#service dog commands

[vixyz-aac-hoard]

Dog Commands (with text)

(Without text here!)

[aomiiine]

Capitano.

nsfw. mdni.

Since his face reveal is nowhere to be seen for now, I STRONGLY headcanon that he has the longest, nastiest monster tongue behind that mask. He uses it to his advantage with you, replacing his cock with it instead when he thinks you don’t deserve him thick girth. Though he says it’s a punishment, he knows his tongue alone makes you feel just as good—he’ll slither his tongue up your insides and probe your g-spot with side to side licks with the the sharp tip of it, making sure you feel him stretching you out. He probably eats you out for a good 5 minutes as a way to prep you up for his dick, letting his saliva lube your pretty hole for him</3

[cold-neon-ocean]

My dogs my beloved dogs!! The first line of beastial spirit vine soldiers from my LoK AU. Created by Baatar when during experimentation, he discovered the spirit energy after being condensed causes the vines to react strangely to machinery and processed material. Turning the inorganic to organic.

These soldiers are comprised of spirit vines that have mutated in reaction to the condensed activated spirit energy and adhered themselves to the suits. Similar to "mimics" in a way, they can conceal their mouths fully so they're indistinguishable from human soldiers, though very astute earthbenders may notice they neither breathe nor have a heartbeat.

[magnoliasforyourmedic]

Reincarnation AU where the boys of Easy Company coincidentally all attend the same university, probably somewhere on the east coast where most are local to. And they start to reunite and such, as you do in a reincarnation fic.

And Gene could be a transfer student from a different university looking for a fresh start, perhaps even switching majors. But maybe Gene has some lingering ptsd from his past life once he got his memories back, so he’s got a service dog—a black Labrador Retriever with fur that couldn’t be more opposite from the snow of Bastogne.

Things were going pretty alright until suddenly his service dog is trying to help someone Gene’s never met before through a panic attack that had been triggered by the mere sight of Gene. And this could be any of the men of Easy Company, either someone who survived or someone who didn’t because you know for a fact that Doc Roe was the last thing some of those men saw before they passed.

Of course that’d probably be the cue for the reunions that form the literal backbone of reincarnation AUs.

[kulvefaggoth]

Did you guys know there's a type of demon in the Bayonetta universe that are born when animals, normally pets like dogs or cats wander into hell and manage to survive long enough?

...anyway here's how Commander Biden can still win:

[too-many-blorbos]

[blondesforreagan]

this is the second Biden dog to have multiple attacks on people. First major, now Commander, both German Shepherds, a very trainable working breed. Nearly any other dog belonging to any other owner would never have 10 documented human bites without - sorry folks - euthanasia. In DC, for some reason politics comes in play with what happens to a biter. Delaware is a strict liability state for dog bites with an increasing level of fines from the first bite.

Having spent a lifetime with dogs, and having once been savaged, this utterly blows my mind - but on the other hand what do you expect with this family? The rules don't apply to themselves, their children, or their animals.

[vixyz-aac-hoard]

Dog Commands (without text)

(With text here!)

[deandoesthingstome]

Imagine being a reputable dog walker and having a last minute client added to your route with a note of urgency. Imagine knowing the company is getting triple-rate, not due to timing but rather the extra care required for the service, and that a predetermined (and genrous) tip was already waiting for you, too.

Imagine learning the initial behavior command to be stated upon entry, insistently identified as the "one thing you do not want to fuck up" since it's the only thing that will prevent bodily injury to you. Imagine the intricate and highly detailed, medically necessary feeding plan consisting of three separate course and plenty of ingredients to measure and mix ('no bone dry, over processed, burnt brown kibble for this magnificent beastie' you say to yourself as you tap through to the pet photo of what has to be the goodest boy ever) and list of walk cues that include "step" for the 14 year old, blind German Shepherd named Riley.

Imagine clocking the true the size of the dog ('ooh, beastie doesn't quite do it justice, does it?') whose initial measured snarling has quieted as you repeat the ally-introduction command to be sure he heard it before you stand still and wait for him to find you, sniffing around your shoes and pants and fingers as he scents the other animals you've walked already today. Imagine not having to bend at the waist at all to get your fingertips into the fluffy coat along his back for some hello scritches.

Imagine noting the meager furnishings in the one bedroom apartment. No wall art, one dining table chair, a well worn sofa with a milk crate in place of an end table, heavily pad-locked military trunk as coffee table, practically nothing in the fridge besides the non-shelf stable feeding ingredients. All in stark contrast to the Maserati of dog beds in the corner by the window, surrounded by a pile of chew toys. An expensive looking custom made crate along the other wall, next to a raised water and food bowl stand.

Imagine the chat from your employer as he asks almost as soon as you're done with the service if you're free to take the job on full time at twice your normal pay for the next week.

We've gone through six walkers already and cannot lose this new client. You're the only one who hasn’t immediately noped out after the intro walk and he's delayed returning from service.

Imagine meeting Riley's owner five days later when he returns home earlier than expected, just as you're cuing his best friend up the stairs at the end of your last walk of the day. Brain short circuiting as you calculate that 'yeah, this masked man is definitely Riley Riley's owner'. They do say pets and owners tend to end up looking alike.

[digiflora]

🌐 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 '𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘!

hsr men x f!reader .... SMUT!! 🚨🚨🚨

request ؛ ଓ @coreakin-sakarat What will the honkai star rail men play when yr having sex and who bottom or both and do they go rithm oh oh and do they use toys on u and what are their favorite parts of ur body to fuck

gia's notes ؛ ଓ i did this as more of me just... talkin abt what i think the hsr men are like in bed in order from least to most freaky in my humble opinion. i hope that you like it even though i didn't exactly hit every point u brought up :(

DAN HENG .ᐟ୨୧ starting it off sweet with him, i see dan heng as more of a bottom than anything... he's not super experienced, quite a tender lover, and i see him as remaining quite serious and stoic within the bedroom too. definitely more of a slow and sensual pace, just wants to feel it all with you <3 he's quite hesitant to try things out imo, but i reckon that you could convince him to try out using toys with some convincing! 1000% a thigh guy, really likes pulling out and painting your thighs with his cum as he watches them shake. presses kisses to your forehead as you come down from both of your highs. lowkey i get the vibe that the aftercare and the cuddling and falling asleep together is more satisfying to him than having sex. THIS MAN CRAVES SKIN TO SKIN!!!! he will interlace your fingers while fucking and kiss all over your face!!! a very sweet lover <3

GEPARD .ᐟ୨୧ this man SCREAMS pleasure service top to me. he could cum in his pants just by watching you i swear. he just wants to satisfy you as best as he can :((( your wish is his command frfr. he'll put you in whatever positions you want fully customisable experience just say the word. will sometimes pause midway through sex just to ask you if he's doing a good job and if it feels good with his big puppy dog eyes AWEE. i think he would probably be a little hesitant to try out toys, especially at first? his logic reverts to him assuming that he wasn't good enough at pleasuring you and so you have to revert to a piece of plastic... but be a bit dominant and show, don't tell, him just how good a vibrator can feel and he'll be a lot more on board with the idea <3 his whole mentality is just.. do anything to give you pleasure so if you're on the freakier side, this man is game! (PEG HIM) the little sadistic side of you gets a kick seeing tears well up in his eyes if you edge him just to hear his whines and moans... he might be a top but this man is a sub thru and thru. a bad bitch (you) tells him what to do and he listens!! anyways back to when you and him are fucking... this man is just utterly in love with your pussy, they way it gushes and clenches around him, and his absolute favourite position is any where he gets to just bury his face in ur tits while he's buried inside of you because everything is just so comforting and all of him is now surrounded by something so warm and soft... he's in heaven <3 so yeah he's a tits guy who would have thought!! no matter the shape or size HE'S PUTTING THEM IN HIS MOUTH <3 his thrusts get real sloppy at the end when he's about to cum too, starts babbling in your ear about how good it feels and how much he loves u. what a cutie pie

ARGENTI .ᐟ୨୧ to be honest? i had to think a bit about this one. to me, argenti doesn't really seem like the type to bring up using toys... but that doesn't mean that he isn't game if you mention it. he seems ... not passive exactly? but he just seems like the type to go with the flow with sex. whatever you're into he'll just be like shit i'm down let's go. not kinky per se, but he's definitely a passionate lover. very much wants to explore sensuality. ooh maybe he would be into some sort of wax play or blindfold type behaviour i take it back. would probably chuckle if you decide to get on top and place his hands on your hips to help you adjust to his size and set your own pace <3 very loving, wants to celebrate the beauty of your naked body and worship it in the name of adrila. so yeah if you've got a praise kink, HE'S YOUR MAN!!! you feel like the subject of a poem as he sings your praises, telling you how pretty you look and sound when you cum. like shiiiii that would be enough to make me blush <33 in terms of pace and stuff, i feel like he would be pretty standard? maybe on the slower side because of... you know... passion. it's nothing crazy but still a good time. he seems like he prefers to be looking up at you so RIDE THAT MAN!! maintain eye contact as you sink down on it. raise your hips back up ever so slowly and watch the slightest twitch of his brow as you swivel your hips, sinking back down on it ever so slowly. you might just see him blush. and just as the name suggests, the knight of beauty is a SIGHT to behold when he cums (probably inside).

WELT .ᐟ୨୧ yeah peepaw has got some EXPERIENCE to him lmaoo. he's got a sort of... cheekier? side to him. as an older man, though, he doesn't exactly have the same stamina as he did in his youth :( but that doesn't mean that he can't still get down and dirty with you!! quite the opposite actually. so his solution? he uses toys on you <3 he's more of a bottom but he is DEFINITELY in charge. his dirty talk OMFGG im giggling just thinking about it he would praise you and whisper such sweet words to you as he slowly splits you open on his fat cock, telling you how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, how you feel so good around him, all so he can feel you clench around him like a vice grip as he finally bottoms out <33 def would just have his hands around your waist as he moves you up and down his length when you're feeling weightless. but if he's in a more passive mood, he also LOVESSSS just sitting back and watching you struggle to ride him with a lazy adoring look in his eyes as he holds a vibrator to your clit <333 he'll coo at you as you start crying from the overstimulation, his hands wiping away your tears so tenderly and encouraging you to keep going just for him <3 a little bit of a sadistic side to him because he really does just love watching you squirm. another thigh and ass guy imo, really loves the way they jiggle as they slam down against his own thighs as you start to pick up the pace and ride him with increasing desperation. also loves watching them shake when you cum <3. so yeah as a no brainer i think one of his favourite positions would be reverse cowgirl. yum <3

BOOTHILL .ᐟ୨୧ now dont get me wrong this man FUCKS. since he's a cyborg does his dick count as a toy...? yeah fuck it let's go with it HIS BIOCOCK VIBRATES!! so the sensations on that will go CRAZYYYY. and then i'm thinking because of his synthesia beacon and stuff he doesn't exactly experience much sensation down there. so when you're having sex, what gets him off the most is just seeing your pleasure as you unravel. makes him feel good vicariously <3 so yeah definitely a missionary lover in my eyes so he can watch all your facial expressions and reactions as he hits all the right places, how your brows furrow and your eyes slide shut and eyes roll back in your head as he keeps up his unforgiving pace at juuuuust the right angle <33 but don't get me wrong he's no vanilla bitch either!! if he wants to be feeling more ... sensations he can and will make you just sit on his face for actual HOURS just eating you out to his heart's content. you'd think that his tongue is cybernetic too with the way it flicks across your clit at a borderline INHUMAN speed. but no he's just that good. some of ur most intense orgasms have been from him tonguefucking you like this, his head firmly sandwiched between your quivering thighs as you're basically humping his face as u ride out your high. and hey, he's not complaining <3 and then his smug shit-eating grin does NOT help at all when you're still trying to come back down to earth and he's sitting up wiping the slick off his face with that hungry look STILL in his eyes good lord i hope u can survive the night. this bastard has definitely ruined toys for you, they just don't feel the same any more <//3

BLADE .ᐟ୨୧ fucks hard. angry and/or jealous sex with him has just gotta be >>> 😮‍💨😮‍💨 he's on the rougher side and for MOST of the time will dom. and also tbh i don't really see him as being the type to use toys since he's more spontaneous in terms of having sex (public sex. he's got a high sex drive) but very very passionate for sure- lots of grunts and low moans right up in ur ear mhhhnrng. but also at the same time i feel like he would be quite emotionally detached from sex at first, seeing it as more like stress relief than an act of intimacy? and don't get me wrong, some of the best fucks of your life have come from him when he's just trying to release some pent up anger, but on the flip side there's a more vulnerable side to him, almost. one that's barely there any more from years of bitterness and resentment, but still manages to creep up on him on those late nights where he can't quite sleep. so if you're with him on those rare occasions, this is when you experience him not fucking you, but making LOVE. he won't talk, but he doesn't need to, not with the way he's holding you close to him and kissing you with something akin to desperation as he sinks into you and kind of just... stays there for a bit. it's oddly comforting to him, and if he's feeling especially weak he'll need some comfort- just to get him through the night. it's these nights where you take control more, setting a slow and sweet pace and kind of just... hushing him and whispering sweet words to him as you slowly let yourself grind over him, feeling the way he twitches inside of u <333 but yeah back to not vulnerable blade. a fan of quickies for sureeee (see: high sex drive) another tit guy because i am biased. the force of his thrusts in some dark alleyway or hidden corner will have them jiggling and threatening to fall out of whatever shirt you wear. and if he's got you lifted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as you're chest to chest with each other, he just can't tear his eyes away from your boobs. leaves bites on them, laves over them like a damn dog until they're coated in saliva and stiff and perked up because of how cold it feels when drying on your skin. if you're in doggystyle, you'll feel his hands clasp over them from behind, a few short and sweet squeezes to them before his blunt nails are flicking over your nipples just to hear you squeal <3

AVENTURINE .ᐟ୨୧ just like blade, he very much has two different modes. let's start with the freaky one bc that's fun. he's quite open to experiment with all aspects of sex- who's in charge, who's topping, toys, positions, you name it. he trusts you enough to do anything with or to you short of causing each other pain. so yeah he's a freak alright!! i feel like if you're in an established relationship, he'll feel guilty due to the amount if time that he spends away from you because of his job, and make it up to you by spoiling you with gifts... he loves to buy you new toys to try out as he sits back and just watches as you squirm and then writhe in pleasure as he slowly palms himself, eventually unzipping his trousers and jerking himself off until he cums all over u <33 definitely gets a kick out of seeing his cum painting your pretty face and how your tongue darts out to catch it before it drips onto the floor <333 or maybe he just strokes himself to stay hard, his eyes hungrily watching you as your own remain transfixed on his cock, the flushed tip disappearing with every stroke of his hand, the slick noises of his precum overpowering the buzzing hum of the dildo inside of you. and then when neither of you can handle the tension any more, dying to feel each other's touch, after you've cum a couple of times and are all nice and sensitive for him, then and ONLY then will he finally put it in, quickly setting a pace to fuck your brains out like a wild animal <3 lovessss doggystyle or the speedbump position because then he's all up in your guts and ur moans/screams of pleasure are just music to his ears. definitely the type to go a little feral bc... yeah. so yeah that's freaky mode! but like blade he has a softer side to him UNLIKE blade it is still definitely there and more accessible... but that doesn't mean he exposes it to you just like that either. but yeah if he's feeling more vulnerable emotionally, especially right after he wakes up from a nightmare while you're groggily waking up next to him, he just needs comfort. you holding him and stroking his hair, telling him how he's safe and how much you love him. if you've been together for a while and he really trusts you, he might even cry. almost begs you to call him kakavasha instead of aventurine, and you oblige. and then as soon as his name leaves your lips, he's kissing you hard, gradually letting them become tender as you undress each other with the utmost amount of care. it's love that motivates him, from what you can feel from his fingers tracing your skin and how soft his lips press against yours. he lets out a quiet moan as he sinks into you and basks in your warmth for a bit, letting his arms now wrap around your frame tightly, holding you to himself as if you would disappear any moment. and you hug him too, draw patterns on his back, stroke his hair and hum as you tell him how much you love him, listening to the sound of his shaky breaths as you slowly raise your hips, sinking back down inch by inch to hear him hiss. at first, he would still refuse to let you see his face when you have sex like this, not until you gently coax him to look at you, and you see the crystalline tears already escaping from his eyes. he's definitely the type to cry during sex like this- something so soft and tender that it's overwhelming to him for so many reasons- the vulnerability of it all, how much you love and care for him written all over your face, the way you squeeze against him so perfectly. and then he buries his face in your chest as you keep whispering words of affirmation to him and he cums so fast, deep inside of you and then he stays even when he feels himself go soft. just because it feels nice. and he falls asleep just like that, clinging to you, the person he loves.

JING YUAN .ᐟ୨୧ another member of team lazy but pussydrunk (him and welt have permanent memberships lmfao) whenever the two of you fuck it usually starts with him making you work for it. involving either you getting off by grinding on his thigh or riding him, desperately throwing your weight back onto him to even simulate the feeling of his powerful thrusts- all in vain as he merely sits there, looking up at you with a maddening smile and just WATCHING you... what a creep <3 but yeah he loves loves loves seeing how worked up and whiny you get for him to do something, anything, just for him to do the exact opposite, placing two firm hands on your hips to effectively get you to stop, and you whine again from the loss of friction. and he'll merely smile, telling you how you're such a good girl for him, getti my off from watching you get so so close, just to do it over and over again. orgasm denial and edging really are his two best friends fr. so he's not really a strict dom but more of a tease, you get me? i think that YES he will use toys. really gets a kick out of vibrating panties or a vibrator inside of you that he can remote control <33 just really enjoys when you're in public trying to remain composed (what a creep <3) keeps u constantly stimulated all day, finally making it up to you when you both get back home, fucking you properly as you're on the verge of tears and ready to cum any second. hmmm hear me out on this but i think his favourite place to cum would be your back.. like yeah finishing inside is cool and all but pulling out and cumming all over your back just drives him CRAZY and ready for another round... as soon as you recover <3

LUOCHA .ᐟ୨୧ LORDDDDDD he's like jing yuan but even WORSE. he's dangerous too because in his eyes, it isn't him or a toy but him AND a toy. this man will have u in his lap thighs spread legs hanging over his knees so he can keep them open as he has one hand gripping your chin forcing to look at yourself in a mirror, the other hand holding a vibe to yr clit <33 every time your eyes start to roll back he'll do a light slap to your face, forcing you to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, his feline eyes dancing with mirth at your already fucked-out expression. and then when he's sure that his gaze is holding your attention, he'll let go of your face, letting his hand snaie downwards until his hands are collecting your slick on his fingers before pushing into you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek that contradicts how hard he's fingering you <3 squirting is not an achievement but the new standard with him!! that man is NOT relenting until you coat his arm and the floor (even the mirror) he really likes making you kiss him just after you cum- when your brain is foggy from the intensity of your orgasm, you can barely hear, let alone process what he's saying, and when u finally manage to connect your lips to his the kiss is just so sweet n sloppy, showing how worked up he is already <33 he's a little mean with it but you wouldn't have it any other way!! because that man knows what you need and will DELIVER. and he loves alllll of you. especially your pussy. and ass lol

DR RATIO .ᐟ୨୧ ok stay with me now cos this one's more of a scenario but!!! imagine that you haven't seen veritas in a while because you've both been busy but he messages you, saying how he'll finally be back soon!!! and ur just so excited that you can't contain it, and all those lonely nights are starting to tally up... your hands just don't do the trick any more and you finally cave, getting out your old reliable dildo to try and satiate your lust. trying your hardest to focus on veritas while you fuck yourself so that you'll be able to cum... pretending that it's his cock instead of some silicone... moaning out his name into your room with your eyes screwed shut to try trick your brain into believing that it's really him!! and it seems to work because you can feel that coil in you begin to tighten, and just when ur about to cum you feel a hand on top of yours, startling you out of your impending orgasm. and you open your eyes to see none other than the man who you had been fantasising about just now <3 and he's got this smirk on his face and a certain look in his eyes, and when you glance down you can see that he isn't exactly... unaffected from watching you earlier <33 i feel like he would degrade you a little, calling you such a stupid girl for needing to think of him just to even get close to cumming <333 and you'll whine and get embarrassed, trying to hide yourself with the covers, but deep down you know he's right so you peek at him from behind your lashes, batting them and begging him to help you as sweetly as you can. and how can he deny you when you're just so sweet and submissive for him? he'll be quick to take out his cock, slipping the head through your folds, letting it catch as it skims past your needy hole, letting the tip slap against your sensitive clit just to watch your whole body twitch as he chuckles to himself before bullying his cock into you. even after fucking yourself it's still a stretch, especially cos he has you in a mating press, his strong hands keeping your thighs pinned as he puts hisbweight behind his thrusts, really slamming into you until you're bouncing back against the mattress <33 a good hard fuck that hits all the right spots he needs to in order for you to cum HARD. but if he's feeling mean, he won't even oblige your request, instead being all smug and settling back on his haunches, goading you to keep going and make yourself cum without him because you're just so close, you can do it. watches your pathetic attempts to do so as you huff and beg him because you just can't without him <//3 and maybe if you beg hard enough he'll consider helping you out... even though it's just so entertaining to watch you keep trying. ironically enough, it's the way he calls you his sweet girl as he finally pushes into you that sends you over the edge more than any of your own touches did. and once you ride out that high, body no longer convulsing on his dick, he'll pull out of you just to flip you onto your stomach, then pull your hips up to meet his before fucking into you to make you really cum because of him this time <33

SAMPO .ᐟ୨୧ this man is MOST DEFINITELY an experimentalist!!! 1000% down for literally anything. you use toys on each other el oh el. the epitome of a switch. he'll top or bottom too, it's always a good time with him. definitely a freak. tbh i headcanon him as having a crazy oral fixation... if he's not sucking on your tits already then put your fingers in his mouth!! he'll have hearts swimming in his eyes, especially if you let them slide to the back of his throat until he gags and his eyes get all teary!!! definitely a sight to behold if u start fingerfucking his throat. or maybe just gag him with your panties, letting urself hear his muffled whines and moans as you finally free his cock and deepthroat him <33 oh god his whines and moans... get this man on twitter NEEOOOWWW. as a top he's definitely more goofy about it, not super strict. sex is about making sure you both feel good and just having a good time im his eyes.

GALLAGHER .ᐟ୨୧ ... this man... a certified freak. me personally im not into it but IF U LIKE ANAL THIS IS UR GUY 1000%%%. he def loves ur ass more than anything. the type to stick a finger in as he makes out with you or just let his finger tease the ring of muscle, circling it ever so slowly to feel u squirm while sat naked in his lap. when he eats you out he'll let his tongue drop a little lower to tease both of your holes. if u let him he'll eat your ass with GUSTO. and YES he's using toys on you you're not safe... buttplugs with the cute jewel on them and when you're in public he'll give your ass a slap or squeeze just to see your face change as you feel it press a little deeper into you... he'll have a vibrator fucking into your pussy as he's all up in your guts, laughing at the way you can't even form words right now. yeahhh he's a FREAK. oh and did i mention that he's an ass guy??

SUNDAY .ᐟ୨୧ ohohoho. this man has actual YEARS of pent up sexual frustration under his belt. his wings. whatever. he's a man who thrives off of control, and this is no exception in the bedroom. massive dom. both soft and hard. but more hard <3. really gets off on u calling him sir LAWLLL. lowkey i see him being into some real freaky bdsm stuff... cos hes got the whole sexually repressed catholic thing going on n all yknow. likes seeing u kneeled w your hands tied behind your back. you stripped naked while hes fully clothed and smiling so sweetly as he watches you try and get yourself off by humping his shoe. anything for that power imbalance with him hrrrrng. and if youre feeling a bit more bratty, touch his wings. preen them, blow air on them, even grip onto them HARD with your fingers and it'll get him all riled up. and then that sweet smiling facade will drop and youll see his eyes change into something a touch more feral as he pins u down and fucks u hard and properly. just to remind u who's really in control <3. the aftercare goes crazy, naturally. but then i also saw this post talking abt how hes a PEOPLE PLEASER and i agree 10000% so when he's feeling more soft, your pleasure is his greatest reward. a headrush mix of sweet praise and filthy degradation. telling you how you're a nasty bitch who's just so good for him... how you take him so well like the filthy slut you are.... and he's just so so composed during it all like an ANGEL EHFHWJFJE it makes ur head spin istg. yeah he's a freak in the sheets LOLL

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ...... eat it 'til your teeth rot!

[ SMUT ] how the hsr men eat pussy!

alternatively, find my hsr masterlist here! ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

[eclec-tech]

Wolffe is just as gruff in this as you'd expect, but he's also exactly the right level of good guy to counteract it. I love it so far! 🎬🐺✨

Cross Your Thoughtless Heart: Chapter 1

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/original female character

General summary: Isla Tilney is just trying to make enough money to work as an actor full-time, without constantly falling back on a variety of odd jobs just to make it happen. So, if that means playing the lead in a cheesy made for TV Christmas film to move her career along, well, she’s decided that a job is a job at this point. But when she finds out she’s been cast opposite the notoriously indifferent, yet somehow still up-and-coming Wolffe Fett, she discovers that reputations, as defining as they can be, don’t always precede the person that’s hidden beneath, nor can they predict the love, the connection that a person is capable of forming, if one is only brave enough to reach out. The question is, though, is she?

Fic rating: explicit: (18+, minors DNI)

General warnings: modern AU, actors AU, disability, blindness, themes of ableism, familial issues, explicit sexual content. For a more comprehensive list of warnings, check the Masterlist

Chapter specific warnings: Alcohol consumption, parties, anxiety

Chapter word count: 6 K

Thank you to @estrelinha-s for all dividers on this fic.

Read on ao3

“So...”

Isla’s voice carries a slight echo within the underground parking lot, accompanied by the quiet slam of the front passenger door as she rises and gets out of her friend's vehicle.

“How long do you reckon we’ll have to hang around before it’s socially acceptable for us to ditch?”

“I thought you were feeling optimistic about this,” Deli remarks, turning to face her with her arms folded across her chest. “Weren’t you saying this could be an, and I quote, ‘opportunity to network with people’?”

“I am feeling optimistic,” Isla shrugs, stepping out from behind the car to meet her friend's piercing gaze. “About when we get to go home,” she adds, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“You’re infuriating,” Deli sighs, but there’s a note of fondness in her voice, the tiniest hint of a laugh that she can’t quite conceal no matter how hard she tries.

“Oh, please,” Isla scoffs as with a fluid flick of her wrist, she unfolds her cane, listening for the satisfying snap as its pieces click together, feeling the gentle thump as its marshmallow tip comes in contact with the ground. “You love me.”

She pauses, taking an extra moment to adjust, reacquainting herself with the feeling of the grip of her hand on the cane's handle. She’s out of practice with these things, she knows, and would much prefer to have Oli guiding her tonight. But he’s getting older, and though he’s not even close to needing to actually retire from working yet, large gatherings, functions, and parties like these stress him out, and they aren’t as easy for him to get through as they used to be. 

What can she say, really? Oliver is ditching the parties in favour of becoming a proper senior citizen which, in the grand scheme of things, feels only natural. Plus, she can count the total number of parties she’s attended in the last three years on one hand, so, all in all, this isn’t a huge inconvenience to her. At least, that’s what she tells herself despite her unease, because for the most part, it is true. Just because she’s out of practice doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to wield a cane, and with some assistance in these kinds of crowds, she should physically be able to manage fine.

Still, it feels off-putting to not have Oliver walking along beside her. Everything, from the way his harness gently pulls against her hand to the steady, assured way his gait feels as he guides her, all confidence and eagerness to please, contributes to making her feel safe.

The long, white cane she holds in her hand at this moment, despite her many jokes about threatening to use it as a weapon, doesn’t even come close to giving her that.

The result, at this present moment, leaves her unsettled and off-balance. But, at least for Deli’s sake, she does her best to shrug and shake it off. 

You’re fine, she feudally attempts to reassure herself. It’s just a party. You’ve done this all before, and you’ve survived every single one.

Granted, considering that one of her most prominent childhood memories is of bawling her eyes out in the bathroom of a school dance because everything was loud and overstimulating to her, and she didn’t then have the words to express any of it to her parents, only begging and whimpering on the phone line for them to please, please come pick her up, the thought doesn’t reassure her nearly as much as it should.

“Ready?” Deli asks, turning to offer Isla an arm.

She blinks, startled away from that discomforting line of thinking and mentally berating herself for it. 

The parking lot is dark, and Isla really doesn’t have the patience to pull her cane out from where it will inevitably get caught on the side of a car wheel, so with a nod, she gratefully accepts, slipping her hand through the crook of Deli’s proffered elbow.

“I’m ready,” she says, summoning her brightest smile despite the uneasy twinge that flutters in her stomach just as it does every time she’s willingly about to enter a large, loud, and chaotic party such as this one. “Let’s go...network.”

———

The word networking, in this case, is always said with an unmistakable ounce of dry sarcasm, because when it comes down to it, everybody knows that networking during these events is just a cover-up used to coax the introverted and the anxious, such as Isla, into attending a glorified afterparty for a film’s premiere.

This isn’t even a premier for a movie that Isla herself is in, which actually takes a lot of the pressure off of her shoulders. She’s attending as Deli’s plus one, so really all she has to do is show up and be supportive, which despite her nerves surrounding the environment, she’s happy to do for the most part.

Deli, or Delilah, as she’s known to all who aren’t a part of her inner circle, has been Isla’s best friend since middle school, where constant laughter and remarks of “Hey, look! It’s Isla and Delilah!” forced a necessary change to a nickname that has stuck for almost 14 years. Now the name Delilah is only reserved for strangers and strictly professional acquaintances.

Deli is, for the most part, a screenwriter. But she also has a knack for script supervising, so for smaller, independent productions like this one, she sometimes takes on that role as well to make some extra cash.

Isla, conversely, has no other secret talent like that, which is a shame, because working in the entertainment industry is already not the most solid of career paths. But being blind, or being disabled in any way really, adds a whole other layer of complication to it. Being able to do something like write, direct, or produce is often viewed as an asset, because the more versatile your skill set, the more chances you have at finding work in an ever-elusive, ever-changing industry.

Unfortunately for her though, she doesn’t consider herself to have those kinds of smarts, and so she’s just a lowly actor with large gaps in between gigs who is currently riding on the waning success of a film that she did almost a year ago, in which she only had a small part. But it received enough accolades and attention from a well-known film festival that here, at an industry function with a small red carpet at the entrance, she’s been asked to step up, pose, and get her picture taken in front of the backdrop. 

This part, she doesn’t particularly mind. 

Wearing this blue, knee-length dress makes her feel like some whimsical fairytale princess with the way it gently swishes around her legs, flaring out in a satisfying rustle of fabric if she were ever to twirl around. Her heels aren’t high, but grant her the smallest bit of elevation that makes her feel a little less short than she really is. Her hair—light brown but in a way that if she were to catch a glimpse of it in different lighting, she might incorrectly assume that it’s a darker shade of blonde or red thanks to her vision’s inability to distinguish certain colours that aren’t deeply contrasting—falls down her shoulders in waves. Deli had helped her do her makeup, which she only knows the very basics of at best.

Isla, despite her lack of knowledge when it comes to makeup, is still a girly girl at heart. She enjoys getting dolled up and feeling pretty like this, because outside of these kinds of events, she doesn’t often feel like she is particularly pretty at all. 

So, she takes what she can get. 

She smiles for the cameras and lets Deli lead her around the party and introduce her to various cast and crew members, offering up her most enthusiastic greetings even though, privately, she’s struggling. The music is pounding loudly in her ears, and it’s taking all of her energy to stay calm and focused, let alone bother to hear what anyone is actually saying to her.

Why so many people enjoy this kind of scene, she really doesn’t know. It’s loud and unruly, and she feels like she can barely communicate anything past a quick hello.

Still, they make their rounds, and once that is done, Deli scopes out a more out-of-the-way corner, where they hurry to claim the small couch and sit down together. 

“Do you want a drink?” Deli asks, leaning close so that she can be heard over the crowd and music.

“No, I’m good,” Isla says, giving her head a shake.

Blindness and alcohol already make for a combination that some would find amusing, but she just finds it unnerving. The loss of control, the inhibition of her already questionable orientation skills when she’s surrounded by this rowdy of an environment makes her unsettled, and Deli knows this. But she always asks anyway, just in case her friend is feeling reckless or bold.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Deli chirps, raising up the flute of champagne she had grabbed on the way inside.

Isla nods her head, noncommittal as she fidgets distractedly. 

“Oh.” Deli’s voice exhales in a soft sigh, quickly pulling her out of her thoughts. “Wolffe is here.”

Isla straightens, searching the crowd with curiosity even though she knows that with the dim lighting combined with her already limited vision, she doesn’t stand a chance of catching even a glimpse of him through the thickening mass of people.

“The same Wolffe I’ve heard you call standoffish and always grumpy?” she asks, tilting her head in recognition.

“The very same,” she agrees, setting her champagne down on the small table in front of her. “I shouldn’t say that, really. Our interactions have been very limited but I just...he just seems...”

Isla nods her head, her sharp memory latching onto the various things she’s heard. Deli had worked on a low-budget, independent horror production with only seven measly days to shoot the whole thing. Wolffe, or Wolffe Fett, as he’s known professionally, was cast to play one of the leads, and as such, Isla, holding the status of having best-friend privileges whenever Deli would call her to rant about the project, has heard many, many things about everyone on that set—who’s lovely to work with, who pisses her off the most, and for some reason, it’s Wolffe and all of the passing things she’s heard about him that stick out most prominently in her mind. 

Just from memory, she recalls Deli telling her that he doesn’t really show an interest in any of the people he’s working with on set. That he’s a good actor, a great one, actually, but he lacks the endearing, charming charisma that is desired in favourable male performers. All in all, he sounds like the type of person Isla would feel awkward around at the very least, if not outright uncomfortable. Still, Deli is brushing off her dress, taking one last sip of her drink before glancing back down at where she’s still sitting.

“I should probably say hi before all the girls start crowding around him,” she says, as if she’s trying to talk herself into it and rolling her eyes. “Wanna come?”

Ah yes. One of the other things Isla has discerned is that despite his seeming disinterest in it all, his presence is quite in demand with everyone but especially the ladies. One of those people, she thinks, unable to resist her own eye roll. Probably a player, probably leading a string of girls on by their perfectly manicured fingers without even having to try.

She decides right now that she’s not interested in any of it. 

“And risk us losing our spots on this couch?” Isla smirks, shaking her head, languidly stretching out and letting her heels rest on the low table in front of her, an arm behind her head. “I’m good.”

“Well, I shouldn’t take too long,” she says, cradling her drink once more. “Remember what I look like?”

To anyone else, this question would sound ridiculous or absurd. But to Isla, it’s a system that the two of them have worked out when going out to parties, because if they get separated, especially in a place where they might not be able to hear their phones, it’s sometimes easier to ask a kind stranger to help Isla find Deli again...which isn’t easy for them to do if she can’t provide an adequate physical description of her. With her having only the most short term of visual memories, verbally memorizing a brief physical description is oftentimes much more reliable.

“Uh...red dress with a thigh slit, about five feet three with short brown hair and green eyes?” she asks, biting on her lip.

“You got it,” Deli says, giving her a quick thumbs up. “I’m sure I’ll be right back.”

And indeed, within minutes, she is, dropping down onto the couch beside her with an audible sigh and turning her eyes up towards the ceiling. 

“Was it worth it?” Isla asks, turning to face her with a knowing grin.

“Ah yes,” Deli says sarcastically, throwing her head back and downing the rest of her champagne in one before setting the empty glass back down on the table. “The conversation was positively enthralling.”

She’s interrupted from saying more when someone approaches, ambling over to the quiet corner and looking at the two of them like they’re on a mission. 

“I’m a photographer with The Living Film magazine doing coverage for this event,” he says by way of an introduction, a camera tucked securely beneath his arm. “You’re Isla Tilney, right?” At her small nod, he continues. “We’ve set up a small scene where we are taking pictures of guests, and I was wondering if you’d like to pose for one real quick.”

“Sure,” she says slowly, sending an uncertain glance towards Deli.

“I’ll come with you,” Deli says quickly, easily reading her discomfort. 

Well…that’s settled then.

He leads the two of them through the crowd all the way to the other side of the room. There’s a small setup there with an ornate, fancy-looking arm chair surrounded by candles, and Deli guides her through the tangled mess of wires and lighting equipment to get to it. Once she is situated, directed to pose prettily whilst sitting on the chair, her hands folded in her lap and a tiny smile on her lips, Deli backs off, quietly saying to her that she’ll wait until she’s done, and then she’ll come and get her.

But once the picture has been taken, once she’s back on her feet and her eyes are nervously scanning her surroundings, Deli doesn’t materialize.

Swallowing nervously, she spares one last glance around her before raising her voice above the din to speak to her photographer.

“Would you be able to help me get around the equipment?” she asks, and he readily agrees.

Annoyingly, he takes her by the wrist, awkwardly leading her through the maze of box lights and cords. Right now though, she’s too on edge to say anything or correct him on the techniques of proper guiding, because without Deli, the music rings louder and more oppressively in her ears with every step, her anxiety sparking, making her heartbeat pick up speed and jump within her chest. 

Once she’s clear, she expects to find her waiting, but again, Deli isn’t there, and by the time she turns to her photographer, he’s already gone. 

Oh...well that’s not ideal.

The music changes to something full of drums and heavy bass. She must be close to a speaker, because she swears she can feel it rattling all of the bones in her chest. She immediately doesn’t like it, suddenly finding the room too warm, her lungs finding it harder to draw in a calming breath of air. Fumbling and uncoordinated, she retrieves her folded cane from where she’s stored it in her bag, trying to release the string that holds it together with shaky hands.

She can’t hear anything. 

“Your ears are your eyes,” or so she had been told from very early childhood onward, because when you’re blind, your hearing is the more trustworthy source of information by comparison. So what do you do when they, too, aren’t able to work properly?

It’s too dark here. She can’t...she can’t see… 

Anything.

It happens so fast. First she’s standing alone, her eyes frantic and confused as she finally feels her cane unfold in front of her. Then, she blinks, and a crowd is surrounding her—all loud, boisterous voices with drunk undertones, yelling, pushing, shoving, until all she can do is shove back because she feels trapped. She feels suffocated and terrified, and really do none of them see her? 

A hand catches hers, pulling her forward, tugging her from the worst of the fray, and she realizes with a sense of relief that’s so blissfully all-consuming that indeed, someone has seen her, and maybe, just maybe, she might be safe with them.

“Everybody, back up.”

His voice is loud, intent, cutting through the heavy bass of the music and the overwhelming bustle of the crowd. At first, she stupidly wonders if she should be skittering out of the way too. The mass of bodies quickly begins to thin out into something much less stampede-like, the timbre of the ringing voice carrying, prompting the group to separate, scattering away like fearful ants from a large, threatening shoe that is poised to descend.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” he calls, his tone still loud and gruff, but losing its prior warning edge. “That alright?”

Swallowing and finding that her words, for the moment, have been lost to adrenaline, she can only nod her head. Pausing, he hesitates, his hands uselessly fluttering around her shoulders, almost as if he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to proceed. Trying not to show her irritation as she reluctantly forces herself to pull in a slow, re-centering breath of air through her tightly clenched teeth, she prepares to tell him—though she’s really not sure how she’ll manage with her mind as rattled and scattered as it is—that attempting to guide a blind person whilst also pushing them by the shoulders and making them walk in front of you like that isn’t safe, nor is it convenient for either party.

To her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, much quieter as he leans close to her and offers out his elbow. “Just been a while since I’ve done this.”

She blinks, both confused and intrigued as she switches to hold her cane in her right hand. 

What does that mean? She wonders. He couldn’t be referring to his own, past, personally lived experiences with blindness, surely. Perhaps a close family member, a parent, a sibling, or a partner? That, she decides, seems a lot more likely. 

But hell, she internally shrugs as she takes hold of his elbow and he begins to guide her forward, barking not-so-polite orders at people to get out of the way. She can feel how much taller he is than she, how his gait is quick, confident, and assured. Regardless of what he has, or hasn’t lived through at this point, he definitely has more vision and spatial awareness than she does, and at present, she decides that those things are enough for her.

———

She knows logically that letting a stranger take her somewhere, especially when said stranger is a man and especially when she’s by herself like this is, in hindsight, not the smartest idea. 

However, the street that they exit onto once the doors of the party venue are pushed open is busy, alive with nightlife and traffic, so really, on a case-by-case basis, this is about as safe as she can get. Besides, her heart is still pounding, its erratic beat only now beginning to slow now that the overwhelmingly loud volume of the music has faded to a muffled, almost imperceptible beat from afar once the doors are closed, creating a solid barrier, holding the noise at bay. 

She lets out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall as her body’s adrenaline now gives way to shaking and shivering as she pulls her arms tightly around herself. It’s mid-June, and the weather is, for the most part, warm and pleasant, at least through the day. But once the sun sets, the cold can still be surprisingly biting, even on one of the more mild nights like this one. 

However, she begins to think that her shuddering and her skin breaking out into goosebumps may not really have anything to do with the weather at all. She’s safe, she tries to reason, her shaking hands clenching into tight fists, blunt nails biting into the skin of her palms. She’s out of there. She hopes futilely that the pain might bring her back, sharpen her sense of reality so that she can at least control her shaking limbs.

It doesn’t actually do anything to help, except now her hands hurt...great.

“You uh...have someone you can call?” the man, she still hasn’t caught his name, cautiously asks as he loiters in the doorway. When she glances up at him, suddenly pulled from her tangled mess of thoughts, he steps forward and she swallows, nodding her head mutely. 

Now that she’s outside, now that she can finally breathe again, her thoughts are becoming less muddled, the most predominant one of them being that she’s just made a complete fool of herself and that she doesn’t want to be any more of an inconvenience to this helpful stranger than she already has been.

“Yeah,” she says, reaching up to distractedly run her fingers through her hair as she nods. “Yeah I’ll just…”

She fumbles, attempting to unzip her bag one-handed. Sighing exasperatedly, she quickly begins to fold up her cane, preparing to set it down on the ground so that she can retrieve her phone from her purse.

“Here,” the stranger calls, using his hand to tap on something that’s several steps ahead of her to her left. “There’s a bench.”

She follows the sound, reaching out a hand to search for it in the darkness. Blindness is tricky in general, but her night blindness has been a particularly stressful challenge that she’s been dealing with ever since she was a child, and she still doesn’t feel entirely confident navigating around even places that are familiar to her once the sun has gone down. 

Finding that her fingers only come into contact with the brush of the cool air, she bites down on her lip and is about to tell him that it doesn’t matter and give up completely when his hand, large and calloused, is gently pressing against the back of hers, guiding it until, with a gentle thump, it comes to rest on the bench’s hard metal surface, in retrospect not that far off from where she had already been searching.

“Really? That close?” she mutters, dropping down to sit on the bench with a dissatisfied and embarrassed groan, her cheeks beginning to heat. “God, I'm so stupid sometimes.”

She’s self-aware enough to know that this is an unfair, and for the most part untrue, blanket statement. She’s blind, so naturally she has a harder time finding things like this, especially when it’s dark outside. But still, the impulse to self-deprecate, especially in front of someone who’s being even a little nice to her so that they don’t get the idea that she’s too abnormal and/or helpless, is habitual, and she doesn’t really have the energy to fight the pull of it now.

“You’re not.”

The tone of his voice is suddenly hardened, losing any trace of the prior awkwardness it held  mere seconds ago. She blinks, pulling up short, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she finds him now close and leaning over her with his arms crossed.

She still finds it too dark to distinguish much of his prominent features, but somehow she can just feelthe way that his eyes hold onto hers, and is it her imagination, or does one of them actually gleam slightly in the darkness?

Attempting to suppress a shiver, she turns away, setting her bag in her lap and beginning to undo the zipper with still-cold and trembling hands. 

She’s so preoccupied with looking for her phone, she doesn’t register the soft rustle of a suit jacket being removed until, slowly, it’s settling around her shoulders, the stranger’s warmth enveloping her as he wraps it around her like a blanket. 

She glances up, startled and questioning, but hearing no protest as she moves to pull the rest of it on, she offers him a small, grateful smile and her eyes flutter closed, momentarily savouring the heat and the surprising softness of the inner layers of the material against her bare skin as she tremulously pulls her arms through the sleeves. 

Sure, the thing weighs her down, practically swamping her small, 4-foot-10-and-a-half-inch frame, but right now, she finds the weight settled against her shoulders grounding, its warmth slowly draining away the last of her adrenaline and bringing her back down to earth. She inhales, holds, then releases slowly, her eyes slowly opening as she turns once more to look up at the man to thank him.

Startled, she finds that he is no longer there. She thinks he might be gone, but no. He’s not gone, because even if her still thrown-off and overwhelmed senses hadn’t caught the retreat of his footsteps, she would have heard the heavy thud of the door as it had closed behind him and he had gone back in. 

There, standing beneath the awning of the venue, she thinks she can see his silhouette. But it’s clear that he’s intent on giving her some space, and really, it’s probably a cue for her to get her ass in gear so that he doesn’t have to tell her in the politest terms he can muster to hurry up and make her call so he can finally get her out of his hair.

Giving her head a small shake in an attempt to clear it, she pulls out her phone, deciding to follow the unspoken request that he’s given her.

———

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

Deli is speaking, her words tumbling out of her in a rush, even before she’s halfway out the door. She lets it slam behind her, uncaring as she moves quickly towards Isla, dropping down beside her on the bench and putting an arm around her shoulders as she sighs.

“There was this guy, and he was super drunk and acting real creepy towards this one girl. You know, not taking no for an answer and the usual bullshit that men do? Anyways, she looked like she could use some help, and by the time I not so politely told him to fuck off, I turned around and you weren’t there.”

She drops her head to Isla’s shoulder, exhaling.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice quieter.

“It’s all good,” Isla reassures, summoning a small, tired smile. “These things happen, and hey, we just got some pretty good practice for what we’re supposed to do when they do.”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” she says with a soft chuckle, trying to restrain her smile.

If it were almost anyone else, she might have been worried that Deli might have gotten bored of her quiet, somewhat socially anxious company. That she might have decided to ditch her for a more fun, less weighed-down-by-baggage group of friends, but no. This is Deli, and Deli, without question, is not like that, despite long-buried high school insecurities and bad experiences with much less dependable groups of friends who would try to tell her otherwise.

She’s safe, because she’s with Deli and Deli, without a doubt, is a person who is safe.

“Well, my social battery is pretty much toast, and I’m assuming yours isn’t far behind,” she says, offering Isla a grin as she straightens and gets to her feet. 

“You sure?” Isla asks, trying but ultimately failing to keep the note of relieved eagerness from creeping into her voice.

“Yeah,” she says, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “I think we’ve stayed long enough to fulfil our social obligation. Let’s go find some food that isn’t this overpriced fancy shit. Then we can go home and crash.”

“Sounds good,” says Isla, not bothering to hide her smile now as she follows Deli and rises from the bench. “As long as you’re driving.”

Deli lets out a small snort, and she smirks, playfully nudging her shoulder. Isla abruptly turns, realizing that she never thanked the kind man who had helped her get outside. But she can’t pick out his figure, and by the time she does, he’s already turning, watching over his shoulder as he slowly makes his way back inside, the soft click as the door hisses shut behind him seeming to punctuate the finality of his exit.

“Something wrong, Isla?” Deli asks, turning around from where she’s started walking and stopping in her tracks.

��No,” she says, swallowing and attempting to shake off the tiny, stupid pang of insecurity telling her that, of course, he must have been that eager to be rid of her. She turns back to Deli, summoning a bright smile as she quickly unfolds her cane.

“Let’s get out of here”

———

“Ten pack of chicken nuggets,” Deli announces, setting the takeout box on the centre console and smoothly beginning to maneuver out of the drive-thru. “Let’s be honest, they probably won’t last the car ride home.”

“Not tonight, they won’t,” Isla agrees, reaching over to snatch one. She takes a small bite, even though the temperature is still slightly too hot on the tongue, but nonetheless, she closes her eyes, savouring the familiar, warm crunch of the comfort food, scrolling on her phone as she eats.

First, she checks the app that she has paired with the pet cam she has set up at her house. An investment that at first had seemed laughable, but now that Oli is needing to stay home more often than usual, it really does, if nothing else, soothe many of her frayed nerves.

Separation anxiety is no joke, she ponders, holding her phone up close to her face so that she can actually see into her living room. Anyone who shares a close relationship with their pet would understand, sure. But with a guide dog who goes with her everywhere and who she has seldom spent more than an hour apart from since they had been paired together when she was 15...well, you can imagine that it runs a lot deeper.

And there he is, lounging on her couch and contentedly snoring away. Technically, he isn’t supposed to be there, but it’s another concession she’s made now that he’s approaching his ninth year of duty. He’ll have to retire in another year or two, she knows, both because he’s earned it and because the school she got him from doesn’t like working their dogs past 10 years most of the time, for fairly obvious reasons. So until then, the simple things like letting him nap on the couch feel like a reasonable promotion until that time comes.

“Oli,” she calls, cheery and in a singsong voice as she activates the microphone so that he can hear her voice. “How’s my favourite boy?”

The golden retriever wakes with a start, looking around and getting to his feet. He waggles his tail, looking in the direction of the camera with what seems to be more confusion than actual happiness, which, she surmises, is an understandable reaction to hearing her strangely disembodied voice.

Still, it has the desired effect of pulling her lips upward into an unrestrained smile, and she watches, her eyes bright as he settles himself back down, stretching out on his side. 

“Anything exciting happening? Deli pipes up, gesturing to Isla’s phone with a french fry.

“Not overly,” she says, exiting the pet monitor app. She tilts her head, scrolling through her applications, pausing as she listens to her screen reader offer quick feedback. “But I do have an unread email.”

“Ooh,” Deli enthuses. “Maybe it’s another one of those car emergency kit scams that you seem to get every single week.”

“Maybe…” she says, distracted as she lifts her phone closer to her ear, scrolling through and listening as it reads. 

She blinks, feeling something that is most certainly not one of the straps of her dress sliding down her arm, the material dwarfing her hand as she shifts forward. 

Oh…the jacket. She forgot to give the stranger back his jacket. 

This, she knows, is something she should be more concerned about. However, listening as her phone begins to read her the email, she finds herself quickly distracted from that matter.

From: Athena Collins. 

“Oh shit,” she says, leaning forward as she is now suddenly very much intrigued to hear the email’s contents. “It’s from my agent.”

Official role offer below. :-) Please confirm that you are available for the shoot dates outlined in the forwarded email. Heard from the CD that they are casting you alongside Wolffe Fett, which is quite impressive. He’s a very promising, exciting up-and-coming talent from what I've seen, and I have no doubt that you’ll work fabulously alongside him.

Excellent job, Isla. Once you confirm, I’ll have your contract ready for you by Monday.

Her mind backtracks, her eyes widening as she frantically tries to piece together what in the kriff she’s just read. 

She had sent in that audition weeks ago, and could barely remember the film’s storyline. A movie of the week, her mind echoes distantly. Or no, not exactly, it had been a two-part miniseries, one specifically made for The Hallmark Channel as part of their Christmas programming. It had been fun, if also cheesy and predictable. 

But, these productions tend to work fast, and when several weeks had passed without her hearing a peep from her agent…well, as actors were expected to get used to doing, she had easily let the idea of that particular opportunity go, almost forgetting about it entirely.

She sifts through her thoughts, trying to recall the details. 

Typical plotline...she had auditioned to play the role of a singer. Yes, that was it—a singer whose Christmas tour had been derailed by a blizzard and had subsequently found herself stuck in a small town over the holidays, boarding with...

A single dad and his young children.

A very attractive single dad and his young children.

A very attractive single dad, who she is going to have to fall in love with on screen…

And he…

And...Wolffe?

“Oh...oh shit.”

The words escape her lips in a quiet, half-disbelieving utterance. Not Wolffe, who she has heard on good authority is standoffish, awkward, and who—without directly saying it because she’s too nice—Deli has painted as being indifferent, cold...almost certainly unfriendly and unkind. Surely, surely it’s not him.

She reads again, thinking that she’s misheard, thinking that she’s made some sort of mistake but no, there he is, his name unmistakable as she turns her screen reader up and listens to the message harder, her knuckles going white as she clutches her phone tightly in her hand.

“Wolffe Fett!” Deli exclaims, now clearly able to hear what the screen reader has verified for herself. “You’re working with Wolffe Fett?”

She can only nod numbly, and Deli, having the good sense to pull over, scrutinizes her.

Once she’s parked, she turns fully to face her, looking at her intently for a long, long moment until Isla herself looks away, feeling her cheeks go pink as she confusedly begins to fidget.

“Deli...wha...”

She trails off, watching as Deli glances away, then back up at her, then away again.

“Deli, I'm serious, what is it?”

Deli looks at her strangely, seeming to zero in on a specific detail that she herself remains unaware of, and suddenly, without warning, a wide grin breaks across her features. She doesn’t even try to conceal it as her eyes sparkle.

Abruptly, without explanation or warning, her shoulders silently begin to shake, and to Isla’s growing confusion and befuddlement, Deli inexplicably throws her head back and begins to laugh.

Authors note: I wanted to make it clear that despite how I have set this up and how things might appear at first glance, this story is not, nor am I ever planning on writing, a fic that is enemies to lovers, because only with a few exceptions I hate that trope and do not enjoy reading it. 

I wanted to explore, amongst other things, how reputations, and the deceitful nature of them, might complicate relationships at their beginnings. Working hand-in-hand with this, I also wanted to explore love, more specifically finding it and maintaining it when you are disabled, when the world constantly tries to make you feel like you are a burden to others, how do you overcome that and accept that you are not only wanted, but worthy.

As you might have noticed, this is also an exploration of the anxious/preoccupied attachment style, and how disability, specifically my own experiences with blindness, has coloured my relationship to it. This story is also heavily character/relationship driven. So please do not expect an action packed plot coming from me For this one. 

If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog.💞 They are both very appreciated

[bunny-jpeg]

stimulation

charles leclerc

tags: smut/pwp, overstimulation, rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, fingering, nipple play, teasing, missionary position

most assumed that charles was a romantic lover.t he kind that was in fairy tales. with rose petals and wine, lingerie and tender looks. that sex was a romantic affair from something out of a well written romance novel.

tender, sweet, loving.

it didn't get kinkier than doggy style, but if anyone peeked into your sex life they would get the shock of a lifetime. never being able to meet charles' gaze every against. especially when they saw how nicely charles bruised your pretty tits.

charles was a commanding lover. the kind of dominant lover that made your cheeks flushed. he knew exactly how to make you squirm, make you so needy for him. those pretty fingers weren't meant to play piano. they were meant to be stuffed in your prettier cunt.

he wanted to feel the wetness between his digits as he crowded your space and watched every emotion flicker across your face. it was an addictive feeling for both of you. the predestined pretty boy, the face that allured people to the track. in the end a man possessed with it came to the prospect of sexual euphoria with you.

in order to date charles leclerc, you had to be willing to handle a little bruising.

you could feel your lover's heated gaze on you when you came home from your run with leo. the dog, despite his small size, was a good running buddy. even though he wanted treats the moment you got home. the running clothes were a tad tight and hugged your sweaty figure closely. charles almost dropped his lunch at the sight of you.

he managed to put the plate down on the closest flat surface he could find. then approached you, reached out and grabbed your hips tightly. he eyed you closely and felt excitement in his body.

"did you cause traffic accidents on your way home?" he asked with a slight smirk as his hands traveled your sides, "because looking like this should be illegal. several years of house arrest and hundreds of hours of community service."

"how exactly will i service the community on house arrest, mister leclerc?" you joked.

"servicing me, day and night." and then pulled you in for a heated kiss. his hands were on your ass as he pushed his clothed erection up against your front.

he felt the hunger grow in him as you both ended up in your shared bedroom. charles then stripped you of your sweaty clothes. he swore under his breath.

he soon wrapped an arm around your middle when you got nude and sank his fingers into your soft skin, "you must have turned so many heads. how you moved when you ran. gave everyone in the city quite a show." he then played with your breasts, "maybe i need to mark these up a little more so no one gets the wrong idea. you're taken." he played with them a little more before he gave them a tender kiss.

you ended up on the bed and he admired you.

"you're mine, right? all mine. you don't think of anyone else between your thighs other than me. you are only mine, right?"

you nodded and while charles wasn't the tallest or biggest person even, he carried himself quite well. he invaded your space on the bed with a certain domination that it made you core wet.

he sank two fingers into you and kissed at your chest. he played with your nipple between his tongue and teeth. you gasped at the pleasure and grasped him. his fingers felt good against your and your knees quivered slightly. he gave you more pleasure than you could ever desire.

he held you close, "you feel great, so wet for me. did you think about me during your run? imagine my cock inside of you. my cum running down your leg." he continued to stroke your pussy then pressed further into you on the bed, his sweatpants rubbed against your heated skin. he was magic with his fingers and it put you under his spell.

you moaned a little louder in pleasure, the heat curled at your core and you couldn't help yourself feel the intense pleasure as he toys with your pussy. you swore and moaned, and it was all music to his ears. you sounded beautiful when you were in the height of your pleasure. you were undeniably turned on, aroused in a way that when he pushed further into you and played with your breasts with his free hand, you only got louder.

his focus was on you as he rubbed your nipple between his fingers. he licked his lips with an immense want for you. he said, "you have a body like a goddess made human. you could start a war with your beauty alone." and then started to get out of his clothes.

he could feel the heat in him already and he knew that you felt the same way. you were both heated with want as he continued to play with your breasts. he could bruise your skin so easily with the grip he had. you moaned and felt the lust from the small marks he was leaving on you. his heart hammered and your toes curled. the need for each other only grew the more he played with you

large hand on your soft tits as he toyed with your nipples. his cock teased your wet slit. it was a hungry feeling that made you soaked for him.

"fucking take me already." you said.

"of course, anything for you, my love." before he got on top of you and sank his cock eagerly into you. he could admire your beauty while pleasure coursed through both of you. he licked his lips, you were divine. he held onto your hips and started to move against you.

"charles."

his name sounded perfect on your tongue. he pushed his entire length in and exhaled deeply. the stimulation was already fucking with his head, your soaked pussy was something else. even after a good run, you still felt and looked beyond beautiful.

heaven between your legs and he felt needy for you. his cock hit against all the right places inside of you. his grip on your hips made sure you weren't getting anywhere far fast. he leaned further up against you. he wanted to make sure that every part of him was inside of you, that his achy cock got to feel your sweet pussy.

"fuck, please. honey." you said with a want in your tone and it drove your lover mad. he continued to work himself inside of you. your love bloomed in your chest, you tried to meet his pace and felt the flurry of love for him. his cock was addictive and it made you stomach twist in a good way.

the pleasure grew and you remained heavily flustered from the intensity of it. you moaned loudly and arched your back. the leap of want zapped through you. you held onto his shoulders tightly as he worked himself against you.

the two of you were sweaty, hungry for pleasure. when you kissed, teeth clacked against each other in a messy fashion as you wished to have more of each other. charles through you were beautiful, he always did. the kind of beauty that excited him in every capacity. to call you his was an honour he'd never abuse.

charles continued to fuck you. he moved you to his liking. he almost slipped out of you, only to quickly shove himself further inside of you to prevent that. he wanted to feel everything. all of you.

"you look perfect for me." he said, "everything about you drives me mad, i feel crazy when i'm with you." he chuckled lowly as he held onto your shoulders tightly for leverage as he thrusted into you.

you were so wet that his pelvis was slick, but it didn't deter him going faster. make a mess of him, he'd happily accept it.

he kissed your heated skin and felt your pulse as you squirmed under him. he wondered if you were close to be overstimulated and what was why you were moving around so much. your body could only handle so much of charles' attention before you needed your release.

charles continued his pace, he bullied your sweet cunt. your breasts moved with each hard thrust and your noises got louder and more needy.

your brain started to lose focus as pleasured seeped into every inch of your head. it was intoxicating, it was lustful and your craved it. you tried to move, but charles kept you pinned to the bed by your shoulders. he teased the tip of his cock against your entrance before he quickly slid back in.

it made him groan, your noises only added to his pride. he panted heavily and kissed you deeply on the lips once more. the pace he used left your body hot all over, and he enjoyed it. even when you squirmed, he loved it.

he kept you spread under him as he said, "where are you going, my love? trying to escape me?" his tone was cheeky, "you won't go too far, i'd always get my hands on you." you swore under your breath and he licked his lips.

"please, charles."

he kissed your neck and you melted at his touch. he said, "i know it feels so good for you, my love. i know you feel amazing." your cunt clenched around his length and it only spurred him on further to fuck you faster.

"fuck, charles. it's so much." you were sexually overstimulated and you held onto him tightly. your climax felt close and you held onto him tightly as he fucked you. your racing heart was on par with his quick movements of his hips against you.

"all for you." he promised. you were shaky mess under him and charles loved the look on your face. you trembled from his pace when he kissed you deeply once more. you moaned against his lips and he felt himself tense up.

his pace was brutal, but it sent you over the edge. you were left gasping as you came around his cock soon after. the feeling was hot and addictive, you felt your soul sing at it. it only made you more overstimulated. but, you loved it, just like you loved him.

he was close behind you, his pace got more erratic. the pleasure moved through him quickly. his brain felt like it was sparking from the sensation of being able to fuck you in such a way. he felt hot, you looked hot under him. it was a perfect feeling. he said lowly, "stay with me, my love. you have quite the night ahead of you."

promising more sex that left you panting into the warm air of the bedroom. he finished inside of you, spilling himself into you and the sensation made you cum once more. he swore under his breath and slowed his pace to a stop after his orgasm hit. he panted heavily, admiring you. he felt spent, but knew it wouldn't last long. he'd always want you.

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he kept an arm around your middle and pulled you close. you felt comforting and he loved his hands on you. both of you basked in each other's warmth, the intimate position allowed you both to let the after glow of climax shine through. comfortable together.

"i can't get enough of you." he said lowly.

"and i can't get enough of you." you replied as you kissed once more. you moaned a little at his fingers grazed you pussy once more and kissed you deeply.

you smiled against his lips as held his face. you were still catching your breath from the powerful orgasm. you said to him, "fuck me again, charles. like you said, we have quite the night ahead of us." <3

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 bmf

synopsis: zoro doesn't take kindly to you being disrespected... at all.

cw: supposed to parallel piña colada, fluffy fluff, comfort, ZORO DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT YOU, protective zoro, decent amount of profanity in this one, zoro is mr. handle it.

a/n: I LOVE LANA SO MUCH I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF ZORO WHEN I HEARD THIS SONG <3 i suggest you listen to it while reading for the full experience.

"This is insane!" a random onlooker exclaimed, hand gripping his hair in disbelief. "Are these guys even human?!"

His shouts of surprise were followed by howls of excitement from the other passerby, everyone packed tightly around your net and towels to get a glimpse of the action.

Originally, the boys had been taking on challengers in four-on-four volleyball matches, but when they kept kicking everyone's ass, they opted for two on two between themselves instead.

The current match was Sanji and Usopp vs. Zoro and Franky.

And the entire crowd was on the edge of their seats.

"C'mon, Sanji! Get your head in the game!" Nami exclaimed, slightly tipsy, as she gripped onto her wad of cash. "If you lose this, I'm out thirty thousand berries!"

"Yes, Nami-Swan! Your wish is my command!" the lovesick cook squealed, completely stopping what he was doing to gawk at her, his eyes turning heart-shaped.

With a smirk, Zoro took the opportunity to launch himself in the air, meeting Franky's set perfectly and spiking the ball into the sand with a deafening slam, the force creating a small crater.

"Yes! Good job, Zo'!" you cheered, pumping your free fist in the air while the other held your swordsman's sake.

"SANJI!" Nami growled, furious.

With a small chuckle, Robin glanced up from her book, eyes carefully examining the navigator's puffed cheeks and childish pout.

'Adorable...'

"Nami, this is supposed to be a vacation..." you snickered, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you relax?"

"I would be relaxed if I was making money!" she huffed, crossing her arms over his chest. "I ask him to do one thing, and he can't even do that!"

"This is for the win! One last rally!" Chopper announced, happily jumping atop his lifeguard chair.

"C'mon, Sanji, you gotta help me on this!" Usopp exclaimed as he grabbed the cook by his shoulders, attempting to shake him out of it. "There's no way I'm stopping them if they pull that move again!"

"Nice work, bro!" Franky commended, giving your moss-haired swordsman a high-five as he approached the service line, ball in hand.

"Thanks," he nodded, a cocky smirk settling on his lips as he turned to face the net. "Now, let's finish this... I got a nice bottle of sake waiting for me."

Out the corner of his eye, he glanced at his towel, where you sat, reapplying your sunscreen.

Carefully, you squeezed a glob into your palm, closing the cap before rubbing your hands together and massaging it into the flesh of your legs.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you caressed your skin, the sunscreen giving you an alluring shine and making your legs look ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

He grinned, taking in the light (f/c) of your bikini, along with the waist beads hanging lazily over your stomach, and the gold anklets and bracelets that jingled with your every movement.

You looked oh-so sexy, and he was oh-so ready to join you.

"Let's hurry this up!"

Tossing the ball in the air, he served, sending it flying over the net with the force of a cannonball.

"Sanji!" Usopp shrieked, eyes wide with fear as he slapped his hands on his cheeks.

"Diable Mouton Shot!" Sanji spat, jumping into the air and hitting the ball with a flaming kick, sending the it right back.

The damned thing caught on fire with his force, and was headed straight for the sand.

"What a weak serve! I'd expect that from you, moss for brains!"

"HAH?! YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN!"

"I got it, bro!" Franky dove, extending his fist in the nick of time and saving the ball, letting it bounce into the sky. "All you!"

Pissed, Zoro broke into a running start before launching himself into the air once again, the crowd going wild as he wound up his arm for one monster slam.

Suddenly, something called his attention to the sidelines, his eyes instantly landing on the (h/c) head of hair that belonged to his girlfriend.

You were smiling from ear to ear, beaming with pride, hands clasped together as you watched him soar through the air.

Finding his eyes, you gave your swordsman a firm nod, your expression encouraging him to push forward.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With renewed vigor, Zoro turned to the ball, your support turning his drive into pure, molten fire.

He roared, striking down on the ball, executing a perfect spike.

"Ow!" a random woman winced as she walked past, lifting up her foot. "Stupid seashells..."

"Do you need help, my dear?! I'd be glad to carry you wherever you need to go!" Sanji offered, practically teleporting to her side with a lovesick grin.

"SANJI!" Usopp screamed, terrified, as the ball came careening toward him.

Frantic, he dove out the way, just barely saving his ass as it slammed into the ground with a thunderous crack, a large burst of sand shooting up from the ground.

For a moment, the crowd was silent, before erupting with roars of joy and excitement.

Everyone rushed Zoro as he landed, Franky letting out loud whoops and howls of victory.

"SANJI!" Nami shouted, dropping herself face first in her towel. "My berries!"

"Zoro and Franky win! Way to go, Zoro!" Chopper cheered, jumping off of the lifeguard chair.

"That move was killer, man!" one of the onlookers exclaimed. "I could barely see the ball!"

"You should go pro! You'd make a killing!" another added.

"Great game!"

"Good job!"

"You're the best player I've ever seen!”

"That last spike was insane! A little higher and you could've jumped over the net!"

The women were next to swarm, pushing past the men and surrounding him on all sides.

"Nice game, hot stuff!"

"You're really strong, aren't you?"

"You doin' anything later tonight?"

Zoro rolled his eyes, unamused, as he attempted to maneuver around them, one thing on his mind.

You.

Though, as he managed to peer past the crowd of girls, he caught sight of a man next to his towel.

He was large for an average guy, muscular and decently good-looking with shaggy brown hair.

But that wasn't what bothered Zoro.

What bothered Zoro was the way he was talking to you, forcibly positioning himself to tower over your sitting form and using a sharp tone that sparked a few embers of anger in the swordsman's chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?

"You got a name, handso—?" "Move."

Pushing past her and the other girls, he power-walked toward your umbrella, getting close enough to actually make out what you were saying.

"Look, whatever your name is, I'm trying to help you out," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I can't promise your safety if my boyfriend comes back here and catches you acting like this."

He'd been at this for fifteen minutes...

After Robin left to go get a drink, and Nami ran off to kick Sanji's ass, he swooped in like a vulture on the hunt, attempting to put the moves on you.

He used every line in the book, laying it on thick as he bragged about his weight-lifting stats and obnoxiously flexed his muscles in your face.

"My safety?" he scoffed, letting out a haughty chuckle at your outlandish statement. "Sweetheart, if anything, your boyfriend's the one that should be worryin' about safety. I guarantee you I'm twice the man he is."

You paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up your shades and waiting to see if the man was serious.

He was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

You threw your head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the man to jolt with surprise, and slight confusion.

He'd never seen your expressions range anything past disinterest, so seeing you so amused by the idea of him beating up your boyfriend was... jarring, to say the least.

But you couldn't help yourself.

Zoro, the man with a bounty over one billion?

Zoro, the master of the sword belonging to the king of hell?

Zoro, the man who has moved literal mountains with his bare hands?

It was almost too much.

The man's brows furrowed, face burning at the mockery.

"The hell is so fuckin' funny?!" he huffed, growing anger.

Attempting to regain your composure, you wiped a tear from your eye, slightly clutching your stomach as your laughs died down.

"You wish," you snickered into the rim of your fruity drink, taking a sip as you attempted to muffle your chuckles. "He'd kill you... like actually."

Furious, the man took a harsh step forward, completely invading your personal space and smacking your drink out your hand, knocking the cup into the sand.

"You think I'm some kind of joke, bitch?!" he exclaimed, the veins in his neck bulging.

"Pick it up."

Zoro's voice traveled through the air like a wave of ice, quelling the slight pangs of worry in your chest like water to a fire.

Feeling tough, the man snapped his head around, meeting your swordsman with a harsh glare.

That is... until he realized who he was talking to.

Instantly, the wind left his sails, eyes widening and heart sinking like a rock in a river as it all finally clicked.

Your boyfriend was one of the most wanted men in the New World.

"Y-You... Y-You're... Pirate Hunter?!"

"I said... pick it up," Zoro pressed, tone leaving no room for argument, eye sharply trained on the bastard in front of him. "Before I make you do it myself."

"Look! I didn't know she was your girlfriend!" the man blubbered, practically shaking as he scrambled to pick up your glass, frantically handing it to you. "I didn't mean it! I don't want any trouble!"

"Then get lost," Zoro spat, harshly, brows cinching with anger. "You come around here again and I'll show you who's the real bitch."

The man didn't have to hear it twice.

Like that, he was gone, running back to his friends with his tail between his legs.

Finally able to sit, Zoro plopped himself down next to you, muttering and grumbling to himself in annoyance as he watched the man run away.

He let him off easy—only because you chewed him out the last time he "went overboard" and caused an island-wide incident, forcing the crew to evacuate.

He nearly murdered the island's sovereign for calling you out of your name, and doubling down when he told him to watch his mouth.

Tenderly, you grabbed his chin, pulling him in and placing a thankful kiss on his cheek as you handed off his sake.

"My hero," you cooed, teasingly.

With a grumble, he popped the cork with his teeth, taking a large swig with puffed cheeks, before breaking off with a harsh sigh.

As he wiped the excess with the back of his hand, he glanced at the man once again, anger flaring in his chest when the bastard hid behind his umbrella.

Like a goddamn child...

Zoro scoffed, taking another swig of his sake.

"Fuckin' pussy..."

[leyavo]

Ghost x mute!reader (electronics engineer)

Simon didn’t expect to get so close to you. He thought he’d hand over the busted radio and return an hour later to get it. But you’re the only one there at 2am, no one else to test it. You could tweak it and fix it, but you couldn’t test it.

No you needed Simon to speak into the coms, your gloved hand raising the radio to his masked mouth waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t complain, rolling his mask up and resting it over the tip of his nose as he speaks again. Your gaze flitting to his moving lips, his low gravely voice pulling you in.

The first time the speaker is crackly and you shake your head, setting the radio back on the table. Taking it apart and putting it back together. He sits beside you, hunched over the uncomfortable plastic chair. Comical really, the way he shifts in the seat trying not to widen his legs as not to touch his knee to yours.

You’re aware of the lack of space surrounding your workstation. Wires and spare/recycled parts scattered every inch of the surface. Lieutenant Riley sticks out like a sore thumb, headphones and tactical vest still on, sunglasses resting on top of his masked head. His warm umber eyes following your every movement, standing out against the charcoal paint smeared around them.

He hasn’t spoken to you directly since he entered, other than to test the radio. Just the buzz of electric and metal scraping, a drop of the screw in your grasp. You’re wiring the earpiece back to the main part and inserting it into the seam of his tactical vest when your commanding officer walks in. You glance over the lieutenant’s shoulder, the C.O signing you’re wasting a lieutenant’s time. A slight pull of your brow, fingers hovering ever so close to side of Simon's neck.

Simon can see the guy’s hands in the reflection of the glass cabinet behind you. “I’m in no rush, ain’t had a chance to sit down till now.” His words alone smoothing the line between your brows.

The guy huffs, throwing a disapproving glare your way and dumping a hard drive on your desk. Simon doesn’t know why, but he finds himself talking. Filling the silence. Telling you he’s just come back from an op, but was too wired to sleep so he thought he’d get his coms fixed instead. Least he wouldn’t have to fill out a form in the day and wait around.

You might not speak, but you’re a good listener. A nod of your head, hum of approval and a flick of your hand when you sign something back to him. He’s a little rusty with his sign language, an excuse to see you more often when he returns a week later with a shattered phone. Even manages to get your number, you know just incase he breaks anything else.

He notices you around base, can’t miss you now that he knows you and he finds himself going to your workstation for a cup of tea a couple times a week. You're desk a lot tidier as if you've made space for him. You’re starting to relax around him, hands moving animatedly as you communicate with him. He has to grab your wrist sometimes, asking you to teach him what a certain sign means and he does it as an excuse for you to guide his hands in signing, which you later catch on to. You even make up stuff to catch him out.

You’re quite popular around base too, medics and techs greeting you in the corridors on your way to the canteen. Simon’s watched you playing with the service dogs whilst on some smoke breaks. You seem to gravitate to the particular section and he finds out your brother’s part of the designated training teams. Wonders if you’ve mentioned his name and if he’ll get warned off.

[Masterlist]

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pet Pastimes.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Hybrid AU, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.

“And you’re sure this is going to help?”

Satoru had been agitated when Suguru first brought you home – all dolled up in your collar, ecstatic to be led along the very same leash he always strained against. You were more obedient than most of the unruly mutts he knew, always happy enough to sit patiently and wait for your next command, but it would take more than a few weeks of passable behavior to convince Satoru dogs were anything but hyper and messy and so loud, he could hear their mindless barking from a mile away. The fact that you were supposedly here to ‘help’ him (Suguru called you a “service animal”, said most captive-born exotic hybrids had more domestic companions, but Satoru didn’t think you deserved such a pretentious title) didn’t make anything better. Satoru didn’t need help. What he needed was Suguru’s attention, but if he couldn’t have that, he’d settle for yours.

“Oh, I’m sure, puppy.” His fist tightened around the base of his cock. Suguru wasn’t home – just a quick errand, he’d claimed, it should only take a few minutes, as if that was an excuse for leaving his favorite pet and dutiful companion at home – and Satoru barely waited for the apartment door to lock before luring you into the kitchen and telling you to get on your knees while he leaned against the counter, Suguru’s forgotten phone well within reach. Currently, you were kneeling in front of him, your hands balled on your thighs and your gaze almost cross-eyed as you struggled to see what he was holding to your lips. He thought you would’ve had a little more experience, but your first owner must’ve been the sheltering type. Part of him was annoyed that he’d have to pick up the slack and teach you something so basic, but overall, he was pleased to know that it would be a long, long time before you got enough practice in to replace Satoru as Suguru’s favorite playmate. “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed out lately,” he said, drawing it out each word, giving your stupid canine brain time to process what he was saying. “This’ll really help me relax. You wanna help me out, right?”

Automatically, you nodded – your pressed frown instantly replaced with an eager smile. Your ears perked up, your concerns completely forgotten when presented with the chance to do what you’d been trained for. “Please, ‘toru,” you whined, and he fought the urge to cringe at the way Suguru’s nickname sounded coming out of your mouth. “Please let me help!”

It was almost cute, just how desperate you were to make him happy.

Almost.

He forced himself to smile back at you, using one hand to scratch at the base of your ears while the other jerked lazily over his cock. He was already hard, thankfully, and at the added stimulation, the sight of you practically drooling on yourself to get a taste of his cock, he felt himself twitch – thick pearls of arousal beginning to bead at the tip and drip onto your chin. You didn’t seem to care, to notice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his was the first cock you’d ever seen. “Can you open your mouth for me? Big n’ wide, just like I showed you.”

Like the trained dog you were, you obeyed immediately – letting your mouth fall open and looking up at him with the same bright, expectant eyes that must’ve won Suguru over, when he first picked you up. His hips wanted to buck forward, to bury him to the hilt in your newly available hole, but he held himself back, told himself he had to ease you into it no matter how little you’d done to earn his oh so generously given kindness. In the end, he settled for swiping his thumb over the flushed tip before resting it gingerly on your splayed-out tongue. It only took a second for you to stiffen, to jerk back. You didn’t cough or sputter, but your mouth snapped shut, your expression taking on a certain unease. Satoru fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Is something wrong, puppy?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” You closed your mouth, looking away. “It tasted weird. It was bitter, n’ stuff.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you still don’t think you can handle this, I can just tell Suguru you decided you’d rather go back to the pound—”

“Please don’t!” Your hands shot to his thighs. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I can’t— I don’t want to go back to the—”

“Then open your mouth.” After a second, you straightened, your lips parting and your jaw going slack. Still, he feigned reluctance, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare as he raked his fingers through your hair and tugged half-heartedly, just hard enough to draw out a strained whimper. “And this time, don’t fuck everything up just because it ‘tastes weird’. If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Suguru you were being a bad dog.”

Your ears drooped, your tail falling slack against the tiled floor. Still, you managed not to jerk back as he slid his cock into your open mouth, slotting his tip against the velvety inside of your cheek. He could see you wince, your shoulders rising as you fought the urge to pull away, but even if you’d tried, the fingers knotted in your hair would’ve kept you rooted to the floor as he rolled his hips and thrust shallowly into the hollow of your cheek. Your tongue was smooth compared to his and wide compared to Suguru’s, and he could tell you were fighting not to move, not to explore the unknown factor trespassing inside of you. With a slight hum, he took pity on you – hazy lust having softened his previous annoyance. “It’s okay, puppy – you can lick, if you want to.” There was a moment of hesitation, then the broad flat against your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the shape of a prominent vein Suguru tended to favor, too. He shuddered, but told himself it was only out of reflex. You got lucky, that was all. “Mind your teeth. I’m takin’ you back to the shelter myself if you bite down.”

You tried to nod, but gave up quickly. Instead, your acknowledgment came in the form of your tongue curling around his tip, licking at the arousal dripping down his shaft, doing your best to lap at the shaft of his cock despite the awkward angle. Saliva and pre-cum pooled in the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t dare tilt your head back, didn’t dare swallow - keeping your mouth wide open as he drew back just far enough to pull out of your cheek and aim, instead, towards the back of your throat. You flinched, your dull nails scraping against his thighs, but it was easy to drown out the dull spark of pain as your tight throat fluttered and tightened around his cock, as the hand still wrapped around his base fell away in favor of joining its twin on the back of your skull and pulling you flush against his crotch. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting – your body lurching against his legs as you gagged, as you tried to wretch yourself out of his hold, but he was too far gone to so much as consider letting you go. “Stupid mutt,” he mumbled, cupping the back of your skull while you fought not to suffocate on his length. “Don’t even know how to breathe right. Can’t do anything on your own, huh, can you?”

Your only response was a choked inhale, a string of incoherent gibberish half-muffled by his cock. Drool wasn’t the only thing dripping down your face, now – tears were rolling down your cheeks, fat and hot, drawing thick trails through the mess of cum and spit. Your tongue wasn’t moving, anymore, but he didn’t care – your mouth was warm and soft and fuckable enough to make up for your lack of skill. You were beating at his legs, too, your little hands made even smaller when compared to him, and for a second, he could be convinced that you were a little cute. Not cute enough to deserve as much of Suguru’s attention as you got, obviously, but cute.

His cock pulsed against the convulsing walls of your throat, and he cursed under his breath. You let out a pained whine as he drew back, pulling out of you entirely. Without his support, you threatened to buckle over, to collapse into yourself, but he held you up with one hand while the other pumped over his cock too quickly, too roughly not to tip him over the edge. It was all you could do to stare up at him with those big, watery eyes as he let out an airy moan, as he painted thick ropes of white across your messy face, as he left you stained and teary-eyed and covered with his cum.

You blinked once, then twice, but didn’t react, too out of it to complain or cry out or question why his lips quirked up into a small grin, his eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded sort of lull. “Good puppy,” he cooed, his heart skipping a beat as he heard your formerly stagnant tail begin to sweep lazily over the tile floor. He reached for Suguru’s phone as he went on, keeping his tone light, delicate. “Can you smile for me, too? A big, wide smile – to show how happy you are that you get to stay with me n’ Suguru.”

It took a second, but eventually, you managed a stilted nod. It was shaky, at first, more of a mangled frown than anything, but with a little love and patience, you found your footing, your lips splitting apart into a wide, beaming smile – as if you were the happiest, most pathetic puppy in the world.

God.

You were fucking adorable.

Your smile barely faltered as the camera shuttered, as Satoru’s hand fell back to your head and pet over your disheveled hair – a treat for his well-behaved mutt. He could feel you melting into his palm, but his eyes were fixed on his picture of your smiling face and, with a few taps of his thumb, Suguru’s shiny new lockscreen.

Maybe, once Suguru got a good look at your pretty face, he’d think twice before deciding to be such a neglectful owner again.

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 6 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.1k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

-

1800

Y/N was checking in on her patients when she heard over the intercom, “Code Triage, Emergency Department now.” She glanced up from what she was doing and looked around. Mass casualty. There was a mass casualty incoming.

            “What does that mean? Has that happened before?” she heard next to her. Glancing over, she spotted Santos saying that.

            Y/N met her eyes, and she sighed. “Incoming mass casualty,” she simply said. Everyone looked over to her.

            “Hey, what’s going on?” McKay asked.

            “Mass casualty at PittFest,” Robby said.

            Y/N walked over, hearing that, crossing her arms. “Holy fuck,” she muttered. “What do you mean mass casualty? Like a shooter?”

            Robby just stared at her and Y/N just nodded.

            “How many victims?” Mohan spoke up.

            “We don’t know. Expect the worst,” Robby replied.

            Just then Robby cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Ok, everybody listen up!” All eyes went on Robby. “There is an active shooter at PittFest. As the nearest trauma centre, we are going to be getting the majority of the victims. We don’t know yet how many we are getting, but we are instituting hospital-wide emergency protocols. We need to move every patient out of here. They either go home, they go upstairs, or they go to family medicine. Call your loved ones now if you need to. I can guarantee you, cell service will soon be overwhelmed. Eat something. Stay hydrated. Use the bathroom while there’s time, and meet back here for a full briefing in five minutes,” Robby explained.

            Y/N noticed a figure walking up behind him. Instantly, a smile came to her face, but she shut it down. Jack glanced at her, seeing her standing there with her hair down now, cardigan gone but exhaustion on her face.

            Robby then turned to see Jack. “Brother, I’m so fucking glad to see you,” Robby muttered, walking over to Jack and bringing him in a hug.

            Y/N pulled her phone out, sending a message to Beckett that dinner would be cancelled tonight as Jack and Y/N will have to work later due to an emergency.

            “I heard it on the police scanner,” Jack muttered as Robby pulled away. “How is she?” he asked, nudging at Y/N who was looking at her phone. “Did you figure out what happened with her this morning?” he asked, trying to get information.

            Robby just stared at him. Knowing well about the pregnancy, the miscarriage and how Y/N threatened him to never tell Jack.

            Robby didn’t answer right away.

            Jack narrowed his eyes. “Robby,” he tried, eye contact full on glaring.

            Robby exhaled through his nose, jaw tight as he shook his head. “She’s fine. Focus on the incoming, Jack.”

            Jack didn’t buy it. He knew Robby, knew the way his voice clipped when he was holding something back. But now wasn’t the time. He’d pull it out of him later.

            Across the room, Y/N was already moving – snapping into high-function mode. All serious now and all action. She tucked her phone away before starting to command the team to clear beds. Her exhaustion was shoved down, buried beneath adrenaline and instinct. She moved like someone who needed chaos, thrived in it.

            Jack watched her. His stomach twisted. He could see it – she was too quiet, too still in the eyes. Normally, she would’ve walked up to him by now.

            “You tell me if something’s wrong. I mean it,” Jack said lowly. “It’s Y/N. She’s my life,” he muttered. Robby just nodded, patting him on the back.

            “I know. Tough day, all I’m saying and it’s just getting tougher,” Robby replied. “But she’s fine.”

            Robby nodded.

            Y/N just went straight to work, pushing everything aside. Y/N moved patients alongside her coworkers.

            Y/N walked back up to the nurses’ station where Jack, Robby, Garcia and Dana were. He glanced over to her and sent her a small smile.

            “Hi,” she whispered.

            He nodded. “Hey, Kid,” he muttered. “I’m taking Primary ER.”

            “Have at it,” Robby replied. Y/N crossed her arms.

            “Who’s taking Primary Surgery?” Jack asked holding the vest and binder. He held it up, looking over at the crowd.

            “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Walsh replied.

            “Dr. Walsh,” Jack replied handing her the kit.

            “Anaesthesiology?” Jack asked.

            “Gladden will be down. He’s got four in place, more on the way,” Dr. Walsh replied.

            Y/N was grabbing a gown, some gloves as Jack started assigning roles to everyone.

            “Ok, this is yours,” Jack said, handing Robby an emergency belt of supplies.

            “Thank you. What do you got in there?” Robby asked.

            Y/N walked back over, next to Jack. “Got some goodies, Captain?” she asked, smirking. Jack’s backpack was filled with emergency supplies.

            He looked at her for a brief moment before looking back at Robby. “A couple of CAT tourniquets, hemostatic dressings, LMAs.”

            “We got plenty of that stuff,” Robby replied.

            “Butterfly ultrasound works off a cell phone,” Jack said, opening up the kit. Y/N leaned over to look at it.

            “Wow, all the bells and whistles,” she hummed.

            “Very cool,” Robby replied. “But we’re gonna send all the unstable chest and belly straight up to the OR.”

            Jack nodded. But as he was showing the ultrasound kit, Y/N spotted something that made her heart drop. He was wearing his wedding ring. The one he had when he was with Grace, his last wife. She stared for a second, blinking a few times before pushing that thought aside.

            He only wore it when he was having a bad day. Missing her. Y/N didn’t mind it. She was very supportive with his grief. However, today was not the day he should be thinking of Grace. Y/N miscarried today. Sure, Jack did not know yet, but he was grieving his last wife while Y/N went through something traumatic. Additionally, he only wore it while at home, never to work. He must’ve totally forgotten that we were wearing it when he left the house.

            Y/N forced herself to refocus, pulling her eyes away from the ring. Now wasn’t the time to spiral. Now wasn’t the time to feel anything.

            Robby turned to the crowd as everyone was gowning and prepping. “Ok, everyone. This is how it’s going to work. Our ambulance bay is now our Triage. EMS will be overwhelmed,” he began.

            “Go stand over there, Kid,” Jack said, leaning into Y/N as he pointed to where everyone else was standing, looking at Robby and Jack. Y/N nodded, walking over.

            “Most will probably arrive by car, several victims per vehicle. For all you newbies that don’t know, Dr. Shen is our night shift attending,” Robby said as Dr. Shen walked over and Robby patted his back. “John, I’m gonna put you on Point Triage.”

            “Cool,” Shen replied.

            “Triage will decide who goes where depending on their injury,” Robby stated, looking over at them.

            Y/N nodded, crossing her arms as she listened. Jack crossed his arms over his chest, biceps bulging.

            “Every department will have a designated primary who will oversee their staff. If you need someone, look for the vest. We’re all going to have walkies. We can get you whatever you need,” Jack explained, voice low, authoritative as he glanced over the crowd.

            “No patient goes into a room unless it’s a trauma bay, and they will have four patients each. We need to keep everybody out in the open so we can keep an eye on everything, ok? Triage is gonna assess and assign every patient to a specific zone with a coloured slap band,” Robby explained, gesturing to things. Then he pulled out a belt bag with different colour slap bands. “Patient who comes in with a red slap band,” he slapped it on his wrist, “goes to the Red Zone, which is the trauma rooms with overflow out here. These are the most critical patients who will die without immediate attention,” Robby stated. “Samira, where are you?”

            Mohan raised her hand.

            “You are here with Dr. Abbot, me and Y/N,” Robby stated. “Jack’s gonna run traffic.”

            Y/N nodded, meeting Jack’s eye, who sent her a curt nod. He knew she could do this. He taught her more than she needed to know as a nurse. She could perform like a doctor, and with two senior residents down, they needed Y/N. Then a smile came to Y/N’s face as she knew she was allowed to play doctor today.

            Jack just raised a brow at that smile, a silent facial expression of ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself’.

            “We have five minutes to try and stabilise the reds. After that, its OR, ICU or morgue,” Jack said, voice powerful, low but calm. Arms still crossed as he glanced around the room.

            “The south and central common area over there will be the Pink Zone,” Robby said, holding up the pink slap band. “That is for patients who will die under an hour without treatment. McKay and Javadi, you are over there, with help from incoming night shift and surgical staff.” Y/N glanced around before going back to Robby. “Yellow Zone is the North Corridor. Those are gonna be mostly extremity wounds, good vitals, talking,” Robby explained holding up the yellow band now. “Mel, you’re gonna run point there with Santos and Whitaker.”

            Mel looked frazzled. “Uh, what if…what if there’s a pulseless extremity?”

            Jack stared at Mel for a minute, then hummed. “Oh, if you can’t feel a pulse, check for Doppler flow with this,” he said, grabbing onto the butterfly ultrasound machine. “It’s a mini-ultrasound. Follow the screen prompts,” he told her, handing the machine over, eyes glaring into Mel’s. It was as if he was handing her his greatest possession, a subtle glare of ‘take care of this’. Y/N just smirked.

            “But yellow can change to a red if they go south. You got to stay on top of them, even if they seem stable,” Robby explained.

            “Ok, yeah,” Mel mumbled.

            “You got this, Dr. King,” Robby stated, nodding towards the resident. His eyes focused back on the crowd. “Green…minor lacs and sprains. They got to Family Medicine. Black and white bands are DOA, imminent death. Pedes is now our morgue. Let’s hope we don’t get too many of these,” Robby explained, looking over to Jack.

            Jack nodded, then looked back at the crowd now. “We’re a MASH unit now. There’s no charting, no electronic medical records, no board,” he said before pointing to the board.

            “How do we document treatment?” McKay asked, brows furrowed.

            “Oh, you’ll all get Sharpies, and every patient has a wrist chart to document treatment and procedures,” Jack stated, pointing to the wrist chart that Robby was holding up. “You run out of room, write on the patient’s forehead.”

            A snicker came from Y/N.

            “Really?” Javadi asked.         

            Jack stared at the med student for a second. “Yeah, really,” he stated.

            “Each wrist chart has a unique mass casualty incident barcode and patient number. That’s how the patients are gonna get identified,” Robby explained, holding the chart up.

            Jack nodded. “This is no-frills combat zone medicine. No ultrasound, no X-rays, no CT, no labs. Assess based on mental status and pulse strength. Every critical patient gets an IO, intubation, a unit of blood and a chest tube if needed. Everything you need…blood, drugs, bandages…everything will be in the Behavioural Health rooms. That’s our supply depot,” Jack stated, eyes glancing over the room, using his military, authority voice. “Um,” he muttered, thinking, “oh! Keep a couple of 11 blades in your pocket.” Jack leaned down to grab one, which was indeed in his pocket of his cargo pants. “Goal is to resuscitate ASAP so they’ll make it upstairs for definitive care.”

            “Trauma surgery and neurosurgery will decide who goes up to the OR immediately and who goes to the ICU for further treatment and evaluation,” Robby finished before looking over to Jack, who was looking at him. “Communicate. Ask for help if you need it. Trust your attendings,” then Jack and Robby fist bumped. “We will get through this together.”

            “Damn right we will,” Jack replied, nodding.

            Then they were dismissed. Y/N walked up to Jack, who was grabbing supplies. “Jack,” she called out, and he turned to her.

            “Yeah,” he muttered.

            “Tie me, please,” she said with a small smile pointing to her gown. He nodded as she turned her back to him. Jack’s hand came to her neck, pushing her hair aside.

            “Can I have a hair band?” he asked, and Y/N gave him one. Gently, he twirled her hair around, making a small bun before tying it. Then he tied the gown. He leaned into her ear. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

            “I’m fine,” she said, turning around. “You?”

            He shrugged. “Fine.” Though she knows his eyes were saying something else. They stared for a moment. “Are we still going to talk tonight?” he asked, voice low.

            She nodded. “Yeah, of course. But we need to get through this first, ok?”

            He nodded. “Just hate when you keep things from me.”

            Y/N nodded again. “I know. You will know soon.”

            A slow nod came. “So, there is something,” he stated, raising a brow.

            Y/N just stared at him for a minute, mouth opening slightly. “We will talk, ok?” she muttered, voice low now. “When I’m ready,” she added.

            Jack nodded, knowing not to fight her. “We’ve got this, Kid,” he muttered, fist bumping her. “Just keep your head on, listen to my orders and don’t pull anything stupid.”

            Y/N tilted her head and raised a brow. “When have I ever pulled something stupid?” He went to open his mouth to respond. “That ended up with the patient dying…” He shook his head, mouth closing. “Exactly.”

            “Listen, though,” he muttered, hissing tone.

            “Yes, Captain,” she replied, smirking.

-

The first patient was here. Jack and Y/N were in one of the trauma rooms as they worked around one another. It was as if they were back on night shift together, working like a well-oiled machine. Jack was wearing the orange vest that stated, “Primary Emergency MD”.

            Jack was intubating a patient. “I’m in,” he stated as Robby entered the room. “Kid, bag her,” he called out, and Y/N was already doing it as Jack glanced up.

            “O-neg is pouring in,” Y/N stated as she stood there, holding the blood bag and the oxygen bag.

            He nodded to her. “Good.”

            “Stronger pulse,” someone said. “I’ll take her up.”

            “Dr. Mohan, that kid came in with his mom. She says he’s deaf,” Robby stated.

            “Write that on his chart,” Y/N called out.

            Jesse came back in with a blood bag. “Ready with the O-neg.”

            “Wait, wait. Stop,” Robby called out from assessing injuries. “O-positive for males over 13, women over 55,” he stated as he walked over. “O-neg for everybody else.”

            “Hook me up,” Mohan called out.

            Jack came back over, placing an IO in. “IO’s in. Go with O-pos,” he stated. “When there’s no time, bone marrow infusion is as good as an IV.” He worked beside her. Then glanced over to Robby. “Robby, stabilise for the flip.”

            Robby came over as Y/N rounded back to help them flip the patient over to look at the wounds. “He’s got a wound on both sides,” Y/N muttered, looking it over.       “He’s gonna need two chest tubes,” she said, looking over at Jack, who just nodded.

            “Yeah,” he muttered.

            Robby agreed as well. “Need a hand?” he asked.

            “Hell no. I got two hands,” Jack replied before looking up, “and Y/N.” Then Robby was off. Jack started reciting orders to Y/N as she grabbed supplies and helped insert chest tubes with Jack.

            Robby came back over, looking over Jack and Y/N as they worked. “Not a lot of test tube output here,” he said.

            Jack held up a tube. “Looks like this one’s renal,” he said.

            “Golden ticket, directly to surgery!” Walsh called out. Y/N moved to pull the bars up on the gurney, unclicking the brakes.

            “That’s three out of four ORs down,” Robby stated.

            “Another four about to open and all 25 will be ready by the time we need them,” Walsh replied.

            “We could be buried by then,” Robby responded. As Jack, Y/N, Robby and Walsh started to move the gurneys out of the trauma room.

            “No, you won’t. We’ll blast through these, tying off bleeders and slapping on vacuum dressings. We’ll finish the job in a day or two when the dust settles,” Walsh replied as they moved.

            Then they jumped to the next patient. Y/N was already grabbing the oxygen bag, pumping oxygen through the tube.

            “Gunshot to the head,” Jack spoke.

            “Through and through,” Robby responded.

            “Yeah, we still got a strong pulse,” Jack replied. “This one can make it because the intracranial bleed can decompress through the bullet holes.”

“Wash, neurosurgery in house?” Robby called out.

“Yes, send him to the neurocrit ICU. They’ll triage from there,” Walsh replied.

Then they pushed the gurney off to surgery before jumping onto the next one.

-

Jack and Y/N were working, jumping from patient. Some stabilised, some to surgery and some died. Y/N wasn’t thinking about it, just getting her hands bloody and following orders.

            “Listen up!” Dana called out. Jack and Y/N glanced to her before back to their patient. “Central 7, 8, 9 is now the blood donor centre. Anyone who’s O-neg or O-pos, we need you to donate now. Hands where I can see them.” Dana threw her hand up while glancing around. People placed their hands up. “Ok, let’s do this.”

            Jack looked at Y/N. “Go donate, Dove,” he said before looking down. “You’re O-pos,” he stated before going back to the patient. “I’m going to do it soon,” he added.

            Y/N stared at him for a moment, swallowing. “I can’t donate,” she muttered, squeezing the oxygen bag.

            Jack’s brows furrowed. “Why can’t you donate? Have you already donated?” he asked, continuing to work.

            “No, I just can’t donate right now,” she responded.

            “Another nurse can take over. Go donate,” he said, voice gruff.

            Y/N sighed. “Jack, you’re not hearing me. I can’t donate,” she said again. However, she couldn’t donate because she was pregnant hours ago and had a miscarriage. People who are pregnant or who have had a miscarriage within six weeks can’t donate as she was less than 12 weeks pregnant.

            Jack finally looked up from the patient.

            “Why not?” he asked, brow furrowed, tone still clipped from the adrenaline. “You’re not sick. You’re not on antibiotics. No blood-borne diseases. What’s the issue?”

            Y/N kept her eyes on the patient, hand steady as she continued her job. But her face had gone pale, lips pressed tight.

            “I just can’t, Jack.”

            He paused, eyes narrowing, not because he was angry, but because she wasn’t telling him something. She never snapped like that unless something was wrong. Really wrong.

            “Dove, he said more quietly, leaning toward her. “What’s going on?”

            “Nothing,” she muttered quickly, eyes flickering from his and looking back at the patient. He didn’t buy it. Not for a second.

            “Y/N, look at me,” he hissed, voice low, not mad, but stern.

            Y/N glanced up at him. His whiskey-coloured eyes, jaw tight as he stared at her. His gown was covered in blood, hands were too with safety glasses on. They stared at one another. He raised a brow. “Why?” he asked, voice low. “Tell me now.”

            She stayed quiet for a moment. This was not how she planned on telling him, but she couldn’t lie. He’d stiff it out.

            “Y/N,” he said again.

            “You can’t donate blood within six weeks of miscarriage if you were less than twelve weeks pregnant,” she mumbled, looking back down.

            His gaze was still on her. Jack remained motionless. The world around them kept moving – monitors beeped, staff shouted vitals, the ER was pulsing with pressure and blood and trauma, but for Jack, everything stopped as he narrowed down at her.

            “What?” he said, not loud…flat. Disbelieving. Like his brain had frozen for a second and needed her to rewind. He was a careful listener. Never since she had known him was he someone who asked people to repeat things.

            Y/N swallowed hard, her gloves slick with someone else’s blood. She didn’t look back up.

            “You heard me. So, drop it,” she whispered. Then she went back to her work.

            Jack didn’t move. “When did it happen?” he asked.

            “I said drop it,” she responded.

            Jack’s chest rose slowly, like he was trying to control something deep, rage, grief, panic, all of it slamming into him at once with no space to release. He took a half a step back, jaw clenched as he stared at her.

            “Dove–“

            “Not now, Dr. Abbot,” she said. “We have patients–“

            “When were you going to tell me?” he asked.

            Y/N groaned, rolling her head back. “Tonight. I was going to tell you tonight.”

            His brows furrowed for a second, brain calculating, then he whispered, “You miscarried today, didn’t you?” he asked. “You were late this morning. Off. Blunt with me.”

            Y/N stared at him. “I was going to tell you tonight. Everything, ok? Everything. But, I will be honest, you coming in here wearing the ring she put on your finger as you said vows made me not want to tell you tonight because you only wear it when you’re not doing ok.”      Jack stood there, eyes locked on hers, his chest still rising too slowly – like every breath had to be forced. His jaw twitched once. Then again.

            “That ring’s not about her,” he said, voice low, thick. “It’s about loss. It’s about what I couldn’t fix. What I failed to keep alive. I rushed over here once I heard about this on the police scanner. Totally forgot it was on.” Y/N just stared at him, and he stared back. “You should’ve told me this morning, Dove. I literally pulled you aside and–”

            They stared at one another. “You have no right to be mad, Jack.”    

            “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed,” he said lowly. “Because we made this clear that we are in this as teammates, partners, and we don’t hide things from one another. We don’t suffer alone. We don’t debate about telling the other something because you’re being petty about something from my past. We’ve been together for six years, Y/N. You know better.”

            Y/N stared at him. Wide eyes as those words came out. She shook her head, then called out for another nurse. “Fuck you, Jack,” she muttered, handing the oxygen bag to Holly and she walked away.

            “Y/N!” he called out, but she continued to walk away from him. “Jesus,” he muttered before jumping back to his patient.

            Robby glanced over, seeing them, looking over at Jack, then Y/N as she went to a different patient. Why were they ending their normal teamwork? Was Robby’s question.

-

Y/N was with Dr. Mohan, trying to stabilise a patient. It might’ve been fifteen minutes since Y/N walked away from Jack. She could not think about that now. She needed to get through this without thinking about her personal problems. She was at work. This was the time to think about work.

            “Need some help with an airway!” Mohan called out as Y/N held the intubation tube with one hand and pressed a gauze on a wound with the other.

            “What is it?” Robby asked, coming over.

            “GSW to the neck with expanding hematoma and distorted anatomy – can’t intubate him. Probably hit the carotid,” Mohan explained as Robby jumped in. Y/N removed the gauze so he could look at it.

            “Ok,” Robby muttered.

            “I’ll do the airway,” she heard that distinct voice behind her. Closing her eyes, she glanced to Jack who looked at her for a moment before grabbing his pen light to check the pupils.

            “Ace, give me a 6.5 and a bougie,” Robby called out and Y/N moved, grabbing supplies.

            “I got the bleeder,” Jack said, flashing the pen light into the patient’s eyes. Then he looked up at Y/N. “Kid, Foley catheter with a 30 cc balloon,” he said, voice low and stern.

            “Are you donating?” Mohan asked as Y/N came back.

            “O-neg, yeah,” he muttered before looking at Y/N who gave him the supplies. She glanced down at his leg, the left one (which was not his prosthetic) had a bag attached to it with bandage holding it to his leg.

            Y/N scoffed, shaking her head.

            “It’s too bloody to see a bougie,” Mohan replied.

            “Not for this. Three-step process. Step one, scalpel,” Robby replied, slicing the patient’s neck. “Step two, finger. Step three, bougie.” Robby said as Y/N handed them supplies when asked for.

            The balloon inflated on the device once inserted.

            “Ok, railroad in the tube,” Jack muttered.

Y/N grasped the tube, helping insert it further.

            “Ok, bag him,” Robby called out as he grabbed the bag.

            “Dressing off,” Jack muttered. “Foley’s in. Blow up a balloon.”

            “30 cc’s in,” Mohan replied as they worked.

            “Clamping,” Jack said as Y/N took the bag from Robby, slowly starting to squeeze it to give oxygen. “Look at that,” Jack replied, smirking as he looked up to his audience. “Dry as a bone.”

            “Woohoo!” Robby replied, smirking as well. Then talked about the logistics of moving the patient to the OR.

            Once wheeled away, Jack stood in front of Y/N. They didn’t say anything, but she could tell through his eyes that he was sympathetic. He walked up to her, leaning in and whispering, “I love you. Ok?” Y/N nodded. He didn’t say it a lot. A man of few words when it comes to feelings, but he shows it in ways. So, to hear that, her heart warmed. “Come. Help me. You’re my sidekick,” he stated, nodding to the next patient.

            Jack walked over to his backpack, the camo one he brought everywhere with him. He was looking for things in it while Y/N stood next to him. “I found out yesterday,” she whispered. He looked over. “That I was pregnant.”

            He nodded. “Dana was the one who suggested it. Never crossed my mind,” she began to whisper as he continued to look in his bag. “So, I haven’t been keeping this from you for a long time. I worked the day shift yesterday, you came in for the night shift. I went home, saw you this morning. I just haven’t been able to see you one-on-one and I know you, Jack. You wouldn’t want me to tell you at work.” He nodded. “I miscarried around two p.m. today. Twenty-four hours, all it was between finding out about it and losing it.”

            Then he glanced over at her, seeing her leaning against the nurses’ station while he was fishing for supplies in his bag. He bit down on his lip. “Ok, we will talk more at home. Just,” he sighed, “don’t suffer alone. Ok?” She nodded. Then Jack spotted Robby and Mohan with a police officer patient. “Come,” he said, brushing her arm and pulling her to him.

            “You’re doing a crike?” Jack asked as he stood next to the gurney.

            “Yep,” Robby replied. Y/N came over, taking over for Princess so she could go help another patient. “No skin hooks, no bougie…old school,” Robby added.

            “I got a tactical airway in my bag here,” Jack said, looking up and smirking as he brought out the kit.

            “What is that?” Mohan asked.

            “Fun. It’s a kit of fun,” Y/N muttered, chuckling. Jack and his emergency medicine supplies he kept at home…

            “It’s a control crike kit,” Jack said as he began to unpack it.

            “Oh, that’s perfect,” Robby replied. “Use that on the battlefield.”

            “Works in the pitch-dark when you’re under fire,” Jack replied pulling the supplies and starting to use them. “I can do these with my eyes closed.” Then he started to show Mohan how to do it. “The knife leaves a trach hook behind, so you can’t miss, right? Just,” he mumbled, inserting the knife and hook, “good. You slide in the introducer.” Jack was perfect at it. Absolutely perfect and he looked up to Y/N then back down. “Feel the tracheal rings. Good. Bob’s your uncle,” Jack said, pulling away. The crike was performed.

            Y/N smirked, chuckling and shaking her head.

            “That was incredibly fast,” Mohan replied.

            Jack glanced up and just shrugged as if it was nothing, no big deal.

“Ballon is up,” Robby muttered.

“Why don’t we stock these?” Mohan asked.

“No room in the budget,” replied Robby.

Y/N looked at Mohan. “They are like three hundred bucks for a kit,” she said, shrugging, connecting the tube to the bag so the patient could get oxygen. “Yellow on end-tidal,” Y/N muttered, looking up.

Everyone smiled and gleamed when Y/N said that.

“It’s ok now?” the officer behind her asked. The patient was a police officer on the table.

“Yeah,” Jack responded, nodding.

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot,” Robby hummed, smirking. Fist bumps went all around. “Ok, let’s pack the oral cavity with Kerlix and see how fast Head and Neck can take him up to the OR,” Robby said to the team. “Great job everybody.”

They all nodded and Robby stepped away.

Mohan looked at Jack. “What else do you got in your go bag?” she asked, grinning, impressed with his tricks and tools.

“Oh, just wait and see,” he responded with a hum before Mohan walked away.

Y/N looked at him as she continued squeezing the bag. “Impressive, Captain,” she whispered, and he looked at her, shrugged.

“You know how to do it,” he responded, “could’ve done it, Kid.”

Y/N stared at him. “You’re telling me now?” she whispered, yelled. “You seriously would’ve let me use your emergency crike kit on this patient?” Her voice was full of excitement but also disappointment because she missed her opportunity.

“Yeah, but you didn’t ask,” he hummed. “All my late-night date night teaching gone to waste,” he joked.

“You didn’t suggest it!” she scoffed. He just smiled at her wickedly. “Fucking tease.”

            However, before Jack could retort, someone screamed “Gun!” multiple times. Instantly, Jack’s hand was on Y/N’s back, commanding and pulling her down with him to the ground. His hand stayed there, glancing over at her, but she was more focused on seeing what was happening. She tried to look, but Jack pulled her back.

            “Stay down,” he hissed, looking straight into her eyes. Y/N just nodded.

            The SWAT team went over, grabbing the gun from the patient who had it strapped to his foot.

            “All clear,” Langdon called out.

            Y/N and Jack slowly stood up again.

            “Fucking hell,” she muttered before walking to another patient.

-

Y/N was with Jack when Leah came in, Jake’s girlfriend. Y/N was still working alongside Jack. “Jake’s here,” Y/N muttered to Jack. “With his new girlfriend, Leah. They went to PittFest together,” she told Jack. Jake and Beckett were close. Jake was seventeen and Beckett just about to hit twenty. The five of them – Jack, Y/N, Beckett, Robby and Jake have gone to events and or even camping trips together.

            Jack glanced up to look at Robby who was helping Leah.

            “Doesn’t look good,” he muttered to Y/N.

“Do you want me to go over there?” she asked him as he worked around her. “To Robby?”

            Jack looked at her, shaking his head. “Too many bodies, stay here,” he stated, then gave her commands on what to do.

            They continued to work together, but both would secretly look up to check on what was happening to Leah in the distance. However, it did not look promising.

            Jack glanced up at Robby. “What’s your next move, boss?” he called out.

            “Platelets, another unit. And then we can transfuse her with her own blood from the Pleur-evac to get ahead,” Robby called out. “Hang the cell saver.”

            Jack and Y/N met eyes and shook their heads together.

            “Squeeze all this in?” Dana asked.

            “No. Three-way stopcock on a 60-cc syringe,” Robby replied to Dana. “I’ll push-pull.”

            “Jack, this,” Y/N tried, but Jack nodded.

            “I know, Kid.” Then he looked over to Robby. “Not exactly in our mass casualty game plan,” he called over to Robby while squeezing a bag of blood into his patient.

            Robby continued to do compressions, and Y/N just shook her head.

            Minutes later, they overheard how Leah still didn’t have a pulse, compressions were still going, and several units of blood had been used. Jack muttered something under his breath. Something about Robby not being able to divide the work with the personal in this situation.

            “Jack, that’s his stepson’s girlfriend,” Y/N tried to reason as they worked.

            “I know,” Jack replied. “But if this were any other day, all good. But right now, we are in a mass casualty, and this is going against the plan. She is using up supplies,” he told her, briefing looking at her.

            “What if it was Beckett and he had a girlfriend–“ Y/N tried. Jack had been in Beckett’s life since he was fourteen. Y/N raised him since he was four after her mother ditched them. Beckett was like Jack’s son.

            “We are not playing ‘what if’ right now, Kid,” he stated. “This is not the time for that game. So, I’m not going to be answering that question.” Dana walked over to grab more blood from the cooler. Jack noticed. “Four units,” he muttered. Then he called out, “Blood is for the ones we can save.”

            Robby replied instantly, “She is right on the edge. One more can make the difference.”

            Y/N and Jack finished stabilising their patient. “O-neg. Monitor the pulse. She’s stable for trauma ICU if an OR’s not ready,” he called out to the nurse who was taking their patient away now.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at Dana. Jack then glanced up. The couple were looking at the charge nurse, raising a brow. Dana just shook her head. Jack instantly removed the safety glasses and came over to Leah. Y/N followed.

He stood next to Robby. Y/N kept her distance. “How many units so far?” he asked.

Robby took a deep breath, but didn’t answer.

“Four, plus the cell saver,” a nurse said.

“Last one?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Robby muttered, shaking his head. “Dana, why don’t we try a little TXA? 1,000 milligrams of TXA might help her clot,” Robby spoke up.

“Got it,” Dana replied.

Y/N kept standing there, behind Jack. Her hand reached out but then pulled away. She took a deep breath.

“Bullet tore through her heart,” Jack muttered before looking at his friend. “Anyone else with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can’t keep up with the blood loss. If she were our only patient, we’d do a thoracotomy, maybe ECMO. But even then, I doubt we’d get her back,” Jack continued, voice low.

“Robby, we’re gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving this girl,” Y/N spoke up.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Exactly. Kid’s right,” he muttered.

Robby glanced over his shoulder, looking at the scene. Y/N’s eyes darted between Jack’s and then to Robby.

“Got the TXA,” Dana replied.

Robby looked back over. “Ok, push it fast, and we’ll do another pulse check. And then can you get me a vascular Doppler too, please?” Robby asked, looking at Dana.

Jack placed his glasses back on, looking at Y/N. She stayed quiet.

“GSW to the chest, faint pulse,” someone called out, and Y/N instantly turned, grabbing gloves and walking over.

“Jack,” she called over her shoulder.

Jack broke his eye contact with Robby to the incoming patient. “Intubation, IO, chest tube, and a unit of blood,” he called out.

“On it,” Y/N replied, then Jack came over.

They were working when Santos appeared in front of them. Y/N glanced over as Jack kept focus.

“Where’s Robby?”

“In BH-2 with the possible shooter,” Princess replied.

“Can you guys take a new patient?” Santos asked.

This made Jack look up to the intern. “Not right now. What do you got?” he asked, looking at her briefly before going back to his work.

“Hypotensive pelvic bleed,” Santos replied.

“Transfuse two units. We’ll get to it,” Jack replied. However, then Langdon called for Jack.

“Abbot! I got a carotid injury, popped a clot!” Langdon called out.

“I’ll be right there!” Jack replied, then he looked at Y/N. “Kid, take over. You know what to do,” he said, patting her on the back and leaving. Y/N jumped in.

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