#Dresser Jobs in General Hospital

[xomakara]

Physical Therapy

SUMMARY |  Haechan sprained his ankle and is staying at the hospital. Being very horny and needy, he asks his pretty nurse for special treatment… PAIRINGS | Haechan/Fem!Reader GENRE |  smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, public sex, nurse/patient RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  2,366 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Fuck, why do I have so many one-shots saved in my computer? Anywho, I hope you enjoy :)

Part 2 here

“Haechan, you are an idiot.”

“…Shut up.”

“I can’t believe you sprained it.”

“…I said shut up.”

“You are such an attention whore. Now you have to stay in the hospital. How does it feel?”

“Guys! Will you shut up! Geez, it’s not my fault!” Haechan yelled at his friends. Leave it to Haechan to sprain his ankle before tonight’s party.

“Actually it is. You’re the one who wanted to impress that pretty girl.” Renjun said, raising both his brows at him. All because he wanted to show off his dance moves. Which really didn't make sense, since Haechan was a great dancer.

"I thought you were trying to impress that girl?" Chenle asked Renjun as he passed some soup to Haechan. “Weren’t you trying to serenade her in Chinese?”

"What are you talking about?" Renjun rolled his eyes, the others laughing. “I did no such thing.”

"How in the world could you sprain your ankle?!" Mark questioned, fussing over the younger man. "Dude."

"Should I keep you company?" Jisung asked.

“Good news is that my cousin is coming over to visit later! I'll bring you some of her homemade food later, since I know you all love her cooking. Have fun at the hospital.” Jaemin said happily, waving at Haechan before walking with the rest of his friends out of the hospital room.

Haechan gave them a surprise look. “Wait, you guys are going to leave me?!”

“….yes?” Jeno said, not sure if that question was a trick or not.

"We'll visit you tommorow, Haechan." Renjun nodded, reassuring him.

Haechan grumbled and glared at them. He crossed his arms. “Fine, leave me. Some friends you guys are. Can't believe you would leave.”

"Ahw, you'll be fine Haechan." Mark chuckled, patting him on the head. “Some of the nurses here are really pretty, you know?”

“We’ll tell them to take good care of you!” Jeno called out.

"Yeah, you'll be fine!" Jisung exclaimed.

"Recover fast! Haechannie fighting!" Jaemin pumped his fist in a victory pose.

Chenle waved and gave him a small smile. “Bye Haechan! Have fun at the hospital!”

"Guyssss!" Haechan whined, hoping that one of his friends would at least stay with him.

Haechan sighed once his friends left. Now who was going to give him the attention he needed? It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to show off his nice, smooth moves to that pretty girl. He wanted to get a chance to maybe…score something tonight.

Damn it.

There goes his chance of fucking a pretty girl.

He started to watch some TV. The hospital wasn’t that bad since he had a room to himself. The door opened again, and a very pretty woman entered his room. She was wearing a nurse outfit, showing off her generous cleavage. 

She gave him a cute smile.

“Hi there, I'm Na Y/N. I’ll be your nurse for tonight. If you need anything, just press the button.” You said, pointing at the button that was on the dresser. 

Haechan looked at you up and down before giving you a smirk. 

Oh yeah, he definitely loved the hospital now.

“Y/N, huh? Wait… Are you Na Jaemin’s cousin?” He asked, his eyes wide. “You’re the cousin that cooks all those delicious food for Jaemin, huh?”

“Oh, you know Jaemin?” You asked him.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Haechan nodded. “I’m Haechan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! The one with the sweet yet unique voice whenever he sings? It’s nice to finally put a face to a name.” You smiled at him. “Was Jaemin here to see you earlier? I just started my shift but a few of the other nurses said they saw a group of very good looking men leave your room.”

“Yep, they left not too long ago.” Haechan replied. “I didn’t know you were a nurse.”

“I normally keep my job a secret.” You chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They don’t believe I’m a nurse because of my looks.”

Which was often true. People always thought you’de be too dumb to be a nurse. That your face and body could pass more for a model.

You didn’t know how or why, but after fighting with the other nurses, you won. The prize was to take care of the handsome young man in Room 127.

“Really now? That must be tough.” Haechan raised his eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be in good hands with you.”

“I’ll get you all taken care of.” You smiled as you turned around, your back facing him. “If you need anything Haechan-ssi, just let me know.”

Haechan watched your ass until it disappeared out the door. Yeah, he was going to have fun.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Minhee, your fellow nurse, friend and roommate asked, grabbing an apple from her plate before taking a big bite of it. It was lunchtime, and you were sitting on the table, your face lying on top of it.

“It’s Haechan! He’s such an... ugh! He won’t stop calling me. He’s getting on my nerves.” You were tired and hungry. 

It has been four hours since Haechan came, and you were tired as hell because of him. He made ridiculous requests. 'Oh nurse, can you help me change the channel? Oh nurse, where is the bathroom? Blah blah blah.' 

You were sick of it.

Minhee gave you a sympathetic look. 

Poor you. 

But she didn’t want to take care of Haechan. Plus you did win that bet. You said were going to cockblock her if she ever brought a man home. 

Hell no. 

Minhee was going to get some dick tonight after her shift. “Why don’t you text Jaemin and ask him what will keep Haechan quiet. He should know since they’re friends.”

You groaned, bringing your phone out of your pocket. “I know but still, he needs to stop pressing that damn button.”

“Maybe he wants and loves your attention. He must really like you.” Minhee said, giving you a teasing smile. "You are pretty."

You stuck your tongue out. “Being pretty doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Why don’t you just fuck him or something?” Minhee suggested.

You groaned again, showing her the text you got from your cousin.

Jaemin: Why don’t you fuck him? He’s been dying to get laid lately.

Minhee laughed. “See? No wonder your cousin and I get along so well. Great minds think alike.”

“Ugh…” You let out, your phone vibrated signaling that Haechan was calling you.

“Oh Y/N,” Haechan sang before pressing the button for the 100th time. “I need your assistance again.”

You groaned and entered his room again, not before shutting the door. You didn’t want Seulyong, the head nurse, to hear you screaming at a patient, especially if it’s Haechan. “What now?”

He gave an amused look. “Now what kind of attitude is that? Aren’t nurses supposed to be friendly with their patients?”

“Not if they're being an ass about it.” You muttered under your breath. “Now what do you want Haechan?”

Haechan moved his shoulders. “My shoulders are stiff. Can you massage them for me?”

If you could, you would curse and walk away from him. But since Haechan knew your cousin, you didn’t want Jaemin to complain that you didn’t take care of his friend. You went over to his bed. “Scoot back.”

He did what he was told, smirking at you as you sat on the bed. After a few minutes, Haechan moaned in satisfaction. You were really good with your hands. He felt his muscles being relaxed as you continued to massage his shoulders.

“Better?” You wanted to get over this. As soon as he nodded, you immediately got off the bed.

Before you could leave the room, he grabbed your wrist. “Yes, better. Can you do me another favor?”

You didn’t even reply. You waited for his request while yelling profanities inside your head. 

Damn him.

“I thought I felt a lump on my stomach. I don’t know what that means, but can you check for me?” He sweetly asked. 

Curse him for being so damn hot. 

When the hell did Jaemin hang out with other good looking guys?

You could perfectly hear the other nurses dying and telling you to do it. You waited until Haechan laid down on the bed, lifting up his hospital gown, revealing his perfect, solid abs and boxers to you.

Slowly, you touched his abs as Haechan shivered from your touch. You had to admit, his abs felt so fucking good with your touch. But you didn’t feel a lump at all. “I don’t feel a lump.”

Haechan opened his eyes. He was enjoying this. “Go higher, it’s somewhere around there.”

You went higher, revealing his solid chest. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

“Huh, I must have been imagining things.” He said, giving you an innocent look. 

You glared at him. 

Ugh, sneaky bastard.

“I'll go now.” All you wanted to do was go home and sleep this off. This has been such a tiring experience for you. Before you could leave again, he grabbed your wrist again.

“Wait, stay.”

Fuck, no you weren't going to stay. 

Sure, he was hot but you were so tired.

“Why? My shift is over. I gave you all the attention you need. It’s time for me to go home.”

Haechan frowned a little. The fun hasn’t even started yet. “You can’t leave yet. I need more attention, especially from a sexy, little nurse.”

Before you could protest, Haechan pulled your body on his bed. You couldn’t even react because he captured your lips with his, dominating it. 

It took you a few seconds to realize that you were actually kissing a patient. And your cousin’s friend. 

Fuck it. 

You knew what to do with this situation, like Minhee and Jaemin told you to. You kissed him back, not giving a rat’s ass that you were about to fuck a patient.

Haechan smirked. 

“I see you want my attention.” He said before entering his tongue inside of your mouth.

You just moaned for the cocky bastard. It was better to enjoy the moment than argue with him. Haechan’s lips were incredibly soft, almost pillowy. He deepened the kiss, the hand at the back of your neck bringing you closer. He felt your hand curve around his neck. He moved closer, lured by your response and a small, almost helpless sound you made as you opened your lips. 

Haechan was rubbing all over your body, and playing with your short skirt.

“You are such a bad nurse.” He growled before his right hand went inside your skirt, lightly massaging your clit with his thumb that was being protected by your very thin underwear. “Going around fucking all your patients, huh?”

“N-no…”

You arched your back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Dear god. Haechan looked at your exposed neck. Perfect. Leaning you closer, he began attacking your small neck, biting and sucking as hard as he could, making you gasp and clutched his neck even more.

“Haechan,” you moaned in front of his ear, turning him on even more. You could feel his hard member that was covered by his gown and boxers. You began grinding his body with yours, making him moan and wince.

Right now, he wanted to pounce and fuck your brains out right then and there. Instead, he pushed your panties to the side, and added not one, but two fingers inside your now wet pussy, his thumb continuing to massage your clit. “Does that feel good?”

“Oh god, yes…”

He thrusted hard and fast, hitting your g-spot again and again, making you melt and feel good. He moved his fingers to the side, up and down, forcing you to shudder. Haechan bit your bottom lip as he continued to stroke you with his pleasurable fingers.

After a few more strokes, Haechan finally took his fingers out, licking them in front of you. “You are so ready right now, noona.”

"What?" You pouted, slapping his chest in embarrassment. "Who's your noona?!"

Since you were straddling him, Haechan had expertly taken off your skirt and panties. 

How the hell did that happen?

“You are. Noona, can you help a patient out? I’m a very horny person.”

You couldn’t reply because he already thrust up inside of you, slowly. You knew he was teasing you, waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I'll help you out, Haechan-ah!” Haechan slowly hit your g-spot.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” He said, thrusting a little bit faster. “Damn, your pussy is sucking my cock.” 

He went inside of you again, making you arch, you moaning in pleasure.

“Yes! I'll help you!” You yelled. 

You prayed the other nurses didn’t hear the filth that was going on.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Haechan replied by thrusting inside of you faster now. Each thrust was filling you up with pleasure. Instead of laying down, he sat up in bed, making him go deeper inside your wet pussy. He continued to pound inside of you, making you whimper every time he hit the right spot.

You both came not once, nor twice, but three times. On the fourth fuck, Haechan could feel your walls clenching again.

“Haechan!” You screamed, giving him the satisfaction that he needed as you came for the fourth time. Haechan came as well, arms tightening around you as you continued to spasm in pleasure.

“Another round?” He asked, catching his breath as he gave you a cocky grin.

You lightly pushed off of him and got up. You wanted to, but there was no way you were going to do this for the fifth time. He was a very needy and horny guy. “No, now go to bed or something.”

You put your panties back on. You were about to put on your white skirt until Haechan grabbed it. He leaned towards you. “Tomorrow I need to be satisfied. Will you be here tomorrow to help me, noona?”

You bit your lip, blushing from his comment. 

Why did he have to fuck so damn good?! “Of course, I’ll be here Haechan.”

Satisfied, Haechan gave you back your skirt. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. After all, you were his nurse.

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Summary: Bartolomeo is your neighbor and has it really bad for you. The kind of bad where your stuff is out of place and going missing. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature, SFW chapter TW: Stalking, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior Ao3 Link: Chapter One (3,510 words)

You moved to the city about four months ago. Life had become stagnant and suffocating, especially after finishing college. You needed to get away; from overbearing parents, from your snobbish peers, from everyone. The only good connection you made in college was able to get you an archivist job in the heart of the city, and you snapped it right up. You applied for whatever apartments were in the area that you could afford, and went for the first one that became available.

That might’ve been your first mistake, really. For one thing, it was in a grittier part of town. It was also small, barely the size of two dorm rooms put together, and the neighbors below you were always yelling at each other or loudly fucking each other. But the building was clean, the rent was cheap, and the neighbor across the hall was friendly enough. A bit crass and blunt, but friendly.

His name was Bartolomeo. He was a mean-looking motherfucker by all accounts: wild green hair, septum piercing, tattoos — he was exactly the kind of person people from your hometown would have hated on appearance alone. He had an odd sort of overbite that showed his long canines like a vampire, except that all his teeth were equally sharp, and at first you’d been intimidated by both that and his impressive height. (After a few trips on the train to and from work, you noticed much stranger and much taller folks, and figured it must have just been a quirk of diverse city life).

Despite all appearances, however, Bartolomeo was nice. He held the elevator if he saw you running up, even if it was nearly shut. Some days you’d see him in the hall and he’d stop to chat for a while. One day you realized you two had been talking for almost thirty minutes, and only stopped because he’d gotten a call from his coworker asking him where the hell he was. Even running late, he still moved and talked with an aloof sort of air about him, like nothing could get to him. 

Early on, maybe a few weeks after moving in, you admitted to him that you’d never lived fully alone before, and wondered if maybe you made the right choice to live in such a rough part of town. Bartolomeo had laughed, like finding the neighborhood rough was something he’d never considered. You still remembered what he’d told you:

“People around here aren’t too big on hospitality, but they mind their own business. Don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with you.” He then smiled wide, showing off the rest of his uniquely sharp teeth. “Tell you what — since you’re so nervous about it, if anyone does mess with you, let me know. I’ll take care of ‘em for ya.”

Just the memory of how he had smiled that day brought a faint blush to your cheeks. Fine, you’d admit it: aside from being nice, Bartolomeo was also frustratingly attractive. His devil-may-care charm was hard not to be lured in by, and you couldn’t help but feel some of it rubbing off on you the more you got to chatting. He was loud and so were his friends, and the landlord rarely stuck around long if he stepped into the hallway. You definitely felt a little safer knowing he was around.

Two months ago, the troubles began.

It had been a day like any other. Average shift, average commute, about the only exciting part of the work day had been your coworker, Robin, inviting you for drinks on Friday. You came home and went to your bedroom to change into comfier clothes, but something was off. You couldn’t tell at first, but when you reached for the top drawer of your dresser to pull out some pajama pants — 

It was already open. 

Just slightly, with the edge of your pajama pants stuck in the drawer’s track. 

Now, you weren’t necessarily a meticulous person, but in general you kept your dresser pretty tidy, so it seemed odd to find it this way. Puzzled, you pulled out the pants and a loose t-shirt, frowning as you put them on. Had you been in a hurry that morning? It was possible, since you were struggling to remember what you had for breakfast. Hustling through your routine and being a bit careless with the drawer as a result wasn’t totally out of the question. You pushed down the knot in your stomach and moved on with your evening, the incident forgotten.

Or at least, it would have been forgotten, had there not been further incidents.

Another day, you had been unexpectedly called off. There had been a power outage on the block your workplace was on, and they hadn’t been able to get the emergency lights working. You spent the morning getting your laundry done and putting fresh bed sheets on the bed, and left to run extra errands. When you came back, exhausted but satisfied with your personal productivity, you went to jump into your bed for a quick nap before dinner.

You stopped just short literally jumping in when you found the comforter was already disheveled somehow. As if someone had been laying on top of it.

The frequency of problems seemed to only increase from there. You came home to find your door was unlocked, when you were nigh-obsessive on double-checking it before leaving. Your favorite t-shirt to sleep in had gone missing, and you had just put it in the hamper the night before. You had a journal in your nightstand that you didn’t write in terribly often, but with the strange things happening you felt it’d be nice to get it all documented — you opened it and found creases in a couple of the pages, like it had been clumsily closed and tossed back into the drawer.

You had convinced yourself that everything was fine. Maybe you lost your t-shirt at the laundromat. Maybe you thought you double-checked the door but you hadn’t. Maybe you were nodding off the last time you handled your journal. Maybe, maybe, maybe. At this point, the only thing you were sure of was that you were in denial that any of this was fine.

In hindsight, you really should have brought it up to Bartolomeo sooner than you did.

Drinks with Robin and a few other coworkers became a biweekly affair, lining up with payday. The weather was finally warming up after a particularly cold April, so you put on one of your frillier blouses that you were saving for such an occasion and a pair of jeans. Then you spent way too long looking for your favorite perfume. 

“Motherfucker!”

You slammed your palm against the wall in frustration. Of course. Why the fuck not? With all the other weird happenings, why wouldn’t that fall victim to the bullshit, too? Shaking the sting out of your hand, you got up from the bathroom floor and stormed off, snatching up your purse. You’d just have to hope no one noticed the blouse was a little stuffy-smelling from being put away for so long. Frustrated, you slammed the apartment door on your way out, triple-checking the lock and muttering curses the whole way.

“You good?”

Bartolomeo’s voice behind you made you jump and fumble your keys. With a deep sigh you crouched down and scooped them up, running a hand through your hair. “I’ll be fine. Just running late for payday drinks.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, and you saw him lean to one side in your peripherals. “That’s tonight. When are you guys gonna come out to my bar, huh?”

“When I’m more confident that they won’t mind the heavy metal music,” you said and stood upright, smiling and adding, “Which might be sooner than you think.”

As usual, Bartolomeo was the picture of nonchalance, leaning against his doorframe in a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt that had seen better days. He gave you a sort of half-smirk then nodded to your door. “You sure you’re okay? Sounded like you might’ve hurt yourself in there.”

“Yeah, just...” you sighed and shook your head, “kinda frustrated. I can’t find my good perfume.” You paused, remembering your conversation with him when you first moved in. “Hey, uh, Barto?”

He stood up slightly straighter at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“Can you, uh...” you paused again, twisting the strap on your purse. His suddenly intense stare made you blush and avert your eyes. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my apartment when I’m gone? Like, if you’re around, let me know if you hear or see anything?”

“Yeah, sure!” he answered with surprising eagerness, before he cleared his throat and quickly reverted to the casual tone. “I mean — can I ask why?”

You would have laughed at the outburst, had you not been trying to find the words to explain you thought someone was breaking into your apartment. “It’s just... I don’t know. Some of my stuff’s gone missing. Random things. And sometimes I come home and there’ll be something out of place, or a little off. Like... someone else has been there.”

“Oh, shit.” Bartolomeo pushed off the doorframe, the chain hanging from his belt clinking as he took a step closer. “How long’s this been goin’ on for?”

You continued avoiding his gaze. “Two months, maybe?”

“What?”

“I figured I was just forgetting things,” you said quickly. “It happens, I can be a little spacey. But... not like this. It feels different.” You finally looked at him again with a sheepish smile, your heart melting a bit at the worried look he had. “I probably should have mentioned something sooner. I’m sorry to freak you out like this.”

He shrugged, now suddenly avoiding your gaze. “At least you said somethin’ before it got any worse.”

A chill went down your spine. You didn’t want to think about what “worse” entailed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I told ya you could come to me if anyone was messin’ with you.” He smiled, his fully-bared teeth all the more imposing as he punched one fist into the opposite palm. “I’ll keep an eye out for ya. If I catch anyone hangin’ around where they don’t belong, they’ll be shittin’ sideways for the rest of their life.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. All things considered, you felt lucky that you had such a cool neighbor.

Relief gave way to panic when your phone pinged; a reminder that you had somewhere to be. You cussed under your breath and started rushing toward the elevator, but not before turning and waving to Bartolomeo, shouting as you ran, “Thank you! I owe you one!”

“Don’t mention it!” he called and waved back, watching you turn the corner for the elevator. He leaned against the wall next to his door, shoving his hands in his pockets and listening for the soft ding of the elevator’s arrival. Once he was sure you were out of earshot, he stepped back into his apartment and shut the door, taking a deep breath.

“FUCK!”

Bartolomeo put both his hands over his face, yelling every curse word he knew. How could he have gotten so careless?! He knew he’d gotten way too comfortable with sneaking into your apartment, but two months? You’d been onto him for two months?! He groaned and dragged his hands down, wincing when one of his fingers tugged on his nose ring. No, that wasn’t right; you weren’t onto him, specifically. You only noticed the missing stuff, and whatever it was you meant by “something out of place”.

(He knew exactly what you meant by that, considering his favorite thing to do in your apartment was lie down on your bed and cuddle your pillows.)

Admittedly, part of him was relieved. You asked him for help! Sure, from the time you noticed to the time you said something had him a little concerned, and sure, it was his doing to begin with — but you weren’t aware of the second part! And, if you hadn’t said something, it would only have been a matter of time before he got caught in the act. He had time to correct that now. With you asking for help, it meant he’d be seeing you more, so he wouldn’t have to break into your apartment anymore, and he could act like it never happened!

(He was aware, on some level, that it wouldn’t be that simple. It wouldn’t be enough just to see you more. He had to be with you.)

Bartolomeo groaned again and sat down on the couch, head still in his hands. His heart had finally calmed down, having been racing just from talking to you. You were so cute, from how you fidgeted when you were nervous, to how your laugh sounded, to how you looked in that outfit (well, he thought you always looked nice in any outfit, but that was beside the point). And your eyes — what he wouldn’t give to be able to look into your eyes for more than a handful of seconds. He’d started a habit of looking at your nose when you two chatted, just to keep from turning his head away when your eyes were too much, but it only led to him fighting the insatiable urge to kiss it. He wanted to kiss your whole face, really, but if he started thinking about that, his heart rate was bound to pick up again.

All this to say, Bartolomeo had it bad for you. Real bad.

It started out innocently enough when you moved in across the hall. He thought you were cute from the start, and wanted to be nicer than usual; holding the door if he saw you coming, taking time to chat with you. But then the more he saw you, the more you two talked, the more he found himself looking forward to it. Before he knew it, he was listening for the elevator every time he could, just so he had a chance to talk to you again.

Even though it wasn’t hard to tell you lived alone, you admitting out loud that it was the first time about sent him into shock. Seriously? And in the shittiest neighborhoods you could have possibly ended up in? Something in his brain cranked up to eleven, and he was determined you needed someone looking out for you. Someone close by, who knew the area well, and had more than enough street smarts under his belt. Of course, that someone would be him. Why wouldn’t it be? And so, he came up with something to ease your worries (it was mostly true, in that at the very least the people in the building and running businesses around the neighborhood minded their own), and offered help. The relief on your face was well worth it.

Bartolomeo hadn’t intended for things to get this... intense, though.

The first time he’d broken in had been on impulse. See, the apartment building had older fire escapes, where the ladder wasn’t as compact as it really should be and about half of it hung down below the bottom landing. Most people still couldn’t reach it without significant effort, either by dragging over something to climb on or risking their neck by trying to parkour that shit.

Bartolomeo, however, was not most people. Standing at seven-foot-three, he just had to reach up and haul his own weight for a few rungs. He only did it to prove to himself that he could, in case you were ever in trouble and he needed to get in quickly without fighting with the front door.

Then, he wondered if it would take very long to get to the fourth floor, where both of you lived. He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about the tenants on the way up making a fuss; the unit on the second floor was used by the landlord for storage, and the people directly below you were always too busy arguing or fucking to notice anything.

And then it just. Happened. You weren’t home, and the window was so easy to open, and he had to know everything. How you lived, what you showered with, what sort of stuff did you keep. He had a general idea from talking to you, but he wanted, needed more.

The first time, Bartolomeo just sat on the windowsill, looking around and taking in the bedroom. You kept the floor clear, so if he felt brave enough to venture further in the room he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping and breaking something. You had a desk with a bookshelf built around it that was full of books and video games and figurines, and one of those desktop computers with the rainbow lights on the tower. Your bed was neatly made, adorned with overstuffed pillows, with a storage bench at the foot that was currently being commandeered by a collection of plushies dressed like pirates. The bed itself looked wide enough for two, though he might have to get a little creative to make it work with his taller height.

Not that. He was thinking about laying next to you. Or holding you close. Or watching you fall asleep.

(He absolutely was thinking those things. But in his bed, not yours. What could he say? He needed his California King. It wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t afford one of the fancy custom beds that other city dwellers somehow got their hands on.)

Bartolomeo resolved that breaking in was fine, so long as he always took off his boots (couldn’t rightfully wear shoes into your apartment now, could he?) and didn’t touch anything. That way you’d never know. He stuck to that for the first handful of trips. Then one time he couldn’t resist picking up and fawning over your monkey plushie at the foot of the bed, so he decided it was okay to touch things, but he had to put them back exactly as he found them. Before he knew it, one day he was poking around the jewelry trays on your dresser, and...

He only had the top drawer open for a minute. Two, tops. Any longer and he would have gotten dizzy from how much blood was rushing downwards. He slammed it shut and made a beeline for the fire escape, nearly forgetting his boots in the process. He told himself he wouldn’t be looking in there without your permission, otherwise the temptation would be too great and he'd steal something he really shouldn’t.

(Which is why he eventually stole your shirt instead.)

Okay. So Bartolomeo let his little guilty pleasure get out of control. He just hadn’t realized how easily that happened. Now that you said something to him, he was going to ease off. He pushed up off the couch and sauntered to his room, putting his hands back in his pockets, flinching when one hand touched something he forgot he’d still had on his person. Frowning, he pulled the perfume bottle out, a slight twist in his stomach at the thought he’d frustrated you with his antics. He really hadn’t intended to keep it — honest. He only swiped it because the shirt under his pillow was starting to smell like the rest of his stuff. Not necessarily a bad thing, as it wasn’t like he was unclean (he was unkempt and dirty minded, even peed in the shower sometimes, but not unclean), but. The whole reason he took the shirt was because it smelled like you.

He turned the bottle over in his hands and sat on the edge of his bed. The label on it just said “Elegia” — why couldn’t the names of these things be simple? Fucking vanilla, or flowers, or whatever, so that he could put it back and get something similar. He supposed at least this way he could try to find another bottle online, so he could get it exact, but still... what a pain. Point being, if it had been easier to remember the name, he wouldn’t have had to take it.

...Okay, fine, Bartolomeo stole it thinking you wouldn’t notice. You had a few others, he figured it’d be fine.

With a sigh he reached under his pillows for your shirt, unable to keep from smiling when he saw it. It was light purple, with the words “Bite Me” on it in a black, drippy font. He saw you wear it on laundry day once; it took an immeasurable amount of self control not to take it as an invitation. He then uncapped the perfume and sighed again, his eyes rolling back just a bit. At least he guessed right; this was definitely the one you wore the most often. It smelled like vanilla and strawberries.

Like you.

Shaking out of his reverie, he sprayed the shirt and folded it back up under his pillows. It had been in his possession for too long for him to give it up without arousing suspicion, so he’d settle for returning the perfume.

While you were gone, of course.

[sunsetofdoom]

@man--eater went ahead and tagged me in WIP Wednesday again, and since I do officially have the first chapter of the Fingersmith AU ready to go I figured I'd drop something actually plot-important

“I got word on a serious take.” Striker diddled the chess piece between his fingers- a rook. “Say there’s a high-ranking demon. A king. Does nothing but sit in a library, runnin’ his fingers over his rare books. Prized, precious collection. Wants some of it copied out, or framed. And I do his work.” “Generous of you, donating your time to the fucking poor.” “Shut the fuck up. Now, the guy has a dozen kids. Different wives. Different ranks. Goetia politics, complex stuff. Most of ‘em have their own palaces, own hobbies. But one,” Striker slapped down the playing card- the nine of spades, a thick creased line through the center where it’d been stepped on- like he was making a point. “One, he keeps close. A prince, trained up like a fuckin’ librarian.” Blitzo finally shut his notebook, willing to admit he was listening. Just to make it clear he was still skeptical, he folded his arms. “The boy’s engaged. Has been for years. But-” Striker set down the marble, spinning it gently so it shone blue and green and red. “He has an inheritance waiting... if he marries low. His fiancee’s another Goetia, more money on her name even than he’s got; if they get hitched, they can stay in Daddy’s house, play Happy Families the rest of their days. But if he marries below his station... he could get money from a trust. His mama, a wise woman by my reckoning, left everything she had in a vault for him before she died, just in case whoever his daddy picked out was a cunt.” Nodding along, Blitzo stopped the spinning marble with one finger. “And is she?” “Boy howdy, she is,” Striker smiled, wolfish. “And the boy is just about eatin’ outta my hand. I got him in painting lessons. He’s awful. Innocent. Clueless. And I was just about to propose an elopement, when...” He moved his hand, knocking over the rook. “The chaperone lost his place. It was his dresser, a valet, nobody special; but the father won’t risk nobody contaminating his bloodline. No chaperone, no painting lessons. No elopement.” “No money,” Blitzo mumbled, spinning the marble himself. “How much are we talking, here?” “Twenty thousand in ready,” Striker said, folding and unfolding the nine of spades. “Plus a steady flow- a thousand a month, on a stipend, for the rest of his life or until the money runs out.” “And my cut?” “Five thousand.” “Seven. And at least a couple of the stipend payments.” Blitzo wasn’t an idiot. The real prize was the steady drip of free money. “Six, and one per year.” “Six and every six months. And for doing what?” Striker smiled slowly, nodding in approval. They’d come to an agreement. “You take the job as his dresser. You talk me up, push him into my arms, spin him a shit-eating idiot love story; the boy’s never done anything in his life but read books, he’ll eat it up. And you help him outta the house for the elopement.” “And afterwards?” The smile got wider, and Striker’s tail started to rattle in anticipation. “Afterwards? When all the papers is signed, and I got the bank statements in my name. I go have a little talk with some friends of mine in Sloth, who run the rolls for a fancy-ass mental hospital. They fudge the books, we spread some rumors. And spoiled Prince Stolas spends the rest of his life locked in a little white room, while we use that inheritance money for people like us.”

Tagging @nyxofdemons (HI) @cringefailvox and @onswifterwings,

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job Post 283: Late Night TV, p2

I…hadn’t seen TV for a while. I just plain old hadn’t had one since Sheryl had kicked me out, since I’d moved into this tiny little upper-floor studio over the office. Even before that, though, I was never a big television watcher. I’d generally rather entertain myself with a book, a movie…or these days perving over pictures of Melissa. But earlier today I’d come home after work to find that Marisela had set up a big-screen TV in my apartment for me, perched precariously on a stand, sitting atop an old dresser in the corner. She’d hooked me up with a bunch of streaming services and channels, and connected it all somehow to a plain little black box and an old-timey looking remote with what were certainly not English command symbols. Cool, I guess…it looked sorta fishy but there’d be no bill or fee or whatever, she told me, and therefore I didn’t ask too many questions. Pirated? Probably. But I couldn’t afford subscriptions, let alone the 72” flat screen that now dominated my apartment and at which I now stared from my threadbare couch at 2am. 

TV was weird, these days. I watched the network news for a while, earlier. Everyone was talking about these three missing teens, disappeared since Trick-or-Treating on Halloween night.  They suspected foul play from the kid who was with them, the one with the crazy story about witches with tentacles. In fact I’d seen an interview with Sheila Frances, the new medical director at Riverview Hospital, the place from which I’d recently had my privileges suspended and where the boy was currently being held for observation. “We expect the toxicology reports to come back positive,” she’d said to the interviewer, a busty brunette, “but in the meantime the policewomen are still with him.”

I found it funny how she made a point to say ‘policewomen’. That when talking about the investigators, or the team of docs working with the kid, she referred to them all as ‘she’ or ‘her’. I found it unusual that the interviewer, the news anchors, the sports reporter, and the weather person for this local news squad…they were all women. Most of the actors on the ads, the main leads on the majority of the shows I flipped through: all female faces. Young and attractive, lots of times shapely. Had this trend, this fixation for the tall and buxom, already changed TV’s landscape like this? Or was I just imagining things? I mean, I wasn’t complaining. I mean…wow. Look at the knockers on her��this new sitcom about life on Mars? Apparently NASA has new standards for its astronauts haha. Or the girls on this 24-7 reality TV show? “Celebrity House of Trouble”? Wait…did I recognize that one?

Yikes, 2am. I'd been straight-up channel surfing for hours, now bleary eyed and exhausted but unable to look away, sitting in the dark, bathed by the ghostly, flickering light of the screen. I chalked it up to its newness, made my excuses that I was just checking out what sort of stuff Marisela had hooked up for me, told myself I could sleep in tomorrow. But I was basically like a zombie - click, click, clicking through the channels I’d been given. Networks and streaming services: some I knew, many I didn’t recognize. Cooking channels, travel channels, sports channels. Weird stuff, on the outskirts. Foreign languages, broadcasts from overseas. Special interest channels like…dog grooming. A ‘Men’s Network’…what’s this, now?

It was labeled as ‘Men’s Special Interest Television’ on the guide, and by the looks of it was a pretty new addition to the channel lineup, deep in the high channel numbers, broadcasting only late at night. But…wow. It caught my attention. Jesus - the host for whatever sort of show they were playing, something about video games, could be a porn star with hipster glasses. I actually watched it for a bit, raptly absorbing their review of some new entry that involved, holy shit, look at the jugs on that enormous vampire lady. She’s huge…

The segment was over, and suddenly now it was a cooking show. “Dani in the Kitchen”, whose bosomy, MILF-y chef coo’d at the camera like she was talking to a little lost child. Christ almighty Dani can make dinner for me any time. Now it switched to a sports report, now coverage of women’s bodybuilding, now just straight-up tits on the beach. Camera shots lasted moments, scenes and programming changed quickly. Whatever this channel was, it obviously pegged its audience as having attention spans measured in moments and IQs in the double-digits…and I couldn’t look away. 

Even the ads…lord, especially the ads…were filled with content playing into man’s basic instincts to just flat-out stare and lay docile when shown the right curves, the proper swells and smiles. Cleavage and soft-core and busty political candidates pitching themselves before the election bulged from my screen and I caught myself with my mouth agog, even at the political ads. Had I been watching this channel for more than two hours already? I don’t remember much, now, as I was eventually drifting in and out of sleep, but could still probably recite word-for-word that voice-over from the self-promoting station-identification piece that played in nearly every commercial break, layered over imagery that seemed custom crafted for someone like me…

======================================

Thanks to Ray Ridley, a new contributor, for her voice work on the MSIT promo audio, and AgeOfTheGiantess for lots of inspiration on this entry. 

Ray Ridley tiktok

[alastor-the-demon]

[So most of you want me to swap to Roo and also want to know what a hotel is. Cool.]

A hotel is an establishment that provides paid lodging on a short-term basis. Facilities provided inside a hotel room may range from a modest-quality mattress in a small room to large suites with bigger, higher-quality beds, a dresser, a refrigerator, and other kitchen facilities, upholstered chairs, a flat-screen television, and en-suite bathrooms. Small, lower-priced hotels may offer only the most basic guest services and facilities. Larger, higher-priced hotels may provide additional guest facilities such as a swimming pool, a business center with computers, printers, and other office equipment, childcare, conference and event facilities, tennis or basketball courts, gymnasium, restaurants, day spa, and social function services. Hotel rooms are usually numbered (or named in some smaller hotels and B&Bs) to allow guests to identify their room. Some boutique, high-end hotels have custom decorated rooms. Some hotels offer meals as part of a room and board arrangement. In Japan, capsule hotels provide a tiny room suitable only for sleeping and shared bathroom facilities.

The precursor to the modern hotel was the inn of medieval Europe. For a period of about 200 years from the mid-17th century, coaching inns served as a place for lodging for coach travelers. Inns began to cater to wealthier clients in the mid-18th century. One of the first hotels in a modern sense was opened in Exeter in 1768. Hotels proliferated throughout Western Europe and North America in the early 19th century, and luxury hotels began to spring up in the later part of the 19th century, paricularly in the United States.

Hotel operations vary in size, function, complexity, and cost. Most hotels and major hospitality companies have set industry standards to classify hotel types. An upscale full-service hotel facility offers luxury amenities, full-service accommodations, an on-site restaurant, and the highest level of personalized service, such as a concierge, room service, and clothes-ironing staff. Full-service hotels often contain upscale full-service facilities with many full-service accommodations, an on-site full-service restaurant, and a variety of on-site amenities. Boutique hotels are smaller independent, non-branded hotels that often contain upscale facilities. Small to medium-sized hotel establishments offer a limited amount of on-site amenities. Economy hotels are small to medium-sized hotel establishments that offer basic accommodations with little to no services. Extended stay hotels are small to medium-sized hotels that offer longer-term full-service accommodations compared to a traditional hotel.

Timeshare and destination clubs are a form of property ownership involving ownership of an individual unit of accommodation for seasonal usage. A motel is a small-sized low-rise lodging with direct access to individual rooms from the car parking area. Boutique hotels are typically hotels with a unique environment or intimate setting. A number of hotels and motels have entered the public consciousness through popular culture. Some hotels are built specifically as destinations in themselves, for example casinos and holiday resorts.

Most hotel establishments are run by a general manager who serves as the head executive (often referred to as the "hotel manager"), department heads who oversee various departments within a hotel (e.g., food service), middle managers, administrative staff, and line-level supervisors. The organizational chart and volume of job positions and hierarchy varies by hotel size, function and class, and is often determined by hotel ownership and managing companies.

Etymology

A typical hotel room with a bed, desk, and television

The word hotel is derived from the French hôtel (coming from the same origin as hospital), which referred to a French version of a building seeing frequent visitors, and providing care, rather than a place offering accommodation. In contemporary French usage, hôtel now has the same meaning as the English term, and hôtel particulier is used for the old meaning, as well as "hôtel" in some place names such as Hôtel-Dieu (in Paris), which has been a hospital since the Middle Ages. The French spelling, with the circumflex, was also used in English, but is now rare. The circumflex replaces the 's' found in the earlier hostel spelling, which over time took on a new, but closely related meaning. Grammatically, hotels usually take the definite article – hence "The Astoria Hotel" or simply "The Astoria".

History

The Tabard Inn, Southwark, London

Facilities offering hospitality to travellers featured in early civilizations. In Greco-Roman culture and in ancient Persia, hospitals for recuperation and rest were built at thermal baths. Guinness World Records officially recognised Japan's Nishiyama Onsen Keiunkan, founded in 705, as the oldest hotel in the world.[1] During the Middle Ages, various religious orders at monasteries and abbeys would offer accommodation for travellers on the road.

The precursor to the modern hotel was the inn of medieval Europe, possibly dating back to the rule of Ancient Rome. These would provide for the needs of travellers, including food[2] and lodging, stabling and fodder for the traveller's horses and fresh horses for mail coaches. Famous London examples of inns include the George and the Tabard. A typical layout of an inn featured an inner court with bedrooms on the two sides, with the kitchen and parlour at the front and the stables at the back.[3]

For a period of about 200 years from the mid-17th century, coaching inns served as a place for lodging for coach travellers (in other words, a roadhouse). Coaching inns stabled teams of horses for stagecoaches and mail coaches and replaced tired teams with fresh teams. Traditionally they were seven miles apart, but this depended very much on the terrain.Tremont House in Boston, United States, a luxury hotel, the first to provide indoor plumbingThe Boody House Hotel in Toledo, Ohio

Some English towns had as many as ten such inns and rivalry between them became intense, not only for the income from the stagecoach operators but for the revenue from the food and drink supplied to the wealthy passengers. By the end of the century, coaching inns were being run more professionally, with a regular timetable being followed and fixed menus for food.[4]

Inns began to cater to richer clients in the mid-18th century, and consequently grew in grandeur and in the level of service provided. Sudhir Andrews traces "the birth of an organised hotel industry" to Europe's chalets and small hotels which catered primarily to aristocrats.[5] One of the first hotels in a modern sense, the Royal Clarence, opened in Exeter in 1768, although the idea only really caught on in the early-19th century. In 1812 Mivart's Hotel opened its doors in London, later changing its name to Claridge's.[6]

Hotels proliferated throughout Western Europe and North America in the 19th century. Luxury hotels, including the 1829 Tremont House in Boston, the 1836 Astor House in New York City,[7] the 1889 Savoy Hotel in London, and the Ritz chain of hotels in London and Paris in the late 1890s, catered to an ever more-wealthy clientele.

Title II of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 is part of a United States law that prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, religion, or national origin in places of public accommodation.[8] Hotels are included as types of public accommodation in the Act.[9]

[I am heavily debating turning the Roo blog into my main RP blog. I genuinely find it just... More fun to use.

[Is it because I severely want my theory about her to be right? Maybe.]

[Is it because she's Australian? Yes. A little.]

[Is it because she's hot?]

[...]

[ANYWAYS here]

[kalimullah27777]

Lyari General Hospital Karachi Jobs 2020 for Technicians 2020 Job Advertisement Pakistan Wake of the Emergency COVID-19, Lyari General Hospital, Civil Hospital Karachi needs services for Computer Operator, Data Entry Operator, Bio Medical Technician, Anesthesia Technician, ECG Technician, HDU Technician, Lab Technician, AC Technician, Refrigerator Technician, X Ray Technician, Dispenser, Dresser, Electrician, Oxygen Operator, Driver, LTV Driver, Lab Attendant, Ward Servant, Stretcher Man, Spray Man.

[hotshotsxyz]

trailer said dispatcher!eddie and brain said must write, so here's... this (706 words)

“Dispatcher Diaz,” Bobby says, smiling, and Buck does a double take.

He’d heard, obviously, that Eddie would be starting today, he just hadn’t thought–

“What have you got for us?” Bobby asks.

“Multi-car pile up,” Eddie says over the radio. His voice sounds different, Buck thinks, coming from dispatch instead of the truck’s comms. “Multiple victims, including a thirty-two year old male, trapped in his car by debris. He says he’s uninjured, but I don’t like the way he sounds, Cap.”

“Roger,” Bobby says, “Update us if anything changes.”

Buck has no idea what expression he’s wearing, but if the look Hen fixes him with means anything, it’s probably too revealing.

“Buck, Lucy, start getting debris out of the way,” Bobby orders as they arrive at the scene. “Ravi, get the jaws. Hen, with me. We’re setting up triage.”

Lucy isn’t Eddie, of course she isn’t. She’s competent, so Buck tries not to hold it against her. It’s hard, though, when he turns for a tool and she isn’t there, or when he loses his footing and has to catch himself against the car instead of Eddie’s arm.

“On three?” Lucy asks, crouching next to one of the larger pieces of debris blocking the driver’s side door.

Buck grunts and grabs the other end. It’s not her fault, but… Eddie wouldn’t have had to ask.

They move the twisted sheet of metal out of the way, and it’s fine, it is, until–

“Dispatch to 118, do you copy?”

A quick glance at Bobby tells Buck he’s otherwise occupied, so he answers the radio summons. “Copy, 118.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and if, for a split second, Buck feels a little less cracked, that’s for no one but him to know. “Our trapped vic just took a turn for the worse. You need to get him out now.”

“Going as fast as we can, dispatch,” Buck replies, grunting as he removes another piece of debris, this one a two by four that was wedged between the car door and the overturned U-Haul a few feet away.

“Go faster,” Eddie says. “Vic’s gone quiet, I don’t know how much time he’s got left.”

“I need another set of hands!” Buck yells in the general direction of the rest of the crew.

“Buck, tell me what’s going on,” Eddie says urgently.

Buck clenches his teeth. “Dispatch, I can talk to you or I can do my job.” And it’s – it’s not fair, because Eddie’s supposed to be here, and Buck can’t hold it against him for leaving, but maybe if he was here, they’d already have the guy out, and Buck’s just…

The radio remains silent.

Buck’s angry.

He throws himself back into the debris with gusto, joined a second later by Ravi and someone from the 128. Lucy pulls the final chunk of what used to be a dresser away and Ravi quickly jumps in with the jaws.

“Hen,” Buck says into the radio. “We’ve just about gotten to our guy. Think we’re going to need you on this one.”

“On my way,” Hen replies.

The static shifts in the way it always does when dispatch opens a channel, but no one speaks.

Thing is, Buck knows. He remembers the way it used to weigh on Abby, not knowing what happened to her callers. He’s heard Maddie talk about it, too. And he knows Eddie. Knows why he quit, and knows that it must be driving him crazy, not being able to do anything. A small, vindictive part of him wants Eddie to feel that frustration. Wants him to realize exactly what he’s given up. The rest of him, though –

“Dispatch, do you copy?” Buck says into his radio as he watches Hen and Ravi load the patient onto the gurney and take off in a run towards the ambulance.

“Copy, Firefighter Buckley. Is he–”

“We got him,” Buck says, suddenly exhausted. “On his way to the hospital.”

He doesn’t hear Eddie’s sigh of relief over the radio, but he knows it happened all the same. “Thanks,” Eddie says.

“Anytime, dispatch.”

A second later, Lucy is at his elbow and they’re on to the next extraction. Maybe this one will be a little easier. Buck doesn’t really think so.

[grey-sides]

Even thought it was beautiful just like everything you write 💕💕💕, my heart needs healing after the one sided Harringrove drabble 😭😭😭. Would you be open to a tiny little both boys are nervous to confess their feelings only to find out the other feels the same way?

tapes up your heart with duct tape Here you go! This is longer than any drabble I've fulfilled thus far haha, so so much for tiny! This is also a ton of Robin meddling so I hope in addition to it being fluffy for the boys, it's also kind of silly on behalf of Robin. I hope you enjoy!!

Robin is laying on her back with her head hanging off Steve’s bed, trying to do her eyeliner. She keeps poking herself in the eye and Steve keeps gesturing to his desk which might be easier to use. But she says stabbing herself makes it look more punk. She also says that Steve looks sillier like this and she wants to see him at his maximum silliness. 

“He doesn’t like me, Robin!” Steve insists, adding a final spritz of hairspray on the top of his head. He’s kind of gotten away from the three perfect sprays since his hair basically touches his shoulders now, at the back. 

“He does. Steve, I am a lesbian so that means I’m smarter and better at knowing these things than you are,” Robin retorts, pulling her eyelinger pencil away from her face. “You should just tell him.”

Steve turns to her, slamming his hairspray can on his dresser. “No! I’ve already told you, I’m not going to say anything to him because I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“You risked our friendship by telling me and what happened? Nothing. Maybe, we even became better friends because of it!”

Steve sighs and he fights the urge to run his fingers through his hair because he literally just got finished doing it. “I know that but this is…this is way bigger stakes, Robs. I don’t just have a crush on him, I have like…a megacrush on him. I want to make him french toast in the morning and cut up fresh strawberries for him! Not use jam or the canned pie filling! Actual, fresh strawberries that I would slice by hand!”

Robin sits up and snorts at him before bursting out into full blown laughter. “Steve Harrington, you are the most dramatic person I know. You should tell him because he feels the same way and not telling him is torture for you both.”

Steve makes a bunch of gestures with his hands before finally dropping them with a resounding smack on his thighs. The doorbell rings a moment later and Steve grabs his jacket off the back of his desk chair. “No and don’t you say anything either because we’re just going to a movie, we’re not ruining Steve’s life.”

Robin follows him out of the room, chuckling the whole way. Apparently, this was a job for Robin Buckley, amateur matchmaker. 

***

Robin and Billy don’t hang out as much as she hangs out with Steve, but she still knows he has a massive crush on Steve. Because she’s seen him primping for a date while she hangs around to have a girls’ night with Jane, Max, Erica, and Nancy. And she’s seen him get ready to hang out with Steve and it’s the exact same pattern.

And Billy’s been going on less dates. Just in general since he got out of the hospital, but even before that. When he had a tentative truce with Steve going on and would visit Scoops occasionally. Robin would sit in the back with her whiteboard and doodle them kissing in the corner until Steve came back. It’s cute. 

But Billy is also adamant about not telling Steve. Though, his reasons are a bit more grounded in reality.

“People like us could be killed, Robin, if we’re not careful,” Billy insists and he turns around to stare at his ass in the mirror again. 

“Billy, William, disaster gay, I know this, but we could also be killed because we know government secrets so maybe live a little,” she tells him. She’s sitting on his bed now but she’s not doing anything. Max and Jane are making popcorn while they wait for Erica and Nancy. 

Billy turns to her and holds both fingers out, shaking his head. “No. I’m not risking it. Especially because Steve could react badly and that would be a disaster.”

“Billy, he talked about Bruce Springsteen for forty-five minutes yesterday. His music is not good enough to justify that level of worship, he’s just obsessed with the guy’s sweaty chest!”

“No. End of story. Don’t test my limits,” Billy snaps as he walks out of the bedroom. He’s hanging with Steve and Jonathan tonight. They’re probably all going to get high. Robin is only minorly jealous. But she gets to sit next to Nancy, so. 

Robin follows him out of the bedroom and leans against the wall opposite the coat rack as Billy gets ready to leave. “Okay well, life isn’t a movie, so it’s not going to magically work out unless you say something.”

Billy flips her off as he walks backwards out the door and Robin rolls her eyes. Billy might be more dramatic than Steve sometimes, it’s hard to say. She glances at the kitchen for a moment and smirks to herself. Maybe it’s time to use a little Robin magic. 

***

It’s become clear that Billy and Steve won’t ever say anything to the other person without a little nudge in the right direction. And Robin happens to love nudging people or shoving them in the right direction, so she decides to take matters into her own hands. 

It’s a slow day at Family Video because Tuesdays are always slow. Their busiest days are Fridays and Sundays because people check out on Friday and return on Sunday. But slow days means she can do her homework at the counter while Steve goes in the back to rewind the tapes. It also means that she can steal Steve’s keys from under the counter for just a few minutes. She calls to tell him she’s taking out the trash. 

Robin had tried to impress a car girl once, it’s honestly time well spent. Just a quick pinch or two and her setup will be perfect. Steve can’t resist Billy looking into his car and Billy will probably crack under the slightest bit of pressure. She’s going to buy a bag of popcorn on her way out.

When Keith shows up to close up for the night and do the drawers, Robin tosses Steve his keys with a smile. She does buy herself a bag of popcorn and slings her book bag over her shoulder to walk out to his car. It’s still a little light out, which is perfect for what they need. 

Steve gets into the driver’s seat and Robin is trying to suppress a smile. He turns the key and she hopes he’s not looking over. It stalls. He waits a moment and tries again. Another stall. Steve curses and tries for a third time before laying his head on the steering wheel. 

“Oh my god,” he mutters and shoves his way out of the car. Robin follows a little more sedately, making gesturing motions at the car like she might be of some help. Steve doesn’t know she knows anything about cars. 

Steve gets on the phone, begging Billy to come take a look at it and if nothing else, drive Robin home while Steve waits for a tow. Billy promises to be there soon, step one- complete. 

They wait outside, leaning on Steve’s bumper while Billy’s new Stingray pulls into the lot. It looks like something James Bond would own but Robin knows Steve practically drools over it. For a guy who can barely change a tire, he seems to love Billy’s car. 

Billy gets out and Steve pops the hood, waving his hands around as he explains the issue. Billy’s leaning over the engine and his torso looks long and lean. Steve keeps talking in circles, getting distracted, step two- complete.

Robin pulls out her bag of popcorn and peels it open, taking a handful. She leans against Billy’s car and watches them argue, it’s getting dark fast. Her pocket is a little heavy. Step three- nearly there. 

It really is like watching a movie because Billy asks Steve to stop talking and Steve tells him he has a flashlight in the car, just let him go get it. Then Billy snags Steve’s polo and points at his engine, demanding to know if he has any enemies and Steve goes pale because that can only mean one thing. 

Robin slides a spark plug out of her pocket and tosses it in the air, catching it a couple times. 

“Billy, oh my god, what if it’s the government?” Steve asks desperately, tugging on his hair. “What if I said something and now they’re out to get me? Oh shit. Shit. Shit.”

Billy sighs, long-suffering and smooths his hands over Steve’s shoulders, shaking his head. “Stevie, it’s not the government. It’s probably just some punk kids playing a prank on you or-” he looks over at Robin and she’s caught. Step four- check and mate.

“Or it’s an asshole that goes by the name Robin.”

“Robin?” Steve asks, furrowing his brow. “What?”

Billy stalks over and holds out his hand. “Spark plugs. Now.”

Robin holds one up, dangling it over his palm. “You get one now and one when you…confess.”

“Now,” Billy repeats. 

“Robin?” Steve asks again, sounding lost and confused. 

“Steve, confess and you can have your spark plugs back!” Robin tells him, wiggling the one in her fingers around. “I’m tired of dancing around this.”

“Confess what?” Steve tries, but his voice has gone a little high and nervous like it can where Billy’s concerned. 

“Confess.”

“Fuck! Fine! Steve, I have a massive, gay, stupid crush on you, okay? Robin, give me the spark plugs.” Billy thrusts his hand out again, impatient. His temper is so easy to manipulate.

Robin drops both of them into his hand with a ‘thank you’ and an emphatic look at Steve.

Steve’s jaw is hanging wide open and he looks at Billy as he stalks back over to shove the plugs back in. “Are you serious?”

Billy fixes him with a mutinous glare. “Yes. And if you say shit about it, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Steve waits until Billy has the hood slammed shut before he reaches out to curl his fingers around Billy’s wrist. “Can I say that I feel the same way or will that also get me killed?”

Billy’s eyes go wide too and his expression softens. He looks vulnerable, Robin eats another handful of popcorn. Way better than any romance movie on the shelves right now. “You for real?” Billy whispers. 

“Yes,” Steve murmurs, nodding quickly. “Serious as a heart attack.”

“Kiss!” Robin shouts, tossing popcorn kernels at them. 

They bang their noses together in the first lean-in, but get it right after that and Robin’s not even mad that she doesn’t get home until well after dark. 

[mercurygray]

If you're taking prompts rn, could you do "The picture frame is broken" for Andy/Eddie/Marie? or Andy/Viv? (or like Andy generally. I just really love how you write him.)

A continuation of the Marriage of Convenience AU I started here. Some spicy content below the cut.

How does one return to a marriage?

For three years he had held on to a life lived in a brief two hours, knowing she had gone home, hoping that she'd held on to him the same way he'd held on to her. On the boat home it occured to him, as it had many times before, that there was a chance that she would meet him at the train station and tell him she'd found someone else.

She was standing with his parents when the train came in. His mother's hug was firm, and forever - hers was like a bird, unsure where they still stood. He kissed her only lightly, afraid that he might not be allowed.

His mother talked the whole ride home, nothing but praise for her daughter in law - Vivian does this, Vivian does that. Vivian has the job at the hospital and helps with your sister's children and we'd be lost without her.

It took him a while to realize the story his mother got about how they met was very different from how it actually happened. It didn't take him long at all to realize how much hope was riding on the two of them.

The carefully made double bed in his room was testament to that - that hope. (They were married, weren't they? His mother's marriage quilt was on the top.) Vivian stood, ready for bed in her slip and her robe, waiting for him to return from the bathroom, and he realized how much he didn't want her to see him without his shirt - the scars, the prominences of his bones. It was hot, the last days of Indian summer, but neither of them wanted to be naked, so they sweated, and they slept, trying to keep space between them. In the morning she was already gone, to the bus and her shift at the hospital, and he ran his fingers over the sleeve of her robe, faint with her perfume. This was her room now, more than it was his - her dresses were in the closet and her pictures were on the dresser, including one of him, a grainy photo from early days on the Rock, him in his dungarees, hands on hips, smiling like anything. His class ring sat nearby, still looped into her dogtags. It made him smile, seeing them like that, like the ring was holding them down, keeping them from being used again, just like it was supposed to.

The return was gradual, like a plant growing, opening its leaves up towards the sun. She came home massaging her aching feet and he heated water for a footbath, bathing her toes after she'd taken off her shoes and stockings. She offered to type his cover letters when he applied for jobs, waited while he opened his mail to see if anyone had replied and smiled even when the news wasn't good.

The bed seemed to get smaller, but maybe it was only what was between them that was growing.

Thanksgiving loomed large on the calendar, a chance to see the whole family, let Andy show off his new bride in the style she should have been, if the world was fair and wars were short.

Towards the end of the evening he was really feeling the half-pint of beer, the most his doctor would let his poor stomach try to deal with at one time, pleasantly golden in the buzz of the alcohol. Everyone's laughter was a little louder, and his body was looser and more relaxed than he'd been in months.

"Here, let's get a picture of everyone on the couch," his aunt had said, bustling in with a camera. "Come on, scoot over, there's space there. Get the kids down in front. Vivian, come on, sit next to Andy."

Vivian looked shocked from the kitchen door, an apron around her waist and a towel in her hands, fresh from doing the dishes. "There's no room!"

"Well, get on his lap then," his aunt proclaimed, and the suggestion, he was sure, went straight to his cheeks. (He woke up, some mornings, with the hunger on him, happy she was gone so he could jerk off to the thought of the body pressed to his and saw in the mirror sometimes.) "We'll still see him and he won't break. And take that apron off, your dress is too pretty to hide."

She undid the apron, leaving it on the back of a chair, and settled, sitting, onto his legs, wrapped an arm around his shoulders so that they were both facing the camera. Instinctively his arm moved around her waist to steady her, and he found himself aware, in a way he had been for a long time, of her weight, of the way her legs spread out a little as she sat down, the way her arm felt around his shoulders, the way her perfume smelled, the way her hip was starting to dig into his groin. Her left hand was resting casually across her hips, and he raised his right hand to meet it, thier fingers interlocking in his lap.

He wanted to kiss her, suddenly. But his aunt was still going on about the photo, and the kids were all more or less arranged, so they looked, smiling, into the camera, and let Aunt Janet set the timer so she could scamper into the back, and say cheese on cue while the flash momentarily blinds everyone. "Two more, for luck!" Janet said, running back to reset the timer, and everyone relaxed a moment. Andy moved his hand, gently squeezed Vivian's leg, and he heard her make a noise - a whimper - and felt her body shift on his lap. "Andy." It wasn't a warning, exactly, but something like it - a plea? a promise? But he never moved his hand on her leg, and pressed thier joined hands closer to his own body, the beer making him bold.

He made some excuse about his back and the cold, and they walked home early, his fingers fumbling with the housekey while his mind was already upstairs taking her clothes off.

(She didn't object, to the clothes - in fact, she helped a lot, once they'd locked the door and pulled the shades. There wasn't anyone else, hadn't been anyone else. She'd been waiting, even when there wasn't a reason to wait.)

They kept the lights off, and no one saw anything. It was better that way, he thought. He wanted to learn her body by touch alone. In the morning a picture frame was broken, sent crashing off the bedside table when his lips found her breast and she wanted to grab for something that wasn't his hair. "It's just glass," she offered, smiling. "We can fix that."

[bxtchforstyles]

I’ll Get There.

Harry Styles X Y/N 

Y/N has been struggling with her body image ever since she was a teenager, but now that she was becoming a big time model, it had only gotten worse. 

Warnings: mentions of eating disorders, and symptoms similar to those of a panic attack. 

Word count: 2.4k+ 

gif not mine.

Y/N never realized that not everyone gets dizzy when they stand up too fast. 

She just figured that it was something that happened to everybody, especially since it had been happening to her for years. 

That’s why she was always confused when people asked what was wrong when she had to stop for a moment to gain her balance after standing up from where she was sitting. 

It was later though, when Y/N realized exactly why everyone thought she was sick when she stood. 

She had also been happily dating her boyfriend Harry for almost two years now, that’s when it got the worst. 

Growing up in the spotlight, Y/N never realized how much it took a toll on your self image. She never liked your body, or your face, or your hair, or anything really. 

And it didn’t help that her mother was a famous model for all of her teenage years, which was only ruined when she had Y/N accidentally at the age of twenty two. 

She was an amazing mother nonetheless, but Y/N had always carried this sense of guilt among her unborn self. She knew that her mother was easily one of the most sought after models of her generation, and almost everyone knew who she was. 

So when the tabloids got ahold of the fact she was pregnant, her career was basically over. 

Babies ruin your body. 

At around the age of sixteen, Y/N began to get into modeling, just like her mom, and just like the media had expected. 

 ‘She’s a natural’ 

‘She takes after her mother’ 

‘Let’s hope she doesn’t make the same mistake her mother made’ 

She had heard it all. 

But with the modeling industry, comes diets, and workouts, and healthy, green, disgusting smoothies. All of which were very bad for your mental state, by the way. 

The modeling world was a whole different work than the one Y/N had been surrounded by for the first fifteen years of her life, and now she was in this new world, she realized how much prettier everyone else around her was. 

It wasn’t bad at first, it was just a few skipped snacks, maybe a skipped meal here and there. 

It wasn’t anything serious, it was just a calorie deficit, which is what she thought she needed anyway. 

Everyone told her she looked wonderful, and that only encouraged her more. 

It slowly progressed until she was around eighteen, she was put in an overnight hospital stay once, but it was simply brushed aside, since she claimed her malnourishment was just due to stress.

She promised her mother that she would start consciously eating more again. 

She promised. 

But later that year was when she began dating Harry. It was wonderful, and she didn’t have any doubts that she was beautiful, and he made sure of that. 

But now two years later, the two of them were still going strong. 

Y/N had gotten the job of any model's dream, getting to premiere at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show. 

And it just so happened that her very own boyfriend was chosen to be the performer. 

Y/N was excited at first, finally getting the chance to be able to get on stage with her boyfriend. But that didn’t last very long when she went on twitter a little after the announcement had been posted. 

It was safe to say that most of Harry’s fans were not very pleased that she was going to be walking in the show. 

But there was one tweet that made her particularly sick to her stomach. 

It said; “It would be ten times cuter if it was Kendall walking that runway, Y/N could never compare to her” 

It had now been almost a week since she had read that tweet, and it had made her want to cry. She had definitely had her moments where she fell completely apart while in the shower, but she could never do that in front of Harry. 

She wouldn’t even know where to start. 

Y/N had always been the type of person to hide her emotions, and most of the time she did it very well, that was until the dam finally broke. 

That's when she decided to take a hot shower, thinking maybe it would relax her, and maybe even burn a few calories.  

Harry didn't even realize how long his girlfriend had been in the shower, until he went to run the dishwasher and it wouldn't start.

That meant that there was zero hot water. 

“Y/N?” He knocked on the bathroom door, hoping for a response, “are you okay?” 

He didn't get a response at all, not vocally at least. 

He heard the water turn off from inside the bathroom, figuring that his voice must have broken her out of a gaze of some sort. 

He knocked again, “baby? Are you okay? You've been in there a while.” 

His voice trailed off when he heard the door open slightly, promoting for him to open the ajar door fully. 

Harry was shocked at what he saw, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy, even though no one else lived in their apartment.

The sight of the small girl was definitely a confusing one to Harry, seeing that he had no clue what Y/n had been struggling with for the past years, but especially the past few years. 

She was curled in a ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, pulling them to her chest with her back against the wall. Sitting next to her was the digital scale that Harry frequently used to check his weight. 

He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her or make her think he was mad at her in any way. 

When he got close enough to read the number that was being shown on the scale, he was appalled. He had to hold back his gasp as he crouched in front of her in order for his eyes to be level with hers. 

“Hey,” He placed a hand on top of her knee, trying to grab her attention. “What’s the matter, love?” He was genuinely concerned for her now that he saw the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. 

The only thing that his girlfriend did though, was look back down at her hands once they dropped to her lap, the tears continued flowing. 

“You know you can tell me anything baby, I’m right here.” 

“I-” The sniffles and hiccups that still leave her small body were absolutely heartbreaking to Harry. “I just, I hate m-myself.” 

Harry didn’t even want to imagine what his facial expression looked like in that moment, because hearing his girl say that, absolutely broke him. 

“Y/N,” He finally spoke shakily, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs as her legs straightened. “W-why?” 

He never would have imagined that she was feeling like this, and that made him feel awful knowing that he maybe could have helped her sooner. She had been hurting for god knows how long and he had no idea. 

“I know that you say that you think I’m pretty, and beautiful-” She cuts herself off when another sob racks her body. “But sometimes I think you just tell me that so you don’t hurt my feelings.” 

It had taken her a while to regain her breathing at times, and Harry could see why. Her body was clearly fragile, and was working way harder than it should have to just to keep her lungs pumping. 

He walked into their bedroom that was connected to the bathroom, quickly grabbing the Gatorade that he had set on the dresser a few moments ago when he had begun knocking on the door. 

“Here, take a drink baby.” He tried to put the plastic bottle in her hand, but she wouldn’t even hold it before she was immediately pushing it away. “Y/N, you need to drink something.” 

Her tears only got stronger, her breath becoming more erratic as she shook her head no. 

Her skin was pale, and the bones of shoulder protruded from her body. She looked sick, but Harry didn’t want to admit that, even to himself. 

“I can’t, Harry, I can’t.” The breath that she exhaled was ragged, prompting him to put the hand that wasn’t holding the Gatorade bottle on her back, running it up and down. 

“Yes, you can baby. I promise, I will be here the entire time.” He nodded encouragingly, but she didn’t say a word. “Can you please just take one sip? If not you for, for me.” 

The daunting look that she gave the plastic bottle was enough to make her start hyperventilating. “You don’t get it.” 

“I know I don't,” He sighed loudly, “but I want to.” 

“Why me?” Her voice was barely audible, making so Harry didn’t even hear what she said at first. 

“What?” His large, ring-clad hand was still rubbing up and down her back in an attempt to make her breathe even out. 

Y/N took a deep breath, like she was trying to figure out what to say. “Why do you want me? You could have literally any girl you want, yet you’re still here, and I just don’t get it.” 

It probably seemed horrible when Harry stayed silent for a moment, staring blankly at her. But in all reality, he was just trying to come up with an answer that would be suitable enough to make her understand exactly how he felt about her. 

“I just- I can’t help you understand how I’m feeling, and what I’m going through until I understand. I-i really need to understand.” 

“You know that I love you so much, darling.” 

That’s when the dam finally broke, the tears starting again, and Y/N’s hands angrily slamming down on the bathroom floor. “But why? Help me understand!” She bellowed, making Harry’s eyes widen. 

“Understand what, love?” His voice was calm, and Y/N wasn;t surprised by it. He had never raised his voice at her in the slightest, and she didn’t think he was going to start. 

“Why you chose me! You have a million girls literally at your feet that are so much prettier, and skinnier, and nicer-” Harry cut her off. 

He knew exactly what she was doing. Her anxiousness always caused rambling like this where she would spill all of her feelings, and it made his heart ache that she could ever feel like this. 

“I don’t want anyone else.” He said simply, grabbing her hands. “I love you because you light up any room that you walk into. I love the way you play with your hair when you’re being impatient. I love the way you immediately run to me when I walk in the front door. I love when you attempt to cook, even though you are horrendous at it, but I know you try for me.” 

“I love every single thing about you, to the point that I don’t think I could ever look at anyone else with even remotely the same amount of admiration as I have when I look at you. You make me who I am, and no one else could ever fill my heart to the extent that you do.” 

Y/N looked up at him, watching the single tear roll down his cheek. The only thing she could think to do was lean her head forward from where she was sitting in front of him, laying her head on his chest. 

“Everybody’s mad that I’m going to be walking at the show while you’re performing. They all wanted you to be performing with Kendall.” 

Harry’s hands went under her slim arms, picking her up with ease before placing her in his lap. “I don’t want to perform for anyone unless you’re walking that runway.” 

“I love you.” 

He kissed the top of her head, “I love you too.” 

Y/N laid in his lap for a few more minutes before he stood up, wrapping his arms easily around the back of her thighs, pulling her legs to wrap around his torso. 

“Why don't we eat something, make you feel better?” At this time, Harry had completely forgotten about the image of his girlfriend crying in front of the scale. 

She shook her head as he laid her down against the comforter in their bed, “m’ not hungry.”

He knew better than that, “you haven't eaten all day, what's going on?” 

“I’m preparing for the show, Harry.” 

That’s when he definitely knew something was off, she never called him by his first name. He also saw the look on her face when he mentioned food, she looked sad, not only sad, but disgusted. 

“Did you see the same number on the scale that I did?” He didn’t want to bring it up at first, but now he felt it was necessary to lightly mention it. “If anything, you’re underweight, Y/N.” 

“The number on the scale means absolutely nothing when I still look like- like this.” She motioned down towards her body, making Harry frown. 

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, his thumb and pointer finger connecting immediately, basically overlapping them. “That is not healthy, baby. You need to eat in order to fuel your body, or else you will be so weak that you won’t even be able to make it down the runway.” 

“I can’t be fat for this show Harry, I just can’t. There is too much speculation about me already, and I can’t be known as the fat Victoria Secret model, on top of being the girl who’s dating Harry Styles.” 

“But you’re not fat, and I know that it’s hard for you to see since you’ve had to struggle with these types of things in the modeling industry for so long, but you need to eat.” She was already shaking her head, making Harry’s eyes well with tears. 

“Please, Y/N, for me. I’m not asking for you to sit down and have a full course meal, maybe just something small, healthy even. How about a little side salad, would that be okay? You don’t even have to eat the whole thing.” 

Finally, he got his girlfriend to agree, slowly nodding her head. 

He kneeled onto the bed, wrapping his arms firmly around her. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love you so much, thank you.” 

“I love you too. A lot.” 

Harry grabbed Y/N’s cheeks in his hands, feeling her strong cheekbones against his palms. “I just want you to be healthy, you know that, right?” 

She smiled lightly, leaning her head into his hand, “I’ll get there.”

“I know you will.” 

i hope you like my very first imagine that i have posted on this account! should i do a part two of the fashion show? lmk!!

[noghouls]

— hey look, it’s tawin ‘teddy’ liu! he’s twenty-three years old, he’s lived in shrike heights for six months, and he’s currently working at fast times. i heard he’s pretty impetuous, but i think he’s so charming at the same time. can he make it out alive? -- bright vachirawit, bisexual, male + he/him

tw: miscarriage, bullying mention 

✧ -> tawin was a wild child by the very definition. his parent’s are immigrants, and wanted their kids to have the best life with as many opportunities as possible, so they moved to the states, both working around the clock with multiple jobs, but created a loving environment nonetheless. tawin had a nice childhood, with two loving and attentive parents despite their busy schedules. sure, being the ‘poor kid’ wasn’t always easy, but he didn’t care. he knew his parents tried their best, and it was admirable to tawin. any bullying was ignored, putting his head down and knowing he was better off not getting involved, even if the wildcard in him told him to.

✧ -> teddy was an easy nickname, for how sweet he was and the great hugs he gave, but also for how much stitching up he always required ! he was reckless, fearless, always getting hurt and scraping a knee or an elbow, even breaking bones and could often be found on crutches as he got older. his mother scolded and worried, but couldn’t discourage his wild behavior. ‘life’s too short to not have a cast or two, mom, plenty of room to sign’.

✧ -> he always wanted a younger brother or sister, and it seemed like a reality, happy to share his room to make space for the baby crib and small dresser. it was confusing, then, when he was seven years old and his mother and father returned from the hospital with no baby, with only the homemade blanket in their arms, and tears. it took some time to process, but his mother assured him that she was so very lucky despite it. she had tawin and that was more than enough. she loved him endlessly, and maybe an only child could be special in it’s own way. they never discussed it further, and they never tried again for another child.

✧ -> in high school he got along with many different groups of people: he was somewhat intelligent when he tried, so he crashed the math club, athletic enough in gym class to befriend the jocks, chill enough to cop a cigarette and smoke outside with the skateboarders, just one of those guys who pretty much knew everyone. though the skaters were his favorite people, and he crashed with them after school and on the weekends at the skate park, admiring their skills and how it was probably as close to flying as someone could get, and who didn’t love that? he loved his life in his suburban east coast town, with his friends and his small but modest home, and therefore was devastated when they said they were moving across the country to shrike heights, colorado.

✧ -> rarely did tawin get frustrated with parents or disrespect them, but he was unhappy with the choice to move, and fought them at every turn, even if it was a losing battle. his father had a better job opportunity, and as much as it made financial sense, tawin knew he would miss his friends, his whole life. it put a bit of a strain of their relationship. he knew he could possibly transfer the community college credits to some new school in colorado, but when he got to shrike he decided to take some time off for now, focusing on earning his own money so he could move out of his parent’s house, much to his mother’s dismay. he loved them but with this move, he wanted to experience something he’s never had much of: independence. 

✧ -> working at fast times for the last five months has been super freeing, and he likes the job and the freedom. he didn’t exactly inherit the same great work ethic as his parents, and tends to run late or forget things, but he is generally a decent worker, nothing above and beyond or spectacular, but good with people and friendly, and charming enough to talk people into buying things. 

✧ -> his parents were always open and supportive with tawin, which gave him the opportunity to never feel like he had to hide who he was, especially when it came to his sexuality and who he was dating. he was always interested in both sexes, he learned that early on, and dated all different types of people back home, and had one long term relationship with a female before moving to shrike. he’s flirty and finds dating easy and fun, but deep-down wants a love that’s just like his parents own relationship: withstanding and solid. 

TO SUM IT UP: tawin aka teddy is semi-new around here, still getting his bearings around town. he works at fast times, and is sort of an adrenaline junkie. maybe that’s why he hasn’t gone running for the hills yet ? he’s a pretty likable, generally easy-going person, with bouts of immaturity. he’s kind of a giant kid, typical ‘only-child syndrome,’ not wanting to grow up, peter pan style, which can be both fun or annoying, depending ! make sure to stop in to fast times if you need more info on a motorbike, he can help you. or if you want to hit up the skate park, that works too. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

Describe the last (or current) object you sat on. I have a black twin sized hospital bed that has a remote to control the bed position.  What was your favourite toy when you were a kid? I was obsessed with Barbies.  What weird thing do you eat that most people dislike? Candy corn and black licorice.  Would you change your name if you got married? I don’t plan on getting married, but if I did I think I’d hyphenate.  Were you in any clubs in high school? Yes. 

What time do you generally wake up? I wake up a few times during the night and then I tend to wake up and stay up around 7 or 8.  Do you share a bathroom with anyone? Yeah.  Are there any songs you know every single lyric to? I know the lyrics to numerous songs.  How many amusement parks have you visited? Three.  Who is your favourite character from the show Friends? I never could get into that show.  Do you have any leftovers in your fridge right now? Probably.  What was the last job interview you attended? I’ve never attended one.  Have you ever had a panic attack? Yes, I’ve had many. :/ Where do you keep most of your clothes? In my dresser.  What's your favourite kind of frosting? Buttercream is the best.  Do you prefer watching movies or TV shows? I watch more shows, but I enjoy movies as well.  What decorations do you have in your bedroom? I want to get my Halloween decorations up soon.  What was the last notification you got on your phone? I think it was an Instagram notification.  What career or study were you really interested in but didn't pursue? I pursued the field of study I was really interested in, which was psychology.  Where do you buy most of your groceries? Walmart.  Have you ever taken a painting class? No. Is there a store or restaurant where you're considered a regular? Wingstop would probably be that place, but I’m not the one who picks it up.  How far do you have to travel from home to get to school or work? I’m finished with school and I don’t have a job.  Did you use Vine back when it still existed? I didn’t make any of my own, but yeah I had the app to just watch vines.  How do you like your eggs? Just about every way. 

How old were you when you started wearing a bra, if ever? I was like 11.  What was the last video game you played? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. I was obsessed for like the first year of the pandemic.  Are there any recipes you really want to try? I have a whole Pinterest board of recipes and several screen shots of recipes I’ve come across on Facebook and IG saved to my phone. I don’t cook, but I’d like to get my mom and brother to make some of them.  Has anyone asked how you feel today? Not so far.  Well, how do you feel today?  Right now I feel tired and I’m in pain.  On that note, how have you been feeling lately? Shitty.  Have you ever received a speeding fine? No, I don’t even drive.  Would you rather be incredibly smart or incredibly beautiful? Smart. If I could make some changes to my appearance, too, that’d be nice.  What's your favourite cookie? Sugar, wafer, Oreos, M&M cookies, shortbread.  Do you have a doorbell at your house? Yeah.  What percentage charge is your phone on right now? Like 80 something.  What was the last app you had open on your phone? My email.  Do you use captions when you watch TV and movies? I do. Some shows/movies are too low at times and it also just makes it easier to follow along.  What's your skincare routine? I don’t have one, honestly.  Have you ever visited someone in a psychiatric home or ward? No. Do you spell it colour, or color? Color.  How tall are you? About 5′4. What was the last movie you watched? The live action Pinocchio. 

[kalimullah27777]

Sindh Govt Lyari General Hospital Karachi Jobs 2020 2020 Job Advertisement Pakistan Wake of the Emergency COVID-19, Lyari General Hospital, Civil Hospital Karachi, Government of the Sindh is seeking candidates for the posts of Computer Operator, Data Entry Operator, Bio Medical Technician, Anesthesia Technician, ECG Technician, HDU Technician, Lab Technician, AC Technician, Refrigerator Technician, X Ray Technician, Dispenser, Dresser, Electrician, Oxygen Operator, Driver, LTV Driver, Lab Attendant, Ward Servant, Stretcher Man, Spray Man.

[austarus]

Frost/Caitlin Snow x Reader - 5 and 7

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

*I’m not dead, however, I’m slowly trying to get back into writing. I’m so mentally and emotionally exhausted from my uni and classes. I’m just so tired. I just want winter break to come. My professors and university don’t really care about doing their jobs correctly or compensating/accommodating the students during the stress of the pandemic. It’s harder at the hospital I work at. Break is coming soon and I have so many fics planned. 

Word Count: 2453

“So, cutie, when are you going to tell them?”  

You yelped in surprise at the source of the voice. Turning around you saw Frost leaning against the doorframe of your room. “Tell who- What- How the hell did you even get in here?” You raised an eyebrow at her while she strolled in and plopped down on your bed. You had no idea why she kept calling you pet names.

“I picked your lock.”

“Of course, you did,” you sighed, folding a shirt and setting it aside. You continued doing your laundry while Frost laid back on your bed, legs crossed. Glancing at her, you shook your head while she sucked on a lollipop. Caity had yelled at her for invading your privacy the entire time she was picking your lock. Frost payed her no mind. With your clothes fully sorted in piles, you picked one up and moved to your dresser. Bending down, you opened the most bottom drawer and placed the jeans there along with some leggings. Frost’s eyes racked over your figure.

She’s got a pretty nice ass, huh Caity?

Can’t you keep your eyes to yourself? Be respective.

Hey, (Y/N) started it a few days ago. Remember? And I’m being perceptive.

Caitlin had gone silent at the back of her alter ego’s head. A few days ago, you had accidentally stared a bit too long when she wore a deep V-neck romper. The back was completely open, and Caitlin was sporting her typical heels that day. The physician had caught you a few times, she just wasn’t sure what was up. Did it look bad on her? Was it damaged and you didn’t have the heart to tell her? Frost had… insisted on an idea, but Caity had shut her down. After all, you’ve only been ever interested in guys.

Her eyes were all over us. And her reaction when I came out was delicious.

“Nice panties,” Frost broke the silence, holding one up that had straggled far from you. Confused, you caught it when she had thrown it at you. It was a lacy deep blue one. You huffed and folded it quickly.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Your phone vibrated, with a frown you checked it. It was Cisco.

Ciscito: Is Frost/Caitlin with you? 5: 46 PM

You: Yeah? Why? 5: 51 PM

Ciscito: Good, keep her out of the labs for a bit. Barry and I are going to try to jumpstart the Speedforce machine thing again and she’s sort of been bothering us all day. 5: 53 PM

You: What? No? Have Ralph come pick her up! He’s better at dealing with her. 5: 54 PM

Ciscito: Too late... 5: 55 PM

You: She broke into my home!  5: 56 PM

Ciscito: That sounds like our frost queen. And Ralph’s busy with Sue 5: 57 PM

You: … Of course, he is 5: 58 PM

“I can see your nipples,” You snapped your head up to see the cold meta sit up on your plush bed. You felt your cheeks flush slightly as she smirked at you. Frost loved teasing you, “Right through your shirt. Perky. Cute.”

Don’t make her uncomfortable!

But its so cute and so easy to see her blush. Plus, you’ve seen her boobs in dresses before, they’re pretty cute. So squishy. I can just-

-They are- But that’s beside the point. Just, you know-

-I know, chill, I got this.

You rolled your eyes at her, “In my defense, if I had known someone was coming over, then I would have put a bra on.” You were having a lazy day today, deciding to just clean and not come into the labs. Originally you were going to just laze around without any clothes. You’re glad that you didn’t go through with that idea. “Don’t you have anything else better to do? Anyone else to bug?”

“I’m bugging you.”

“Besides me, Frost.”

“Nah, I’m good. Where’s your alcohol, by the way? I’m stealing some.”

“No, fuck you.”

“When and where? Because we can go right now,” The cold-powered meta pointed with her thumb on the bed. “Bed is right here so-”

“-I will hit that pretty face of yours.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty. Caity, she thinks we’re pretty.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. You always got into these sorts of… Well, you didn’t know how to exactly word it.

“So, when are you going to tell them?”

“Tell who what?” You rolled your eyes as she had followed you out of your bedroom into your quaint living room. Caity took the time to appreciate your small apartment. It was cozy, the color scheme fitting well with not just the décor and furniture, but with your personality.

“The team,” Frost simply stated as she ran her fingers over the cool marble of the side-counter attached to the wall and connected to the counter where the sink resided. You eyed the meta carefully, a ball forming in your gut.

“About what?”

“You know about what.”

“No, I don’t.” Pulling out the alcohol, you avoided her eyes.

“Can I use your bathroom real quick? Don’t want to break the barrier while drinking or else we both know there’d be no end to the bathroom trips for Caity.”

Hey! Rude! I’m right here.

But it’s true.

“First door on the left,” You simply said, pouring the meta a drink while you pulled out some snacks and ginger ale for yourself. Your stomach had been hurting you for a bit. Might as well entertain the Frost Queen while the boys finish. I swear, a warning would have been nice before she arrived.

Frost entered your bathroom and turned on the lights. She froze for a moment at the sight on what was on the arm of the bathtub. Before a snicker left her lips which erupted into a full-on laugh.

Is that-

-a dildo in her bathroom. Yup. Frost got closer and picked up the cleaned toy. She figured it was because the cleaning products for it was out on the counter. Which means she had used it fairly recently. Frost licked her lips at the thought of you using it. That same thought made Caity remain quiet and just feel hella bashful, yet… intrigued by it. Aw, that’s cute she can only take up to 5”. Bet you we can-

-Frost-

-get her up to 7”. Now that’s a delicious thought. It’s a good thing I bought the str-

“Hey, Frost have you seen- Oh my god- I- that’s-” You dropped your towel as you froze in the hallway. The meta turned around with the colored dildo in hand. Your ears had perked up at the intense sound of her laugh, wondering what she was laughing at. Well, now you know and you’re 100% convinced she’s laughing at you.”

“Not yours? I honestly find it hard to believe.”

You tried to form words, but your mind would not comply

“5 inches. That’s real cute. Caity thinks so too.”

Do not involve-

-You think it’s cute, now hush. I can feel your feelings too.

“Are you only meant to tease and pester me?” You flushed under her gaze, stepping over to take the dildo away. “Also, where’s Caitlin? Isn’t she supposed to be having the day to herself this time?” But she dodged you. Running out of the bathroom. You shut off the lights, because duh you pay rent and also save energy thus saving the planet.

“We sort of… switched it up. But this,” Frost held up the detailed dildo. The two of you kept running around the apartment like that. “You can do better. And you know what I mean.” Your heart stopped when she winked at you, giving the tip a slow lick as he eyes never left you. You swallowed hard.

“By the way, Caity and I know. Well, it was mainly me, but no need to be shy.”

“I- How?” You sighed in defeat because you couldn’t catch her. Well, you wanted to 100% tackle her to the couch and steal the dildo, but you Frost didn’t like anyone touching her. Instead you just took a seat on the couch while she moved to stand in front of you, the coffee table wedged between you both.

“A little birdie may have stared a bit too long a few too many times when we were wearing that v-neck romper.” She shrugged before taking a seat beside you. “And it really was adorable watching you fumble about and look away.” Frost smirked, resting her elbow on the back of the couch. “I wonder what else that face can make.”

You felt the air in the apartment get stuffier. “A-and Caitlin knows?”

“Oh, she knows. Now she knows. She just wasn’t convinced about my thought of you being gay… or well, bi. Mainly because you dated guys.” She handed you the dildo.

“Th-that did not mean I can’t be interested in girls. I just… never acted on it.”

“Oh, I know. She just didn’t want to assume and everything. You’re shit with talking to guys, so I figured you’d be the same way or much worse with girls.”

“Gee, thanks,” you rolled your eyes at her, setting the suction cup dildo on the counter. There was a silence in the apartment. You got up to grab the drinks, handing her the glass of alcohol on the rocks while you had your cup of ginger ale.

“Girls do it better.” Frost broke the silence and took great pleasure into seeing you almost choke on your drink.

“Where the fuck did that come from?”

“What? I was just stating an obvious fact in case you were wondering-”

“-I was not-”

“-Yes, you were.” She deadpanned, placing her alcohol down on the coffee table. “Oh, so Caity’s gonna tap in. Hold on.” You raised an eyebrow at the meta melting back into her human alter ego. Platinum blonde hair changed to a beautiful brunette color, eyes softening up as well.

“I am so sorry, I swear she doesn’t think before speaking,” Caitlin started apologizing, fidgeting with her hands. She was always so pretty and adorable when she did that. Or just whenever she spoke in general. “… But she is right.”

“About which part? That chicks do it better? That she can get me to 7”? Or that I’m shit with talking to guys and I would be much worse with girls?”

If she gave me one night, I’d get her to 7-

-Frost-

-Plus, who’d pass up a night of that kind of kinky fun.

Frost! Stop!

You raised an eyebrow and figured Frost was whispering her two cents into Caitlin, who was automatically flushing. “What did she say?”

“Too many things.” Caitlin roughly sighed, “I- we… sort of have been thinking and reflecting-” -Get to the point!- -I am! “A-and we wouldn’t really mind if- I mean we just. W-we like you. And we just wanted to know that we weren’t misinterpreting the signs.” Way to sound like a high schooler with a crush. Grow a pair woman and say that we wanna kiss and bang her like the world means nothing.

“I..” You took in a breath and held your cup with hands. A shaky breath left you. Glancing away, you collected your thoughts before turning back to an expectant Caitlin. “I really like you too. Both of you. Like… a lot.” Caitlin smiled, but you continued. Frost just whispered that she knew it and tried to get Caitlin to go in for the kiss. But Caitlin tuned her out. “At first, I… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to say anything because I just- I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. It’s- That’s why I kept going on those random-ass dates with some guys on bumble. It was actually fun taking some of the guys down a few notches. I swear the male ego is so infuriating sometimes.”

“Amen to that. Honestly Ronnie and Julian were one of the best guys in my life.”

You smiled back at her, “I wanted to convince myself that I shouldn’t be thinking of my close friend like that. But then I kept thinking and feeling. And here we are.” You gestured to herself and you.

Caitlin pulled you into a comforting hug, her arms around your shoulders, “When Frost came out, I did too. I think Cisco and Kamila were the first one’s to know. They did have to drag Frost out of a gay bar where she was literally arm wrestling the other drunk customers. Not one of her best moments.”

Caitlin pulled away abruptly, Frost coming out to defend herself. Platinum blonde locks, icy white irises, and blue lips. “Hey, it was one of my finer moments! I was kicking their asses left and right.”

“I never said anything.” You giggled and Frost just cupped your face with a grin on her face.

“You’re too cute to stay mad at.” The meta tugged you into a kiss, her cool lips pressed against yours, your hands lightly gripped her arms as your lips started smacking against hers in a rough-ish kiss. “Mm, you taste good. Like… vanilla latte?” Pulling away, Frost licked her lips from the kiss and melting back into the depths of her mind for Caitlin to come out to have a taste. Caity’s kiss was gently -sensual- unlike how heated Frost wanted to get with you. Damn, your heart was flying, and your panties were… well… yeah… You locked lips for a bit with Caitlin, nibbling on her soft lips before she finally pulled away with a small breath. Her cheeks were flushed and lips slightly swollen. She looked so cute.

Frost came out once more, pointing behind you, “You know, we can put that dildo to good use tonight.”

Frost, what the hell!

“Shouldn’t you take me out on a few dates before we go to bed?”

“Nah, we can do that tomorrow morning. Plus, Caity’s a big cuddle bug so be prepared for that. I’m more of a big spoon. For now, we can play with that bad boy,” Frost pointed to the dildo behind you, “before upgrading you the 7 inch that I have at home. And believe me. You’ll really enjoy it when I’m done with you.”

“As long as I get to do you too.”

“Obviously”

“Is Caity ok with it?”

“Oh, honey, she’s going to be more than ok with it. She’s flailing around embarrassed right now, but she’s hella wet so. Bed. Let’s go.” You couldn’t help the fit of giggles you had as she dragged you by the hand to your bedroom while holding the light purple dildo in her other hand.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Powerful!Harry

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 In Evidence of Magical Theory by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  43747 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Accidental Bonding, Magical Theory, Magical Cores, Powerful Harry, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Switching, Slash, HP: EWE, Falling In Love, forced bed sharing, Blow Jobs, completed fic, Bonding, Forced Proximity, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Loss of Virginity Summary:  When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible. In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Home by gnarf Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  29377 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Theodore Nott, Auror Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sentient Houses, Magical Theory, Accidental Marriage, Accidental Bonding, Fluff, Getting Together, Banter, First Dates, Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, POV Harry Potter, Drinking, H/D Erised 2019 Summary:  When Harry was forced to leave his house because he couldn't take the things happening there any longer, he realised he'd need to ask for help from the best curse breaker the Ministry had to offer—Draco sodding Malfoy. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened after he finally jumped over his own shadow. A story about an unsolved mystery, a few minor accidents, and finally finding a home. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Under Pressure by VivacissimoVoce Rated:  Mature Words:  21423 Tags: Romance, Mystery, Muggle Life, Post-Hogwarts, POV Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco, Powerful Harry Summary:  Harry Potter has quit magic and left the wizarding world. Draco, a top-notch Tracker, has been hired to find him and save his life. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Lick and a Promise by tackytiger Rated:  Explicit Words:  55321 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Past Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Mystery, Case Fic, Auror Harry Potter, Professor Harry Potter, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Undercover, Sentient Hogwarts, Magical Theory, Back to Hogwarts, Blood Magic, Blood Drinking, Blood, Vampires, Magic, Falling In Love, Masturbation, Desk Sex, Brandy - Freeform, Drinking, Feelings, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Competent Draco Malfoy, Domesticity, Kissing, Undressing, Bathing/Washing, Sharing a Bath, Minor Injuries, minor animal injuries, Minor Child Injuries, H/D Erised 2019, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Hogwarts Professors, Clothing Porn, Love Confessions, Draco Malfoy is a Snappy Dresser, Magical Creatures, Light Angst, Christmas, Christmas at Hogwarts Summary:  Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts! When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help. Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea. Things are complicated between them—what’s new?—but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case. Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand. A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Way Down by lettered Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  65615 Tags: nervous breakdown, Social Anxiety, hermit Harry, Powerful Harry Summary:  Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di Rated:  Explicit Words:  93189 Tags: H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Secondary Theme: Book Fair, Commercial Fisherman Draco Malfoy, Failed Writer Harry Potter, Depressed Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Muscular Draco Malfoy, Recluse Harry Potter, Angst, Smut, Drama & Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Wandless Magic, Boats and Ships, Finland (Country), Fishing, Redemption, School Reunion, Minor Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Suicidal Thoughts, Near Death Experiences, Magical Theory, POV Alternating Summary:  Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998's 15th reunion isn't welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 And One To Play by tackytiger Rated:  Explicit Words:  21777 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Partners, Rimming, Friends to Lovers, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Secret Relationship, Violence, Blood and Injury, Minor Character Death, Hospitalization, depictions of violence, Happy Ending, Competent Draco Malfoy, Magical Theory, Case Fic, Blow Jobs, Major Character Injury, Community: hp_drizzle, HP Drizzle Fest 2019, Police Brutality Summary:  Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are the best team in the Auror Department, even when they're driving Gawain Robards up the wall. When Malfoy is injured on a mission, it causes Harry's magic to go haywire. Meanwhile, a mysterious criminal is draining people's magical cores and turning them into Squibs. Can Harry stop blowing Malfoy away in time to solve the case? And will Malfoy ever stop trying to get the last word? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Leave Your Mark by Gullviva Rated:  Explicit Words:  26712 Tags: Auror Harry Potter, Violent Sex, Office Sex, Powerful Harry, Jealousy, Blow Jobs, Angst and Fluff and Smut, lots of smut, Top Harry, Bottom Draco Summary:  Harry Potter is known in the Auror Office for his short fuse and powerful magic; a dangerous combination. When Draco Malfoy unexpectedly turns up in his life again, as much of a git as ever, the explosive confrontation that follows is inevitable. But as it turns out, that might have been exactly what Harry needed. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by shealwaysreads (onereader) Rated:  Explicit Words:  44800 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-War, Powerful Harry, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Grey Harry Potter, False Identity, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Rough Sex, Consensual Sex, Police Brutality, Government Conspiracy, Dark Harry Potter, Sentient Magical House, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Intrigue, Blood and Gorefights to the death, Rimming, Anal Sex, Love Bites, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Choking, Gambling, Corpses, Serious Injuries, Forced Captivity, Scars, Addiction, No actual animals fighting Summary:  If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die. A glint of green amidst the blood-red changes everything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The new guy by MarigoldWritesThings Rated:  General Words:  2612 Tags: powerful!Harry, accidental magic, Auror Partners, Angst, Oblivious!Harry, Tumblr Prompt Summary:  Harry and Draco have been Auror partners for a while now, but with the arrival of a new guy who is definitely up to something, things become strained. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Just keep breathing by Dahlia_Rose_83 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  55645 Tags: Panic Attacks, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Nightmares, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Burn, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Powerful Harry, Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Harry, Idiots in Love Summary:  Harry had hoped for some peace and normalcy once he'd defeated Voldemort. What he gets instead are nightmares, panic attacks and his magic going haywire. And suddenly his once sworn enemy is the only one he can rely on. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love and Other Unsafe Medical Practices by Tedah Rated:  Explicit Words:  116854 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Harry Potter is a reckless idiot, Healing, Injury Recovery, Accidental Bonding, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Unconventional Medical Practices, Light Dom/sub, Competent Draco Malfoy, Pining, Occlumency, malicious bureaucracy, does this even count as a courtroom drama?, House Elves, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Child Loss, Angst, copious amounts of angst, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is a delight, Chess, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Fashion Designer Pansy Parkinson, Lawyer Blaise Zabini, Happy Ending, Shaving, Kink Negotiation, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, minor sex injury, Explicit Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, magic buildings, Magical Tattoos Summary:  Love is a lot like surgery: sometimes you have to take risks to succeed and most times there are unexpected side effects. Harry is back in a hospital room after an Auror sting gone wrong and nobody is amused at this point. It's starting to become somewhat of a familiar scene for Ron and Hermione. This time his healer is one Draco Malfoy so it's actually a /little/ funny when something goes wrong during recovery. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me) by triggerlil Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  35908 Tags: Pining, Smoking, Club owner harry potter, On the Run, Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, No Horcruxes, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity, (not between Harry and Draco), mention of slavery and human trafficking, inspired by Casablanca, LCDrarry, Eventual Happy Ending, Beauxbatons Student Draco Malfoy Summary:  It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Criminal by The_Sinking_Ship Rated:  Explicit Words:  83499 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Auror Harry Potter, Criminal Draco Malfoy, Card Shark Draco Malfoy, powerful!Harry, smitten!Draco, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Playing House, Domesticity, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, some homophobic slurs/internalized homophobia, but nothing too drastic, Happy Ending, Minor Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Complete, references to past Ginny/Harry, minor draco/omc, Slow Burn, Wandless Magic, Humor, Pining, Top Harry, Topping from the Bottom, Bottom Draco Summary:  Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Quicksilver and Phoenix Fire by The_Sinking_Ship Rated:  Mature Words:  4685 Tags: Auror Partners, Wand lore, Magical Theory, Powerful Harry, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fill Summary:  A wizard’s wand is a delicate thing, precisely suited to their magic. To wield another’s wand isn’t just intimate, it’s exceedingly rare. So what does it mean that Harry’s wand responds so beautifully in Draco’s hand? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Crown Witness by slytherco Rated:  Explicit Words:  70321 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Auror Harry Potter, Mobster Draco Malfoy, Bodyguard Harry Potter, Witness Draco Malfoy, Protective Custody, Enemies to Lovers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Forced Proximity, mafia, Political Intrigue, Crimes & Criminals, Organized Crime, Explicit Sexual Content, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Wandless Magic, magic kink, Healing, Possessive Harry Potter, Serious Injuries, Happy Ending, Guns, Art, FanartI, llustrations, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Police Brutality, Duelling, Voyeurism, Drinking, Past Drug Use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Corruption, Auror Corruption, Blood and Injury, Murder, Gun Violence, Face Punching, POV Harry Potter, Hotel Sex, Bars and Pubs, Masturbation in Shower, Hung Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Frottage ,Rimming, Anal Fingering, Switching, Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family. When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything. In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain. ❤️ Read on AO3

[tinisprout]

No Doubt in Us

Chapter Two - She Has Amnesia *written chapter below*

Masterlist | Prev | Next

Fiance!Haknyeon x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Life is great, you have your dream job, you finally got your first big break, and you are now engaged to the love of your life. Happier than you’ve ever been, you live life one day at a time. Then one day a terrible accident happens leaving you in a coma. Where you finally awake, everything is not as you remember. Amnesia takes away 3 years of your memory, forgetting your beloved Fiance. Faced with a reality that seems unreal, as your mind is stuck in a past with uncomfortable memories, your future with him is uncertain.

Send me an ask if you want to be put on a taglist for this series.

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: none

The House you were met with was unfamiliar, thank goodness Chanhee was here to give a quick tour of the house. You came across some familiar things, but most you didn’t recognize. Chanhee helped you explain the situation to your parents and you agreed to see each other sometime next week. They both had taken a lot of time off work to see you during your stay in the hospital, so you told them to just hold off for a while, promising them that you were fine.

You were thankful for the painkillers you had, or it would have been impossible to wash by yourself, though they made you feel a little drowsy. As a precaution, Chanhee stayed in case you had an accident by yourself. Getting cleaned up felt refreshing, but you didn’t take too long or your mind would wander. You stepped out of the shower covering yourself with a towel and stood in front of the mirror. Wiping the steam-filled mirror, you brought your face closer to the mirror, examining yourself for the second time today.

Your hand lightly grazed over a scabbed-up wound on your forehead. Sliding your hand down your fingers glide across your features, it’s similar but different. Turning your head at different angles you could see your looks had matured a little. It was you no matter how you poked and pulled at your skin. Letting these smaller changes bother you wasn’t going to help you any, so you backed away from the mirror and went out of the bathroom.

You looked around your room, Chanhee showed you around but it was just a quick introduction, you didn’t get to examine everything. The room consisted of a big dresser with a mirror hung behind it, a hanger rack, a queen-sized bed next to the big window that showed almost the whole of downstairs, and a smaller window with a view of outside, in front of the window was a small desk and chair. You looked at the things strewn about the top of the dresser. There were perfumes and colognes, lotions, makeup, and birth control. You took birth control before you met Haknyeon so you weren’t shocked to see it.

Picking it up you pop one out of the packaging swallowing the pill. Damn, how long has it been since I last took one? Hopefully, my next period isn’t too bad. The main reason you started taking birth control was to regulate your period and make it lighter, you weren’t sexually active. You weren’t against it you just hadn’t found someone you felt comfortable enough to go all the way with, your desire to do it wasn’t very high either. Your thoughts drifted to Haknyeon, have we… No! Not the time for this. I can worry about that later.

After a search through the dresser, you grab your underwear putting it on. You looked at the clothes hung up, some of them you recognized, some you didn’t but they were in your taste. You opt to put on some comfy clothes, it was still too early for pajamas. Going downstairs where Chanhee waits for you, he lays on your couch messing with his phone. Chanhee sits up making room for you. Taking the free spot you lean back sighing.

“Sorry for taking up your free day.”

“I was planning to visit you later anyway, I’m just glad you're back. I’ll leave when Haknyeon comes back, He should wake up soon enough.”

“So… tell me about this Fiance.” You looked at your ring finger staring at the indent left on it. Reminded by your action, Chanhee took your ring out of his pocket and handed it to you.

“Put it in your pocket. Find someplace to keep it later.” You followed his orders, putting it in your pocket. He kept the ring for safekeeping after finding out you discarded it. When he heard what you had said to Haknyeon in full, he was shocked and felt bad for both Haknyeon and you. He thought for a bit, “Haknyeon is kind, like, really kind, and caring to others, so much so to the point that he sometimes neglects himself. He can be very emotional. He is a smiley person, always a positive thinker. Honest to a fault at times. A bit of a worrier, but generally free-spirited and carefree. He is kinda a goofball with his friends. Just like you, a hard worker, he is always pushing himself. And his appetite, he is a foodie if I ever met one, he will literally eat anything...anything.” You took some time to process all that he said, trying to imagine the man you saw acting in the ways Chanhee mentioned.

“Hmm.” Hearing your awkward reply Chanhee changed the subject. Talking about miscellaneous things as time passed, you both eventually became hungry.

“I can order something, I don’t really feel like cooking and you shouldn’t try cooking yet.”

“Okay.” Chanhee gets up, going on his phone while pacing around the room. Unbeknownst to you, Chanhee text’s back Haknyeon.

C: Yes, I'm still with her, and glad you’re ok.

H: Thanks, Hyunjae is taking me back home now.

C: I’ll leave when you get here, also tell Hyunjae I said hi

H: will do.

After he finishes texting Haknyeon he glances back at you, now laying across the couch. Then he actually starts ordering food.

In the car sat Hyunjae driving, Sunwoo in shotgun, and Eric and Haknyeon in the back. After texting Chanhee and leaving the hospital the boys talked about all sorts of things to help Haknyeon get his mind off of you, though it didn’t seem to help much considering his replies would be shorter than normal. Then Haknyeon spoke first.

“Guys, can I just cry right now.” No one answered him as they felt lumps form in their throats. Eric reached over and gently wrapped his arms around Haknyeon. Taking this as his cue he held onto Eric and wept, his whimpers filled the car. Eric rubbed his back, crying silently along with him. Sunwoo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure what to do with himself. Hyunjae gripped the wheel tighter, biting his lip. His friend was crying his heart out and he couldn’t do anything to help him. It was a situation completely out of everyone’s control.

Getting back home to you gave him a mix of emotions. He wanted nothing more than to have you back home, but he never expected you to be in such a condition. When they finally arrived at his house, Haknyeon texted Chanhee one last time before getting out of the car. Hyunjae, Sunwoo, and Eric got out of the car as well. They all surrounded Haknyeon, giving him words of encouragement.

“We’ll be here for you, just talk to us whenever you need.” Sunwoo put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he gave a small squeeze.

“Thanks, guys. Chanhee is waiting, I'll go inside now.” They all gave him a big group hug before he went, and Haknyeon felt really grateful for his friends.

Chanhee checked his phone and got up from the table after stuffing a few more bites in his mouth. “I gotta go,” he says while covering his full mouth.

“He’s here already?” You wipe your mouth, also standing up.

"Yup, I'm sure he'll come in any second now. The two of you need to talk." You weren't sure what to say, it was very sudden. Chanhee hugged you quickly, "Hey it's gonna be okay, I promise." After pulling away then came the sound of the door being unlocked. In walked the man you met when you woke up. Your eyes met each other for a moment and he looked away at the approaching Chanhee.

“Hey, Chanhee.”

“Haknyeon, I’m glad you’re okay.” Chanhee went in for a hug and Haknyeon returned it. You watched the natural gesture. They must be close, you thought. They parted and Chanhee went to the door saying goodbye to the both of you, closing the door behind him. With that, you two were alone together for the second time today.

“We should talk shouldn’t we?” You said offering an awkward smile, feeling nervous.

“Yeah.” You moved back to the couch leaving the food on the table, you would take care of it later. Haknyeon followed after you but did not sit on the couch but instead on the floor, across the coffee table that was in front of the couch. Haknyeon checks your hand, the ring still missing from it. He clenched his fists in his lap, he should have expected that, but it still broke his heart to see.

“Today I’ve been told a lot of new information about myself and I’m not sure what to think of a lot of it. It seems surreal, like a dream, but everything I see just confirms it’s real. I- I want to try and remember these things about my life,” About the things I’ve accomplished. “But I need some time to adjust to everything here,” In this house with you. “I’m going to need some space, to think about what I want,” And I don’t know if I want you. Many words were left unsaid, but you didn’t know what else you could say?

“I- I understand. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own home, so don’t worry, I won’t force you into anything.” Those words gave you a little comfort and you thanked him. “I will be going back to work tomorrow, so you probably won’t see me, but call me if you need anything.”

“Okay, sorry for the trouble in advance.” Haknyeon looked you in the eyes, you looked the same save for a few still healing scars, but your distant attitude towards him hurt even though he tried to prepare for it.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” He was generally a clean boy, but since your hospitalization taking care of himself was less of a priority. He would take care of himself when your mother would show concern every time your parents came to visit you. She would always be sure to cook him something and remind him to clean up saying things like, ‘When she wakes up, she’ll be so sad to see you like this, please take care of yourself.’ Thinking about her words now was like a laugh in the face, even if he looked his best it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Ah, then I’ll stay down here then.” The only shower in the house was in your shared room. Needless to say, you wouldn’t be waiting in the room for him.

As Haknyeon washed the filth from his body he thought about what he would do starting tomorrow. He didn’t need to go to work Saturday and Sunday, but he would so he could give you your desired space. He was going to do it for you, at least that’s what he told himself, it was true for the most part. Getting out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked to the big window next to the bed that exposed a view of downstairs. His eyes searched for you, finding you standing at the sliding door leading to the backyard, staring at something unknown. He turned and walked away so he could get changed. You felt eyes on you, so you turned around and looked at the window to the bedroom, but all you saw was the back of a head before it disappeared. You decided to sit back down on the couch before he came back down.

Haknyeon came back downstairs with clothes on and a towel hanging off his head. He roughly rubbed at his damp hair and sat in the same spot as before. He looked up at you the towel covering his head like a hood, he looked a little sad like that. “You can sleep in the bedroom, I can take the couch.”

“Oh, but-”

“You don’t want to sleep in the same room do you?” He was right, you didn’t, so you kept your mouth shut instead. “It’s fine, I understand. Besides, you are the recovering patient, not me.” Well technically, he also got discharged from the hospital today, but you knew what he was trying to say, you wouldn’t try to argue again.

“Okay, thank you. Um, if you’re hungry, Chanhee ordered some food, I put it away in the fridge.”

“Alright, thank you for letting me know.” Strangely enough, he wasn’t that hungry and didn’t really feel like eating. Going back upstairs to your room you look at the bed it was neatly made, you wondered if that was your doing or his. You looked out the window and your eyes looked at Haknyeon making his bed on the couch and then your eyes fell to the sill, it was dusty. Is that normal? No, surely I would clean it. How long has it been since someone has used this room? You decided to not think about it too deeply, you would clean it later. With those thoughts, you went into bed and let sleep take you.

You would never know that when Haknyeon would come home from the hospital, he couldn’t sleep peacefully. He would stay up through the night sitting in the living room thinking about you, wondering when you would wake up, waiting for visiting hours to start again. There would be points where he would fall asleep and he was haunted with nightmares of a crash he never witnessed. Sometimes you would call for help, but he could never reach you. He could only sleep better when he was with you, nightmares would still happen but they would be less often and they felt less traumatic. Thankfully tonight, for the first time in a long time, He dreamt of nothing. But it would be a short-lived peace.

Masterlist | Prev | Next