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wileys-russo · 5 months ago

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the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

its missing jenni hours, little mini series incoming the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

"sí sí sí i am forever in your debt león. happy?" you laughed, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder as you weighed your carry on, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't breach the limit for your flight.

"i will be happy when you finally come home!" your best friend whined making you roll your eyes. "my ass is on its way maría, and tu culo better pick me up later!" you warned, muting her for a moment as you stepped up to the front desk and gave your details, boarding pass printed and handed over.

"no i am not thanking you, i was getting my boarding pass. my stuff is all accounted for sí? it arrived safely?" you frowned in worry, this entire process having been anything but smooth.

"sí amiga, just like i told you yesterday and every other day you've asked everything is in boxes ready to be unpacked once you move, and there is just a few things and files and boxes still in storage at your old place in the garage." mapi promised as you exhaled, hovering by the security check knowing you'd need to hang up before going through, promising mapi to call her the moment you landed before ending the call.

you'd grown up in zaragoza, a few houses down from the dirty blonde you'd been practically attached to like a siamese twin almost your whole life. as you got older you'd moved to madrid to go to university, and then to barcelona for better career opportunities once you graduated.

though for the last three years you'd been living in portugal, a dream job when it arose far too tempting to pass as much as it hurt you to move away from your life, friends and family all still scattered around spain.

you of course returned home to visit but once you'd fallen in love the visits had been few and far between, your life becoming split in two as you had anchors tying you down in either country, admittedly maybe allowing the one in portugal a little too much influence.

which is why it hurt so much when that anchor was suddenly cut loose, almost drowning you in the aftermath of what you'd describe as your first real heartbreak.

so licking your wounds you found yourself with a choice, to stay and soldier through the tattered remains of your life in portugal or retreat back to spain with your tail between your legs and into the arms of the rest of your support circle.

the choice was one you probably made a little too fast once your best friend sweet talked the right people and popped up on her weekend off with a job offer and a plan, more than ready to drag you back home.

it hadn't been the easiest of processes, you'd given your two weeks in at your job which turned into four and then into six so you could adequately train your replacement and smoothly handover your client list.

right after the breakup mapi had convinced you to let her rent out your old place in barcelona for some extra income while you weren't sure how long you'd still be in portugal, your now ex quite the well respected lawyer meant you'd come off with much less than you deserved in assets after the split.

you were crashing with a coworker and slowly shipping your belongings home to meet you whenever you could finally leave all this mess behind you.

though really your old place was too large for just you and though you were returning home you wanted a fresh start which meant a new place, mapi offering for you to stay with her while you searched for the right one.

between her and her girlfriend they technically had an apartment each in the same building, though they spent majority of their time in ingrids which was set up best, mapi's used more as a storage locker which is why she was more than happy to let you stay there temporarily.

and with all sorts of tourists flocking to the warm beaches of barcelona for the summer it made sense that you wring out a little extra money from your old place before putting it on the market.

so now finally free from all that tied you to portugal bar a few friendships you suspected may eventually die out with the distance, and almost all of your belongings safely back in spain, it was time for you to join them.

"estás bromeando." you snickered in disbelief as you exited the terminal, spotting the sign and balloons right away and praying they weren't for you. but of course knowing your family, no such luck.

"i am suddenly wishing i lied about which flight i took." you called out with a shake of your head, a cheeky grin and a blur of tattoos and tan skin darting in front of you before a body was slamming you nearly to the ground.

"hola amiga." you exhaled happily, squeezing the footballer just as tightly as you gave her girlfriend a wave who was hanging back with a smile. "mejor amiga." mapi corrected, pulling away and sloppily kissing your cheek making you grimace and push her away.

"you drove all the way here to pick me up? i told you i could come see you on the weekend!" you laughed at your parents, knowing it was almost a four hour journey from your childhood home where they still lived to the airport they were stood in now.

"it has been many years we have prayed for this day hija, let us enjoy it." your mami smiled warmly as you hugged them both next, exhaling happily at the rapid spanish which floated around the air.

you greeted ingrid next, having met the girl many times despite no longer living here, often teasing your best friend that should they break up you'd actually take ingrids side since she was so lovely, but really you adored seeing her so loved up and well treated by the norweigan.

"welcome home from prison? maría!" you groaned, the defender hiding behind her girlfriend making both yours and ingrids eyes roll. "it was his idea!" her finger reached around and pointed to your papi who shrugged with a smile that said it all.

"and you told her i was coming to grab some things?" you clarified with mapi who hummed in confirmation. the footballer had been doing the majority of the communication with your tenant in your old place considering until now you'd been in another country and she had set the whole thing up anyway.

you'd tried to offer her some money for all of her help which all that earned you was a firm punch to the arm and a warning not to be stupid, reminding you that family always helps family and doesn't expect anything in return.

"sí sí she said she wouldn't be home anyway, and you are only needing to access the garage so you will not be entering the house." mapi assured as you nodded, telling her to text you what she wanted you to grab from the market on your way back before ending the call.

stupidly mislabeling a few boxes had meant you were missing a large amount of clothing, and though both ingrid and mapi assured you were free to wear anything of theirs you already felt like you were asking too much of them staying with them anyway.

besides a lot of your more work appropriate clothes were what was missing and due to start this new role in a few days time and anything but a patient woman you were quite eager to get your ducks in a line.

"oh come on!" you grunted, having twisted the key in the garage door but struggling to pull it open, something that had pained you for years. a waterfall of curse words fell from your lips as your frustration grew and you strained to tug it open, hope fasting fading.

"you know robbers do not usually make so much noise?" you jumped at a voice behind you, dropping the door and spinning around with a startled expression.

"lo siento. i am not a robber, i am-" you tried to explain but the taller girl waved off your words. "the owner, sí? i spoke to mapi this morning." she smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth bared in amusement.

"i am jenni, your tenant." she added on with a grin holding out a heavily tattooed hand as you nodded in understanding and properly introduced yourself. "trouble with the door? there is a trick." she held up a finger and nodding for you to move aside.

you frowned curiously but did as she asked, watching as she twisted the key and popped her shoulder into the door, your eyebrows shooting up nearly as fast as the door was opened. "fácil!" she winked and gestured inside.

"i lived here for nearly five years and-" you mumbled with an annoyed huff. "-and i live here for a few weeks and know all the tricks." jenni laughed, hovering just outside as you squatted down and began to move through boxes.

"something like that." you sent her a smile over your shoulder. "i promise i will get everything out soon, my car is still in portugal and its the last thing to come back and-" you stopped yourself realizing a complete stranger would be the last person to care.

"and i do not need to be wasting more of your time, lo siento." you shook your head, finding the box you needed and tugging it up and out. "no need to apologise. you are from barcelona?" jenni asked curiously as you shook your head.

"zaragoza, but i have been living in portugal for the last few years." you answered with a polite smile. "mm then how did you end up with a house in barcelona?" jenni questioned, lips curled upward and eyes scanning you up and down.

"my mami taught me not to talk to strangers." you teased making her laugh. "so did mine but here i am letting one into my garage." jenni pointed out as you now laughed. "my garage, technically." you shrugged, noticing a large motorcycle in the corner of the garage.

"pulling the landlord card querida? vale vale. well i have paperwork we both signed though that says for another four and a half months it is my garage." jenni reminded with a grin to which you couldn't argue.

"do you ride?" you asked nodding curiously toward the bike. "what happened to not talking to strangers? i cannot ask how you ended up in barcelona but you can ask me about my bike?" jenni gasped mockingly as you rolled your eyes.

"well you just answered my question anyway." you smiled picking up the box of clothes and moving back outside as jenni effortlessly reached up and grabbed the roller door to bring it back down, something you needed a ladder for which was oddly attractive.

jenni herself was quite attractive, the way her bright eyes followed you and rose pink links curved into an alluring smile, not to mention each of her long limbs covered in even more tattoos than mapi as she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a plain white oversized shirt.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a second stranger who came storming out of the house, flipping the girl in front of you off and practically diving into a car speeding away making you frown as the other girl in front of you rolled her eyes.

"friend of yours?" you asked with a raised eyebrow as jenni shrugged. "something like that. would you like to come in for a drink?" the abruptness of her question catching you off guard as you opened and closed your mouth.

"i don't think-" you started, placing down the box as jenni cut you off. "you know if you have a drink with me, i will not be a stranger anymore. didn't your mami also teach you about manners and hospitality?" jenni challenged making you scoff but smile.

"my plans for the evening just ditched me, i already started dinner. it is rude to make someone eat and drink alone you know!" jenni tutted, stepping forward and picking up the box for you before you could protest.

"vamos, i promise i am a good cook and an even better host."

and as you woke up that next morning in a bedroom both familiar and unfamiliar, you knew her words to be true.

you could smell coffee as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, you heard the door open and tugged the covers up to hide your naked chest, jenni strolling in with a steaming mug.

"how did you know?" you smiled, always starting your day with coffee as the taller girl gave you an add look. "how did i know i wanted coffee?" she chuckled taking a sip as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumption.

"what time is it?" you asked with a stretch, bending down and snaking your shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head. "eleven, you really slept in." jenni hummed, leaning against the doorframe as bright green eyes drunk you in.

"sorry." you chuckled, completely missing the slightly awkward silence in the air as jenni stepped forward. "your box of stuff is by the door, get dressed and you should go." the girl shrugged, turning on heel and heading out of the room as your mouth opened in shock.

none the less you hurried to collect your clothes, pulling them on and following after her.

"you know landlords should not really sleep with tenants." jenni tutted with a smirk, pulling herself up and onto the counter as you forced your eyes not to roam her half naked body, flashes of last night where it was pressed against you flickering through your mind.

you scoffed and crossed your arms, opening your mouth to let her have it but she spoke first. "whats wrong bebé? not the normal coffee and breakfast waiting for you afterwards that you are used to? i am not that type of girl." jenni chuckled sipping from her mug.

"but last night we talked about so many things and-" "had sex? sí, and we both got something out of that no? now you should really go, technically a landlord cannot be here without the tenants permission." jenni smirked as you could only scoff.

not gracing her with another word you turned on heel and headed for the front door, hearing her footsteps pad after you as you made a swift exit. you paused as you heard a sharp whistle, slowly turning around.

"did you just whistle at me like a dog?" you asked in disbelief crossing your arms and making her chuckle where she leaned against the door. "you forgot your box." she nodded downward at her feet as you stiffened, swallowing your pride and making your way back toward her.

you glared at her as she simply smiled charmingly, sipping at her coffee as you picked up the box and turned again, storming down the path.

though a second wind brewing as you reached the end you shook your head, spinning to give her a piece of your mind but it was too late, the front door already clicking closed as you heard the turn of the lock.

"puta."

#jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso x reader #woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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jaybird1306 · 13 days ago

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Last month, England and Wales took the first step towards legalising assisted dying (a separate bill is under consideration in Scotland, while Northern Ireland is described as “left behind” on the issue). After a five hour debate in Parliament, MPs voted by 330 to 275 in favour of the The Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill. As it stands, the bill would allow terminally ill adults with an expected six months left to live to end their own lives. They would have to make two separate declarations, signed by either themselves or a proxy (who can be someone who has known them for two years or someone of “good standing” in the community), and their eligibility would have to be confirmed by two doctors and a High Court judge.

The vote to approve this bill is being presented by supporters of the right to assisted death as a victory for dignity, compassion and bodily autonomy. The ultimate in the right to choose. And on these bases you might assume that I am one of those people. After all, I do believe in bodily autonomy. I hope it goes without saying that I believe in dignity and compassion in death as in life. And, of course, I believe fervently in the right to choose what happens to your own body.

But rather than these beliefs leading me to support this bill, they are in fact the reason that I have my doubts. Let me explain.

Like most good liberals, when I historically thought at all about assisted dying I considered myself to be in favour of it — although admittedly without having thought through any of the details. There is no doubt whatsoever that current end of life care leaves far too many people suffering a painful and undignified end. There is also no doubt that some people, out of fear of such an end, have ended their lives earlier than they might otherwise have chosen to, while they still had the ability to travel to Dignitas in Switzerland. Family members have faced the choice of letting their loved one travel and die alone in a foreign country, or to go with them and face the risk of prosecution on their return. None of this is humane. And legalising assisted dying seems like an obvious way to address these issues. That, in any case, was what I historically thought.

But a few years ago, doubts were introduced in my mind when I was a judge on the Royal Society of Literature’s Christopher Bland Prize. One of the books submitted to us was a memoir by Alastair Santhouse, a consultant neuropsychiatrist at The Maudsley Hospital in London. The book, Head First: A Psychiatrist’s Stories of Mind and Body, didn’t make the shortlist in the end, but it did make a lasting impact on me, most notably on my opinion of assisted dying.

Santhouse opens his section on the topic by recounting his first experience of a practice he was later to discover was so common it had a name: “granny dumping.” That is, the depositing of an unwanted elderly relative (the name suggests usually a female relative — we’ll come back to this) at a hospital over Christmas. The elderly woman in question here was brought in by her son and daughter-in-law who told Santhouse, “She just isn't right,” before leaving and turning off their phones. On her own, the woman, now in tears, told Santhouse there was nothing wrong with her. “They just don’t want me over Christmas.”

This episode may shock you as it did me. The thought of doing such a thing to my own mother causes me physical pain in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I simply cannot bear it. But, says Santhouse, the medical profession quickly disabused him of his “notions of people always behaving honourably or having respect for the elderly.” And it is his decades of experience, his repeated witnessing of this lack of honour and respect for older people, that makes him so implacably opposed to assisted dying.

While some may have taken a calm and rational choice to end their lives, there are an unquantifiable number of people who may be pressured or coerced into doing so. […] As they approach the end of their lives, people feeling unwell and scared can experience a pressure, spoken or implied, to let their families collect the inheritance that they would otherwise not get if they had to pay for medical or nursing home fees. They may also feel a pressure to release their families from the burden of caring for them. Vulnerable, frightened patients may only feel loved, accepted and valued by their families if they take the decision to end their lives by assisted suicide. — Santhouse (2021) pp. 206-7

As my parents have aged I too have witnessed some of this lack of honour and respect for older people in action. For example the time an impatient male carer made my strong, capable, fiercely independent mother cry when she was, in the immediate aftermath of a hip operation, feeling none of those things. I have also seen how quickly someone who is strong, capable and fiercely independent can suddenly become scared, uncertain and vulnerable when they lose their independence, even if, as with my mother, it was only temporary. It is far from unbelievable that someone in this state could be quite easily coerced into agreeing to end their own life. Rather, it is frighteningly believable. Indeed I personally know of at least one case where someone felt pressured (to my knowledge never overtly vocalised, but as Santhouse points out, this pressure does not need to be spoken to be felt) into arranging their own death, before at the last minute changing their mind. How many others have simply gone through with it?

Well, according to a recent report on assisted dying, “mercy killings” and failed suicide pacts, that is a question for which we do not have an answer and nor are we likely to get one any time soon. Written by the think-tank “The Other Half, the “Safeguarding women in assisted dying” report notes the “secrecy” that is “built into the latest assisted dying proposals in the UK.”

This is also true of countries thought to be exemplars like Oregon and the Australian states. In Oregon, death certificates do not include a note of assisted dying. All provider information on assisted deaths is deleted after the annual report is prepared. This simple data report does not, and would not, reveal the kind of abuses we fear here. In Canada, there are stories now emerging of families who have tried to prevent their relative being given MAID [medical assistance in dying] —as they believe they are not terminally ill. Families cannot get access to medical records to understand if their relative was coerced. The state protects itself and those who are involved in delivering death. — The Other Half (2024)

The abuse the authors of this report in particular fear is state-delivered domestic homicide — and not without good reason. Although the UK inexplicably only started including over 75s in domestic abuse statistics in 2020, we know that elder abuse is far from uncommon. We also know that women live more years than men in ill health, and that having a disability doubles a woman’s risk of being domestically abused. The law in England and Wales has also recently recognised suicide as an outcome of domestic abuse (indeed, data suggests it may be more common even than homicide) and has outlawed the “rough sex defence” through which men who killed their sexual partner via strangulation achieved leniency in prosecution and sentencing.

We cannot claim therefore to be ignorant of the clear vulnerabilities women face, nor of capacity of violent men to exploit the law to justify their abuse. And yet despite this knowledge, the potential for these laws to be used in the furtherance of violence against women has been shamefully absent from the assisted dying debate.

And not just here in Britain. The report highlights that most countries that have legalised assisted dying don’t even consider domestic abuse in their safeguards (which are mostly concerned with will beneficiaries), let alone collect or publish any data on the issue. Meanwhile, assisted dying campaigners in the UK have championed two male mercy killers with a history of domestic violence, one of whom had previously been imprisoned for bludgeoning his second wife with a mallet.

The result of this data gap on domestic abuse and assisted dying is that it’s hard to quantify exactly how widespread the problem is. We do have some indications, however. We know that in Canada, women “seem 2 times more likely to seek MAID track 2—which allows for those with non ‘reasonably foreseeable’ deaths to die” — that is, women who are not terminally ill. We know in Belgium that women dominate the figures of those given “psychiatric euthanasia.” Why are these psychologically troubled women so much more likely to seek death than their male counterparts? The data is silent on this issue, and the states in question seem in no hurry to uncover the reason behind the sex discrepancy.

In the Bill as it currently stands in England and Wales, assisted death for the mentally unwell would not be an immediate issue, since the law would apply only to terminally ill patients — but the example of countries that have gone before us shows how easily and quickly the concept of “terminal illness” can be and has been stretched.

…it is estimated that now 3 per cent of Belgian and Dutch assisted deaths are for psychiatric disorder. Psychiatric illness is not usually terminal and suicidal impulses are often part of the illness itself. To have a state-sanctioned way for such people to end their lives should be a cause of concern for everyone.

One study showed that 50 per cent of Dutch psychiatric patients asking to die had a personality disorder* (a very unstable diagnosis with symptoms sensitive to social pressures), a figure similar to that in Belgium. Twenty per cent had never been hospitalized because of mental health problems (which calls into question how severe they are) and, in 56 per cent of cases, loneliness and social isolation was thought to be an important factor. This in turn raises the question as to whether assisted suicide is being used instead of proper social and mental health care. Perhaps the most troubling statistic in the study was that in 12 per cent of cases in the Netherlands, the three assessors had not agreed unanimously on the decision, and yet the assisted death went ahead anyway. — Santhouse (2021) p. 209

This final statistic is echoed in a finding from The Other Half report, which notes that in Western Australia, guidance states that “feeling a burden” is meant to be a red flag for assessors determining a patient’s eligibility. But despite “more than a third of those approved reporting they felt a burden, Western Australian medics decided that everyone who applied for VAD was eligible in acting voluntarily and not being subject to coercion in 2023-24.” Which, to say the least, stretches credulity; as the authors of the report put it: “It is startling that despite the prevalence of domestic and elder abuse in Australia, the assisted dying safeguards for these picked up absolutely no one at all.”

Well, quite.

Santhouse also raises concerns about safeguarding, noting that “as the experienced expert who would be asked to undertake [safeguarding] assessments,” their presence is “no reassurance whatsoever.” It is, he writes, “extremely difficult to truly know someone's motives, including the motives in someone asking for assisted dying. This is particularly the case where the individual concerned is frightened, vulnerable or wants to please others, and do what they believe others want them to do.”

Source: The Other Half (2024)

[Image description: an excerpt from The Other Half, "The 2006 killing of Mandy Horne in Shetland was widely reported as a Romeo and Juliet, mercy killing by her husband - Mandy had MS. Both died so there was no investigation. Only through Mandy's father and a curious Times journalist was it later revealed to be a very violent murder and suicide by Mandy's husband: he's also killed their pets. The night before she died, Mandy had asked friends to stay because she was scared of her husband."]

But despite the failure of states that have legalised assisted dying to collect data on its intersection with domestic violence, we are not entirely without pertinent evidence. By combing through “news reporting, inquest findings, sentencing remarks and court of appeal judgements where killings and attempted killings were said by a judge, coroner or defence to be part of a mercy killing, or (failed) suicide pact,” The Other Half report authors have identified and reviewed more than 100 “mercy killings” and “failed suicide pacts” — and they make for sobering reading.

The Other Half’s research revealed that “at least 5 UK men per year violently kill women who are disabled, elderly or infirm, under the guise of mercy killings.” Eighty-eight per cent of the killers were male, overwhelmingly husbands and sons, and the killings were extremely violent, involving “cutting women’s throats, bludgeoning them, shooting them, or using stabbing, suffocation and strangulation.” One woman was thrown off a balcony by her son. Another was strangled with her dressing-gown cord by her husband. Many women had their throat slit. “Overkill,” the authors found, was frequent. Meanwhile, men are “overwhelmingly the survivors of ‘failed suicide pacts’.”

Having my throat slit, or being strangled with my dressing gown cord, or being thrown off a balcony does not sound particularly merciful to me, and whether or not you wish to die, it is hard to imagine anyone choosing to die in such a violent manner. But the vast majority of these women did not ever express a wish to die at all, let alone to die violently. 78% of them were not even terminally ill, being simply “disabled or elderly and infirm.” The report identified an increase in a woman’s care needs as a trigger for a mercy killing.

The majority of these men were let off with suspended sentences and sympathy from judges who repeatedly spoke of the “exceptional” nature of these strikingly similar cases (the report found that the few women who engage in “mercy killing” generally get a life sentence), with “very limited data, if any, data [being] collected by the state on these deaths, and no learning or curiosity.” One man let off with a suspended sentence had written the joint suicide note himself with no input from his wife; another had a history of domestic violence against his dead wife. And, let’s not forget, these lenient sentences all took place in a context where assisted dying is illegal. It’s also worth pointing out that this analysis would not have been possible if these mercy killings had taken place under the auspices of the new bill, because none of the information would be publicly available.

Source: The Other Half (2024)

[Image description: excerpt from The Other Half, The judicial safeguard: even criminal court judges are not able to spot patterns in so called mercy killings. Selected judicial remarks to mercy and failed suicide pact killers. "This is indeed an exceptional case" - Scotland husband smothered wife who'd returned home from hospital. "A tragedy for you...exceptional in the experiences of this court. You were under immense emotional pressure...you acted out of love." - Husband wrote his wife's suicide note then cut her throat. Suspended sentence. "I conclude the mental torment engendered by the impossible situation in which you found yourself must have been intolerable." - Husband strangled wife after she had broken her vertebrae and had been unable to look after him. Suspended sentence. "[The judge] decided to suspend the sentence due to the 'exceptional' circumstances" - Father helped his daughter take an overdose then suffocated her. She had been receiving (poor) inpatient mental health care in hospital. Suspended sentence. "It was, in part, an act which you believed to be one of mercy." - Husband knocked his wife out with a dumbbell then slit her throat. She had dementia. Suspended sentence. "the defendant was not coping with the strain of being the principle carer...I accept at the time he did believe he was doing what he believed to be an act of mercy." - Husband smothered wife with clingfilm. She had Parkinsons and had recently has a fall. Suspended sentence. "the case was exceptional and jail would not be appropriate" -Husband gave his wife an overdose of antidepressants and suffocated her in a plastic bag. "I accept in killing your wife you were doing so because you felt this was the only way to limit or prevent her suffering." - Husband pushed his wife down the stairs and then strangled her. She had dementia. Suspended sentence. "The taking of a life is always a grave crime, but the exceptional circumstances of this case require the court to show compassion." - Husband cut his wife's throat after her dementia worsened. Suspended sentence. "indeed true love...an exceptional case" - Husband attempted to bludgeon his wife to death with a hammer. Suspended sentence. "a most unusual and very sad case" - Husband struck his wife with an iron pole, then smothered her as she sat in bed. Suspended sentence. "You were convinced that she was suffering and it was more than you could bear." - Son threw his mother off a balcony as she was receiving end of life care. Suspended sentence.]

But what about all the people who are not coerced, you may be thinking at this point. Don’t they have a right to bodily autonomy? Don’t they have the right to choose?

To this I have two points, the first of which is that rights in a democracy must be balanced and the right of one person to willingly choose to end his life must be weighed against the right of another person to choose to continue with hers. Nothing about the debate so far, nor the bill in question, makes me at all confident that this balance has even been considered, much less achieved. As Sarah Ditum noted in her excellent piece in The Times, published shortly before the vote took place:

But for legislation that relies on the principle of informed consent, there seems to be a strange haste to get it on the books without fully investigating its implications. The full text of the bill was published last Tuesday; MPs will vote on its second reading less than two weeks from today. This is not ideal, particularly when the issue is as consequential, ethically and practically, as medically administered death.[…] Before taking a neutral stance on a bill, the government should scrutinise it, including producing an impact assessment and a legal issues memorandum. These are supposed to be made available one month before the second reading, but as they don’t currently exist and the second reading is less than a month away anyway, that isn’t going to happen. — Ditum (2024)

Beyond this lack of proper scrutiny is the question of whether the state of care for those living with illness, whether terminal or not, gives people a meaningful choice to make. Certainly, the Health Secretary Wes Streeting doesn’t think it does, leading to his voting against the bill. Neither, apparently, does the Voluntary Assisted Dying (VAD) programme in Australia, if the pamphlet cited by The Other Half is anything to go by, featuring as it does this family quote: “The voluntary assisted dying process was really the first time that any medical and allied health practitioners had given such understanding and empathy to my sister's suffering, and that was such a relief.”

And, sure, you could read this as approbation of the VAD programme. Or you could read it as an indictment on the care system.

For his part, Santhouse says his experience is that when people are asking to die, “they are commonly communicating something different.”

They are asking for help to live. They are saying that they can't see how they can cope with the problems that they have, and are asking for help in finding a way through the seemingly impossible difficulties that lie ahead. To take their request at face value, and to whisk them over to the nearest assisted dying clinic, is to abrogate our responsibilities to the patient. — Santhouse (2024), p.210

If people are not making a free choice, if people are choosing death not because they want to die but because we have failed so abjectly to make living bearable for those who need care, what does that say about us as a society?

Similarly, as the Other Half notes in its examination of female suicidality in response to domestic violence, it “is impossible not to imagine a scenario that a woman in abusive situations would find it easier to access NHS assisted dying than support to create new life away from her abuser.” Certainly, assisting her death would be cheaper, a concern which was also raised by Santhouse, who fears that legalising assisted dying would make it “far easier to give up on people once the going gets tough.”

Advocates for assisted dying often rebut concerns about the morality or ethics of assisted dying by pointing to the strong public support that their position holds. And it’s true: my opinion is, as they say, unpopular: a poll conducted by Opinium earlier this year on behalf of pressure group Dignity in Dying found that 75% of the British public supports assisted dying.

But how many of the British public really understand the implications of how this works in practice? How many of them are thinking about the violence of the mercy killings we are asked to sympathise with, or the ease with which vulnerable people can be coerced into unwillingly ending their own lives? I ask, because when you poll British people who are more likely to have a good grasp of how assisted dying might work out in reality, the support drops rather precipitously.

A recent survey by the British Medical Association found that 50% of doctors were in favour of the legalisation of assisted dying, which is already a substantial drop from the position of the general public. The difference was even more pronounced when considering only palliative care doctors, that is, the doctors who are most likely to have direct experience of the realities for the patients involved (how good care can change their attitude to life; how vulnerable to coercion patients might be). Among these doctors, 76% were against a change in the law — almost the exact inverse of the opinion of the general public.

Where we go from here is unclear. The Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill is now at the committee stage, where it will hopefully receive some of the scrutiny that has to date been sorely lacking —although given parliamentary timetabling restrictions this is by no means guaranteed. In the meantime, social and palliative care continues to be underfunded and under-resourced. And some men will continue to violently kill some women, and the state will continue to allow most of them to get away with it.

In a weird coincidence, shortly after I wrote this piece a friend of mine told me about the Christmas care package that had been sent by Age UK to her mother and aunt:

[Image description: A collection of gifts that includes slippers, a blanket, shortbread biscuits, a box of Celebrations chocolates, other unidentifiable edible or wearable treats.]

Age UK apparently sends these packages out to people on benefits with age-related health problems, and it’s such a brilliantly practical and caring idea I was inspired to set up a monthly donation to the charity.

Here’s why you should too: ageing is a feminist issue. Older women are poorer (thanks to the pay and pensions gap) and more frail and in poorer health (thanks to the health data and treatment gap) than older men. They are also more likely, thanks to sex differences in unpaid care (see Invisible Women for stats on this), to have spent their life taking care of other people. So, this Christmas, instead of “granny dumping,” let’s return the favour and make sure older women are taken care of themselves as they have taken care of all of us.

The link to donate again is here.

#disablility #feminism #invisible women #right to die laws #assisted dying #trigger warning #violence against women #violence against disabled women #domestic abuse

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nkjemisin · 4 months ago

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Hello NK Jemisin! I'm a huge fan of yours, and I wanted to thank you for writing all of the books you've written, and doing all that you do. You're really awesome and you are doing important work! :) I had a long question, if you have time to answer! What's your commentary on creating fantasy cultures, using real ones as inspiration? You've done this before in your stories, and I wanted to know if you had any guidance on doing it well. I'm writing my first novel right now (fantasy!) and am dealing with a surprising amount of guilt regarding using real cultures as a basis for my fake ones. On one hand, I want to create a really unique fantasy world, not the bog-standard European stuff. It's not only more interesting to me, but I also admittedly want to use my story to help introduce people to concepts that might be helpful in the real world, help readers understand what these real people go through and perhaps inspire change. On the OTHER hand, I don't know if it's 'my place' to do so (I'm Black btw, but I'm not just writing about Black-coded fantasy characters). And I'm worried about representing people in a harmful way, even if it's by accident. I'm even hung up about names! Should I use names from real languages related to the cultures I'm inspired by, or should I just make them up to emphasize that, while yes these people are clearly inspired by real cultures, they are ultimately *their own* thing. I'm really conflicted on this and am hoping you can offer some feedback and/or commentary. Sorry for the long ask. Either way, have a great day and I look forward to whatever work you do next!

If I can rephrase what you're saying here, it sounds like you're concerned about cultural appropriation -- specifically, which cultures you get to "borrow from" and "remix," how much remixing you can do before you've done damage, how to depict people from cultural backgrounds other than your own, etc.

If that's what you're asking, then there are whole schools of thought on how to "appropriate appropriately." A lot of thinking on this has evolved in the past few years, for good and for ill; Own Voices, for example. (The short version: the Own Voices hashtag movement started as a grassroots attempt to get marginalized voices telling the stories of their own cultures, because there's been a nasty trend of only white/Western/Anglophone/etc. authors publishing books about those cultures. The problem? Some publishers and readers started acting as if marginalized writers weren't allowed to do anything but stories in their own cultures -- a restriction, instead of an inclusion/correction. Worse, publishers, etc started using it as a marketing shorthand, in ways that were just... not good. They made it weird, basically.) But I'm still fond of the approach that's in Writing the Other, by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward. It's centered on ethnicity/race, but a lot of its approach can be extrapolated to culture. There's too much good stuff in this book to summarize it easily, but you should read it instead of a summary anyway -- it's short.

I don't see the point of guilt, when it comes to something like this. Guilt is what you feel when you've done something wrong, and admiring another culture enough to want to tell a story featuring it isn't wrong. However, there are things you need to do -- research, conversations, considerations of power dynamics -- to reduce the harm you might end up doing by telling that story as an outsider. And note that no matter what you do, though, you might still end up doing harm. (Even people writing about their own culture can end up doing that.) If you fuck up, apologize, figure out what went wrong, and try to do better next time. That's really all you can do.

And then write whatever the hell you want. There's a persistent pressure on Black writers to only cover certain subjects, certain settings; nah. We get to have range, too. You've just got to put in the work to do it well.

Good luck.

#answered asks

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littlest-bugz · 3 months ago

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The Collective You

[one system's brief advice about accepting the idea of the collective you]

One of the best pieces of system advice started from a tumblr post and was elaborated by my DID specialist. I can't find the original tumblr post that started it, so I'm making a little post of my own <3 Share the knowledge. and also hope that someone can link the original post lol.

When I was REALLY going through it™ with my first diagnosis w/ DID, and a lack of integration, all of my alters felt like separate individuals, some of us feeling as distanced as a coworker or a stranger altogether. We were just getting a grasp on internal communication between all of our subsystems, and it was rough. We felt so entirely differentiated that we were our own people trapped in one body. While I don't really care about what language you use, all alters in CDDs are a part of one person [there's only one body and brain]- the collective you.

So obvs, I'm scrolling tumblr like the chronically online doomscroller that I am, and I see this post that goes along the line of not knowing who you are, but knowing you are 'you', regardless of who you are [referring to alters]. And it said something like "we're all me enough to pick up our meds"- something like that. iirc it was a half light hearted, half advice post, but that was really good advice for me. I kind of internalized it after I processed it in therapy. It's actually why I have started to love parts language lately tbh.

After further processing this idea in therapy, Identity Confusion stopped mattering in the grand scheme of things. I focused less on worrying about who I was, and just focused on the fact that I'm me. Just like the post I saw- We are all me. The example of all being me enough to pick up my medications just applied, like, everywhere. Even when it came down to the smallest things- with coping with other symptoms too.

Oh? I don't like coffee right now? I guess I should switch to something else. [differentiated alters]

Oh? I have barely any drawing skills right now? Okay, really sucks but I can work on something else and come back to it later. [skill variance between alters]

Oh? I have to go to a doctor's appointment? I know I'll forget that- Gotta write a list, and put it up on the board so I remember. [day to day amnesia]

You know what happened? My dissociation got better! Not immediately or entirely, obviously, and my memory [re amnesia] still sucks, but that's part of the disorder- plus other disorders that I have. This idea of the collective you is something that I think is really beneficial to all CDD systems, especially during the mid to later stages of recovery.

I, admittedly, credit most of my healing to conversations I have had with my DID specialist. Especially since, without her, I wouldn't have been able to process this idea of the collective me further, but the conversation wouldn't have been started if I hadn't seen that post on tumblr. This was a budding concept with us due to the separation we had. It helped with integration. GRANTED... Not every alter got the memo, obviously, but It's something that I'm still working on. Of course, being me comes with the prerequisite that I am a person with DID, and that I am made up of multiple parts.

Now for the piece of advice I got from my therapist- Though it requires a certain level of knowledge of your own system, such as a list of alters and some identifying info [fav drinks, fav colors, those type of things]. Look at the list of your alters wherever it may be. Just whatever you use for logging your system members. Look for the commonalities between alters. There will be at least some commonalities.

For example; A good 45% of us like bunnies, 45% like cats, and 10% have a liking for other kinds of animals. Using this information, I can pretty much deduce that 1. the collective me loves animals and 2. the collective me likes cats and bunnies especially.

Another example; I looked through our simplyplural, which has a favorite color thing [in ours at least]. By looking through the list, I figured out 1. wow I like literally all colors- my fav color is rainbows and 2. I especially like pink and light blue.

More examples; the list.. THE LIST... I looked through it and saw that a good 90% of us like MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS- of varying flavors, but the common denominator was Ultra Strawberry Dreams, but all of us like [or tolerate] water as a preferred drink. From there I can come to the conclusion that I prefer water over anything else and that I have a problem with monster [being light hearted but I genuinely do].

I hope you get the idea I'm going for. I used this process for nearly every aspect of our collective identity, though some had to genuinely be voted on, such as our LGBTQIA+ labels [offline, we just call ourself queer, but that's.. aside the point LMAO].

Obviously, there are going to be outliers- Having DID comes with the fun [/s] aspect of alters being differentiated from each other in some capacity. Example for the monster energy one- We have a handful of alters that HATE energy drinks- even just fizzy drinks in general. There's one guy who will only drink Black Coffee and water- nothing else. He's the guy who is always hiding away our monsters in the way back of the fridge, but guess what!! He's me!! The part of me that doesn't want me to ruin my health over energy drinks. The part of me that knows I deserve better than my unhealthy habits.

Getting to know the collective you is just like learning about your system! It is not inherently different than figuring out what an alters dislikes or likes are. The idea of The Collective You shouldn't feel scary or anxiety inducing- if it is, you may want to confront those feelings with a therapist if you have access to one. Every CDD system is the collective [or, well, system] of one fragmented individual- That is a studied and objective fact. I wanted to give advice from one recovering system to another.

No, this will not work for everyone, every system is different, but I'm hoping this post finds the right audience in knowing that it's worth a shot to try this!

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regainingparadise · 4 months ago

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Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

#Look I love them #But they need so much therapy #Even in the most no powers fluffy AU fanfic #They really would need therapy #Jmart #teaholding #Jon Sims #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Martin K Blackwood #the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma #tma meta #tma spoilers #making my english professor proud #Marfisa Thinks Things

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moriitis · 4 days ago

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Hey! Happy holidays, moriitis!

This is an unusual curiosity, but... What do you think about Toby being a father?

I feel like he wouldn't like having a child, or maybe he would, I don't know... do you think he would be a good father? (Let's suppose that hypothetically you have a daughter)

Have a nice Christmas, I love you! 💗

Father!Toby Rogers HeadCanons. Fem!Reader.

FIRST, I wanna say how fucking weird it was reading this ask at 5 am because I shit you not, before I went to sleep THIS VERY THOUGHT crossed my mind and I told myself I was gonna write this today. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. No, on a real note, glad we are on the same wave length. I LOVE THIS and thank you for requesting it! Have the most happiest of holidays yourself! <3 AND NO I LOVE YOU.

Content/Warnings; abortion, mentions of miscarriages, blood, birth, children, babies.

If you had asked him what he did on a specific Wednesday two weeks ago, he'd have no idea. That was one of the downsides to being a proxy; the memory loss and foggy mind. But fuck, did he remember the morning you told him you were pregnant. His heart fell through his ass, his skin colour turning fifty shades paler than usual.

Admittedly, his first reaction was to laugh. He'd snort in your face and narrow his eyes suspiciously toward you.

"Weird fucking thing to say."

Would be one of the first things he would say. Because you pranked him so often that he simply didn't believe you and it was such a weird fucking thing to say? What a weird prank?

But when you didn't laugh, his lips pursed nervously and he shifted from one foot to the other. The silence was louder than anything as you both stared at each other. The seriousness on your face, this was going too far.

"You're on birth control... right?"

And before he knew it, you were tearing up and right there and then he wanted a hole to swallow him up and eat him. This was bad, no, worse than bad; this was really fucking serious.

Slender would fucking kill him, he'd kill him first and then kill you. This wasn't supposed to happen, shit, he shouldn't have been fucking with you in the first place and now you were fucking pregnant?!

He wanted to panic, he wanted to dart out the door and leave forever but he was tied to Slender. Not just as a proxy, but a slave; a mere worker.

It was the look on your face too, he couldn't leave you? What kind of man were he? Not that he had a particularly good role model for what being a man was like

God forbid he turned into that man.

"Okay."

He would start -

"Okay, okay, ooookay."

He was reassuring himself more than he were reassuring you and his hands reached out to grip firmly on your shoulders. This didn't have to happen, he could.. well, you could fall down some stairs or better yet, drink some alcohol? That'll get rid of a baby, right?

Those thoughts, those dirty, putrid thoughts. What was he thinking? He was disgusted in himself but he couldn't help it, he was panicking.

He couldn't be a father, he was not made to be a father. What if he turned into him? What if he were to.. god forbid it, lay his hands on the babe? He was a dangerous individual, why should the softness of a baby stop him?

Perhaps it was because it were.. his baby. A life growing inside of... you.

"I can't do it."

He admitted.

"I am not fit to be- I CANNOT be- Our life- What we do- No, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you but-"

He was rambling. He was afraid, he couldn't bare to look at you because what if he were to suddenly lay a hand on you?

Sitting down with Toby and talking to him was the best option. To clear your minds, to form a plan - to figure out what to do and whether you both wanted this baby.

Toby was honest, so brutally honest that frankly it made you burst into tears.

"It's not that I don't want it- it's that I-.. I can't."

His words hurt so much but he promised he'd be there to help you each step of the way. Fuck, he'd even get Jack in an attempt to try and help with the termination.

But word travelled fast and it sure travelled quick.

Slender's rage was not shouting or screaming; it was the eerie silence or disappointing faceless stare he would give you. It was the nausea that followed, the anxiety that riddled itself in your blood stream.

And just like that, Toby's whole life was gone. You had just.. simply disappeared. And it killed him, the unknowing of what happened to you. It killed him to think that he could've possibly killed you.

But you were not dead. Slender had come to an... agreement.

You were to stay a proxy but you were to terminate the child and with that, he sent you on the other side of the forest. In a cabin, alone and to deal with your emotions.

Jack had came to aid you with the termination.

But something inside of you told you that.. you wanted this child. That perhaps this child was a chance of hope, of normality. That maybe you could escape.

And you hated to bare such a burden on a child that was not yet born.

It took a lot of convincing from Jack, a lot of persuasion to keep the baby and to do regular visits to ensure it was growing healthy. You were to birth the baby alone, for Jack couldn't risk getting caught. But he taught you well, how to handle it and of course gave you lots of books.

It was risky, going against Slender. He would know something was up, especially since you had not come back as quickly as he had expected.

So Jack lied for you, he hated it but did it nevertheless. What was he going to lose?

He told Slender you were in a coma and that he needed to do regular checks to ensure you were alive.

Slender wouldn't know, fuck, Slender wasn't human - so the lie worked perfectly.

The pregnancy was rough. Unwelcoming. You vomited everything up, you were unable to gather firewood due to the fatigue - so on most nights you would be freezing alone.

A part of you didn't expect the baby to survive. That you would miscarriage.

But weeks slogged into months and you were bursting.

And you had to do this alone.

You didn't count how long you were in labour for, but it felt like for days.

So much blood, that something was wrong and you just knew it.

But you pushed through, with each book Jack had given you being an aid.

The baby was born during the night.

And she did not cry. Nor weep, nor whine.

Your heart dropped.

You were slumped on the cabin floor, blood pooling around your thighs and knees as you doubled over. There, on the towels beneath you, were the child. Pale, small.

If it weren't for the shock, you would've moved instantly. But you couldn't. All you could do was watch in disbelief, your head glazed in sweat.

But motherly instincts kicked in quick.

And you reached for the scissors, cutting the cord and making haste to save your daughters life.

Your daughter. A girl. You had no idea what the gender were but it were evident as you helplessly rubbed the babes back, hoping to clear some airways to hear that cry.

Relief washed over you, a cry that would've seen irritating for some; music to your ears.

You had a daughter - she was alive!

It took Jack a couple months until he passed by again, he was on his rounds locally and knew he needed to check up on you. A part of him expected to find you dead and half of him prepared himself to the smell of death as he itched closer toward the cabin. The smell of the rotting corpse either being you, the child or both.

But there was a new smell. A sweeter smell.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised when he discovered the cooing child in your arms but he were.

You had named her Lyla.

And you ached for Toby.

Jack couldn't vouch for the coma lie anymore and he knew that soon you were to be caught.

So, he did what he thought were best. He dragged Toby's sorry ass here. And it took a lot of convincing.

Toby succumbing to depression at the idea of losing you. Spending most days in bed, grieving.

So, when he walked into the cabin, he quite literally dropped to his knees, it was like everything inside him had been healed.

"You're alive-?!" Toby choked out. A part of him believed he were dreaming. His eyes scanned every fibre of your being, your hair, eyes, lips and.. the baby in your arms. His mouth hung agape and you couldn't help the stream of tears that came flooding down your cheeks. The brunette couldn't lie, he couldn't say that you looked well because you didn't. You looked.. so hungry, so weak and yet this beautiful child looked so healthy. "You- is that- am I?" All you could do was nod to his words as you approached him, Toby barely able to find the courage to look at the child in your arms. No, he had to make sure you were real first. His hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing over your cheekbones and there he smashed his lips against your own.

It took a lot of explaining and Toby was.. well, in shock for an hour or two as he tried to come to terms with it all. The idea that you did this.. alone. That you carried this child alone for months, that you gave birth alone. He should've been there, he would've been in a heartbeat!

But that voice in the back of his head reminded him of the words he spoke to you on the day that you announced you were pregnant. Oh, how they were not true.

Because as soon as he glanced at the baby, he knew in that moment that he wanted to be.. a father. Well, he wanted to try.

"She's beautiful.." he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought back the lump in his throat. Toby reached out but stopped himself. What if even a mere touch would make the baby disappear? What if.. somehow, he hurt her?! His expression pained as he hesitated, between wanting to love but being too afraid to do so. The both of you exchanged glances, your own look encouraging him silently. You trusted Toby, despite his nature, despite what he does; you knew he would never hurt her. And you relayed those very thoughts with a look alone as you gently urged the little bundle toward him. Toby wanted to decline but slowly, he took the baby within his own arms. He was awkward, freezing and sitting as still as he could, like she were made out of glass. It made you laugh. "You're not going to hurt her," you reassured with words this time. "But what if the day comes that I do?"

When Toby found out his daughters name were Lyla, he broke down into tears. He was crying so much that he kept calling himself 'such a little bitch' between each sob.

It was pretty funny.

But you didn't laugh, you just rubbed his shoulder reassuringly as he sobbed tears over his daughter.

Which prompted Lyla to whine softly.

And then Toby cried more because he thought he hurt her. Shit, this man was more hormonal than you were.

It took Toby many weeks to adjust to this new lifestyle and he tried his best to form a bond with his daughter. You had the pleasure of nine months to form a bond, Toby had no time to prepare at all.

But it was hard because every time he looked at her, his heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

She was too perfect, too beautiful and anxiety consumed him at the thought of losing her. He had just got you back!

And you were the two girls in his life he loved ever so dearly.

So, he insisted that he looked after her more. Despite the fact that every time he held her, he wanted to fucking die. He was too damn anxious for this shit.

Admittedly, as weeks turned into months, you were thankful for Toby's willingness to parent more often.

But it was hard at the start

It seemed Lyla hated Toby and it frustrated Toby each time she would cry whenever she were in his arms

She was clingy, and you understood both of their emotions.

So when Lyla was asleep, Toby would feel his emotions get the better of him too. He would be angry, but his anger turned more into sadness as he stormed off into the wilderness for some alone time.

And this happened often. Toby needed time and you understood this, a part of you feeling guilty for thrusting this parent role upon him so suddenly - especially after he expressed his discomfort with the idea of being a father.

But it was still early days.

And you were unsure on what happened that particular night but when Toby came back from his usual walks, he was a different man.

And when he gently scooped Lyla up into his arms, it seemed she noticed that too.

Perhaps it was the confidence? Or how calm he appeared?

Whatever it was, it seemed now they were inseparable.

The love in his gaze as he rocked Lyla gently in his arms, like he was holding his entire world and nothing was going to take that away from him.

Well, that was until Slender found out.

And it turned into a literal shit show.

The way Jack came storming into the cabin, bursting your little bubble you had created, your idea of a happy, normal family disappearing as quickly as you had dreamt it.

The panic on Toby's face as he knew.

And you knew.

You expected worse, but Slender was... forgiving.

You were unsure what was said, whether Jack had swayed his mind or perhaps if Toby promised some unspoken promise.

But the cabin you had given birth in was to become your home.

On one condition.

You were banished. No, you would not go back to society - especially not after the things you know and had seen, but you were to stay here until your death. Which would not be a peaceful death, but that day would come. For now, Lyla was fine and despite your worry about her future; Slender agreed that she would be fine.

You did not trust the entity's words. But you were thankful nevertheless.

"How the hell did you get so big?!" You heard Toby yell from the living room, Lyla's giggles followed. From the corner of your eye, Toby spun her around in the space of the living room. There was no denying that the scene warmed your heart, but also made you chew the bottom of your lip anxiously.

Toby always said that you worried about her too much and maybe you did, but fucking hell... if her ankle caught the table or her head on the wall! Rushing over, you quickly waved your arms out. "Whoaa, okay, hold on- she's gonna hurt herself or get sick-!" you quickly spoke, trying to pitch your voice a little louder than Lyla's giggles. Toby stopped momentarily, Lyla in his arms and he looked at you with a questioning look. "She's fine, see?" Toby held her out and she flopped in his arms, almost looking as if she were about to drop on the floor and instinctively you threw your hands out to catch her. The brunette could only chuckle as he bundled her up close to his chest. "You worry too much." Those same words again and you rolled your eyes, a soft crinkle of irritation evident in your brow. Lyla was.. fine and perhaps you did worry too much, but Toby didn't really understand the concept of.. gentle playing. Like the times he'd throw her in the air, it make you wanna vomit at the idea of her hitting her head on the roof, or god forbid - he drops her. She was too little for this roughness and deep down, she'd always be your little baby. But Lyla was nearly two and it broke your heart to admit that, as much as you enjoy watching her grow.

And she preferred playing with Toby than with you. Mostly because she was a carbon copy of Toby himself. From the nose to the hair colour. She had your eyes though, so screw you Toby.

Toby became the very man he promised himself he would become, the very father he wished he had himself.

Loving and caring. Lyla was most certainly Daddy's little girl and Toby wore that badge with pride.

If it weren't for the circumstances and for the fact that Toby does not own a wallet he'd have little pictures of his daughter nestled away inside the pocket of his wallet.

Despite the bumpy start, Lyla couldn't get enough of Toby and he ensured that every night he'd read her a bedtime story. He'd even fall asleep himself sometimes just beside her bed, other nights just wanting to sit close in case something were to happen.

Admittedly, a part of you worried that Toby was.. too attached to her.

But whenever they were together, Toby was healing something inside of him that he thought could never be healed.

And essentially, he was living a childhood he had always wished for through his own daughter.

Eventually, Lyla blossomed into a teenager and it was.... hell.

"I fucking hate this cabin, I hate being here! Why can't we be normal! What's with all this off the grid shit!" The voice yelled from down the hall. Oh, she wasn't wrong, Lyla had every right to be pissed but having to live with an angsty teenager that hated everyone and everything was a lot worse.

And Toby never, NEVER, did the punishments.

Just... strict words.

No, he couldn't trust himself, so let you deal with it.

But at times he would find himself taking Lyla outside for a walk to talk to her. To let her know that he was there if she wanted to talk.

And yes, Toby does 100% sneak her out to go to the nearest town.

All in all, Toby would be, against all odds, the best father he could offer. Though I do see him not wanting kids at all. I also HC that all the proxies are infertile anyway.

But if it were to play out, it'd probably be something like this. Toby would be the cool dad where you could just about get away with some stuff. Toby would also be one of those guys where he claims he hates the cat kid and then forms such a close bond with the cat kid.

Oh, and is this man protective of his children too. !

Very much refers to his children as 'sperm pet.' Or he pulls a Kratos and he's kinda like 'get 'ere, boy/girl.'

I RAMBLED TOO MUCH

I feel like I didn't really answer your question

I'm sorry. I will write more about this in the future though.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #fuck i wrote so much im so sorry #this man could get me pregnant and i would say thank you #nah on a real note FUCK THEM KIDS FR

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 3 months ago

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Let me stay small, please (let me wait a little longer)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, comfort

warnings: slytherin reader, you grow and you change and you can't really stop it, the world spins on and all that, you can go back to the past but no one's there anymore, guys I promise it's actually very lighthearted I'm just going bonkers rn

a/n: it's autumn and I'm so happy this is my time this is my moment. I'm posting this from my phone and I'm so scared that the formatting is fucked pls tell me

A cool breeze blows by and you know that if you could see Sirius's face, if your head wasn't resting against his shoulder with your eyes fluttered closed, you'd be able to see the concerned frown that you're sure is tugging at his lips. His jacket was draped over your shoulders ages ago and he pulls at it now, tucking you further into the warmth of it as you press against his side.

"I won't freeze, you know," you murmur, admittedly half asleep. You hear him scoff, another gust of wind blowing through and rattling the leaves on the trees, sending them spiralling down in flashes of oranges and reds down to where you're sitting.

"It's getting colder," Sirius points out, and your slow, sleepy state makes it difficult for him to embody his usual loud, snippy tone. "It won't do any of us any good if you catch a cold right as the semester's starting, sweet thing."

"Well," you drawl quietly, letting your eyes flutter open so that you can tilt your head back and look up at him. "You'll do my homework for me if I do get sick, won't you, baby?"

"I will not," he sniffs indignantly. "And neither will Remus, before you even ask him. You know he'll just bring your books to bed and help you from there."

"Whatever," you say as you wave your hand dismissively and blow a puff of air from your cheeks. "James will do it for me."

"Well, probably, yes," James's chipper voice makes the two of you look up as he and Remus join you, settling against the huge oak tree that you and Sirius had been leaning against. "But what am I doing for you, love?"

"My homework," you clarify. "But only if I get sick."

"Why would you get sick," Remus frowns, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Hm, no reason," you shrug absently, and Sirius huffs rather dramatically at your dismissal.

"Well, good," James plows on. "Now that we're all back together, there's no time for any of that." He flicks you ever so gently on the forehead as he speaks, that familiar teasing tilt colouring his voice as he grins. You roll your eyes and relax further into Sirius, knowing that James is likely already planning some sort of prank or party or god knows what else.

"Speaking of," Sirius chimes in, bumping his shoulder a bit to get your attention as Remus settles on his other side and curls into him, leaving James to sit in front of you and pick leaves and grass blades off of your pants for you. "I haven't heard anything about Slytherin's first party yet - what's that about, no housewarming this year?"

"Well, we were talking about it," you muse, shrugging a bit as the three of them stare at you and blink owlishly at your words. "It's our turn to host the Halloween party this year and you know we always go all out for that. I don't know, we just thought it might be a bit much to do the two back-to-back." Sirius sniffs at your words, pursing his lips like he's trying not to say something that he knows will egg you on as Remus leans forward to look at you better.

"Well, I wouldn't know…" he begins, and your eyes narrow at the teasing mirth that's entered his voice. "But last year Gryffindor hosted the Halloween party and we still managed to do both, but I guess that's different." You stand up abruptly at his words, brushing stray leaves off of you as you begin to stomp back towards the castle, the three of them scrambling to stand amidst their laughter and chase after you.

"Love, where are you going?" James calls as he jogs to catch up to you, standing in front of you so that he can walk backwards as you continue to march on.

"Oh, I just have a party to plan - you know, Slytherin housewarming party and all that, lots to do," you say flippantly, scowling as you hear Remus laugh and Sirius cheer from somewhere behind you. You do slow your pace, though, as you walk through the courtyard, letting the three of them fall into step with you once more.

"You should let me help with the playlist," Sirius offers smugly, but you just shove him with your shoulder in response, his jacket still hanging off of your frame.

"Make your own playlist - don't you have our own party to plan?" you quip. He just laughs, though, as Remus slings an arm around your shoulders.

"And make sure it's not on the same night as ours, my love," he says helpfully, something mischievous twinkling in his eye as he pulls you closer. "We wouldn't want any competition with attendance - somebody's bound to get their feelings hurt."

"You three, most likely," you tease back, but James reaches from where he's walking behind you to pinch at the back of your thighs, delighted when you make an embarrassing sort of sound and turn briefly to smack him on the shoulder.

"Really, though," he adds as you turn for one of the many winding staircases heading down to the dungeons. "We need to be able to go to both, so just -"

"We'll do it the weekend after yours," you say in defeat, stopping to spin around in the deserted stairwell to look up at him. "Happy?"

"Very," James grins, leaning down to press a quick little kiss of victory to your lips as Sirius frowns.

"That's not fair," he chimes in. "That means you get to see ours first and plan ahead."

"I think I've already seen yours first, babe," you say pointedly, making Remus snort and bury his face in your hair to hide a laugh while Sirius flushes crimson and turns his head away.

"Anyway," he barrels on. "Why not just do things the same way we did them last year?"

"Because…" you shrug, watching as James pats a hand rather consolingly onto Sirius's head. "It's not last year. This year's different - it's new and everything's changing and we might as well follow suit."

Things… quiet down a bit at that, everything settling as you shift on your feet and Remus tangles his fingers with yours in a nervous sort of habit. Outside of the stairwell, other students can be heard laughing and gossiping about the new academic year and everything that they think will come with it.

"It doesn't have to," Sirius says stubbornly. "Why can't things just stay the same?"

"I don't know," you say softly as James runs a hand through Sirius's hair. "I think things change even if we don't want them to. I'm not sure we have much control over it."

Sirius looks at you a bit imploringly for a moment before letting his eyes flit over the other two - at the messy curls of James's hair where it's grown more over the summer and at the height of Remus as he stands taller than he did last year. Sirius is sure, even if he doesn't want to admit it, that he'd find changes in himself as well if he dared to look in a mirror.

But then he looks at you and, although you've undoubtedly changed as well, your eyes still look at him with love and patience and trust, and he feels his shoulders drop just a bit in defeat - and maybe, just a little, in comfort, as well.

"Well," he huffs, crossing his arms and pretending to scowl at you even as he eyes soften. "Just don't steal any of our party ideas."

"Like I'd need to," you quip back, spinning on your heel and continuing down the spiralling stairs. "If anyone's doing the stealing, it'll be you lot taking ideas from us."

Three indignant voices ricochet off of the stone walls as they chase after you, shouting and carrying on about the insult of it all. You step a little surer, though, and laugh a little louder, and as Sirius catches up to you and drops a gentle kiss to your forehead, you're not sure you mind the changes. You're not sure that it matters, really, how much the world spins outside when everything right here is just the same as it always has been.

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months ago

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Celebrity Crush, Table for Two

Part 2 of Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You go on a date with your celebrity crush after meeting him in uniform. 1.2k+ words of fluff!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

A/N: Thanks for the idea @anonymousmuffinbear! I hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading and all of your kind words!🤍

You sigh as you fall backward onto your couch. The past week has been busy and stressful, so you have had no time to relax. Now that you're caught up with work, you can finally catch up on everything you’ve wanted to do. Which, admittedly, isn’t much. With your remote, you scroll through your favorite streaming app to find something to watch. A new true crime documentary catches your eye, and you suddenly remember something. Tim Bradford gave you his number, and you haven’t done anything with it.

Before you can find his contact, your phone rings with a call from one of your friends. You love her but do not want to talk or hang out tonight.

“Hello,” you greet, despite every instinct telling you not to answer.

“Hey, girl! We’re going out for mini golf and dinner, are you in?” she asks.

“Not tonight. I’m exhausted, but I’ll try to join next time.”

“Okay, no worries. Get some rest! Oh, hey, how’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim?”

“No, Rick Castle- yes! Tim!”

“I don’t know,” you admit, picking at your blanket. “I haven’t called him yet. I was about to text him.”

“Don’t text him, call him! You’ve already made that Greek god wait a week for you.”

“He’s probably busy.”

“Call him.”

You can’t argue again before she hangs up on you. As you find the right contact, you shake your head and click the button to text Tim. Tim is a cop, and you will not risk interrupting him in the middle of something important. So, you type out a quick message, hit send before you can overthink it, then set your phone aside and start the documentary about the Hillside Strangler.

“Should I have signed the text?” you ask aloud. You only wrote About that thanks over dinner…

As you wonder if Tim will know who it’s from, your phone buzzes with an incoming message. Tim’s name catches your attention, and you hold your breath as you read his text.

Tell me when and where.

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement, and you’ll never admit to anyone that you bounce up and down on your couch out of pure excitement as you tap out your reply. In a few minutes, you have a dinner set for tomorrow with your celebrity crush at one of LA’s many restaurants. As the narrator sets the scene for a vicious murder on the screen before you, you fall back on the couch with a smile because you have a date with your celebrity crush.

“What am I supposed to wear?” you grumble as you look through your closet. “Is this even a date? Or just a chance to thank him again?”

You’ve only seen Tim in his uniform, but you know he will look amazing no matter what he wears. On the bright side, he’ll one-up me even if he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, you think. You stop as you pull a hanger forward. The perfect outfit was right in front of you the whole time. It just took an hour of stressing to find it.

Soon after, you enter the restaurant and look around, impressed by the atmosphere. More impressive, however, is Tim Bradford smiling at you from beside the hostess stand. He walks toward you, proving that you are right. The man can’t look bad, but he knows how to dress.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says.

“You do, too,” you answer. “Or handsome? You’re both- I… Thanks for meeting me.”

“Are you ready?”

You nod, and Tim offers his arm. With your arm looped through his elbow, you follow him to the table with your eyes on his face the entire time. Tim smiles at you as he pulls your chair out for you, and his fingers trail over your arm as he steps away.

“So,” Tim begins as he sits across from you. “What’s it like being one of the only women in the world that gets to go out with your celebrity crush?”

“Well, the only thing he’s done is help me to my seat and prove that he eavesdropped,” you murmur, looking down at the napkin in your lap.

“If you wanted a nice date, you should’ve chosen a different celebrity crush. I don’t have the best track record,” Tim admits.

You sigh dramatically but smile as you ask, “How soon can you get Aaron Thorsen down here to take over for you?”

“If I sent him a picture of how perfect you look, very quickly.”

“Tim, no one is a great date. Me included,” you promise, offering your hand across the table. “Besides, I thought I was just here to say thank you again and talk about the cases in the documentary.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “But I’ll need something in return. If I tell you about the cases, you have to tell me about you.”

“Interesting case details for boring personal details? That’s a terrible deal for you.”

“Depends on where you stand.”

You shrug, but Tim takes your hand as a silent promise that he wants to hear about you and get to know you. This is a date, after all.

“You’ve been in three documentaries,” you begin, ignoring the menu and everything else around you. “Which of those cases was your favorite?”

“Morris Mackey,” Tim answers without hesitation.

“Because of Officer Thorsen?”

“Amongst other things. It was an interesting investigation.”

“I have to ask-“

“If seeing Jake Butler dead freaked me out?”

You pinch your brows and finish, “Is your Sergeant really that funny?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tim answers. “Grey is one of the best cops and best men I’ve ever met. Your turn. Why did you approach me in the store last week?”

“Are you kidding? I loved those documentaries, I wasn’t kidding. When else am I going to get the chance to meet someone from one of those?”

“I’m glad you texted,” Tim admits.

“I’m glad you gave me your number. You know, my friends thought my crush on you was weird until they saw you.”

“The Abercrombie model hot cop?” Tim asks with a knowing smile.

“Their words.”

“Are you ready to order?” your waiter asks.

“Oh, right,” Tim says, looking at the menu. “We’re going to need one more minute. Thank you.”

The waiter nods, and you wait until he walks away to laugh. Tim shakes his head as he raises the menu, and you decide right then that this is the best date you’ve ever been on.

“Thank you, Tim. I had a great time,” you say as Tim walks you to your car.

“I did too,” he replies.

Tim slows and uses your joined hands to pull you toward him. He looks down at your shirt, visible beneath your sweater, and notices it’s the one he gave you from the store.

“Do you think I’m the kind of celebrity crush that can get a second date?” he asks.

You hum as you step closer to him. Slowly, you tilt your chin up and give Tim time to step back. He doesn’t, opting to meet you halfway. When your lips brush against Tim's, he has all the answers he needs. This is not going to be your last date. You raise your hand to his jaw, gently sliding your fingers against his skin before you move back, your other hand still in Tim’s.

Tim opens his eyes slowly as he asks, “Does this mean I have to watch true crime with you?”

You smile and laugh, squeezing Tim’s hand. “Oh, yeah. Who else can tell me how accurate everything is?”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you

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nyoomfruits · 2 months ago

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osctober day twenty nine

prompt: alpha pairing: lando/oscar a/n: snippet from the pregnant lando fic i'm writing, which TOTALLY ocunts for this prompt because it has alpha!oscar lmao

Life is so much better wrapped up in the buttery soft fabric of Oscar’s hoodie. Lando gets through three other admittedly boring meetings and an hour long conversation with Zak without any more bouts of nausea, although by the end of it he does feel exhausted, and his chest has this itchy painful feeling that’s getting really hard to ignore.

He contemplates just going home, but it’s not like there’s anything waiting for him there, so he holes himself up in one of the tiny flexible workspaces that are dotted around the MTC, and opens his laptop to stare mindlessly at some stuff the PR team asked him to look at.

Here’s the thing he did not consider. The flexible workspace area is pretty open plan. So if anyone were to walk by, they could see Lando sitting there quite easily. Anyone, really. Someone like, well. Oscar, for example.

“Uh,” Oscar says, roughly three meters away from Lando’s little table. “I, uh. Lando?”

Lando looks up from his laptop, dropping the hoodie string he’d been chewing on from his mouth. “Oscar, hey. ‘Sup?”

Oscar, meanwhile, is just kind of staring at Lando, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “You, uh. The uh,” he starts. Lando needs to have a talk with management, later. Clearly they’re overworking Oscar, based on the way he’s spacing out right now. “Hoodie?” Oscar eventually manages to stutter out.

Lando’s blood turns cold as he suddenly realizes what the problem is. The hoodie. He’s still wearing Oscar’s hoodie. Oscar was never meant to find out, but now he definitely has, with the way he’s staring at Lando like he’s some kind of alien. “Fuck,” Lando says, frantically wedging himself from behind the table. The second he comes closer to Oscar, Oscar takes a step back, takes a deep breath in through his mouth. “Fuck I am so sorry, it was just-“

And yeah. How is he going to explain this one? He can just lie and say he was cold, but then why. Why would he grab Oscar’s hoodie and not one of the million McLaren hoodies readily available? Besides, does he really want to lie to Oscar? Oscar, who’s never been anything but honest with him, has always treated him with kindness?

“Fuck,” Lando says again, “Really, this is. This is very embarrassing for me, actually, but uh. Your scent? It kind of helps? With the uh… Nausea and shit. I realized yesterday, when you helped me when I was puking and so uh. The hoodie was just there and I… Well. But you can have it back? Here let me-“

“Don’t,” Oscar says, almost like it gets ripped out of him, the second Lando tries to wrestle his arm out of one of the hoodie sleeves. “You don’t. You can keep it on. If it helps.”

He’s bright red, not making any eye contact with Lando, clearly uncomfortable, but. But he said. If he didn’t want Lando to wear his hoodie he would…. Right?

Lando tucks his arm back into the sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “This is like, super weird.”

Oscar shakes his head. “It’s fine. I know smells can be like, weird, when you’re pregnant, so it’s… I get it.”

#landoscar #i'm struggling with this fic rn but ack #hope to get back to it #drabble #snippet #osctober 2024

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justmeinadaze · 1 year ago

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Little Girl Gone (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is the story I mentioned yesterday! Trying something new for me but I hope y'all enjoy it. I've always found Mafia Eddie incredible sexy <3. This is an AU with a mixture of Stranger Things you will definitely recognize :). I wrote with the idea that Hawkins is a big city so keep that in mind lol

Warnings: Mafia Gangster Eddie/ Officer (slightly mean) Steve Harrington/ Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, use of the color system, degrading if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, etc.

ANGST, Obviously (and not just because I am me lol), Eddie runs a rival gang in Hawkins and is in love with Steve (Romeo and Juliet style), Steve mentions being jumped and Eddie retaliates getting hurt in the process, mentions of murders by Eddie, Reader takes care of them both performing surgery on the gangster, guns are pulled and our boys are threatened, cliff hanger ending because I can.

Word Count: 8284

"Little girl gone, got a gun from a gangster Run little girl, run little girl, bang, ha."

“Officer Steve Harrington.”, you read from his chart as you enter the exam room before flashing him a big smile. “I’m Dr. Y/L/N. How can I help you today?”

“My, uh, Captain said I needed to come get a checkup. I was wounded in the line of duty a few days ago.”

“Oh no. I’m really sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

“Does that matter?”, he snapped.

You dealt with sassy patients on the regular. It came with the territory especially in the area your office was located in. In this part of the city, your clinic usually catered to people who didn’t want to check in at a regular hospital because their name could get dinged for other offenses. You always felt like everyone deserved care so when you opened your clinic, you made sure to do what you could within the means and resources you had available.

Officers normally never entered your building but within these past few months you had seen them more and more frequently. You had heard rumors of a new gang in the area trying to make things more…democratic…so there was less chaos in the streets but in turn that brought more of a police presence because most of the people around here hated being threatened into submission reacting violently if need be.

Thankfully, you weren’t easily shaken so this admittedly good-looking man of the law raising his voice didn’t frighten you one bit.

“It does if you want me to assess you properly.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I like to be polite at first. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or should I mark in your file here that you refused to answer so your Captain can deal with you?”

Steve’s amber eyes scanned you over briefly before a small smirk painted his beautiful lips.

“I got jumped by one of the rival gangs in the area. Beat me up pretty good.”

Sitting in your wheely chair, you slid toward him and carefully lifted off his shirt, his face wincing as he lifted his arms. Large purple bruises were splattered along his ribs and around to his back. Just from the wounds alone, you could tell he was kicked and punched repeatedly. His face had some scratches and swelling but it looked like nothing compared to his upper torso.

“Oh wow. I’m so sorry. Did you go to the hospital?”

“I did. They did some X-rays and shit. Thankfully nothing was broken but, obviously, moving around has been hard.”

“Beside the bruising, have you experienced any other pain? Like a sharp stabbing pain in your side or anything like that?”

“Uh, no. Just emotional pain.”, he chuckles as his eyes look past you into a memory.

“Ok, I’ll get you some medicine I think will help as well as some cream to sooth the pain of those bruises and swelling. I’ll be right back.”

You weren’t gone long but as you were returning you could vaguely hear his voice through the door between you both.

“Naw, she said she’s going to get me some meds and shit…Baby! Seriously, you worry too much. I’m fine… No, NO. Don’t you dare go over there or I swear God—” Hastily, he hung up his phone when he heard you knock and reenter the room he was in. “Sorry. That was my, um, my boss checking in. Just reiterated what you told me.”

“Good. Now this will help with the pain…”, you instruct as you hand him some medication before flashing him the cream. “…and this will help with the swelling. Just put this on your bruises every six hours and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

Opening the bottle, you squeeze some of the medicine in your hand, and gently rub it along his admittedly muscular abs.

“You’re, um, going to feel it tingle a bit and feel warm but after a few moments it will cool down.”

That smirk you saw previously appeared on his lips again when he caught you staring as your hands slowly rubbed along his skin.

“That feels really good actually. Your hands not the cream.”

“Hm. I’m sure your girlfriend touches you enough.” Steve raises an eyebrow at your insinuation. “I mean unless you call your captain ‘baby’.”

A slightly nervous sigh leaves you as the officer’s grin grows and his eyes meet yours.

“Hm. Bad girl listening in on my phone calls. Do you always misbehave like that?”

“This is my clinic, Officer Harrington. I can do whatever I want especially when I have signs everywhere that say, ‘No Cell Phones in the Exam Room.’”

His palm abruptly takes hold of your wrist, pulling you closer to him till your nose was just above his own.

“This may be your clinic, honey, but these are my streets. I keep order here.”

“I think the gangs here would disagree.”

“Pfft, like you know anything about what goes on out there.”, he spits as he lets you go.

After throwing a scowl his way, you pretend to be preoccupied with washing your hands.

“I know that when I first moved here, the fatality rate in this area was extremely high until that new gang leader took over the Munson crew. I believe, if the rumors are correct, the new boss is actually the son of the old leader Al Munson. Since the son has taken over, oddly enough, the streets have become safer. More kids come out to play and I’ve seen less addicts in the last couple of months.”

As you dry your hands and turn to face him, you notice the hardened look on the officer’s face as he listens to you speak.

“I also know there have been more of a police presence on this side of town as well. I’ve seen a lot of innocent civilians put in ambulances or worse due to the push back of change. Tell me, Officer Harrington, which side are you on? Which gang did that to you? The Munson’s or The Carver’s?”

“I’m on the side of peace. That’s my job.”, he seethes through gritted teeth.

“Yeah… you’re good to go, officer. Have a nice day.”, you growl in annoyance as you leave the room without waiting for him to retort.

##############

Today had been an incredibly long day. After your appointment with Officer Harrington, you had back-to-back visits from so many clients just needing a little bit of help. Your mind was racing as you and your staff did what you could but the truth was you desperately needed more funding. You were running low on supplies and the equipment you had wasn’t the best. It killed you to see your patient’s sad faces when you strongly recommended they head to the nearest hospital for certain tests that you just couldn’t provide at that time.

Your mind was still racing as you began to gather your things to head out for the evening which is most likely why you didn’t even hear him till you exited your office and were met with a gun pointed at your face.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not…I’m not here to hurt you. We need help.”, Steve panted with a heavy breath as the weapon shook in his hand. He was still dressed in the uniform he was wearing when you last saw him but now it was stained in blood and sweat.

“I-I-I…”

Roughly, he took hold of your bicep and dragged you to your waiting room where another man was sitting with his head leaning against the wall. You knew he wasn’t a cop because he wasn’t dressed like the man beside you but instead in an expensive looking black suit with the white button up shirt underneath his jacket now stained with red. You noticed immediately his palm was holding his side and that area of his clothing was a darker shade than all the rest.

“I can’t help with a wound like that. He needs a hospital.”

“Oh you don’t say?”, he snarled as he tugged you to his chest. “If I could have taken him to a fucking hospital I would have! But I brought him to you, now HELP HIM!”

“Steven!”, the long-haired man grumbled as he looked your way. “Be nice. She’s just being…honest. Right, sweetheart?” He sighs when you nod and tries to get to his feet but the officer is quicker, running to his side to help him stand. “See, the thing is, princess, if I go to a hospital I’ll die anyway…because they will put me…in jail especially after they find out…what-what I did tonight.”

“What did you do?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter right now. He’s losing blood and fast!”

Swallowing nervously, you step forward to unbutton his shirt and examine the cut you found. He needed stitches as soon as possible and most likely a blood transfusion unless someone got to his wound fast enough. Gesturing them both to follow you, you power walk to an exam room and begin searching for supplies as Steve carefully places the man on the table. While he removes the bloody clothes from his top half, you prep a syringe.

“Is he allergic to anything?”

“No. What is that, that you’re giving him?”

“It’s a pain killer. It won’t be as strong as ones at a hospital but…”

As you stick the needle into his stomach just above his cut, he flinches causing Steve’s expression to flood with worry as he moves the man’s hair out of his face. After quickly cleaning the area, you let out a long sigh as you glance their way.

“Even with the shot, this is going to hurt a lot I’m afraid. I’ll try to go as fast as I can but, officer, if you can distract him that may help.”

The man on the table chuckles as he turns his head towards his friend.

“She keeps calling you ‘officer’. Did… you not tell her your name? Or did you… scare her too much to use it?” He cringes as he hisses once you begin sewing in his stitches. “You like to…pretend to be so badass…but we both know you’re a…sweetheart.”

“Pretend to be a badass, huh? You’re one to talk.”, Steve scolds in a light sounding tone as he softly places his forehead against his own. “Eddie, I told you not to go over there.”

“They tried to hurt what was mine…”, he growled low in his throat even making you pause for a moment before focusing again on your task. “They wanted to send a message, well, message received.”

“I could have handled it.”

Grabbing Steve’s cheeks roughly, he brings his lips to his own.

“No one takes my things and NO ONE hurts what’s mine. You belong to me, baby, and I promised I’d keep you safe.”

Finishing his sutures, you bandage him up and wrap some gauze around his lower waist.

“Thank you.”, he whispers exhaustedly as he extends his shaky hand towards you. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re safe and I promise neither of us are going to hurt you. I’m Edward Munson but you can call me Eddie.” Your eyes widen as you slowly back away from them causing Steve to rise to his feet. “Ah. I see you’ve heard of me. Then you know you can trust me.”

Eddie tries to stand as well but sways before Steve steadies him.

“You…you should be in a hospital. That wound needs to be looked after and you need to rest.”

“I can take care of him.”

“Steve…”

“No. No you can’t. That’s why you brought him to me.”, you sass in frustration as you try to display an air of confidence. Both men scan you over as they try to get a read on you as you continue. “If you refuse to go to a hospital, then give me your address and I can come—”

“No. No addresses. We can’t have you giving it to the police.”

“Oh you mean you?!”

You and Steve square off, tightening your stances as you glare at each other until Eddie laughed beside you both.

“Brave girl with attitude. I like it.”

“I don’t. Little girl needs to be put in her place.”

“I highly doubt you’re the man to do that.”, you sass.

“Yeah well good thing there’s two of us, honey, and trust me, whatever I start Eddie can definitely finish.”

Sighing, you fold your arms as you argue with the internal dialogue inside your head.

“You can come to my apartment but I have one condition. After he heals, I never want to see either of you again.”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Eddie finally nods.

“You have a deal, princess.”

############

“Um, I don’t have a spare room or anything but the couch is comfortable. Just make sure to stay on your back if you can.” Eddie nods as Steve places him down and hastily begins removing the gear attached to him. “Let me grab some blankets and pillows.”

Disappearing into your bedroom, you grab any extra bedding you had and began to head their way but paused when you heard them talking.

“Why are you being mean to her? I thought you said she took care of you.”

“She did. I just… I was worried about you. It’s my job to take care of you to, honey.”

“And snapping at the woman who’s trying to help will do what exactly?” Steve laughs through his teeth at Eddie question. “I think it’s because you like her.”

“Pfft what?”

“Oh, look at Officer Harrington blushing.”, the long-haired man teases as he reaches out to touch the boy’s face. “I know I just met her and she was busy saving my life but I can see why…”, he chuckles before wincing as he grabs his side.

“Are you alright?”, you ask as you come back to the living room and kneel down on your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve been through way worse than this.”

You take quick note of his wound before handing Steve the things you found, watching with fascination as he tosses the things for him to the side before placing the pillow on his lap and guiding the man back to lay down.

“If, um, if you notice it bleeding through or he starts getting a fever, come and get me immediately.”

The officer nods as he throws the blanket over Eddie and comfortingly rests his hand on his chest, his thumb gently running along the man’s tattooed skin.

***

Your alarm goes at 4am that morning, startling you as you shoot up right. Groggily, you shuffled to your bathroom and grabbed the items Eddie would need so you could change his bandages. Both men were fast asleep when you entered the living room, Steve still clinging to him with his other hand very close to where his gun was resting on the little table you had beside your couch.

“Mr. Munson?”, you whisper as you sit on the coffee table across from them. When he didn’t stir you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to visually take in one of the most notorious gangsters in the city. You had never seen a picture of him and he definitely wasn’t what you pictured when you heard the rumors from people in the clinic.

He did have an air of control surrounding him but his voice and face were incredibly soft especially when it came to Steve. You heard him get upset though so you imagined that amplified out in the streets and you hoped you never met that version of him. He had a lot of tattoos painting his upper torso that seemed completely random except for the symbol of his gang that was tattooed on many other men and women you had seen previously minus the tiny initials “S.H.” inscribed within the design.

Eddie was fairly muscular appearing more toned in his abs and upper arms. Slightly blocking your view was Steve’s massive palm over his chest, almost as if that was his way to make sure the man was still breathing. He had been exceptionally rude with you but with the gangster, he transformed before your eyes, becoming softer and listening to everything the other man said without question. They both obviously seemed to care strongly about each other which you found slightly amusing given their slight Romeo and Juliet story; one being a cop and the other a criminal.

“Mr. Munson.”

Extending your hand, you tried gently shaking his upper shoulder and in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and held you tightly as he raised his fist in the air prepared to defend himself. Swallowing nervously, you froze as his intense eyes scanned your own.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t…” Eddie promptly let you go and winced as he sat up in front of you.

“No, no. It’s ok. After what happened, I completely understand. I just need to check you out and rewrap your wound.”

“Would it be easier for you if we went to the table?”

“Oh, no, this is ok but I do have to turn on the light.”

Eddie follows your eyes as you glance towards Steve.

“Trust me, it won’t bother him one bit. I don’t think he’s had a consistent night’s sleep since he was hurt.”

“How long have you two been involved?”, you ask as you begin the task in front of you hoping to distract him as well from the pain.

“In my business or each other?”, he smirks when you breathily laugh. “Both answers are more or less the same. He had the balls to arrest me on a charge we both knew wouldn’t stick. I knew he was different when he tried to get me to flip sides and sell out my friends. Usually, cops knew better than to do that especially with me.”

The gangster paused when you tried to clean his cut, flinching as he gritted his teeth.

“What happened? Did he take you in?”

“No, I did when I let him fuck me handcuffed in the back of his cruiser.”, he chuckled, slightly surprised when you did as well. “We’ve been watching out for each other ever since. He’s actually not as big of an asshole as he seems. Steve just has a big heart and wants to take care of everything himself. He likes to be the big, strong man, you know? That’s why he’s been so short lately.”

“What happened there? He didn’t tell me; just said he was jumped.”

“I don’t think that’s something you should know. The less we tell you the better.”

“Mr. Munson, you, a well-known Mafia style gang leader, showed up at my clinic after hours with a police officer bleeding out. I think that line has been crossed.”, you grin up at him finding his eyes watching you again. “I assume it was someone from Carver’s side. You told Steve something about them sending a message.”

“Yeah… Jason Carver isn’t exactly a fan of mine even more so since I took over. My dad was always a…shoot first ask questions later which is why he’s in jail right now. He was sloppy and greedy like Jason. I don’t want to hurt people I don’t have to.” Leaning forward, you start wrapping the gauze around him but you can’t help to inhale the strong scent of cigarettes and cologne. You don’t see it but his own head tilts slightly, inhaling your shampoo from the night before when you finally had time for a shower and the regular smells of your office that attached to your skin.

Eddie’s lips ever so slightly grazed your shoulder that was exposed due to the tank top you were currently wearing causing you to shutter softly as you pulled back to cut the bandage.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”, he asked in a low tone that had you exhaling as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Mr. Munson, I work in a city filled with crime and scared citizens. I don’t really have the luxury of being afraid.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Calloused fingers reached out to grip the bottom of your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. “Even though I take no pleasure in it, I have hurt and killed people. I killed two people just last night. Carver got the idea in his head that roughing up the man I love would have me submitting to him and his whims. I’m not the submissive type and I made sure he knew that by slitting the throats of the two men that put hands on him. I don’t regret it and I’d do it again.”

“How did you get hurt then?”

“Unfortunately, Carver isn’t an idiot. He had more men appear and try to take us out. Steve showed up and someone pulled a knife… Let’s just say that someone got in a good attempt before I snapped his neck.”

The way he spoke about such violent things was so even, almost as if he could be reading from a grocery list. This was his every day and you could tell by his tone he knew it would continue to be. But there was something about him… something that made you feel safe.

“No, I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Munson.”

“I think under the circumstances, you can call me Eddie.”

A cell phone ringing pulled you both apart but didn’t stir the man it belonged to as he continued to snore with his head leaning over the back of the couch.

“Steve. Steven.”, the man called as he shook his arm rousing him from his deep sleep. “Your phone is ringing.”

Without opening his eyes, the officer reached into his pocket, producing his device, and placing it to his ear as he answered with gravelly “yeahs” and “mhmms”.

“I have to go in. Someone called in about the shooting on the eastside and they found Carver’s guys.” Rubbing his eyes and as if he forgot you were there, Steve tenderly kissed Eddie’s lips before rising to his feet and putting on all of his gear once more. “Please keep an eye on him and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I have to go to work.” Pausing, he exhaled heavily as he turned and flashed you an annoyed look. “I have to. It would look weird if I didn’t. I’ve never missed a day but if we leave early enough…I can bring him with me and keep him in my office.”

“Is it ok to move him that much?”

As if to prove a point, Eddie rose to his feet.

“I’ll be ok. I’m a quick healer. Don’t worry about us.”

###############

Thankfully, you didn’t have too many patients today so you were able to keep yourself locked in your office with the gangster you were attempting to hide. As soon as you brought him in, he fell asleep on your office couch, allowing you to leave him be so you could do what you needed.

As you were reading a chart however you heard giggling in the exam room beside your office and quickly went to investigate, finding Eddie sitting next to a child on the exam table making her laugh.

“Look, princess, you can’t trick me like that.”

“It’s thumb war! You have to be stronger.”

“Ok, best two out of three.”

“Kylie, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”, you beam trying not to startle either of them.

“Hey Dr. Y/L/N! My mom told me to come down to see if you had any more samples of my inhaler.”

“Oh, honey. I don’t. I’m so sorry. I usually try and save one for you but I had another patient who had an emergency so I had to give it to him.”

“Why do you need an inhaler? Is it for the other people whose breath you take away because you’re so adorable?”

Kylie giggles as she turns towards Eddie and blushes.

“No! I have asthma. My mommy brings me here to get my medicine because we can’t afford the stores.”, she sighs as her head hangs.

The man’s eyes meet your sympathetic ones before softly smiling and giving the little girl his attention again.

“Hey. Can you keep a secret?” The small child nods in earnest making his smile widen. “Have you heard of a little convenience store called Cunningham’s Corner? It’s about a 5-minute walk from here. Go to that store and ask for Chrissy. Tell her Eddie sent you and you need an inhaler. She’ll give it to you for free.”

Kylie’s eyes widen as if this man just told her a fairytale.

“Free?”

“Mhmm. But you can’t tell anyone! Because then other people will take advantage.”

After giving him a hug, she jumps down from the table and starts to head for the door.

“Hey! Here. Give Miss Cunningham this paper when you tell her what you need, ok?”, you instruct as you hand her a prescription with the name of what she needs.

“Ok. Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N!”

“Thank you. That was really nice of you.”

Rising from his seat, he waddles with you back to your office.

“It’s not a problem. I heard her coughing and crying so I wanted to make sure she was alright. Is she a regular?”

“Yeah and, unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for her to come by herself. Her mom is a single mother who works 60hrs a week trying to make ends meet. They came to me when she started having her symptoms but there’s only so much I can do here with my resources.”

“Are you underfunded?”

“Yeah. I do what I can but because of where I’m located…”

“Why don’t you move to a better location?”

“I can’t do that. I can’t leave these people. They need someone to help them since a regular clinic would immediately turn them away since a lot of them have no money or no insurance.”

“You’re a very kind woman, Y/N.”

Flashing him a smile, a knock makes you jump as you quickly get up to see who it is.

“It’s Hawkins PD Detective Jim Hopper. I’d like to have word with you for a moment.”

Right as you scan your room, Eddie hides himself in front of you against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen when you finally open the door between you and the gentleman.

“May, uh, my we come in?”

“We?”, you ask as your eyes flick to the wide, stern eyes of Steve behind him. “What’s this about, detective?”

“I don’t know if you heard but we had a gang related fight in the area and we got some intel that Edward Munson may have been severally wounded.”

“Ok? And what does that have to do with me?”

“It wasn’t far from your clinic so we thought, maybe, you heard something or saw something?”

“What time was this?”

“Around 7-8pm.”

“My clinic closes at 6 so—”

“I mean, as a doctor though I’m sure you work late hours—”

“Not last night.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie mime with his hand for you to calm down a bit and you close your eyes as you sigh before responding again. “I’m sorry, Officers. It’s just been a rough week. I left early last night to come in early this morning and do some work. I haven’t heard or seen anything but I can be on the lookout.”

Hopper nods, tilting his hat as he begins to walk away.

“I’m just going to give her some details and information so she knows what to be on the lookout for exactly.”, Steve informs his colleague who confirms before disappearing to lean against the waiting room desk.

Pulling out his notepad, he steps closer to you pretending to write things down.

“Where is he?”, Steve whispers, smirking when your eyes flick to the side. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“You like it.”, Eddie murmurs. “Should we be worried?”

“No, a few of Carver’s guys are in the morgue.”

You had seen many people come and go during your time as a physician so when the officer shook his head looking away down the hallway, you could tell he was lying.

“What aren’t you telling him?”

Steve’s angry, amber eyes met yours as an annoyed grunt left his lips.

“Nothing. Stay in your lane, doctor.”

“Hey.”, Eddie growled low beside you. “Watch your tone. You wouldn’t keep anything from me would you, Steven?”

“I was questioned this morning seeing as how I was jumped and then suddenly men from Carver’s gang show up dead.”, the cop sighs. “I told you not to go over there.”

You could feel the tension rising between them but you were still being watched and couldn’t risk the gangster being seen. Eddie was slipping to far in his own frustration to think that far as he began pushing off the wall to scold his partner but you quickly placed your hand on his chest lightly pushing him back down.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“No.”, he responds to your question. “But I am being watched a lot closer hence the detective.”

“And your bruises?”

“Huh?”

“You were hurt to. Is the medicine helping at all?”

Steve’s eyes take in your face clocking in your genuine concern.

“It is actually. Thank you.” When you smile back at his answer a tooth filled grin paints his features. “I, um, I should be done here by about 7 or so. I’ll head to your place, come get him, and then…we’ll be out of your hair.”

#############

“Ok, so, make sure to keep this clean and if you find yourself in any excruciating pain or like I told Steve if you get a fever come back to me so I can take a look.”

“Hm. I thought you never wanted to see us again.”, Eddie teased as he carefully put back on the shirt you gave him.

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I want you to get sick or die or whatever.”

The gangster’s smile grew as he watched you blush.

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend or husband or whatever?”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“Because if you were our girl, there’s no way I would have gone two days without calling or checking in and I’d definitely have something to say if I found two men sleeping here.”

“Our girl?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Any woman I date is with Steve as well and most can barely handle my attitude and temper let alone both of ours.”

“You seem nice enough to me.”

“I can be mean when I want to be.”

“I’m always busy…to answer your question. A lot of relationships I’ve had can’t handle my schedule.”

“Hm, I understand that. Steve and I have conflicting schedules all the time.” Eddie’s eyes watch you as you gather the trash from cleaning his cut and head towards the trashcan to avoid his gaze. “But we make time for each other. That’s what you do when you care about someone.”

“Yeah, well, I guess no one really cares about me.”, you sassily smirk as you sigh and wash your hands in the sink.

Feeling the energy shift, you turn coming chest to chest with the man himself.

“I care about you. Steve cares about you.”

“I’m pretty sure Officer Harrington hates me.”, you giggle but it tapers off when his face remains stoic.

“He doesn’t. He wouldn’t have brought me to you if he didn’t trust you.”

“You don’t know me, Eddie.”

“I know enough.”

Shaking your head, you laugh again trying to lighten the intense atmosphere as you begin to walk back towards the living room but his hand promptly grabs your bicep and moves you till your standing in front of him once more.

“You saved me and helped him. I just watched you all day take care of people who can’t normally afford care. You have a kind heart and you’re extremely beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?”

A knock on your door startled you but not him as he continued to stare down at you waiting for an answer. Silently, you allowed Steve entry who immediately took in your rattled appearance.

“Everything ok?”

“Mhmm. I was just asking Y/N if she knew how beautiful she was.”

His gorgeous, honey hues widen slightly as if he was surprised before turning his attention back to you.

“You know you are, right?”

“I-I think you both should leave.”, you whisper with little to no confidence in what you were saying.

“Is that what you want?”, he mused as he strolled further into your apartment. “Because we can leave right now and like you asked, disappear from your life forever. Or, maybe, you can let us thank you properly.”

“I thought you didn’t like me…said you wanted to put me in my place.”

They both chuckle making your face turn a deep crimson in embarrassment.

“Baby, that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means that I think I’d have a lot of fun playing with you.”

“Playing with me?”

Steve subtly nods his head as Eddie slowly moves closer to the living room where you two were standing.

“Teasing you, kissing you, taking care of you…taking control of you and your gorgeous body till you’re begging me to let you cum.” Tilting his head, his eyes meet yours as his fingers caress your face. “When’s the last time you had someone take care of you?”

The other man comes up behind you, sandwiching you between them as he gently places his palm on your stomach under your blouse.

“I asked you something, honey.”

“It’s been a while.”, you jest making Steve smirk as Eddie stepped closer to you till your back was to his chest. His hand continued to run along your skin with his fingers just barely floating under the waistband of your pants before coming back up to rub your stomach. “I’m scared.”

Everyone freezes in place at your words but as the gangster tries to drop his hand, you quickly catch it and hold it in place back on your tummy.

“Of us?”, he asks.

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Resting his head on your shoulder, his palm wonders again this time going further as you feel him slide into your underwear and cup his hand around your heat.

“You won’t, sweetheart. I promise, you’re safe with us. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“And neither will I. I can protect you from getting in any kind of trouble with the law or anything like that. You have two men here who control both sides of the coin…” As Steve’s voice dropped into a more and more seductive register, Eddie’s lips gently pecked your shoulder and up to your neck as his finger graze your clit while gliding them through your folds.

“You just need to let go and let us control you.”

“Fuck.”, you groaned as he slid two of his digits into your core.

“Is that a yes?”, Steve chuckles sassily as he watches your eyes close as you lean your head against his boyfriend.

“I think so, Harrington, because pretty girl here is just dripping all over my hand.”

“Yeah? We need to hear her say it though. Do you want us to take care of you tonight, honey?”

“H-He—mmm—Eddie can’t with his…with his cut.”

“Oh trust me, Y/N, that won’t be an issue. Now answer my question, please.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to take care of me.”

As if they could read each other’s minds, Eddie’s hand slipped out of your pants and Steve picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried you to your bedroom.

“Ow! Something in your vest is stabbing me, Officer Harrington.”, you giggle before he tosses you onto your mattress.

“Sorry. I forgot to take this stuff off. I was blindsided by a stupid question when I came in.”, he grinned as he began removing his equipment and placed them on your bedside table.

Eddie carefully climbed in and you hastily set up pillows so he could lean back comfortable against your headboard.

“Thank you. I don’t think that question was ever answered. DO you know how beautiful you are?”

“Sometimes I need reminding.”, you sigh as your nervous eyes meet his soft ones.

“We can do that, sweetheart.”

Taking hold of your cheeks, he brought your lips to his and your body ignited with an electricity you had never felt before as his lips carefully but firmly mingled with yours. Steve’s laugh echoed through your room as he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you away from the gangster to bring you in front of him at the edge of the bed.

He had taken off his shirt and out of habit as a doctor you scanned his bruises to make sure he was ok. Clocking your care once again, his fingers gripped your chin and brought your mouth to his own.

“It’s ok. I’m still a bit sore but you helped me a lot.”

As he continued to kiss your lips, you allowed him to undress you making him pause when you were fully naked in front of them.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I told you, princess…beautiful.”, Eddie grinned.

Smiling widely at their compliments, your hands roamed Steve’s chest, kissing a trail along the way till you reached his belt and fumbled with the barrier before fully pushing down his pants. You gasped when his cock sprang free causing them both the chuckle again as you practically gapped at the size.

“I know. It was a shock to me to.”, the gangster teased as the officer stuck out his tongue playfully.

“You liked it. And I promise, honey, you’ll like it to.”

Gripping the base, he held his mushroom tip towards your lips and moaned when your tongue darted out to lick the small beads of precum that had begun to leak. Steve pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch as you slowly wrapped your mouth around him and gradually began bobbing your head.

“Shit. Atta girl. Flatten that tongue. J-Just like that.”

Another set of hands softly ran down you back and over your ass before the cool sting of metal hit your behind.

“Did you like that, pretty girl? Did you like Eddie spanking you?”, the officer asked when you moaned loudly.

Fingers glided ever so slightly through your pussy lips and even you couldn’t deny hearing the squishy sound of your slick that obscenely filled your bedroom.

“Oh Stevie. She definitely enjoyed that.”

“Yeah? You like it a bit rough, little girl?”

Eddie guided his middle and ring fingers inside of you eliciting a mewl from your throat that had the man inside of your mouth grunting with pleasure.

“Fuck. I think…I think you can take me a bit deeper.”

Thrusting his hips a bit, you gag around him spilling drool and spit down his length as you mentally take note of the fact that that wasn’t all of him you choked on.

“Come on, honey, take more. I know you can, baby.”

Tears stream down your face as you try but barely take more of him in. Gripping your jaw, he pulls out of your mouth and leans his face in front of yours as his eyes search yours.

“Green, good. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Fuck… green.”

“Ok, then why are you crying? We haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“I-I-I wanna take more. I want to make you feel good to.”

You heard your tone as it came out of your mouth but you barely recognized it. You sounded like a child who was told she couldn’t play outside because it was raining. What was it about these men that transformed you in this way? In relationships or even one-night stands, you never cared about this kind of thing. Usually, men never complained and you were never fully satisfied after they left resorting to your vibrator to get you the rest of the way.

But for whatever reason, you wanted to impress them. You desperately wanted them to feel good because some part of you had a feeling that they were going to do the same for you.

Steve’s eyes softened as Eddie’s fingers slowed inside of you.

“Be nice to her, babe. She’s got a good heart and she did take care of us.”

“Can you keep your mouth open for me, pretty girl?” He grins when you nod your head, wiping your tears with his thumb before kissing your cheek. “And you are making me feel good. Your mouth feels fucking amazing.”

You beam with pride as you do what he asked, whimpering when Eddie began building you up again.

Holding your head still, Steve guided his cock back between your lips, doing the slow thrusts he was doing before as you kept your mouth closed around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as his pace began to quicken, his tip occasionally hitting the back of your throat.

“There you go, baby. T-That’s it. See? Doing—fuck—doing so well. Now, stay still.”

As he began fucking your face, the gangster matched his pace making you groan as obscenities flowed from the officer’s mouth.

“Shit. Take it, little girl. That’s right. You love the taste of my cock in your throat, don’t you?” Reaching over you, his hand calm down hard on your ass and your palm pushed at his legs signaling you needed air. “Are you gonna cum? Ask him, Y/N. Ask Eddie if it’s ok.”, he commanded as he forced your head towards the other man.

“Eddie, please. Please… can I…”

“Yeah, princess. Cum on my fingers.”

You collapsed as you came, moaning loudly into the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. You weren’t given much time however as Steve manhandled you till you up on your hands and knees again with your face hovering over the bulge in the other man’s pants.

After unbuckling his belt, he pushed them down just enough to free his own cock from his denim confinement and you didn’t hesitate as you wrapped your tiny hands around his thick girth. Hands clung tightly to your waist and you braced yourself when you felt Steve collect some of your arousal with his length before gradually pushing into your entrance.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“How does she feel, Harrington?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to focus on the man in front of you, letting a long glob of spit land on his tip as you stroked it with your hand.

“S-So…So fucking tight.” His palm came down on your ass and you groaned as he continued to push further inside of you.

“I like my view here. Make—mmm—make sure you fuck her nice and deep. Beautiful girl deserves it after everything she’s been through.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. I plan on ruining this little pussy.”

Eddie chuckles as he watches Steve lick his lips as your cunt tightens around him at his words.

“What about you, princess?”, he murmurs as he tenderly pets your head.

“He’s…so BIG.”

“Yeah, he is. Does he feel good?” You nod as your head hangs and he promptly grabs your jaw forcing you to look his way. “Say it.”

“Fuck, Steve, you feel so fucking good!”

“That’s a good girl.”

You mewled when you felt him bottom out, his hips connecting with yours, allowing you to feel every inch before he pulled back and slammed back into you. Eddie’s mouth fell open as you bobbed your head on his cock. While he wasn’t as big as his boyfriend, he was definitely thicker and you felt like your mouth was full of him.

He was much gentler with you, continuing to play with your hair and mutter praises as Steve pounded into you, rocking you further down the gangster’s length as you choked and spit around him.

“God, honey, this pussy is too…fucking…good.”, Steve grunted, smacking his lower half into yours between each word. Leaning over you, he rolled his hips, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt as your eyes rolled back. “His dick tastes amazing, doesn’t it? Mmm—fucking love when he shoves it down my throat.”

Moving out of his way, Steve envelopes Eddie into his mouth making the gangster moan as he extends his hand to tangle in his hair. As his boyfriend continued to fuck you, your own groans vibrated against the long haired boy’s balls driving him crazy as he growled through his clenched teeth.

“Fuck! You’re both so fucking sexy. That’s it, baby boy, take my cock.”

After pumping his hips a few times, Eddie let him go and Steve pushed up onto his knees pounding into you till you were seeing stars. Taking the man’s length in your mouth again, you mimicked the other boy’s movements trying to keep a steady pace as you hurdled towards the edge.

“A-Are you about to cum? Fuck, Y/N, you better fucking ask one of us, little girl, if you want to fucking cum!”

Your glassy, needy eyes met the chocolate ones of the man in front of you, pleading as you began to shake.

“Ask, Y/N.”

“Please, Eddie! Please, I need to cum!”

Taking a hold of your hair, he firmly tugged you till your face was fully visible. A small smile flickered across his lips, watching you struggle till he finally nodded granting you permission.

Steve reached around and took hold of your throat, lifting you till you were pressed against him, squeezing you tightly as he fucked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Are you on the pill?”, Steve roughly growled in your ear, his rhythm and intensity increasing when you said yes. “Good because I’m going to fill up this pussy and you’re going to take it like a good little girl. You’re going to take everything I give you and be fucking thankful.”

He grunted in your ear as he held your lower half against him as he rolled his hips aggressively, pumping his release into your cunt.

“Steve.”, Eddie called in a firm tone you barely heard through your haze.

“Excuse me, honey.”

Carefully, he pulled his softening cock out of your aching hole and gently laid you on your side before crawling up the gangster’s legs and taking him into his mouth. You watched with hooded eyes as his boyfriend took him all the way down his shaft, massaging his balls with his palm, as Eddie groaned.

“That’s my good boy. You wanna swallow my cum?”

Steve nodded as his eyes met his own and with a few thrusts of Eddie’s hips, his head fell back as he released his spend down the man’s throat. After sharing a soft but passionate kiss, they turned their attention to you.

“Are you ok, babe? Do you need anything? Water?”

“Will you lay with me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course.”

You didn’t even hesitate when you scoot to Eddie’s side and wrapped your arms around your stomach, placing your head on his chest. The last thing you remember is feeling warmth behind you and the sound of Steve’s steady breathing on your skin before you fell asleep.

***

“DID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THERE WOULD BE NO CONSEQUENCES?!”

Your head shot up when you heard shouting in your living room. Eddie and Steve were missing but the voice you heard definitely wasn’t theirs. Quickly throwing on the officer’s shirt you listened as the voice continued.

“Did you really think you could come on to our territory, break into one of our stash houses, and kill a bunch of our guys?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how easy it was for me and my guys to break in.”, Eddie responded angrily.

“Shut the fuck up, trailer trash! You think because you moved out here and took over Al’s business, you’re different but you aren’t. You’re still that garbage that he left behind with his brother before you suddenly decided you wanted in. Ah ah ah! Don’t make me shoot you, Steve. I have no problem killing a law man.”

“If you’re not here to kill us, Andrew, then what do you want?”, Steve spat.

Glancing quickly around the room, you realize his gun was still in its holster near your nightstand and as quietly as you could pulled it from its home. Tip toeing out into the hallway, you held it in front of you as you peaked around the corner.

The person you didn’t recognize had his back to you as he pointed his own pistol at Eddie and Steve who both had their hands raised where he could see them.

“Jason just wants Edward so we can make an example of him and what happens when you cross the Carvers.”

“I think you underestimate the Munsons, Andy.” Slowly, you creeped up behind him, praying he wouldn’t turn around. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere. I hope Jason understands that this wasn’t a good move.”

“Yeah well, you can tell him yourself. Now come on or I will shoot him.”, Andrew threatens as he points his weapon Steve.

“Not if we shoot you first.”

At Eddie’s words, you cock the gun and pull the trigger.

##############

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froggiewrites · 15 days ago

Note

I know you’re not taking requests rn BUT if in the future you wouldn’t mind and think it’s fun: I was working and had disney’s mulan (1998 obviously) in the background, hadn’t watched in a while so I did laugh when mulan was practicing acting like a man and said “ha! I see you have a sword, I have one too! they’re very manly-” and just drops the sword. What if reader had to go undercover as swordsman somewhere and they ask zoro for help/pointers and they do this really bad act in front of him? or maybe it’s something like a first meeting kind of thing where the reader is trying to blend in to escape or something and encounters zoro, does this horrible act and ends up confessing and asking for help? I just think this would be hilarious bc zoro might seem and feel very offended but has probably experienced worse with the crew’s jokes and if feelings are involved he could be like “why am I attracted to this idiot?”, affectionately ofc lol

I had a lot of fun with this one, anon. Mulan is tied for my favorite Disney movie, so I was already super on board with this request, and then as I started writing it just started getting really silly. I hope you enjoy it!!

Make a (Swords)Man Out of You

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your attempt to go undercover as a master swordsman isn't going particularly well. A kind (if somewhat grumpy) stranger offers you some lessons to help keep up the ruse. Warnings: Fluff, Reader is a loser (affectionate) in this one, Zoro is also a bit of a loser Word Count: 2.5k

You were seriously going to get yourself killed.

You were convinced this was going to be easy. You’d tricked people before, and frankly, how hard could it be to use a sword? You don’t need to pretend to be the best swordsman, just a swordsman!

It turns out using a sword is, admittedly, kind of hard.

You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you had nearly cut yourself, or the blade had slipped from your hands, or you ended up not slicing through anything because you messed up your swing. You try to tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need to be the best, just mediocre, but you can’t even manage that at this point. You’re going to get caught. You’ve been undercover in this group for a week now, and you’ve managed to avoid any actual swordplay so far, but you can’t keep this up for long. Not only have you not found the treasure you wanted, you’re probably going to get your head sliced off before you find even a hint of it’s location.

So here you are, in the middle of the night, trying and once again failing to make a dent on this stupid training dummy.

“You’re not holding it right.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a man’s voice behind you. You whip around to see another mysterious swordsman who showed up a few days ago and immediately wiped the floor with several members of the group. You had no idea why he was here, considering he didn’t seem nearly as interested in mindless violence or ill-gotten gains as the rest of the people here. You couldn’t quite recall his name.

“I know what I’m doing,” you grumble, unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah?” He has a smug grin on his face, one that just screams I know more than you and we both know it. “Will you show me, then?”

This is it. You’re caught, he’s going to tell, and you’re going to get sliced to a billion little pieces. You try to keep your cool, to steady your breath and lie through your teeth as you have been all week, but something about him just cuts to your core and you break. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He takes a step back at the panic in your voice, immediately looking unsure at the sight of your tears. “I’m not–I–Stop crying!” He says it roughly, more of a command than anything else, which only makes you cry harder.

“Please, I don’t want them to kill me! I didn’t think it’d be this hard! I just wanted some treasure, is that so wrong? Life is expensive!” Your blubber would be embarrassing if you had any coherent thoughts through your fear.

“Who said anything about killing you?” He moves forward, his hand covering your mouth and muffling your sobs and panicked words. “And seriously, stop crying. You’re being too damn loud, you’re going to get yourself caught! God, it’s a wonder you haven’t been caught already. You’re so obvious I knew from the moment I walked in you were trying to run some kind of con.”

You try to ask him how he knew immediately, but the words don’t make it through his palm.

“Stop talking. It’s fine. No one’s going to kill you.”

You think he can hear you promise? through his hand.

“Yes, I promise. Just…stop.”

He frees your mouth, and you take a deep and steadying breath.

“So why are you pretending to be a swordsman?”

“These bandits have been stealing a lot from people here, and I heard they stole a big priceless artifact from a nobleman. I figure if I get that, I can get off the island, sell it, and be set for life.”

“So you said you were a master swordsman?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t think about lying about anything more believable?”

“They said they needed one. And I didn’t think I’d be this bad at it.”

He closes his eyes, pondering a moment. “You do seem pretty uniquely terrible at this.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

You try to steady your breath, and while you do, he takes your hands in his, turning them over and glaring at them as though they were an insult.

“Why are they so soft?”

“What?”

“Your hands. They’re too soft. You don’t have a single callus.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“It means you don’t do anything with them. It means you definitely don’t hold a sword. If anyone here were capable you’d have been out on your ass day one.”

“I don’t think most people would notice that.”

“Any decent swordsman would. You’re damn lucky I’m the only one here.”

You want to scoff, to ask him what makes him so qualified, but you know he could sound the alarm at any moment, and it’s stupid to piss off a man who holds your life in his hands. “Why haven’t you turned me in already?”

He scoffs. “Why would I?”

“They’d probably give you a reward or something. You don’t get anything out of helping me.”

“What, are you trying to convince me to do it?”

Your heart clenches, your voice raising with fear. “No!”

He shushes you harshly. “God, it was a joke! Be quiet!”

You shrink in on yourself, covering your mouth before he gets the chance.

He sighs. “You’re terrible at this. Why the hell did you think you could keep up this act?”

“I’ve tricked people before!”

“Did those people have swords?”

“...No.”

“Did you keep up an act for weeks at a time?”

“Well–”

“Yes or no.”

“...No.”

He pinches his forehead, muttering something under his breath about an idiot you remind him of, and you pout indignantly.

“I’m not an idiot!”

“Oh yeah? Because everything I’ve seen tonight has been pretty dumb.”

“Okay, well why are you here then, genius?”

He goes quiet, his eyes sliding away from yours.

“What, no answer?”

He mumbles something.

“What was that?”

You can barely hear the words, almost lost as he whispers them, his head tilted down in embarrassment. “I got lost.”

You can’t help the bark of a laugh that leaves you. “What?”

“I got lost! I was going to find my ship and I got turned around, so I decided to stay and see what this place was about! So what?”

“You got lost so you decided to join a group of bandits? And you’ve been here for days! Don’t you have anybody looking for you?”

“They’ll show up eventually!”

“Why didn’t you just ask for directions?”

“I don’t need directions!”

“Clearly, you do!”

You both groan in unison at the other, fighting frustration. You aren’t in much of a position to judge, but how could a person be more helpless? At least you got yourself into trouble on purpose.

“Where is your ship supposed to be docked?”

“I don’t remember exactly, it was near an opera house.”

“An…opera house?”

“Yeah?”

You cannot believe this is happening. “We don’t have one of those.”

“What?”

“There isn’t an opera house on this island. The closest one is a day’s ferry trip away. How the hell did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“That literally cannot be true! Like physically!”

“Well it is! So you must have forgotten!”

“Forgotten about the layout of the island I’ve lived my entire life on? Really?”

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I was going to help you.”

You pause. “You were going to help me? With what?”

“With swordplay! Obviously! You can’t even hold the damn thing right, you clearly need it.” He’s pouting, his lower lip jutted out like a child about to throw a tantrum. You just barely hold yourself back from telling himself that. As fun as it may be to taunt him, you really do need the help.

You can swallow your pride for the night. If everything works out, maybe you can make fun of him for this later. “...Would you still be willing to help me?”

“Why should I?”

“I can get you back to your ship. After I get the treasure, I mean.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No offense, but you definitely do. And I kind of want to go with you anyway. I’m a little worried you’ll just walk off into the ocean if I don’t.”

He glares at you, eyes raking up and down your form, considering for a moment. He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can help.”

You feel hopeful for the first time in a while. Your new friend, who informs you his name is Zoro, seems rather skilled. Maybe this plan won’t get you killed after all!

Two days later you’re kicking yourself for daring to think that even for a second.

“How the hell are you still doing it wrong?” His hands are on your back again, adjusting your posture for the twentieth time today. “How hard can it be just to swing a sword?”

“It’s not! I’ve been swinging it this whole time!” You aggressively bring the blade down on the training dummy you two had stolen for your lessons. Zoro had thought you would need a day at most to get the basics down, but you were nearing the end of day two and making absolutely no progress.

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back as he adjusts your hold. You try not to blush as you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your hold. Come on, we’re going to swing it together. Clearly just telling you isn’t working, but maybe this will.” He puts his hands over yours, and you feel the heat radiating off of him. You try to focus on the movement as he guides you, but you can’t help but be distracted by the feeling of his muscles against your back. “Did you get that?”

“Huh?” You’re so grateful he can’t see your face right now. “Sorry, uh, can we do that one more time?”

Instead of making fun of you or complaining, he simply guides you through the motion again, going slow to ensure you understand every step, before repeating it again closer to a normal speed. “Did you get it?”

“I…think so. Maybe.”

He chuckles, and you can feel the rumble of his chest against your back. “Alright. Try it yourself, now.”

You do, and for once, the sword flies through the air with ease, and makes a sizable slash in the dummy. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, before you drop the sword and whirl around to face him. “I did it!” You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him.

“Wha–Hey! Don’t drop your sword!” Despite his scolding tone of voice, his arms are gentle as they wrap around you, lifting you up slightly. “...But that was good.”

Is that a hint of red at the tips of his ears?

No, of course not. It couldn’t be.

He sets you down, picking up the sword and placing it back in your hand. “Now do it again. If you can do something as simple as that, you can probably keep up the facade long enough to find your treasure.”

You do the motion ten, twenty, then thirty more times while Zoro watches on with satisfaction. “You know, I could probably make a real swordsman out of you if we had the time.”

You laugh. “Maybe you could. I don’t have anywhere to be after this. Does your ship have room for one more?”

You say it as a joke, but you can see on his face that for a moment, he genuinely considers the possibility. “It’s a big ship. You’d have to get approval from my Captain, though.”

“Do you think I could?”

“He’d love you.” He smiles fondly. “You’re just as reckless as he is. And you’d get along with everyone else, too. Nami would appreciate having someone else who knows the value of a Berry around. Usopp would love how gullible you are. And that cook…” He makes a quiet noise of disgust. “Anyway, you’d fit right in.”

You can see the affection radiating off of him as he talks about his friends. You can’t help but smile back at him. “They sound nice.”

“They have their moments.”

You sheathe your sword, rolling out your shoulders and neck. “Well, I think I only have a bit to go before I get the treasure. I’m so close I can taste it. I bet I can find it by tonight.”

“Here’s hoping. As you are now, you’d still get caught the moment you got put into a real battle. We have to find it quickly.”

You freeze, your heart pounding a little faster. “...We?”

“Yeah?” He looks at you like it’s obvious.

“You’re coming with me?”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know! You never said you were going to!”

“I thought it was obvious. We’re going to go in, grab the treasure, and run like hell.”

You don’t like the way he simplifies it, but you have to admit that’s basically your entire plan. “And then I take you back to your ship?”

“It’d be hard for you to join if you didn’t.”

You can’t hide your shock. “You were serious?”

“Were you not?”

“I mean–I’d like to, but–”

“If you want to, then there’s no but. It’s settled.” He says it so easily. You wonder where he gets the confidence to speak things into existence like that, to say things as though they’re sure to happen simply because he wills it. His next words are spoken as an afterthought, as though they left his mouth before he even realized they were coming. “That’s good. I didn’t really want to let you go.”

“Huh?” Your face is definitely red now.

“Huh?” His face might be redder than yours.

“Did you–”

“No, definitely not.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He sharply turns around. “We have a treasure to go steal.”

Well, if he isn’t going to be brave about this, you suppose you’ll have to. You wouldn’t survive the tension-filled boat ride over otherwise. “Oh, the brave swordsman is running away?”

You see his shoulders tense, and you know you got him. “I am not running away.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me, Zoro?” You keep your voice teasing and sickly sweet.

He slowly turns, desperately avoiding your eyes.

“You still aren’t loo–”

Before you can finish your taunt, chapped lips are pressed against yours. It’s jarring and all too brief, gone before you even realize it was there. By the time you can blink, he’s backed away again, stalking off with a purpose. “Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

“That’s the wrong way.”

He turns back around without a word, rushing past you. You can’t help the goofy little grin that makes its way onto your lips. You won’t tell him, not now, but you didn’t really want to let him go quite yet either.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #x reader #op

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