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abbotjack · 3 months ago

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Don't Make Me Someone You Can't Have

pairing : dr. jack abbot x resident!reader (afab!reader)

summary : The fallout didn’t start the day of Pitt Fest—it started when you told Jack Abbot how you felt and he told you he didn’t want you. A week later, grief, jealousy, and everything unsaid ignite into something impossible to bury. (Lowkey inspired by Big Love by Fleetwood Mac—because obviously.)

warnings/content : trauma aftermath (mass casualty event), hospital setting, attending x resident dynamic, mutual pining, emotional repression, angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, verbal rejection, explicit sexual content (f!receiving, protected sex), semi-public/backseat sex, emotionally loaded dialogue, swearing

word count : 4,212

18+ ONLY, not beta read. Please read responsibly.

a/n : I am just so obsessed with Abbot, like oml I do not need a new hyperfixation at this point of the semester but here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this!

There’s blood on your forearms.

Not a lot—just the dried trace of a life you couldn’t save, stuck to your skin even after the first scrub. You’ve already changed out of your soiled gloves and gown. You sanitized twice. But still, you scrub again, because your hands won’t stop shaking and focusing on the motion keeps you upright.

The shooting at Pitt Fest has left the trauma bay soaked with the sound of screams you can’t forget. The floors were slick. Supplies ran out faster than anyone could track. You can still hear the rhythmic buzz of the trauma pager, the overhead call for more gurneys, the shrill monitor that never quieted until it did.

Your white coat is somewhere in the hallway—discarded and stained, a casualty of triage. There’s a bruise blossoming on your cheekbone, just beneath your eye. It’s from when the mother of the boy thrashed in panic, her elbow colliding with your face. You didn’t notice it at first, not until someone pointed it out with a grimace. Said it was turning purple, already swelling. Said you should ice it. You didn’t.

You press harder on your hands.

Jack Abbot hasn’t spoken to you since he snapped orders across the gurney three hours ago, voice razor-sharp, eyes like flint. He’d taken over compressions without blinking. His personal protection gear streaked in blood. His shoulders set like stone. His voice—steady, calm, cold.

You’d hesitated.

Just a second. Maybe less. But he’d seen it.

“You’re too shallow—switch out. Now.”

He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Just stepped in, hands already moving, chest compressing with the precision of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. Because he has.

He moves like he did on the field. You’ve heard stories—Jack the soldier, desert heat in his lungs, fingers suturing flesh with a kind of brutal grace. You’ve seen glimpses of it before, but tonight? Tonight, it wasn’t a glimpse. It was a full transformation.

You backed away, stunned into silence. Not because he took over. But because of how he did it. Like you were a liability. Like you didn’t belong.

You told yourself it was adrenaline. It wasn’t.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s him.

You keep your eyes on the mirror—don’t move, don’t breathe—until his reflection comes into focus beside yours.

His eyes go straight to your cheek.

The bruise.

His posture changes. Shoulders tense, mouth tightening. He doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of something behind his eyes is unmistakable. Not surprise. Not guilt.

Anger. Not at you—but at the fact that you’re hurt.

He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter. His eyes flick to your cheekbone again. The bruise is deeper now, ugly in the fluorescent light.

“You paused,” he says finally, voice low.

You dry your hands slowly. The paper towel crinkles between your fingers.

You turn, sharp. “I froze because I’ve never had to treat a gunshot wound in a fifteen-year-old while their mother screamed in my ear.”

You don’t stop.

“She was grabbing my sleeves, pulling at my hands, sobbing and shouting his name—over and over. She kept trying to touch his face. I could barely see where the blood was coming from. I wasn’t even sure where to start.”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “That’s what the job is.”

You laugh, and it sounds like it’s clawing its way out of your chest. “Don’t lecture me on what the job is, Jack. I’ve been here three years. I know what this place does to people.”

His jaw tightens. There’s something in his eyes—anger, maybe. Or guilt. You can’t tell with him. You never can.

He pushes off the counter.

“You think I don’t know what it does to people?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when he steps closer, the air between you tight enough to snap.

“You think I wanted you in the bay?” he asks.

You blink. “What?”

Jack’s voice dips lower. “I saw your name on the call sheet. I almost pulled you off rotation.”

Your breath hitches. “You don’t get to do that.”

He’s close now—too close. He smells like hospital soap and something else beneath it—deep, expensive cologne that cuts through the sterile air. Teakwood. Mahogany. That warm, slightly spiced scent that always lingers a second too long after he leaves a room. Clean. Controlled. Intentionally chosen. Just like him.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart,” he says.

Your heart slams. The words hit harder than they should, because they’re the first ones he’s offered that sound like anything real. Not just protocol. Not just war-worn discipline.

“I already have,” you whisper. “And you didn’t notice. Not when I told you how I felt. Not when you shut me down like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”

He swallows hard. His posture stiffens.

“You didn’t even look at me after that,” you say, voice shaking. “I told you I had feelings for you, and you acted like I’d crossed some unspoken line. Like caring about you was a mistake I should be embarrassed by.”

Jack doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, eyes burning. “For you, it’s easier to pretend this thing—whatever it is between us—doesn’t exist than admit you’re scared of something real.”

You don’t have to spell it out. You’ve seen the way he distances himself—the way he locks things down before anyone even gets close. You’ve felt it.

The silence now is a living thing. Loud. Brutal. The air is laced with too many unsaid things.

You can feel it—beneath the calm, beneath the scrub shirt and military precision—Jack is burning.

But he still doesn’t reach for you.

So you do what you always do.

You leave before he can stop you.

You don’t get far.

The trauma bay doors hiss shut behind you and the night air hits your face like a slap—cool, sharp, soaked in hospital exhaust and rain-soaked concrete. You pace once. Twice. You don’t cry.

You breathe. You think you might scream. Instead, you lean back against the cold exterior wall of the hospital and close your eyes. And there it is—the echo of his voice, thick with something too raw to name.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

But it wasn’t just tonight that gutted you. It started before. When you said too much and he gave you nothing.

It was three days ago. Late enough that the hospital had gone quiet—the kind of quiet where your thoughts get too loud, and nothing feels safe to admit.

You were both at the nurses’ station. Jack sat at one of the desktops, the screen glowing pale blue in front of him, his fingers motionless on the trackpad. You were across from him, one hand hovering over the keyboard, the other absently toying with a pen.

You’d been circling it for weeks—maybe longer. This thing between you. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the quiet, in the unspoken, in the almosts. In the way your skin prickled when he entered a room. The way air shifted when he stood behind you—close, but never touching.

It was in the way his gaze found you during rounds, lingering just a heartbeat too long. The way his voice dipped when he said your name, soft and unreadable—like a secret slipping between his teeth. The way your breath caught when he brushed past you in the hallway, the fabric of his scrubs grazing yours, sending a bolt of something electric down your spine.

It was professional. It had to be. But it never felt neutral.

Every look felt like contact. Every silence, a dare.

The tension wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It sat just under the surface—constant, quiet, undeniable. Like gravity. Like something pulling you toward him whether you wanted it or not.

But it wasn’t just you.

Jack watched you, too. Carefully. Deliberately. Like he was trying not to want you and failing anyway. He always looked away too slowly. Cleared his throat when your laugh caught him off guard. Said your name differently than everyone else—lower, rougher, like he was holding it in his mouth too long.

There were moments you caught him looking at you like he was already sorry for it.

Like he knew what it would cost if he gave in.

There were nights you couldn’t sleep without replaying the way his hand brushed yours, or the heat of his body behind you in the elevator, or the flicker of something in his eyes before he shut it down again.

You weren’t supposed to notice.

He wasn’t supposed to let you.

But you did.

And he did.

And both of you kept pretending it wasn’t real—even as it took up more and more space inside your chest.

You hadn’t planned to say anything. You hadn’t rehearsed it. It just… happened.

“I care about you,” you’d said, voice soft but steady. “I’m not trying to ruin anything. I just need you to know.”

Jack didn’t look up. Not at first. He just sat there, shoulders stiff, jaw set like someone had flipped a switch inside him. When he did meet your eyes, it wasn’t with warmth. It was with something colder. Sharper. Like he was bracing for impact.

“This can’t happen,” he’d said. Quiet. Controlled. Like he was reciting a rule he’d memorized a long time ago. “You’re a resident. I’m your attending. You know that.”

You’d nodded, tried to smile, tried to make it easy for him. Tried to act like it didn’t sting.

But he kept going.

“And even if you weren’t… it’s not a good idea.”

He hesitated. Just a second. But enough.

"You don’t know me," he added, eyes hard. "You think you do, but you don’t. You see what I let you see. And that version of me—that's not real."

And then, like he needed to twist the knife just to make sure it stuck :

“Whatever you think this is—I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

You knew, even as he said it—he didn’t mean it. Not like that. But he wanted it to hurt. Needed it to. Like if he made you hate him, it would make walking away easier. That was the part that stayed with you.

You hadn’t cried then. Not in front of him. You nodded again, eyes dry, throat burning, and told him you understood. But you hadn’t said anything else. Didn’t argue. Didn’t ask him why.

And he hadn’t offered.

Not an apology. Not an explanation.

He hadn’t said a single word to you since—not until today, when his voice finally cut through the chaos to order you off the boy’s chest. Cold. Clinical. Like nothing had ever passed between you at all. Like you were just another resident.

But you’d felt it. In the way he walked into a room and wouldn’t look at you. In the way his voice would hitch when you brushed past. In the way his fists curled tight at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but refused to let himself.

He was trying to be cold. Trying to keep the line drawn.

And still—still—he’d almost pulled you from trauma rotation tonight.

You open your eyes. The ache in your chest feels ancient. Familiar.

Big love. That’s what it was. The kind that never had a chance to grow, but still bloomed under your skin like it owned you.

And Jack? Jack let it die before it ever had the chance to live.

It’s been a week since Pitt Fest.

The hospital has started to settle into something like normal, but you haven’t. You still flinch when a trauma page comes over the comms. Still hear that mother’s voice, shrill and ragged. Still feel the ghost of Jack’s hand brushing yours when he took over compressions. That wasn’t the moment you broke, but it was the moment you knew you couldn’t pretend anymore.

So tonight, you go out. Against your better judgment.

Whitaker begged you. Santos threatened to show up at your apartment with a bottle of tequila. King and Mohan promised only one drink, just one, come on, you need it. Javadi was supposed to come too, but she bailed last minute—something about studying for boards and not wanting to get caught at another bar underage.

So now it’s the five of you crammed into a booth at this dive bar near the hospital in downtown Pittsburgh, the one with sticky floors and pool tables missing half the balls. The music is too loud, but the company is easy. Whitaker is doing some elaborate retelling of a patient who tried to fake a heart attack to get out of paying his copay. Mohan is crying from laughter. You’re sipping something sweet and strong and trying to let it all melt away.

It’s working.

Until you see him.

Jack.

He’s across the bar, half-shadowed under the neon sign, nursing a beer like he doesn’t want to be seen. But he’s not alone.

Robby’s with him. Of course he is.

They’re leaned in close, not talking much. Just sitting. Watching.

No—he’s watching.

You.

Your drink stills halfway to your mouth. Your stomach twists, not violently, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Jack doesn’t look away. Not immediately. Just holds your gaze like it hurts him. Like it should.

You force yourself to blink, to laugh at something Whitaker says. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking. You pretend you don’t feel your entire body tuning itself to the sound of his silence.

He rejected you. You know that.

But the way he’s looking at you now? It doesn’t feel like rejection.

It feels like longing.

And maybe that’s worse.

You down the rest of your drink in one go. It burns less than it should.

There’s a man at the bar. Mid-forties, maybe older. Salt-and-pepper beard. Expensive watch. He catches your glance and offers a smile that’s a little too polished, a little too practiced—but you return it anyway. Because he’s older. Because he’s sharp-eyed. Because he reminds you, in all the wrong ways, of someone else.

You excuse yourself from the table before anyone can stop you.

You take your drink, your heels, and your broken pride, and you slide onto the stool next to him.

Jack sees. Of course he does.

You make sure he does.

“Can I buy you another?” the man asks, nodding to your empty glass.

You smile. “Yeah. Why not?”

You laugh too easily. Let your shoulder brush his as he leans in. He says something you don’t hear because your pulse is thundering in your ears.

Across the bar, Jack’s jaw is tight. His hand clenches around his beer bottle, the label peeling beneath his thumb.

You tilt your head back and laugh again—this time louder, brighter, crueler.

Because if you’re going to hurt, you want him to feel it too.

And he does.

You can see it in the way he breaks eye contact first.

You can see it in the way Robby says something and Jack doesn’t respond.

You can see it in the way he stands up a minute later, like he can’t stand to watch anymore.

But he doesn’t leave.

He moves.

Across the bar. Slow, deliberate. Controlled rage in every step.

Robby calls after him, eyebrows lifted, confused—but Jack doesn’t answer.

He stops a foot away from you, the stranger mid-sentence, and you feel it before you even look up—heat rolling off of him like a storm about to break.

“Can I talk to you?” Jack says. Voice low. Measured. Barely held together.

You arch an eyebrow, take a long sip of your drink. “Busy.”

The man beside you glances between the two of you, sensing something sharp in the air. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Jack’s eyes are locked on yours. Not the stranger’s. Not anyone else’s.

“You need to come with me,” he says, lower now. “Now.”

And it’s not a command. It’s not even a plea. It’s desperation wrapped in control, fraying at the edges.

You consider refusing. You want to.

But you rise anyway.

And follow him out the door.

The air outside is colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just him.

Jack doesn’t speak right away. He walks fast—toward the lot behind the bar, where his car is parked beneath a crooked streetlamp. When he finally stops, it’s with his back to you. One hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. The kind of stillness that comes right before something breaks.

You follow, heart hammering. He turns.

“What the hell was that?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His eyes flash. “The guy. The flirting. You were trying to—”

“Trying to what?” you snap. “Move on? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Jack exhales, sharp and uneven. “You don’t get it.”

“No, Jack. I really don’t. You said this couldn’t happen. You told me to forget it, forget you. And then you stare at me like that? Like you’ve got any right to be angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he bites out. “I’m—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence stretches. You can hear the distant music from inside, laughter spilling through the front entrance. But here? It’s just you and him, and everything you haven’t said.

“I didn’t want to do that to you,” he says finally, voice frayed. “Push you away. I just… I didn’t know how else to make it stop.”

Your voice lowers. “Why would you want it to stop?”

He steps forward once. Close, but not touching. His hands stay at his sides like he’s afraid of what will happen if he reaches for you.

“Because it scares the shit out of me,” Jack says. “Because you matter more than you should. And because I don’t trust myself not to fuck that up.”

Your heart twists. “So instead you say things to make me hate you?”

“I thought if you hated me, it would be easier for both of us.”

You laugh—soft, bitter. “It’s not.”

His voice breaks. “I know.”

You look at him. Really look at him. There’s pain there—old and festering. The kind that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with whatever he’s been dragging behind him since the war, since before.

You take a breath. “So what now?”

Jack steps even closer. You can feel the heat of him again. His eyes drop to your mouth, then snap back up like he’s furious with himself for even looking.

“You came out here,” you say.

“I didn’t want to watch someone else touch you,” he admits.

“Then don’t make me someone you can’t have.”

There’s a beat.

And then he’s kissing you.

Rough. Desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for years and it’s finally breaking loose. You answer it without hesitation, fisting your hands in his shirt, dragging him down like you’re daring him to finally stop pretending.

He presses you back against the car, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His mouth is on yours—hungry, ragged—like if he slows down, this will disappear.

“Back seat,” he growls. His voice scrapes through your chest.

He opens the rear door behind you, hand never leaving your hip, guiding you with him. You climb in first, crawling across the backseat with your heart in your throat. By the time you turn, he’s already sliding in after you, pulling the door shut behind him with a solid, final thud.

He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you again, harder this time, like his life depends on it. You climb into his lap, straddling him now, knees on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed close and flushed with heat. He shoves your coat off your shoulders, pushes your shirt up. You tug his top over his head and toss it somewhere in the car.

“God,” he mutters, eyes raking over you. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it.”

He does.

He unhooks your bra with one hand—like muscle memory—his mouth already on your chest, teeth and tongue working in tandem. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you close as your hips grind down into his.

You’re panting. He’s shaking.

You reach between you, working open his belt, and feel him throb beneath the fabric. Jack shudders when your hand slips inside, groaning low into your skin.

“Wallet,” he mutters against your neck, voice breathless. “Inside pocket.”

You grab it. Your fingers move fast, practiced by adrenaline. You find the condom tucked there, tear it open, and hand it to him. His eyes meet yours as he rolls it on—slow, deliberate. Controlled, even now.

You brace yourself on his shoulders and lower down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s seated fully inside you.

The stretch burns in the best way. You gasp. He swears.

You don’t move. Not yet.

He kisses your jaw, your collarbone. Holds your hips steady with both hands like he’s savoring the feel of you. And when you start to move—hips rolling slow and deep—he leans his head back and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven,” he breathes.

You ride him hard, your rhythm building, mouths colliding again and again between moans. His grip bruises your thighs as he thrusts up to meet every movement, his control slipping with every second you stay on top of him.

Then suddenly—he shifts.

His arms wrap under your thighs, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he lifts you.

You gasp as he turns, guiding you onto your back across the seat. He stays inside you the whole time, never letting go, until your back hits the cool leather and he’s towering over you, braced between your legs.

“You okay?” he asks, breath ragged.

You nod, already whining for more.

Then he starts to move again—deep, relentless, rocking the car with every thrust.

He shifts, bracing one hand beneath your thigh to push your leg higher, opening you up to take him deeper. The angle hits something devastating—you cry out, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

Jack leans down, mouth hot at your neck, breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice cracked and raw. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, Jack.”

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip for leverage—then slips between your bodies. His fingers find your clit and start to circle, firm and focused, his pace never faltering.

It sends you over the edge.

You break apart beneath him—back arching, thighs trembling, his name ripped from your mouth like a prayer you didn’t know you were saying.

You’re still shaking when he comes—groaning into your shoulder, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep one last time and lets go.

Afterward, you don’t speak right away.

You’re tangled together. His chest is against yours. His arms still hold you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. Your heartbeat stutters beneath his palm. The windows are fogged, the car soaked in heat and the weight of everything that just happened.

You stroke a hand through the back of his hair, calming him more than you.

Finally, he shifts, settling beside you, your body still half-curled on top of him.

And quietly, you say:

“I followed you out because I thought you were going to leave again.”

He freezes.

You feel his breath catch against your shoulder.

“You left once,” you say. “After I told you how I felt. You didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Just made it clear I’d imagined all of it. And tonight? I thought you were about to do it again.”

His voice is tight when he finally speaks.

“I almost did.”

You nod slowly. “Why didn’t you?”

Jack exhales hard. “Because I saw you with him, and I knew—if I walked away again, I wouldn’t just lose you. I’d be choosing to.”

He turns your face toward him.

“And I couldn’t live with that.”

You search his expression. His hand brushes a strand of hair from your face, and then settles on your cheek.

“I tried to kill it,” he says. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. But it is. And it’s too big to ignore.”

“Big love,” you whisper.

He nods. “Yeah. The kind that burns everything else down.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I waited. Through all of it—every time you pretended you didn’t feel this, too.”

His eyes close. Like the truth hurts more than anything else tonight.

“I don’t know how to want you without wanting all of it,” he admits.

And you don’t need him to explain what all of it means.

The chaos. The risk. The weight.

You nod. “Good. Because I don’t want halfway.”

He leans in—presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, soft now. Careful.

And finally—finally—he says, “Then I won’t run anymore.”

You believe him.

But only because Big Love doesn’t let you run.

It lives. Loud. Messy. Permanent.

And tonight, in the heat of a parked car, Jack finally lets it have him.

#i got too carried away #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #shawn hatosy #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader #jack abbott #the pitt 2025 #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #smut #angst

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noohyah · 1 year ago

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Troubleshooting The F14d3 Engine: Solutions For Common Problems!

The F14d3 engine is one of the most popular and reliable engines in the market. It is used in various models of cars, trucks, and buses. However, like any other engine, it can also face some common problems that can affect its performance and efficiency. In this article, we will discuss some of the most common problems that the F14d3 engine can encounter, and how to troubleshoot them…

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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Brave Little Boy: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @oklahomapeach

Summary: Robby wakes up to the baby kicking and gets a a suprise.

Companion piece to:

Lipstick (NSFW) - It's love at first blow job for Dr Robby.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn't sleep when you're not around.

Bunny - Robby discovers you've been keeping secrets.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby's neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Poolside - When Robby's had a really shitty day he always ends up whereever you are.

The Betting Pool - Robby discovers that his collegues have been taking bets on his relationship.

Fifty Shades of Robby - Robby's collegues see the truth of his relationship when they find your Instagram.

Dumb Bitch - Robby exhibits his protective side when another man steps on his territory.

Stop Compressions, Start Compressions - Robby loses everything in the aftermath of Pittfest.

24 Hours - Robby refuses to leave your side in the aftermath of the shooting.

Saftey Rail - Abbot gets real with Robby when he finds him on the roof.

Baby, It's Gonna Be Alright - Robby wonders if he's fucked things up with you for good.

Exorcism (NSFW) - Robby and you finally find a way to be honest with one another.

Ready - Robby and you discuss starting a family in the aftermath of Pittfest.

The Rose - You give Robby a special gift for your anniversary.

Heartbeat - Robby finds something to help him sleep.

Jinx - Robby discovers a particular superstition of yours.

The Scary One - Robby and you face concerns during your second pregnancy scan.

Pop Tarts - You and Robby decorate the baby's nursery.

Robby wakes up to the baby kicking, sharp little digs that lance into ribs stirring him from sleep. You’re nestled into him, baby bump pressed into his side, your arm thrown over his chest and your face buried into the curve of his throat.

He places his palm on the bump, hoping to sooth his little one but the kicks become more insistent as if he’s trying to connect with his daddy. Robby finds himself smiling despite the fact it’s three am because his son, he’s not letting that hole in his heart get him down, he just keeps getting stronger.

“You are being a very brave little boy.” Robby tells him, his thumb tracing over the space where the baby’s repeatedly jabbing you.

“He’s being a little asshole.” You mumble against Robby’s skin and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest as you shift against him. “I’m gonna get up, see if I can’t walk to him sleep.”

The thing about babies, they’re usually more active at night. Throughout the day, the sensation of mom’s movements usually lulls them to sleep. It’s when you lay down to rest that they take it as an invitation to get the party started.

“You want me to come with?” He asks propping his head up on the pillow as you manage to get yourself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “We can even put on ER so you can watch Carter as you pace in front of the couch.”

You have a thing for his doppleganger, Robby fucking hates it but you are literally carry his baby right now so the least he can do is stay up and watch the man who looks like a younger version of him’s antics.

“No, you’ve got a shift tomorrow, you try and get some-” You pause and Robby frowns as you look down at the growing stain on your navy blue pyjama bottoms. “Great he danced on my bladder and I just peed myself.”

“No sweetheart, I don’t think you did.” Robby says, throwing back the covers, his heart thundering in his chest. “I think your waters just broke.”

Love Robby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

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#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robby robinavitch #noah wyle #robby #robby x reader #the pitt fanfiction

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teenidlegirl · 2 months ago

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⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀freaky with nerd!miguel in the bus⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀18+⠀﹚

college field trips are interesting.

a simple field trip for one of your classes. sure, it was nice to go somewhere and be out of your dorm but what you really liked was riding the bus with your cute nerdy boyfriend miguel.

poor thing can barely fit in the seat since they are a bit cramped and the man is literally made of pure muscle and is 6’9. you feel bad for him but try to cheer him up throughout the ride. babble about whatever gossip you have while playing with his big ass hands, tracing your fingers among his calloused palms, knowing it was giving him goosebumps. play with his hair, fingers twirling a soft brown curl. wear his thick black rimmed glasses sometimes and mimic him by acting nerdy, making him roll his eyes from embarrassment. take a few cute selfies, make goofy faces that will forever be saved on your phone and possibly a new lockscreen. cuddle with him, his strong muscular arms wrapped around you as your head lays on his broad chest, relishing your time together.

the field trip was pretty quick honestly. you and miguel are surprised to be the first ones done and to come back. the bus is entirely empty, including the driver. with his hand in yours, you lure miguel to the back of the bus and sit in furthest seat.

“that was so quick. were we too fast?” you ask with furrowed brows, resting your legs in his lap.

“no, people are too slow.” one of his hands caress your calf, sending shivers down your spine. his touch always ignites your body. you can’t help it, his hands are just so… big and veiny.

“or maybe my boyfriend is way too smart and was able to get through everything quick.” you tease by slightly tugging on the collar of his shirt. god, you love him in black.

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes as he feels slight heat in his cheeks. “cállete…” your praising never fails to have an effect on him, sends a shiver down his spine. a pleasant shiver.

a smug smirk graces your lips as your fingers lightly trace his jawline. “mi miguelito… so smart… and strong… qué guapo…”

you can’t help but salivate over your handsome nerdy boyfriend. how fucking sexy he looks in that tight black shirt. the outlines of his muscles are so prominent. so damn tight it’s almost a compression shirt. how the sleeves make his biceps bulge so deliciously that you wanna bite and squeeze them. those fucking gray sweatpants miguel knows you love because you can see the imprint of his dick. the motherfucker knew what he was doing by wearing them today for this field trip. miguel knows it drives you crazy. not to mention a little sneak peek of his happy trail.

yep, you’re ovulating.

the throbbing of your clit and the fucking pool in your panties are evidence. like mentioned before, you can’t help it that your boyfriend is the most handsome man ever. the heat radiating inside you was killing you because all you want is to pounce on him and make him take you right then and there.

miguel, on the other hand, is practically the same. that nickname you call him makes him weak. especially in that sweet, seductive voice that makes his cock twitch shamelessly in his sweats. despite being a fucking giant, he crumbles onto his knees for you.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable and you couldn’t take it anymore. you need him, you need him so fucking bad. so, fuck it. you swiftly straddle yourself in his lap, cup his cheeks, and smash your lips on his. miguel lets out a muffed groan of surprise but ultimately goes under your spell and reciprocates. those calloused hands instinctively grabbing your waist as his lips meet yours in a desperate kiss. hands roaming each other’s bodies. your fingers digging into those soft chocolate locks, earning a heavenly groan from him. you can feel his erection pressed against your clothed pussy and instinctively grind on it, earning another groan.

“w-wait- we shouldn’t-” miguel mutters in between kisses, brows furrowed. “s-someone could walk in.”

“we finished super early.” you kiss his worries away. “besides, people are too slow.” you recite his own words with a smirk.

miguel groans at that. he is worried someone could walk in on you both. the last thing he wants is getting caught for having sex in the back of the bus but seeing how needy you are for him makes him throw all that shit out the window. he can never resist you.

the makeout session grows more intensely hot. both your cores throbbing with want and desperation.

“i need you, miguel…”

his cock twitches at your neediness. “joder…”

you’re the death of him.

luckily and shockingly, miguel carried a condom in his pocket and you yank it out from it. the motherfucker was carrying it this whole time? oh the sneaky little shit. don’t worry, he’s about to lose all his brain cells in a second. miguel tears it open while your hands eagerly wip out his cock from the confinements of his sweats and slip on the condom over his thick length as his hands lifts the hem of your skirt and slide your panties to the side.

a shared moan mingles in the air as you slowly sink down his cock. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always gets you. once you bottom out and have a few moments of adjustment, you start bouncing on him. unable to resist the desperation any longer. ovulation was really bad this time.

a symphony of moans fall from you lips as miguel’s cock pounds into your tight gushing pussy. the bulbous tip repeatedly kissing your cervix so perfectly. you can feel him in your womb. the little bulge in your belly was enough proof. his large hands guide your hips up and down his thick length as you grip onto his bulky shoulders for dear life and tip your head back.

“oh miguel~”

“i know, bebita…” he moans when you clench around him, causing his head to throw back and tighten his grip on your hips.

each clench of your tight pussy and those pretty sounds of yours drive miguel fucking crazy. pounding into that sweet tightness like there’s no tomorrow just hear more of those cute sounds, knowing he is the cause of them. it makes his mind go haywire.

the bus is filled with nasty ass sounds. skin slapping, the gushing of your wet pussy getting pounded by miguel’s cock, your pretty moans and his heavenly groans.

miguel’s cock continues plowing into you as you lean back against the seat behind you. gripping onto the edge and arching your spine, offering your tits to his hungry gaze. letting out a moan when miguel’s hands leave your hips to grope your tits through your top. playing and squeezing the squishy mounds in his calloused palms as he pounds into your tight heat.

“s-so fucking tight.”

“miguel~ ah, ah, right there~” your back aches when his tip hits that sweet spot inside so perfectly.

bringing down one hand from your tit, he places it on your lower abdomen. feeling the tiny bump through your clothes as his cock pumps into you before lightly pressing down on it, earning a gasp from you which makes him chuckle.

“there, bebita?~” a smirk forms on his lips as he moves his hand in small circles, chuckling at the way your body squirms and the cute whines falling from your lips. “so sensitive- fuck-”

his attention returns to your jiggling tits and leans forward to bury his face in your cleavage. instinctively, your fingers dig into those soft brown locks while moaning at the overwhelming pleasure miguel is providing with his cock and mouth. his lips leaving wet kisses on your soft skin before sliding his tongue among the round surface of your breasts. groaning when you tighten your grip on his hair. that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen develops and approaches quickly with each thrust of his cock. with a few more pumps and flicks to your clit, you both finally come. you gushing around him and miguel spurting his thick seed into the condom. a little disappointed he didn’t come inside you like you wanted but protection comes first.

with his hands, miguel guides you back to lay on his chest as you both recover from your highs. heavy breathing echoing in the small portion of the bus. his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms as comfort. softly humming at the sensation. after recovering from mind-blowing bus sex, miguel carefully lifts you off his softened cock and removes the used the condom.

“throw it out.”

miguel looks at you with wide confused eyes. “outside? estas loca? people are gonna see it!”

“would you rather let them see it in here?” you arch a brow.

his expression falls flat, grumbling before lowering down the window and tossing the gross ass used rubber outside.

“if people see it, it’s your fault.” he scowls.

you shrug nonchalantly while adjusting his glasses that were about to fall off his handsome face. “oh well.”

thankfully, the rest of the class returns. peter and mj, your closest friends and another couple, join you and miguel in the back sitting in the seat across from you guys. although you and miguel had some recovery time, they notice your still slightly flustered faces.

“you guys okay?” peter asks concerningly.

“yep, just hot from the bright ass sun.” you lie but play it off effortlessly. it was actually hot though.

“oh yeah. literally the worst day to go on a field trip. why the hell would they do that?” peter starts complaining and mj joins in, indulging in their own conversation.

while on the ride back to campus, you and miguel are cuddling in silence until he decides to speak.

“you were ovulating, weren’t you?” he whispers.

you let out a snort. “yep, couldn’t help it, especially with your handsome nerdy ass but i always want you.”

he scoffs, holding you tighter. “loca.”

“honestly, we could’ve made a baby if we didn’t use a condom.”

“oh por dios- can we get our degrees first?”

even though he fucked your brains out, mainly his own, you love making him shy with your unhinged demeanor.

just love your cute nerdy boyfriend.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months ago

Text

Off The Beaten Path.

Part One

Summary: Nivea Douglas takes Terry Richmond into her home after he saves her. Terry doesn’t want to be a burden, but Nivea insists.

Author’s Note: back with another story for Terry! This one will be short chapters. It’s just easier to write. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Obession, Smut, Primal Kink.

Silently, he prowled through the forest, crushing grass and twigs alike beneath his unsteady stride. His unseeing eyes flicked across the trees that passed in a blurry mix of greens and browns, searching mindlessly for his next victim.

He was only sixteen.

The evening sun had already started to set, casting the quiet forest in a haze of blood red hues. The forest was dead silent. His heavy steps were enough warning to send its usual inhabitants scurrying away to their hiding places. Even birds dared not to frequent the sky above his path, well aware of what consequences would await them. Instead, the forest remained hushed, as if every living thing was watching with bated breath as he trudged a path through the rich amber oak trees that shifted lightly in the crisp evening breeze.

He welcomed the numbing sensation in his sore, aching limbs when the crisp, winter air had grown colder and stronger.

Though he refused to look, he knew that bruises already painted the majority of his wretched flesh. Most of the pain had faded to haunting memories, however, his most recent mark still burned. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he continued on his path. One leg moved after the other in a steady rhythm. What little control he had left was slowly removed as the curse flowed through his bloodstream, igniting the beast.

There was nothing he could do now but watch the creature inside of him surface, taking full control to do it’s bidding.

Suddenly, he heard something.

A light, airy laugh rang out throughout the clearing. It was a jarring sound, bright, beautiful, and full of life, unlike anything he’d ever heard. Momentarily, he could feel himself surface, gaining control to savor the enchanting sound. However, the moment came and passed in a breath and the beast came forward, regaining control of his body and forcing him back to become a prisoner in his mind once more…

———

Present Day:

Nivea could almost taste victory as she sprinted along a winding dirt path towards the finish line. Her bohemian locs swept up into a ponytail oscillated across her upper back and the forest green GymShark matching set she wore felt more compressed from the amount of sweat that seeped from her pores. Heart pounding, ragged breaths unheard because of her AirPods, Nivea charged ahead, ignoring the burning in her glutes and thighs.

Beyoncé– America Has A Problem pounded her eardrums pleasantly. Her pink and green HOKA running shoes cushioned her size eight feet from the gravel and twigs. Running along Moon Seed Loop was an early morning ritual for Nivea. She’d been doing it faithfully since moving into her new Victorian style home with a wrap around porch.

Acadiana Park is a jewel in Upper Lafayette. It’s a beautiful place to wander with your kids, family and friends. An afternoon along the trails is more than just exciting—it’s an easy way to work in some exercise and learn a thing or two about the Park’s rich, natural landscape. Expect to see countless varieties of trees, fish and birds along the trails and beautiful waterways.

Nivea was hired as the sole Veterinarian for a pet clinic not too far from her home after moving to Louisiana from Phoenix, Arizona. She started out at The University of Arizona and after graduating she moved to the UK to study abroad and later received her doctorate. It granted her opportunities to spend time in Australia, South Africa, The Caribbean, and New Zealand. She’s in her early forties now, never been married, dated here and there, only having one long term relationship with a guy she knew from high school.

To be daring is to be bold, adventurous, and a little nervy. It’s a quality possessed by people who tend to take risks. Nivea had an audacious approach to life. Leaping off cliffs, skydiving, mountain climbing, swimming with sharks, even the little things like getting a tattoo or racing a motorcycle and even crowd surfing. Reckless and venturesome. Athletic and beautiful. She’d gotten those qualities from her late father. He was a veteran haunted by memories of the war.

Her mother, a free–spirited woman born in Trinidad and raised in New York, took a chance and moved to Phoenix where she’d met Nivea’s father who at the time still served in The Military. Nivea didn’t stay in one place for too long, a military brat who embraced a new scenery. Like her mother, Nivea didn’t have a problem with change. She embraced it.

Just like she embraced the burning in her lungs and the way her muscles ached. At the end of her run, Nivea slowed down and began smiling in victory. She placed her hands on her hips to catch her breath before pausing her music. Cracking her neck, Nivea perched her back against an old oak tree to settle her nerves before making the trip back to her car.

She licked her full, bottom lip, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. The sheen along her honeyed-skin gave her a glow similar to gold. The sun's rays tickled her melanin skin as she pushed her toned legs to the end of the forest and toward her parked vehicle. She dusted her edges with her fingers, reminding herself that she was in need of a hair appointment since it had been some months since her last one.

Her Toyota 4Runner in a desert sand color came to life with a click of a button on her key fob. Beyoncé’s mezzo–soprano voice could be heard from the speakers since her Bluetooth had connected. Nivea removed her fanny pack and opened her driver’s side door, flinging it in the passenger seat before taking a generous swig of water from her navy–blue Yeti cup. Keys in the ignition, Nivea didn’t waste time driving off, leaving her tire tracks and dirt dust behind.

_________

Sitting in his pitch black Dually, a sudden early fall rain showering it, his iridescent eyes were unwavering and intense beyond the boldness of his thick lashes as he watched his new obsession sprint through the forest. Like clockwork every morning, he waited to see her, an overwhelming sensation growing within his chest cavity so strong. Large, calloused hands grip his steering wheel firmly and his nostrils flare.

The first time he saw her, his heart fell. The second time he saw her, his heart fell. The third time, fourth time, fifth time, and every time since, his heart had fallen. He stared at her, and each time a sudden, overwhelming, and involuntary feeling of deep connection and devotion would consume him. It was immediate and intense. She’d thrown a wrench into his routine. Couturie Forest was one of the few areas he could escape and not feel as if he’d run into trouble.

She is the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, her body that she worked so hard on, the way she walked, the way she smiled and laughed and the way her cheeks dropped when she’s mad or upset. The way she dragged her feet when she was tired after a long shift. Every single thing about her is beautiful.

He stared at her, tracking her with his eyes, taking in every detail even from the distance between them. When he sees her the world stops. It stops and all that exists for him is her and his eyes staring at her. There’s nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The world just stops and it is a beautiful place and there is only her. Just her, and his eyes never leaving her.

He stared. He traced with his eyes that flicker between a kaleidoscope of colors, sparkling with longing and his stomach tightening because of the powerful, almost gravitational pull that feels inescapable. She’d trapped him and he hadn’t even smelled her yet. Licked her. Traced his fingers along her skin. Filled her.

When she’s gone, the world starts again, and he doesn't like it as much. He can live in it, but he doesn't like it. He’d just walk around in it and wait to see her again and wait for it to stop again. He loved when it stopped. It’s the best fucking thing he’d ever known or ever felt, the best thing, and that, beautiful woman is why he can’t ever just leave.

A part of him wished he knew how to quit her. The strong sense of loyalty and dedication to her made it nearly impossible. Quite frankly, it is impossible. Once it happens…it happens. This wasn’t fate. Fated mates are predetermined or destined partners. No…this was sudden. Sparked immediately. An unbreakable connection that awakened his protective instincts. It was so instantaneous. He’s far from that. He needed to be in control at all times.

Turning the key in the ignition, his truck rumbled to life and suddenly his tires began to move him beyond the damp soil and onto the roadway. Jaw clenched, the sun began to peek out, his eyes appearing to have golden flecks in a sea of green. He tapped the brake pedal with his boot–covered foot until her 4Runner came into view. As soon as it came into view, his heart fell again. He waited and then he was off, trailing behind her.

The ride lasted twenty minutes and he found himself staring at her beautiful body swaying up the steps and toward her front door. He stroked his bottom lip with his thumb, staring at the home. He couldn’t get too close because she had surveillance. It wouldn’t look good showing up uninvited. He had to settle for watching her. Hoping that he would introduce himself to her. It’s been a long two weeks.

_________

Nivea took off her shoes within the foyer of her home. Her Great Dane with its square jaw and imposing size galloped up to her and stood on its hind legs to greet her. Nivea giggled at her dog, rubbing it before walking away. Before taking a much needed shower, Nivea made a quick stop into her uniquely decorated kitchen with its vintage appliances and greenery. She opened her Big Chill Retro Fridge in a canary-yellow color and grabbed a pitcher of filtered water.

Nivea proceeded to pour the water into a tea kettle on the front left burner of her 1950’s vintage oven. Flames ignited the pot and Nivea took that time to prepare her ceramic mug with some organic lavender tea. She scooped some tea herbs from a mason jar into the mug and retrieved her tea spoon. Coco, Nivea’s large yet gentile dog, followed her towards the kitchen table, earning a few scratches behind her ears.

Staring out of the large window overlooking her garden, Nivea thought about her date that evening. She’d agreed to go to dinner with a man named Ian who’s German shepherd she’d taken care of. Nivea was wary about Ian for a while, because he’s recently divorced. The man was persistent in asking her out, even when his legal troubles were ongoing. That charming smile and carob skin distracted her and she couldn’t help but smile whenever he’d come in with his dog. Ian with his salt and pepper locs, well–muscled frame, and charisma.

The whistle of the kettle had Nivea standing from her seat. She turned off the stove top and poured the water into her mug. Nivea allowed it to steep for five minutes before taking a small sip of the hot tea, shutting her eyes as the immediate calming and therapeutic effects wash over her. With her tea, Nivea left her kitchen and made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. On the second floor landing, she paused to sip her tea again.

What was she going to wear? A dress? Jeans and a cute blouse? Heels? Flats? The sound of the shower beyond the master bathroom filled her spacious bedroom as she combed through racks of clothes within her narrow walk–in closet. Multiple dresses were left discarded as she tossed them to the side. She still had hours to go before her date, but the thought of entering the dating scene again sparked her anxiety tremendously.

While nervousness is expected when meeting a new person, dating anxiety is more intense and long lasting. Nivea’s long term relationship caused her emotional and physical pain. Her ex fiance had been controlling and manipulative for years, one of the reasons why she’d left Arizona behind. While he moved on as if nothing happened, Nivea lived in fear of meeting someone new.

Nivea settled on a ruffled halter mini dress in red with a black moto jacket and distressed black heeled boots. She pinned her locs up and undressed herself, tossing her dirty athletic attire into her bin. She entered her bathroom and stepped into the shower. Nivea took her time cleansing, exfoliating, and moisturizing. Back in her room, she slipped on a thin, graphic T-shirt and loose sleep shorts with fuzzy socks. Locs in a messy bun, Nivea left her room with her mug in hand to enter her office for a bit of light reading.

Entering her office, she opened her window to allow a breeze in. The smell of rain and grass filled her nose as she curled up on her reading chair. Opening her smut book to where she left off, Nivea pursed her full lips to fight the urge to smile. She couldn’t wait to finish where she’d left off. Meanwhile, the black truck out front hadn’t made an effort to leave.

___________

“Table for two, please.”

The cool evening air transitioned into toasty coziness as they entered a semi–crowded Steak House. Pleasant, savory smells and the clatter of utensils against plates teased their senses. Nivea clung onto Ian’s bicep as her eyes swept over the restaurant in anticipation. The hostess, a pleasant Asian girl with long, shiny black hair and a pointy face, gathered two menus before leading them away from the booth and towards a table shrouded in a low ambiance.

“Thank you…”

Ian worked to pull out Nivea’s chair. She smiled at him with her ruby-red lips. Ian pushed her in closer before taking his place across from her. They locked eyes for a brief moment before staring down at the menus before them.

“I know I’ve said it before, but…you look beautiful.”

Nivea smiled, “Thank you, Ian. You look very handsome.”

Ian wore a black Lacoste polo shirt and khaki pants with black dress shoes. He had a fresh retwist, locs falling over his broad shoulders.

“Did you work today?” Ian asked.

Their waiter made his way over, a tall, white male with sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes that reminded Nivea of the Pacific Ocean. His name is Ben. Ben filled their water glasses and vowed to return shortly to take their orders.

“I had an off day. Went for my morning run in the forest and spent the remaining day inside. Something I cherish when I can since my schedule is full most of the time. You?”

“Detective work never dies. Working this case that’s taking a toll on me…”

Ian released a stressful sigh.

“…do you want to talk about it?” Nivea questioned cautiously.

“Nah. I don’t want to unsettle what’s supposed to be a romantic evening,” Ian smiled faintly, “Tell me a little more about you, Nivea. What does a Veterinarian do for fun?”

Nivea chuckled, “I make the most of life. I love to travel, I’m an adrenaline junkie…yes, yes. While I do love a good time, I have my moments where being alone with my Coco is enough. Reading, meditating, gardening…I do a little bit of everything.”

“Kickboxing? Let’s not forget that.” Ian mentioned with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, how can I overlook that,” Nivea replied sarcastically, “Didn’t mean to startle you with my high kick.”

“That leg is lethal,” Ian laughs, “I mean, seriously. We could use you on our team.”

Nivea giggled behind her hand, “How would I be of use to you? What would a kick do to take down an armed killer?”

“You’d be surprised.” Ian quipped.

“Sure,” Nivea’s dimpled smile increased, “Tell me about the case.”

“Eager, are you?”

“Let’s just say…I’m a true crime lover. It fascinates me.”

Ben made his way back over. Ian ordered a bottle of red wine and oysters.

“This case isn’t for the faint hearted, Nivea.”

“My heart isn’t a home for cowardice,” Nivea replied.

Ian looked upon her with a deep stare that seemed intrigued and surprised by her words. Nivea simply smiled, one brow arched.

“Okay. I’m sure you’ve heard about the missing hikers from Monroe?”

“I have. The two couples…”

“Yeah…well…they’ve been found. And…all four are dead. Bodies mutilated and buried beneath a slashed tent on Palmetto Island Campground.”

“Goodness…mutilated?”

“Disfigured. Large slash marks and bludgeoned.”

“You don’t think an animal had something to do with it?”

Ian shook his head, “We’ve looked into that. There’s no way. Their wallets and other personal belongings are missing as well. Someone did this. No eye witnesses.”

“Jesus,” Nivea accepted her filled glass of wine from Ben, “Any signs of a struggle? Defensive wounds?”

“Yes. You could tell they tried to escape. Two bodies were found away from the campsite. They received the worst possible attacks.”

“Scary…”

Ian nodded his head in agreement, “Shaken up?”

Nivea glanced over at him with a tiny hint of a smile, “A little. Maybe I should be careful running alone in the forest while a killer is at large in Lafayette.”

“Maybe you should run on a treadmill for a while instead.”

Nivea giggled.

“I’m serious, Nivea.” Ian said.

“I’ll be fine, Ian. I run along the Moon Seed Loop trail.”

“What difference does it make? You’d be better off in a gym.”

Nivea shifted in her seat. Ian sensed her unease.

“Sorry. I just…I want you to be safe.”

“I appreciate it. Really. I know it’s in your nature to worry. But I’ll be fine.”

Ian took a sip of his wine. Their oysters arrived and Nivea ordered red snapper.

“Fish at a steakhouse?” Ian teases.

“I’m pescatarian.”

“Oh–I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay. I used to love red meat at one point. That was ten years ago.”

“Next time, I’ll take you to my favorite seafood place.” Ian vowed.

Nivea smirked beautifully, “Next time?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to do whatever it takes to win your heart.” Ian confessed.

“Woah there, tiger,” Nivea said, “Still have to get through date number one.”

“I have a lot of work to do then.”

“Damn right,” Nivea replied.

“It’s worth it. You’re worth the trouble.” Ian said.

“Good trouble.” Nivea replied with a tilt of her glass.

They shared a look. One filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Why Lafayette? Phoenix is a great city.” Ian asked.

“Got tired of the desert.”

Ian laughs, “Seriously. Why the sudden change?”

Nivea shrugged a single shoulder, “I wanted a fresh start. My love life was at its end. They offered me a hefty salary here. I’ve always loved Louisiana. Didn’t see why not.”

“Ex boyfriend?”

“Ex fiancée,” Nivea dramatically enunciated.

“Oh? You were engaged?”

“To a narcissist. One of which scarred me for life. One I kept going back to even after he’d proven to me time and time again I meant nothing to him.”

Nivea drank some of her wine to conceal the tightness in her throat. So long ago yet so fresh.

“I’m sorry, Nivea. I know what it’s like.”

Nivea cleared her throat, “Your ex wife?”

“Shannon. We built a life together. Had two children. She had an affair with her personal trainer. Threw away almost twenty years of marriage.”

Nivea didn’t know what to say. She’d been cheated on in the past, but in the same breath, she’d done the cheating herself. New dick to numb the pain. That ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ rump. She could recall how good it had felt to have another man make her cum on his dick and take his cum down her throat. Going back home to her ex fiance with the stench of another man on her.

“The divorce was amicable I guess?” Nivea asked after a long, awkward pause.

“It was. However, it left its mark on the kids. My daughter is taking it the hardest.”

“She’ll come around I’m sure.”

“I hope.” Ian responded in a solemn tone.

Nivea perked up, grabbed her glass of wine, and raised it.

“Let’s toast to new beginnings.”

Ian lifted his glass high and both of them clinked them. Ian watched Nivea down her wine in one sip. He chuckled into his glass.

“More?”

“Hell yeahhh! Whoops—”

Embarrassed by her outburst, Nivea giggled into her hands. Ian simply laughed.

“Sorry, I’m a bit of a wine–o.”

“No worries. I love when you let that side of you show.”

Nivea’s tawny–brown skin tinted beneath his gaze as she fought the urge to smile.

________

A Week Later:

Sitting in anticipation of seeing her again left him feeling anxious. It’s been too long since she’d entered his life without any real connection. He’d heard her voice through a window and as she was leaving work, but he hadn’t smelled her. Touched her. All of which he longed for. He occupied his usual parked spot hidden from view, dressed in a black T-shirt and Wrangler Jeans. One elbow propped up against the open window of his truck while his other hand gripped the steering wheel.

Checking the time, he should have expected to see her pass beyond the trees. However, an uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. She’d never missed a trail run. It was a part of her meticulous routine. Had she overslept? Did she decide to skip a run? Why would she alter her routine? Frustration and worry coursed through his body as he contemplated leaving his truck behind to search for her.

He kept a distance because he knew what it looked like stalking her. She’d be afraid, call the police, and he couldn’t have that. Not when he needed her so badly. Stroking his bottom lip with his thumb, his ever–changing eyes moved about, hoping to spot her. Minutes stretched on and so did his patience. His mind drifted to the worst possible scenario. One he was all too familiar with. Begrudgingly, he opened the door to his truck and climbed out. His heart hammered away behind his mended ribs as he walked along the gravel leading into the trees.

He made his way onto a trail, pausing his steps. Eyes searching from one end of the forest trail to the other, he allowed his sensitive sense of smell to pick up her scent. His keen eyes paid close attention to any disturbance in the forest before him. Trampled vegetation. Disturbed soil. As these can leave behind unique scent profiles.

He was far away from his truck now, the smell of lemon peel, oak moss, and mint burned his nose. A metallic smell made his muscles tighten and his tongue tingle. He picked up into a run, trailing off the beaten path, away from what her usual route would be. As he ventured into the wilderness, the metallic–like scent grew stronger, enough to make him lose sight of his destination. His footsteps paused a few feet away from a man-made ditch, and as his eyes peered into it, there, he’d found his latest obsession.

She was unconscious, filthy, and bleeding from a laceration on her head. He frantically jumped down into the ditch and scooped her into his arms. His nose crinkled as the smell of blood seeped in. He pressed two fingers against her neck, faintly making out a pulse. She’s alive. Relief washed over him. Standing, he cradled her limp body in his arms. He hoisted her up and onto the ground carefully before hopping out of the deep darkness of the ditch.

He couldn’t leave her there, she needed to go to the hospital immediately. As he made his way over to her, he caught a whiff of something unfamiliar. Something unwelcome. His eyes searched around him, fists tightly clenched. The trees lashed and crashed against each other like drumsticks in the hands of a giant. It was eerily quiet. He could sense something watching. A painful groan from her captured his ears and he immediately focused all of his attention on her.

She stirred on the ground, face frowned and her eyes moving beneath her closed lids. Terry held his breath as he crouched down to look at her. He placed one hand beneath her head for protection, his eyes staring down into her beautiful face. When she opened them slightly, his lips parted to speak.

Her soft locs in his calloused hands he adored. Her tawny skin was a work of art with her arms covered in tattoos. Lips plump and soft. She’s a goddess. Pools of brown peered up at his face with difficulty. She furrowed her brows, trying to make out who this stranger was as the sun above made him less distinguishable. She parted her lips to utter a few words, but it required energy she didn’t currently possess.

“It’s okay…you’re safe now. I’m gonna take you to the ER.” He spoke softly as her consciousness began to fade again, “Just hang in there…I got you.”

Her head lulled as he picked her up. Quickly and carefully, he made his way back to his truck. Once there, he flung his back door open and placed her on her side with her head reclined on a wrinkled flannel shirt of his. He slammed the door shut and rushed to the driver’s seat. Truck rolled to life and he took off with a quick burst of speed so fast he almost collided with a tree.

The nearest emergency room wasn’t too far of a drive. What would have been twenty minutes on back roads took him ten minutes or less on the I–10. As he drove, weaving his way through traffic, he would look back to check on her, making sure she was okay and not bleeding out. As his truck screeched to a stop in the visitor parking lot of the emergency room at Ochsner Lafayette General Medical Center, He quickly left his car to grab her.

Bystanders watched as he carried her through the automatic doors. Medical staff rushed over, surprising him with how diligent they were with getting her to a room. His heart thumped as he watched them place her on a gurney and secure the safety rails. Sweat doused his body from head to toe. The adrenaline was running through his body. He could make out someone trying to speak to him, but his eyes were glued to her distant figure as she traveled down the EMS corridor and towards the resuscitation area.

“Excuse me, Sir?!”

A woman in teal green scrubs shouted for his attention from the reception area. He allowed his eyes to sweep over her and then the reality of where he was and what he needed to do hit him. He took long strides towards the desk, bracing himself there as he tried to calm his nerves.

“Can you tell us what happened? Who it is you brought in and what’s your name and relationship to the patient?”

Another woman with ceil–blue scrubs and a scrub jacket with little faces of children printed on it sat typing away at a registration computer.

“Uh, yes…I’m not sure what her name is. I…I found her…”

His eyes glanced around him warily.

��Found her where, sir?”

“Unconscious. In a ditch. She’d fallen in.”

The two women shared a glance with each other, one that told him they weren’t very trusting of him.

“Where was this?—”

“Moon Seed Loop.” He replied abruptly with a deep voice.

“The trail?”

“Yes,” he stroked a large hand down the front of his hair, “I don’t know her. I just saw her laying there and rushed to bring her in.”

The woman asking questions seemed to relax after those words but still kept an eye on him.

“Did you try performing CPR?”

“No. She’d woken up at some point before going back out.”

“Okay, and what’s your name to put on file?”

“Terry Richmond.”

“Contact? Unless you wish to stick around.”

“I’ll stick around.”

Terry peered into the waiting area, not too thrilled with sitting amongst a bunch of people. But he refused to leave without making sure she was okay.

“Alright. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Thank you.”

Hands in his pockets, he made his way towards the waiting area filled with sick patients.

__________

Plain walls.

The beeping of a monitor.

Fluorescent lighting.

A whiteboard listing her information.

The name of the nurse taking care of her and the physician.

Metal side rails caging her in.

Stark white linens and pillows beneath her head while she lay in Fowler's position.

A hep–lock was placed in her arm and connected to an IV secured with tegaderm. She’s still wearing the GymShark pale blue set but it was covered in dirt stains. Her head pounded from an intense migraine as she tried turning her head.

The pulse–ox on her finger beeped as she moved. Suddenly her curtain had been pulled back and an older white woman with ginger hair and a freckled face appeared. She wore navy blue scrubs with a name badge that read Leslie.

“Hello, Miss. Douglas. I’m nurse Leslie. Glad to see you awake.”

Nurse Leslie sauntered over to check her vitals. Nivea touched the back of her head over a tender spot and felt staples.

“A pretty gnarly lac ya’ had there. Thank goodness the young man that brought ya’ in found ya’.”

Slightly disoriented, Nivea sat up completely in her hospital bed, “Young man?”

“Yes ma’am. Now, can you confirm some things with me, Miss Douglas? Dr. Laphaun would like for me to give you some Tylenol. Just tell me your name and date of birth please.”

She groaned In discomfort, “Nivea Douglas. March twenty first. Nineteen eighty two.”

“Thank you. Here’s your Tylenol and some water…”

Nivea accepted the medicine and washed it down with the water. Her mouth was so dry from dehydration.

“Fluids are nearly done.”

“Leslie,” Nivea placed her cup down and reclined back, “is the young man a detective?”

“I don’t think so. Doesn’t look it. Looks more like a handy man. Tall, muscles, pretty eyes…ring a bell?”

“No—where did he find me? I was out for my morning run and—”

It was cold. She felt her pulse accelerate as her sneaker–clad feet imprinted the dry grounds of Mount Seed Loop. The air thickened around her as she ran faster. Paramore kept her going as she mouthed the words Hayley Williams sang. As she crossed a bridge, an intense wind picked up, causing her to sway slightly. Nivea slowed to a stop, bracing herself along the bridge. Her dark brown eyes focused ahead, and there, staring her in the eyes, was a wolf. Its piercing amber eyes didn’t waver. Nivea took two steps back, and the wolf took two steps forward. A low growl sounded from its muzzle and all sense of animal awareness left her body and was replaced with a fight or flight response.

Nivea ran, leaving the trail and entering beyond the trees. It was behind her, darting between the trees after her to attack. She didn’t know where she was going or why she thought running into the forest was a good idea, but soon, the wolf stopped chasing her, possibly finding something else more interesting. Nivea tried to stop running, but she tripped over an uproot and fell into what appeared to be a perfectly concealed ditch. Nivea gasped, too startled to comprehend what was happening. Her head collided with a sharp stone and her world went black…

“Almost ready for discharge, Miss Douglas. Dr. Laphaun will be in again to check on you before we release you. I’m assuming the young man waiting is your ride home? If not, we can call you an Uber.”

Bemused, Nivea tried to recall if she could remember the man that saved her from an almost fatal accident. Visions of a figure looking down at her flashed across her eyes, and words she couldn’t discern before.

“It’s okay…you’re safe now…”

A man’s voice. A voice of resonant quality. Gruff and husky.

“Can I see this man?”

“Sure! I’ll go grab him for you…”

Nurse Leslie exited the room and Nivea watched her turn down a hall. The distant sound of voices and a ringing phone could be heard. Nivea didn’t know what to expect when that curtain opened. But whoever this man is, she’s forever grateful for his kindness.

A knock to the frame separating her room from the outside startled her.

“Miss. Douglas. It’s Dr. Laphaun. May I come in?”

“Yes,” Nivea sat up, “You can come in.”

The curtain opened to reveal a white male with a bald head and tired eyes. He approached her left side.

“Just doing one final check. Your vitals are stable. Let’s take a look at your head again…excellent. So, I see you’re a veterinarian! How exciting.”

“Yeah,” Nivea gave him a small smile, “Neurological exam good? MRI results?”

“All good. You’re a lucky woman. As I’m sure you know, rest is a crucial part of concussion recovery. Once your symptoms improve, a gradual return to normal activities is recommended. I suggest taking at least a week off from exercise. Maybe your practice as well to be sure.”

“I have a lot of appointments this week, Dr. Laphaun—”

“All that I’m sure can be postponed, Dr. Douglas. The dogs and cats would be grateful to have a competent provider taking care of them.”

“Okay,” Nivea replied with a sigh, “Tylenol, elevate the head, cold compresses if swelling occurs…anything worsens I’ll be back.”

“All the above.” Dr. Laphaun said.

Another knock brought Nivea’s attention to the curtain. A nervous tickle in her stomach.

“Looks like your knight in faded jeans arrived!” Dr. Laphaun jokes.

The curtain opened to reveal a man standing at 6’3 with a body mass index that took up most of the entryway. His eyes are indeed pretty. Hypnotizing. An array of colors that seemed to change whenever the light hit. Sculpted jawline, generous lips, tattoo–covered arms, skin a toasted brown from the intense sun of Louisiana. His black T-shirt stretched over what had to be a well–sculpted torso and the faded jeans Dr. Laphaun was referring to fitting his lower half snug in all the right places. He had a rugged look to him with dark, almost black hair that stood out boldly. Thick, dark lashes and brows with hair that Nivea could tell grew out of control if he didn’t keep it cut low.

Nurse Leslie worked to remove Nivea’s hep–lock. Dr. Laphaun made his exit after shaking the Adonis’s hand. Nurse Leslie informed Nivea where her things were and asked if she needed help out of bed and into a wheelchair.

“I’ll be back with a chair.”

Nurse Leslie left the two of them alone. Nivea locked eyes with the man who was staring back at her unblinking. She broke her eyes away as she tried to swing her legs over the edge. Immediately, the man was by her side, one hand on her back and the other reaching out for her hand.

“Woah, woah. Careful…”

Nivea cast him a wary glance.

“I’m Terry.” He finally introduced himself.

“Nivea.”

Silence stretched on as they locked eyes. Nivea didn’t know what came over her, but she leaped into his arms, circling his neck with her arms in a choking embrace. Terry quickly secured her waist with his hands so she wouldn’t fall. Nivea cried against his neck, the smell of his scent crowding her nose. It was earthy and warm.

“Thank you, Terry! You saved my life!”

Terry was rigid against her.

“Okay, oh!–I’m so sorry—”

Leslie turned beet red. Nivea moved away from Terry with a sheepish smile while rubbing tears from her eyes and snot from her nose.

“Giving Terry here a proper thank you for saving me.” Nivea giggled softly.

“What a lovely young man,” Leslie patted him on the back, “Think you’ll be okay to wheel her out to ya’ truck? If you want ya can pull up and I’ll take her out.”

“Good idea,” Terry patted his back pocket, retrieving his keys, “I’ll be out front.”

Leaping into action, he hurried out of the room. Nivea’s eyes never left his brawny back until he was out of sight. Leslie helped Nivea into the wheelchair and with all her things, they left the room and towards the emergency room exit. Terry’s pitch black dually truck sat high off of the ground. Leslie stuck around to make sure Nivea could be safely transferred.

Terry lifted her up into his arms and placed her on the seat. Leslie smiled before waving goodbye to Terry and Nivea, turning to enter the emergency room. Nivea kept an eye on Terry as he fastened her in. He shut her door and made his way around. Nivea did a quick sweep of his truck, finding it pristine and cozy. It smelled of Royal Pine. He entered the truck and started the ignition. Terry placed his cell phone on a magnetic phone mount, keying in his passcode and pulling up the GPS. Suddenly, he picked up his phone.

“Sorry,” he gave her an apologetic nod before placing his phone back on the mount, “Where to?”

Nivea elevated a brow at him in wonder.

“536 Sterling Grove, 70503.”

“Got it. Let’s get you home.” Terry said.

@theereinawrites @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r @kanafunee @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @dremmmm @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @playgurlxoxo @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

#terry richmond #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #aaron pierre x black!oc

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eternalstretchofmuses · 2 years ago

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Happy rotation day!

#compressed beyond ~ ooc #eternal stretch ~ haruka #sky igniting fox of false dawn ~ aurora #peach river dweller ~ momoe #forgotten and directionless wanderer ~ Kimu #the question to never be answered ~ taemi #creator of all natural sculptures ~ daichi

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whatislovevavy · 17 days ago

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"A little blood never hurt anybody"

Jake helps Caledonia with her period cramps in the best way he can.

WC: 2.7k (I don't think I'm physically capable of writing something less than 1k for these two lmao)

Warnings: Smut, fingering, period sex, Jake being a wonderful boyfriend, you get the gist

Masterlist

Author's note: This is a fun little idea @cherrycola27 brought up in my DMs :) and I’m on my period, so art imitates life I suppose lol. It's been a while since I last posted something for these two, so apologies for the wait

You gently rubbed at your lower abdomen as you reached for your car keys. The slight drizzle and overcast skies seemed to echo the blanket of hormone imbalance and steady bass of dull pain in your body as you walked to your car. Frankly, all you wanted to do was get home and curl yourself into a nest of blankets after a long day at the lab.

You rubbed at your forehead, taking in deep breaths. Your phone buzzing as your ignition purred to life.

Well-fed Raccoon <3: Hey Lass, I’m making lasagna tonight. You want to come over? Couch is pretty lonely without you ;)

Your grin spread. Lasagna did sound amazing, and spending time on the couch with Jake sounded even better.

Sending him a quick text, you shifted your transmission and headed towards Jake’s home near the shore.

—

Jake’s head perked up at the sound of the front door lock clicking out of alignment. He finished putting the lasagna on the stovetop, stripping the oven mitts off of his hands with a soft thump on the counter.

“Hey, Lass, dinner’s ready.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, as you got your shoes off. You moaned out. “Thanks, I’m starving.”

His lip quirked as he poked his head around the corner to meet your smile.

You leaned down to dig out a pad from your purse, wincing as the pain throbbed in your abdomen.

“Everything going alright, Lass?”

His eyes were comforting as you looked up at him, that same molten, evergreen shade of green you loved.

“Yeah, I got my period today.” You winced trying to shrug it off, but the pain was starting to weigh down on you.

His eyebrows furrowed, a slight frown tipping his lip. “Take a seat,” he gestured to the sofa, “I'll grab you some dinner.” His soft tone eased your mind as you took a seat on the plush cushion.

The ache of your abdomen pulsed throughout the rest of your body. Letting your body lean back and eyes drift shut to salvage some comfort in this state. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. Your mind had been what felt like a dinghy in rough seas; no control and being easily swayed by the emotional waves that rivaled the accompanying pain.

“Here you go, pretty girl.” His comforting tone opened your eyes to him holding out a plate of steaming lasagna, a small bottle of painkillers, and a hot compress.

His smile grew as he saw your eyes light up at the sight of food. The term of endearment almost makes you tear up. You’d been feeling like God’s perfect little monster the entire day, ready to take a bite out of someone for looking at you the wrong way.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, giving him a half hearted smile. Jake gently laid a blanket around you as you continued to eat, leaving you to get a slice for himself. As he settled himself on the couch next to you, he offered you a glass of water for your meds. You thanked him, before nestling into his side with a deep sigh, bringing the heat compress to your abdomen, searching for any form of relief as you finished off your lasagna.

“Cal,” he said softly. You hummed in acknowledgement. He placed both of your empty plates on to the coffee table. “Come here,” his broad hands grasping your waist, encouraging you to lay with your head on his chest. You nestled further into his body heat, letting his warmth soothe the steady ache in your womb, your compress nestled between you both. His fingers gently running through your hair, each comforting glide of his fingertips through your hair easing you that much more.

“Feeling any better, Lass?” His tone soft as he began rubbing his hand along your waist and stomach, trying to ease any discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, tipping your head up to look at him. “Yeah, a bit. My cramps are still bothering me. They’re always the worst on the first day.”

Jake gently pushed some stray strands away from your face. “I know something that can help with the cramps.” His lip tipped up at the corner.

You furrowed your brows at the spark in his eyes. You knew that spark all too well. Playfully shaking your head. Frankly, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about that remedy during your day at the lab.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“Sex on your period feels pretty fantastic from what I've heard, Lass. Makes all of the pesky cramps go away.”

Pesky is one way to describe them.

“I'm game if you are,” he said after a beat of silence. His green eyes were bright as his hand rubbed soothing circles on your waist. You bit your lip, fighting with your limbs feeling like jello and your core heating with excitement.

“I don't know, Jake, it sounds kind of messy, and I don't want to clean up blood right now.” Your lower lip pouting out slightly as you soothingly rubbed your stomach, holding the compress in place.

“Who says there’d be a mess?” He grinned.

“Besides,” he drawled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips, excitement dancing beneath his eyes. “A little blood never hurt anybody.”

—

Jake let your bra fall to the tile floor of his bathroom. His hands clutching at your hips and exposed tits as he littered your neck with kisses. “Jake, they're sensitive,” you whimpered out as he gently rolled your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, stiffening in the cool air conditioning.

“Sorry, princess, just got a lil excited,” he murmured into the soft skin of your neck, his thumbs softly strumming over the sensitive, taut flesh. Your nails scratched at the back of his neck and thick shoulders. He guided you inside the shower stall, twisting the knob to bring on the onslaught of warm water onto the both of you. You bit your lip as he backed you up against the wall, letting his mouth and hands claim you as you ran your nails along his back making him shiver. He littered kisses along your neck, softly sucking hickies onto the flesh. His broad, warm hand opened up your thighs, wrapping one around his waist. He gently brought his hand down to your pussy, letting his thumb run over your puffy clit in electrifying, tight circles. Your head leaned back against the wall, hums of contentment leaving your lips. Jake brought his forehead to rest against yours.

“So wet, baby,” he cooed, gently easing in a finger, letting you adjust to him with a soft moan as you pressed your lips to his. He gingerly added a second one, watching intently as your eyes fluttered shut at the thickness of his digits. He tenderly began thrusting, setting a slow pace, giving you time to savor each wonderful inch of his fingers.

“That feel nice?” he cooed.

You feverishly nodded, bringing your hand up to his hair, before pulling him down to meet your lips. He groaned into the kiss as you bit at his lower lip. His fingers increased their tempo, his lips swallowing your moans making him smile into the kiss. He gently pulled away from your lips, your teeth hanging onto his lower lip making him smirk. He looked down, watching his fingers hypnotizingly leave and enter your flushed folds. He increased the tempo, feeling your walls clutch at his fingers. Your pussy drooling beautifully for him.

“There we go, such a good girl, Lass.”

You panted as his two thick fingers diligently fucked into your welcoming cunt. The cascading water barely drowning out your moans and the sopping wetness of your flushed pussy. Your head leaned back against the tiled wall, your lower lip trapped beneath your teeth, eyes clenched shut.

“God, I can't believe I haven't fucked you in the shower till now.” He groaned out, bringing his lips to your neck. His fingers changing their angle to hit that delicious spot unimaginably deeper. The overwhelming feeling made you moan as Jake continued his assault on your neck and pussy. His body and bulging arm separating your quivering thighs, preventing you from clenching them in oversensitivity.

“Jake.” You moaned out.

“Shh, sweetheart, I know. I can feel how close you are-don't want my fingers to fuckin’ leave.” He graveled out a chuckle.

“Fuck, I love feeling you fuck me with your fingers.” You mewled out with that same simpered tone that had Jake's cock stirring against your inner thigh. You were sure the water was getting cooler now, but you were too preoccupied to care.

“Fuck, baby, you just need someone to take care of your pretty, little cunt, and you’re just right as rain again. Isn’t that right?” He cooed, grinning smugly at your pleasure-struck face. You feverishly nodded, lips parted far too prettily, and nails gripping into him harder with each glide of his fingertips against your walls. His salacious words and intoxicating lips along your neck make you shiver, and your walls clench harder around his fingers. His grip tightens around your thigh enough to leave marks. Your nails digging into his shoulder and base of his neck, his taut muscles flexing under the sharp impressions of your nails, the pain spurring him on. His bulging arm moving like a piston, pushing the engine of your impending orgasm into overdrive. The thick blanket of condensation making your mind hazy, mixing with lust into a potent infusion that had you clutching at his body, your mind spiraling higher and higher.

“I got ya, pretty girl, I got ya.”

Your eyes clenched shut, your upper body curling into his own. Whimpers and moans leave your lips as Jake littered soothing kisses along your neck as your high washed over you, electrifying your fingertips.

“Such a good girl, sweets.” He murmured into the soft skin of your neck, his lips grazing your ear as your breathing settled. His body heat radiating onto you, an atmosphere of comfort along each inch of your body.

“Ya feeling better, Lass?”

“Much better.” You murmured, feeling out of breath and like your cheeks were on fire.

You smiled, feeling him smirk into your neck before raising his head, cheeks flushed and pants leaving his lips as he gingerly let his fingers leave your pussy. Words were lost on you as a hiss left your lips at the new feeling of emptiness settling in your stomach. He gently let your leg come down to the shower floor, his hands holding your hips steady. Running your fingers through his soaked hair, you nodded languidly, a content smile on your lips with hazy eyes. The sight made him chuckle as his hands teased their way to the underside on your thighs that felt more like jelly than anything.

“Do you trust me?” His lust-blown eyes met yours. The water soaked his dirty blonde tufts of hair to his forehead as he kept his comforting, but firm grip on the underside of your thighs.

You nodded, gently running your hand over his forehead to push his hair back. Your nails tantalizingly scratch at his scalp, making his dick twitch against your inner thigh.

“I trust you, Jake.” You simpered out, the cool tile at your back making goose flesh start to rise along your skin.

Jake suddenly lifted you up, holding the underside of your knees as leverage, keeping your back pinned to the tile wall, a muffled gasp leaving your lips against his own. His biceps and shoulders bulging at the exertion.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He graveled out against the shell of your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders and upper back. You had no doubt he would. Being around him and feeling his body heat against your own was enough to help soothe the ache that followed the arrival of your monthly visitor.

“Jake,” you whimpered, feeling him try to line up his cock at your soaked entrance. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tried to angle his dick inside of you. Pinching the inside of your cheek with your teeth in amusement at his failed attempts.

“Here, let me,” you simpered, reaching between the two of you, grasping his fat cock, giving him a few corkscrew pumps that had his breath stuttering and eyes threatening to flutter shut. Leaning up to kiss him as you led his aching, bulbous tip to your entrance. “Fuck, Lass, so fucking hot,” He groaned at the feeling of your flushed cunt, grasping and pulling him like your own siren call, leading him to the depths of the ocean. He let his hips rest against yours, his thick length fully encased within you, making you giddy with lust. He pushed your thighs closer to the wall as he found a rhythm that had you mewling against him, your nails digging ever so deeper into his taut shoulders and triceps.

Moans and slapping of skin on skin ricocheted off of the walls of the tiled bathroom. Breathing in each other's breath, consuming each other through your kiss swollen lips.

You lathed kisses at his neck, biting into the thick column and taut muscle of his shoulder, spurring on his groans and thrusts, and leaving marks that Jake would wear with pride in the locker room tomorrow.

“Fuck, Jake, always fuck me so good.” You moaned out as he hit a particularly deep spot inside of you. Your period pain ebbing away with each rub of his cock against your walls holding him in a chokehold. He held your thighs in an iron grip, making you take each inch Jake gave you. His teeth scraping against your neck with each kiss. Your eyes drifting shut, focusing on the feeling of his strong, warm body pressing you against the tile. His heavy pants, guttural groans, and the thickness of him inside you makes your head spin and cunt wrap ever more so tightly around him. Your nails gripping harder into his biceps and thick shoulders as he claimed you.

“That's it sweetheart, that's it-fuck.” He graveled out. Your lips agape as the tell-tale molten heat spread from your toes and fingertips to your clit, your head spinning impossibly faster as your high hit its crescendo. Your lips parting in a silent moan as your walls clamped down on his throbbing cock. “Fuck, Lass, squeezing me so goddamn tight.” He groaned out as tremors wracked your body as he steadily eased you through your high. Your nails clutching at what felt like every inch of his body as his pace slowed, but still hitting deep inside you. Savoring the intense throbbing of your walls around him as he found his high.

“Oh-shit!”

He pressed his hands harder into the backs of your thighs, his hips coming to a halt against yours as he spilled himself deep inside of you with a groan. His eyes clenched shut as he gave a few languid thrusts inside of you. You softly opened your eyes, seeing his closed ones as his breathing came back to him. His gaze met yours as you rubbed soothing circles on his cheeks with your thumbs, a content smile on your lips as you brought his lips to yours. He sighed against your lips as he melted into the kiss, swallowing your whimpers at the new feeling of emptiness as he let his softening cock slip from your flushed pussy. His release following as it dribbled down your folds and inner thighs. He gently lowered your legs till they reached the ground, effectively breaking your kiss as he smiled down at you. You both looked down at the streaks of red flowing down towards the drain, moving along with the shower water.

“Sorry, about that-”

Your breathless, guilty tone made his eyebrows furrow.

“What for? You don't need to apologize for having your period, sweets. Plus,” he leaned down to kiss you, whispering against your ear, “It's my job to take care of you when you're hurtin’.” He drawled, his smile growing with the blush on your cheeks. “And if that means I fuck your pretty brains out in a shower stall, then that’s what I gotta do.”

Thank you for reading <3

Tagging those who might be interested:

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#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #learning from the best #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #tgm #glen powell #jake seresin fic #learning from the best one shot

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moodyvoid · 11 months ago

Text

The League of Villains teaching Toga how to drive.

Mr. Compress: “Driving is simple, Toga! First thing first, buckle up!”

Toga, buckling her seatbelt: “Okay! What next? Do I drive yet—”

Mr. Compress: “No, no! Before we start driving there are just a few simple precautionary steps! Check all your mirrors, adjust your seat properly, carefully observe the instrument panel to make sure the gas tank is full, the check engine light isn’t on, tire pressure is good, and—“

Toga, desperately trying to keep up.

—

Dabi, sitting back in the passenger seat on his phone.

Toga: “So, when did you learn how to drive?”

Dabi: “I stole a car when I was 16 and figured it out from there.”

Toga: “Okay. Um… how do I use the turn signal?”

Dabi: “What the fuck is a turn signal?”

—

Twice: “STOP! Now go… No— WAIT. You’re doing so well! You’re stressing me out!”

Toga: “The car isn’t even on yet.”

Twice: “Oh. Right. Go on and start the car.”

Toga, putting the key in the ignition.

Twice, running out of the car: “I CAN’T DO THIS.”

—

Toga: “Didn’t you learn to drive from some video game?”

Spinner: “Grand Theft Auto is not some video game. I know what I’m doing, don’t worry about it.”

Toga, stopping at a red light.

Spinner: “What are you doing?”

Toga: “The light is red, so I stopped.”

Spinner, snickering: “Oh, Toga. You don’t stop for red lights. You drive through them and then speed until you’re out of the cops radar.”

Toga: “Speed out of what—“

Spinner: “Hit the gas.”

Toga, flooring it through the red light.

—

Toga at the wheel: “Do you even know how to drive?”

Shigaraki in the passenger seat: “No.”

Shigaraki at the wheel.

Toga in the passenger seat: “-and then you speed out of the cops radar. And that’s everything they taught me.“

Shigaraki: “This is stupid. Why do we need to drive? We have Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri in the backseat: “I may not always be around, Tomura.”

Shigaraki: “Why would you say that?”

Toga: “Come on! If I can do it, you can do it!”

Another car cuts them off.

Toga: “They just cut us off! Uh… I don’t know what to do.”

Shigaraki: “I know!”

Shigaraki speeding up and ramming the other car, it flipping over and off the road.

Kurogiri watching the explosion in the back: “I’m not sure that was the correct course of action.”

Shigaraki: “Felt right to me. Driving’s easy.”

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astrstqr · 3 months ago

Text

MAGIC 2͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏─── ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏禅 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏[ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FANTASY DR ͏ ͏͏ ͏]

yoncé speaks: for the lovely anon who asked for more spells

SPELLS ! ✩

✶ Reality Warp: Alter the battlefield to your advantage by manipulating the environment. Create or destroy terrain, summon barriers, or change the properties of the area to hinder enemies and aid allies.

✶ Genesis Wave: A powerful creation spell that can generate new structures, landscapes, or even life forms. Use it to build fortifications, create allies, or reshape the battlefield to your liking.

✶ Eden's Garden: Create a lush, vibrant garden that heals allies, entangles enemies, and produces magical fruits that grant temporary power boosts.

✶ Quantum Shift: Alter the properties of objects and terrain, turning solid ground into liquid, walls into doorways, and weapons into harmless objects.

✶ Arcane Arsenal: Conjures an array of magical weapons that float around the caster, ready to strike at nearby enemies. The weapons can be of various types, dealing different kinds of damage.

✶ Prismatic Elemental Storm: Combine all elemental magics into a devastating storm of fire, water, earth, air, and lightning. This spell can target multiple enemies, creating chaos on the battlefield.

✶ Aurora Veil: A defensive spell that creates a shimmering barrier of light and ice around allies, reflecting and absorbing incoming attacks while slowly healing those within its radius.

✶ Elemental Confluence: Combines the power of the four classical elements—earth, air, fire, and water—into a devastating attack that deals massive damage and affects a large area.

✶ Verdant Surge: Causes a rapid growth of plants and vines in the area, which can entangle enemies, create cover, or provide a boost to nature-based magic.

✶ Glacial Prison: Encases a target in a block of ice, immobilizing them and dealing cold damage over time. Can also be used defensively to shield allies.

✶ Volcanic Eruption: Causes a violent burst of magma to erupt from the ground, dealing fire and earth damage over a wide area and creating hazardous terrain.

✶ Abyssal Tsunami: Control the ocean to create a massive wave imbued with dark energy, capable of engulfing and draining the life force of enemies.

✶ Thunderstorm Armament: Envelop yourself in a storm of lightning, increasing your speed and reflexes while discharging electricity with each attack.

✶ Gale Force Prison: Trap enemies in a swirling vortex of wind that immobilizes them and slices through their defenses with razor-sharp gusts.

✶ Frostbite Field: Create a vast area of extreme cold that freezes everything in its path, slowing down enemies and making the terrain hazardous.

✶ Quicksand Trap: Manipulate the earth to form quicksand beneath your enemies, pulling them down and immobilizing them.

✶ Meteor Shower: Call down a barrage of meteors from the sky, causing widespread devastation and igniting the battlefield.

✶ Fireball Volley: Launch a rapid series of fireballs at multiple targets, causing explosive damage.

✶ Ice Spear: Create a sharp spear of ice that can pierce through armor and freeze the target on impact.

✶ Lightning Bolt: Summon a concentrated bolt of lightning that strikes with pinpoint accuracy, stunning and electrocuting the target.

✶ Rock Barrier: Erect a sturdy wall of rock that provides cover and can be used to block enemy attacks.

✶ Water Whip: Control a stream of water to lash out at enemies, binding and restraining them with powerful currents.

✶ Wind Blade: Form a blade of compressed air that slices through enemies with the speed and sharpness of a razor.

✶ Flame Cloak: Envelop yourself in a cloak of fire, enhancing your physical attacks and burning anyone who comes into contact with you.

✶ Tidal Wave: Summon a large wave of water to sweep away enemies and create a barrier or path.

✶ Earthquake: Shake the ground violently, causing enemies to lose balance and fall while creating fissures that can trap or hinder movement.

✶ Blizzard: Create a powerful snowstorm that reduces visibility, slows down enemies, and inflicts frost damage over time.

✶ Thunder Clap: Generate a deafening shockwave of sound and lightning that stuns and disorients enemies.

✶ Magma Burst: Cause molten rock to erupt from the ground, creating hazardous terrain and dealing continuous fire damage.

yoncé speaks: hope you like :D

#yonce ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏★#my dr things 𓈒 𑁯 ⁀ ִ ۫#fantasy dr #mcu dr #mha dr #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting #shifters #desired reality #shifting motivation #manifesation #things to script #dr scripting #shifting script #scripting ideas #shifting ideas #magic

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aspenmissing · 2 months ago

Note

Hey hey hey! If you're comfortable with it and you have time, can I request a oneshot with Jayce, Viktor, Jayvik, Ekko, Vander, Silco and Jinx reaction to reader making something similar to odm gear and seeing it in action?!

🫶🏼🫶🏼

Btw, I'm literally in love with all of your works 😍

ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7815 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛꜱ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ɪ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ! ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ! ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏʏʏ!! <3 <3

JAYCE

Jayce had always been the golden boy of progress. The hammer-swinging, wide-grinning symbol of Piltover’s brilliance. Councilman, inventor, icon—he walked the gilded halls like he was born to ascend them. But lately, his gaze had begun to wander.

Not out of boredom. Not out of arrogance.

But toward you.

And you? You were busy reinventing gravity.

You hadn’t meant to make a weapon. Not exactly. It started off as a dare to yourself—just a sketch on a coffee-stained napkin after watching a Lanes courier vault from rooftop to rooftop like a ghost, ducking patrols and disappearing into the smog. If they could run like the wind, you thought, then surely someone could fly.

The gear you built was crude compared to Jayce’s polished designs, but elegant in its ambition: compressed air canisters, dual-hook grappling lines, and gyroscopic stabilizers synced to wrist-mounted control pads. All of it powered by a humble shard of low-yield Hextech crystal you'd salvaged from one of Heimerdinger’s rejected prototypes.

It was heavy, loud, and clunky.

It was beautiful.

And it worked.

Jayce found you in your workshop just as the sun began bleeding through the stained-glass windows of the Academy’s lesser-known wings. Blueprints lined the walls in overlapping layers, curling at the corners. Tools lay scattered like breadcrumbs leading to invention—or madness. Half-drunk mugs of cold coffee sat abandoned beside scorched wires and busted coils.

You were hunched over your workbench, muttering to yourself, soldering a filament to the ignition trigger on your left gauntlet. Sparks snapped against your goggles. You didn’t even hear the door creak open.

Jayce leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, for someone who claims they’re not an inventor, you’re making me look bad.”

You didn’t look up. “I’m not trying to show you up. Just trying not to die when I test this thing.”

Jayce pushed off the frame and walked in, eyeing the crude-yet-impressive rig strapped to your hips. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

You finally glanced at him, smirking. “Want to see me jump off a building?”

Jayce blinked. “...Please tell me you’re joking.”

The platform you chose was high enough to make Jayce question all your life decisions.

It overlooked one of the older industrial sectors of Piltover—full of brick towers and tight alleyways, perfect for testing mid-air pivoting and anchoring. The wind howled up here, snapping at your coat as you stood on the ledge. The city sparkled below, gold and steel and smoke, a puzzle box of possibility.

Jayce stood below, pacing like a man awaiting a death sentence. “You’re not actually going to jump off that thing, are you?!”

You called down, voice bright. “Only one way to find out if it works!”

“If it doesn’t, you’ll die.”

You looked over your shoulder and grinned. “Yeah, but I’ll die cool.”

“Y/N!”

You winked, took a breath—then stepped off the edge.

For one long, heart-seizing second, there was only free fall. The city blurred into streaks. Wind screamed past your ears, cold and brutal.

SHHH-KA-THUNK!

The hook slammed into the side of a clocktower. The cord snapped taut with a jolt, swinging you wide in a violent arc. Your stomach dropped. Your heart leapt. And for the first time in your life, you flew.

The stabilizers activated, a dull thrum beneath your ribs, balancing your core as the gear recalibrated mid-air. You twisted your hips and fired again—another line hissed into the upper edge of a smokestack. Your momentum curved sharply, propelling you into a tight spiral between two towers. You screamed—half exhilaration, half raw joy.

Your laughter echoed over the rooftops, bright and feral and alive.

Down below, Jayce was frozen. His hands gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white. He watched you defy gravity with nothing but grit and ingenuity and a bit of salvaged Hextech. His heart was in his throat.

And then you descended, cutting your final line, landing hard on the stone platform with a rough skid. The boots groaned beneath the impact. You dropped into a crouch, panting, flushed and grinning like a lunatic. Hair wild. Eyes blazing.

You looked like you'd stared down death and come back with stars in your lungs.

Jayce rushed to your side, but stopped short, stunned.

You stood tall, unhooking the gear, chest rising and falling with adrenaline, your voice breathless. “So… that went well.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared, open-mouthed. Awestruck. A little terrified. A lot in love.

“Holy shit,” he finally breathed. “That was—”

“A little terrifying?” you offered, tilting your head, trying to downplay the way your knees still shook.

Jayce dropped to one knee in front of you, fingers gently reaching to cup your face. “No. That was incredible.”

You blinked, suddenly shy in the face of his sincerity. “Yeah?”

He smiled, eyes crinkling with affection. “You just... defied physics. Gravity. Sanity. And you lived. You flew.”

You leaned forward until your foreheads touched, your voice soft, but electric. “Told you I wasn’t trying to show you up.”

Jayce chuckled, brushing a wind-swept strand of hair from your cheek. “You didn’t. You reminded me what progress really is. It’s not always polished. It’s not always safe.”

His hand slid down to rest over your pulse, thundering beneath your skin. “Sometimes it’s messy. Bold. Brave. You.”

And then he kissed you—hard and breathless and full of awe—like he was afraid you'd launch into the sky again and never come back.

But for that moment, at least, your feet were still on the ground.

VIKTOR

The lab was a mess—and not in the “scattered blueprints and spare parts” kind of way Viktor usually tolerated. This was the chaotic aftermath of trial and error. Cables snaked across the scorched floor, copper coils were fused together from overheating, and a faint trail of smoke curled toward the ceiling from the metallic heap that hung from an exposed support beam.

You sat cross-legged in the center of it all, a smear of grease on your cheek, your elbow propped on your knee, and your chin cradled in your palm. There was a wrench resting across your thigh and soot in your hair. You were silent, staring at the failed test like it had personally offended you, oscillating between frustration and grudging admiration.

Then came the sound of metal striking stone—tap, thud, tap, thud—as Viktor’s cane echoed down the hall and into the lab. He stepped in, sharp eyes scanning the damage with the calm horror of someone far too used to your antics.

He stopped in the doorway, took a slow breath, and tilted his head. “Moje srdce… dare I ask what used to be over there?” (My Heart)

You grinned, teeth white behind smudged lips. “Progress, my dear Viktor. Beautiful, explosive, back-bruising progress.”

His eyes moved from the twisted steel to you. “Ah. So nothing survived.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” you said, standing and brushing ash off your trousers. You flexed your gloved fingers, then made your way to the far corner of the lab where a cleaner workstation stood. With a flourish, you unveiled what looked like a harness out of a madman’s dream: waist-mounted grappling hooks, gas-propelled canisters, retractable wires, and twin foot-thrusters that shimmered faintly with traces of Hextech filaments.

“Introducing…” You struck a dramatic pose. “Omni-Directional Mobility gear. Or ODM gear. Designed for vertical traversal and high-speed movement across complex environments. It’s how I’ll win the council’s innovation grant. And maybe a few races across the rooftops of Piltover.”

Viktor limped closer, inspecting it with narrowed eyes. “Y/N… this looks incredibly dangerous.”

“That’s because it is,” you replied, chest puffed with pride. “And that’s the fun part.”

He glanced at you, then the ceiling scorch mark, then back at you. “You wish to wear this and use it?”

“Not wish,” you corrected, lifting the harness. “Will. Today, actually. Just need someone brilliant, charming, morally conflicted, and devastatingly handsome to oversee the test and make sure I don’t die. Know anyone like that?”

Viktor sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If you break a limb, I will be the one repairing it. You do realize that, yes?”

You stepped in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving a small grease smudge behind. “Then I’ll count myself lucky to be in the hands of the man I love.”

His lips quirked. “Flattery won’t distract me from how thoroughly unhinged this is.”

“But it might distract you a little.”

Academy testing grounds

The wind was biting. Cold and sharp against your cheeks as you stood on the rooftop, the city sprawling out below you like a maze of steel veins and sun-kissed rooftops. The gear whirred softly at your hips, the pressure tanks fully loaded. You inhaled slowly and looked over your shoulder.

Viktor stood behind the safety railing, gripping his cane tightly with one hand and a clipboard in the other. His face was unreadable, though his knuckles had gone white.

“Ready?” you called, shouting over the wind.

“No,” he replied immediately. “You are about to do something ridiculous and untested.”

You winked. “Perfect.”

And then you launched.

The air cracked as the grappling hooks fired, slamming into the ledge of a tall tower. The cable lines tensed, and with a jolt, your body was flung forward. You whooped as momentum carried you, the world rushing by in a blur of sky and steel. It was fast, chaotic, but you felt free.

Midair, you activated the thrusters. They kicked with a violent whoosh, redirecting your flight as you arced toward Viktor’s observation platform. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Gravity bent to your will.

Then came the landing—less of a “graceful drop” and more of a “controlled crash.” You tumbled across the stone, rolled onto your back, and lay there, gasping, grinning at the sky.

Viktor’s shout rang out. “Did you just— You almost hit the tower! Do you have any idea how close you were to breaking your neck?!”

You pushed up to a seated position, hair wild, cheeks flushed. “But did you see it?!”

He appeared at your side moments later, cane tapping faster than usual. He knelt beside you with difficulty, worry etched across his face as he checked your limbs for damage.

“Nothing broken?” he asked, voice softer now.

You shook your head. “Just bruises and adrenaline.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, forehead brushing yours as his hand cupped your cheek. “You’re brilliant. And utterly reckless. You do realize that my heart cannot withstand this level of stress?”

You leaned into his touch, your smile gentler now. “But you’re still here.”

“I always will be,” he murmured, brushing a windblown strand from your face.

And then, amidst the burn marks and the distant whine of retracting cables, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It was grounding—his lips warm, his hands steady, the world shrinking until there was only you and him and the soft hum of victory in your veins.

The two of you worked in companionable silence. The lighting was low and golden, casting a soft glow over the room. Viktor scribbled calculations while you tuned the fine control servos on the ODM rig, your hands moving instinctively, tired but fulfilled.

“I was thinking…” you began, voice soft, screwdriver turning a bolt with a quiet click.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up from his notes.

“If I can get the controls more intuitive, maybe… I can build a version for you. Reinforced with Hextech. Lighter. Something that integrates with your cane so you can shift balance mid-swing.”

The scratching of pen on paper stopped.

“You’re designing one for me?”

You glanced up and met his eyes. “Well, yeah. You deserve to fly too.”

He looked at you then, really looked. Something in his expression melted—a vulnerability he rarely let surface. He reached over and took your hand, gently, his thumb running over your grease-streaked knuckles.

“You’re extraordinary,” he whispered. “And very bad for my blood pressure.”

You grinned. “But good for your heart?”

His smile deepened, quiet and tender. “Always.”

And in that peaceful moment—surrounded by half-finished inventions, half-burned schematics, and a love that had only grown stronger through every storm—you realized that even with both feet on the ground, Viktor had already taken flight… right into your heart.

JAYVIK

The low hum of Hextech resonated through the lab like a living pulse, intertwining with the soft, rhythmic tap… tap… tap of Viktor’s cane on the metal floor. The air was thick with the familiar scent of hot copper, solder smoke, and machine oil — the smell of progress, of obsession, and of long nights spent working too close together to call it anything but love.

You were hunched over your latest creation — a contraption that looked like it had crawled out of a wild dream. It hugged the contours of your back like an armored exoskeleton, lined with pressurized canisters, dual-wired harpoons, and flexible tubing that gleamed in the dim light. It was part weapon, part miracle. Messy. Volatile. Brilliant.

“I think I’ve finally got the pressure calibration right,” you muttered without looking up, goggles slightly fogged and a smudge of grease streaked across your cheek. “I just need to test the grapple retraction system. Then it’s go time.”

Jayce, who had been pretending to tinker with one of his hammers across the room, finally gave up the act and crossed over to stand behind you. His arms were folded, muscles tense in that classic overprotective spouse stance. “You mean the part where you launch yourself across buildings and hope the retractor doesn’t snap you in half like a slingshot?”

You grinned without missing a beat. “Exactly. That’s the one.”

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle as he approached, his gait measured, each step echoing softly. He rested a hand on the edge of the worktable, fingers brushing against scattered blueprints and half-finished schematics. “Perhaps I should prepare a stretcher. Or at the very least, a very large mattress — to catch your fall or Jayce’s panic-induced fainting spell.”

You finally looked up, blinking behind your goggles. There they were — your constants. One a silhouette of elegance and intellect, leaning on a cane like it was just another limb, gaze sharp and endlessly curious. The other was all warmth and strength, already frowning like a man about to witness his wife jump off a cliff — because he was, and also because he’d probably jump after you if it went wrong.

“You two are such worriers.” You clicked the final piece into place with a satisfying snap. “I’ve triple-checked the failsafes. Besides, if this works, it could completely revolutionize mobility in Zaun’s lower sectors. Think about it — no more ladders, no more stairs. Just… freedom.”

Viktor tilted his head. “You mean imagine how many times Jayce will try to steal it and crash into a wall.”

Jayce gasped, scandalized. “I have never crashed anything.”

“You broke your nose piloting a hoverboard,” Viktor said without even blinking.

“That was once. And I blame you for giving me faulty schematics.”

“You forgot to attach the stabilizers.”

You sighed dramatically and stood, slipping your arms into the harness and adjusting the shoulder straps. “Alright, boys. Save your flirting for later. Time for the show.”

Outside, on the reinforced test field behind the Academy, the sunlight glinted off steel beams and tall support poles — like the skeleton of a city waiting to be explored. The wind picked up, brushing your hair back as you adjusted your gloves and flexed your fingers.

Viktor had claimed a seat on one of the benches, cane resting across his lap, eyes gleaming like molten gold in the sun. Jayce stood beside him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in an expression that said, I support you and I’m terrified for you all at once.

“You’re sure about this?” Jayce called out, voice raised just enough to carry across the yard.

You looked over your shoulder at the two of them and gave a cocky little salute. “Hold your jaws. This is gonna be awesome.”

Then you fired.

The twin harpoons launched with a thwip, embedding into one of the topmost beams with a satisfying clang. The canisters hissed — and then you were flying. Your stomach flipped as the retraction system yanked you upward, the world blurring into streaks of blue and silver and wind-whipped exhilaration.

You twisted midair, feet tucking as you angled your trajectory, and then released. Your body arced like a missile, flipping once, twice — before you fired again. This time you zipped sideways across the course, weaving between beams like a pendulum with purpose.

Jayce whistled low, utterly floored. “Holy—”

“She’s like a pendulum,” Viktor murmured, leaning forward. “A very fast, very terrifying pendulum.”

You caught the edge of a high beam with your boots and crouched like a predator, grinning down at them. “See?”

Pop.

The grapple line detached.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as gravity reclaimed you, wind roaring in your ears.

Jayce bolted, sprinting toward the landing zone with panic written all over his face. Viktor didn’t move — not because he didn’t care, but because he saw it. The backup line hissed a split-second later, catching you mid-fall and slinging you into a wide arc. You landed hard on the practice pad with a bounce and a skid, rolling once before stopping in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Jayce reached you first, hands on your shoulders, eyes wide and wild. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

You were still laughing, breathless and glowing. “Only a mild one.”

Viktor arrived a moment later, slower but smiling, his eyes scanning you for injury with clinical precision and something much softer underneath. “You are reckless. And brilliant. And you are never testing that without us again.”

You pulled them both in, fingers fisting in shirt collars, tugging their warmth toward you. “So… you liked it?”

Jayce looked like he was still recalibrating his pulse. “Are you kidding? I’m already thinking about how to integrate the grapples into a gauntlet system. Make it more compact. More… me.”

Viktor leaned his forehead to yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m thinking about how proud I am. And how much you terrify me, mé srdce.” (My Heart)

You turned to kiss his cheek, then did the same to Jayce, who grinned despite himself. “Good,” you said. “That means it’s working.”

And for a brief moment, the three of you stood there — inventor, engineer, idealist — tangled in love and sweat and adrenaline. A messy little triad of heartbeats and Hextech, tethered tighter than any wire could hold.

VANDER

The Last Drop was buzzing with its usual late-night hum — drunken laughter, clinking glasses, the low rumble of arguments that hadn’t turned serious yet, and the occasional crash that followed Mylo being a menace. Warm lantern light flickered against the stone walls, casting shadows that danced over patrons leaning into their drinks and their secrets.

You were tucked away in the back room Vander had cleared out for you weeks ago. It used to be a storage space — cluttered, dusty, forgotten — but now it smelled like oil, copper, and ambition. Tools were strewn across the workbench in organized chaos. Gears, bolts, lengths of wire, and scrawled blueprints layered with sketches and notes in your handwriting. At the heart of it all, clamped between two heavy vices, was your prototype: a pair of mechanized grapple gauntlets rigged with compressed gas triggers and reinforced cables.

Vander leaned in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, watching with quiet curiosity. His figure took up most of the frame, a silhouette against the dim glow of the bar beyond. He looked like someone who belonged in every room he entered — steady, grounding, impossibly solid.

“You planning to take flight, love?” he asked, voice rough with humor and affection, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced up from tightening a gear spindle, grease smudged across your cheek and temple. The lamp above you flickered once as if catching your grin.

“Not quite. More like... launch, swing, land dramatically. Maybe with a flip,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He let out a low chuckle. “You planning to be Zaun’s first flying rat?”

You turned in your chair, wiping your hands on a stained cloth. “You laugh, but this could be the future of getting around down here. No more broken ladders or hoping someone doesn't cut the bridge ropes just to win a bet. It’s fast, it’s nimble—”

“—it’s dangerous,” he cut in, stepping closer, his brow lifting in that familiar are you serious? kind of way.

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Since when has that ever stopped us?”

He exhaled a warm laugh through his nose, one hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, calloused but gentle. Then he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple — careful not to disturb the leather strap of your goggles perched on your head.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “Impress me.”

A few days later, the air was thick with Zaun’s signature blend of fog and soot as you stood atop a rusting industrial tower in the middle of the Undercity. The whole district stretched around you in tangled metal veins — walkways, bridges, and pipes stacked like a forgotten puzzle. Below, the streets pulsed with green-glowing chem lights and the chatter of the sleepless.

The wind tugged at your coat as you adjusted the weight of your gear. The twin grapple-shooters on your arms clicked into place, the gas canisters hissing faintly with built-up pressure. Every wire, every trigger, every mechanism had been triple-checked — and yet your heart still hammered like a jackhammer in your chest.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”

Below, Vander stood near the base of the tower, arms crossed again — but this time with a crease between his brows that hadn’t been there before. Vi, Claggor, and Powder were shouting and waving from a nearby platform, barely keeping their balance on a rusted railing. Mylo had already passed Powder a crumpled napkin IOU for “one sweetcake", reluctantly.

“No faith,” you muttered. “Typical.”

You pulled your goggles down, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Thunk—SSSHHHRIP!

The first hook launched with a mechanical snap, embedding into a distant support beam. A split second later, the second grapple flew, catching onto a dangling pipe. Suddenly you were airborne, pulled forward like a pendulum unleashed, your feet leaving the platform as the city fell away beneath you.

The wind howled past your ears, and you let out a sharp laugh — half adrenaline, half triumph. You twisted mid-air, released one grapple, and fired again, catching another beam and swinging in a tight arc. Your coat flared behind you like wings, boots skimming just above rooftops and rusted ductwork.

You skimmed by a crumbling building close enough to snag a loose poster with your shoulder, then kicked off a ledge to adjust your path — the city becoming a blur of smoke and steel.

“SHE’S A SPIDER!” Vi shouted, eyes wide with exhilaration.

“SHE’S GONNA DIE!” Powder screeched, half-hiding behind Claggor.

“SHE’S GONNA DIE AWESOMELY!” Mylo added, pumping a fist.

Vander still said nothing. But his eyes never left you — locked onto every twist, every lurch, every daring manoeuvre with a look that was part amazement, part horror, and something deeper… something fierce and protective.

When your boots finally made contact again, skidding across a rusted catwalk, you staggered once — knees threatening to buckle — but managed to stay upright. You threw your arms out dramatically, panting, exhilarated, alive.

“Ta-da!” you called out, voice hoarse but proud.

And then Vander was there. You didn’t even see him approach — just felt the heavy warmth of his arms wrap around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding embrace. He smelled like metal, smoke, and safety. His heart was racing beneath his shirt.

“You’re insane,” he murmured, voice low, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But you’re brilliant.”

You melted into his chest, your goggles askew and breath still catching up. “So you liked it?”

“I loved it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your face. His thumb brushed a grease smudge from your cheek. “But next time you test something that could kill you, I’m standing behind you with a net. And three people holding it. And a bloody mattress on the floor.”

You snorted, grinning. “Deal. As long as you let me strap you in next.”

He blinked. “You want me to fly around like that?”

You winked. “Zaun’s protector in the skies? Think of the legend. You’d be unstoppable.”

Vander groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a deep, rumbling laugh. “You’re gonna be the death of me, love.”

“But I’ll make it look good.”

SILCO

The hiss of steam and metal reverberated through the underground workshop, the scent of oil thick in the air. Sparks danced in the low light as you tightened the last bolt on the gauntlet wrapped around your wrist. The final adjustment clicked into place with a satisfying snap.

From the shadows, Silco watched you, arms crossed, one brow raised in silent amusement.

“Still trying to kill yourself in increasingly creative ways?” he drawled, his voice rich and amused, smoky like the exhaust pipes just overhead.

You glanced back at him, a smudge of soot across your cheek, your hair pinned back haphazardly. “If it works, I’ll be able to move through the city faster than anyone. Rooftops, alleys, smokestacks—it won’t matter. No enforcer or bounty hunter could catch me.”

Silco stepped closer, his boots echoing against the iron floor. “Is that what this is about? Evasion?”

You turned back to your workbench, fingers trailing over the dual-wired harpoons attached to the side of the waist harness. “It’s about control. About not waiting around for someone else to come save Zaun. This tech… it’s the next step.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His lone eye studied the way your muscles tensed, the way your voice dropped when you talked about progress, revolution, invention. He’d seen men claim devotion to Zaun before, but rarely had he seen someone build for it the way you did.

“You intend to test it today,” he said finally. Not a question. A statement.

You nodded. “I have to.”

Silco sighed through his nose, stepping forward until he was just behind you. “I’ve lost too many people to risk, Darling.”

You paused, heartbeat stalling at the gravity in his voice. Then you turned to face him, placing a gloved hand over his chest.

“You won’t lose me,” you said softly. “Trust me.”

The winds howled above Zaun that night, a storm rolling in from the Piltovan cliffs. You stood on the edge of a decrepit smokestack, your boots balanced on a narrow pipe, wind whipping through your coat. Below, the chaos of Zaun continued—scuffles, steam, and shadows.

Silco stood on a nearby rooftop, watching.

You pulled your goggles down over your eyes, tightened your grip on the handles connected to the dual cables at your sides, and took a deep breath.

And jumped.

For a second, your stomach flipped. Then you fired the first harpoon.

THUNK—the bolt lodged into the side of an iron tower.

The world lurched. You twisted your hips, activated the gas burst—

WHOOSH.

You soared.

The second harpoon fired, a graceful arc of metal singing through the air. You caught another anchor point and let the cables reel you in. The wind tore past you, your body weaving effortlessly between support beams and smokestacks like a bird finally given wings.

From the rooftop, Silco watched with stunned disbelief. You were a streak of movement against the skyline—your coat flaring behind you like a second shadow, cables slashing through the fog, each movement calculated and smooth.

Then—click—you heard it. A snap, not unlike the sound of a bolt misfiring. The world tilted in a rush of panic.

The second harpoon cable jerked loose, the tether unraveling into the night air. You yanked at the handles, but the burst of gas only sent you spiraling toward the industrial skyline.

No, no, no.

Your heart raced as you fumbled with the gear. The gust of wind fought against you, sending you careening into the narrow gap between two rusted buildings. You tried to correct yourself, but your boots hit the edge of a metal ledge and—

Splash.

The icy cold water surged around you, and for a moment, everything went silent. Your heart hammered in your chest, the cold of the water seeping into your bones.

Silco’s eye widened in alarm. Without thinking, he made a move to leap toward the edge of the rooftop.

“Y/N!” he yelled, voice breaking through the roar of the storm.

But just as his foot hovered over the side, a head popped up from the water below, drenched hair slicked back against your face, but your grin wide and wicked as ever.

“Did you see that?!” you shouted, eyes alight with triumph. “I almost had it!”

Silco stood frozen for a moment, his mind still trying to catch up with the wildness of it all. A slight breath of relief escaped his lips, his chest tightening as he looked down at you, drenched and laughing in the storm-riddled waters below.

“Almost?!” he barked, though the edge in his voice couldn’t mask the relief beneath it. His hands clenched at his sides, the storm swirling around him as his gaze never wavered from you.

You waded out of the muck, pulling yourself onto a dock, shivering slightly from the cold as you powered through the moment.

“Almost,” you repeated, flashing him a grin as you pulled your goggles up and wiped your brow. “That was just a test run.”

You laughed again, the sound like a spark of life amidst the dreary, storm-soaked night.

Silco finally exhaled, eyes softening beneath his hard expression. “You’re reckless.” His tone was scolding, but it lacked its usual bite, as though his concern was beginning to outweigh the irritation.

You crossed the distance between you with a few long strides, ignoring the cold water dripping down your clothes. “But it worked, didn’t it? That’s progress.”

Before he could respond, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your chilled hands, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of rain and salt filled your mouth, but it was the way he kissed you back that mattered. Slow, deliberate, as if this was the only moment that mattered.

When you broke apart, his lips were still close to yours, voice soft. “Zaun needs people like you.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his, your breath visible in the cool night air. “Then I’ll make sure I’m always there.”

Silco’s gaze lingered on yours a moment longer. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And with the city howling below, storm winds rising, and your gear still dripping water, you knew one thing for certain:

This was only the beginning.

JINX

Y/N had always been the tinkerer, the one to dream up outlandish inventions and make them a reality. After all, this was Zaun—a place where even the wildest ideas could find a home, if you had the guts to try. But today was different. Today, Y/N was finishing something truly ambitious, something that could push the boundaries of the impossible.

"Jinx!" Y/N called, their voice brimming with excitement as they held up the strange contraption in their hands. The device was a pair of mechanical wings, connected by an intricate web of coiled wires, with powerful grappling hooks and a sturdy harness. The whole thing hummed with barely contained energy, waiting to be tested. "I think it’s ready!"

Jinx, who had been pacing around the workshop with her usual boundless energy, practically bounced over to Y/N. Her wide eyes gleamed with unrestrained excitement, her messy hair flying every which way as she got a closer look. "No way! Is it really gonna work? I mean, this looks like something straight out of a crazy dream!" She reached out to touch one of the coils, sending a spark of electricity racing across the surface.

Y/N smirked, adjusting the straps of the harness before securing the device onto their body. "You’ll be the first to test it," they said with a wink, tightening the straps as they went. "You always love to take things for a spin, right?"

Jinx’s grin widened even more, her eyes dancing with the kind of excitement that only she could muster. She wiggled her fingers in the air like a mad scientist on the brink of chaos. "Oh, hell yeah! But you’re telling me this thing can actually fly?"

Y/N chuckled, adjusting a few more bolts and tapping a small switch. The wings and coils buzzed to life, the mechanisms humming beneath the surface. "Not exactly flying," Y/N explained, their voice confident, yet with a touch of thrill in it. "More like... swinging? It’s a grappling hook system, but with a bit of flair. You can swing from buildings, dodge attacks, and move fast enough to confuse anyone trying to catch you."

Jinx's eyes practically sparkled, her expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. She jumped up and down, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "That’s so cool! I can’t wait to see it in action! Let’s go already!" Her voice was high-pitched with excitement, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her contagious energy.

With a mischievous smile, Y/N nodded, their heart pounding in anticipation. "Alright, but you have to promise not to break anything... too expensive."

Before Y/N could even finish, Jinx was already out of the door, dashing toward the towering rooftops of Zaun, her long legs carrying her effortlessly through the cluttered streets. Y/N followed, their heart racing as they activated the ODM-like gear. The coils sprang to life with a satisfying whir, and the powerful lines shot out toward the nearest building. Y/N leaned forward, bracing themselves as the grappling hook latched on, and in an instant, they were pulled off the ground. With a swift motion, they swung into the air, the sensation of weightlessness rushing through their body.

"Woah, this feels amazing!" Y/N shouted, feeling the adrenaline flood their veins as the wind whipped past their face. They zipped across the city, swinging from one building to the next, their heart racing in time with the motion of the gears. The city’s sharp angles and broken skyline blurred beneath them, making it all feel like a thrilling dream.

Jinx, already several rooftops ahead, turned to look over her shoulder. A wide grin spread across her face, and she let out a loud, enthusiastic cheer. "That’s sick, Y/N! You’re basically a flying ninja!" she yelled, spinning in a wild loop in the air, her laughter echoing in the open space around them.

Y/N adjusted the controls, steering their body with precision, twisting and flipping mid-air. The gears responded with almost eerie accuracy, letting Y/N glide effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop. "It’s working!" Y/N shouted, the exhilaration of the moment making their voice crack with joy. "I’m actually doing it!" They shot past Jinx, their heart hammering in their chest as they looped around a nearby building, feeling like they were defying gravity itself.

Jinx, not one to be outdone, suddenly had an idea. "Let’s make this interesting!" she called out, her voice full of mischievous glee. Without warning, she grabbed a nearby bottle—something filled with a strange, fizzing substance—and tossed it toward Y/N with a wicked grin.

"Catch!" she screamed, her voice bubbling with wild delight.

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. Instinct kicked in, and they swung toward the bottle with a practiced motion. In a split second, they snagged it mid-air, the hooks of the gear latching onto it. They adjusted their grip, the coil pulling them forward with explosive force. Y/N twisted, using the momentum to avoid a shower of sparks from a nearby generator, their heart hammering in time with the rush of wind around them.

Jinx’s laugh echoed behind them as she spun through the air in a dizzying loop, her reckless energy perfectly matched to the wildness of the moment. "Alright, let’s go higher!" she yelled, the sound of her voice high with excitement. "What’s the point of swinging through Zaun if you can’t make it a little dangerous, huh?!" With a devilish grin, she shot up the side of a nearby tower, her feet barely touching the crumbling wall as she darted upwards like a streak of lightning.

Y/N’s pulse spiked, and they grinned back at Jinx. "Lead the way, Jinx! I’m right behind you!" They gave the grappling hook another twist, sending themselves off after her with renewed excitement. The city, a chaotic blend of towering buildings and endless pipes, blurred around them as they pushed the gear to its limits, zipping higher, faster, the wind catching their hair as they moved through the skyline like a pair of wild spirits.

The next hour passed in a blur of adrenaline and laughter, the two of them testing the ODM-like gear in every conceivable way. They swung between the crumbling remnants of factories, launched themselves through open gaps in buildings, and even twisted through tight spaces where the gears barely had room to function. Each stunt felt wilder than the last, each near miss more exhilarating than the one before.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the city and painting the sky with shades of orange and pink, they finally slowed down. Perched atop a tall, crumbling tower, they took a moment to catch their breath, the rush still lingering in their veins. Jinx looked over at Y/N, her wide eyes full of admiration as she wiped a strand of hair from her face.

"You really nailed it, Y/N," she said breathlessly, her voice full of awe. "This is insane. We could totally make a fortune with this... or cause some major mayhem."

Y/N wiped the sweat from their brow, their chest still rising and falling with the excitement of the ride. "Well, I didn’t build it for the money," they replied with a smile, their voice steady but laced with thrill. "But yeah, I have a feeling this could come in handy."

Jinx’s grin returned, wider than ever. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the kind of gleam that spelled nothing but trouble. "In that case..." she said, voice low and dangerous, "...I think we should test it again. Only this time, we’ll throw in some explosions. What do you think?"

Y/N rolled their eyes with a sigh, but deep down, they knew they wouldn't be able to resist. "Sounds like a terrible idea," they said, laughing despite themselves, already knowing where this would lead. "But yeah, I’m in."

And with that, they both leapt off the tower, ready for whatever madness Jinx had planned next.

EKKO

The dim light of the workshop flickered overhead, casting shadows over the cluttered benches and scattered tools. Y/N’s hands were steady, their brow furrowed in concentration as they fine-tuned the final mechanism of the experimental device. A sleek, slightly bulky contraption—a blend of steel, wires, and hydraulics—rested against their waist, its metallic arms extending out with a series of intricate, almost alien hooks.

It looked like something from a far-off world, but Y/N could feel the familiar thrill of possibility coursing through their veins. This was it. The dream they'd been working on for weeks. The sensation of freedom, of flight, of soaring through the air with nothing but a few precise movements. It was almost like the stories from their childhood, when they'd heard of people flying, moving like the wind, untouchable by the city's weight.

As their fingers worked on securing the last bolt, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The thought of what this could do for Zaun, for everyone stuck on the streets, in the underbelly of Piltover's shadow, excited them. They’d never seen anything like it here—no one had.

"You're up to something dangerous again, aren't you?"

The voice that broke through their focused reverie was familiar, warm, and full of affection. Ekko stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the device with a mixture of admiration and concern. He'd seen Y/N make countless creations over the years, but this one? This one had the potential to change everything. The way he looked at them, though, was both awe and the kind of worry that only came when someone you loved was diving headfirst into something reckless.

Y/N turned to face him, their lips curling into a smile. "Well, you know me. I like to keep things interesting." They gave him a sly wink before returning to their work. "This could change everything for Zaun. Think about it—imagine being able to move faster than anyone could catch us, slipping past the enforcers, taking back the streets. It could be like we’re untouchable. You could be a hero with this, Ekko."

Ekko pushed himself off the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps toward them. He was always so composed, but there was a softness in his gaze that only came when they were alone, when the world wasn't watching. His fingers brushed lightly against their shoulder as he kneeled beside them, inspecting the device more closely.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" His voice was soft but filled with admiration. "You always come up with these crazy ideas, and... somehow, they almost always work. But this? This one’s on another level. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch you swinging around like a lunatic."

Y/N laughed, a teasing lilt in their voice. "You’re just scared you’ll get left behind. You know I can’t always be the one to keep your feet on the ground."

Ekko grinned, shaking his head. "Maybe. But I like to think of myself as a little more grounded. Someone has to keep you in check, after all."

Y/N smirked and leaned back, wiping their hands on a rag before standing up. "Check’s overrated. Besides, I’m not asking you to do the crazy stunts—just watch and be impressed. I need a reliable audience."

He raised an eyebrow, the playful challenge in his eyes matching theirs. "I’ll watch. But don’t expect me to join you up there. I’m not some stunt double."

"Fine, suit yourself." Y/N grinned and attached the grappling hooks to the wall, adjusting the straps around their waist one final time. They hit the power button on the device, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room, followed by a soft hum as the system powered up.

For a split second, everything was still.

Then, in a flash, they fired the hooks into the far wall with a controlled precision, their body jerking forward with an exhilarating rush. There was a moment of weightlessness, followed by the sudden jolt of the hooks holding fast. Y/N swung gracefully across the room, their feet briefly leaving the floor, their body suspended in mid-air like they were born for it. The air was cold against their skin, but the sensation was pure freedom—the kind of freedom they had been dreaming of.

Ekko’s heart raced as he watched them fly through the workshop, his mind not quite catching up with what he was seeing. Y/N twisted and looped in the air, soaring effortlessly like a bird in the wind. Their laughter rang out, filling the space as they glided, the motion so fluid it seemed unnatural, like they were part of the wind itself.

Ekko’s chest tightened with awe, but there was a spark of concern in his eyes. This was what they wanted, what they had been pushing toward. But now that he was watching it, there was something unsettling about it, too. The risk. The danger. He couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if something went wrong.

"Alright, alright," Ekko called out, voice laced with a mixture of amazement and reluctant admiration. "You were right. That’s... that’s pretty damn impressive."

Y/N gracefully swung back, the motion so smooth it looked like they had been doing it their whole life. They landed with a soft thud, their feet touching the ground as if they'd never left. "Told you. What did I say about leaving you in the dust?"

Ekko’s grin softened as he stepped closer, his expression tender, though still filled with that playful edge. "Just promise me you won’t get too carried away. I’d hate to see you crash into a building or something." He placed a hand on their shoulder, his thumb brushing over their skin with an unspoken affection.

Y/N’s eyes twinkled, and they turned to face him, leaning in just a little closer. "Oh, come on. You know I’ll always have a soft landing for you. It’s kind of my thing."

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze softened the motion. He stepped in front of them, a slight smirk on his lips. "Just make sure that soft landing isn’t me catching you mid-fall."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, there was only the sound of their shared laughter, a sweet, lighthearted sound that filled the room. Y/N could see the worry in his eyes, the way he wanted to protect them from every danger that came with the thrill. They stepped forward, resting a hand against his chest.

"I’ll be careful, Ekko. I promise." They whispered the words softly, and Ekko felt the weight of them. He could hear the sincerity in their voice, but he also knew that Y/N was never someone who could stand still. They would always push boundaries, always chase the next big idea.

"One day, Ekko," Y/N continued, their voice full of determination, "we’ll take this to the skies. Together. We’ll make the whole city see us."

Ekko’s heart swelled with affection for them. They had a fire in their eyes that could never be snuffed out. They weren’t just dreamers—they were visionaries. And though he worried, he also admired the hell out of them for it.

"Together," he echoed, his voice steady, his smile softer than before. The promise between them was real, unspoken but understood. Whatever came next, whatever risks they took, they would face them side by side.

And, with one last look at the gear—shiny and bold and full of potential—Ekko knew that, no matter how crazy it seemed, Y/N was always going to push the limits. And he would always be there to catch them, no matter how high they flew.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #ekko x reader

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