#(Hope everyone is enjoying their day; I will be going back to work soon.)

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 4 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 9.8k

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

-

1200

Y/N finally looked at her phone again. It was little past twelve and she had a moment to breathe. Opening her phone, she saw a few messages. One from Jack around a few minutes ago: “Jesus, dove, woke up to this novel of a text. Sounds good about dinner. I’ll grab ingredients soon. Dogs are good. Going to walk them in a bit. About Dolly, send me a link, but can’t promise anything. We have four already…  Just be smug to Robby back and put him in his place. Beckett can crash, but can we talk before he comes? Just need to debrief with you. Let Beckett know that the guest bed is made, but if he leaves his socks in the kitchen again, I’m going to make him clean the bathroom. Talk soon.���

            She nodded, reading it before going to the next message that was from Beckett. “Fire. Talked to Mom a few days ago. She met a lad at the legion and now thinks she has found her soulmate. Let’s see how long this one lasts…”

            Y/n chuckled, nodding before closing her phone. Robby gathered everyone and debriefed with them all about charting. It was a standard lecture about how to improve patient satisfaction scores, to get the hospital more money and to be through with diagnosing.

            Y/N finally got the tests results back for Nick Riley, glancing over them, she sighed. The kid did OD over fentanyl. Basically the same age as Beckett.

            “Robby,” Y/N said, getting up and walking over to him. She was wearing a cardigan now, a hot pink one, due to her being cold. “Nick Riley’s cerebral perfusion study is back,” she told him, handing him the tablet.

            She watched him take a deep breath as he glanced over the tablet to see the results. A loud sigh came before subtle nods. “No blood flow past the brain stem. Ok,” he muttered, looking over at her. “How are you holding up?” he asked, sending her a silent nudge.

            Y/N stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. Grand. Good,” she muttered and shook her head lightly. “A lot of death today.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Jack had a rough night as well,” he explained.

            Y/N nodded. “Must be a full moon,” she mumbled. “Or a retrograde.” He just stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “How are you holding up, Chief?” she asked. “You don’t usually work this day. I’ve been caught up with my shit and didn’t think about you. Just checking in.”

            He stared at her for a moment, debating whether to talk, but thought not to. “Just another day in paradise,” he responded. “I’m fine,” he added as she stared at him for a moment with a raised brow. “You sound like Dana.”

            “We are cut from the same cloth,” Y/N replied, sending a smirk. “What do you want me to do with Nick?” she asked, going back to work.

            “Let me know when the transplant people from CORE arrive,” he said to her.

            “Yeah, totally,” she replied before turning away and leaving to check on her patients.

            Y/N was so close to winning the bet, but Collin’s got her by one factor. She had crash and the catch wrong, which Collin’s got right. Robby made fun of her for a bit, saying she did her calculations wrong, but Y/N shoved it off. She muttered something like, “Better at counting cards than making bets. There’s a mathematical equation to it which you can never get wrong when you do it correctly.”

            Dana and Robby just stared at her as if she had two heads.

            The ER was in its usual state of chaos, monitors beeping, sneakers squeaking, call lights flashing, trauma bay doors opening and swinging. It was just another day. Busy, hectic and chaotic.

            Y/N was standing leaning against the counter lightly as she wrote something on the computer. Her reading glasses on her nose as she ran a hand down her face. She was focused, humming lowly under her breath some song that Jack showed her a few days ago. He was about educating her on real music, whatever that meant.

            Robby approached her. “How many cups of coffee have you had?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “I don’t know. Maybe four,” she muttered, not thinking. “Did you get me one? I would love you forever. I didn’t sleep last night.”

            He stared at her, but she was focused on the computer.

            “You know, you’re only supposed to have two cups of coffee a day max while pregnant,” he whispered, leaning into her. Y/N slowly glanced up to him, face falling.

            “Fuck,” she whispered.

            “How far along are you?” he asked, raising a brow.

            “Seven weeks,” she whispered back. “Oh my God,” she whispered again, “the fetal heart rate is going to be increasing, and it could impair oxygenation. It can also increase a miscarriage.” She was whispering more to herself. She glanced down at the floor, trying to calm herself. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered, voice filled with worry.

            Robby instantly softened. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly, voice gentle but steady. “Hey, hey, breathe, Ace.”

            She nodded, but her hand was already on her stomach like could somehow undo the caffeine with her palms. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even – fuck, Robby, what if I messed something up?” Her voice cracked on the last word, quiet but filled with a rising panic she didn’t often allow anyone to see.

            “You didn’t,” he said firmly. “Y/N, just stop, ok? Deep breaths. It’s not like you shot espresso into your veins through an IV. Four cups ins’t great, but its not catastrophic.”

            She bit down her lip, looking at him through wide, glassy eyes. “I know better, though. I fucking know better.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, you do. But you also haven’t slept. You’ve been working all week and you’ve been carrying this secret around, trying to function like nothing has changed. You’re stressed. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you human.”

            Her eyes dropped again, and she gave him a small nod. “Thanks, Robby,” she hummed.

            “Where’s that giant water bottle you carry around? The pink one? Let me fill it with water and electrolytes, vitamins and all that jazz. Get you hydrated,” he said with a smile, patting her on the back.

            “It’s at my station,” she replied. “Thanks.”

            He nodded. “Anytime. But before I do that, I do need your advice on something,” he told her, looking at her.

            Y/N nodded. “Yeah, shoot.”

            “It’s really weird and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. I don’t know if you’ve seen something like this or read about it…”

            She slowly nodded, pressing save on the chart she was working on and turning her full attention to him. “Talk to me.”

            “There’s a woman who came in this morning. Nausea, vomiting, lightheaded, fatigue, that sort of thing. Vitals were fine. Blood work clean. Nothing to show what was happening. With a few questions, she finally admitted that she had taken an induced vomiting drug. Made herself sick to get here.”

            Y/N raised a brow. “Factitious Disorder?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

            He shook his head. “Thought that, but no. She wants help. Told me her son is planning on killing some schoolgirls.”

            Y/N’s face doesn’t change, instead she just stared at him. “Repeat that?”

            Robby leaned forward, voice low. “She said her teenage son has a list of girls he wants to kill. A hit list. She found it. Doesn’t know who to tell. Doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should get the police involved – McKay said I should. Dad died due to COVID. Kid ran off when I questioned.”

            Y/N exhaled. “Holy shit, ok.”

            “Yeah,” Robby nodded. “I’ve never had anything like this in the decades of medicine I’ve been practising. I mean, what do I even do? I’m not psych. This isn’t my wheelhouse.”

            Y/N doesn’t hesitate. “First, you need to document everything. Everything. Everything he mentioned, every action he did. Anything. Everything mom says and does as well. Trauma can cause idealisations like this. Or other mental health disorders. Mom brought him here, which means there’s an element of seeking help rather than hiding it. That’s important.”

            Robby nods slowly, absorbing.

            “Second,” Y/N continues, her tone soft but confident, “you are talking to her like she’s in a crisis. This is not a crisis right now. Do not make her more worried than she is right now. This is terrifying for her. You need to build therapeutic rapport.”

            Robby furrowed his brows. “I’m not a therapist, Y/N.”

            She shrugged. “Well, sometimes you need to be. Therapeutic rapport is building a bond, trust between you and the patient. No judgment. Be empathic, validate her feelings, make her feel safe. Hear the whole story. Moms know their kids. I know you’re good at rapport. I’ve seen it.”

            He nodded.

            “Ask her how she’s coping. Ask if there’s anyone helping her – therapists, counsellors, psychologists, even family. A support system needs to be created. She’s not crazy, she’s worried. She’s a mother whose son might be a danger to others, she’s scared shitless.”

            He nodded. “What about the son?”

            Y/N shrugged. “He’s a minor, right?” Robby nodded. “It’s not a ‘tell the school’ issue. You need to report this. Don’t call the police. Police don’t know how to deal with cases like this without making it seem criminal. Get psych involved, even social work. I can help do. But right now, your job is the mom. Talk to her. Sit down. Be human. It’s not about diagnosing, it’s about understanding the pain that this kid is going through and how you can support the family. If that makes sense. It’s not black or white, Robby. Tough with situations like this.”

            Robby looked at her for a beat, then chuckled softly. “You can be terrifying when you’re calm like this.”

            She hummed. “Did my time in mental health, remember? Three years of working in the psych ward as a mental health worker. I’ve sat on too many cold tile floors with kids who thought no one would ever understand them. You don’t forget that. Being a teenager is hard, especially in this day of age.” Y/N squeezed his arm. “I have a teenager brother. It’s hard for them.”

            Robby nodded. “Thanks. I mean it.”

            Y/N bumped her shoulder with his. “You got this, Cowboy. Just be kind. Active listening. That’s all people ever really need.” He sent her a smile. “Want me to come? Jump in if needed?”

  ��         He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, too many bodies. She might freak out.”

            Y/N nodded. “Absolutely valid. Go be a therapist for a second. Might even boost your patient satisfaction scores,” she hummed, smiling.

            Robby chuckled, shaking his head and walking away.

-

Dana came up to Y/N a little while later. “Have you eaten, sweetheart?” she asked, leaning to look at her.

            Y/N shook her head. “Not since this morning when Jack shoved a sandwich down my throat and then I puked it up,” she replied, humming.

            “Come on, Mama,” she hummed, hooking her arm with the nurse and pulling her to the break room.

            Once they got there, there were several bags filled with sandwiches. Instantly, Y/N then felt her hunger, sitting down and going through the bags.

            “Ugh,” McKay groaned, “the things I would do for pastrami.”

            Y/N smirked, going through the boxes to find something she could eat. It was recommended not to eat cold cuts when pregnant, so she was searching for something.

            “Is there a turkey and cheese?” Princess asked, glancing over.

            “Uh, yeah,” Y/N replied, handing her a box.

            The door opened, and Robby came in. “Oh, what is all this?” he asked.

            “Lunch. Primanti’s. It appears that we have at least one grateful patient,” Dana replied, looking over her shoulder to see Robby.

            Robby smirked. “Hope is alive. Who do we have to thank?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. I think there’s a card at the bottom of the bag,” Dana said.

            Robby found it, reading it over, however he placed it down, face fallen. “Enjoy your lunch,” he responded, then looked over at Y/N. “But you…eat,” he lectured, pointing at the young nurse.

            “I am!” she hollered back, mouth full of food.

            “Good.” Then he left the room.

            Y/N noticed the wicked change of behaviour from the old man within seconds. Brows furrowed; she grabbed the card.

            “What was that?” Whitaker asked.

            “Don’t know,” Dana replied.

            Y/N sighed. “It’s from Shelby Adamson, Dr. Adamson’s sister,” Y/N replied, handing the card to Dana.

            “She sends something every year,” Dana muttered, sighing.

            “He doesn’t like her?” Whitaker asked.

            Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s about that. It’s about him,” she whispered, biting into her sandwich again.

            “Dr. Adamson was Robby’s mentor and he…he died during COVID, so,” Dana replied, another deep sigh came from her.

-

1300

Y/N got called for a potential drug-induced patient or even psych. Nandi, an influencer who was erratic. Y/N stood next to Robby, arms crossed, as Donnie administered some drugs and Santos and Mohan tried to get the patient’s history.

            “Javadi, Whitaker, see if you can do the exam,” Robby said, looking over to the med students.

            They nodded. Javadi took out her pen light. “Can you look at the light?” she asked as Whitaker took vitals.

            Instantly, the patient flinched, hiding herself away from the light. “No. What was that?” she expressed.

            “Ok. Open your mouth?” Javadi tried.

            The patient was curled up, scared and filled with fear. Y/N continued to watch the behaviour, glancing over to Robby, who gave her a look.

            “No. It’s not real. Where am I?” the patient continued to express, voice filled with fear.

            “How do you even do an exam with a patient like this?” Whitaker asked.

            Nandi continued to be paranoid.

            “Observe her. Wait for her to look at you or open her mouth, and get a quick look. Make sure she moved her arms and legs equally,” Mohan explained to the med students.

            Donnie tried to get the patient hooked up to the monitor, but she was fighting.

            “Alright, we might need to wait until after the meds kick in,” Robby explained, arms still crossed as he looked at the patient. Then he called everyone out of the room. Y/N followed suit.

            Once out of the room, Y/N stood in front of Robby, glancing back as she tried to think of what could possibly have happened. However, Robby let out a sigh.

            “Ok, differential diagnosis?” he asked.

            “Schizophrenia, first psychotic break. She’s in the right age range,” Javadi suggested.

            Y/n slowly nodded. Robby too. “Yeah, what else?” he said.

            “Drugs, also common in this age group,” Whitaker explained.

            “Common in any age group,” Y/N replied.

            “Exactly,” Robby said. “What else?”

            “Not just recreational drugs. It could also be toxicity to medications,” Javadi tried.

            Y/N nodded again, thinking that could be a possibility as well.

            “Don’t just jump to conclusions,” Mohan reminded. “Think big categories and then specifics.”

            “Metabolic, hyper- or hyponatremia, calcium, hepatic encephalopathy,” Whitaker brainstormed.

            “Endocrine, hyperthyroid, infectious encephalitis,” Javadi added.

            “These are all possibilities,” Robby muttered, looking down at the floor for a second. “Ok, let’s work her up medically and see if we can clear her.” Then he glanced at the patient through the window.

            “Chem panel, CBC, TSH and T4, drug screen, and hCG,” Mohan muttered, saying the tests they need to do.

            “Yep. Keep me posted. If it’s all negative, then admit her to psych,” Robby ordered, nodding at the team before walking off.

            Y/N nodded, turning back to the patient to help stabilise her so they could get the tests done.

-

Y/N watched Robby’s behaviour for an hour. The way he was snappier, grumpier and a little bit too harsh with his tone. She figured it could be because he was hangry or perhaps due to the fact that it was Adamson’s death day. However, she needed to talk to him. She needed him to talk to her and for her to express that he can’t talk the way he does to his team.

            When she spotted him exiting the bathroom, she made her way, stopping in front of him. He stared at her for a moment, raising a brow.

            “You, me, talk, now,” she barked, pointing to the hallway.

            “Y/N,” he tried, voice low and warning.

            She shook her head. “Nope. You’re talking to me,” she explained, grabbing his arm and pulling him.

            “I’m a busy man, Y/N. I don’t have time–“

            “Don’t care. You need a moment to decompress. To breathe. So, we will go to the corner and hash it out,” she barked back, stopping in a spot where no one could see them. “You’re being harsh to the kids. A little bit too blunt, which isn’t like you, Robby–“

            He stared at her for a moment before glancing away, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince her.

            She shook her head. “You’re off today. I’m not the only one who sees it.”

            He scoffed.

            “You’re snapping. Chewing the kids out like they stole your car. Something’s going on, so tell me,” Y/N explained, nudging him. “Just between us.”

            He glanced at her, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place – exhaustion, maybe. Pain. Or both. His jaw clenched.

            “Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “Not everything needs to be dissected with your psych degree and nurse intuition. Maybe I’m just in a bad fucking mood.”

            She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t snap at people because of a bad mood. That’s not who you are. Also, you need to be professional, Robby. If it is a bad mood, stop impacting other people. We need to work as a team.”

            Robby looked away again, like he was trying to swallow something that didn’t want to go down. “You ever think that maybe I’m just a ride for people expecting me to hold it together?” he muttered.

            Y/N softened when he muttered that. “Then talk it out. Say it. Don’t lash out at them. You’re their attending, Robby, their mentor. The chief of the ER. They look up to you.”

            He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, today they’re looking up to a man who’s–“ He sighed.

            She stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever trusted to go into hell with and come out on the other side. But not like this. Not when you’re burning people with you.” He blinked. Once. Twice. “It’s ok to not be ok.”

            Then his tone dropped, almost broken as he glanced down.

            “It’s Adamson’s anniversary.”

            She nodded slowly. “I figured.”

            “And then all the fucking deaths, chaos. It’s just–“

            “It’s a day, Robby. Too much in one day,” she replied, sending him a small smile.

 He nodded, breathing harder now. “I just. Everyone expects us to fix things and sometimes I don’t know how to fix things.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re not supposed to fix everything, Robby,” she said gently. “But it’s ok to not be ok. We are doing our best. All of us.” Robby stared at her. “We aren’t superheroes. We aren’t God or whatever people believe in. We are just ER cowboys trying to win the rodeo,” she replied.

            There was a long pause, and Robby looked like he might finally crack. His mouth opened but then Y/N’s face shifted.

            Instantly, she grasped the wall as she clasped her stomach, holding it. Wincing, as she held her breath.

            Robby watched her, eyes widening. “Y/N?” he asked, instantly, alarm.

            Her brows furrowed as she continued to feel the intense cramps. “Fuck,” she whispered before shaking her head. “No, no, no, you do not get to do this.” Y/N bent over, both hands covering her stomach now.        

            Robby stepped closer, his voice soft but urgent. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

            Y/N glanced up at him, colour draining from her face. He said her name again, hand coming out to hold her, but instantly, she pushed past him. Robby turned, seeing her beginning to try her best with walking away.

            “Y/N,” he tried, walking after her.

            “I’m fine, go back to work,” she whispered, breathy.

            He scoffed. “No, no. You’re not fine,” he said, trying to reach for her, but she pulled away.

            She turned to him. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” she barked. “Do not follow me.”

            Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving Robby standing here, pulse pounding in his ears.

            He knew it. He knew exactly what was happening. And this time, he couldn’t fix it either.

-

1400

Y/N pushed the bathroom door open. She knew what was happening, biting down on her bottom lip, she closed the bathroom door, locking it. Sitting down on the toilet, she pulled her pants down and glanced at her underwear.

            Instantly, her stomach turned. Instantly, a sob came from her. Instantly, she closed her eyes and lost it.

            Blood. So much blood.

            She was miscarrying.

            Sitting there, she let it happen. She let everything happen. Y/N closed her eyes, sitting there on the toilet. Her pants were down, her hands were on her knees, and the tears just came. Y/N knew it was going to happen. It happened before. The chance of her getting pregnant was slim, but the chance of her carrying to term was even slimmer.

            There was a piece of her that was hopeful. Bleeding can happen in pregnancy, and she was still in her first trimester, but as she opened her eyes again and looked at her underwear, she shook her head.

            This was not light bleeding. Not even close. This was truly a miscarriage.

            Y/N let the tears happen for minutes. She knew Robby would find her if she got spotted, but she couldn’t think about this right now.

            She just had to let herself grieve in solitude.

            Twenty-four hours. She had knowledge that she was pregnant for twenty-four hours. She found out around two o’clock the day prior and now it was just a little past two, and she was not pregnant anymore.

            Y/N took deep breaths. Allowing herself to calm herself down. Cleaning her underwear and grabbing a sanitary pad from the bathroom, she fixed herself up at the mirror. She had to go on. Few more hours. Few more hours and she could go home.

            Y/N knew Beckett wanted to come over today, but she couldn’t let him anymore. She needed to be alone. Tomorrow was her day off. She could wallow in her own pity or pretend it never happened.

            Then it hit her.

            Jack. Her sweet, old man, Jack. He had no idea. Not a single clue what was going on.

            There was no pregnancy anymore. There was no exciting news. There was no baby. There was no way she was going to tell him now.

            He didn’t know about the last miscarriage. They weren’t together at the time. She had her last one at twenty-two. Eight years ago. A different partner at the time. A whole other world.

            Y/N grasped the sink for a moment, wiping her tears before looking back up. She smiled, showed her teeth and then took a deep breath.

            She needed to confirm the miscarriage. She needed proof.

            Opening the door to the bathroom, she kept her head down, walking past everyone and making her way to the ultrasound machine that was standing by the nurses’ station. She grabbed it, wheeling it to Central 16. However, Robby watched her. Robby watched her with Dana next to him as Y/N tried to hide this from everyone.

            Instantly, he pushed off the leaning post against the station and followed suit.

            Y/N was in the trauma room, turning the ultrasound on while grabbing the gel, when the door opened.

            “Lie down,” Robby whispered. “Let me,” he said.

            Y/N turned her head, tear tear-stained face and reddened eyes. However, no more tears were thre. She froze for a second, gripping the ultrasound probe too tightly, knuckles white. The room was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that made everything echo, even your own breath.

            Y/N stared at him, no words, just shook her head in a silent ‘no’. Robby stepped forward gently, hands raised as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

            “Please, Ace,” he said softly. “Let me help.”

            She blinked slowly; tears welled again but didn’t fall. Her voice was nearly gone. “I know how to use an ultrasound machine, Robby,” she responded.

            “I know you can,” Robby replied. “But you shouldn’t have to do this. Not alone.”

            Y/N’s lips trembled. Her fingers loosened around the probe before she let it drop onto the tray beside the machine. She didn’t say anything – just walked slowly over to the medical bed and laid back, legs still tense, arms folded across her chest.

            Robby moved with care, grabbing a pair of gloves and setting up the ultrasound. He didn’t speak as he pulled, he pivacy curtain across the window and door. The room filled with a quiet hum of the machine warming up.

            “This is just to check, ok?” he said. His voice was steady and careful. “I’m going to use a little pressure.”

            She nodded without looking at him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. Mind racing as she took deep breaths. Tucking her shirt up, she exposed her stomach to him.

            Robby squirted the gel onto her lower abdomen and gently moved the probe into place. Y/N turned to look at the screen. Both of them did.

            Nothing.

            He tilted the wand slightly, adjusted angles.

            Still nothing.

            No heartbeat. No flicker. It was there yesterday, but today it was gone.

            The silence was deafening.    

            Robby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

            “Try transvaginally,” she whispered, staring at the screen. “It would be hard to see it as I’m so early. It’s more accurate.”

            Robby stared at her for a moment, watching as she broke her eye contact from the screen to look at the man, she was so close with. When their eye’s met the hope that was in Y/N’s eyes, the sparkle, was long gone since this morning. She knew the answer, but she was science-based and needed to know.

            “Ok,” he muttered, pulling the probe away.

            “Get me something to drape myself,” she muttered, and Robby nodded, handing her a sheet from a cart in the corner.

            Robby turned his back to her and Y/N pulled her pants down, underwear and all, before draping the sheet over her.

            “I’m bleeding,” she whispered, warning him. “Vaginally,” she muttered added. “Because I’m–“

            He nodded. “I know. It’s ok, Ace. I’ve got you.”

            He didn’t look at her body. He didn’t even glance. He just handed her the internal probe and told her she needed to insert it herself. Y/N sat on the gurney, knees up, legs spread as she inserted it.

            “It’s in, Robby,” she whispered.

            He nodded, finding the probe under the drape, his arm steadying on her knee, a comfort message as he looked back at the screen.

            Still nothing.

            Just the hollow blackness of an empty gestational sac. No flicker. No movement. The image that meant life twenty-four hours ago was now confirmation of loss.

            Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch. It was like her soul had gone quiet. Numb.

            Robby slowly removed the probe and stepped back, carefully covering her again. He went to open his mouth to explain the next steps when it comes to having a miscarriage, but Y/N stopped him.

            “Not my first rodeo, Cowboy,” she muttered with a hint of a joke, pulling her pants back up. “This is my third,” she casually said.

            Robby stared at her. Hearing such a secret, the vulnerability of her words. “Have you and Jack gone through this before?” he asked. “Were you trying?”

            She scoffed, shaking her head. “No and no. I was twenty-two last time. Then nineteen the first time,” she responded. Y/N was moving to sit on the edge of the medical bed, looking at Robby, who was staring at her like she was broken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

            “Like what?” he whispered, brows furrowed.

            “With pity,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Don’t tell Jack. Don’t ever tell Jack. Don’t ever bring it up to Jack. Jack will never know. Never ever know. This is my story. Not our story,” she said, words very deliberate and soft.

            Robby’s brows furrowed, jaw tightening. “Y/N–“

            “I’m fucking serious, Robby,” she snapped, eyes finally locking on this. “He’ll never know. You hear me? This is going with me to the grave.”

            “He loves you, Ace. So much,” Robby said quietly, eyes soft but firm. “He deserves to know. He would want to know. I would want to know if we were together,” he said.

            “But we aren’t,” she casually shrugged before glancing up at the ceiling. “Jack has had a hell of a life. So much loss. He doesn’t need this on top of it. He thought I couldn’t get pregnant. He made his peace with it. I don’t need to disrupt that.”

            Robby crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not good going through this alone,” he muttered.

            She shook her head. “Well, sometimes there are things you do have to conquer alone,” she responded, jumping off the bed and looking at the chief of the ER. “Patient-Doctor confidentiality, Robby. I was your patient,” she said. “Don’t tell Jack.”

            Robby swallowed, nodding. “Go home, Y/N,” he said, a little too sternly, a little too roughly. “Go home. We’ll cover you.”

            She stared at him, crossing her arms. “I’m not dying, Robby. I’m miscarrying, I’m fine–“

            “You’re emotional,” he whispered.

            Her head snapped to him. “Oh, fuck you, Robby,” she barked, shaking her head and walking to the door. “Burn the scan. Delete the images. This never happened,” she said. “Thank you, though, for being here for this minute.”

            Robby didn’t say anything as she opened the trauma room door. He just watched her walk away with fire in her step and devastation in her eyes.

            The minute the door clicked shut behind her, he ran a hand through his hair, then face through his beard and exhaled hard. This was the part of the job that hurt the most. Not the trauma, not the chaos. It was watching someone you love – really love – bleed silently and refuse to help.

            And Jack?

            Jack would lose his fucking mind if he knew what just happened in this room.

            Y/N went to the nurse’s station, sitting down and opening up the computer. Dana knew what was up. Robby mentioned Y/N tumbled in pain, and then she wheeled the ultrasound machine into the trauma room. She stayed silent for a moment, debating what to do with the young nurse who was pretending nothing happened.

            She walked over, pulling a seat next to Y/N.

            “Talk to me,” Dana whispered.

            “Rather not,” she replied, eyes focused on the screen. “But thank you for being like a mom to me,” she whispered. “Thank you for the support.”

            “Always, sweetheart,” Dana hummed back, touching her shoulder, squeezing it. “But I’m here.”

            Y/N nodded, halting her type before looking at Dana. “I’m going to give the same speech to you as I did to Robby. This is between us. Jack will never know. You hear me never know. Ever. It’s my story and I chose who gets to know,” she said quietly, voice sharp.

            Dana nodded staring at her for a moment. “Of course.” Then Dana moved away from Y/N, knowing that hovering wasn’t going to benefit her at all.

-

            Y/N instantly was on her feet when a child rolled in on a gurney. Paramedics announced she was a drowning victim. Y/N instantly grabbed gloves and hurried over.        

            “Amber Philips, six years old. Found at the bottom of a home pool with an unknown downtime. Asystole on the monitor,” the paramedics called out as Y/N hurried alongside them.

            “Intubated with a cuffed 4.5, 22-gauge left AC, 0.25 epi three minutes ago,” another called out.

            Y/N grasped the underlying sheet, as someone counted down before they moved the child from the gurney to the medical bed. Instantly, she was back to herself, grabbing supplies and working around the doctors.

            “Whitaker, take over compressions,” Robby called out before looking up. “Any family coming in?”

            “Grandma and little sister,” a paramedic called out.

            “Fast and deep,” Collin’s stated.

            Whitaker began doing compressions as Mel stepped in with her stethoscope. “She’s really cold.”

            Y/N heard that, knowing what that meant and nodded, already going to work before Robby could say anything.

            “Ace, get a core temp,” he called out.

            “On it already,” she replied.

            “Good breath sounds bilaterally,” Mel called out.

            “Should we use the Lucas?” Whitaker asked.

            “No, she’s way too small for that,” Collin’s replied.

            Y/N was grabbing her temperature, brows furrowed. “Rectal temp only 85.” Y/N shook her head. “Kid’s got moderate hypothermia,” she stated. Robby glanced at Y/N who was deep into her work.

            “Yeah,” he stated, nodding. “We need to get her up to 90 if we have any chance of restarting her heart.”

            They all nodded.

            “250 ccs heated saline. Set up the Arctic Sun. Continuous core temp monitoring, and prep another epi 0.25,” Collins called out, and Y/N instantly went to work grabbing the supplies and things needed.

            Robby just stood there, looking at Y/N. “Robby, if you keep staring, I will throttle you,” Y/N muttered, walking around him.

            He then nodded, out of his daze. “Yup,” he muttered, looking back at the patient.

            They continued to work on the patient, trying their best to bring her back. Y/N tried not to think that there was a little girl on the table, someone’s daughter.

            Grandma came in, sitting next to Amber.

            “She wasn’t breathing, so the medics put a tube in her throat,” Robby whispered to the grandmother.

            “She’s so cold,” Frances, the grandmother, called out, scared.

            “We’re warming her up. That way, she’ll have a better chance to respond to the medicines,” Robby explained, looking back at Y/N who refused to look him in the eye.

            “They moved a bench next to the pool fence so they could go over, because their soccer ball went in the water. Amber couldn’t make it out of the deep end. The gate was locked. I was vacuuming. I didn’t hear them,” Frances muttered, holding onto her granddaughter as she sniffed and sighed.

            Y/N’s heart broke hearing that, but she couldn’t think of that right now. She had a job to do.

            The parents came in soon after. Y/N watched them as the mother came to hold her daughter. Y/N swallowed.

            “Rhythm check. Hold compressions,” Collins called out.

            Whitaker took a step back. But the machine was flat lining.

            “Asystole. Resume compressions,” Collins ordered.

            Whitaker went back to CPR while Y/N held the breathing bag.

            “Three minutes since the last epi,” Y/N said.

            “Push another,” Collins replied.

            “Did you shock the heart?” the mother asked, glancing up.

            “Uh, no,” Robby replied, calmly, lowly.

            “Why…why didn’t you shock the heart?” the mother asked, words desperate and confused. “We’ve got to save her. You’ve got to shock the heart.”

            “Heart rhythm right now is flatlining. That’s not treatable with a shock. We’re trying to get the rhythm to change to something we can shock by warming her up,” Robby replied, voice quite and low.

            “Ok. So, we’ve got to warm up. You’ve got to get some more blankets in here or something,” the mother rambled.

            “We are giving her warm IV fluids, and you can feel these blue pads. They have warm water running through them like a hot tub,” Robby muttered.

            “Are you sure you’re doing everything?” the mother asked, quietly.

            “Yes, we are,” Robby confirmed.

            Robby’s eyes went back to Y/N, who glanced up to see him. He was just staring her, and Y/N took a deep breath and dodged his eyes.

            They continued longer trying to bring back this little girl. Y/N didn’t try to think of the situation but rather the job that needed to be done. Whitaker continued to do chest compressions, warm saline went through her veins and Y/N helped with getting oxygen into her.

            “Core temp is 88,” she spoke up. Slowly it was climbing.

            “Is that good?” the dad spoke up, looking around the room.

            “It’s up from 85 on her arrival, so we’re headed in the right direction,” Collins spoke up.

            Robby was hovering, arms crossed as he walked around the room. His eyes were on the little girl, then Collins, before jumping back to Y/N, who remained emotionless.

            “You hear that, Amber?” the mother spoke. “It’s better,” she said between breaths as she ran her hand through her daughter’s hair. “You’re getting better.”

            “I need to step out for a second. You’re in good hands,” Robby whispered, looking at the parents. “Come find me when it’s over 90,” he whispered to Collins before leaving the room.

            Eventually the core temperature got to 91. Robby was back in the room, glancing at monitors. Mateo was on the bag down helping her breathe while Y/N stood with her arms crossed.

            “Can you shock the heart now?” the dad asked.

            “91 is warm enough for her heart to respond,” Robby muttered, still looking at the monitors.

            “Hold compressions,” Collins addressed. Whitaker stopped and the machine flatlines. Y/N walked to the phone to hear the results of the labs.

            “Asystole,” Mel whispered.

            “Resuming compressions.”

            Listening to it, her face fell, nodding. She hung up, placing the phone back on the wall before turning to the crowd. She took a breath. “Potassium levels are back,” she said.

            Robby looked at her, raising a brow.

            “12.2,” she breathed, knowing what it meant. Her eyes looked over the crowd as Robby walked over, bending down next to the family.

            Y/N’s heart broke, looking over to the girl on the table. Seeing her small frame, her lifeless, small frame and sighed. Another death. Another death on this day.

            “No one has ever survived a cardiac arrest with a potassium over 11. There is absolutely no chance of recovery,” Robby said, voice low, calm and soft. He took a breath. “I am so sorry. Amber has died.”

            Y/N instantly glanced down, biting down on her bottom lip.

            “Before we stop, do you think her sister would like a chance to say goodbye?”

            “No,” the dad responded, shaking his head. “Uh, Bella shouldn’t see her like this.”

            “Ok,” Robby replied, sending a solid nod. “You can stay in here for as long as you like. We are going to stop now,” he told them.

            The mother was hysterical. Y/N couldn’t blame her. She just lost a child. Her child. A daughter who barely lived. So small, so young. Y/N lost a child today, and it might not have been the same as the mother, but it was still a child.

            Robby met Y/N’s eyes, and he saw her expression. His head nodded to the door and she nodded back, quietly excusing herself from the room.

            Y/N walked right outside the trauma ward into the ambulance bay. The sun was shining, the wind was soft, and it was just a beautiful day. A beautiful September day, but it was such a fucking shitty day. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and staring in front of her.

            “Fuck, I want a cigarette,” she muttered. “Just one fucking cigarette.”

            However, she could hear Jack’s words in her brain scolding her for pumping poison into her lungs. His words would be so simple “Dove, rather you talk to me than take your stress out through inhaling toxins.”

            If that was so fucking simple. If everything was so fucking simple.

            She had no idea how long she had been there for, but she saw Nick Bradley’s body being wheeled out on a gurney to the ambulance bay to be transported for organ donation. She missed the memory walk. However, Y/N didn’t move. She stayed put, glancing ahead.

            Dana, Collins and Robby came out to see the ambulance leave. Y/N stayed put, not saying a word, not even looking at them. Instead, just stared ahead. Her arms were crossed, then she glanced down at her shoes, seeing the stains from the job. Her cardigan was gone. Just the long-sleeved cheetah print she had under the lighter scrubs. Y/N pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. Long, thick locks that cascaded in perfect waves.

            Robby spotted her by the doors, about three metres from them. Her back against the wall, just staring. He debated whether or not to walk over. Would she be down to talk? Would she even want to talk?

            He lingered, hands on his hips, watching her, hus head straight then a slight tilt he did whenever he was thinking too hard. Collins and Dana exchanged a glance, one that said, “leave it to Robby” before heading back in through the double doors, the hush of grief following them.

            Robby waited a beat longer. Then walked over.

            He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside her, leaning back against the same wall, crossing his arms. His shoulders brushed hers, but she didn’t move. Instead, her head came, leaning over to his shoulder.

            Her eyes remained forward, lips pressed together and jaw tight. She swallowed hard before she took a deep breath.

            Robby didn’t know what to say.

            “You missed the walk,” he said after the moment, voice low.

            “I know.”

            “He was your patient.”

            She was silent for a moment, then a small, “I know,” came. Nothing else came from her, instead, she just moved her head to get deeper into the crook of his neck.

            Robby’s hand came, grasping her hand as their hands entwined. “I’m here,” he whispered.

            She nodded. “I know.” He went to open his mouth. “Don’t tell me to go home. Please don’t. That’s the last place I want to be.”

            He said nothing, stayed quiet.

            “You’re a good man, Michael,” she whispered. “A really good man. Who deserves so much. Happiness, peace, solitude and a fair life,” she mumbled. “I’m thankful for you. I’m grateful you’re in my life.” Then she breathed. “I’ll always have love for you,” she whispered, looking down. “But this job,” she muttered and took a deep breath in, “slowly degrades you. Burns brain cells. Eats your blood count. Destroys your faith.”

            “I know,” he replied. “You’ve had a day.”

            She stayed quiet for a brief second before pulling away and looking up to his six-foot frame. “No, we are having a day. Not just me.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, pretty fucking shitty. But this is what we do.”

            Y/N nodded in silence before looking back in front of her. “I should tell Jack, right?” she whispered.

            “Yeah, you should.” She nodded, reaching for her phone but he stopped her hand. “This is something to do in person, Y/N. I would like to hear it in person. Not due to selfish needs, but because I would want to hold you while you told me. Wipe your tears. Hold your hand. Caress your hair and whisper ‘it’s going to be ok’.” Y/N met his eyes, and he saw how broken they were. “I would tell you how much I love you. I would ask what you’d want next. Then I’d run you a bath, get in with you and hold you. I’d whisper sweet nothings, delivering kisses along your skin as I rub your stomach. Then we’d go to bed, and I’d hold you all night.”

            Y/N stared at him. They said nothing for moments. Just stared at one another. Their hands were still entwined together.

            Then she took a long, deep breath. “A lot of death today,” she mumbled.

            “I agree.”

            She broke her gaze from him and looked ahead. “It’s been officially like a hundred days of me not smoking. I stress smoke. Since I was eleven, and stole them from my mother. I might light one or two, or a whole packet,” she muttered. Then she took another breath. “Jack found me last time. I’d got news that my mom was ok. She was missing from her housing facility. She was missing for two weeks. Found,” she let out a chuckle, “at our old shit box home. We lived in it till I was ten before we got evicted. She was pregnant with Beckett at the time. We moved into my Nana’s. Beckett was born not soon after,” she mumbled. He looked at her, listening but then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just want a fucking cigarette, and I can hear Jack’s brooding, grumpy old man voice in the back of my head lecturing me.” She met his eyes. “Don’t lecture me, Cowboy,” she joked with a small smile. “I bet you have vices to deal with your shit.”

            He smirked, chuckling. “Hey, we work in the ER, the ways we cope can’t be judged.” Though he winked at her, and she raised a brow. “I can’t give you a cigarette as I don’t smoke and I know Jack would throttle me if he found out. But,” he hummed, digging into his pocket, “I have a mint.”

            Y/N stared at the mint he had. The peppermint, one that brought a smile to her face. “That’s from the staff room.”

            He nodded. “Yes, it is.”

            She then sent a small smile. “Jack, before we started dating, would hand me a mint from the staff room whenever I had a bad case. He would say something like, ‘the burning would distract you’. We’d sit on the rooftop. Talk about anything. Well, he was my boss, so I didn’t know what to talk about. So, we’d talk about common things, which usually was how bad the coffee in the break room was and how I had a conspiracy that the sandwiches from the cafeteria were recycled from the university and from frozen. I was awkward with him.”

            Robby glanced at her. He had one thought – if she wasn’t on night shifts for two years and on days instead, would they have had months like this…leading to a life together.

            “I didn’t know that,” he said gently.

            “Jack’s not a talker,” she responded. “Now he is. Not a yapper, but like the type to express his wants and needs bluntly.”

            Robby chuckled. “Yeah, best mates we are,” he hummed.

            Y/N nodded. “Oh, I know. You two trade tools, talk about trucks and bond over building things from scratch.”

            Robby chuckled. “I did pressure wash your rancher home this past summer,” he mumbled. “And your Bronco.”

            Y/N chuckled. “Jack has threatened me that if I continue to keep my Bronco a mess from all my trash, shit and life, I will be sleeping in the guest room.”

            Robby chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, he’s a military man. Organisation, clean, sleek,” he muttered.

            Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m right now banned from his truck because I spilt my Starbucks in it last week and plus left my shit in it. But it wasn’t shit. It was like a claw clip, a lipgloss, a tide pen, an old coffee mug and my panties,” she muttered, and Robby raised a brow.

“Panties?”

“We went on a walk, and I ended up swimming in my undergarments, so I took them off in the car while he gave me his shirt. I forgot to bring in my lake-soaked panties. Classic Jack is like ‘Dove, the truck isn’t a purse’ and ‘Your chaotic gremlin energy does not belong in the truck. Truck is sacred’,” she muttered with a chuckle while doing a grumpy Jack impression. “Now, when we have to go anywhere, he demands we drive my car when we have three other cars on the property, but he complains they are ‘collectors’. Then he goes on about the mess. Whatever…”

            Robby rolled his eyes in laughter. “You’re a chaotic girl,” he muttered. “And a chaotic gremlin.”

            “No, I’m spicy. Unique. Different. Keep you on your toes type of girl,” she responded. Then she smirked. “But, I’ll accept gremlin.”

            Robby nodded. “You know it was love at first sight with him,” he mumbled.

            Y/N heard him, heart fluttering for a moment before shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t. When we met, he was emotionally shut down. Still grieving his late wife. I was this chaotic thunderstorm who entered the ER at twenty-two, who questioned the way he charted and his brooding demeanour.” Then she chuckled. “The first year, it was just professional, but I also mainly worked with you Robby on days. I moved to nights because of the premium rates and then gradually, he started to challenge me, teach me new things. After one hard case, he came over and crashed on my couch. Then he started to crash every shift we had together and then he was sleeping in my bed. We were just friends. He never touched me or flirted with me. Then one day, I just kissed him. Somehow, I did it on the rooftop and then…magic. Six years later, four dogs, a mortgage on a rancher on an acre of land by the edge of a city, a Bronco he bought for me, paid off my debt, paying my brother’s university and endless camping trips where I complain about shitting in a hole and sleeping on the floor.” She took a breath. “Why me? I ask every day. Why me? Because I’m far from perfect. Childhood trauma. Addict Mother. Dad,” she breathed, “dad, who has a whole other family. A half-brother who’s my world. And so many stories I’m not proud of but had to do to survive.” Then she shook her head. “He doesn’t know it all. I keep so much because he’s Jack. Old-fashioned, but still progressive, the type who,” she looked over to Robby and whispered, “makes sure a teenage girl gets an abortion. Brooding, strict, blunt, but so kind, deliberate, gentle and patient. The type who makes two of everything when he makes a coffee, or a lunch, because he wants to ensure I’m taken care of. The one who takes care of everything, so I don’t have to worry. Lectures me on letting the dogs on the bed or spending 7$ on a coffee.” Then she let out a loud cackle. “The man who hates my mother but still supports her housing. Buys her groceries for her with me. Comes with me to check on her and didn’t get mad when I was hiding that I was sending her money from our account.”

            Robby stayed quiet, knowing she didn’t need a response.

            “I’m so incredibly happy,” she whispered. “I made my own happiness. Becoming a guardian to Beckett at nineteen, raising him when my mother couldn’t, supporting myself and him while I attended school, going to university, becoming a nurse…getting Winston. But he came, and it was just like, ‘yeah, I’m good now. Don’t need anything else’. But,” she breathed, “a baby.”

            Robby glanced over but her eyes were focused on a rock on the ground. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Moments. He knew she was thinking of the best way to say it. Her brain was going over every word in her brain.

            “I was a mother,” she eventually said,” I am a mother.”

            Robby’s brows furrowed.

            “I became a mother at fourteen when mom went on a bender for two weeks. Gone, came back for her shift and then fucked off forever. I had a four-year-old brother. I had no choice,” she muttered. “Fuck,” she scoffed. “How am I alive? With her as my mother. Fuck knows. But Beck is mine. He is my child. He’s my son,” she whispered. “Jack sees him as a son. He takes care of him. For me. For us. For him. But also, because he’s Jack,” she muttered as tears came.

            Then everything hit. Memories she shut out from her childhood. Moments she didn’t know ever existed. Situations she hid from herself. Tears began to come down her cheeks.

            “Jack can know about this,” she eventually muttered. “But he can’t know all of me. Of everything I’ve done to be here today to be with him because he wouldn’t understand it.”

            Robby didn’t interrupt. He let her sit in that silence, let the tears fall. One thing Y/N taught him was active listening and how beneficial it was. But it was so rare to see Y/N like this, how she talked like this. Her truth that isn’t jokes, humour, and smirks. Her world was beautiful now, he knew that. But the way she spoke broke him internally. But this wasn’t a moment for laughter, but rather her talking about a grief that suited her.

            She sniffled hard and swiped her cheeks with the sleeve under her scrub top. “He wouldn’t understand it,” she whispered again, quieter this time. “He’s ex-military…we are survivors in different ways, but I don’t understand his trauma, and he wouldn’t understand mine. But he’s good. He’s cleaner in ways I never was. Sure, he may have combat fought and saw shit. But, never had to,” she shook her head, “never mind. He’s a good man and I needed him, and I thank the universe everyday for us.”

            Robby nodded.

            “But I want a baby,” she whispered. “I realized it in the last twenty-four hours, and I can’t have a baby, Robby. But it doesn’t make sense for us to have a baby. He’s forty-nine. We are workaholics. I still love a good party. I smoke if Jack doesn’t catch me, drink like an Irishman at a pub and dance like it’s 1999,” she said as she stared ahead. “Beckett was my baby. He was my baby, and I became a mother at fourteen,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I think I just realised that.” She scoffed. “I have to be his mother because ours is a piece of fucking shit.”

            Robby swallowed thickly, chest tight, watching her unravel, not in chaos, but in clarity. A trust she hadn’t spoken aloud, maybe not even to herself.

            He pulled her closer to his side, holding her. “Yeah,” he whispered. A piece of him would want to say I would give you everything, but he knew Jack already did. “Beckett is yours. Might be a adult now–“

            “Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He went to Jack two weeks ago for advice on oral sex.”

            Robby snickered, rolling his eyes. “You’re a good mom to him, Ace. You’ve done a good damn job.”

            Y/N looked at him, and he looked at her. “You’re a good man, Michael. In another life, I’d give you what you wanted,” she whispered, and he nodded.

            “In another life, Ace.”

            Then she scoffs. “God, I’m turning into an intern or a med student, crying in the ambulance bay,” she muttered before letting out a loud, real laugh.

            Robby smirked. “Welcome to the club. Took you long enough. They meet daily. Dana brings them muffins.”

            She glared at him. “I’m a nurse, not a goddamn med student. Crying is for the weak,” she barked but then smirked.

            “So judgmental, the rookies need to feel, Ace.”

            Their eyes were still looking at one another. “Do you think Jack would be mad if I didn’t tell him right away? Tell him when I’m ok?”

            Robby shook his head. “I would be ok with that,” he whispered but then sighed. “But Jack, he’d wouldn’t be mad, he’d be upset that you went through this alone.”

            She nodded. “He would say his classic line. I literally have a quote diary for him,” she muttered with a smile. “He would say,” she began and looked at Robby, clearing her throat for her best Jack impression, “it’s in the diary, ‘Dove…I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.’ Then he would be like, ‘Not in you, but in me. That I wasn’t there, but also that you went through this alone,’ isn’t that a Jack saying.” She smirked, proud of herself. Robby stared at her for a moment before nodding and chuckling.

            “You’re right on point, Ace.”

            “God, I know. I’ve been practising,” she hummed, smirking and sending him a wink and nudging his shoulder. “Anyway,” she whispered moments later. “You’re the Chief, fuck off and save lives.”

            He looked at her again and nodded. “You right?” he asked, nudging her.

            She looked at him for a moment, finding her words then broke in a smile. “I need a bloody case.”

            “Don’t jinx it.”

            “I need them alive. But like a good adrenaline rush. Earlier, when you let me do that intubation,” she hummed, nudging him again, “convincing me to join the daylight?”

            “You were moved to day shifts ten days ago,” he stated nonchalantly.

            “So, I can always change. You are on salary, me…well, hourly.” Then she smirked. “I love you, Cowboy, but like, you need to convince me to stay on the day. Jack lets me do way more on our shift.”

            He raised a brow, “It’s day. I can’t let you play being a doctor,” he stated. “Hate to break it to you, Ace, but you have a BSN, not an MD.”

            “Well, fuck you too, Robby.”             They stayed silent for moment. Then she smiled. “Hey, Cowboy?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Thanks for the mint,” she said with a smile, holding up the wrapper like a prize. “It helped. But not like a cigarette though.”

            He chuckled. “Well, if you stay on days, I’ll buy you a pack and store it in my locker for when you need them. But you can only smoke between 8am-6pm before Jack comes.”

            She smirks. “Marlboro lights, Cowboy. Take notes,” she hummed, winking.

            He nodded as she dropped her hold. “Locked in mind, Ace,” he hummed, smirking.          She nodded. “Go, save lives. I’ll be there in two.”

            He nodded, kissing the side of her temple before squeezing her arm and walking away. For a second, he paused, turning on his toes to look at her. “I may be good friends with Jack, but talk to me, ok? We are friends.”

            She smirked. “More than friends. Great friends, Cowboy. I’ll call you if I need you,” she muttered then lowered her voice, “better fucking do it to me if you need me.”

            He stared at her, mouth dropping a second before nodding. “Affirmative.”

            She smirked, watching him walk away. “That’s my saying!” she called out.

taglist:

@bubbleraccoon00

@beebeechaos

@travelingmypassion

@kaisanpoint

@sweetwanderlust05

@kmc1989

@hiireadstuff

@dizzybee03

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@kenzimae67

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-

Hope you enjoyed. xoxo

Ava <3

[iheartchv]

🍒 "Please" 🍒

🍒You've begged him for it... he's gonna let you have it [f/o x f!reader; everyone is a consenting adult ok?]

���cw: 18+, mentions of female parts, recieving oral

🍒a/n: short HC style, ovulation took over >////< ; this isn't for any particular fandom, just whoever you want it to be with. hope you enjoy~💋

"Please, baby?~" 🥺

You've been begging him to have his way with you, wanting to fuck you so deep and so hard

You rubbed against him, softly mewling at him

Like a cat in heat

Well, you were...

... In heat, I mean

Ovulation makes you feel so horny, so needy for him

And he knows it

He knows that you are

He can smell your arousal

And can't help but to get hard as he imagines your pussy, lips so puffy and drippping wet...

He wants to go raw and feral

But he wanted to take his sweet time with you

With a wicked smirk he takes you to the bedroom

He's taking his time with you

Teasing you

Playing and massaging your breasts as his hot tongue twirls and licks your nipples

A shiver of desire runs through you

Your body feels like its being set on fire

You can't help but to moan sweetly

Every small gasp and soft whimper

Every little sound you made was music to his ears

He slides down to between your legs when your hips start wiggling and grinding into him

When he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties you eagerly lift your hips, helping him

He gives you that teasing smirk that makes your lower belly flutter

He lowers his mouth to your slick sex

...he's hovering...

You can feel his breath fanning over you, making you shiver once again

"B-babe..."

You whine when he hasn't done anything but kept you anticipating for a second too long

"What's the magic word?" he teases again

He loves playing this game of cat and mouse with you

You're so turned on you couldn't think of anything else

"You've been saying it all day non stop... say it, tell me how much you want it..."

Oh the seductive tone of his voice made your belly burn hotly and rush to your very core~

Between tiny moans, you pleaded with him

"Please... please baby, I want it...~"

As soon as his tongue lightly flicks your sensitive clit your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a soft gasp followed by more moans

He spreads your legs and holds them open while he's licking and kissing every inch of your pussy...

... Leaving you a trembling mess

You almost lost it when his mouth covered your mound

He was licking and sucking your sensitive little nub again

Your hands held onto the top of his head as he continued to pleasure you

"Oh~ oohhh god~" you groaned loudly

His tongue slid inside you, and he loved tasting your hot wet velvet heat

Your brain felt foggy

You were feeling high from all the ecstasy that flooded through your whole body

The knot in your belly tightened and tightened until it snapped

You came hard, your love juices soaking his mouth and tongue with your essence

.....

"M-more, I want more, please~" you panted and begged

He gave you all you wanted and more

He made you cum... how many times was it again?

If you like my work, support me on Ko-Fi ☕ It'll help me keep creating content ^v^

[garciasgirl]

charms and trinkets | s.reid x reader

genre: I’ll let you guess (fluff)

content warnings: none!!

content: non bau!reader, reader works at a bookstore, reader and spencer are already in a relationship, awkward!reader, they are all cuties, penelope and reader have mutual obsessions, female reader (im sorry i was gonna try and make it gn i forgot :((()

a/n: this is for my lovely anon who requested it !! i hope you enjoy it i tried to make it as close to your request. yes i made reader and penelope obsessed with calico critters because i am.

Request: here!!

wc: 1.4k

you and spender met at the bookstore you work at, ten months ago. he had nervously rambled off a genius like fun fact about the author of the book you were checking out for him. and you had laughed, that’s what caught his attention. that, and, well obviously how radiant you were. the maybe five minutes he spent checking out at the bookstore were spent with his eyes trained on you, completely captivated.

soon after, spencer became a regular at the bookstore, for the selection of books or for you? he wasn’t sure, but regardless, he kept coming back. after those couple visits, checking out his books again, you wrote your number on the bottom of the receipt, handing it to him. in front of you, he was blushing and stuttering. but the spencer that called you that night? was confident, and you loved it.

now, eight months from then, you and spencer were in an extremely happy relationship. every case he came home from, especially the particularly hard ones, he would rush over to your apartment. grasping you into his arms and holding you on the couch for hours. you were all he ever thought about, and spencer, being some one who talked a lot, showed that. the team had heard countless rambles about how amazing you were. Yet none of them had ever met you. the team usually just listened, not pushing spencer on when they were going to meet this mysterious girlfriend. well, everyone except penelope.

every meet up between spencer and penelope in penelope’s lair, every call between them, penelope always asked when she was meeting you. why? because truthfully, she had never seen spencer so happy, and she wanted to thank you for making her best friend more positive than she has ever seen him.

and that’s what led to this conversation that you and spencer were having right now. you two were at spencer’s apartment, sitting on his couch. “i know your hesitant about meeting the team..” he started, his hand holding yours, his thumb gently rubbing the top of your hand. you shook your head, looking at him, “it’s not that I don’t want to meet them spence, but, what if they don’t like me?” he smiles at you softly, “love, they will, I promise.” his gentle eyes caressing over your face.

how could you say no to him? when he looked at you with such love and tenderness. But still, the anxiety that flowed through you hadn’t subsided, and spencer, being ever observant, noticed. he sighed softly, squeezing your hand. “how about this? you just meet penelope for now, maybe not being surrounded by my entire team will help.” you took his words into consideration, you had heard a lot about penelope. and from the way spencer described her, you liked her already. “okay..yeah.” you said, “yeah?” spencer responded, a small grin playing on his lips.

spencer had made a call that night to penelope, arranging a meet between you three tomorrow, on his and penelope’s off day. penelope was ecstatic, you were anxious.

that night, spencer reassured you with comforting words. reminding you that if his awkward self loved penelope, you would to. that made you laugh, and honestly a little more comfortable.

the next day, a knock sounded on spencer’s apartment door. you had stressed cleaned his already clean apartment all morning. spencer came out, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head, before going to the door. you took a couple deep breaths, before following.

when spencer opened the door, you were greeted with a beautiful woman, adorned in a mixture of colors and patterns. penelope had a large smile on her face, that somehow widened when she saw you. she rushed in the apartment, “oh my gosh!! well, aren’t you pretty? how are you sweetheart, im penelope!!” her sweet voice rang in your ears, as she engulfed you in a big and sudden hug. you heard spencer chuckle softly in the distance, but you hugged her back.

penelope’s look and the small glimpse of her personality put you at ease almost instantly. the three of you made you way to spencer’s couch, all sitting down. spencer had his hand resting loosely on top of yours, and penelope sitting across from you two. “ive heard so much about you..!!” you started, looking at her. she smiled, shaking her hand dismissively, “darling I guarantee, I’ve heard more about you!! spence can’t stop talking about you.”

you blushed at her words, flustered with the idea that spencer talks about you to his coworkers. before you could even continue your flustered thoughts, a gasp sounded in the room, penelope gently grabbing the hand spencer wasn’t holding looking at your charm bracelet. “is that charm a calico critter?” she squeaked excitedly. you nodded quickly, “yes do you like them too!!” in which penelope gushed about how much she loved them. you had become immediately less shy when the common interest was of topic.

spencer was watching you lovingly as you talked quickly about the little trinkets the two of you loved so much. you and him were alike, always going on rants about the stuff that interested you. except he went on rants about scientific stuff that most people didn’t care much about, but of course, you cared.

watching his favorite person and closest coworker be so close and enjoy each others company, warmed his heart. the way your face lit up at anything that excited you, your voice growing higher and excitement shining through.

you had ran into spencer’s room where you kept a little collection of your favorite trinkets. spencer loved them, because they reminded him of you. you showed them to penelope, calico critters, sonny angels, and little cute things that the two girls adored. the three of you sat for a while, spencer occasionally butting in.

you picked out three calico critters that remind you of each person, a little deer one for penelope, a latte cat one for yourself, a silly giraffe one for spencer that made you and penelope burst out with laughter.

after a while, penelope had to leave, but not before exchanging numbers with you. when she left, you still had a giant smile on your face, one that spencer was so glad to see. you crashed into his arms, wrapping your own around him, “I like her a lot..” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly, you felt it rumble in his chest. “I knew you would, wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased lightly, in return you shook you head.

“im really happy you like her, though. and im glad i can talk about you even more now that penelope has met you.” you pulled back, looking at him, “do you actually talk about me that much?” you asked.

spencer grinned, ruffling your hair playfully, “absolutely.” he confirmed. you whined jokingly in response. in which he grabbed your hand pulling you back into his living room. “cmon, we gotta clean up all these. they’re all over my couch..” he sighed dramatically. you hit him gently in the arm, “you’re lucky, look how cute!!!” you said, picking up a koala family of calico critters.

“yeah, cute..” he said, shamelessly staring directly at you instead of the trinkets. you rolled your eyes, not seeing him come closer to you, his hands resting gently on your hips. your own arms wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer. your lips catching in a gentle and loving kiss.

spencer pulls back, looking at you with a mock serious expression. “alright, now we really have to clean up, it looks like a toddler spread all of their toys around my apartment.” you made a considering face, the idea of a mini spencer running around a thought you enjoyed. spencer noticed, raising his eyebrows, “absolutely not.”

the rest of the night was spent picking up all the trinkets you and penelope had dropped, spencer falling asleep on the couch halfway through the cleaning session. you giggled quietly as you took a picture of him, curled up in a bright pink fluffy blanket, his curly hair a mess over his face, and sent it to penelope.

spencer may have made a mistake introducing you to penelope. he had unknowingly and unintentionally created a duo bound to causing immense amounts of trouble.

[domesticatedstew]

OK SO

I might have written, some more mud/diligence but this time... it's smut. this is also my first time posting any smut I've actually written so it's not gonna be great 😭 (also I'll tag any tw needed!)

MINORS DNI

It had been a long and exhausting day for everyone in the resturant, and the last thing Mud wanted to do was sleep on the meat hook.

But until they got enough scarab to buy everyone a bed, he was stuck with the freezer. Maybe Mud would get lucky and the meat hook would kill him as he slid onto it so he'd be able to fall asleep without practically shuttering his skin off (what's left of his skin anyway.)

He pierced his spine onto the frigid metal in hopes his idea would work, but instead it just shot waves of pain through his entire skeletal structure. Mud groaned as he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his coat tighter around his shivering body. Fate was merciful to him tonight, as sleep quickly enveloped the rotling and he soon couldn't feel the throbbing pain coursing in his bones.

Opening his eyes, Mud could see dark orange skies through a beautiful stained glass window. It illuminated a circle around where he sat but everything else was shrouded in darkness; anything could've been hiding in that darkness. It made Mud feel more vulnerable than he cared for.

Mud tried to stand but immediately felt the tug of rope against his wrists and ankles. Something was horribly wrong, he'd never ever get into this situation (not even willingly.)

His breath quickened and a knot formed in his stomach. He tugged on the rope with all his might but they didn't budge. It was like all his strength was sapped out of him. Panic was setting in and Mud knew he needed to get the hell out of here, where ever here was.

"Well well well, if it isn't my favorite disgusting coward," A sultry voice spoke from behind him, causing Mud to snap his head around to see who said it, he nearly snapped his head off his neck in the process. That would've been infinitely better than being tied up with some mystery person. A hand grasped his shoulder, digging rough nails into his flesh and pulling the chair to their direction.

Diligence. The Virtue finallt caught up to Mud after thousands of years of hiding.

"You've certainly gotten more repulsive over the last few thousand years! I miss every second I had to not stare at your face, but staring at this," Diligence dug his metallic nails into Mud's chin, forcing him to stare into the Virtue's brain. "As I rip you to shreds will make everything worth it."

Being this close to the monochromatic robot sent chills down Mud's back, but for some reason ignited a heat in his lower stomach he hadn't felt in eons. It made him squirm in his seat.

Diligence let go of Mud's slimey face, wiping the excess goo off onto his trench coat. If Diligence had eyes, Mud would've been able to see the pure disgust they felt within them. "Hmmm, now what do you think would make for a good start to your endless torment, run away?" The Virtue placed their boot directly in between Mud's open legs, the heel dangerously close to his groin. He had to bite back a groan as Diligence applied more and more pressure, the knife like heel digging a hole into the wooden chair.

But nothing could get passed the Virtue, not even the moans Mud tried with all his might to hide. "Do you enjoy this? You really are no different than every other pathetic creature under my rein, but you intrigued me." There was a hint of laughter in the way they spoke, like they were planning some big joke at Mud's expense. "I don't like this you rotten-" "The only rotten thing here is YOU." Diligence shoved the chair to the floor, causing Mud to slam the back of his head into the stone floor.

The rotling couldn't hold back a groan that time, but at least it was out of pain and not pleasure this time. He was embarrassed with himself for even liking being around the very thing he escaped from.

"You need to be taught a lesson, even if you enjoy it for some sick, deprived, reason." The robot circled around the now laying down Mud. They looked even more intimidating than usual, but their long slender legs glistened under the orange light. He was never more glad to not have a 'package' than he was now. There was always something so appealing with how Diligence was designed, whoever made their body clearly had favorites.

A large heeled boot slammed beside his head, missing Mud's sludgey head by a few mere inches; the stone floor cracked under the sheer force of their legs. Mud gulped and avoided looking directly up at Diligence who now stood over him.

"You are the most revolting creature I've ever had the misfortune of commanding." Diligence, now crouched over top of the still tied up (and also now very horny) Mud.

It was unbearable, the shame and the pleasure mixing in a horrible concoction of emotions in his stomach. He wanted to stare at the beauty in front of him but logic told him that "beauty" was nothing more than a beast who wanted to torture him. "Whatever you want, I'm not telling you." He spat at the glass face of the Virtue, a large green blob of gunk slid off and landed back on Mud's coat; leaving a nasty translucent trail down the robot's face.

Diligence simply chuckled at his pathetic attempt at standing his ground, "I don't want information, I just want to ruin you, you stupid rotling."

They wrapped their long metallic fingers around Mud's neck and lifted him up, chair and all, all while nearly breaking his wind pipe. Mud was never more thankful to be sitting upright again, but Diligence's grasp on his neck didn't waver. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to the tall rotling and his thoughts became more and more delirious, and more and more sexual. He started hoping that anything would help with the growing need in his crotch, even the horrible being who brought him here in the first place.

The Virtue seemed to read his mind. Both hands clasped Mud's thighs, dangerously close to where Mud actually wanted them but not close enough. He wanted to let out a frustrated moan, but was cut off as Diligence leaned in right beside his ear. "You want me to ruin you, correct?"

Instinct from his days as a soldier immediately kicked in, but the arousal didn't dampen for a single second. "Yes sir," He croaked out, shimmying to try and get Diligence's iron grip on his thighs to go closer to where he actually wanted them.

One hand dug it's nails into the flesh of Mud's thigh, bright purple blood pooled around their white fingers. The pain clouded his vision, Mud didn't even notice that Diligence let go of his other thigh and had finally reached towards his crotch.

"G-Gah!! You sick fuck, I'd shoot you down i-if fuck if I wasn't tied to this chair," Mud struggled to form a coherent sentence, pain and pleasure combining together into a cloudy haze in his brain. "You stop talking, or else I end this now and just kill you like a horrible, gross, insect," Diligence pressed harder into Mud's groin, causing the rotling to jolt in his seat.

Diligence rubbed the growing heat in Mud's pants, feeling a sopping wet mess forming under their fingers. Mud threw his head back, completely disregarding any shame he once had as the knot in his stomach threatened to break him. Sharp and pristine white claws sliced open his thigh, but it didn't ruin the moment, it only amplified every amazing feeling running through his body.

More and more moans filled the room like the bright orange light filled the skies. Mud was so close to cumming. He didn't give a shit that the creature making him cum was his ex commander, or that his ex commander was probably gonna kill him the second after he cums. All he cares about was finallt being able to release after so many years of no action.

"Mud." Another voice joined in, much fainter and distant. He ignored it, so so so close to cumming, he didn't want anything ruining this.

"Mud!" There it was again, louder now and more annoying.

"MUD!! WAKE UP YOU LAZY BUM, ITS AN HOUR PASSED OPENING!!!"

Suddenly Mud was ripped from his confusingly sexy dream as he was tossed to the ground. All the pain from his sleeping hook and the cold from the freezer brutally made their way back into the forefront of his brain.

"Get up and go do your job or SO HELP ME." Ken stomped his way out of the freezer and back into the dining room, completely oblivious to Mud's deep red face and ruined dream.

"God fucking damn it."

[marymary-diva17]

His love and hope

The former gladiator had left the arena as he spoke for change to come to his home planet. During his time as a fighter, he gained some friends and allies. He had left one battlefield for another to help improve his home for everyone. He had also found love and someone who would stand by his side despite his past. 

Y/n " ......" you sit in your chair in your chambers, looking upon the cities of Cybertron. It has been many megacycles since you married your best friend, Megatron. 

Megatron: " Good evening, my lovely mate." You soon stood up from your seat and made your way towards Megatron. 

Y/n " Welcome back, my lovely mate. How was the meeting with the council? Did you and Optimus get your bills past?"

Megatron: " It went well, my love. Optimus and I were able to speak with them, but they might need more time to think about the bills."

Y/n " It good to hear and know they need time to think about it, versus flat out rejecting the bills right away, so that means some of them shall be passed." You had passed Megatron a drink of engeron, and he soon drank it and gave you a soft smile. 

Megatron: " So tell me, my spark, how was your day? I wish to know how my wife's day has been."

Y/N " It was good that I had some work with Starscream and Jet Fire. We had found some old data files, so we were archiving through them."

Megatron: " That seems very interesting, my love. The Titans might be able to help us in our cause."

Y/n " I hope so, my love, but we shouldn't use them for selfish reasons; they are why we have these planets we love so much."As you lay back on the sofa, Megatron soon kissed your forehead, making you laugh. 

Megatron: " Well, let's see what's on for entertainment this evening or if there's any news from the other planets as well."

Y/N: " Hey, maybe we can go on a vacation when we are done with all our work and enjoy each other's company, or maybe go with friends."

Megatron: " That sounds like a good idea. Maybe we can ask Optimus and Elite, as they are one of our couple friends."

Y/n: " That sounds good. Maybe we can ask Starscream, Jetfire, and some of our other friends."

Megatron: " If you wish for them to come, I will be happy, but I will also enjoy spending time with you." 

Megatron: " See how we are having a conversation right now? I was hoping we could have a talk that might be equally important."

Y/n " So what shall we be talking about, my love."

Megatron: "Well, I know we have been having small conversations about having our own family, and I was wondering if you still wish to have sparklings."

Y/n " Yes, I would still love to have kids and our own family, but are we in the right time to have sparklings with all that going on here?"

Megatron: " We can still be doing our work, and we can make sure that everything is good for the lives here and the future generations to come."

Megatron: " Many megacycles ago, I never thought I would have a spark mate, but look now, I have you and maybe soon enough a family as well if Primus blesses us." 

Y/n: " You are right, my love, but if we ever do have a little one, I hope to have one that looks like you."

Megatron: " I hope they take more after their mother and a bit of me as well. We will have such a beautiful family."

Y/n " Yes, we will."

Megatron: " My love, you are my hope and love."

Y/n "Thank you, and you are my hero and warrior." The couple just lay on the sofa, enjoying the shows on the screen and having a good time together. That family you all wish for will come with children like their father and mother.

[pumpkinhcad]

𝗗𝗔𝗦𝗛 : 𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾 -- generate ten headcanons for your muse and then either accept   ✔   or   reject   ✖   them !

✔ Pump sucks at saying tongue twisters. He still tries to say them, and gets frustrated when he cannot. They're like little tongue traps and he falls for them every single time.

✖ Pump wears Hello Kitty socks. Probably his older sister would, but chances are Pump would be the kind of kid to bastardize a Hello Kitty plushie by "making it spooky-looking" instead. Hello Kitty is girly stuff, ew.

✖ Pump stole a lollipop at the checkout when he was 5 and he still feels guilty about it. He stole the lollipop, yes. He did not feel bad, however. It was a successful heist, and nobody has ever found out! Actually, his mom likely noticed and just paid for it without letting him see it.

✔ Pump is not allowed to drink energy drinks. He should not?? First of all, he is likely too young for energy drinks. Second of all, nobody wants to release such a horror into the world. That'd be, like, a sugar rush on steroids.

✖ Pump hacks their stats in every video game he plays. If he knew how to do this, he would likely not need his sister's help to pass the difficult levels of the games he plays. Not like he would need to, again, because his sister is good at all videogames it seems.

✖ Pump is awful with technology and doesn't know how to use a smart phone. Of course he knows how to use a smartphone. How to call, how to text on it, how to send stuff... He just doesn't use his own much. Half the time he forgets it at home even. That is how little he cares about these things. He will still ask people if they got games in their phones, though. His parents probably raised him not to depend on phones as much, and only to use them when needed.

✔ Pump desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one. He probably should have gotten one after Moloch's death, when his sister realized he was uncharacteristically upset, but the octopus plushie from his parents pretty much sufficed.

✖ Pump has an incredible spice tolerance. He does not even like the taste of most spicy things!! He will stick his tongue out if you show him anything spicy. He likely will do the same if he smells it even.

✔ Pump likes board games, but no one else wants to play with him. He cheats lol. And he is very good at it. Skid will still play board games with him, but a lot of the time they will end up throwing the game items at each other.

✔ It would not take much for Pump to turn evil. While I do not believe he would be straight out evil alignment-wise, he is definitely chaotic. He likely turned even more chaotic after the events of SM6 solely to spite that priest and his teachings. And I cannot blame him. He is also easily-influenceable and would likely do some bad guy's bidding.

tagged by: Nobody! I came across this one and really liked the idea. tagging: This is fun, so you should do it!

[okwonyo]

4EVER # ♩ 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀.

　　　　　🍶　　sweet gestures

fem ! rea ✶ fluff domestic ꒰𓏼 ◞ ◟ 𓏼 ྀི kissing skinship

REBLOG FOR A KISS !

heeseung keeps a picture of you in his wallet. he doesn’t tell you about it— he keeps it to himself. it’s his little secret, which he cherishes quite deadly. he likes to tell himself, as he admires your beauty in motion, “she doesn’t know that i love her so much that i have a picture of her on me all the time.” you are taken aback when you find out, randomly when you snoop in his wallet to find his credit card.

jay takes you on unplanned dates. it happens more often than not. it always surprises you, however. “princess,” he starts through the phone. “i’ll be there in thirty minutes, i’m taking you out.” it always makes your heart buzz with stress due to the fact that you love to get dolled up, but it’s nothing next to the enthusiasm it makes you feel. he always takes you the the cutest, most prettiest place. he makes sure that every second is worth your smile.

jake writes you cute notes and hide them in random places in the apartment. he does this whenever he is on tour or when he knows it’s going to be a long day away from you. a smile always creeps on your face when you find the sweet piece of paper in your makeup bag in the morning. “you always are so beautiful, my love,” he wrote in a soft and quick handwriting. how can you not be clingy when he comes back to your side?

sunghoon gives you gifts, without warning. his favorite way to do it is coming back home in a hurry, cupping your face before you can greet him properly or notice the little bag in his hands. he makes you both walk to the living room then corners you between the couch and himself. he waits until you are both out of breath to give what he bought to you, nonchalantly putting it on your thighs before diving back in to continue the makeout session. you have to push him off of you to discover what it is.

sunoo buys you flowers every other day. he comes to pick you up from work a lot, and always has a bouquet of flowers in his hands, with a sweet card attached to it. this habit his a remaining memory of the early days of your relationship— when he used to bring you flowers at each date. now, he sends them for no particular reason. not to celebrate anything if it’s not his love for you; he sends them to your work, comes back home with arms full of it.

jungwon doesn’t know how to cook, but he learns how to cook your favorite dish to make you happy. he goes out of his way to ask your family and friends about it. he spends days trying to find the perfect ingredients, the ones who will make your heart burn with joy. it takes a lot of mess in the kitchen and hours of almost breaking down for you to come back home with dinner set on the table; “i don’t know if it has good as you usually like it, but i tried.”

riki updates you about his day through long voice messages. often, his days start way more early than yours. when you get out of slumber, he is already far gone and in the middle of work. there is a fit of giggles that erupts out of your mouth as soon as you hear your boyfriend’s deep voice through the phone, telling you what he is eating for breakfast before practice. his voice messages are always detailed and always comes in packs.

taglist. ( open )

i hope everyone is doing alright <3 and that everyone enjoyed ^^

[des2dream]

IndieAnimationDay Highlights✨

Say 'Yay'! It's IndieAnimationDay! A day to celebrate all those independent animators, storyboard artists, cleanup animators, writers etc. out there because we all know how difficult it is to work on animation. We also know how difficult it is to be given dreadful deadlines, people not crediting your work, and dealing with the presence of A.I. Today is the day to celebrate those who give it their all to make something all their own without anyone holding them back! I have three special projects I'd like to highlight for this occasion.

1. Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl!✨🌃🧀

In our first installment, we have an upcoming animatic project, Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl created by @kianamaiart. Our main character, Aika is an optimistic & excitable teenage girl eager to try new things....as long as one of those new things doesn't involve being a magical girl. Well, too bad for her because she is now "The Chosen One" and has to stop Lady DeVoid from plaguing the world in darkness with the help of her star being aid, Hoshi and her new manga-loving friend, Zira. I love this concept so much! As someone who enjoys watching Sailor Moon (the catalyst for Magical Girls), it's such a fun idea to see how much these familiar magical girl tropes will get shut down by either Aika or any other characters. I also really love the character designs, the art style, and the voice cast. We have the voice actresses for Mirko in My Hero Academia and Madoka Magica (one of the other popular Magical Girls)! You should also check out the rest of the cast. I'm so excited!

2. Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy👽🌌🌟

For our next installment, we have an upcoming animated pilot, Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy created by @starteas. The story has a group of alien friends traveling the galaxy in order to help a lost star named, Lumi find their way back home. As soon as I saw this, it gave me Wander Over Yonder vibes which is cute because it's actually one of the inspirations for this pilot. The same thing goes for Steven Universe! Two animated shows that I love so much! Starteas had been working on this pilot for a long time and you can tell if you've seen their art over the years with how much the character designs change. I feel like I'll really enjoy this cast of wacky characters and I'm more hooked on the supposed villain, Void who has one of the best designs for a bad guy. This pilot looks so cute! I have a feeling I'm really going to enjoy it!

3. Knights of Guinevere💙👑🗡

Here is our last installment! Created by @danaterrace (creator of The Owl House), John Bailey (writer in The Owl House & Future Worm), & Zach Marcus (writer, storyboard artist, & designer/The Owl House & Star Vs. The Forces of Evil) comes the next future animated pilot, Knights of Guinevere. The project is also partnered with Glitch Productions (making this their first 2D animation). We don't have much context on this pilot, but it does involve a space princess in a theme park called, Park Planet. As for the premise, my guess is it may involve the princess not being what she seems, a woman stuck in a fantasy simulation, or maybe the princess is a broken-down robot continuously stuck as a mascot. We won't know until later, but I am excited for what's to come since it plans to be released sometime later this year. I've been a fan of Glitch's previous successful animated shows like Digital Circus & Meta Runner, so I hope this will turn out well in the end.

Happy IndieAnimation Day, everyone! You have the ability to make your dreams come true and I find animation to be one of the best forms of creation and storytelling. Even if you're not an animator, you're still capable of creating what you want. Art is everywhere and it is beautiful!

[jaeyunnz]

"Work Break Seduction."

ni-ki + f¡reader — ♡ 18+

WARNINGS — dom!ni-ki, sub¡reader, dirty talk, making out, cussing, rough sex, riki eats out reader, unprotected sex (stay safe dont do it.) pet names.

both characters are of age. (20+) not proofread, sorry if theres any errors. this is quite long but worth the read i promise!

Reader recently went into a new college and grew a school crush on Riki. Though he plays hard to get, your able to break his nonchalant demeanour.

Note : Riki was mostly requested, so enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Your parents recently moved to a different town, which meant transferring to a new college. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, though you didn’t really know anyone there—but that was fine. At least your childhood friend, Jess, was with you.

A few weeks passed, and you found yourself constantly drawn to a boy—Riki. Girls flocked to him, yet he always brushed them off or rejected their advances. No one seemed to know much about him. He was distant, only ever seen around small groups. But that only made him more intriguing. The mystery surrounding him pulled you in, making you want to learn more about him.

The problem? He avoided everyone—including you. The only times you ever spoke were during school projects, and even then, the conversations were brief or short talk.

This morning, once again, you found yourself paired with Riki. It didn’t bother you as much, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “Alright, your partners have been chosen. Get to work, project’s due in two days,” the teacher announced. You scanned the room for Riki, and then your eyes landed on him. He was leaning back in his chair, his posture casual and almost lazy. You knew you had to make the first move and approach him, or he’d likely ignore you the entire time.

You hated that you always had to be the one to approach him—it made you feel almost desperate. Yet, here you were, getting up and walking toward him. He watched as you pulled out your chair and sat down beside him. “Hi,” you said, glancing at him for a brief moment. He responded with a small nod, his usual way of acknowledging you.

You settle into the seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness that always seemed to hang between you two. The silence stretched for a moment, neither of you making any effort to start the project. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at his phone, clearly disinterested. Then, you let out a soft sigh, wishing he’d at least pretend to care. Finally deciding to break the silence. “So, uh… how do you want to split this up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs without looking up. “You can do whatever,” he mutters. You bite back a small frustration. Damn, you knew he wasn’t one for much conversation, but it always felt like pulling teeth to get him to participate. Yet, there was something about his indifference that kept you intrigued, even if it was maddening. “I guess I’ll start with the research,” you say, hoping for a bit more input. He doesn’t respond, but you take that as your cue to begin.

The next hour passes in relative silence, except for the occasional rustling of papers and the tapping of his phone. You focus on your work, trying not to pay attention to how he barely acknowledges your presence. Though you’re starting to get irritated by how you’re doing all the work while he’s just sitting there—eyes glued to his phone, doing nothing at all, you can’t bring yourself to get truly mad. Not when he looks this… handsome.

Should you try to start another conversation, hoping he might actually respond? You really wanted to get to know him better, maybe even get him to show a little interest in you, too. Fuck it, might as well, you really like him. "Prom is coming soon, you going out with anyone?" Thats the first thing that came to mind, it was a bit personal, but your curious. Maybe you can shoot your shot?

He finally lifts his head up from his phone, placing it on the desk and locks eyecontact with you. "Nah. Not interested in that typa stuff." For the first time, he actually seemed engaged, and it left you a little thrown off balance. "Why not?" You say, he gives you a shrug. "Why are you asking anyway?" He raises an eyebrow, your slightly taken by surprise when he asks, trying to make yourself sound less interested. "I'm just trying to conversate with you, I mean your quiet as fuck."

He lets out a deep, small chuckle that sounds rich, causing you to snap your eyes at him. Shit, he's really talking to you? "Yeah, well you could've asked me anything," he taps the desk with his fingertips, "But that was apparently the first thing that came to mind?" He rests his arm over the head of the chair, scanning your body for a moment which causes a small faint redness appear on your cheeks. "A bit bold of you, I'll give you credit for that."

You slightly roll your eyes, "How was that bold? I simply asked if you had a prom date or not." He finally sits up straight in his seat, running his hand through his short black hair which catches your attention. "Really?" He chuckles a bit, looking around the classroom.

You raise your eyebrow in slight confusion before he meets your gaze again, "C'mon now. You don't think i've noticed you staring at me?" Your eyes widen, he leans in closer and suddenly your heart starts to pound unbelievably fast. "Every single time we have a class together, I see you." his cold fingertips trails up your thigh, "Your into me? Aren't you? I mean thats why you asked me such a question." Your body freezes, shivers running down your spine.

How the fuck did he know?

"Thats not..." unable to finish your sentence with his hand making contact with your thigh. "Not true?" He says, his hands creeping down to pull your chair closer to him, the both of your knees brushing against eachother. His eyes dart down to your lips, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. Before you can say anything, the bell rings, interrupting the intense moment.

"We can uhm... finish this project later?" He leans back against his chair, acting totally careless about what just happened between you two. "Meet me at lunch." Is all he says before leaving the room. You know your face is beet red, but you dont even wanna see how you look right now. So then you start putting away the paper work into your bag, packing your stuff as he leaves the room, not looking back at you once. For a moment you just stand in the now empty class with a blank mind, trying to process everything that happened.

At lunch, you find yourself sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just as he asked. Your heart races a little, unsure of what to expect. You glance around, half-expecting him to bail, but then you spot him walking toward you, looking as casual as ever.

"Hey," Riki says, sliding into the seat across from you. His eyes briefly meet yours before he looks down at the table. "Hi," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your nerves are on edge. There’s a moment of silence between you two, the kind that always seemed to stretch on forever. You want to fill it with something, but words feel like they’re just out of reach.

Finally, he speaks again. "So, what’s your deal?" You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugs, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before looking away again. "Like, why are you always tryna talk to me. You barely know me." His bluntness takes you by surprise, but somehow it doesn’t feel as cold as you thought it would. It’s almost… honest.

You take a deep breath. "I don’t know. You’re just different, you know? It’s hard to ignore." He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

"I mean yeah, like you’re this whole mystery. I just want to figure you out." For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans back in his seat, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. You feel like he’s reading you, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s trying to figure you out too. Then, without warning, he leans forward, closing the space between you. His hand brushes against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Well," he says, voice low, "maybe you’ll find out soon." Before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. It’s sudden, soft at first, but the intensity quickly builds, and everything else fades away. The warmth of his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, and for a moment, everything feels completely different, like this is where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, trying to catch your breath. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something—something you can’t quite place. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough. You nod, still in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think I’m more than okay." You bite your lower lip slightly, blushing profusely.

You both sit there for a moment, the air thick with tension and a thousand unspoken words. Your heart is still racing, but now, it's not from nerves. It's from the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted between you two. He doesn't move away, instead, his eyes search yours, almost like he's waiting for something.

Your mind is swirling, but your body seems to take over, leaning in closer, lips barely brushing against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in with a force you can't resist. Without thinking, you kiss him again— this time deeper, more urgent. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin as he pulls you in, his other hand sliding to your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest as he kisses you back with a hunger you didn't expect.

It's nothing like the first kiss-this one is raw, a mix of desire and need. You feel his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch almost desperate, and it sends a rush of heat through you. Your hands instinctively find his shirt, tugging him closer, as if you can't get enough of him.

His lips move with yours, more demanding now, and you match his intensity, breathless and wanting more. You can't explain it, but everything about him feels right-how he holds you, how his lips mold against yours, like this was always meant to happen. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat building between you two. The kiss deepens, and everything else disappears-there's only him, only this moment.

When Riki pulls away, both of you are panting, eyes locked, faces inches apart. "You sure about this?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, trusting your voice.

You're sure. You want this. You want him.

Without saying another word, he tilts his head toward a washroom near by the cafeteria. Afterall you both can't do anything with people around, so that was the only option. You get up, your heart beating even faster as he follows behind you. He pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind you.

He slowly turns around, pushing your back against the wall and his lips are on yours again, and this time, it feels like the beginning of something that neither of you can pull away from. The kiss continues, deepening with each passing second. His hands move, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you either. The way he holds you makes everything else fade into the background-the noise of the cafeteria, the people walking by the washroom, it all feels distant and irrelevant.

You feel his breath against your lips, a slight tremor in his touch as his fingers trace the curve of your back. Your own hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pull him in even closer, wanting more of him. You can taste the faint trace of mint on his breath, and it only makes you crave him more.

Riki slowly pulls away from the kiss, the both of you breathless. Finally his hand slides down your thigh, inching under your skirt. "Can I?" He grunts out as you nod at him almost instantly. "Starting to think you've wanted this for a while now," he chuckles, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and groping your ass, a small moan escaping your lips. "S-shut up will you?" He smirks, his lips trail down, leaving wet kisses down your neck. 

You press your lips tightly together, glaring at him playfully. You can't help but feel a surge of need. It's like you're both fighting the same battle, giving in to something that's been building up for weeks. Suddenly you find your hand guiding his further up your skirt.

Riki doesn't hesitate, immediately shoving your hand aside and tearing your panties apart with his hands. He gets down on his knees and buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds without warning like a starved man. Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, looking down at him in slight surprise. "Fuck, you're so wet." He growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He groans as he feels your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your delicious moans spurring him on. He alternates between long, teasing licks and quick flicks against your clit, savoring your sweet taste. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you harder against his face. "F...fuck ah mmph.." Your back arches against the wall, clawing at it slightly as you try to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to hear.

He hooks his arms around your legs and throws them over his shoulders, opening you up even wider. He laps his tongue greedily around your clit, determined to make you come on his face before he allows himself to enter you. "Mmh." He groans against your pussy, your body shaking slightly from the vibration. "A-ah Riki..." The stall gets filled up with slurping sounds along with your quiet desperate moans.

He slightly pulls back, looking up at you with half closed eyes. Your breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead. "Riki or daddy?" He licks his lower lip slightly, smirking a bit as he sees your widened eyes. "I..I am not calling you that weirdo." He tilts his head back, "Hey hey, it was just a suggestion."

"I'll think... about it." You whisper embarrassed, turning a light shade of red when he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thats my good girl." Your legs slightly tremble at the name, butterflies forming in your stomach before he spreads your legs wider, feasting on your pussy like it's his last meal. He growls against your cunt when you reach down to grip his hair. Your about to reach your climax and he knows it.

"I-I'm gonna-" you whine out, the sound echoes around the empty washroom. Riki snaps his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. "Come on my face, baby." His tongue laps up your juices, going fast and hard against your sensitive nub. "Give it to me." His words are more than enough for you to reach your high, finding yourself cumming all over his face, your thighs shaking violently while you try your hardest not to scream from the pleasure.

He feels your body convulse with your climax. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them back almost painfully, allowing him deeper access. His tongue goes wild, licking and sucking every last bit of your juice. He growls softly against your pussy before pulling back, licking your release off his lips. You suck in a moan, looking down at him.

Riki's cock is aching against his jeans, begging to be free. "P-please." He hears your soft beg. He unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes darkening. "Do you want my dick?" His voice is deep, seeing you slowly nod your head. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slowly, letting you admire his impressive size. A droplet of precum pearls at the tip as he grunts. You stare intently, gulping at his length, "You're..."

He steps forward, turning you around and lifting your ass up, rubbing the head against your sensitive entrance. "Yeah? Think you can take it?" His voice is thick with desire as he pushes the tip just slightly inside you, a loud gasp escaping your mouth. "So far for being quiet." Riki says teasingly as you glare up at him playfully, swallowing hard. "I-I'm trying my hardest," He chuckles while pushing in slightly more, filling you with just the tip. "Am I too big?" He grunts, your hands going up to grip his shoulders tightly.

"I-I can take it.." you whimper out. "You sure?" He feeds you another inch, making you wince slightly. He watches your face closely. "Tsk, you're only halfway there." He pulls back slightly then pushes in another inch, hitting a new spot inside you which causes your mouth to open wide. "You really can take my whole dick? Don't wanna hurt you." His voice drops lower.

You just nod, desperation taking over you. "Good girl." He praises darkly, then grips your hips tightly and slams his hips forward, impaling you completely on his massive length. For a second, your vision gets blurry, the pleasure overwhelming. "Fuck!" He roars as he bottoms out inside you, gripping on your hips tightly. You let out a loud straining moan before hearing someone walk into the washroom.

The both of you freeze, and Riki doesn't move inside you just yet. Your slightly panicking but he doesn't seem to care because he begins to grind his hips slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. Your mouth opens wide, but he quickly covers it with his hand, leaning down and whispers against your ear, "That pussy just swallowed every inch of my cock like such a good girl." His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you open wider. You swallow hard, whimpering against his palm. "Shh, don't wanna get caught do you?"

Finally that person seems to leave — and Riki's hand leaves your mouth. His thick shaft drags in and out of your tight, soaked pussy at a brutal pace. Each thrust makes you wince and whimper, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room. "F-fuck ah.. Riki-" You roll your eyes back, your mind becoming blank.

He can feel your gentle scratches against his back as he pounds into you, his hands tightening on your thighs. "Fuck, baby. This what you wanted? My dick destroying your insides?" You nod, opening your mouth to speak but words come out as moans instead. He pulls your hips further up to get deeper inside you. He leans forward, his mouth finding yours in a harsh, bruising kiss as he continues to rut into you.

He groans loudly into the kiss as he feels your pussy clench tightly around his throbbing shaft before breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Shit, you're squeezing me so fucking tight." He adjusts his angle, deliberately targeting your G-spot with every powerful thrust.

Your trying to grip on the walls, but your fingers slip. "G-gonna cum..." His eyes darken with lust at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. Milk my dick with that tight cunt." He reaches down and circles his thumb over your clit, applying pressure in time with his thrusts.

And with that, He feels your release bathe his length, making him groan loudly. Your pussy pulses around him tightly, almost painfully. He pumps into you erratically, losing his rhythm. He lowers his head and watches as your fluids coat his shaft, making it glide easily in and out of your body.

He pants heavily, finally unleashing his pent up load deep inside of your wet cunt. Your back arches against him as he does so, the both of you letting out loud moans from the feeling. Then he pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices. "Fuck." He holds your waist and you tremble, putting your whole body weight on him since your struggling to stand.

The bathroom stall feels too small now, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You’re both still breathing heavily, and there’s a quiet, almost uncomfortable stillness between you.

He leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to process everything. You do the same, your mind racing a little. It’s strange how quickly things shifted, how in the span of just a few minutes, everything between you changed. You glance over at him. He’s still looking at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both just sitting there in the aftermath, unsure of what to say next.

"So… that happened," you murmur, trying to break the silence. He lets out a small laugh, but it’s low, more to himself than anything. “Yeah. Guess it did.” His voice sounds different now, less guarded, but there’s still that underlying tension. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or nervous. A mix of both. "I didn’t expect it to happen like this, especially here." He looks around the cramped stall, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Neither did I. But… it’s not the worst place, I guess."

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “So… what now?” you ask, the question hanging in the air between you. He pauses, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he looks at you, his gaze steady. "I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be a one-time thing." You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. "Neither do I."

💘: thank you so much for all your support on my storiesss!! i didnt expect anyone to like them, so thank youu!!!🥹💕💕 ill get to the rest of the requests soon, im currently busy w school so itll take some time, thanks for your patience🫶

[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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-

Hope you enjoyed. xoxo

Send in imagine requests for Dove & Captain!

Ava <3

[graciedollie]

Can you do all the major milfs x reader and like we getting pass around like a drink. ☺️😵‍💫

Taker

pair: arcane!milfs x reader

summary: it was your usual day like any other in the brothel, dealing with usual customers and having to deal with their requests, though, that would change when you saw four new faces..

warnings: 18+ content, reader is a prostitute, strap-on usage, fingering, overstimulation, BRIEF shimmer usage (NOT A LOT I PROMISE), reader literally gets passed around…, rough (wo)manhandling, praise, degradation, and probably more.

a/n: hope you enjoy and this lowkey may be long!!! also I recommend listening to Life Of The Party By The Weeknd for this (obsessed with this damn song).

I'm so far gone and you are too

Show me how you go downtown

With the drugs in your body

Take that step, you're the life of the party

Know that step, you're the life of the party

It was a busy day at the brothel. Women and men, who worked there, were bustling with customers left and right—one lea, just for another to enter. It was busy, that’s for sure. With you, you had the same old customers, sometimes new faces appeared before you—other than that, it was just the usuals. It made money, yeah, but it was boring as shit sometimes.

That was until you saw four new faces.

Ambessa Medarda, fearless warlord, known for her power and resilience. Cassandra Kirammin, Piltover’s beloved council member, known to be quite the charming and strong woman. Sheriff Grayson, one of Piltover’s best sheriffs, very known down in Zaun and Sevika, pretty well known down here as well, known to be quiet ‘the scary lady’, but also holds a good loyal to her.

It was an odd arrangement, but you didn’t really complain since you knew that it would be good money—especially if they were from Topside. Though, it did make you wonder why they would all come to you out of everyone else, maybe because you just so happened to catch their eye? Who knew?

You tried not to think much of as you got yourself ready in your little booth. Putting on your mask and applying some lipstick that matched your baby blue lingerie set—leaving nearly nothing to be hidden. Eyeing yourself a couple times and spraying some perfume on before taking a quick breath of shimmer—amping you up a little, you finally made your way to the room where you found the four woman, looking over at you with a darkened gaze as you stepped in.

“So this is the one you’ve suggested, I suppose?” Cassandra would murmured lowly as she gaze you up-and-down look, taking in your stature—feeling quite pleased with the mere sight before her. “Mhm, quite the sight, yeah?” Sevika quipped back with a proud smirk, taking a puff of her cigarillo before stumping it out on the ashtray besides her.

Grayson and Ambessa just silently observed you with a predatory gaze, thinking of all the things that’ll go down this very night. A smirk crept along Ambessa’s lip as she stood up, stalking over to you with slow, heavy footsteps of her boot till she stood in front of you; grasping your chin firmly. “I take it you can handle all of us, child?“ God you nearly felt your knees buck as her peering eyes met yours, looking down at you with a sultry gaze.

You cleared your throat briefly as you nodded, “Of course, I can assure you that I’ll make it worth your time…” You trailed off with a sultry tone, eyeing the other three as you continued. “Each and everyone of you..” The other women shared looks between themselves before nodding in agreement, sharing a nonverbal thought before looking back at you with that same gaze, “Is that right?” Grayson soon spoke up, her husky and raspy voice sending chills up your spine.

Oh this was gonna be fun.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You found yourself seated on Ambessa’s lap while seated on the bed, back pressing against her ample chest as she bullied two fingers into your sopping cunt—earning whimpers and moans from you. For once, you felt embarrassed with how you felt exposed with the other women watching you closely—watching with that hungry glare. “Look at you…takin me all in so nicely. I bet you never did this with any other customer, have you, child? Never made you feel as good as this, hm?” All she was returned with was a whimper and a shake of your head.

She wanted a solid answer.

Her fingers slipped out of you to land a slap to your clit, making you cry out and squirm in her grasp. “I asked you a question. Do not make me ask again.” “N-no! Never felt this way…t-this good!” She hummed in approval and slipped the thick digits back into your welcoming cunt, cringing at the squelching noise.

Sevika eyes stayed stuck on yours, particularly on the way your expression was filled with bliss and ecstasy whenever Ambessa would thrust her finger repeatedly in that spongy spot that made you see stars. She and Ambessa shared a glance before Sevika made her way up to you, suddenly pulling you into a messy, rough kiss—moaning and groaning into the feverish kiss. Your fluttering eyes peered open to glance at the other, Grayson and Cassandra. The mere sight of them made you throb. Both women hands roamed over their bodies as their lips locked—sensing that they definitely had some sort of ‘fling’, but we keep that hush here.

Ambessa eyes watched the two of you share the messy kiss together, watching in pure satisfaction and pleasure as she watched your body jerked when her thumb strummed over your throbbing clit. “Quite responsive…how cute.” Sevika lips pulled from yours, panting heavily before she leaned to attack your neck with feverish bites and kisses—warning whimpers and groans from you. Your hips jerked and thighs twitched as you felt the fiery sensation burn in your stomach, “G-gonna cum…p-please..”

A small hum escaped Ambessa’s lip at your breathless pleads, practically relishing it all in. “Mm, should we let our precious cum or no?” She hummed to the others, all three exchanging glances before giving a knowing glare to her—this wouldn’t be the only you’ll time you’ll be cumming anyway, so she let you have it. Your vision blurred with spots of black and white, feeling your body lock up with a broken moan leaving you; feeling your body shudder with impact of the orgasm. It nearly left you utterly breathless.

Sevika lips finally pulled away from your neck, relishing your heaving chest and marked neck and jaw—the sight made her clit throbbed in her boxers. “Felt good, didn’t it, babydoll?” She murmured lowly, grasping your cheeks and cupping them to make your lips puff. You gave her a small nod, looking at her as if she held everything just with the palm of her hand.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s gonna get even better.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“That’s it…”

Ambessa drawled out with that sultry tone as you licked feverishly at her soaked pussy, holding your head in place with a firm hand as your eyes fluttered up at her—never leaving hers. “Doing so well …” The praise of her felt absolutely heavenly, along with the way Sevika thrust were deep and rough, hitting that spot repeatedly with the faux dick. Your muffled moans vibrated against Ambessa’s soaked flesh, earning low moans and grunts from her. Your eyes teared up as Sevika placed her flesh hand on the small of your lower, pressing you deeper into an arch and allowing her to hit deeper.

“Yeah, there you go….takin it so good. Justttt like that, baby.” The way her voice flowed through your ears made your eyes roll back, whining and moaning to no end. Your lips latched onto the warlord’s clit as you suckled on it with steady licks, feeling her body tense and lock up as you watched her throw her head back—seeing the way her throat bobbed and jaw clenched. Tightly grasping at her toned thighs, you double down on your efforts. Your tongue slipped inside her and slurped messily and nosily, moaning and whining as Sevika’s thrust became more rough. “Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little careless with the girl, no?” That familiar voice rasped out, Grayson, who was nearly breathlessly after the little session between her and Cassandra. Sevika shared her a glance before chuckling lowly, suddenly slapping your ass and making you jolt, but Ambessa held you in place just for her.

“Course not. She’s a big girl.” She leaned down against your ear as her flesh hand snaked between your trembling legs and rubbing your aching clit in time with her thrusts, “I know she’ll take it anyway.” A small whine slipped from you at her whispered words, feeling that fiery sensation build up quickly. Ambessa’s thighs locked around your head as her body tensed up, feeling the taste of her gush into your mouth as her own body reached its limit. You followed shortly after. Your vision blurred with spots of white and black, cumming with a muffled cry as your thighs shook and trembled. Sevika pulled out a little, just to see the white ring coat her strap perfectly. “That’s what I wanted to see..” She groaned lowly before suddenly sinking back in, making you grasp Ambessa’s thighs tighter and body to jerk before she placed a hand on your lower back to keep you steady. “No, no—you can take it.”

You shook your head with protest as she slowly thrusted in and out of you, whining and whimpering as the rigged veins rubbed your sensitive walls and hit that certain spot. “I—oh fuck—I-I can’t…” Ambessa took hold of your chin, gazing into your teary eyes with a lustful glint. She pulled you from her thighs and close to a firm, feverish kiss—muffling your whiny protest. With each thrust, the base of the strap kept hitting Sevika’s clit over and over again; earning groans and low moans from her.

“Now, now, child. You’ll take what we give you.” Ambessa chided with a low tone as she pulled away from the kiss, seeing how your eyes were barely even able to focus on her.

She couldn’t have that.

Her palm came down on your cheek, sending stinging shivers to your cheeks, making you alert once more. “There she is..” Your teary eyes gazed up at the woman like a puppy begging for permission, making her smirk at the mere sight. “Ohhh…is Sevika being too rough with you?” She murmured with a low murmur, brushing her thumb over your tear-struck cheeks and smudged the runny mascara. “M-mhm! Y-yes—oh fuck—please!” Your whines and whimper spurred the women on, feeling how Sevika thrusts became more feverish and uncoordinated; making your head swarm. “S-shit…” Was all the woman behind you could groan out before her hips stuttered as the orgasm hit her, lazily rutting against you before she slowly pulled out—admiring the mess before being interrupted.

“Isn’t it rude to hog, hm?”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Your face was buried deep between Grayson’s thighs as she settled on your face, hungrily licking and sucking at her soaked core as Cassandra’s leg was thrown over yours, holding your leg around her waist as her clit bumped with yours in a rhythmic motion. Your head was swirling with the overwhelming sensation. Moans and groans filled the room of the three of you as the other two watched closely while openly touching themselves—it was definitely quite the sight.

Grayson fingers tugged at your hair as you held onto her thighs tightly, moaning into her cunt as she would grind against the velvety tongue, “That it…there you do, doin so—mgh—good..” Hearing the way her raspy voice filled your eyes made your clit throb against Cassandra’s clit, making her moan at the sensation. “I—oh god—think she likes it, dear…” Cassandra slender fingers trailed up and down your trembling legs, occasionally placing sweet kisses up and down the shaky muscle.

Your ears picked up the faint sounds of low moans and heavy breathing, peeking from Grayson thighs to look over and see the other women enjoying themselves—knuckles deep into their cunt, seeing how arousal coated the curly bush of hair.

The sight nearly made you cum right there and then.

Cassandra’s slender fingers slipped up to your breast, brushing over your hardened nipples with a gentle touch; making your hips jerk. “T-that’s it, lovely…just like that—ah!” Her head fell back as your husk bucked up to her, making your clits bump perfectly together in the perfect motion. A whimper erupted from your mouth at the shrill of electric shooting through your weary body.

Grayson settled further down on your mouth as you stopped briefly, “C’mon, love—there you go—shit…” A shaky breath fell from her lips as you resumed your ravenous pursuit to her clit, feeling the way her body tensed up and breathing became rigged.

Your thighs started to tremble with the way Cassandra started to roll and grind her clit over yours in a steady motion, feeling the slick run down to your ass—making a mess of the sheets once more. “Look at that. Such a dirty—f-fuck—girl, yeah?” Your ears picked up the sound of Sevika low tone, hearing the low moan that threatened to escape her mouth as you knew she was getting closer herself, along with Ambessa. Feeling the way Grayson thighs tensed around your head, you knew she wasn’t far either—nor were you or Cassandra as the pornographic noises became more louder. A low moan—nearly a shuddery breath—fell from Grayson’s mouth as her thighs locked up around your head.

And then it happened.

Hush of liquors spurred from her spasming hole as her thighs trembled alongside your head, weakly grinded against your mouth as she rode the waves of the organs out; breathing heavily as your bleary eyes looked up at her—seeing beads of sweat on her neck and forehead, the way her eyes fluttered with a daze, and how her breathing was shaky. Meanwhile, Cassandra rolled her hips with a quicker, but steady pace as she felt that hand in her stomach tighten—tighten—and tighten till she came crumbling down, letting out a soft moan that became louder as she continued to grind against you—making you whimper loudly as you suddenly felt that tingling sensation in you erupt.

Grayson slowly settled off you as you moaned and whined to no end, body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm—leaving you feeling practically boneless. Cassandra’s face was flushed as a rose, panting heavily as her own thighs trembled, slowly moving off you before laying down beside you as the three of you panted like an overworked dog. You stared up at the ceiling with a dazed gaze as your ears ringed, slowly tuning back in as you started to slowly started to fall back in. Your eyes flickered over to the Sev and Bessa—seeing the complete between their thighs and pools of liquid dripping onto the floor.

Someone definitely gained some regulars.

hope you enjoyed bbys!!! (sorry ts took so long to publish UGHHH) <3

taglist 🏷️!! @supalcina @abbyslvrrr @zthebean27 @ivorydevil @halle5s @tqlepatia @jhyoos @haruko--bby @madewithsilk

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[goorgeousz]

bed chem | aaron hotchner

after hours au

bed chem | aaron hotchner

after hours au

18+ MDNI

summary: you just moved into a new city, finally getting a job promotion. when you visit the bar near your new place to celebrate, you didn’t expect to walk out with company.

pairing: aaron hotchner x female reader

content/tw: smut, female reader, p in v sex, protected sex, oral (f and m receiving), (very VERY self-indulgent, honestly), dirty talking, filthy words, hotch eating reader out from the back (!!!!!), reader riding hotch, mentions of morning sex,

word count: 4.6k

a/n: this is the first time I write on tumblr (hopefully not last) and the first time I write about criminal minds! English is not my first language so keep that in mind… i’m on season 11 and ugh I have so many ideas all the time, I just had to let it out! I planned this to be a series, I’m super excited!! hope you enjoy :)

after hous au masterlist

main masterlist

You regretted going out as soon as you stepped into the bar. It was a sunday night, for christ’s sake, you should be doing your skincare, maybe watching a crappy reality show, getting ready for your first day at work.

But the moving in really caught up to you, and you didn’t have any time to celebrate your promotion until now. And if there is one thing about you is that you can’t not celebrate big or small accomplishments. 

This is why you found yourself in an unknown bar near your new apartment, in your new city, ready to get a drink and celebrate your promotion. Alone.

When you opened the bar's glass doors, the place being as crowded as you’d expect a bar on a sunday night to be, a loud and dramatic bell rang, making everyone look at you. Most of them didn’t keep they’re glance for more than a second, but it was enough time for your face to heat in embarrassment.

The bar was dark, most of the illumination coming from the led decorations on the walls and ceiling. Some booths on the corners, a few tables splayed across the place and the bar in the center, with some barstools displayed in front of it.

Not wanting to seem lost, you directed yourself to one of the barstools without hesitation. Sitting alone at one of the tables would seem much more lonely. Placing yourself in one of the furthest barstools, you fixed your black leather jacket on your shoulders, still feeling cold from outside.

“What can I get you, sugar?” the badman asked immediately, throwing a cloth over his shoulder and resting his hands on the counter “Can you get me a scotch, please?” you asked “Yes ma’am.” he nodded, leaning down to grab two whiskey glasses “Look, seems like you are matching.” he smiled, handing you one of the drinks and the other to the man one seat away from you.

Only then you paid attention to said man. He was older than you, his dark hair reflecting the colorful leds on the wall. His face showed tiredness, contracting with his tailored suit perfectly lined up, not one single wrinkle. His brown eyes shone, you realized when you exchanged a glance, analysing each other.

You measured each other for a while, until he surprisingly raised his glass, in a silent toast. You smiled at that, mimicking his gesture. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly in an almost smile while he brought the drink into his mouth and took a long sip, without taking his eyes off you. 

You weren’t ready to admit that his gaze warmed you up more than the strong liquid you had going down your throat.

“It’s my first time here” you said, feeling the subtle need to start a conversation. He arched an eyebrow in a mix of surprise and encouragement for you to keep talking. You decided to keep going before the liquor courage slipped away “Do you come here a lot?”

“Not much.” he answered, finishing his drink. His voice thick and low made your eyes lower to his lips still wet from the drink, like you were intimidating it to keep talking. You gulped down your drink, trying to distract yourself from the staring, not wanting to look like a creep. Realizing he had to be a little less stoic if he wanted the conversation to keep flowing, he continued “I’d usually be at home, but work…” he took a deep breath “It was a stressful week.” you nodded in sympathy “You too?”

“Not really. I’m celebrating. Just got promoted.” you explained, smiling. He gave another of his almost-smiles, but a little less unexpressive.

“Good job.” he said, and you couldn’t pretend his praise didn’t get to you “Can I buy you a drink? To celebrate.” he suggested, his serious expression just slightly suggestive. You agreed before he could finish asking. “Only if you drink with me. Doesn’t seem like a celebration if I'm by myself.” you flirted bluntly.

Then he really smiled. Although it was a rather discreet smile, it was enough for you to spend the rest of the night finding reasons to get him to smile again, making you have to fight the urge to just jump in his bones right there when he did.

While he ordered you another round of drink, you moved from the seat next to him, his side pressed directly to yours, the heat suddenly so high you had to take off your jacket.

His gaze wandered to each inch of your now displayed arms and shoulders, slow, hungry and warm, stopping at your face. Deciding to distract yourself with the first thing that came to mind, before you devoured him, you introduced yourself with nothing but your first name – yes, that intimate – offering your hand for him to shake.

Which turned out to be a terrible idea, because when he did, his hand, large, warm and calloused, wrapped almost completely yours, turning you on even more.

“Aaron.” he said, mimicking you and going for first name basis “Aaron” you repeated instinctively, needing to taste the sound of his name from your mouth “Mhm” he murmured, his gaze fixed on your lips almost predatory. Before he could say anything, the barman came back with your drinks, sliding them to you with a knowing look “To your promotion.” he offered, raising his glass towards you. “And to the next week. May it be less stressing” you added, making him chuckle.

The rest of the night was a blurry. Neither of you discussed anything personal, with you being new in the city and him being a stranger – a very hot, sexy, strong stranger, but still – it was best to avoid. You, more than anyone, knew how far man could go.

Despite all this wisdom, nothing stopped you from letting him caress your thigh softly between one topic and another.

A couple hours passed by, the alcohol and his smooth talk already vanishing any hesitation about that being a  good idea. The bar was starting to seem too hot, the group of people sitting in one of the booths talking loud enough to be a bother, and, truthfully, what you wanted to do to Aaron could never happen at that bar in front of that many people. Unless you wanted to end up handcuffed beside him.

Which didn’t seem like that bad of an idea, you thought.

“You're staring” he stated, looking at you with a barely-there-smirk. You were already outside, after he – very discreetly, mind you – covered the bill with a tip so high that made the bartender howl.

“Am I?” you asked, a predatory smile spreading on your lips “Does that bother you?” he narrowed his eyes “Some people may find it disturbing” “Do you?” you blinked lingeringly. He approached you, his lips almost connected to your ear, his breath warming you from the cold outside “Looking at me like that, I can’t imagine something you can do that bothers me.”

“Aaron” you practically moaned, begging for something you still didn’t know what it was. But apparently he did. His name on your lips, your voice hoarse from desire, was almost like a curse, a spell. He was a goner as soon as he heard it. With a steady but gentle hand, he grabbed your chin, angling your face towards his.

As soon as his lips connected to yours, it was over.

Ignoring the annoying little voice in your head that reminded you these being your first days in the city and you shouldn’t bring a stranger back to your place, you told him you lived only one block away, a clear invite implied.

In what felt like 1 minute and 3 hours at the same time, you arrived at your building, luckily getting the elevator empty. Not even waiting for the doors to close, Aaron backed you up on the corner of the elevator, his tall and strong body pressing your back to the wall while his mouth worked wonders on your neck. Any good manners you may have turned into far memories while he drags moans out of you with every touch, kiss and breath.

His hands left the deathly grip on your hips and took hold of your jacket, taking it off of you. He groaned when your shoulders were back on display, his mouth immediately connecting to them. The leather of the jacket slided though your arms, and he picked it up before it hit the ground.

The elevator doors opened, and you walked out together to your apartment. You got the keys in the hidden pocket of your jacket, which he held out in a politeness that was almost comical if compared with the brutality of you making out just a few seconds before, and tried to open the door with shaking fingers.

It was a hard job, honestly, but the attentive gaze he fixated on you and on each one of your movements made you more uneasy than if he was touching you. He chuckled when you almost dropped the key, which embarrassed you and turned you on simultaneously. You silently thank god when you finally manage to unlock the door, getting in and letting him follow suit.

You locked the door while he placed your jacket on a chair. You fixed your dress, which under his attentiveness felt like three times shorter, and wandered towards the dinner table, subtly feeling shy.

“Do you want something to eat?” you offered, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. He tilted his head to the side, a smirk slowly growing on his face “Yes. Bend over.” he nodded towards the table behind you, and your breath hitched.

You didn’t feel any shame at how fast you turned away from him and bent over your dinner table, submitting to him and his orders.

Aaron grazed the tip of his fingers through your covered back, his tough somehow feather-like and firm at the same time. You held back a moan because it would be pathetic being so turned on by that.

He moved your hair to the side in a swift motion, finding your zipper on your upper back. While he unzipped your dress in a torturous-slow pace, he left open-mouth kisses within every inch of skin that got exposed. You stopped fighting against the sounds that threatened to escape with every touch of his.

When he got to the very end of the zipper, on your lower back, he lifted you off the table by your waist just enough to slide the dress off your legs. The strangled sound he made when he saw you lying on the table, nothing on your body except for your blood red lacy underwear and high heels, made your legs shake.

He approached you, gripping tightly on your hips and massaging your ass-cheeks like it was a play toy. He squeezed you, lifted you and pressed you against the table, manhandling you at his own wishes. Your moans were nothing but a fuel for him to continue the erotic exploration through your skin.

“Aaron…” you murmured, begging. “Mhmm” he agreed, not needing any other incentive to remove the last piece of fabric you had on. Despite the slow and tortured manners he used to take off your dress, he got rid of your underwear urgently and hungrily, throwing it across the room without another thought.

He stepped back to watch the mess he made without even having properly started with you, proud of himself. Your body displayed across the dinner table, your back arched as much as possible and your stomach pressed against the cold material. Your ass thrown back, your legs slightly parted and your heat open and wet, daring him to come closer.

You looked back, the lack of his body heat pressed against you causing you literal pain, and the way he stared at you, his pupil dilated and a evil smirk dancing on his lips, was an entire foreplay on its own. Your naked self displayed like a meal in contrast with his perfectly straightened suit was a sight so obscene that it should be a crime.

Not wanting to be entirely submissive, you swayed your hips, throwing them even more in his direction, which immediately wiped the smirk off his face. He stepped closer so fast that you only registered the slap he gave you when you felt the hot ache on the flesh of your ass, hoping the bruise of his large and calloused hand turned a tattoo on your skin.

“Nice mirror.” he murmured, referring to the long and asymmetrical mirror on the right side of the table, reaching the ceiling. For a moment you forgot about it, still not used to your apartment, so looking at the sight of you two almost drove you insane.

Aaron distanced himself just enough to manage to swipe a hand between the two of you, gently caressing your folds with his ring and middle finger. He groaned, his hand already slippery from your juices.

“Please.” you begged. His feather-like touches were better than nothing but far from enough to give you any relief “Use your words, dear.” he said, somehow sounding tender and sarcastic at the same time “I need… You…. Do something, anything… Whatever you want, just… Please” you panted, his hand gripping your hip tight enough to keep you from moving. “Hmmm” he agreed, finally satisfied with your answer. You almost screamed when you saw him kneeling down through the mirror, his face directly aligned with your open folds.

“Oh my…” your words turned into a yelp when you felt Aaron’s tongue lick a stripe down your folds, from your clit down to your hole, and you shake in anticipation. He alternated between wet kisses, the same way he did with your mouth, and caressed his fingers, using the same two he used to tease you to penetrate you.

The squeal you let out when he pressed his thumb on your clit was loud enough to make him stand up, stepping away. You turned your face to him desperately, making him chuckle. “Calm down” he snorted, staring deeply at your eyes as he undid his tie -the first piece of clothing he let go. Instead of getting undressed, he crumpled the thick and expensive-looking fabric and shoved it into your mouth, which for some reason was slightly opened while you watched him. “You’re being too loud and it’s already too late.” he explained, his smirk showing how much he was enjoying degrading you like that -you were too. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and he leaned closer, tugging your hair to place your head against his shoulder. “If someone interrupts us to complain about the noise I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

With your mouth being full, you only managed to moan in response – not that you would be able to form anything else even if you could. He just chuckled and kneeled down again.

Now he wasn’t exploring you anymore: he was fully devouring you. He knew exactly where to touch, where to bite and where to lick to make your legs shake and gave out. You drooled on his tie, your moans and yelps muffled with it. Your brain was partially melted, your instincts almost animalistics while his wet kisses quickly – almost too quickly – worked you up.

He felt you clench around his fingers, penetrating you skillfully, letting out a strangled groan  while he curved his fingers in a hook inside you and sucked on your clit. You didn’t have an ounce of shame inside of you, only desperation while you rubbed yourself on his face, chasing the relief you knew it was about to happen.

And it did.

Your vision blurred, and as much as you wanted it, you couldn’t keep your eyes opened. Your legs gave out and if it weren’t for the strong grip of Aaron you would’ve probably hit the ground. He didn’t stop his kisses and caresses, just making it more gently, helping you ride out your orgasm as long as possible. When you started to get too sensible he stepped back, licking his fingers and murmuring in content with your taste. The fact that he did that for himself, not just to tease you, was enough for the heat on the pit of your stomach to come back as strong as before, having to fight the urge to throw your ass back at him again.

Before you could actually do it, he stood up and helped you to climb off your heels. He held you by your hips and spinned you around, planting a kiss on your forehead. He smirked when we saw this tie still properly stuffed on your mouth and took it off “Good girl.” he winked, leaning to kiss you on your partially numb mouth. His praise made you unconsciously push your hips against his, feeling his hardened crouch poking your lower back. The evidence of what you’ve done to him gave you pride and confidence, all you needed to take control of the situation – at least as much as he was willing to give you.

“Come to my room” you whispered, looking at him with your eyes slightly wide “I wanna ride you on my brand new bed” you blinked, a smug expression on your face. He seemed lost for a second, recomposing himself almost immediately and pulling you tight against his chest.

You stood up, trying as hard as you could to keep composed with your wobbly legs, and guided him to your bedroom. He stepped in, his attentive eyes scanning the place at first, like he wanted to understand it – understand you. Having arrived in the city only a few days ago, you didn’t have time to properly decorate the place. Except for a few pieces of furniture, your book collection and the queen sized bed with mahogany coloured sheets, the apartment hadn’t had time to absorb your extravagant personality – yet.

The sight of Aaron in his tailored suit, fully dressed – besides the discarded tie in the dining room – standing in your dark and feminine room made your breath hitch. Recomposing yourself, you stepped closer to him, pulling further into your room, and kissed him, languidly and thirsty, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket and pushing down his shoulders. He let go of your waist and let the fabric slide down his arms, and you latched onto them to feel his firm biceps flexing with the force of his grip now on your breasts. His calloused hand doing wonders to your sensitive flesh, squeezing and massaging them skillfully. You yelped when he pinched your nipples, feeling his grin against your lips.

You hurried to unbutton his dress shirt and almost yelped in joy when heard the clicking metal of his belt being undone. In a mess of kisses, bites and hands, he took his clothes off, keeping the boxers.

You stepped back from the kiss and glanced down, your fingers grazing his defined torso, feeling and hearing his breath hitch with your gentle touch. The lights of the city didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough for you to see the dark hairs and scars spread along his body, making you want to know him better and understand where which of them came from.

Any elaborated thought dissipated as soon as your eyes focused on the volume of his boxers, his hardened, thick and voluptuous transpiring power from under the thin cotton fabric. When your hand wrapped him, still over his underwear, he grunted and let his head fall against yours, breathing heavily.

“Can I ride you, Aaron? I want it so bad, please” you purred, your voice hoarse from desire while looking at him through your lashes. 

He was doomed.

“Fuck.” he whispered, loving being manipulated by you. He slides his boxers down, and when his dick sprung out of it, its red and swollen tip leaking with precum, you thought you were dreaming. You couldn’t hold yourself back and wrapped your hand around it, squeezing him tightly. He groaned, pushing you back and climbing on your bed. He half laid on the head of your bed, his upper back leaning against the bed frame. His head tilted backwards, his large hand massaging his thick dick, staring at you with dark and lustful eyes. The sight was engraved in your brain forever. “Aren’t you coming?”

You laughed, climbing on the bed and crawling to him in a feline gaze. You stopped between his open legs, his thick thighs and powerful making you look even smaller. You kneeled in front of him, taking his dick off his hands and mimicking his gestures. His eyes fluttered close, his lips pressed tightly together. It wasn’t your intention – at least not now – but you ended up leaning down and pressing a wet kiss on his tip, making his eye shot open with surprise and pleasure.

You licked his length – and what a length – not leaving any inch untouched. His breathing was already unsteady, his eyes fighting a battle to keep open, alternating between your eyes and your mouth and the wonders you were doing to him.

“I have other plans for you tonight” you smiled, sitting up and getting a condom on your bedside table. You skillfully opened the package and handed it to him, who nimbly placed on himself, his gaze locked on yours so vividly that could –and maybe should – scare you. If your expression didn’t match his.

He pulled you in as if you weighed nothing, placing you on his lap. You hoovered over his dick, biting your lower lip in anticipation. You held him steady, directing him on your wet cunt. Looked deeply into his eyes, you lowered slowly, feeling every single inch of his invade and stretch you. Both of you groaned loudly at the contact, fighting against the please to keep your gazes locked together.

“Fuck…” he swore “So fucking tight” he groaned, gripping your hips so tightly you were sure – and hopeful – it would leave marks. “So big… You’re so big. Stretching me.” you moaned unreasonably, just saying whatever crossed your mind. He squeezed you tighter. When you sinked down completely, taking all of him inside you, he gritted his teeth. “Christ” he managed to whisper between his teeth. Not easing even slightly up his death grip on your hips, he started to move you. Not up and down, back and forth. Grinding you against himself, his dick deep and greedy inside you. The friction so delicious and dangerous.

“Good god, Aaron” you moaned, digging your nails on the flesh of his shoulders “So… so good” you managed between pants. “Mhmm” he agreed, looking at you so intensively while you followed his directions, rubbing against him forcefully. You were so wet your juices started to drip, wetting his pubic as well. You started to move faster, too close to your second climax. He helped you move with one hand, guiding your movements and murmuring praises and commands while you grunted, moaned and begged – nothing of it making any sense – while you chased your high. With the other hand, he played with your nipples, your head tilted back and your chest arched on his face, like you were offering yourself for him to take you as he wanted to.

“Look at me, I want you looking at me when I make you come again” he ordered and you – slightly pathetically, honestly – compiled immediately. Staring deeply into his eyes you came undone, your whole body shaking while he took over your movements, helping you ride out your orgasm as long as possible.

When you climbed off your high, he didn’t stop. On the contrary, he changed movements, making you bounce on him “Aaron… too much…” you pleaded with gritted teeth. “Oh yeah? Do you want me to stop?” he offered in a mocking tone, knowing damn well you didn’t. In response you just kept moving, bouncing on his thick dick with the help of his thrusting and his grip on your hips. He chuckled, evil “I knew it. Desperate for me, for my cock. You’re going to limp your way for your brand new job. What will your boss think of you?” he teased, despite his voice being just as hoarse as yours. The feeling of it all was so much – him hitting so deep in you was so strong, the sting on your legs from moving so much, and the knot forming in the pit of your stomach once again – that you couldn’t think straight, even if you wanted so badly to talk back.

You leaned forward, kissing him again. The new angle made him hit even deeper, making you both moan loudly with pleasure. Aaron pushed his legs up, his feet on the bed giving him more impulse to thrust into you harder into your cervix, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer.

He grabbed your face, pressing your mouth against his ears, in a silent plea for you to moan directly to him, not wanting to let any of the pretty sounds you made go to waste. With his other hand, he gripped the flash of your ass, pulling you tight against him, guiding your movements to sync with his, bouncing hardly on his dick.

“I’m close… S-So close…” you warned him, between moans and bites on his earlobe. “Fuck. Give it to me” he demanded, keeping up with his movements until he felt your thirst and strongest orgasms. You clenched around him so tight he wouldn’t be able to hold back his own climax even if he wanted to. You came together riding out your orgasms, relishing in each other’s sounds, trying as much as possible to extend the sensation.

Maybe if you weren’t so tired, you wouldn’t have slept together. Or woken up together, both of your alarms ringing at six am. Too little time slept, but – oh, so – worth it.

–

“Come on, Hotch is waiting.” Penelope Garcia, member of the BAU with whom you had talked during the bureaucratic part of your transfer, welcomed you at the lobby. You had small conversation on your way around the place, her warm and excited energy refreshing you after the few hours of rest “You’ll love him! Well, he’s going to be your boss so not love-love. I mean, I love-love him, but we work together for years. It’s more of a father and daughter love. Not that I see him as a father figure, I really don’t but.. I’m rambling. Oh, we’re here!” he said, squealing in excitement, while giving you a toothy grin. You couldn’t say you were as excited as she was, but it was impossible not to be at least a little bit happier after talking to her.

Penelope knocked on the door, looking back at you expectantly. 

“Come in” you heard a voice muffled by the door separating you. 

She opened it delicately, stepping in first and stopping by the door “Sir, she’s here.” “Oh, yes. Let her in.” he said, standing up and fixing his already perfectly suit.

When you stepped into his office, it was like the world stopped spinning. You felt like you were having a stroke, refusing to believe that your boss, A. Hotchner was the same Aaron from the night before. 

You slept with your boss.

He gave you three glorious orgasms the night before.

And another one the morning after – just a couple hours ago, if you will.

Un-fucking-believable.

Apparently he thought so too, since his look altered frantically between you, Penelope and the window that led to the bullpen, like this was just a sadic prank his team pulled on him. He called your full name in a questioning tone – just to make sure it wasn’t.

“Yes” you nodded, sounding much more steady than you were actually feeling. His movements faltered for half a second. Not too long that Penelope could pick up what was happening, but enough for you to realize he was just as surprised as you.

“Aaron Hotchner.” he stepped closer, firmly shaking your hand “Let’s get started?” 

It was going to be a long meeting.

pt 2 here

@stormyskies-writes with the amazing prompts!!

[baepsays]

I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN) ‧₊˚𓇢𓆸 ⸻ clan head Gojo

CHAPTER TWO: Lady Gojo

𓍯𓂃 pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

𓍯𓂃 description⋙ navigating a married life is hard enough, it is harder when you know nothing about your husband other than his heroic scars and dizzying smile.

𓆰𓆪 cw in this chapter⋙ canon divergence, NSFW, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, Gojo with scars, one sided conflict, one sided pining, eventually both sided pining, so much yearning, slow burn, in a sort of eccentric way ngl, suggestive stuff, they are both a little stupid about e/o, misogyny (not by Gojo), dysfunctional families, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, angst, some fluff, eventually fully, Mr. wife guy (non derogatory), condescending Gojo, this is quite an angsty chapter, lots of unhealed trauma, childhood abuse, physical abuse, mention of food, throwing up, riddled with insecurity, mention of death, blood, he is an idiot.

𓍯𓂃 a/n: art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. honestly i do not think this is as sad as i am making it to be, lol it could be worse. and maybe it will get worse idk? anyway hope you have fun reading <3

word count: 8.1k

SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

People usually have a lot of expectations about the first day after their wedding. Things like sleeping in, making breakfast together, and having sex. Or go on a honeymoon, where you have more sex, to somewhere more scenic. 

Unfortunately this was not a very usual marriage that you have stumbled upon. Being the lady of the Gojo clan was huge in and of itself, but when you are married to Gojo Satoru on top of that, the living enigma—it is hard to say if you can exist in the shadows anymore.

It was daunting, to say the least, being the center of everyone’s scrutiny and attention. Entirety of thirty six hours have gone by, with you becoming the new lady Gojo, standing beside Satoru, and trying not to get eclipsed by him. Which is a flawed expression of words when there stood the same amount of distance between you two, as the sun and the moon—you have spent some easier thirty six days in your life compared to these last thirty six hours.

Mere thirty six hours, and you have somehow driven your husband further away from you than the preexisting light years of difference between you two.

All you did was, do as you were told. And yet here you were. Somehow things just do not work out for you even when you do as instructed. Neither do they work out when you try to go against the grain.

There has always been a misfit piece of puzzle handed to you, and when you try to forcibly jam it in, everyone seems to get more mad at you. But what can you do with the hand of cards you were dealt with? You play them. But when those cards do not seem to win you anything, how late are you to back away from these games?

What are you to do when your husband calls you wrong for trying to live up to the expectations of the society, your gender, and your respective families? If only you truly knew the answers to all these questions, which are far bigger in the grand scheme of things, than your head could comprehend.

And now it is a lifetime of fumbling around, until you are yet again able to become translucent enough to be ignored for the rest of time. 

You predict that your penchant for wanderlust into the pits of anxiety at this huge table, expanding along with the stretch of the entire room, would be a common occurring theme. Especially with the lack of a husband opposite you on the dining table, and an absence of appetite for the array of delicious food in front of you. Far too much for you to finish by yourself, and far too precious to disappoint the chef; who came up to you and introduced himself to you with the sweetest most welcoming smile that you have been offered by someone in a while. 

“I hope you enjoy everything Gojo-san, Gojo-sama specially requested everything to be made to your liking. ” Was all he said before he disappeared back into the kitchen. 

So you did your best. To finish as much as you could, at the very least, to try a bite out of everything chef Suzuki prepared, especially for you, apparently with your husband’s special request.

Even though he, himself, was not available to eat a proper meal with you under his roof. He made sure the food was catered to your preference, he most likely got the intel from your mother or someone else, because there was barely anything you could swallow down your throat without almost regurgitating it. 

You have spent your life in the confines of your father’s estate trying to mold into a perfectly eligible lady for a clan head to wed off. And that required a very specific diet and taste. Which unfortunately you never really became fond of, nor did you get accustomed to. You distinctly remember how as a child when you threw a tantrum at the dining table, for not wanting to eat the same soup you were chugging down currently, you were left to starve the entire night instead.

The lashes of thin bamboo leaving red marks all over your arms, were still fresh in your memories. And when the sweet grandma who did your laundry, and her grandson, sneaked in some packaged chips for you—you remember how hard you cried for two days and fell ill, not because of the lashes you got as punishment, but because your one and only childhood friend, and his grandmother, the elderly lady who actually treated you like a child, were dismissed and driven out of your clan's estate without a single thought. 

You do not want to repeat those mistakes again. One wrong move by you could have someone pay for it with their entire livelihood. Who knows if Gojo Satoru will even spare the chef his life. You have heard how much of a cruel man he is behind his suave facade, and you did not want to unmask that.

But how sure were you that the mask was not already being chipped away at? After the events of last night and this morning, you were not sure about your position in this game, what move to make next. Everything you know about the rules; the rights and wrongs, were all backfiring. 

So the wisest thing to do here, is to sit pretty and do as you are told.

The first seven days after the wedding were monotonous to say the least, and somber to say the most. The tour of the estate took about almost three days, and even then you could only explore the entirety of the right wing’s ground floor and some parts in the center, leaving behind at least more than sixty percent of the property unexplored. And you were left too tired and too overwhelmed to finish the rest of it. So you simply told the ladies appointed to show you around, that,

‘I have a lifetime to familiarize myself with the entirety of it.’

Sure the nervous chuckle you gave them before turning on your feet and heading towards the opposite direction, seemed innocent and endearing enough for them to spread the word—that how happy their madame is to be here! 

But the truth couldn't be further from that. 

To simply put it, it was too frightening. And it felt like you were crossing some sort of imaginary boundary. In these last three days, you've been confined to the right side, and some partial space in the center of the building. And it felt like that's all you've been permitted access to, because that's how it has always been. In fact this was more than what you've been brought up with. Sure, your parental home isn't as vast and huge as your husband's, but even then it was huge in size compared to what you think most normal houses are. And you've only been able to walk through only some of the halls of the place which was meant to be your home.

For a place which you wanted to call your home, it sure never felt like it. Whenever you wandered anywhere other than the library you cherished, your own room, and the gardens, and some other sitting rooms; you were given stern punishments. Eventually the unknown nooks and crannies of your own house became not worth the stinging red lines on the palm of your hands, or the little amount of food that was served to your room.

So naturally, when Satoru carried you in through the main entrance, and walked through the halls to get to your room, you associated that selected path, and area as your newfound boundary. Even the stairs leading to the second story of the mansion was too forbidden of sorts, for you to walk up to.

So part of the reason why you are yet to tour the entire estate was this, and the other part was that you were not ready to stumble into your husband in these halls. 

Even if it's your shared property, it's not your home. It's his, it's all his. And how dare you step a foot on something of his without proper permission? You should just be thankful enough to have been given so much, and it'd just be too greedy to ask for more.

So you left your husband to himself, and left him alone with some of the center, the left wing of the mansion, and the entirety of the first floor. In exchange, you gave yourself solace in the gardens surrounding the mansion, and the woods beyond it. So you couldn't dare to step over that line.

Except, maybe, the library. 

Books have always been a lovely companion to you, when much of your own words didn't mean anything. So you appreciated all the books scattered across all the shelves in the rooms you did not hesitate to step into. But you wanted to allow yourself some audacity to look for the actual library. The thought of its sheer size and capacity to hold hundreds and thousands of centuries old books, made you want to step over that imaginary line you drew for yourself. 

But then, you also have other things to distract you from giving into your desires.

The practice of acclimating with your duties as the now lady of the estate, was much easier than receiving the never ending messages of congratulations, or fighting the urges to cross over the unspoken boundaries that you drew out yourself. It was not as burdensome as you feared it would be, but nonetheless, the duties of the wife of the Gojo Satoru, was sure not easy. 

The first few days were spent in awe of everything, even though you were not from someone’s blood lacking in any affluence; but your new residence, surname, and—the living legend of sorts—husband were scintillating to a blinding degree. And any apparent distant giggling teases of a feet sweeping honeymoon, envisioned by the ladies at your reception—was not happening, to their utter dismay.  

Yet still you have come to enjoy the mundane tasks. Waking up to an empty bed for a straight week, since your first night with your husband, is compensated for by your ladies in waiting, namely, Mia and Suki . Both of their lively fuss in the morning over dressing you up feels more rejuvenating than any cup of coffee.

It makes you want to look forward to the mornings when you go to bed waiting for Satoru, only for him to slip under the sheets after he has been reassured by the maids that you are deep in slumber. So then he could walk into your room, as discreetly as possible, and get ready to slip under the same sheets as you.

To then only stare at how your eyelashes fall on your cheeks, the curve of your cupid’s bow, the bridge of your nose, and the blemishes on your skin, until he falls asleep himself—to then wake up before you, leaving his side of the bed cold and empty, and so neatly cleaned up. That it looks untouched.

Meeting Ichiji after breakfast, to go over Satoru’s schedule, before your husband’s departure to work, feels much more inviting than having breakfast at an empty table with your husband’s absence. 

Discussing breakfast the previous night with chef Suzuki, lunch for yourself and the staff at the estate—as well as discussing what should be packed and sent for the lord of the estate’s lunch. Looking over the needs of each staff member, catering to their meal requirements etc. it was quite a hard job, when done genuinely, but it made you feel closer to each and every member of your new family. 

Understanding the accounts of the estate expenditure, making notes of days when the staff are to be paid, fulfilling their requests, corresponding with other clan members etc. surprisingly kept you busy, as you did your best to remain accurate in your calculations. Because these were to then Bypass Satoru's finals checking.

It was a matter of concern for you before, how you will be spending your time usefully, rather than just sitting idly in a pretty attire. Before, you used to spend your days teaching destitute children, until your parents deemed your career as a good pastime that went on long enough, and eventually it was just that you were to focus on your overdue duties—marriage.

And just like that, that little freedom was also snatched away even after much groveling to your parents. So you presumed as much, it was going to be absurd to even ask your husband to continue that vocation—after all if the people of your own blood can confine you within a boundary before wedding you off on your merry way, like some livestock they raised to be butchered—then expecting anything more from a husband of a week and mere convenience, was out of the question.

The hardest possible job was calling your husband during a particular time of the day, to enquire about his preference for each day's dinner. When he would be on his break, you'd call him, but not at a time when he was actually free enough to pick up his phone immediately. But just busy enough to not be actually able to pick up the phone himself.

It took you some time to perfect the right timing. It is exactly two and a half rings, before you could hang up the phone without any guilt. It was long enough that it showed, ‘oh yes she really called.’, but not long enough for your husband to actually pick up the phone and converse with you. Of course it was silly. Why would you call him if you did not even mean to speak to him?

Because that was not the purpose of the call. It was almost another formality. And how dare you ruin all the efforts he has been putting into to ignore you, for an entire week at that? Of course it was nothing enraging enough to make you do petty things, because this was not petty! You just either really wanted to respect his wishes, or that you were too scared to start another conversation with him. And maybe the answer could be an amalgamation of all the aforementioned reasons.

It seems that you would rather go to far fetched lengths than speak to your own husband directly about what he would like for the kitchen to prepare for dinner. Instead, it was easier to call Ichiji with the excuse that Satoru did not pick up, to then have him ask and relay back what should be prepared for dinner.

It was not that it was imperative for you to ask Satoru such tedious things, you were not even sure how this whole thing started. The very first day after you two were wed, and later in the morning when he walked out on you after calling you wrong for trying to abide by your wifely duties, the kitchen asked for your opinion for dinner. And after that nauseating breakfast experience, you did not have the mind to think about food, so you skipped lunch, and so did Satoru, without you at the table he simply dismissed everyone to their own vices and returned to his hiding. You wanted to respect their wishes and give them an answer, but you also did not really have anything on your mind. 

Naturally, you told them to just ask Satoru, but since apparently your husband already locked himself in his office in the very opposite end of the estate from you, and had some important people over to congratulate him, no one was brave enough to disrupt him.

But something told them it was acceptable for you to intervene.

“How- how am I supposed to ask him? I, I do not think I should.” You spoke loud enough for the staff to hear, but it was mostly for yourself to hear those words, and know your place. 

“We truly think Gojo-sama would not mind if you went in, madam. Well, if you are still so hesitant, why not just call him?” Chef Suzuki suggested for the others to nod along with him. And you did not have the heart to tell them the already sour nature of your relationship with their lord. So you sat down in the nearest sitting room, if you can even call such a massive room, just that. The Gojo estate expanded through truly acres and acres of land, so there were plenty of rooms with the most comfortable couches and chairs, and plenty more telephone to communicate with people in the other areas of the estate.

One ring. Two rings. Two and a half rings. Three rings-

“Hello.” 

Oh he picked up. And oh, his voice sounded different. Different from how he speaks with you. It sounded more authoritative. More rough, more distant. 

And here you thought only you were subjugated to his apathy and ignorance.

“Hello?” Oh right, you answer someone when they pick up the phone, right.

“Um- hello.” All sound on his end halted. Or maybe it felt like that to him. 

“I- I just, I mean- the chef wanted to ask- what would you like for dinner?” Goodness, when did you get so bad at conversing over the phone?

There was a long awkward pause after that question. You were fully expecting him to just scoff at your audacity to even think you could call him to ask such things, and hang up on you. You were expecting dinner to be cancelled altogether. And after skipping lunch, and throwing up everything you had for breakfast, you couldn't afford that.

“Please let the chef know that I'll have whatever you'd like.” His voice sounded softer than how he previously spoke, or maybe it was just that he was trying to not shout at you in front of his guests. Either way, you were grateful. That he did not prolong this call with names of illegible culinary words you could not relay back, and get deemed unsophisticated.

“Alright. Please be at the table by the time it is served.” You did not expect him to have dinner with you. But you still asked, maybe there was some pleading in your voice as well. Or maybe you just did not want to eat alone. 

“Of course, sweetheart. And I'm sorry about this morning.” 

Oh? 

Oh!

He says sorry? The head of the Gojo clan says sorry, to his wife? In front of other people of authority? You've had some wild and confusing interactions with this man since you married him not even barely twenty four hours ago, and this was probably the wildest interaction you've had with a man in your life. A man with such power at that. And you could not, or maybe you did not know how to answer him. So you did the next worst thing to stutter an ok, you hung up on him. 

Everyone around you giggled and smiled discreetly, as you scrambled away to the kitchen, offering not needed, but appreciated, help to chef Suzuki. 

And when dinner time came, you started setting up that huge table by yourself, dismissing everyone to eat their own meals. Not expecting a husband to accompany you for the meal, you busied yourself with the cutlery and fine china, when a looming figure leaned on the door frame to observe you from a far.

It seems as though Gojo Satoru has developed a weird pension for staring at his wife from afar.

And he has also developed the knack for scaring her by silently coming up to her from behind without any warning. He liked that you shriek and jump when you realize you're not just by yourself anymore. He likes to think that one day you'll jump in joy rather than surprise to see him walk in without any warning.

So you both silently sat yourselves down at the very opposite ends of the dining table, both at the head of each end, and silently ate your dinner. Which was much easier to chow down than the breakfast you had earlier. Which thankfully did not upset your stomach too bad. You did not exchange words, just silently stole glances, and when your eyes would land on his eyes, which would be already trained on you more than half of the time—you’d scurry to finish your meal before him and leave him at an empty table. 

Reap what you sow. 

Now that is how this entire calling Satoru—or Ichiji to be more exact—thing started. Everyday since then you've never failed to call him, and hung up after that almost third ring, to not allow him the chance to respond; to then ask him through Ichiji, what he'd like for dinner. For lunch, If he was at his home office, he'd eat there. And if he was not home, his lunch would be packed and delivered.

Some sorry it was. Given as a formality, and taken not seriously.

The chef, or the staff, or the ladies appointed to you, never clarified that you did not have to do this entire thing, calling him everyday to just ask about dinner. This was not part of the duties assigned to you, and the kitchen has always cycled through a set of preparation their lord preferred, and it was already an established, much easier, routine. But no one tried to object to the new everyday routine. 

Especially when Satoru himself did not mind the new routine. Sure, he'd much appreciate you asking him directly, but he'd have the short end of the bargain either way.

And everyday it was more than enough entertainment for all of them to see their madame struggle to address their master. Satoru was never truly involved in such tasks, much of the responsibilities you take care of now used to fall on poor Ichiji’s shoulders, so the change of pace was much appreciated by everyone. After all, he was too busy being the strongest weapon in jujutsu history to look after everything himself. 

So somewhere everyone, including your husband, found your insistence to note down his opinions over such trivial things, too endearing to enlighten you. Though this routine of calls have become quite complicated over the past week. And so you have developed a habit of having lunch with the chef and kitchen staff.

On rare, yet day by day more frequent occasions, like today, instead of the kitchen staff, you would be sitting opposite your husband over lunch.

It was not often you sat down in a room with Satoru without any reason, in fact you can count on one hand how many times you have done that. So waiting for lunch to be served on a comically large dining table, sitting on the very opposite end from him, was new everytime. It was awkward enough to share any meal other than the scheduled dinner with him, that too he always left much earlier than you, thankfully. 

Who knows what it was? Was it his engulfing cologne clogging your nose, disabling you from smelling the food served in front of you. Or simply the annoyingly perfect sight of him, so casually eating like it was the most natural thing to do—while you sat there, a nervous wreck. But regardless, you did not seem to have any appetite. Which was apparent enough for everyone, including Satoru to notice that across from the table.

“Is there anything on your plate that you don’t like? I can ask the chef to make you something else.” There was, as if, a genuine concern in his voice. For you, that was simply weird.

“Oh. No, I am fine. I just had a snack earlier.” The poorly told lie was not one to pass Gojo Satoru or his six eyes. But for you he was willing to make an excuse. 

“Is that so? I think I am done as well.” It was a risky tactic he was employing, trying to bait you with guilt was low even for him. 

“But you’ve barely started!?” “And you barely had any breakfast. I am more than sure if I asked anyone here what fulfilling snack you had, the answer would be underwhelming.” How would he even know what you did or not have for breakfast when he was not even there to begin with?

For a few seconds he sat there assessing if he had pissed you off again. As invigorating as it is to mildly anger you, he would not have that at the cost of your meal. To his relief without any more protest you went back to your plate to take a proper mouthful bite.

If anyone tested Satoru’s patience as you did, as well as avoided him as skillfully as you have; it would have ended up not as kindly as it has been with you. He has been trying to give you space, to let you breathe, and foster a home for yourself, in his house. Unfortunately in those attempts he has made you feel neglected and ignored instead, for someone so perceptive, he sure is clueless.

Because when he tried to give you that space, after that poorly said sorry, he thought by extension it was part of the apology. Which mistranslated to you, as some formality and ignorance. When he was merely trying to make you feel more comfortable, and holding himself back from stepping over any more land mines. 

Those said land mines are simply just his unfathomably and rapidly growing feelings for you. His concerns, and worries about your wellbeing. And just thoughts of you randomly hijacking his mind. It takes Suguru one too many times a day to nudge his head, to bring him out of some sort of trance that he goes into when you come into his mind. 

But after the first week, he has found himself to enjoy invading your space rather than trying to give you space. It made him ecstatic to hear your voice panic a little when from time to time he would pick up your routinely strategic calls instead of missing them. He does think, even you have to admit for yourself, that two and a half rings are far too few before hanging up on someone. Also he did not appreciate Ichiji asking him what he would like for dinner, instead of you. You made this new habit, you must be the one to ask as well. 

“What would you like for the chef to prepare tonight?” 

“Hmm?” he looked a little dumbfounded at your sudden question, was it not enough you were infiltrating his mind and now you are reading his thoughts as well? Upon acclimating with the situation, he sees his own and your empty plates. Guess he finished his meal while he was too busy thinking of, again, you. 

“I mean, what do you want for dinner?” you ask once again, in hopes of a more clear answer. But god forbid your husband ever gave you a desirable answer to your questions. 

“You.”

If someone wanted to learn how to kill someone with a single word, it should be recorded how this exchange happened. The food in your mouth choked in your throat, it had your husband sprint from his own seat to your end of the table, to pat you on the back and hand you a glass of water. After a few minutes and some water later, the food went down the pipe, but the word did not.

“Goodness, I was only joking, sweets.” 

He was in fact, not joking.

“Y-you were?” He nodded a very convincing yes, trying not to scare off his already spooked wife. 

“It was a very poor attempt at a joke. But I appreciate the effort.” You ended your sentence with a smile that subconsciously made its way to your lips. He does not remember when was the last time you smiled at him, or, for him.

And he chuckled at your honesty. He found it so refreshing and interesting. It is not that no one has ever told him how bad his jokes were, or worse when people laugh at his jokes merely outbid fear. He knows his humor was not to everyone's taste. But he liked that you did not just put him down, maybe out of your still very scared view of him, or maybe out of sympathy. But he appreciated the change of pace where his friends would just shit on him for such jokes, or when people would laugh too loud and too obviously out of fear.

But then again, he was just trying to mask truth with humor. 

Which has been a staple for him. The truth is as plain as he said it, he wants you. He wants you carnally maybe, he wants to eat you up. He wants you to chew him up like a gum and spit him out at your convenience. 

But more than that, Satoru thinks he also wants you beyond bodily, physical needs. He does not think he even thought about touching you since your first meeting, until he actually touched your skin that night. He saw you in that room, sitting behind that cedar wood table, looking smaller than everyone in that room, despite your status. And he thought—’Great. A meek little mouse instead of a bride.’

But when you actually answered his teasing, and honestly, patronizing question instead of timidly bowing your head in respect, like he expected you to—he saw a dwindling spark in your eyes in that moment, instead of fear and vast pit of emptiness, that he first saw in them when he opened those doors.

And he knew even if there was someone more capable to stand beside him, maybe he would rather stand with you. 

He cannot still exactly pinpoint what it is that he craved from you, or if it's just that he simply craves you, but he wants more. He wants more of you, more from you. He wants you just simply to exist around him. Your skin sent waves of heat through his skin when he touched it, it was burning hot compared to his own cold body, you felt so warm and so alive in that moment, and he simply wants more.

He does not think he loves you. Yet. At the very least. He does not think he fell in love with you just as he laid his eyes on you that day, maybe he pities you that much. Maybe it is just like adopting a frail kitten stuck in a storm and giving her a shelter to thrive in. He has thought about that. But he came to the conclusion that he is done playing some hero. 

The world has had enough of Gojo Satoru—the strongest, the saviour, and the weapon.

He simply wants to exist, as he wants to exist for someone. He does not want to sacrifice anymore. For once he wants to be selfish. He wants to selfishly live on, and live with someone. And he has chosen that someone to be you. 

And if you were just some sympathy case, he doesn't think he would've felt such feelings for you. He truly needs you, more than he wants you. He needs you to want him, he needs you to look at him with the same eyes as you did when you told him off for being late, or when you looked him up through those blurry pupils while being pinned under him. 

He truly, earnestly, needs to have you. Most romantically, spiritually, and disrespectfully.

He would rather have you on this table than the spread of a very well prepared meal. But those aren't thoughts that can be easily dumped on his wife, who has schemed up tactful ways to avoid even hearing his voice through the phone.

“Just ask them to prepare what you'd like.” He smiled reassuringly before picking up your plate, as well as his, so quickly, even beating the staff and you to it—and headed straight to the kitchen sink.

To maybe drown himself in the sink after putting away the dirty plates.

It is truly magnificent, how wonderful the garden looks at night. 

How the koi pond dims down at night, and the stones and the sand become cold with the dropping temperature. The pine trees rustled and threw their needles all over the ground, as if to deter the sharp wind, to protect their garden from its sharp claws. And it seems like an entire play is happening right outside of your windows. 

But you have been more interested in what goes on behind that battle ground. In the little grove of trees, and wild flowers, where the wind seems more forgiving, and the trees feel more comforting. 

And it feels like an entirely new world beyond the bridge over the stream, that connects to the lake nestled in the trees. And you've come to find a safety net in that new world of yours. 

Particularly sitting down on one of those benches under the cherry blossom trees by the said lake, the one near the bridge seems too out of your reach, so you always opt for the one across it—the only reason why is because your husband seems to like that bench for himself.

Though it takes a bit of a walk from your room on the right side, or even the left wing of the mansion, to go over the only bridge that crosses the stream, which lies as a boundary between the tidy gardens and the unbridled woods—it was easily accessible from the center. 

After the first time you did dare to cross that bridge, you did not think of crossing it again. Maybe because you were too busy waiting for your husband to return to bed, or afraid of interrupting Satoru. Either way, you tried your best to not cross that bridge.

The second time you went there, was when you saw Satoru crossing that bridge around twelve AM, when you were just sprawled on the couch in that particular drawing room that looked over the bridge. Not ready to retire to that huge bed by yourself, you followed him there.

And all he did was sit on the bench under the cherry blossom tree, which stood by the lake around twenty five steps away from the bridge. 

You did not dare to disturb him, he looked so calm, and at peace. For once, from what you could make out from behind the huge and unkempt hydrangea bushes, his eyes did not look pained. 

It is that people often saw Gojo Satoru only with his blindfold on, but you mostly ever saw him without it. So you honestly felt like he was punishing you when he started wearing them around you more often since the first time you two had dinner together. You hadn't seen him for the entirety of that day, the entire morning you spent hunched over the toilet, and the evening you spent by replaying the conversation you had with him over the phone. 

‘I’m sorry.’

Is what he said. And you thought, maybe it was just a fluke, what happened that morning. Things will get better. Then to only be greeted with a husband across that long table, with a blindfold covering half of his face. And it felt more punishing than being told that you were wrong.

But from what you made out of what you have seen of his eyes, and those half empty smiles and smirks he threw your way—he was pained. It hurt him, to simply see you, just to be around you. The only place where he roamed around so freely without those obstructions in front of his eyes, for his own good, was his home—and now you've taken that away from him as well.

So then you started to ignore him. After waiting for him in that huge bed, that huge table, those huge rooms—you gave up easily. As easily as he threw a half assed apology for you to latch onto some false hope. You avoided walking into him. You avoided trying to stay up for him, or starving yourself, you avoided his voice, and but you still tried to get a peek of his hidden eyes.

Until you couldn't help but follow him into these woods. And so you sat there looking at him, creeping in the shadows, while the lake’s water reflected beams of light on his face, and made his blue eyes shine a different shade of blue than what it usually reflects. And the scars that dug themselves on his skin, looked deeper than what they usually did. It looked like he was freshly wounded, and the most vulnerable, he could allow himself to be.

You waited there until he got up from his seat and disappeared into the thin air. 

And that's how your own routine started. You waited until twelve AM to see if Satoru went into the woods, and waited for about an hour and a half more to check if the lights in your room were turned on from under the door. To then sneak into the woods. Some days he'd be gone, other days he'd still be under that cherry blossom tree.

And if he was not there, you'd make your own way to take a seat under the cherry blossom tree across the lake, other times you'd wait for him to disappear from behind those hydrangea bushes.

Today was one of those days.

You waited, and waited, until it seemed like he had teleported back to your bedroom, to make your way to the bench on the other side. And when you made it there, you found it out to be occupied by your husband himself. So you did what you could do, in a state of panic, you tried your best to silently turn around and walk away without rumbling the bushes or rustling the grass under your feet. To make your escape.

“You're leaving already?” His voice came out smooth and steady as ever. And you stopped in your tracks with your back to his back.

“Come here, sit down.” He simply said, without as much as even turning around from where he sat. 

And you could not help but obey. If it was possible, you'd run, run so fast and quick that even his techniques would not be able to track you down. But that is just a delusional imagination.

“I won't repeat.” He said in a heavier tone, but it didn't sound commanding, it was playful if anything. Light and breezy, but sharp. Sharp enough that if you tried to avoid it, it'd cut right through. So despite yourself, you walked over to the bench you've come to love so dearly over the course of the last few weeks, and sat down on the very edge of it. As far away from him as you possibly could sit.

But Satoru couldn't allow that.

It took him a second to lift his left hand off his lap, to lean slightly to your side and drag you towards him by your waist. The ring you put on him the day you married you, shined in the darkness with his swift movements. 

And just like that, you were sitting side by side with your husband. Your bare arm touched the soft fabric of the sleeves on his t-shirt, and the rigid muscles under them pushed into your own arm. His left arm loosened around your back, but his hand remained steady and static on your waist. And your lungs stopped working.

“Need help with breathing also?” It was only his taunting tone that gave your lungs the air needed to not pass out then and there. 

You did not answer him. You did not wish to entertain him. You've entertained him enough by thinking you could get away with trying to sneak past his eyes, when he had his sight on you from the beginning, all six of them. And yet again you felt like a defeated fool against him.

“You- come here often?” The suppressed giggle in his throat almost spilled over with each word uttered.

“Don’t ask questions that you already know the answers to.” You looked away from him, to face the lake, and the ripples in the water. It's as if even the lake was coming down with a second hand embarrassment, looking at how chaotically it's water started moving.

“Alrightttt, alright. I'll stop.” With a last few giggles, he looked away from your face, and focused his covered eyes on the same cherry blossom tree you were eyeing. The one he usually sits under, looked completely different from the other side. 

“I wish they'd bloom soon.” He spoke out loud, it sounded like a passing thought that spilled out unintentionally.

“Do you like cherry blossoms?” You turned your face towards him, his face however, did not turn.

“No. Not really.” “Really?”

“Why? Couldn't you tell that by just looking at me?” he smiled a big toothy grin. That stretched across his face, but even with the blindfold on, you could tell it didn't reach his eyes.

“No. I couldn't. Especially with that thing covering half of your face.” You sure were feeling brave today. Maybe it was the darkness of the night, or the secrecy in the woods, or just the embarrassment of how you ended up here. But words just seemed to flow out of your mouth instead of getting stuck in your throat.

He finally looked towards you, and cranked his neck to look down at your eyes, looking up at him. And he could tell that you knew. That you knew even with his blindfold between your eyes and his, whether he was lying or not. So why bother with it at all right? 

He brought his right hand up to his face, to hook his index and middle finger under his blindfold, and dragged it down on his neck.“I don't think I enjoy how quickly they wither away. But I like how they look when they fall. Unihibited and free.” 

He looked back over towards the lake. With his eyes free to shine under the moonlight. And there it was, the pain. 

“Is that why you have been avoiding me?” you blurted out with furrowed eyebrows and determined eyes.

“I've been- what? Because of the cherry blossoms?” His head whipped towards you as fast as it could without snapping his neck, his left hand tightened around you, and he looked confused.

“No. Because you look like you are in pain whenever you're around me.” Your throat was starting to tighten up.

Suddenly you felt like crying. In fact, your eyes started to well up after every passing moment from when you said your thoughts out loud. This is weird. You don't cry. You never cry. It's been years since you cried. Why are you crying? Is he going to reprimand you for that? 

Well, you can't wait here on this bench to find that out. So you haphazardly pulled yourself out of his arms, and made your way back to the mansion. 

You couldn't even make it past the fifth step, when Satoru dragged you back towards him. He was still sitting on that bench, except now you stood there between him and the cherry blossom tree, in between his legs. Once again, stuck. His chin rested itself on your stomach, as it fluttered away, his eyes looked so soft and his face looked like it wanted to be caressed. Both of his hands ended up on either side of your hips, as if his legs weren't enough to keep you captured. Even when your protests didn't match his strength.

He patiently waited like that until you stopped protesting, and just looked down at his face, still resting on your stomach, looking up at you, and you gave in trying to shove him off of you by his shoulders. Instead you just let them rest there.

“Would you like to elaborate? Pleaseee?” If you told anyone that Gojo Satoru was whining to you right now, they'd call you insane. And maybe that's what's happening to you.

“No.” You are becoming insane.

“Please.” Other than his many ancient and sought after techniques, his most lethal weapon was his pout. So how could you resist those quivering billowy lips?

“I- You just-”, you stuttered trying to answer him, thinking whether or not you could get away with some excuse or straight up lies. But of course you cannot. He truly is too dangerous.

“You just, always- you look as if you're in so much pain when you're around me.” You sighed, finally voicing it out loud, “Isn’t that why you started wearing these around the house, around me?” You passingly pulled on the blindfold hanging on his neck, to make a point.

Yet again, he was left speechless. It's as if you deploy all his devices useless. You render him to nothing. 

How was he supposed to answer you?

That yes, yes you pain him. Your presence simply has become so enthralling that it physically hurts him to hold himself back. To not cross lines he might not be able to come back from. That your claws are creeping deeper in his chest, and he is doing nothing to stop that bleeding.

He has bled to death on a battlefield twice, with no regrets on his mind. But if you were the one to sever him to death—he would gladly take it. And he'd regret that why couldn't he die at your hands an infinite amount of times more. This time around he'd be truly unhappy to leave behind the mortal realm. Because it’d mean leaving you behind with it.

He could not do that. He cannot survive, he simply cannot do anything against you. 

And that pains him. Aches him really, to be this close and yet so far away from you. 

He hates to make you feel avoided, and neglected, but what is he to do when he doesn't have any control over his thoughts and actions when he's around you? 

When your scent simply travels with the wind when you sneak into the woods trying to not alert him, his chest starts tightening up. Your clogged up loose hair in the shower runs a shiver down his spine. When you chew the food on your plate across from him, he wants to leap over the table and pull you into a kiss.

He wants to be the one to show you around the entire estate, and pull you into random little corners and halls, to kiss you helplessly, hidden away from some passing eyes. He wants to be the one to show you the library because he heard from a helper at parent's house that is where you spent most of your days, he wants to buy you all the books you have ever wanted and will ever want. 

He'd like to hold you and lull you to sleep, and dig his face in your chest, and just fall asleep listening to your heart beat—to feel your blood flow under his touch, and your skin warm up against him.

And it truly hurts him. It hurts to know you've never known a home. 

So he wants to give you that. He wants to hand you all the control over him, and have you pull all the strings from here onwards. He wants you to know that everything to his name is yours, even his name is yours, his mere existence is all yours. Because he wants to give it all up to you.

So it hurts him. It hurts to know that you don't know that.

“I'll take your silence as confirmation then.” His grasp on you easily broke off, maybe he was in a trance again, or maybe it was just the power you already held over him. But to you he was simply found guilty of the accusations that you made. And with no sense of justice, you walked away from him. 

And he did not protest. 

Because maybe it's too fast. It's too quick. To feel what he is feeling. How was he going to ever even verbalize these things to you? And not sound crazy? Let alone give you a satisfying explanation.

It has been barely a month since he has married you, barely two months since he's known you. Wouldn't it be too sudden to go from essentially neglecting you, to professing his vow of devotion to you?

But it's just that suddenly, Gojo Satoru realized then and there, how deep he is. That there were no excuses left to make. That perhaps it was too sudden, too quick, just as quick as cherry blossoms blooming and withering away in spring—maybe he is falling for you.

No. Scratch that. It's idiotic to even question this at this point. He has uninhibitedly and freely, fallen for you.

NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

divider by @/omi-resources. header is from, and watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.

thank you to indie @indiewritesxoxo beloved for proof reading pre edit <3 wouldn't be out today otherwise

i do not think it was that bad, was it? also i am just calling him husband and blah blah by his titles a lot. which if you find annoying womp womp because i am using that as part of the narration, like she will slowly start to see him more than that. and again it is slow burn, so sit with it. i am making bro so emotionally constipated muahahahaha he is gonna be rambling about sighhhh she is so sighhhhh and then be like hmm not like i love her or anything yk. he is just like me frfr

tag list (1): @cheralith @slayzzz @madamechrissy @gojosperms @gojoao @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @tabalugax @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thetiredcollegestudent @tokyolhtl @emochosoluvr @moncher-ire @hyunjinspdf @younjunie @em0cleo @novaisbebita @hisarmsaremycocoon @wise-fangirl @sheep-infog @arrozyfrijoles23 @ppejmurde @miizuzu @ricecake-mochi @tushkiiiiiii @ovela @69-gojos-wife-69 @lxxnour @mereniss @theorphicangel @gojosconsort @soupicidesquad +

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[street-smarts00]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa. 

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present. 

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer. 

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true. 

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present. 

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas. 

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked. 

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully. 

“Are you at least winning?” 

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.” 

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift. 

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work. 

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts. 

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ. 

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief. 

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her. 

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition. 

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you. 

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box. 

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely. 

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out. 

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile. 

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face. 

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold. 

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots. 

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.” 

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia. 

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless. 

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face. 

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick. 

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan. 

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you. 

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved. 

Not that he had to know you loved him. 

He didn’t know that. Right? 

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin. 

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky. 

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind. 

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained. 

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.” 

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?” 

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“ 

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured. 

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift. 

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.  

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?” 

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles. 

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief. 

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.” 

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.” 

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.” 

Your heart damn near stopped. 

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness. 

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?” 

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.” 

God he was cute. 

“That sounds great.”