto his knees as smoke emanates from his sizzling body. Yonji takes the opportunity to swing himself around, punching Niji off him with his elbow. The green commander retracts his winch then climbs over him to pin him down.

Yonji

I told you to leave this place as soon as you get the chance!!!

Niji

I won't leave him! And I can't leave you like this!

Yonji

Then you're dead.

Yonji begins punching his brother repeatedly across his face, beating him into a pulp.

Free from the coils, Law finally summons his room ability and uproots large burning trees out of the ground. He swings his arms forwards, sending them towards Yonji who takes the full brunt of the damage. He flies far into the cloudy sea with the trees on top of him.

Law

Commander!

Law runs to aid the bruised and bloodied Niji who lay weakly on the ground, gasping for air with a gurgle at the back of his throat. His face is bruised and swollen, and his nose cracked. He coughs out blood to clear his throat.

Law

Niji-ya, hang in there. Don't fight. Leave him to me.

With great difficulty, Niji replies as Law begins to nurse his open wounds close.

Niji

N–no. Stop. We can't take him alone. He's the strongest out of all of us and has no emotions. In his mind, he's got nothing to lose…. We need my big brother and sister.

Law

How?!

Niji coughs out more blood. Law lifts him up to elevate him so he sits against him for support, stabilising his breathing.

Niji

Gonna n–need you to kill me….

Law

What?!

From afar, they see large waves as Yonji launches himself in the air.

Niji

It'll send a distress signal… They'll be able to find us.

Law…you need to be quick. There isn't time. There's no other way.

As soon as Sanji and Doflamingo get past the Bird Cage, he will crush the entire place. No one will be able to survive it.

Law

I–I don't know….

They see a ball of green fly towards them from above.

With a shaky hand, Niji reaches out and grips Law's wrist to get his attention.

Niji

Promise that you'll bring me back?

Law

Tch. You Vinsmokes just like throwing your lives left right and center.

With a flick of his hand, a gelatinous cube comes out of Niji's chest, leaving behind a dark square hole behind it. The commander groans at the odd sensation. When he looks into the translucent shape, he sees his own heart contained inside it, beating weakly. Law catches it in his hand.

Niji 

That's ominous.

Law

Do you have any idea what you're in for?

Niji

…No. Just do it.

----------

Bonus: Static

[fountainpenguin]

Scott, Gem, and Martyn Secret Life Ep 1 commentary:

"Geez Scott, why are you so creepy?" / "Everyone needs a hobby <3"

Crying at Scott booking it across the grass to break up Scar and Jimmy as fast as humanly possible and they just start huffing and grumbling.

Scott after running into Pearl, Cleo, Jimmy, and Martyn - "I've bumped into every single one of my exes already..."

slkdjf Skizz apparently cut himself saying "I just wanna cause problems" out of his own POV but Scott got it all on tape

Skizz staying within 10 blocks of Gem is even funnier from Scott's POV because he needs Gem to hold his hand while he follows Scott around a corner... The delicate balancing act of obeying Scott's come hither but also pulling Gem along.

The dead silent push in on Scott's face when he notices Gem inching her base away from his and he's dreading starting his "obnoxiously attach your base to someone else's" task over.

Impulse: "Scott, is my cottagecore-ing okay? :)" / Scott, sweating his pretty little head off as he speed-builds so Gem doesn't catch him in the act, not even turning around: "Yep- looks great!"

Gem, emotionally trudging across the map with Skizz and Scott hanging off her.

I appreciate Gem's commentary of "How much room does this man NEED??"

Gem watching Scott un-merge their bases: "Oh, thank you" / Scott: "What do you mean by that. Why is that a relief to you."

---

Impulse and Gem going over the cliff is funnier with the context that Gem's task was to convince someone to "take a leap of faith while also ensuring they take no damage."

Mental image of Gem begging Impulse to take a flying jump into the water while Impulse is grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to force her into a cherry wood boat because it's cherry wood it's amazing Gem come on slkdjf

Gem: "How much more iron do you need for a chestplate?" / Impulse, taking a moment to pretend to count: "... 8 :)"

Gem, addressing the viewers: "And Skizz follows me around for an uncomfortable period of time."

In Scott's POV, he's just watching unhappily from the distance as Gem starts taking down her wall, but in Gem's POV she actually asked him if she can move her base over and he's just like "Yeah... Yeah, you can if you want to :')" slkdfj

Underappreciated irony in Scott being the one to make a big deal about how clingy Skizz is when he's literally fusing his base's roof with Gem's

It's spawn egg-topia!!

Scott: "I'm making the executive decision to separate our cottages." slkdjf Scott recovers from being possessed by the spirit of clinginess and wakes up like "What HAPPENED last night?? What is this garbage??"

---

Holy cow Martyn dropping from 30 hearts to 12 within like 20 minutes.

lksdjf Martyn: "Let's see if there's any response in the chat to my Cover Me With Diamonds achievement :)" / Gem, Scott, and Impulse immediately triple enchant / Martyn: "Oh :'D"

??? Custom zombie spawner? Neat

He started at 30 and went down to 5.5 hearts?? Geez, dude.

It's funny because in Double Life, I didn't notice Martyn taking that much damage compared to anyone else, but I feel like now I understand why Cleo was so irritated with him lskdjf

Martyn at the start of this episode: "Ew I don't want cherry wood" / Martyn trying to complete his secret task: "Where is all the cherry wood??"

Martyn speedbuilding in panic and quiet, then Joel cracks a joke and Martyn laughs and you hear Bdubs offscreen going "You got Martyn with that one" <3

sdfklsjdf I like how Martyn's idea of copying Lizzie's house involved rushing over to hers and destroying her bed to match the fact that his copied house did not have a bed

Wheezing at Impulse being just 2 steps from pushing the success button but Martyn starts trash-talking cherry wood and Impulse immediately goes "Take that back, take that back right now!" with this guttural snarl and starts stomping towards him because he wasn't cured from his cherry wood obsession yet... Beautiful.

[bekolxeram]

Long sigh......

I've heard that one of the most problematic bnf from the other side of the fandom claimed on Tiktok that Tommy wouldn't be part of the emergency landing rescue because "the controls (of a helicopter and a jet airliner) are different". I know I made a whole thing out of Tommy being a helicopter pilot instead of a fixed wing one. (I even made up a sunshiny airplane pilot ex boyfriend for Tommy, that was fun while it lasted) I have no idea how that bnf makes the logical leap that if Tommy isn't physically solo flying that plane, then he won't be involved at all. He's still a firefighter working with aircrafts at an airport. Unless the writers for some reason don't want Tommy to be in the episodes at all and pull the "not on duty" card, it would actually make less sense for him not to be there.

You know the drill. Don't read further if the discussion of Tommy not being able to fly everything bothers you. Block the tag #aviation realism if this whole topic doesn't interest you. I've hesitated a lot whether I should post my thoughts on this, but I guess this is the last chance to speculate, so here goes nothing. This is my specs for Tommy's involvement in the plane disaster.

First, I want to clarify something. I never said Tommy wasn't on the plane in 2x14. If by flying that plane, you mean actually taking the pilot seat, grabbing the yoke and executing risky low altitude maneuvers over mountainous terrain, no, I don't think Tommy can do it. The thing is, operating an aircraft that size requires a whole team, up to 5 in this case. I can totally imagine Tommy onboard sitting behind the pilots, helping out with navigation or precise drop coordination.

It's possible, even common to transition from flying rotary to fixed wing. JetBlue and Frontier both provide rotor transition programs to veterans, I've also seen a former Army Blackhawk pilot now flies the C-130 for the Coast Guard. Training ex-military pilots to become commercial airliner pilots has a higher success rate and takes less time than training a regular civilian. But you see the problem, none of them have been working as an active firefighter for the past 20 years.

Let's cut to the chase, I don't think Tommy will be landing that plane. In the original film, they decide transferring an Air Force pilot into the crippled 747 is the only option, because they think woman dumb Nancy can't handle it. Aviation technology has come a very long way since the 70s. This MythBusters episode from 2007 proves that not only is it possible for a complete novice to land a jet airliner by following verbal instructions, modern planes are so advanced that they can practically land themselves.

Sure, there probably will be some major damages to the systems needed for a normal landing (landing gear, flaps, brakes, thrust reversers) rendering an autoland impossible, because drama. But then you run into the problem of where the hell is the Air Force. Last season, the Coast Guard was busy rescuing other ships stranded at sea so some LAFD firefighters had to steal a helicopter to search for a cruise ship that didn't call for help. This time, a passenger airliner without its flight crew has a very real possibility of crashing in a densely populated urban area, the whole incident is also reported live on TV news, how can they explain the absence of the Air Force? Even assuming no commercial pilots in the area, including the ex-military ones are willing to do such a dangerous stunt and tether into the cockpit from outside, what's stopping the AIr Force pilots?

I don't think Tommy will be the one instructing Athena through the landing either. You run into basically the same problem. There are plenty of flight instructors of that exact model of aircraft out there better suited for the job. Flying a modern airliner, especially an Airbus, is more like flying a computer than an actual plane. You need someone with intimate knowledge of the plane's flight control systems in order to talk a non-pilot through operating it.

I know, I know, I'm being a killjoy right now, I'm worse than the Tommy haters and I should shut the fuck up, but even if we're going 100% realistic, referring to real life aviation incidents of this scale (Yes, I'm talking about JetBlue 292 again), Tommy is especially going to be part of the rescue.

Real!LAFD deployed a few helicopters in the JetBlue sideway nose gear incident to monitor the airfield and to help coordinate ground personnel/equipment, with a couple more standing by on the ground in case anyone on the plane needed emergency medevac.

I think the first officer might need a chopper ride if they want to save his femoral artery.

In the same incident, a local news copter also helped survey the landing gear issue from the outside. Tommy's helicopter can do that as well.

It's getting too long, but I have a few out-of-universe reasons for why Tommy will likely not play a super major part in this plane disaster arc, I'll just speed through them: Tommy's not a main character when screen time is already tight for the mains (I'd prefer to see him more in later Buck centric eps), he's already saved the day last season, I think production has blown all their budget on the airplane sets, the new trucks and the CGI bees already that they can't fit a helicopter in. (Let alone to replicate the original pilot transferal scene, it was a real stunt, they really got an AIr Force helicopter to dangle a stuntman in front of a flying 747. It was dangerous and hella expensive)

I actually hope Tommy would be working on the ground this time, I would kill to see him working with Buck and the 118, and not in the sky doing his own thing.

[bigticenergy1]

Positive Tourette’s interaction story 🩵⚡️☺️

(This happened a while back and I told the story on TikTok then.)

My mom was giving my a ride to the dispensary and my tics were really ramping up in the car. So much so, that we had to pull over so I could move from the front to back seats. It can be dangerous to ride in the front with super active tics and my TS has already done lots of damage to the inside of the car. My tics can increase when riding in the car because it can make me feel trapped and out of control of what’s happening.

My mom dropped me off at the dispensary and headed to a grocery store that was in the same strip mall. I figured once I was out of the car, I would calm down and I wasn’t too worried because I know the owner of the dispensary (Justin) and the staff and they know that I have Tourette’s.

I got out of the car and my mom drove away and it’s like my tics exploded. I started having a violent tic attack. Screaming and punching a cement support beam. Within a couple of minutes, I realized that, I had to get off the street or someone would likely call the police.

So, I got into the dispensary as fast I could and was like “I’m having a tic attack. Do you have a bathroom?” Anywhere private that wasn’t outside in front of people. Justin led me into their back room area where they have a couch. He was so incredibly sweet and stayed for a while to make sure I was okay. He ended up having to go back up to the front of the store so his wife came and sat with me. She brought me water and let me hit her pen and within 20 or so minutes, my tics had calmed down.

I thanked them prefusely and they reassured me that any time I needed to chill in the back, I was welcome. They still offer for me to wait in the back if I’m ticcing a lot and the shop is busy. Ever since that day, I’ve gotten a (secret) 40% discount which we joke is my “Tourette’s discount.”

——

A couple of weeks later, I smashed a cart of hash rosin trying to grab it during a tic attack. I texted Justin and told him what had happened (to ask if they had any more in stock) and he said “come on over. I got you.” So, I went back to the dispensary and he gave me a free cart, equipped with a DIY “Tourette’s-proof” bumper. He had cut a pen gripper into three rings and slid them onto the glass of the cartridge and it works! Now, every time I get a new cart, he takes the rings off of the old one and puts them on the new one for me.

Justin told me that he also made some modifications to a smoking rig to make it easier for someone with cerebral palsy to use. I told him he should make a line of accessible smoking devices! Lol

I dunno, in a shitty ableist world, I like to remember instances and people like this.

[obsessedwithitall]

It's Embarrassing (Eddie Munson x reader) (Part 2)

I woke up this morning with this in my head and have been trying to write it all day.

Everyone is in their 20s, Eddie and reader have been in a secret relationshipish for a few months. Angst.

Part 1 is here

***

“Hey, my car needs looking at please.”

It was you. Eddie was mad he hadn’t recognised your voice before he turned round. If he had, he wouldn't have turned around at all.

He wiped his hands on the towel on his shoulder and sighed to himself. “I'll get one of the guys to look at it.”

“Couldn't you look at it?”

“No.” he snapped quickly.

***

Eddie rapped his knuckles on the top of a car.

“What?” Paul, Eddie’s co-worker, spoke from underneath the car.

“There’s a girl who needs her car looking at.”

“Ok, well look at her car.”

He waited a second, sizing up his options. It was his job to fix cars but he really didn't want to speak to you. He cleared his throat, “Can you do it?”

“Munson, I'm a bit busy right now.” And Eddie knew he had no choice.

***

Eddie reappeared and moved towards your car.

“What's wrong with it?” He was going to look at it after all. Maybe there was a chance you could talk or maybe he just didn't have a choice.

“Erm, I don't know.”

“What? Is it making a weird noise? Does it smell bad?”

“I don't know.”

Eddie popped the hood and rummaged around. You just watched, all words catching in your throat.

“Did you drive here?” he huffed.

“Yeah.”

He stood tall and started walking away from you. Was that it?

“That's gonna be 100 dollars.”

“100 dollars?!” What did he mean 100 dollars?

“Yeah, its a really hard job.”

“What do you mean 100 dollars?” you followed him through the doors of the garage.

“Loads of hours work. Your car is totally fucked.”

You stopped and spluttered, “I think it might only be a spark plug.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks and turned to you, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, where’s the old one?”

He threw his dirty towel over his shoulder and took a few angry steps towards you. His voice dropped really quiet. “A car doesn’t drive with a spark plug missing, so what did you do with it?”

You take a step back and shook your head feigning ignorance but Eddie reaches forward into the front pocket of your jeans and pulled out what he was looking for. He held the spark plug up to your face.

“You shouldn't have done that.” He checked the spark plug for damage and replaced it, slamming the hood down again.

You ran after him as he walked away. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You blurted out.

“You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“I asked Wayne to tell you to call me but you didn’t.”

“I thought I embarrass you, don’t I?”

“I never said that.”

“And you had a ‘reputation’.”

“I’m sorry. Robin wouldn’t leave me alone about that hickey and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what we were. I thought...I don't know I just panicked.”

“Well you can panic with somebody else.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you. It wasn't you. I just-“

Eddie just looked at you. Eyes almost tearing up, mirroring yours. Maybe you should just be honest.

“Look, you’re hot and open with me and I don't know what to do or how to tell people and maybe I was a bit uncomfortable with other people thinking about me like that. And we hadn't really gone on any dates or anything and I was maybe a little bit worried that you only wanted to sleep with me. I’m sorry.”

He continued saying nothing.

“I shouldn’t have come. I'm sorry. I’ll pay you for the fixing my car.”

“Don’t.”

“Eddie, I wasted your time, I’ll give you somethi-“

“Go out with me.”

The words, once again, stuck in your throat and wouldn't escape. Did you even hear him right?

“Go on a date with me and we'll call it even.”

You heard him right. “Just one date?” You felt a bit disappointed.

“Well yeah, then hopefully some more after that. If you're not embarrassed by me?”

His arms wrapped around you as you flung yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs bending up behind you.

He put you down and kissed the end of your nose. “Now go away, I’m working. I’ll pick you up later.”

You laughed at his stupid smile and jumped back in your car, to get ready for tonight and to tell your friends. Ready to prove to him how not embarrassed of Eddie Munson you were.

***

Part 1 is here

Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading 💜💜💜

[I only watched the first 7 episodes of season one of Stranger Things so I'm sorry if it feels wrong. I will not be watching anymore]

[apompkwrites]

primordial attachment || freminet (ft. lyney and lynette)

masterlist characters: freminet, lyney, lynette (all platonic) genre: angst contains: spoilers for chapter iv - act i: "prelude of blancheur and noirceur", short fic compared to rest of mine ;-; , mentions of sickness/vomiting summary: the call of the ocean is much more sickening than you remember. notes: omg the rare pompk genshin writing. anyway, the siblings have captured my heart since they came out and I'm only slightly peeved i got zhongli on like 20 pulls to get freminet BUT-- might make this a series? thought of calling it "siblings of the hearth" but idk. ++finished this before i finished lyney's story quest and uhhh rainbow roses is all i have to say :]

you and freminet were practically inseparable. much like lyney and lynette, you and freminet made up the second duo in your adoptive family. the two of you were alike in many ways, from your introverted self-doubt to the love of fairytales.

the one thing that separated you two was your opinions on diving. as much as you wanted to love the ocean again, you couldn't bring yourself to. you cherished the sea when freminet first brought you there, pointing out to the endless blue water that sparkled under the sun. he took you by the end, a much more gentle touch than your mother had the day she dropped the two of you off, before diving down.

he held your hand the entire time the two of you swam, tightening when an angelic sea hare blew past you in the water or when a particularly strong current threatened to pull you two apart.

that day, you saw your brother's bright smile again. the last time you saw that was the day before your mother dropped you two off at the orphanage. and when freminet smiled, the brightest one you had seen in ages, you smiled back.

the next day, you learned you also had a strange affinity for the sea like your brother. the two of you knew the ocean like the back of your hands. and so, when you started feeling sick after every diving escapade, you got worried.

despite the worry, the bubbling in your stomach, and the nausea that filled your system, you told no one. you went on with your life, slowly pulling back from the water. pulling back from the diving days.

pulling back from freminet.

every time he came back from a dive, you felt sick. it had to be the water clinging onto his suit and thus, you often locked yourself away in the workshop knowing freminet wouldn't go in lest he damage the trinkets he was working on.

the first two weeks of avoidance were relatively easy. but on the dawn of the third week, you couldn't stand it. those teary eyes freminet stared at you with upon refusing another diving escape broke your heart, shattering it as if you and freminet had used your compatible visions to cast freeze on a small puddle of water.

"...okay," was all freminet whispered after your refusal, slinking off to grab his diving gear. the second that door closed behind him, you collapsed to your knees, tears streaming down your face as you silently cried.

"(name)? what's wrong?" and not even a minute passed before you heard lyney behind you. he rushed over and kneeled beside you, joined only a second later by lynette who kneeled on the other side.

lynette placed a hand delicately on your back while lyney took your hands in his, squeezing your cold hands with his warm palms.

"what happened? why are you crying?" lyney asked again, waiting patiently for your tears to cease.

"...nothing," you managed to hiccup, shaking your head. "just... it's nothing, i promise..."

and you knew that lie wouldn't pass. both lyney and lynette, despite being adopted, knew you as if you were their own blood relative. they cared deeply for you and freminet and nothing would escape their sharp eyes.

"...then, how about we have some tea and snacks?" lynette proposes, pulling you up to your feet.

"i think that's a wonderful idea," lyney chimes in, his eyes still lingering on you in worry. you merely nod in response, doing your best to wipe your tears away with your sleeve.

maybe it'd be best if you got to the bottom of your sickness...

in the early morning hours, before the sun even peeked over the horizon, you were up and at your old diving spot. one single smell of the sea made you sick to your stomach. it took every ounce of your strength not to vomit right then and there.

despite the sickness, you reached down towards the water. and the second your fingertips broke the surface--

"ow--!" you yelped in pain, the soft sound of sizzling emitting from your skin. you stared at your shaky hand, the very tips of your fingers turning to water.

drip

drip

drip

three droplets of water fell from your fingertip, landing on the pier with a sound that roared in your ears.

in the end, the people will all be dissolved into the waters, and only the hydro archon will remain...

"the prophecy..." those words escaped your lips without a second thought. you scrambled away from the dock, staring wide-eyed out at the never-ending sea.

and all you could think of was the moment your body would join it.

[passionwillow]

Truce?

Hello my loves. ❤️ Here with another request. ☺️ This is set during season 2, when Street was kicked off 20-David. You're the one to take his place and he isn't happy with it. I felt this would end up better as a head canon outline.

Warnings: None! Platonic relationship.

When you got pulled onto the 20-David team, you couldn't have been happier.

You knew it was only temporary, but any opportunity to work with that team was a notch in your belt for experience.

Hondo and Deacon welcomed you with open arms, Luca and Tan making you feel right at home. Chris was eager to stick by your side in any mission.

The first day you rolled out with them was a hit on a warehouse where drugs were being stashed. You were pleasantly surprised at how in sync you moved with the team, and as you guys walked back through HQ, talking and chatting excitedly about the mission, Street was watching from the armory. And brooding.

"Man, the way you knocked that guy out? Completely badass!" Luca was talking and motioning excitedly as you walked with them, laughing and nudging him with your elbow. Deacon gave you a pat on the shoulder as he walked past you and headed to the locker room and you couldn't stop the grin that spread over your face.

The team's happiness with you, their praise, boiled Street's blood.

He wan't going to go out of his way to confront you, but when you went to the armory to grab supplies for your next outing, he made it know he wasn't happy with you.

"You know, for what you guys are doing, you want this one." He motioned to a different mount for your gun, and the degrading tone of his voice made you irritated.

You don't know how long you stood there arguing with him, but it wasn't until Tan came to grab you that you stormed off.

This wasn't your first rodeo, you were already in S.W.A.T on 40-David, but Street seemed under the impression you were taking his spot. And was going to make you pay.

The following weeks were a blur of working with Hondo's team, picking up any and all tips and tricks you could gather, and bonding with your new partners.

And anytime you were inside the armory ended in an argument.

Street wouldn't stop antagonizing you, making sure you knew how much more information he had about 20-David, how the crew worked, and it got under your skin.

"Street, Hondo told me exactly what we needed!" "Yeah, well, I guess you don't know as much as you thought because it's wrong!"

Commander Hicks was so irritated with the both of you he had to call you into his office and tell you both to just shut the hell up.

You were only trying to gain experience and enjoy your time on one of the elite teams, and Street was ready to ruin it all.

But before anymore damage could be done, Street learned something about you he wasn't aware of.

You were sitting in the armory one day, savoring the quiet and lack of people around, arguing with your mom over the phone.

Your parents were sick, both of them, and trying to fit caring for them and helping them in your schedule was rough.

You were arguing with your mom about her appointments, trying to help her while working your own schedule, and it wasn't going well.

"Mom, I told you, I can rearrange- or take off work-.. I get it, I know, I just wanna help you and dad!"

Street hadn't planned on coming in today to volunteer, but he knew the more he showed up looked better.

He was on his way in when he heard your voice, the worry and anger giving him pause.

He didn't want to eaves drop or listen in, but when he got a glimpse into your life, into what you were going through, he felt guilty as hell.

You hung up with your mom and sat with your head in your hands, catching you breath and trying to stifle the panic and worry in your chest.

The footsteps pulled you from your rest and you instantly went on edge when you saw Street, gearing for another knock out drag out argument.

"I'm not here to fight, okay?" It was almost like he could read your mind, his hands raised in submission. "I just.. Heard the conversation. Everything okay with your parents?"

His concern, the gentle tone in his voice, relaxed you. And next thing you knew you were telling him about your problems, the sick parents and worry over their health.

He listened so quietly, so attentively, you were surprised at the civil conversation you just had with him.

You sat in silence with him after your venting, and you broke the silence first after a while. "I never wanted to take your place, you know.. And I never will. I'm going back to 40-David in a few weeks."

Street looked at you and cracked a shy smile, nodding and looking down at his hands. "I know. I knew, deep down, I just.. Miss them. A lot."

It was your turn to listen now, letting him vent about his fears and mistakes. Your turn to offer comforting words.

From there on out you and Street remained friends, and when he made his way back to 20-David, you still found time to hang out and remain in touch.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Whirlmaw

CR 8

Neutral Medium Aberration

Inner Sea Bestiary, pg. 60

Despite their appearance these bizarre predators aren't scourges of the seas, but the skies, specifically the skies over open deserts where pockets of hot air allow them to glide for hours at a time without expending much energy. Whirlmaws gently coast through the heated air as their multitudes of crystalline eyes survey the land below, their Keen Sight potent to the point it's nearly supernatural, tracking even the smallest of potential morsels roaming the open sands from upwards to a mile away without penalty... though they rarely ever attack anything like common desert rodents. No, Whirlmaws hunt much larger prey, divebombing everything from halflings to desert giants in an attempt to sate their appetites.

The corkscrew-like flight pattern of a Whirlmaw allows it a degree of aerial maneuverability (manifested by having both Hover and Wingover) that lets them easily prey on other flying creatures when the mood strikes, but they're at their most dangerous (and infuriating) when attacking ground-bound victims. They have a fly speed of 90ft and perfect maneuverability despite their odd anatomy, and possess the rarely-seen Flying Charge ability, granting them a +4 bonus to attack rolls when charging a target from the air, bringing them all the way up to an almost-certain hit in the form of a +20 to their attack roll (it's +16 normally!).

As one may surmise, a Whirlmaw's primary (and only) means of damaging someone is their hell-demon lamprey-leech mouth. A single bite from this horrible orifice (horrifice?) inflicts a deceptively tame 2d6+9 damage... but then it latches on. And it begins to spin. This Burrowing Bite pulverizes flesh, blood, and muscle at a pace that can be accurately described as "nightmarish," inflicting an additional 4d6+12 damage every round the Whirlmaw remains attached to its victim, and note I say additional; that means anyone bitten and Grabbed by the Whirlmaw takes 6d6+21 damage every round until they either die or break the grapple somehow. In case you thought Paizo was going to have mercy, don't expect any, because this damage happens as a free action every time it succeeds a grapple check before it makes its actual bite attack for the round.

Whirlmaws natively have a +15 to grapple checks, but Burrowing Bite grants them an additional +4 to the first grapple check they make after biting a creature, making it difficult to dodge the initial attempt and difficult to dislodge once it's on. Confounding matters even further is the Whirlmaws Dust Cloud, an ability that lets it kick up a concealing cloud of sand whenever it hovers near enough to the ground... like when it's got someone in its grapple and wrenches them into the air. The image of one of these horrors dive-bombing your party and burrowing into their torsos is bad enough, but they are technically allowed to then pull victims into the sky with them, something they can take advantage of via a combination of Flyby Attack and their Burrowing Bite's free grapple. Even if the victim DOES break free, they're taking some additional fall damage AND opening themselves up to being Flying Charge'd next round.

Though their maneuverability in the sky is almost unrivaled, Whirlmaw are much less impressive if grounded in some way, such as if they get grappled or entangled. They can scooch across the ground at only 10ft a round, but they're more likely to escape such an unfavorable situation by simply burrowing into the sand. Their corkscrew body doesn't lend itself to elegance underground, but they can still burrow 10ft a round, more than enough to get them out of any fight they don't want to be a part of... or set up for an ambush, since they have 30ft of tremorsense. Or, y'know, if they just want to sleep for the night.

Whirlmaws aren't especially complex monsters, existing largely as living jumpscares or sudden encounters a DM can drop upon a party at any time they're out in the open and looking particularly delicious and full of organs. They rely on their startling damage, ability to launch a terrifying surprise attack, and grappling gimmick, and go down easily once the party recovers from the initial shock, as their only real defense is their high saves (+8/+10/+8!). The TRUE danger lays in higher-level adventures, where groups of as many as 7 may descend at once, or when the party is specifically sent out to hunt them down for their valuable eyes.

The one immunity that Whirlmaw possess is a complete immunity to Fire, and it's a well-known fact about them and the reason they're highly desired by those who wish to travel through the harsh deserts. The key to their immunity lays in their crystalline eyes, which serve as the key ingredients in or the perfect focus for magical items which convey resistance or immunity to heat and Fire. The ocular gemstones are worth a whopping 300 gold each, and since Whirlmaw have four clusters of three eyes, that means each one felled churns out a tidy profit of 3,600 gold!

Sounds good, right? Well, you'll have to ask yourself this: will it still sound good when one of them slams into your camel from above at 30mph and devours its intestines in a terrible, bloody display? Sure, you may have killed the thing... but now you have to walk back to civilization on your own, and there are still much, much worse things waiting out there in and below the sands...

You can read more about them here.

[lilliths-not-just-httyd-blog]

Fuck it. Earthquake Drill/PSA time.

If you see this post, AND:

A: You are in a setting in which it is socially acceptable for you to do so without reason, i.e. you are alone in private (pretty much the only acceptable setting actually XD)

B: You are capable of doing so without causing yourself pain, discomfort, ailment or inconvenience due to a disability, injury etc.

Drop, Cover and Hold

Move no more than a few steps - the fewer, the better. Move away from any tall objects like bookshelves or TVs which could hypothetically fall on you.

Immediately drop to the floor, onto your knees. This controlled fall will prevent you from being knocked to the ground by an actual earthquake and gives you more control over your movements as well as faster reaction time. You want to avoid being knocked down by an earthquake where at all possible.

If there is a sturdy desk near you, crawl and get under it. If not, stay where you are, so long as it is a safe place.

Cover the back of your head and neck with your hands and form the turtle position, like you'd do in a tornado or if a nuclear bomb went off.

If you are under a sturdy table, keep your neck covered with one hand and use the other to hold onto one of the legs of the table if you can. This is a critical in an actual earthquake, as in a strong earthquake the table will most likely move (esp if it has wheels on it). You have to be prepared to move with your table when it does so. If it is jolted to the left by shaking, you crawl to the left with it.

If you are NOT under a sturdy table, keep turtle-ing.

Stay in this position for 20-30 seconds if you are practicing, or until you are sure that the shaking has stopped in a real earthquake. Check that your surroundings are safe before standing up again and for the love of fuck be careful not to hit your head on the table on the way out.

If there's just been an actual earthquake, turn on the radio for further instruction. If you're just practicing, find out what station you should tune into in the event of an actual emergency. If your area doesn't utilise the radio as a means of post-disaster instruction, what the fuck??

Congrats! You just practiced what you should do in an earthquake. These steps should come to you automatically, you should know them by heart and be able to immediately leap into action when the ground starts to shake. If you don't, practice every now and then until you're do.

ALTERNATIVE STEPS:

If you have a disability, you should have your own set of personalised earthquake safety steps that you can take. These steps will be unique to you and your needs.

If you are driving, slow down, pull over and stop until the shaking stops. Stay in your car. After the shaking has stopped, you need to assess your own situation. How bad was that earthquake? Is it safe to continue driving? Are the roads damaged? Will emergency services need the roads to be clear? Before an earthquake hits, you should think about what you'd do in these types of situations.

If you're in bed, use your pillow as a shield for your head and your blankets to shield your body from flying glass, etc.

If you're on the beach, Drop, Cover and Hold until the shaking stops and then fucking run (DO NOT PANIC) as tsunami may be imminent. If the earthquake was light, you should be fine as the risk of tsunami is low, but get out of there anyway just in case. If the shaking made it hard to stand up or lasted longer than twenty seconds, get the fuck out of there as fast as you can because those are tsunami conditions, motherfucker. You need to reach high ground or be as far inland as possible. If you can reach high ground (at least 75-100 meters above sea level) within five minutes of running/walking, then go on foot. If there will be traffic congestion, go on foot. Only go in your car if it will get you to higher ground faster than running would AND if it will not cause congestion (e.g. your beach is in an area with a low population). Unsure? Go on foot. Do not enter alleyways or narrow streets unless it is absolutely critical to your survival and you can exit them again with haste. Best to stick to wide-open areas such as paddocks, fields and wide streets.

Your school, workplace and other facilities that you use will have their own specialised earthquake safety protocols. Follow the instructions of the authority figures in these settings. If you are in a supermarket or a similar retail setting, leave your trolley behind when you evacuate the building, I beg of you. You'd be surprised how many people (boomers) will throw hissy fits at having to leave their groceries behind in events such as fire drills and building evacuations. Please don't be one of these people.

Assess other setting you may be in and determine what you would do if an earthquake hits. As I live in earthquake-prone New Zealand, I've made it a habit of mine to assess the settings and locations that I frequent and determine the best course of action.

DO NOT:

Run outside. Running outside in an earthquake is your cheat code to immediate death. Falling signage, building facades, chimneys, scaffolding and other hazards could, and do kill people. Stay where you are. If you are walking outside a shop with a facade above the street and an earthquake hits, step away from the facade immediately.

Panic. Earthquakes are not the end of the world, they're just the ground having a bit of a rave. If you can react calmly and efficiently to take the appropriate steps, you'll be fine.

Seek shelter in your doorway UNLESS you are absolutely certain that it really is safer than the rest of the structure of your house. In all likelyhood, your doorway will be no safer than the rest of your house, and then there's the combined hazard of swinging doors to worry about as well. You'll probably be safer to just Drop, Cover and Hold. It really does depend on your house, and this is something that you will need to assess for yourself.

Go anywhere near fallen, exposed or otherwise sketchy powerlines, or just powerlines in general. Treat all wires as live at all times, even if there's a power outage.

Go near the beach shortly after an earthquake. Wait until you've received an all-clear from your local authorities before going near the beach.

Light candles. If your house uses gas for a stove, heating, etc, do not light candles, matches, lighters or anything which can produce a spark or open flame. Turn off the gas at the mains after any strong earthquake. You won't know if there's a gas leak in some instances. Best to get out of your house if a gas leak seems likely, or if you start to suffer the side effects of gas inhalation. And if you smell gas, turn it off at the mains if you can and/or get the fuck out. Only light candles when it's absolutely necessary (ALWAYS DEFAULT TO TORCHES/FLASHLIGHTS AND HEADLAMPS) AND only if you live in a house like mine where there is no gas usage, AND only if you are capable of extinguishing the candles at a moments notice. Best to only use tealights or candles with sturdy bases, and never leave a candle out of arms reach (never leave a candle unattended, earthquake or not). In general, avoid needing to use candles at all: have enough spare batteries for your torches to last until power can be turned on again (could be days or weeks).

Walk in floodwater, drink floodwater, drive in floodwater, etc. After an earthquake, you may experience flooding from ruptured water pipes, etc. I will be frank: This water may contain shit and piss in it. Also glass, metal, other harmful chemicals, a bunch of stuff. You can't see through floodwater due to its murky properties. There could be gators in there and you wouldn't know it. Don't touch it.

Open your fridge or freezer door. Food in there can keep for hours when the power goes out, so long as you keep the doors shut.

Go barefoot after a strong earthquake or if there's glass/debris etc. Find shoes, put the shoes on. Wear the shoes.

Also many other 'don't do's' but this post is getting too long so please go read up on these yourselves. What you should and shouldn't do depends on where you live. Go research it for yourself, it may save your life. Also put together both an emergency kit and an evacuation kit: you'll find plenty of guides online for how to construct these.

Earthquake safety is fucking important, and you should know how to react in an earthquake even if you are not living in an earthquake prone area - you never know when you're gonna be caught out, as fault lines can often remain completely unknown and invisible until they strike. I've met immigrants who have come to New Zealand from non-earthquakey countries and haven't known what to do (babe how do you come to the shaky isles and not know what to do if the ground starts to shake omg). Plate tectonics, volcanoes, explosions, meteor atmospheric entries (lol shockwaves), mine bumps, shitty ground infrastructure etc can all cause minor to severe earthquakes (or similar shaking effects). If nothing else, keep in mind Drop, Cover and Hold. That shit's lifesaving.

And yes I have a hyperfixation on these things, don't judge me. Kid-me grew up during/post Canterbury Earthquake Sequence, no wonder my ADHD ass started obsessing over these things.

[v-i-r-i-d-i-a-n]

Jrwi “21 Ton Salute” episode 90 reaction/quotes WHOOPPEEEE

Kira;”I’m gonna have to arrest you now :((“

Chip;”hot mode”

PRICE STOP BEING HERE PLS

Charlie;”Pull out game crazyyyy”

Chip;”Phew! Not a ghost, just a dickhead.”

Jay;”I see Gillion taking these hits without any armor, cus he doesn’t know how to dodge.”

Kira;”JAYYYY, please don’t make this difficult I don’t wanna hurt you :(((“ *rolls a natural 20*

Gillion;”This is the helm I put on, when I’m gonna cut off your fucking hands.”

Gillion;”Left right Left right- Eany, Meany, Miny FUCK YOU.”

Charlie;”So 64 dmg with these two attacks :))”

Grizzly;”what the fuck bro.”

Gillion;”I had some nightmares myself recently, and the crazy part was, you weren’t in them!”

Charlie;”I GUESS I FALL DOWN LIKE PETER FROM FAMILY GUY”

Kira;”Jay are you in there.?? I don’t really want to- damage this business, so could you come out?” I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

Bizly;”I come back in like a pouting child, my two swords dragging behind me”

Grizzly;”Now it’s your turn Gillion what do you do?”

Charlie;”I pull out the anchor.” *Eyes turns white*

ITS RUDE TO TALK WITH YOUR MOUTB FULL?? GILLION TIDESTRIDER THE FISH YOU ARE

Charlie;”There’s nothing in the sky around us right?”

Bizly;”Just the moon”

Gillion;”MUMMY HELP.”

Gillion;”I wanna grab onto him, and say “NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE”

Bizly *giggling*;”you’re a fucking nutcase bro”

Your Kuba Kenta, 300 FT in the air, a fish in your mouth, he pulls out an anchor and says “10000 pounds.” You start falling. HE MAKES THE ANCHOR WEIGH **MORE**, (80000 POUNDS) HE BEGINS TO SCREAM “NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE.” As you both plummet, wyd?

Grizzly;”the crazy thing is he was just gonna drop you”

Gillion;”YEAH BUT THAT WOULD HURT :((“

Grizzly;”You could have broken ribs, a horrible scar”

Charlie;”aghhh a horrible scar sounds super cool tho”

Condi;”Oh my gooooddd.”

Chip;”If it’s water I can jump in it’s like Minecraft.”

Jay;”BRO I HAVE CURE WOUNDS”

Chip:”WHAT ABOUT WHAT I HAVE?? I GOTTA DISGUISE THING. I MAKE MYSELF LOOK LIKE A FUNNY LITTLE CLOWN AND I DANCE AROUND”

Chip to Jay;”Prisoner prisoner prisoner prisoner of war prisoner prisoner prisoner.”

Chip;”If we have Kuba Kenta we have leverage”

Jay;”No we don’t- THIS IS THE LEVERAGE THIS IS THE LEVERAGE THIS IS WHAT WE USE THE LEVERAGE FOR.”

Chip;”Trauma bump :DD”

Chip;”I’m not the only one taken’ care of me anymore. They take care of me, and I gotta take care of them too.” CHIP CHIP CHIP CHIP. BIZLY. SHUT YO MOUTH. SHUSHSHUTUP

Gillion;”I didn’t know you had gills, that makes things a lot easier”

Jay;”Yeah, they hurt a lot when I put them in”

Gillion;”..when you what? 😟”