#Job 42:1-2

[bojackson54]

A Blessing is Equated With Good Things. What Is it When BAD Things Happen?

It has to be a blessing when good things happen to us, right? What do you call it when bad things happen to us?[Job said] “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” (Job 1:21-22, NIV). “After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had…

[touchofgoddotworld]

No Matter The Darkness In The World, God Still Has Plans For Those Who Call Him Lord (269) - October 26 2024

Choose your Podcast App to Play this episode For those who love the Lord [who hold Him in affectionate reverence, promptly obeying Him and gratefully recognizing the benefits He has bestowed], what eye has not seen and ear has not heard and has not entered into the heart of man, [all that] God has prepared (made and keeps ready) for them. This is what 1 Corinthians 2:9 speaks about. The believer…

[transtistic]

50 Lamb Questions

1. Does your lamb go by any name other than The Lamb? If so, what?

2. How old was your lamb when they were sacrificed?

3. How long was your lamb held captive by heretics before their sacrifice?

4. Did your lamb kill anyone prior to their first death? If so, who?

5. When your lamb mourns a dead loved one from their past.. who is it?

6. Who raised your lamb?

7. Where was your lamb raised? A village? A prison? Constantly on the run?

8. Did your lamb have any specific skills pre-sacrifice?

9. How or where was your lamb caught?

10. How did your lamb feel with their head on the pedestal? Afraid? Relieved? Angry?

11. Does your lamb have any notable or unique features?

12. How tall is your lamb?

13. Is your lamb petite? Curvy? Fucking jacked?

14. Is your lamb’s wool pure white?

15. How does your lamb prefer to keep their wool? Short and shorn neat? Wild and untrimmed? Be honest are there branches in that bitch?

16. Do you base your lamb on any specific species of sheep? If so, which?

17. Do they use their own wool for anything?

18. On a scale of one to ten how floppy are their ears?

19. Do they bear any traits of forced domestication? Is their tail docked? Was their ear tagged? Do they have scars from being shorn (and nicked) against their will? Were they ever painted with or assigned a number rather than a name?

20. What do their horns look like?

21. Was your lamb born male, female, intersex, or do you have no opinion on their sex at birth?

22. Does your lamb use pronouns other than they/them? If so, which ones!

23. Are they capable of having children and would they want to have children?

24. If they were to be a parent or are, what epithet would they have their child use? Mom? Mama? Dad? Baba? Nony? Abba?

25. Do they wear something other than the canon cloak?

26. Does your lamb wear jewelry or makeup?

27. Is your lamb flirtatious?

28. Did your lamb have any partners pre-sacrifice?

29. Did your lamb take any followers as a partner?

30. Who is your lamb’s second in command or closest follower?

31. Is your lamb ever honest about their feelings or past? With who?

32. Is your lamb merciful? Did they ever refuse to spare someone? If so, why?

33. Is your lamb trustworthy?

34. Is your lamb quick or slow to trust others?

35. If your lamb could pick a cult job other than leader what would it be?

36. Is your lamb a good cook?

37. Does your lamb let cult members cook or heal or do they restrict them from certain duties?

38. What is your lamb’s favorite food or dish?

39. Does your lamb eat meat/fish/eggs?

40. What is your lamb’s stance on cannibalism?

41. What about their stance on torture?

42. Would your lamb ever kill a cult member?

43. How does your lamb deal with dissenters?

44. What is your lamb’s favorite weapon? Their least favorite?

45. Would they ever let a follower embrace their dark desire to eat poop?

46. What is your lamb’s favorite season?

47. Is your lamb’s favorite color something other than red?

48. How does your lamb really feel about death?

49. Does your lamb use substances? Are substance banned from cult grounds?

50. Freebie! Tell us any headcanon you want!

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; completed! (18.02.25)

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

57 ) when you been thuggin it out for so long

58 ) a second try

59 ) be careful who you call OOMF

60 ) the paid price

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #38

Oct 11-18 2024

President Biden announced that this Administration had forgiven the student loan debt of 1 million public sector workers. The cancellation of the student loan debts of 60,000 teachers, firefighters, EMTs, nurses and other public sector workers brings the total number of people who's debts have been erased by the Biden-Harris Administration using the Public Service Loan Forgiveness to 1 million. the PSLF was passed in 2007 but before President Biden took office only 7,000 people had ever had their debts forgiven through it. The Biden-Harris team have through different programs managed to bring debt relief to 5 million Americans and counting despite on going legal fights against Republican state Attorneys General.

The Federal Trade Commission finalizes its "one-click to cancel" rule. The new rule requires businesses to make it as easy to cancel a subscription as it was to sign up for it. It also requires more up front information to be shared before offering billing information.

The Department of Transportation announced that since the start of the Biden-Harris Administration there are 1.7 million more construction and manufacturing jobs and 700,000 more jobs in the transportation sector. There are now 400,000 more union workers than in 2021. 60,000 Infrastructure projects across the nation have been funded by the Biden-Harris Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. Under this Administration 16 million jobs have been added, including 1.7 construction and manufacturing jobs, construction employment is the highest ever recorded since records started in 1939. 172,000 manufacturing jobs were lost during the Trump administration.

The Department of Energy announced $2 billion to protect the U.S. power grid against growing threats of extreme weather. This money will go to 38 projects across 42 states and Washington DC. It'll upgrade nearly 1,000 miles worth of transmission lines. The upgrades will allow 7.5 gigawatts of new grid capacity while also generating new union jobs across the country.

The EPA announced $125 million to help upgrade older diesel engines to low or zero-emission solutions. The EPA has selected 70 projects to use the funds on. They range from replacing school buses, to port equipment, to construction equipment. More than half of the selected projects will be replacing equipment with zero-emissions, such as all electric school buses.

The Department of The Interior and State of California broke ground on the Salton Sea Species Conservation Habitat Project. The Salton Sea is California's largest lake at over 300 miles of Surface area. An earlier project worked to conserve and restore shallow water habitats in over 4,000 acres on the southern end of the lake, this week over 700 acres were added bring the total to 5,000 acres of protected land. The Biden-Harris Administration is investing $250 million in the project along side California's $500 million. Part of the Administration's effort to restore wild life habitat and protect water resources.

The Department of Energy announced $900 Million in investment in next generation nuclear power. The money will help the development of Generation III+ Light-Water Small Modular Reactors, smaller lighter reactors which in theory should be easier to deploy. DoE estimates the U.S. will need approximately 700-900 GW of additional clean, firm power generation capacity to reach net-zero emissions by 2050. Currently half of America's clean energy comes from nuclear power, so lengthening the life space of current nuclear reactors and exploring the next generation is key to fighting climate change.

The federal government took two big steps to increase the rights of Alaska natives. The Departments of The Interior and Agricultural finalized an agreement to strengthen Alaska Tribal representation on the Federal Subsistence Board. The FSB oversees fish and wildlife resources for subsistence purposes on federal lands and waters in Alaska. The changes add 3 new members to the board appointed by the Alaska Native Tribes, as well as requiring the board's chair to have experience with Alaska rural subsistence. The Department of The Interior also signed 3 landmark co-stewardship agreements with Alaska Native Tribes.

The Department of Energy announced $860 million to help support solar energy in Puerto Rico. The project will remove 2.7 million tons of CO2 per year, or about the same as taking 533,000 cars off the road. It serves as an important step on the path to getting Puerto Rico to 100% renewable by 2050.

The Department of the Interior announced a major step forward in geothermal energy on public lands. The DoI announced it had approved the Fervo Cape Geothermal Power Project in Beaver County, Utah. When finished it'll generate 2 gigawatts of power, enough for 2 million homes. The BLM has now green lit 32 gigawatts of clean energy projects on public lands. A major step toward the Biden-Harris Administration's goal of a carbon pollution-free power sector by 2035.

Bonus: President Biden meets with a Kindergarten Teacher who's student loans were forgiven this week

[buntanteen]

svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: hoshi - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw hoshi x reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ hoshi bf texts - @lololololchips

the witty bickering and banter is EXACTLY what hoshi wants kjgfbdjk

2. ❥ how to get rid of nightmares - @cheolism-archive

as someone who used to get really bad nightmares...the cuteness of kwon soonyoung would take away allll my fear

3. ❥ babe for the weekend - @studioeisa

i LOVEEEEEEEEEE an exes fic and this deliveredddd

4. ❥ dating hoshi feels like.. - @ssentimentals

i just knowwww that dating hoshi would be such a fun experience

5. ❥ kisses with hoshi - @gi4hao

ALL THE KISSES WITH SOONIE PLSSSSSSSSSS

6. ❥ 10:47pm - @odxrilove

our lil sweetheart ahhhhhh

7. ❥ too much communication!soonyoung x reader - @xinganhao

i was CACKLING throughout this entire fic. soonie is just like me in this djkfgbfdk

8. ❥ fanboy hoshi - @rubyreduji

fanboy hoshi is one of my fAVOURITEEE genres of him heheh

9. ❥ bf!soonyoung thoughts - @boorines

bf!soonyoung who should be MYYY bf (

10. ❥ love languages: kwon soonyoung - @cxffecoupx

soonie and i both being physical touch, cuteness aggression & gift giver ppl??!?! HELLL yeah

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ bark (like a dog) - @toruro

*ahem* ARF ARF AWOOOO??? (this was INTENSE in such a good way)

2. ❥ The Biggest Fanboy - @hoshifighting

he's a cute ass dance teacher for kids?!?!?! and he can banter like that?!?!?! AHHHHHHHHHH

3. ❥ warm - @cheolism-archive

tiddy lover!hoshi agenda strikes again hehe

4. ❥ tiger stripes (stretch marks) - @hoshifighting

pretty tiger stripes deserved to worshipped!!!

5. ❥ kwon soonyoung as your friend with benefits - @woozivrsefactry

the perfect lil fwb :)) wbk

6. ❥ 08:42 - @eomayas

i'd quit any job if it meant he'd fuck me like that kjgfbd

7. ❥ how hoshi fucks/hoshis' hip game - @hoshifighting

y'all, take deeps breaths while reading this cuz oh myyyyyyyyyyyyy gAWDDDD (his hip game is no lie)

8. ❥ riding him on the couch - @toruro

had to take a lap around my room after this one cuz WOOOOOOFJSKBK

9. ❥ in front of chan and everybody - @rubyreduji

HOSHI AND THE PFU DON'T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEE KJDBGDFKJ

10. ❥ waking you up with oral - @nsfwhao

i think i'd fucking cease to exist if i woke up with soonie between my legs omgkdfjgb

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 4:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 5.

This chapter is brought to you by myyyyyyy🎉birthday🎉 woohoo 🥳 I hath aged

It's a little bit shorter, but I mean come on it's a unique chapter soooo it's cool guys I swear

Lots more Batfam content this time, albeit Tim centric. I'll balance it out in the future I swear! Also it's still platonic, but you could probably get a romantic reading from this a lil bit if you try

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0

----

A few days have passed since your encounter with Red Robin. He hasn't shown up since, but another thing has.

Your work had sent you an email. An invitation to Wayne Enterprises, to represent them. According to them, your location was the closest to Wayne Enterprises, and so you were selected. You lived 50 minutes away from Wayne Enterprises. Their home office was 30 minutes away. You weren't sure who was doing the math here, but they needed some more practice.

That being said, you could notice a pattern when there was one. This was Tim Drake's attempt to get you out of your home. And unfortunately, it was going to work. You needed your job. It was perfect, remote, didn't bother you as long as you got the work done. Jobs like that were rare, especially in Gotham.

Not for the first time, you kinda felt like crying.

If Red Robin, your soulmate, was indeed Tim Drake, then what was this? Did he have you figured out? Or was he continuing the investigation?

You didn't know...

Refusing to show up would get you fired. There was no way around that. But, what if you couldn't go?

What if you were too injured to go? There's no way you could fake something, the bats are quite literally master detectives. That and your soul animal form would likely reveal the uninjured truth.

Maybe if you injured yourself?

No, no no no. That was a bad route to go down. If this meeting is to check whether you are soulmates with him, a matching injury on your soul animal form would be like a criminal and a suspect having the same tattoo.

There wasn't really any option here. Which, really, is just typical for the vigilantes of Gotham.

"Ughhh." You groaned to yourself, cradling your hands with your head. You glared over at Red, who had been showing up much more frequently these past few days (which was saying something, since all your soul animals were already by you 23/7). Red gave a small chirp in reply, some sort of smugness in its tone.

Maybe it was time to invest in wind chimes or something. You heard they can scare off robins.

You felt like you were going to need it.

~ ~ ~ ~

Tim's developed something of a guilty habit.

It wasn't a bad thing, per se. Nothing B would particularly frown at. Dick might even agree.

He imagined you wouldn't quite feel the same, though.

You looked especially fragile, as you slept. During the day your face was haunted by false bravado, a paranoid edge to every smile. Sleep smoothed out the lines of your face, giving a softer touch to your slumbering form.

You frown when he reaches out to poke your cheek. It's cute. His hand twitches for his camera. You're always cute, whether it's a small little frown on your face or beaming joy.

He's developed a new favorite activity. Alongside solving cases, he's now watching you. He wants to observe it all. From little habits to obvious passions, he wants to know everything. Hobbies, skills, loves, DNA. He'd only just found you, the answer to the mystery that he's been in since birth. He's had a lot of time to build up this obsession.

He wants and wants and needs. He can wait to take.

You are a light sleeper, but he's a quiet stalker. You don't always drink milk before bed, but when you do, you'll get a little more tired than usual. Your groggy face is cute, too.

He reached out, stroking your hair with the slightest of a smile beginning on his face. It was soft. It reminded him of you, your soul animal form. It had flinched away from him earlier, as it always does whenever they were in uniform. Finding that you do the same as a human wasn't so surprising.

They had adapted to your soul form’s skittishness. They could do the same again. His mind briefly flashed through some ideas, an ankle bracelet, a watch, a collar? If it was on the ankle, you'd match.

He broke out of his musings at the shift of movement. A flutter of wings. B’s soul animal flew down perching on a piece of furniture nearby as a vantage point. He smirked. Looked like he wasn't the only one feeling a little possessive tonight.

He must've been thinking of you. Not surprising, given that your soul form was scheduled time with him today. They had to work out a schedule, else there would have been a lot more stabbings. Not that it didn't prevent sudden abductions occasionally, thanks Jason.

That was fine though. B could have you tonight, Damian could have you tomorrow, Dick the next. Because Tim had the real you, right here.

And he wasn't planning on letting go.

There's a room he's preparing inside Drake manor. He’d put your name on it, but that would be too obvious if anyone came around. Instead, it would be his little secret with you. He's only just met you, but he has plenty of ideas for it already.

He didn't feel guilty for this. Not at all.

You were his as much as he was yours after all. If there was a problem with these feelings, then why would fate itself tie you to him?

If anything, the only guilt he’d feel is not telling anyone else. He couldn't help it, he just wanted you to himself for a while. He caught you, so he was allowed to have you.

But was that really guilt? Or just annoyance at the idea of getting caught?

An alert on his communicator made him frown, taking him out of the trance he had felt into. There was more he had to do.

A shame, but it was fine. He got to spend some quality time with you, taken a few things for the future. He’d make more time. And you'll have all the time in the world for him. But first…

Tim withdrew a specialty camera from his utility belt, raising it to his face. He adjusted a few settings, then…

Snap!

~ ~ ~ ~

You fought the urge to yawn. You have been so sleepy lately. You had to wake up especially early for today. Lovely.

At least today was the moment of truth. You'd show Red Robin for once and for all that you were perfectly normal, and not at all his soulmate. He’d lose interest, and your life would return to its domesticity.

The one good thing going for today was that you're somehow accompanied by none of your soul animals. A truly rare occasion that is ruined by the fact that you're instead visiting a soulmate in the flesh. If any of your soul animals do show up, you have your old reliable bag to shove them into. So, you should be alright.

Wayne Enterprises was a terrifying image, but you steadied yourself with the fact that your whole life’s freedom was at stake here, which was much more terrifying. After that you could get through the door. Security just letting you through after giving your name almost had you running out the door though, you'd admit.

The elevator ride was long and solemn, giving you time to think about everything. Maybe you should think about moving, staying in Gotham was perhaps a ridiculous sentiment to begin with. It was a shame though, you were a Gothamite through and through, you didn't want to leave the country your parents lived and raised you in.

Still, perhaps it was time to leave. Things were getting too risky. Thinking about it, Wayne Enterprises? Honesty what even was your life.

The ding of the elevator door interrupts your musings, an assistant directing you to Tim Drake’s office.

As you walk over, you can't help but listen in to some shouting coming from the room.

A younger voice is yelling. “Give me them! You do not deser-” The voice gets cut off, as an older voice yells back. “It is my turn, you do not get to just steal them!”

The younger voice starts up again, but so does the older voice, alongside what you can only presume to be fighting noises.

You just kinda stare at the door. You are a working professional, representing your company to the prestigious Wayne Enterprises. You came here with lofty expectations and responsibilities to fulfill. And the CEO… is fighting someone in his office.

You have no idea what to do.

A minute passes.

You started to think about signaling an assistant to come help, but before you could do so the fighting seemed to end with a shouted “Fine! But B will hear about-” you can't hear the rest, as the shouting returns to a normal volume.

A door is opened and slammed, footsteps retreating away from the office. You take a moment to appreciate the fact that Tim Drake’s office has two doors that lead in different places, because it means you didn't have to meet whoever he was fighting.

A second or two later, the door in front of you swings open. Tim Drake is facing you, his hair a little askew, and his cheeks a little red. He smiles, an easy thing. It's as if the sight of you brought it to his face.

“Welcome!” He waves you in, somehow not acknowledging what you just heard in any form. The objects in his office are perfectly aligned. Nothing looks disturbed at all. How?

He waves you over to a chair, settling into one himself.

“Well.” He begins. “It's nice to see you again, Y/n."

You hope this goes by quickly.

[chenlesfavorite]

NIGHT RIDER, zhong chenle

working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

══════════════════

— pairing: motorcyclist!chenle x fem!reader

— genres: social media au (smau), written, slowburn, angsty-ish, fluff, strangers to enemies to lovers (except they're not really enemies.. they just can't stand each other)

— extra: y/n is dating jaehyun (from boynextdoor) but they break up, jaehyun is kinda toxic, chenle is a lil shithead, probably inaccurate descriptions of motorcycle racing, y/n and chenle are crackheads when together

— warnings: lots of death jokes, profanity, everything in this story is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act!!

— playlist: Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys | devil in a red dress - EIGHTYEIGHTWAV | eyes don't lie - Isabel LaRosa | HEARTBEAT - Isabel LaRosa | COLD BLOODED - Chris Grey | Rude Boy - Rihanna | OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic, Maggie Lindemann | Te Quiero - KISS OF LIFE

— authors note: my 2nd smau!! this one will be pretty different from got my ion you and hopefully better 🤭 i’m super excited for this one ngl..

— status: finished

— taglist: closed

══════════════════

profiles 1 | profiles 2

1. fuckass job and bf worries

2. 40 dollars?!

3. kicked out (half smau/half written)

4. easy forgiveness

5. victim of bad boyfriendism

6. where’s the apology?

7. a fool in love

8. he’s a sim now!

9. scary stares

10. surprise dinner (fully written)

11. sensing something... ah yes, jaemrina

12. the long awaited breakup

13. living life to the fullest and fuck chenle!

14. or maybe… don’t fuck chenle?

15. bad energy and mewing

16. the witch is coming

17. good job, genius!

18. the race (fully written)

19. nightmare wishes

20. is it the end of the world?

21. apologies are in order… oh and you’re not that bad

22. single and ready to mingle

23. yuta, the rizzler

24. yes, a date is happening!

25. stood up (half smau/half written)

26. we’ll forget about it… right? (half smau/half written)

27. hooked by why don’t we vibes

28. prince sugarplums the 5th

29. she’s not my lovergirl! / he’s not my man!

30. who want backshots?

31. his true feelings (half smau/half written)

32. send help… or maybe don’t?

33. ho is u coo?

34. find her asap

35. king of racing (fully written)

36. nothing more than a bad decision

37. no deep meaning behind it

38. oddly specific lyrics

39. jaemrina sailed!

40. talk to me, please

41. hate you & miss you

42. mission get cheny/n to make up

43. mission accomplished (fully written)

44. our sims are getting married 100%

45. my angel

— end —

══════════════════

[danidrabbles]

Pulling a Double

Michael “Dr. Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader x unnamed f!resident | 11.6k words | explicit.

Summary: When Doctor Abbot breaks his collarbone, you come in from Presby to cover as attending on PTMC’s night shift until he’s fit to come back. During your time there, you meet Robby and one of his female residents. After a couple of tense situations, you pitch an idea to Robby on your last day.

Tags/Warnings: fem reader (female anatomy, has at least shoulder-length hair, bisexual), canon typical medical jargon and emergency department horrors (including car accidents, head trauma, drug overdoses, death of a child (mention), water ski accidents, injuries from glass) (but it’s me just saying shit because I’m not a doctor), alcohol consumption, power imbalance (two attendings vs. one resident), smut (including f/f/m threesome, protected piv, dirty talk, spitting and more) - let me know if I missed anyhthing!

Notes: Woke up one day and thought: What if Robby and Reader double teamed a pretty resident? One thing about me is I will find a way to serve the bisexual agenda. Big thank you as always to @javier-pena for jumping at every chance to read this, serving as my very speedy editor and leaving comments that make my writing better, and to @robinavich, not just for enthusiasm but also for reminding me Abbot probably had fall training as a former military medic...

– – – – –

It's Monday morning, on your day off, when you get a call about filling in for Jack Abbot. 

Apparently, he tripped and fell post-shift on the roof of the hospital. Landed on his shoulder. Split his collarbone clean in half.

Turns out that accidents happen, even if you've had military fall training–though 5'9"ish is probably nowhere near the altitude he trained at.

It's nice as far as breaks go; needs no surgery, just a sling and some rest. He's out for at least six weeks. Most likely twelve.

The call surprises you, considering you work for a different hospital, but they've given you the all clear if you want the job.

UPMC Presbyterian has enough personnel, they can absolutely afford to miss you, but they’re usually more hesitant about temporary replacements. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center is… struggling, not just with the general nursing shortage and budget cuts, but rumours have long been flying about the hospital “being up for sale”, and that doesn’t exactly make physicians want to apply for a job there. Your best guess is that Presby’s only lending an attending out because they’re not fully prepared for the swarm of patients it will bring to them should PTMC’s emergency department really shut down over staff shortages. 

You wonder if they know you’re personally invested. 

You met Jack when you did a rotation at the VA years ago, when you were in medical school and he was a military medic freshly torn apart by war. His medical background made him a little different from the other vets you’d met up to that point, and he had a certain calm around him, even though he had every right to want to curse the world. Throughout your rotation, he told you both the best and most harrowing stories about emergency medicine in the field. If you were being honest, it’s probably what inspired you to pursue the specialty. 

Though it might be best he never knows, he already won’t stop saying he has “permanent stock in your medical degree” after helping you with a particularly tricky biochemistry exam.

With that in mind, and considering there's a chance, albeit a very slim one, it might shut him up, you accept the offer.

– – – – –

You meet Robby on your second day at PTMC. 

It’s right before change of shift, when you’re swamped with two separate patients in Trauma 1 and 2. You’re making your way from one trauma bay (26-year-old female, car vs. pedestrian, then face vs. pavement, A and O with good vitals, but significant facial fractures) back into the other (42-year-old male, ataxic breathing, nasal discharge, and a dorsal head wound after a fall down the stairs during a sleepwalking episode), and bump into him. Or rather, your shoulders bump when you try to take the same place by the bed to assess the next steps. 

Once you figure your patient is probably bleeding more than expected because he’s anticoagulated, Robby orders history and a four-factor PCC to be on standby before you can even speak. 

Then he asks what’s in it.

You don’t reply, figuring his question is for one of the residents surrounding you and focusing on the atrial fibrillation on the monitor instead. But then he nudges you, “Today if you can. This is a teaching hospital, so let’s hear it.”

“I’m not a– I’m the attending taking over for Abbot,” you say.

He takes you in, trailing from your crown to your toes, then back up to your eyes. You curse inwardly when you realize your badge is hidden beneath the disposable white scrubs you have on over your regular ones. “Could have fooled me,” Robby says, before raising an eyebrow as if to say, Anyway, what’s in the four-factor PCC?

“Clotting factors two, seven, nine, and ten,” you grit out, because there’s no time, and because you might have just worked a 12-hour shift, but you could answer that in your sleep. 

“Excellent,” is all he says.

And you both get back to work.

After, when your patients are in the clear, shipped off to reconstructive surgery and neurosurgery respectively, you get properly introduced and Robby realizes you are in fact the attending taking over for Abbot. He apologizes for his slip-up and compliments your work on the trauma patients. He does so with his hands buried in the pockets of a hoodie he wears over his scrubs, his shoulders drawn up to his ears and a set of brown eyes that silently ask for you to accept his apology. 

It’s not worth the argument; you’re too fucking tired and his apology seems genuine, like he’s a hardass purely for teaching purposes and not because he actually enjoys grinding people down, unlike some other doctors you’ve come across. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Learn to live with it, learn to accept it, and find balance if you can–you heard that somewhere once. “Comes with emergency department chaos, right? And with first–fuck, no, second days,” you correct with a shake of your head. 

Robby looks at you with a quick narrowing of his eyes, a corner of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling around a careful smile. Finally, his shoulders slump, a little relaxation slipping into his frame as he exhales. 

The board overhead flickers with change, and both your heads turn up to read it – test results from someone in Central 6 that are back – probably a UTI, nothing too exciting. Robby makes his way to one of the computers to check, fishing a pair of round reading glasses from his pocket along the way. Setting them on his nose when he arrives, he clicks around a couple times with the computer mouse, before leaning down on his forearms to look at the results.

“All right,” you say, dragging a hand down your face. “Time to go home. Have a good shift, Doctor Robinavitch.”

“Just Robby,” he reminds you, eyes still slipping from left to right as he reads.

“Right. Robby,” you nod.

“I’ll let you know if it was a good one,” he sighs, before pocketing his glasses again and finding his back with his hands, shoulders drawing together as he straightens. When you frown, he elaborates, “This shift, I mean… When I see you tonight at the next change of shift? I did see you on the schedule, right?”

“Yes. I am on schedule. Sorry about the brain fog.” You yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, then using the same hand to point a finger at the ceiling with a twirling motion. “Must be the 12 hours of flickering lights, and screaming, and… general fucking agony.”

Robby snorts. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

You both look up when an announcement message echoes through the emergency department. “Attention, code STEMI. Attention, code STEMI. ETA 3 minutes.”

Something immediately changes in Robby’s demeanour, eyes flicking towards the ambulance bay before excusing himself to make his way to Dana, no doubt to figure out what room’s open. 

“Get some sleep!” he shouts over his shoulder.

Aye aye, captain…

– – – – –

You quickly fall into a routine of three on, four off, and every morning after work, you come home exhausted, but also weirdly satisfied. During one of your three’s, you’re asked to pull a double; Robby spoke at some conference in Chicago two days ago, his flight has a significant delay, PTMC is swamped… 

You like the idea of it – as much as one can like the idea of being in the emergency department for that long. It’s just that everything at PTMC is a rush in a way things at Presby aren’t. Presby is safe. Everything is by the books–everything. But emergency medicine can’t operate that way and it’s like everyone at PTMC knows that, takes calculated, sometimes even creative, risks, and gets results.

So, you agree to the double. It’s not like anyone’s waiting for you at home, anyway.

As night shift becomes day shift, you meet her. Or rather, you see her.

She comes sailing by on a gurney, on top of a patient, face scrunched up with effort as she delivers deep, steady chest compressions, presenting to you all the while as you rush after her (32-year-old male, came in with chest pain, collapsed as soon as he walked into the waiting room, no pulse).

As soon as he’s rolled into one of the rooms, you help her off him, one of the med students taking over on compressions. Everyone works fast, you hear yourself yelling out for a crash cart, one of the nurses hooks the patient up to check vitals, and as soon as you identify his rhythm as v-tach she is next to you, on standby with the paddles and waiting for the charge, voice steady when she says, “Clear.” 

It’s all it takes to get him back into normal sinus. 

Over the course of the day, you discover the morning isn’t a one-off. She’s a third year resident, quick to react, smart as hell, a bit of a blabbermouth, which she needs to work on as a professional but it mostly just makes you laugh. She sticks close in the Trauma rooms, seems to know exactly when to step in and when to let you take the reins. While waiting for surgery to come down, you talk her through an emergency REBOA on a guy with NCTH after a car accident, and she aces it.

By the end of shift, you’re running on fumes, discussing the state of the department with Shen when he arrives to relieve you, your voice rough from all the talking you did today. When you finish up with Shen, you do a quick round to make sure your dayshift is getting relieved, and find your R3 in Central 8. She’s finishing up her stitches on a guy who fell through a glass door. You take in her slumped frame, her frazzled hair, and the heavy blink of her eyes. 

Knowing when to quit is something she also needs to work on.

You pluck one of the med students from the hall, verbally walk her through bandaging the patient up and handling the discharge with Doctor Shen, then poke your head back in the door of Central 8. 

“Sir, we’ll have one of the student doctors finish up with you, is that all right?” you ask, giving the girl a little push inside when he agrees. You turn your attention to your resident. “You got a minute?”

She nods, switches places with the student, and drags a hand over her face once she’s out of her patient’s view. 

“Thanks. Thought this day would never end…,” she says as you lead her into the empty hallway. She looks at you then, like she suddenly realizes she said that to someone who has been here for over 24 hours. “Shit, sorry–”

“Don’t sweat it,” you say with a wave and a chuckle. “I did come to make sure you get some rest. And because I wanted to let you know that I think you’ve done a fantastic job today.”

She perks up, shoulders dropping, eyes wide as saucers. “You think so?” she asks. Her voice is laced with a little too much enthusiasm to just be from the adrenaline of the day. “Thank you.”

You nod, “You really impressed me.”

And, oh, the addition might be a mistake. Because after you say it, she flashes you a bright smile, like all the effort she put into today has suddenly become worth it because of your praise. She’s fucking gorgeous. You already noticed before, but it’s worse this close up; freckles dusted along her nose and cheeks, a set of sparkling, green eyes set on you. You wonder if she knows, or if she’s one of those women who have no idea how beautiful they are. And then she blushes. It’s devastating.

You can’t help yourself. Delirious on being on the receiving end of all of that, and on the hours you’ve worked, you feed her ego further, “Sorry, is Robby– Does he not tell you how great you are at this?”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry! He does, but in his own… disgruntled way,” she laughs, then takes a step in your direction. “But I um, I really like hearing it from you.” 

You wobble where you stand, wanting to step back, but feeling like doing so gives this more weight than it should have. More than she might mean. Though deep down… you know, have gotten better at sussing it out over the years. You can tell from her airy little laugh, the hairs on her arms standing up straight, goosebumps disappearing under the sleeves of her scrubs, the way she bats her lashes while waiting for what you’ll say: she’s flirting with you. 

“From both of you.”

It unlocks something–something your fried brain can’t really provide you with a name for. Instantly, you wonder how many times a week that face gives Robby pause. How often he is on the receiving end of that smile and, fuck, this is bad. You need to keep your head on straight, you can’t let your co-workers get to you like this. 

Just teach. You are teaching. This is a teaching hospital. 

With a heavy blink, you pick your conversation back up. “But you do um, need to know when to take a break, all right? At the end of shift, find someone to take over for you. Don’t run yourself dry.”

She swallows thickly, then nods. 

“Okay, so–”

“When’s your next shift?” she cuts in. 

You bite your cheek, then say, “I don’t plan on making a habit of being on the day shift.”

She hums, sweet, high pitched, then clicks her tongue. “That’s a shame, I really like…,” she pauses, has the audacity to bite her lip and narrow her eyes at you as she scans your face, “...your teaching style.”

Christ, you’ve accidentally unleashed a monster. Or, well, not exactly accidentally, but it’s hard to hold yourself responsible when you’re spread so thin after such a long day. And when you have a pretty thing like her making advances at you. You like it, though. Like the back and forth–like it a little too much. And so does she, you can sense it radiating off of her, and you have to end this before you do something stupid, like find a rare, empty on-call room to show her exactly what your teaching style could do for her.

“That’s great to hear,” you say instead. “I’ll be sure to give Doctor Robby some pointers.”

“I’d like that,” she says.

“I bet,” you huff out, too much of a mumble for her to hear. “All right, get out of here, it’s end of shift. Go get some sleep,” you say, gathering your composure and sending her off with a jerk of your head.

As she walks away, you realize that Robby will be back tomorrow, even more disgruntled after his conference, his delayed flight, the general stress of the emergency department… and he’ll have to deal with that.

Maybe you should pity him, but you find yourself smiling instead.

– – – – –

Labour Day weekend is a shitshow. While dealing with all the madness a regular night shift entails, including a feverish toddler whose screams reach decibels previously unknown to man, and a burn victim from a house fire, there’s also the dozen or so attendees from an end of summer houseparty, where some ritalin pills were spiked with fentanyl. You see enough naloxone to last you at least a month – a lifetime if you’re honest. Four accidental overdoses don’t make it to sunrise. 

One of them is the 8-year-old brother of one of the partygoers, who had been asleep upstairs, snuck down, and most likely mistook the pill for candy.

Right before change of shift, you spot Robby by the central hub, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck while assessing the damage of the night via the board above him. Once you’ve updated him on everyone, you ask, “Do you need me to step in and help?”

He scoffs, because of course he does, especially now that he knows exactly what’s waiting for him this morning. He folds his arms in that way he always does, where they don’t quite cross and he holds one of his elbows. “Should tell you to go home.”

You open your mouth–

“But I won’t,” he says pointedly, leaning down a little to be at eye-level. “Two med students called in sick, there’s still no beds upstairs, it’s…,” he gestures at the board, “...a fucking nightmare here. Could really use an extra pair of capable hands.” 

“Thought so. I’ll stay,” you nod. 

Before you walk off, he grabs your arm, and when you turn… he asks if you’re okay. It catches you completely off guard. Not the question itself, but the way he asks; in a voice that’s so genuine and soft it cracks on every word, and with a little squeeze of his hand that makes the reassuring warmth of his palm bleed through your scrubs. Tears spring into your eyes, making Robby’s go soft in return.

“The night was um, rough,” you admit, blinking rapidly.

“Thought so,” he echoes. Then, carefully, “You should… let yourself feel it, it’s better if you let it out.”

Your head tips down with a knowing sigh. It’s not new information, but the reminder is nice. And, in a way, it’s a relief that you still haven’t become desensitized to all of this despite how many hours you’ve spent doing this job.

“Go get some cold water from the fridge in the staff lounge, sit, and don’t come back until at least an hour from now. And if you still want to stay, you can stay.”

You concede, nodding and inhaling slowly. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” he squeezes your arm, makes you look at him, eyes widening when he says, “Come find me, if you need me.”

It’s decidedly a declaration, and not a question. You blink up at him, hold his gaze for longer than necessary–longer than you should, because you can practically feel Dana’s stare and you don’t want her babying you all day because she’s worried.

“I will,” you promise.

Robby releases you, turning back to the board, and you make your way to the break room.

Exactly one hour later, you’re back on the floor.

Robby’s talking to Dana, hands in the pockets of his pants, nodding along to something she reads off her iPad. When he spots you, he cranes his neck and gives you a look. You give him a thumbs up in return and a fake smile, something that says, I’m still not okay, but doing well enough to be able to work. His reply comes in the form of a narrowing of his eyes and a huffed out breath. As soon as Dana is finished up with him, he approaches you until you’re standing shoulder to shoulder by the ambulance bay.

“We’ve got two en route, waterski vs. waterski,” Robby says.

You roll your shoulders and nod once. “I’ll take Trauma 1, you take Trauma 2?”

From the corner of your eye, you see his head turn to you, and you swear he smiles.

It’s a whirlwind after that, of screams and orders, blood, fractures, trauma. It’s a miracle you get your guy’s vitals to stabilise. The other room’s still frantic, and when you sail through the sliding doors between Trauma 1 and 2, you find it’s mostly because of how packed it is; there’s two nurses, an R1 on the phone, a med student taking notes, Robby’s listening in as Garcia from surgery fires away questions at Mr. Waterski 2, with his R3 by his side. 

You announce yourself by saying. “Other room’s stable, what can I do to h–”

“Got the blood!” comes from behind you. Another med student walks in, puts a brake on the speed with which he enters the room a little too late, and he steps on the back of your shoe as he hands the bag to one of the nurses.

You trip– or, rather, you’re shoved up against Robby’s resident. She squeaks out an, oh! when you collide with her, and your hands find her waist to keep yourself from tumbling over further. It’s no use. You’re like two dominos, your shared momentum making you crash into Robby. Her hands land on his chest to keep her own balance, and Robby stumbles backwards into the wall, a tray of medical supplies clattering to the floor. Your front is pressed against her back, your hold on her tightening as you essentially pin her up against Robby. His hands are up, blue gloved digits trembling slightly as he looks down at her, his pupils dilating, his next intake of breath sharp between his teeth. 

“Whoops,” she says between you, voice breathy, and you might have laughed, even just from the tense nerves fluttering through your body, if Robby hadn’t chosen that moment to flick his eyes up to yours over her head.

A deep, dark flush colours his cheeks, the tip of his nose, creeps down the protruding tendons in his neck and into the collar of the shirt he wears under his scrubs. Without your permission, your lip finds its way between your teeth, unable to look away from how affected he is.

Guess you aren’t the only one nursing a little crush.

But duty calls, and you untangle from each other as fast as you’d gotten pressed together. Robby sends the med student away with a curse and a barked out order that’s a little too sharp for the poor guy.

The alarms around you are still blaring, doing wonders to tuck your collision somewhere in the back of your mind and snap you back into attending physician mode. Taking the head of the bed, you keep Robby and his residents updated on vitals as they work on figuring out why they’re dropping.

Both water skiers make it.

– – – – –

After 12 weeks of alternating the night shift with Shen, you find yourself in one of the bars down the street, where the usual post-shift drink had turned into somewhat of an unofficial going away party. It's early evening and the mood is mellow, with people trickling in and out all night depending on change of shift.

Halfway through the night, when things have significantly quieted down, you spot Robby by the bar, freshly showered by the looks of it. It’s the first time you see him out of his scrubs. He’s swiveled around on his stool, bottle of beer in his hand. The moment your eyes find his, he turns his gaze away, staring straight ahead instead. He looks sad, but not in his usual puppy dog way, more like he’s… pining. When you follow his line of sight, it lands directly on–

Of course.

Before you know it, you’re making your way over with quick strides, a grin you can’t hide plastered on your face. When you reach him, you open your mouth–

“Don’t,” he begins with a scoff, “even start.”

“What?” you say innocently, tucking yourself between him and the open stool next to him, leaning back against the bar. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Saw the little…,” he gestures at your feet, “...pep in your step as you came over. Can’t imagine what’s swirling around that head of yours.” 

“Can't help it, you have no idea what working the night shift with Ellis and Walsh as much as I have does to a person.”

“I do, that’s what’s got me worried,” he laughs. “You only have Mohan down there to keep you sane.”

Air puffs out your nose at that. “Speaking of.. What’s her deal? Sometimes she gets this… look on her face; Ellis describes it as looking like she just made the saddest realization.”

“She works in the emergency department,” Robby reasons.

“No, it’s more than that.”

Robby sets his beer down with a hum, then folds his arms like he’s hugging himself and closes one eye in thought, “Is it after someone brings up Abbot?”

Your time to think. “Now that you mention it…,” you say, going over your interactions in your head, “yes.”

He picks his bottle back up with a knowing nod. “She switched to the night shift a couple weeks before Abbot’s accident, looked real sad about his injury and the prospect of not seeing him for months. Think she’s harbouring some… warm feelings.”

“What about you?”

Robby grins. “I do not harbour warm feelings for Doctor Abbot.”

You give him an exaggerated fake laugh. “Just for someone else.” 

Robby takes a swig from his bottle, giving you a long look and swallowing thickly. It’s enough to make you straighten up, confused eyes narrowing before you use them to gesture at his resident. 

“Are you gonna make a move on her, or are you just gonna keep staring at her?”

He sighs deeply, like he knows better than to answer, but he does it anyway, “It alllll depends.”

“Oh, yeah?” You bring your drink up to your mouth. “On what?”

“If you are going to make a move on her.” 

It makes you spit your sip back into your glass with a choked sound. Fuck, okay, he’s more observant than you gave him credit for, noted. Robby smiles against the rim of the beer bottle pressed against his lips.

You gather your composure with a shrug. “It is my last day.”

“That it is,” he says with a slow nod.

Silence stretches between you when your mind prompts you with something–something you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since Labour Day weekend. This is kind of the perfect day to bring it up, to gauge Robby’s temperature and act on the tension that’s been present between the three of you ever since the incident.

You need an extra sip of your drink first, though.

As you do, you flick your eyes to the side and find Robby fidgeting with the collar of the brown button down he’s wearing.

“We could both make a move on her,” you broach carefully.

“Absolutely not,” Robby snorts immediately, turning his head to face you. Then, more seriously, “We are not… competing over one of our residents.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Pff, my job, maybe,” he puffs out quietly. 

“C’mon, you were with Heather and that didn’t cost you your job.”

“How do you even..? That was diff–” Realizing he took your bait, he licks his top lip, then swipes a hand down his face, scratching nervously at his beard before pointing back and forth between the two of you, “Because we’re not 20-somethings in med school, that’s why.”

You roll your eyes, take another sip. Like you need the reminder. “No one said anything about being each other’s competition.”

That catches him off-guard. The hand holding his beer hovers in the air, forgotten in its journey from his lap to his mouth.

You continue, “We could, I don’t know… double team he–”

“Please, don’t– Fuck. We can not fucking,” he lowers his voice to a hiss, “double team her.” 

Your eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in a way that says, Sorry I even considered it! With a large gulp, you finish your drink and put the glass on the bar behind you, willing the dent he put in your ego away. If Robby doesn’t want this, that’s fine, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. “Message received. I’ll make my move then.”

After two steps, a firm hand closes around your bicep, slowly dragging you back. Your pulse jumps as he twists you around.

“Wait… a minute. I just…” Robby’s gaze darts between her and you, and back. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because I’m there.” 

He signals with his eyes, implies… something, but what, you have no idea. Puzzled, you look at him, your brain going over the possibilities as your tongue passes over your bottom lip. If it’s not about you, and not about her, is it a self-esteem thing? Does he not know his whole… well, everything, does it for a lot of people? 

A little flush creeps up his face the longer you wait, until he can’t take it anymore. “Oh, for the love of– I’m a man.” 

Air escapes out of your nose at the comment. He can't even look at you after he says it. A smile threatens to curl at your lips, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep it from morphing into a full blown grin; you don’t want to make him feel bad because god, that’s actually really fucking cute…

“Robby,” you begin, stepping closer so that you’re standing in between his legs. You reach up, take the folded-over collar of his shirt between your fingers to feel if the fabric is as soft as it looks (it is). Robby’s breath hitches when you do, eyes flicking to your exploring hand for a moment. “Man, woman, anything in between… I don’t care, I like everything.”

Something changes in his eyes, like your words flip a switch in him, but not the usual switch that flips in men when you tell them you’re bisexual. This isn’t excitement over the prospect of potentially seeing you with another woman, even though that is on the table right now. It’s more about… the realization that you’re attracted to him, that you are included in the deal. It makes you shiver, more so when his eyes drop to your mouth, only for a second.

“So, unless you’re this slow in bed,” you tease, “should I go present our case to her?”

The hand around your bicep tightens, and you swear he growls. “No. I’ll settle our tabs and then I’ll fucking go to her. You go say your little goodbyes to everyone, it'd be rude not to.” He’s so close you can feel his warm breath fan out over your lips, “And once we get to yours, or mine, or hers–I don’t care where, I will show you exactly–”

“Easy,” you say, dragging the word out with a chuckle, his change in demeanour making you feel warm. “She goes first. And then we’ll see what happens.”

– – – – –

“Are you sure you’re sure?” you ask her on the way.

Robby’s behind the wheel of her car, driving towards her address she rattled off to him; he put the two of you in the back to catch up on what he told her. He hums in agreement. “Cause I can just… drive you home, we’ll get a cab, it won’t be a big deal.”

“And let you two have all the fun without me?” she laughs. Her hand finds your thigh. Unfair. “No.”

You stop her. “I’m serious.”

“And I appreciate that,” she says, voice losing its teasing lilt, turning her hand under yours and taking it with a squeeze, “but I want it, so you can stop worrying and start kissing me.”

“Okay,” you nod, watching her as she cups your cheek and leans in, a waft of her perfume, or maybe it’s the shampoo she uses, making it to your nose. Focus. “But um, anytime you want–”

“I know. I will. Now, kiss me,” she whispers, close enough that her eyes cross a little. “Please?”

A deep sigh sails from you the moment you finally close the distance, weeks of piled up tension finally coming to this moment–clearly inevitable, now that it’s here. Her lips are soft, and when you swipe your tongue over the seam of her lips, you taste a hint of some fruit-flavoured drink she had earlier tonight. She parts for you immediately, moaning as you close your lips around her bottom one with a suck, before letting your tongue meet hers.

“Fuck.” 

It comes from the front seat. Robby’s brown eyes look at you via the rearview mirror, flick to the road, and then back. 

“Are we far out?” you ask, kissing down her neck, enjoying the way she sighs, cups the back of your head, and tilts hers to give you more room.

“Almost there,” comes the gruff reply.

“Then step on it.” You make your way back up to her mouth. “You’re gonna want in on this.”

– – – – –

Her apartment is cute, quaint in an old-fashioned way, and you like it, it suits her. You stumble into the living room positioned much like that day you crashed into them in the hospital; Robby walking backwards, led by her steps as much as her kisses, and you at her back, hands on her waist and pressing your lips to her neck, her shoulder.

Before you can fully consider if her bedroom is anything like the rest of her place, Robby trips, the three of you landing on the couch instead, and you realize you’re not gonna make it to the bed. It’s impractical with three people, but there’s gentle laughter and the soft, yellow light of a lamp she flicks on, and you make it work. She certainly makes up for it in eagerness, dividing her time between you equally.

Robby manoeuvres her against one of the armrests, pulling at her clothes until her bottom half is bare, and pushing her top up to expose her tits. In no time, they’re glistening in the dim light, the skin rubbed slightly raw from the time he spends with his face all over them. Just as you've pulled your shirt off and rolled your jeans down, Robby's satisfied with his work. 

He pulls his hand from between her legs and drags you to them with a, “Got her nice and wet for you.” And as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, he moves back so you can take his place. 

To say you’re dying to taste her might be a bit of an exaggeration, but you do feel spit pooling on your tongue at the idea. You make your way down her body, soothing Robby’s assault on her skin, pressing kisses to some of the cute little freckles scattered across her torso and then on the curls that cover her pussy. 

Her legs widen to give you more room, and it really shouldn’t make you feel as smug as it does. Under other circumstances you would have taken some more time with her, but when you use two fingers to spread her open, your eyes glaze over a little at the sight of how Robby's prep has her dripping, and you can’t help yourself. 

You drag your tongue up between the V of your fingers, flattening it against her opening with a groan to really taste her. She’s sweet, soft yet slippery in a way that makes your blood pump. And she’s vocal, a little sigh or moan escaping her lips with every pass of your mouth. But it’s nothing compared to the pleased grunt she lets out when you tell her how much you’ve wanted to taste her for weeks.

Robby hovers behind you, the sound of his clothes rustling after the clink of his belt buckle filling your ears. Then the couch dips, and slowly, he plants a knee between your legs, scooting forward until his thigh meets the fabric between your legs. You can feel the line of his boxers, the press of his bulge against your ass. His hands close over your hips, pulling you harder against him and then he just… stays there, holding you in place. 

You slow down with a frown. It feels good, the little barrier between you beginning to soak through with the pressure, but–

“Just… keep going,” he says, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear.

He’s using that voice, you realize. The kind of soothing tone that he’d use on a patient… right before pulling a dislocated shoulder back into place. He’s attempting to lull you into a false sense of security and it instantly has you on edge. 

“Fuck, please, that feels amazing,” comes from in front of you when you gently circle the tight bud under your tonue. Her hand reaches down to cup your face and hold you in place, while the other pinches at her own nipple. “Stay right there.”

Giving her your best attempt at a nod, you concentrate on keeping your rhythm instead of on Robby’s dislocated shoulder voice, to give her enough to please, but not enough to get her off just yet. But it’s hard, because Robby is still toying with the elastic on your hips, fingers dipping underneath and back out in a pattern you can't quite discern, and it’s fucking distracting.

When your resident’s hips begin bucking up, Robby’s hand finds the back of your head, his whole palm big enough to cup it, which is also very hard to push from your mind. His fingers twist into your hair and move you until you’re shaking your head between her soaking thighs, your tongue lolled out as you pass it over her clit again and again. 

It helps to get lost in her, how wet your chin is getting, how her arousal is smeared across your lips, your cheeks, your nose… until, without letting go, Robby shuffles back a little. You let out a whine, instantly chasing the pressure.

“Give me…,” he yanks your underwear down to mid thigh, “...a second,” then presses his bare thigh against your soaked folds.

You jerk against him, the surprised moan it tears from your throat filthy and loud, echoed by your resident only moments after. Robby chooses that exact moment to let go of your head, hands finding your waist to put an arch in your spine and angle you down using his bodyweight, and you’re helpless to stop it. It makes you slide along the hard muscle of his thigh, grinding you against him in a way that rubs your clit just right, and… 

You come.

It isn’t anything big, just a steady throb that comes with the friction on your clit after all that continuous pressure. It does nothing to douse the twinge of arousal pooling in your belly–borders more on the painful side of pleasure. Most of all, it pisses you off.

“I said her first,” you snarl, your head snapping back at him as you let two fingers take over for your mouth.

“Could’ve just waited,” Robby shrugs, and he looks so annoyingly smug, smiling down at you, still holding you tight against him–he can probably feel you fluttering. “I can’t help it that you’ve got such an eager pussy.”

Jesus fucking Christ, maybe you underestimated him. Maybe you should have left him in the bar. 

Then again, you’re more turned on than you ever remember being.

“When you get a taste of her you’ll see why it’s so hard to concentrate,” you attempt to quip.

“Make her come and I will,” Robby challenges, and this time when he pulls his leg back, it feels like relief.

With a huff, you turn your attention back to the woman in front of you, attempting to find your bearings by pouring equal parts arousal and frustration into doubling your efforts. Your middle finger slides inside of her with ease, and with the next thrust, you fold your ring finger over it and curl up to massage the soft walls of her cunt. The sound she makes in return is exactly what you were looking for, irritation making room for desire–to make her feel good, to make her come undone.

Having done this plenty of times, you don’t need any pointers, and you’ve barely started or she’s already begging for it. This is your favourite part, when they plead with you not to stop, ask for your mouth and “just a little more,” when you’ve got them on the precipice and it’s up to you to tip them over the edge. So, you do, sucking her clit back between your lips, and watching her intently while your fingers find that spot inside of her and push until she’s crying out.

You can feel Robby leaning over you, moving closer and closer, and if you weren’t so preoccupied with the grinding against the push of your tongue, you’d be able to come up with a clever comment about his reading glasses. After a few more passes, you pull back with a smack, her answering desperate sound music to your ears. 

“Come here,” you say, and you reach for Robby, grabbing him by the jaw to draw him in. 

Taking the spot to the left of you, he shuffles closer until her calf rests over his shoulder and you’re both on your stomach with a premium view. His large palm slowly travels along your back, sliding from left to right, fingers flitting over your ribs, using his grip to keep you pinned to his side. He’s helping you keep your balance, you realize, making sure you don’t roll off the side of the couch. It makes your eyes flutter when he takes advantage by letting his touch ghost along the side of your breast. 

“It’s not every day you see something like that,” he says, effectively redirecting your attention from his wandering hand to the two fingers that are still curled inside your resident.

Carefully, you pull them out, the both of you watching as little strings of milky-clear arousal web between your digits. You use them to find her clit, mixing your saliva with her come, watching her spit-slick hole twitch when you do. She gasps, trying to squirm away, but quickly realizes she has nowhere to go when two different hands shoot up to keep her in place.

“Stop teasing,” she protests hoarsely.

It’s hard to take it to heart when she looks dizzy with arousal, her chest still rising and falling at a rapid pace, and makes a weak attempt at closing her legs.

“You’re fun to tease,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh that's both meant to soothe and to keep her spread open. It makes her muscles jump under your touch. “So sensitive.”

Robby lets out a shaky breath. “Can’t blame her after seeing what your mouth can do.” 

The small victory makes something hum in your brain, but it’s short-lived when his fingers flex against you again.

“I want to see what your mouth can do,” you confess, head turning and watching as his jaw ticks. Your thumb strokes along his beard, nail scraping over some of the greys between the dark hair, and you struggle to fight a smirk when his lips part. “I can guarantee you she’ll love this.”

A soft little, Oh, please, sails up from above you, and you grin, using your grip on Robby to push him against her soaked folds. 

He shuffles closer after the first contact, mouth falling open to engulf her pussy when you let go of him. Pinned in place, you watch with quiet curiosity as he gets to work. 

Though there’s overlap, his technique is different from yours. Where you’re more about spit, long lines and swirled circles, using the flat of your tongue, he’s more… rigorous, harsh sucks to her clit that make her keen, quick flicks to it that he can keep up for an impressive amount of time before pushing his tongue inside of her. 

Oh, he’s… He’s good at this.

Before you can think too hard about the added sensation of the bristle of his beard on her entrance, her hand fumbles for the back of your head, pushing you down when she gets a good grip. With a muffled Hmmmpf you collide with her, lips clumsily smearing over her wet skin, your smooth cheek pressed to Robby’s rough one. He grunts when you make contact with him, before pulling away from her clit with a suck and giving you better access.

“No,” she protests, whining as she motions for him to come back. “Together.”

You realize what exactly she’s asking for, and everyone is just fuuuuull of ideas today, apparently? Good ideas… You can't deny she’s kind of an evil genius for making this work so well for her.

It’s new territory for you, but you could spend the whole night between her legs and not complain, so you look at Robby, raising your eyebrow in question to see how he feels.

There’s a lazy grin on his face, and his head cocks with a shrug, “You’re the one who wanted to double team her.” 

The chuckle you let out in response is mostly air, and you draw your lip between your teeth while shaking your head. He’s such a bastard for revealing this information to her now, when she’s spread out and desperate, all but begg–

“Fuck me,” she growls. “Then do it. Please.”

It takes a moment to find the right approach, to divide your attention equally without constantly getting in each other’s way. 

You don't want to compare it to work, nothing about this is like dealing with trauma patients, but… it is kind of like it. Let's say it’s definitely a testament to how attuned to each other you have become that you make it work. 

When he focuses his attention on her leaking entrance, your tongue finds her higher. When his mouth slides back up again, yours travels along the crease between her thigh and pelvis, down until you can suck a mark into the curve of her ass. It becomes this dance, but you're both leading, both anticipating each other's moves and adapting while your resident's moans rise in pitch.

Robby's arm curls around her thigh to keep her down when she arches up. “You wanted it like this…” he says when he pulls back, working his jaw and pursing his lips before spitting down on her, “...so take it.” 

She shrieks at the action, cursing afterwards with a shudder in her voice.

Your body, naturally, reacts more like you just got shot in the gut; a pang of arousal in your stomach that pulses and twists, a surprised intake of your breath to match.

Who the fuck is he right now?

What the fuck he does next is chase the glob of saliva as it trickles down her clit.

But you're… locked in place, following his moves until he pulls away and twists his head to you like he's wondering where you are.

His eyes are hooded, pupils pushing out the brown of his irises, and his mouth hangs open, the bottom half of his face damp and shiny. It makes whatever's been brewing between you since the revelation in the bar impossible to ignore. In another momentary lapse of reason, and thinking more with another part of yourself than with your brain, you kiss him–it’s more of a collision really, hard pressed, but that’s what makes it so good–

“Fucking… finally,” Robby growls.

Correction, that’s what makes it so good. 

You use the words to lick into his mouth with a slow flick and a sound you're not proud of, but it's all worth it when his tongue glides against yours, and you feel his facial hair brush your lips, and god, you'll never tell him but he's right, you should have done this sooner. 

He tastes like her, and there’s a conflicting feeling to it; excitement at the notion that he can probably taste the same thing on you, but also something… possessive, like you want to keep kissing him until you taste him. 

The quick reminder of her makes you slip your thumb between the slide of your tongues, before reaching blindly for her, letting Robby take control over your kiss as you press the wet digit against her clit. 

“Just like that,” she sighs, her hand finding your wrist, guiding you where she needs it and keeping you there. “‘s gonna…gonna...”

But then Robby makes a protesting sound in reply. 

He lets go of your side, pushing your hands away before cupping the back of your neck to direct you both back to her pussy. It’s a dizzying, three-way kiss; messy, and so slippery, and what the hell, for someone who shuddered at the words “double team”, Robby’s pretty fucking exceptional at it.

“Ohhhh, myfuckinggod,” she squeals, clearly in agreement, followed by a giggle that morphs into a groan. “It looks so fucking hot, please– Oh, please don’t stop, please make me come like this.”

The hand on your neck squeezes, holding you down so you can't do anything but work her together–not that you want this to stop anyway, it's a very, very clear winner in the Hottest thing that has ever happened to you-competition. 

You keep going until your head is swimming, until you have no real idea whether your tongue curls around his, or around her pulsing clit. Vaguely, you register Robby’s fingers pumping in and out of her, but don’t have much time to wonder how you missed that, because when he pulls them out with a grunt, she’s coming.

You feel her orgasm more than you hear it, warm and wet as she desperately grinds herself against your faces; the vibration of Robby’s answering groan as his hold on you wavers; the thud of your knees against the floor as you slip off the couch, gravity forcing you off her as you heave a desperate gasp.

Robby manages to chuckle, eyes flicking down at you before dedicating himself to working her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

“Holy shit. That was good. Thank you,” she pants, running a hand through his hair as he nips at her thigh. 

She makes an attempt to reach for you, but her arm just rolls limply off the couch, joining the leg that came down with you. 

“I need to lie flat. If only there was a doctor around…” she grins, “...it appears I've lost all sensation in my extremities.”

“I gotcha,” Robby laughs. He takes hold of her calf, wincing as he gets up on his knees, and yanks her closer to him.

A bright giggle bubbles up from her throat when she slides down, hair fanning out over the cushions. She’s glowing, with satisfaction and a thin sheen of sweat; she looks even more beautiful than she already was.

You're still kneeling next to the couch, watching as Robby does exactly what you would do: kiss his way up her body until he can press his mouth to hers. After, he whispers something you can’t hear, something that makes her cup his cheek and smile with a nod. He kisses her neck, little brushes of his mouth as he grinds himself against her. 

He's still wearing his boxers. They must be ruined by now, if not from his own arousal then definitely from the way he's rutting up against her pussy. You want to see it. Mostly to see what's under it, because he felt big against your ass, and–

You pull your underwear from your legs, giving yourself more room to push a hand between your legs. You can already feel your arousal as your fingers inch up the inside of your thighs, slippery trails of where it’s leaked down in just the short time you’ve been kneeling.

“Get back on the couch,” Robby says suddenly, head turning to you.

“I kind of like the view,” you say, grinning when his eyes drop to where you're touching yourself.

He beckons you closer with a crook of his finger while moving to sit back on his haunches.

You shuffle closer, looking up at him. “I want to watch you fu–”

“I want that, too,” he assures you, and before you can scold him for never letting you finish a thought or a sentence, he's bending down to kiss you again, and your mind goes quiet. He holds you by the neck, thumb and ring finger at the corners of your jaw, pulling until you have no choice but to stand, then murmurs, “So would you just fucking… listen to me? Be good and sit on her face.”

Your shiver at the words, eyes flicking to her, and she responds by opening her mouth and showing you her tongue, and god, yeah, another great idea.

Your legs wobble, and Robby’s hands fly to your waist, guiding you to her with an amused look on his face that shouldn’t turn you on.

You can't believe you worked with these people for a good chunk of your 12 week stint at PTMC. Earlier, you wished you’d done this sooner. Now, you’re certain you wouldn’t have survived if you had.

You can’t help but hiss when your pussy makes contact with your resident’s perfect, warm tongue. She flicks at you once, twice, before she tugs you down on top of her, that mouth that has made you laugh so much opening under you to pull a deep moan from your throat instead. 

“There you go,” Robby rasps as he lets go of you.

Their combined attention makes you melt, some of the tension that always comes with this position slipping away, making you slump and take a more firm seat. With your eyes cast down, and a hand cupping your own breast, you watch her, the pink of her tongue peeking out from between your legs every now and again. 

After a couple passes of her tongue, she suddenly moans, nails digging into your thighs. Your eyes shoot up to watch Robby, slumped over, his little quiff matted down, one thumb hooking the waistband of his boxers down far enough to have taken himself out. The condom he rolled on while you were occupied gives his shaft a shine, like he’s already covered in her slick; the tip of him pressed to her entrance definitely is. 

You were right when you felt him earlier, but maybe thick is a better word to describe him–thick in a way that… yeah, that would have you a little worried for her if you hadn’t spent the better part of this rendezvous with your tongues between her legs. Still, she squirms when he slips the head inside, one moan loud and clear in front of you, another trapped against your cunt. 

Seeing them both so affected changes your demeanour, like no longer being the very center of attention is giving you more freedom to play with them a little. To be sure, you lift a knee, plant a foot into the cushions. She gasps when you lift off her, and you can’t help but smile at the way she arches up to chase after you. 

“Are you okay, honey?” you ask, stroking her wet chin.

“Yes. It feels– It all feels too fucking good,” she manages.

“Hmm-hmm, I bet,” you nod. “But you can take it,” you say sweetly, before promptly sitting back down. The vibration of her muffled, surprised sound makes you sigh, but the answering moan comes from in front of you.

“Jesus,” Robby says, inching a little further into her. “I didn’t think you’d get… like that.”

You let out an amused huff, because the thing is, you’re not; not often, anyway. You’re content to adapt to what the situation asks of you, and this one has you floating, high on pleasure, on feeling wanted, and watched. And when you think about it, he made it this way.

Your hands find her chest, squeezing at her perfect, plush tits before using her as leverage to roll your hips along her eager mouth. Leaning forward, you let your lips meet that spot in the center of Robby’s chest, the spot where his perpetual flush seems to bloom up from. 

“Like what?” you ask anyway, looking up at him through your lashes, dragging your mouth over the coarse hair that’s scattered all over his torso until your tongue flicks at his nipple.

“So…” He hisses when you bite him, hand fisting the hair at the back of your head to pull you off, “...fucking mean.”

“Takes one to know one,” you say, enjoying the way he uses his hold on you as leverage to fuck her, subconsciously matching the rhythm of your hips to his.

With a tug, he angles your head up, kissing a path down the center of your throat. “Got that fucking right,” he murmurs, before moving to where your neck and shoulders meet and biting at the juncture.

It hurts, but the good kind, where it’s on the tip of your tongue to aks for more. The thing is, he’s been creative so far, and you’re not sure you can handle another surprise. You can feel him grin when he pulls away, like he knows exactly what you were thinking, which, at this point, wouldn’t surprise you; he’s smart, should’ve known he’d be a quick study.

Under you, your resident moves one of her arms from under your thigh, reaching between her legs with a desperate sound. Robby’s not the only quick study; you’ve figured by now she needs the stimulation to come. It isn’t surprising, it's the same for you, but it is helpful information. You reach for her, grabbing her wrist and pinning it to her belly, just out of reach.

“Wait,” you tell her pointedly, shushing her whines and reveling in the way they vibrate against you. Heat begins pooling in your belly as she slides her tongue into you, making something promising simmer deep inside.

“Please,” she murmurs between mouthfuls of your pussy, her hand twitching in your grip. “Can I come?”

It takes everything in you to conceal how affected you are by her pleading when you look at Robby. “Ask him.”

Obediently she asks, “Please, can I come?”

A snarl flickers across his features as he contemplates his answer, and without looking away from you he says, “What was that?” 

“Robby.” It doesn’t sound like her; an octave higher, drenched in desperation. “Please.”

He waits a second… two… three. “Yes,” he says, eyes glazing over with something darker when she thanks him. 

In a flash, you bring your free hand up to your mouth, getting the pads of three fingers wet before using them to strum at her clit, rapid flicks from left to right that make her writhe under you, another shriek landing muffled against your cunt. 

Robby’s reaching the end of his rope too, you can tell by the way his thighs shake as he frantically tries to keep fucking her.

You work together, looking down, leaning closer until your foreheads are pressed together, her little moans rising in pitch until she's shuddering beneath you, another orgasm pulling her under its current.

“Fuckfuckfuck, it's– She’s squeezing me so…” Robby trails off with a rumbling sound, eyes snapping shut before he pants out, “I’m gonna come. Tell me w–I need to know–oh.”

You sit up, giving her some reprieve and ask, “Where?”

“Fuck, come on my tits,” she says, pushing them together.

Robby pulls out of her, tearing his condom off with a snap!, scrambling to straddle her waist. He's red all over, his cock nearly purple at the tip, eyes glued to her chest as he strokes himself.

Your eyes zero in on the way his fist moves over his cock, quick, squelching flicks from root to tip. He’s leaking, steady drops of precome oozing from the head of his cock and the more you watch him, the greedier you get.

“Let me do it,” you say, tongue passing over your palm and reaching down.

His free hand catches it, voice straining with effort as he says, “Wait, I–”

“Robby, stop it,” you say, pulling yourself free. “Let me do it, I need to do it.”

Your hand has barely closed around his or he’s coming, a deep surprised moan tearing from somewhere deep in his chest as he twitches in your grip. Your eyes widen, tingles of excitement fluttering through you as the first thick rope of it shoots up against your belly, the rest ending up on your resident’s tits.

He exhales heavily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace after. “I said wait,” he grits out after a couple of panting breaths, his hand slipping out from under yours.

“Could've just done that,” you retort, still milking him, enjoying the way he grunts as the last dribbles of come ooze from the head of his cock. “I can’t help it that you’re so sensitive.”

“Oh, fuck you.” It comes out half groan/half chuckle, and actually sounds like he's kind of impressed with you. Then suddenly, he's more serious, “Oh, you need to– Slower, slower,” a shaking hand closes around your wrist. “‘s too much.”

“Surprised you held out this long in the first place,” you smirk, following his instructions, slowing to a halt and letting go as he starts to soften in your hand. “Thought for sure I’d end up somehow having to finish the job.”

“Hmm, no, don’t have to worry about that with me,” he says, with a lazy grin. He redirects his attention to your resident. “You okay?”

“I’m fucking great,” she grins, still sounding a little dazed. She reaches for you, grabbing at your thighs. “I just need you to sit back down.”

Before you can properly prepare for it, you’re pulled back onto her mouth, a surprised huf sailing past your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as she laps at your swollen clit, your concern for your own pleasure rushing back to the font of your mind now that everyone else’s is taken care of.

You reach for her hand, leading it up your torso to your chest, where she squeezes your breast, massaging the soft skin before pinching at the peak. The sharp pain mixes perfectly with the swirls around your clit, and with every tweak and swipe, she makes you barrel towards the edge faster and faster. 

Your eyes fly open when Robby’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing, seemingly just… holds you to hold you. And he watches, lets his gaze rove over your face, eyes flicking down the length of your body and back up. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yeah. We–oh, f-fuck–made the right call with her.” You barely get the words out or she wiggles her hand between your legs to let two of her fingers slip inside you. 

Robby hums, “We did.”

Slowly, you start rolling your hips, meeting the curl of her fingers. You bite your lip, a little frown forming between your brows when that familiar sense of pleasure starts blooming from somewhere deep inside of you. You don’t even really have to chase it–it’s more like it’s chasing you.

“Oh,” you gasp, clutching at Robby’s wrist to have something to hold on to. “Oh, you’re doing perfect, it’s gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” Robby’s brow arches. “Gonna show me this time, hmm?”

Fuck. You nod as her tongue flicks faster and faster, making your hips twitch. It’s nothing like the first one–it’s the complete opposite, like it never stops building until it does, suddenly, in a way that seems to push all the air out of you as you gasp, gasp, gasp…

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Robby says, his grip on you forcing you to hold his gaze. “Show me how pretty you look when you come– There we go.”

Goddamn him.

It’s like an avalanche, a loud, vibrating groan rumbling out of your chest as your muscles clench and you push your hips down harder. It seems to reach you everywhere, your thighs quivering, heat tingling up your spine, and your hand scrambles to hold Robby by the shoulder to make sure you don’t topple over. His face becomes a little blurry as you try desperately to keep your eyes open, as the gentle strokes of her tongue start bordering on too much… until it actually becomes too much.

You scramble backwards, overstimulated, ducking down at an awkward angle towards her panting mouth and giving her a sloppy, upside-down kiss. She clutches onto you, licking into your mouth with enthusiasm as you pour praise down her throat, assuring her how good she made you feel, how beautiful she is. After a couple spit-slick kisses, you pull away, taking in her face and stroking a thumb along her freckled cheek, before kissing it and sitting back against the armrest.

Catching your breath, you watch as Robby hauls her up into a sitting position. She reaches for his face, pulling him into a kiss that’s almost chaste in comparison to the one you shared with her. 

When they part, his eyes find yours over the top of her head. He calls you over in silence, repeatedly opening and closing his outstretched hand. You take it, and he pulls you closer until you’re kneeling behind her. Then, he brings the back of your hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to it and says, “Good job, team.”

It makes all of you laugh.

The aftermath isn’t as awkward as you feared. You drink a big glass of water, share a snack in her kitchen, take turns showering, listen to her and Robby discussing their schedules to figure out when they’ll see each other next… and then you move to the front door to say your goodbyes. 

She kisses you on the mouth before you leave, thanks you as she pulls away. 

When you part ways with Robby when you exit her apartment complex, he does the same.

– – – – –

It's Monday morning, a little over a week later, on your day off. You should use the time to sleep in, not to sit behind your laptop in your kitchen before 7am, but you were up the second you were awake. As you're putting the finishing touches on the sign off of the email you're writing, your phone buzzes.

It’s Robby. 

That’s kind of freaky.

Ellis told me to tell you she misses you on the night shift, he writes.

the kids always miss the substitute once their teacher is back, you reply. how happy was samira to see abbot?

Had to talk her down from organizing a welcome back party.

A smile pulls at your lips. Of course she’d try that. Sweet. how was he? healed okay?

Busy trying not to smile too wide at the cake Samira brought in anyway. Then, Healed okay, just some expected general discomfort left. And, Why does Abbot say he has permanent stock in your medical degree?

You roll your eyes. So much for that. because he’s an asshole.

He doesn’t reply, and with a quick glance at the clock you realize his shift probably began and chaos is ensuing. You put your phone down, checking if your cover letter is in the attachment of the email, if you spelled PTMC correctly in the email address… and it looks like everything is in order. 

Then your phone buzzes again. This time, Robby’s calling.

“Do you want to hear the story that badly?” you answer with a chuckle. “Because I promise it’s not that–”

“I absolutely want to hear it, but… not why I’m calling.” You wait for him to say more, and hear him sigh deeply before asking, “Can I see you this week?”

You suck in some air through your teeth. “Missing me already, Doctor Robinavitch?”

“I uh, had this dream about you, the kind where I…,” he pauses with a chuckle, and you kind of hate how you can picture him; head tipped down, hand scratching at the short hairs at the back of his head, “...had to do something about it when I woke up. Was almost late for work.” 

Oh, fuck. You didn’t expect him to say that. Instantly, images flood your mind of a nondescript bedroom, Robby tangled in bed sheets, still sleepy, thinking about you, rutting against the mattress, maybe even with his hand around his–  

“Jesus, Robby…,” you huff, snapping yourself out of it while your cheeks begin to feel warm. Then, you think about her, and you bite your lip before asking, “What about your R3?”

“Wasn’t in my dream,” he says simply. “She’s seeing someone from neuro. At least, I believe they're neuro.”

“So I’m just second choice all across the board, huh?” You aim for a joke, but oof, ouch, you actually kind of hurt yourself with that one… Closing your eyes with a sigh, you try to come up with a way to save it, but Robby’s already speaking.

“You know,” he begins, and he sounds amused, and you hate him, “someone as smart as you should know not to make assumptions.”

“Huh?”

“I’m calling you, not her,” he says, then adds quietly, “Ellis told me I looked… sad– Actually, she said I looked like I just made the saddest realization.”

Well, first of all, few times Robby doesn’t look like that. Second, and once again: Huh? 

“After she brought you up to me,” he continues.

That makes something click in your brain: He’s talking about the Samira look, the look you told him about in the bar, about her harbouring– Wait. Your entire body goes rigid as the realization kicks in. And then it floods with something pleasant, something that tingles and makes you giddy… 

Warm feelings.

Robby’s voice sounds a little unsteady on the other side of the line when he breaks the silence you put between you, “But you can just tell me the story, and we can pretend this conversation was just that. No hard feelings.”

“I’m free tonight, if you want to hear the story. You can come over after your shift, and…” with a hum, you pretend to think, letting your mouse hover over the ‘send’ button on your job application email, then continue, “...who knows what else I might spill should I be… How should I put it, properly motivated? Suitably loose? Nicely–”

“stuffed?” he finishes for you, voice soft, and deep, because he’s at work but he can’t help himself; he’s calling you about a wet dream he had about you that was so good he had to get himself off after, and making confessions, and the whole thing is actually really getting you goi– “Yeah, text me the address, I’ll fucking be there.”

Click.

He hangs up at the same time you press ‘send’.

– – – – –

Thanks for reading! Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with! I originally wanted to post this for Pride Month, but evidently that didn't work out like I wanted, turns out I have a life and responsibilities (bummer...), but yes, anyway, happy belated Pride Month, friends 💖💜💙!

[ilylillies]

Join COMMUNITY to HELP OUT THIS PERSON.

Martha Bradley (fl. 1740s–1755) was a British cookery book writer. Little is known about her life, except that she published the cookery book The British Housewife in 1756 and worked as a cook for over thirty years in the fashionable spa town of Bath, Somerset.

Two pages from The British Housewife: on the left, an illustration showing three cooks in a kitchen; on the right, the titlepage, with extended title, details of the contents and the publisher's details.

The frontispiece and titlepage of Bradley's 1758 work The British Housewife

Bradley's only printed work, The British Housewife was released as a 42-issue partwork between January and October 1756.[a] It was published in a two-volume book form in 1758, and is more than a thousand pages long. It is likely that Bradley was dead before the partwork was published. The book follows the French style of nouvelle cuisine, distinguishing Bradley from other female cookery book writers at the time, who focused on the British or English style of food preparation. The work is carefully organised and the recipes taken from other authors are amended, suggesting she was a knowledgeable and experienced cook, able to improve on existing dishes.

Because of the length of The British Housewife, it was not reprinted until 1996; as a result, few modern writers have written extensively on Bradley or her work.

Life

Illustration showing seven dishes to have as part of a course, including dishes with carp, lobster, hare, ducks and woodcocks

Illustrated example of a dinner in winter, as suggested by Bradley

Little is known about the life of Martha Bradley, and what there is has come from her single publication, The British Housewife. In the 1740s she worked as a professional cook in the fashionable spa town of Bath, Somerset,[1] and had over thirty years' experience in the job.[2] The publisher of The British Housewife noted that all of Bradley's papers had been stored with him; the food historian Gilly Lehmann considers this shows Bradley was dead by the time the work was published in the late 1750s. Included in the papers was a handwritten family recipe collection.[1] A reference in the work to William Hogarth's 1753 book The Analysis of Beauty indicates that at least some of the book was written after that date.[1]

Based on the recipes shown in her work, Lehmann considers it appears that Bradley had read several contemporary cookery books, including those by Mary Eales (Mrs Mary Eales's Receipts, 1718), Patrick Lamb (Royal Cookery, 1726—the third edition), Vincent La Chapelle (The Modern Cook, 1733) and Hannah Glasse (The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, 1747).[1] The recipes from these have all been changed and improved from the originals, with a reduced set of ingredients and simplified instructions;[3][4] according to the food writer Alan Davidson, this showed she had been knowledgeable and able in her chosen career.[5] According to Lehmann The British Housewife was more than just a cookery book, but instead was "a complete manual for the housewife, the cook, the housekeeper, the gardener and the farrier, with monthly sections of advice and recipes which cover every aspect of domestic management in the middle of the eighteenth century".[1]

The British Housewife was first published as a partwork in 42 weekly editions,[6] possibly the first cookery book issued in this manner;[7][8] the first issue was on 10 January 1756.[9] The weekly editions comprised "four large half-sheets of printing" costing 3d.[9] The weekly editions would have finished in October that year, and would have cost 10s 6d in total.[6][b] The partworks were advertised across Britain, including Oxford,[9] Leeds,[11] Manchester[12] and Sussex.[13] In the text of the partworks Bradley would advertise the other issues, telling readers "We have in our preceding numbers given the cook so ample instruction for the roasting of all plain joints of meat ... that she cannot be at a loss in any of them".[14]

The work was published in book form in 1758; its two volumes comprised over 1,200 pages.[3][15] Some sources show differing dates. Virginia Maclean's 1981 history A Short-Title Catalogue of Household and Cookery Books Published in the English Tongue, 1701–1800 put the publication date at 1760,[16] but Arnold Oxford's 1913 work English Cookery Books to the Year 1850 listed it as c. 1770 with 752 pages.[17]

The British Housewife (1758)

Illustration showing meats prepared for cooking; meats include hare, rabbit, woodcock or snipe, pigeon, partridge and chicken

Game cuts trussed for roasting; an illustration from The British Housewife

The British Housewife, as published in 1758,[a] contains recipes for fricassees,[19] ragùs (which Bradley spelled "Ragoo"),[20] collops,[21] pilafs,[22] pasties,[23] pies (including oyster and eel),[24] fish dishes,[25] soups (which she spelled as both "soup" and "soop"), bisques,[26] desserts—including puddings,[27] jellies,[28] pancakes,[29] fritters,[30] flummeries,[31] cakes[32] syllabubs[33] and confectionery[34]—and preserved foods, including pickles and jams.[35] Bradley also included a section dedicated to distilling spirits, as well as making wine, beer and cider.[36] Bradley's recipes include most parts of the animal, including the intestines, cockscombs, knuckle, head, heart, tongue, udder, trotters, feet, ears and cheeks.[37] The book also contained a chapter on cures for common ailments, which included a recipe that used powdered earthworm to cure ague.[38]

The British Housewife showed a "sophisticated organisation", according to Davidson,[5] and Petits Propos Culinaires considers that Bradley's "scheme for the education of the cook and housewife was more thorough than any that had gone before".[7] The literary historian Henry Notaker identifies strong pedagogical form and strategy within the book. This is highlighted by Bradley when she writes: "in all studies it is the regular practice to begin with the plainest and easiest things, and from there to arise to such as are more difficult",[39] and she progressed from techniques such as roasting and boiling "and thence leading the cook to the most elegant and difficult made dishes".[39][40] The food historian Sandra Sherman sees a pedagogical form in the layout of the recipes, and notes the "deliberate, reinforcing logic [that] entails the reader's attentiveness in a process that produces results".[41] Sherman sees "a slightly disciplinary edge" in Bradley's approach in ensuring that the readers followed the instructions,[42] and reports that the structure "makes ... [the book's] advice seem consistent, accurate, and acceptable".[43] The culinary historians Anne Willan, Mark Cherniavsky and Kyri Claflin describe Bradley as "the consummate cooking teacher", and her book as "a cooking course that starts with the basics and builds in complexity".[44]

The work was divided into monthly sections and these allowed Bradley to reflect the natural pace of the seasons in line with the available supply of produce for each month. According to Sherman, it was "designed to bring out the best in available provisions, and like such texts it contains elaborate directions for putting foods by".[45] In doing so, the book "integrates food preparation with its production, that is, with gardening and raising animals", and thus provides a holistic approach to food planning and preparation.[45]

As with many of the cookery books of the period, The British Housewife has nationalistic elements.[46] Bradley's recipes strongly favour British ingredients, and there is no reference to French drinks, such as claret, Burgundy or champagne; instead, she calls for home-made turnip or raisin wines, and favours port ten times more than any other wine.[46] Included in the ingredients described as being traditionally English were those imported from the British colonies of Asia, Africa and the Americas.[47][48] Bradley describes how cayenne pepper is "imported ... from the negroes of our plantations. The fruit is common in Africa, they have been accustomed to eat it there, shewed our people the way in America, and they have taught us". The Anglicist Wendy Wall notes that this demonstrated the connection between the British cook and the slave system.[49]

Despite the nationalistic approach, there are strong French influences throughout the book. This includes the French style of a circular dining table, with the symmetrical placement of dishes and plates for a diner's ease;[46] Bradley was one of the very few female cookery book writers in eighteenth-century England to write in support of the French style of nouvelle cuisine.[50][c] Bradley described her aim for the book thus, "Our cook ... will be able to show that an English girl, properly instructed at first, can equal the best French gentleman in everything but expense."[53] Economy and practicality are shown throughout her approach, according to the food historian Ivan Day; he classes Bradley alongside Hannah Glasse and Elizabeth Raffald in this respect. All three showed an economical aspect to their recipes, unlike the male cookery book writers of the time who, Day observes, "liked to show off with a flamboyant style of cooking".[54]

Although Bradley gave support for some aspects of French dining, she was also happy to criticise the French's approach to certain dishes, including their habit of using ingredients that have the effect of hiding the flavour of some elements of the dish.[55] At the end of a recipe for roast capon with herbs, she advises that adding a "raggoo" (a sauce[d]) will make it more fashionable, but not improve it:[57]

The French, who never know when to stop, serve up a capon done in this manner with a rich raggoo about it, but this is confusion, and the taste of one thing destroys that of another. They who would be at the top of the French taste may serve it in this manner, but with gravy it is a very delicate and fine dish, and no way extravagant in the expense.[58]

The French were not the only nation to face criticism; one recipe for roast pork discusses Germanic animal husbandry practices: "The Germans whip him to death, but they deserve the same fate for their cruelty; there is no occasion for such barbarity to make a dainty dish".[59]

The British Housewife contains several illustrations throughout. The frontispiece of the book shows three women working in a kitchen above the motto "Behold you fair, united in this book. The frugal housewife and the experienced cook."[60][61] Other illustrations comprise examples of how to truss cuts of game,[62] samples of menus to have at different times of the year[63] and how to lay food on a table in a pleasing manner.[64] According to Bradley, the illustrations were more than just for decoration; they served the purpose that "even those who cannot read will be able to instruct themselves".[65] When discussing the placement of dishes on the table, she writes: "To please the palate is one design of this branch of study, and to please the eye is another".[66]

The British Housewife has been used as a source in several works of social and food history, and Bradley's recipes still appear in modern cookery books.[e] The book was used in Colonial America[73] and Ireland.[74] The scale of the book—at over 1,000 pages—ensured the work was not reprinted until 1996, which meant it fell out of public knowledge and few modern writers have written extensively on Bradley or her work.[7] Davidson, who considers The British Housewife "the most interesting of the 18th century English cookery books",[5] thinks "one has the feeling in reading ... [Bradley's] work that here is a real person, communicating effectively with us across the centuries".[5] The Anglicist Robert James Merrett considers the work "the most encyclopedic and personally engaged cookbook of the century".[75] Lehmann opines that Bradley's personal involvement in developing the recipes stands out in the book.[1] Writing in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, she considers that:

Bradley is one of the most important cookery writers of the eighteenth century, not only because her book is one of the most comprehensive of its kind but also because she discusses the merits and difficulties of the dishes, gives information on European as well as English cookery, and tells the reader what is old-fashioned and what is up to date. In an age when most cookery books were simply compilations Mrs Bradley's book stands out for the author's personal involvement in her recipes.[1]

[v4mporino]

ask game

1. whats your favorite thing in your room?

2. how tall do you wish you were?

3. what color is your hair?

4. whats a rare fear that you have?

5. are you single?

6. has your heart ever been broken?

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

8. favorite coping mechanism?

9. whats your favorite love language?

10. how often do you get nervous?

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them?

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be?

13. where do you wish to live?

14. what’s something surprising about you?

15. when did you last shower?

16. when did you first join tumblr?

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why?

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had?

19. whats your dream job?

20. whats your ideal date?

21. what do you wish you could do better?

22. what country would you live in if you could?

23. whos the best person you know?

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have?

25. whats your favorite holiday?

26. when have you been most embarrassed?

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

28. what are you best at?

29. do you know how to tie your shoes?

30. do you have siblings?

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know?

32. whats a dealbreaker for you?

33. whats your favorite current class?

34. how many people have you dated?

35. how often do you wash your hair?

36. do you daydream? what about?

37. where do you go to be alone?

38. which parent do you like more?

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to?

40. whos voice do you enjoy?

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be?

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet?

43. what do you wish you never did?

44. do you believe in life after death?

45. do you prefer book over movie?

46. whats your favorite season?

47. whats your favorite time of day

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal?

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently?

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought?

51. do you have your own room?

52. whats your favorite book?

53. who’s someone you hate?

54. whats your best hottake?

55. whats your favorite game?

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear?

57. are you a morning person?

58. do you drink enough water?

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

60. do you enjoy tumblr?

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app?

62. whats your least favorite game?

63. were you a markiplier fan?

64. how do you respond to compliments?

65. whats something that would make you fall in love?

66. do you believe in marriage?

67. do you have a crush on someone?

68. do you like tumblr?

69. were you a voltron stan?

70. whats your favorite ship?

71. whats your favorite song?

72. do you like loud crowds?

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose?

74. how do you sleep?

75. do you bite your lips?

76. do you use chapstick?

77. do you have any pets?

78. what color are your eyes?

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

80. have you ever had surgery?

81. whats your least favorite animal?

82. whats something that youre really bad at?

83. do you have an sqishmellows?

84. do you enjoy fast food?

85. do you like soda?

86. what grade are you in?

87. do you wear any jewelry?

88. what socials do you use?

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now?

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till?

91. did you ever have bangs?

92. what trends did you hate?

93. whats your favorite item of clothing?

94. do you like dinosaurs?

95. whats your opinion on body hair?

96. whats your least favorite time?

97. do you make a wish at 11:11?

98. do you have your phone on military or regular?

99. have you ever been to church?

100. are you lgbtq?

[airaibunny]

PRAISE/SOFT/ETC SMUT PROMPTS

1. “i need you, right here/now”

2. “i’ll go slow/i’ll be gentle”

3. “tell me what feels good”

4. “do you trust me?”

5. “do you like that?”

6. “please teach me”

7. “i want you, now”

8. “you look so pretty on your knees”

9. “it’s okay, im right here”

10. “i got you”

11. “don’t hold it in, it’s okay”

12. “breathe, please"

13. “we can go for as long as you want”

14. “does it taste/feel good?”

15. “you’re doing so well”

16. “i want you, now”

17. “i love you so much”

18. “i want you to fuck me, *name*”

19. “you look so pretty right now”

20. “don’t stop yourself, let me hear”

21. “please don’t stop”

22. “do you want to take it off of me?”

23. “do you want to touch?”

24. “can i touch?”

25. “what about you?”

26. “let me do it for you”

27. “does that feel good?”

28. “you’re so cute”

29. “like that, i like that”

30. “can i touch you too?”

31. “am i going too fast?”

32. “can you do that again?”

33. “do you want more?”

34. “your *body part* are/is so pretty”

35. “do you want to stop?”

36. “i’ve wanted this for such a long time”

37. “aw, poor baby, do you want me to take care of this for you?”

38. “kiss me, i don’t care where”

39. “i don’t care where you touch me”

40. “you looked so hot out there”

41. “are you comfortable?”

42. “let me help you”

43. “do you need help?”

44. “keep going”

45. “you taste so sweet”

46. “do you want to try?”

47. “breathe for me”

48. “you’re doing such a good job”

49. “i’m so proud of you”

50. “tell me what you want”

51. “let me try”

52. “don’t cover up/don’t be embarrassed”

53. “i want you to touch me”

54. “you sound so pretty”

55. “turn around for me”

56. “louder”

57. “quieter”

58. “you look so hot right now”

59. “play with me”

60. “i’ve been waiting all day”

61. “harder, please”

62. “i think i deserve a reward”

63. “you’ve been so good lately, you deserve a reward”

64. “i love your tits/ass/etc”

65. “you’re the only one that gets to touch, pretty girl”

66. “this is exactly how i imagined it”

67. “keep doing that, please”

68. “you feel so good”

69. “kiss/touch me, everywhere”

70. “you’re so gorgeous”

71. “i want you to keep going, forever”

72. “you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”

73. “i want to do so many things to you”

74. “you look amazing, really, but i think i prefer the dress on the floor”

75. “i need you”

76. “i love making you so flustered, you get so cute”

77. “do you like it when i touch right here?”

78. “let me eat you out while you do that, please?”

79. “can you teach me?”

80. “you’re not going to fall, i’ve got you”

81. “shower with me”

82. “i want to taste you so bad”

83. “i don’t care how, i just want you to touch me”

84. “i want to feel you inside”

[strangerexee]

MR. AND MRS. FUSHIGURO — MASTERLIST

Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Fem!Reader

🔪 Genre: Action, Thriller, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Angst, Comedy 📖 POV: Second Person 🔥 Warnings: Violence, Blood, Weapons, Explicit Scenes, Mind Games, Betrayal, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Power Struggles- A lot of stuff...

─── ���⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT I: STRANGERS IN THE DARK (Ch. 1-15)

1. Grocery Store Encounters – A normal day. A normal grocery run. Then Toji walks into your life. 2. The Coffee Shop – You see him again. A coincidence? Or something more? 3. The Art of Watching – A game of cat and mouse begins. You’re both hunters, but who’s the prey? 4. Dancing in the Shadows – A mission goes wrong. Or maybe, it goes exactly as planned. 5. A Gun Between Us – The first real fight. Knives, guns, and something even more dangerous—hatred. 6. Midnight Chase – An assignment forces you to confront Toji head-on. The lines blur. 7. Truce or Trap? – You agree to work together—temporarily. But can you really trust him? 8. Locked and Loaded – You teach him your tricks. He teaches you his. 9. Close Calls and Closer Touches – Tension explodes in an unexpected way. 10. Secrets Under Silk Sheets – A moment of weakness. A moment of passion. A moment that changes everything. 11. Trust is a Loaded Gun – He gets too close. You push him away. 12. Another Mission, Another Mistake – You let your guard down. You regret it. 13. The Kiss That Sealed It – He’s not just a job anymore. He’s something worse. 14. The Night We Became Us – One choice, one decision—your lives are no longer separate. 15. A Dead Man’s Love Letter – The past catches up to you both.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT II: HONEYMOON IN HELL (Ch. 16-35)

16. Mr. & Mrs. Fushiguro – You never wanted a husband. Toji never wanted a wife. But here you are. 17. How to Love a Killer – Toji is difficult. You are worse. 18. Marriage Counseling, Assassin Style – Fighting is easier with fists than words. 19. Bulletproof Vows – "For better or worse" hits differently when guns are involved. 20. Wife, Weapon, Widowmaker – You’re balancing marriage and murder—what could go wrong? 21. Beneath the Bloodstains – He sees a side of you no one else ever has. 22. Fighting or Foreplay? – Who said sparring couldn't be intimate? 23. Dinner with a Side of Danger – Date night turns deadly. 24. Sleeping with the Enemy – You dream of him. You dream of his death. 25. Lies Between the Sheets – There are things you haven’t told him. There are things he hasn’t told you. 26. Jealousy is a Sharp Blade – Another assassin flirts with you. Toji doesn’t like it. 27. Couples Therapy at Gunpoint – Trust is hard when you both have knives behind your backs. 28. A Mission Gone Too Far – You risk your life for him. He hates you for it. 29. Death’s Door and Your Name on His Lips – Toji almost loses you. Almost. Again. 30. The First 'I Love You' Was a Whisper in the Dark – Soft moments don't come easy. 31. Betrayal in a Black Dress – Toji finds out your biggest secret. 32. Revenge is a Lover’s Game – You break his heart. He breaks something worse. 33. No Mercy in Matrimony – You were never meant to be soft. Neither was he. 34. Ruin Me, Darling – The fight that nearly ends it all. 35. Back to Blood and Business – The only way forward is through fire.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT III: TILL DEATH DO US PART (Ch. 36-55)

36. Hunted by Our Own – The agency wants you both dead. 37. Hitman Honeymoon – The world thinks you’re on vacation. You’re really on the run. 38. In the Arms of an Assassin – He saves you. You hate it. 39. One More Kill Before Breakfast – Morning routines, married assassin edition. 40. Megumi – The one thing neither of you planned for. 41. The Last Job – One more kill. Then, maybe, peace. 42. Wife of a Wanted Man – Toji makes the headlines. You make a choice. 43. Between a Kiss and a Kill – Love or survival? You can’t have both. 44. Bleeding in His Arms – You fall. He catches you. 45. Escape Plan – If you leave now, you can live. If you stay, you die together. 46. The Funeral of Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro – You fake your deaths. The world thinks you’re gone. 47. New Identities, Same Hearts – You try to be normal. It doesn’t work. 48. A House with No Weapons – Domestic life is boring. 49. Date Night Disaster – Toji gets jealous again. It’s still hot. 50. Megumi Says His First Word – Fatherhood looks good on him. 51. Killer Instincts Never Die – You promised to stop. You lied. 52. The Hit That Ruined Everything – One mistake. One bullet. One last fight. 53. Toji, Don’t Die on Me – He bleeds for you. 54. We Were Never Meant to be Normal – The truth finally settles. 55. The Final Kill – One last target. One last goodbye.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT IV: THE LEGACY OF TWO MONSTERS (Ch. 56-70)

56. The Next Generation – Megumi starts to notice the truth. 57. Old Habits, Older Scars – You and Toji can’t sit still. 58. Enemies in the Shadows – Someone knows you’re still alive. 59. Back to the Beginning – The past never stays buried. 60. Hunted Again – Running was never the answer. 61. The Love Story of Two Killers – You tell Megumi how it all began. 62. A Family of Assassins? – The question neither of you want to answer. 63. Peace or Power? – The world calls for you again. 64. One More Bullet – Can you ever truly escape? 65. The Final War – Toji vs. the world. 66. Love in the Line of Fire – You always knew how this would end. 67. A Monster’s Goodbye – One of you isn’t making it out alive. 68. A Widow’s Revenge – If Toji dies, you will burn the world. 69. A New Name, A New Life – But can you ever really leave? 70. Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro: The End – Or maybe, a new beginning.

[miyamizuna]

Is it that sweet? I guess so~

Haikyuu boys as lyrics from "Espresso" by Sabrina Carpenter part 1 | part 2 ft. miya atsumu, kuroo tetsuro, semi eita

I can’t relate, to desperation (miya atsumu)

Being the MSBY social media manager means work- especially when it comes to Miya Atsumu. It seems like every other week he gets himself. caught up in controversy. Whether it be him being too touchy with an already-married older actress, or even being spotted on dates with multiple female idols. It’s your job to defend his already poor internet reputation. 

“Y/n~ c’mon now, one date is all I'm askin’! Throw me a bone here!” He pleads for the 5th time today. He was sure to be persistent after the many rejections before.

“Miya, how many times do I have to tell you no?” You sigh as you reject him once more to add onto the tally of 56 rejections over the course of a year. 

Sure he was attractive, what normal person would say no to a 6’1” professional volleyball player? Sadly you know firsthand about his player activities. You understand it though, a young early twenties male is bound to act like this. though the severity of actions vary on a case-to-case basis; he happens to be on the far end of the spectrum. 

“Besides, it’s unprofessional to have a relationship between the two of us. I’m your manager.” You explain to him hoping finally you’d be able to get the message through his thick skull.

“Professional or not, who cares! give me a chance to prove myself! C’mon I've been good recently, no contreveries!” He explains trying to persuade your thoughts.

“If you call being spotted with a married woman in a fancy restaurant ‘good behaviour’, I don’t know what to tell you.” You frown as you avert your eyes from him, back to your laptop, typing out a public apology for Atsumu’s recent events.

With a frown, he steps forward and closes your laptop whilst leaning over your desk. His figure obviously towering over your sitting self. 

“Enough of that, It wouldn’t be the same as those famous women who only want me to have an affair. It’s different with you.” He explains with sincerity as if this time he actually means what he says.

You look up at him with a smirk and now with crossing arms, leaning back on your office chair. “Oh really? Maybe when you give me an easier time with your little affairs, I’ll consider it.”

That's when his face lights up and puts on a stupid grin and leans in closer to your ear. i’m

 “Oh you bet.” He whispers seductively in your ear before pulling away and walking to the door of the office. 

“Well, see ya around Y/n, ya better hold up yer end of this.” He tells you before walking out of your office.

God this man. He's so… desperate for attention!

and I got this one boy, he won’t stop calling (kuroo tetsuro)

42 missed calls. Are you fucking kidding me? You had met this hot guy today at the cafe you work at, he was a tall man in a business suit, kind of built as you could see some of his triceps through the dress shirt, a really classy guy overall, though odd his hair didn’t match the aesthetic. You left your number on his cup just for the slight off chance he wasn’t in a relationship. Clearly, he’s not in one.

You decided to call him back, afterall you were busy with the cafe with the 8 hour shift you had just worked. Now lying on your stomach first, your leg hanging off the bed, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” a male voice says after only one ring. 

“Uhm, Hi. You left 42 calls on my phone.” You informed him as if he wasn’t already aware of what he did.

“Oh yeah, I did do that~” He teases through the phone. “So what’s your name, coffee girl?” 

“It’s L/N Y/N, and you?” You ask with a semi-interested tone returning the energy of his voice.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. Y/n is a pretty name ya know” He flirts through the phone. 

You can just imagine his silly smirk, the same exact one as when he saw the cafe when he read your number, and then the “call me <3” written under it. 

“So I take it you’re not taken as you’re calling me” You suggest as you twirl your hair and kick your legs, god you feel like a teenage girl.

“Nah, I’m not taken. Haven’t really had a girlfriend before, closest was talking stages.” he explains you hear the ruffling of papers in the background. 

So that explains the 42 calls. Takes a man's guts to admit that.

“You don’t exactly know what you’re doing, don’t you~” You tease as you hear a sigh from the end of the phone.

“Well no- I do know what I’m doing! Just I wanted to get to know you- soon!” He fumbles words trying to explain himself which brings a laugh out of you.

“Suuuure…” 

There’s now a long awkward pause in the conversation. In which both of you don’t exactly know what to ask each other next.  

“Soo- Are you a full-time worker at that cafe?” He suddenly asks, speaking up to fill the silence.

“Well no, I’m still in college. I’m going there for an English degree. How about you? You seem like you got a pretty good job.” You explain, then follow up with a question about himself. 

“Well darling, I’m a sports promoter, specifically for volleyball. I work for the Japanese Volleyball Association.” He informs you with a proud tone. 

This does pique your interest, not every day do you meet a guy who works for a sporting association who happens to walk inside a hole-in-the-wall café.

“Well shit, that's cool! Did you play in high school or something?” You ask now, flipping over onto your back to a more comfortable position.

“I did- made it to nationals during my last year.” He answers with a cocky tone. There is more shuffling of papers in the background, maybe he’s still at work-

“Kuroo! We need the papers finalised by tonight!” A voice from the background of his end says with a very demanding tone. Causing him to groan into the phone.

“Well you certainly heard my boss…” He sighs. “Call you back cutie. We still need to finalise our date.” He tells you before hanging up the phone not even leaving time for you to respond to his statement.

“huh…? DATE?” You shout to the void that is your room. 

Man, this guy is confident. Both him personally, and you being too willing to give this man a chance. You know one thing though. You’re definitely going to come back to 42 calls again.

I'm working late bc I’m a singer (semi eita)

Oh, Semi Eita, the lead singer and guitarist of his little band. The foundation of what his band is about all stems from him. His rock style is unique, flashy if you call it. He always felt the need to stand out from others. You know that best as his significant other. Since high school, he’s always been a show-off or tried to be. Because of his show-off nature, he was benched on the volleyball team in his 3rd year. 

Now here he is, slumped over on his office desk at one in the damn morning, struggling to come up with meaning to his new song. 

“You know, Eita, This song must really got you stumped. You haven’t stayed up writing this late in forever.” You smirk leaning on the doorframe to his office. You both know that you’re right.

Eita usually has a set schedule; sleeps at 11 pm, unlike his teen days when he’ll pull all-nighters for fun. He sighs and turns his office chair around. 

“Well, I guess you can say that.” He replies as he tiredly smiles at you. 

You walk over to his desk, the wood planks creek in the silence of night, and lean over his shoulder to look at the song. 

“So what’s this song about?” You ask him while reading the lyrics. 

“A boy who fell in love with a girl and sees her with rose-tinted glasses.” He explains as he taps the pen on the paper every few seconds, clearly in thought.

“Well is she a good person, or a bad person.” You ask, sitting yourself at the corner of his desk. 

He sits at his desk long in thought. “That’s the thing. I don’t really know.” He admits and he runs a hand through his hair, the other hand twirling the pen around.

“Well when you think of this girl, who do you think of?” You ask him whilst  playing with the drawer of his desk that sits above you. 

as he sits there in thought, an idea suddenly pops into his head. There is one girl in particular that comes into his head.

“I think of you.” He lets out with a grin as he ruffles your hair, causing you to let put a laugh

“Me, huh? You really love me that much huh..?” You grin in response to his actions, with a proud tone of voice.

“I guess I do huh?” He smiles at your proud self. “I’ll write about you being the girl who I view in rose-tinted glasses,” He says as she writes down his ideas on the paper, making light scribble noises.

That's just when you get up and try dragging him away from the desk. 

“You know its bed time right?” You tease and you put him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

“I’ll be there soon! Just, let me finish noting these ideas down!” He protests and he doesn’t look away from the page despite what you’re doing to him.

You sigh in response and let go of him. Walking to the door in the process. 

“Don’t stay up too late. We both know how grumpy you get without your beauty sleep.” You tell him in response to his protests. Finding a good opportunity to tease him in the process.

As you walk out of the room, all you can hear is a grumble in response. All for the fact he knows you’re right.

©miyamizuna 2024 do not repost

espresso is my spotify number 1 rn

[desipotterhead18]

Hello Hinny Shippers

Here are my favorite hinny fic recs

[PART 2 ]

Post-DH

1)A new beginning by @startanewdream Summary: Harry and Ginny in the aftermath of the battle, getting back together and deciding to live. Nine pieces following them through May to September of 1998.

2)Private by @thedistantdusk Summary: But it’s part of the job, Ginny reminds herself. She must sit through six of these interviews per year. She must be generally pleasant and polite. She must represent her team well. And above all else, she must not lose her temper. Right.

3)Out of the Mouths of Babes by The_Clockwork_Monk Chapters: 7/7 Summary: Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

4)chinwag by gryffindormischief, fightfortherightsofhouseelves Summary: Harry can't resist a challenge when he's presented with one.

5)gone was any trace of you by @annerbhpnnerb Summary: An accident at work left Harry with a mysterious case of amnesia and a wife he couldn’t remember.ever, neither can Ginny, you see.

6)you don't have to stay by Annerb Summary: They still refer to her as ‘Harry Potter’s girl’ sometimes. Eleven-year-old her would be ecstatic. Twenty-one-year-old her is far less enthused.

7)I'm not on drugs, I'm just in love by Annerb Summary: Wherein Ron is an irredeemable sap, Harry isn’t much better, and Bill is so Over It all (but secretly pleased). Or how Ron’s stag do goes the way most things do when Harry Potter is involved—a quick spiral into violence and heartwarming disaster.

8)One Perfect Day by @pottermum Summary: Harry has the most perfect day.

9)Lost in Japan by lostonplatform934 Chapters: 3/3 Summary: Two weeks, six days, three hours and 42 minutes. That was how long it had been since Harry Potter had seen Ginny Weasley. And the lack of Ginny was thoroughly driving Harry mad. But he's a couple hundred miles from Japan, and he's thinking he could fly to her hotel tonight, 'cause he can't get Ginny off his mind.

10)There's The Silver Lining I've Been Looking For (1991 words) by @justalittleconfusing Summary: Harry's 34th birthday carries more significance than another year around the sun. Ginny is on a mission to figure out why he is being so shifty at his birthday dinner at the Burrow.

11)Teething Problems by pottermum Summary: Sisters! Who Needs Them?

12)Drunk in Love by FloreatCastellum Summary: Harry should have known better than to let George Weasley get him drunk.

13)22 by FloreatCastellum Summary: 'I’m older than my parents now. They were 21 when they died.’

14)The Fairground by FloreatCastellum Summary: In which the Weasleys and Potters attend the local funfair and James Sirius Potter hustles for candy floss.

15)new name by @always_hinny Summary: ginny dealing with having a new name

ff.net

1)Won A Day In The Life  by pottermum

2)wonderfulness What-it's a word, Ginny said so! by pottermum

3) Miss Butter Elbows by JohnMcHacker

Drabbles , Snippets , series

1)Catch Her Snitch! by pottermum Chapters: 102/? 2)Several Sunlit Days: Ginniversary Bingo by @starlingflight Chapters: 19/19 3)Freshly pickled microfic by @ginnyw-potter Chapters: 28/?

One-shots with variable timeline

1)loml by StarlingFlight Summary: One accronym. Two lives. Nine different meanings. Written for corneliaavenue's TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

2)A new beginning by Startanewdream Summary: Harry and Ginny in the aftermath of the battle, getting back together and deciding to live. Nine pieces following them through May to September of 1998.

ff.net

2) The Path to Harry by CharmHazel

3) The Path to Ginny  by CharmHazel

AUs

1)Gin Fizz by Startanewdream Chapters: 2/3 Summary: Ginny doesn't want any trouble. Harry is running away from his. So this is your classic one-night stand.

2)The Hook Up by pottermum Chapters: 5/5, Muggle AU Summary: It's been eight months since Ginny broke up with her cheating ex when she received an invitation to his sister's wedding. She accepts for two reasons, to show her ex just what he's missing out on by looking fabulous, and to hook up. And then she met Harry. Muggle AU

3)Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day? by balmiki Chapters: 2/2 Summary: Prompt - Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day? Ginny goes to pick up a drunk Harry ( AU - they didn't date in Hogwarts).

4)Imposter by @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey Summary: “I’m Harry Potter, nice to meet you.” Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath, not believing her ears. If there was one thing Ginny would recognize everywhere, it would be Harry’s voice. That man wasn’t Harry. And he had the audacity to use Harry’s name to woo a girl in hope to bring her home tonight.

5)Señorita by @celtics534 Summary: Before he even knew her name, he felt the fire between them. One look at those brown eyes and he was hooked this red-haired señorita

6)confessions should be better planned by @takeariskao3 Summary: Harry accidentally submits the wrong photo for his digital photography elective… shenanigans ensue… (best read on a phone, but if reading on the computer, the formatting should translate easy enough)

7)Sorry, Wrong Number! by pottermum Chapters: 5/? Summary: Dialling one wrong digit changed Harry Potter's life forever because sometimes, making a mistake can lead to bigger and better things. This is one of them.

8)Light beam by Startanewdream Chapters: 2/2 Summary: ‘Dad, hypothetically… what would you have done if Mum was Sirius’ sister?’  

[altee-221]

The International Crisis of Carlos Sainz Sleeping Wherever He Wants

It starts, as most things do in Formula 1, with an inshident. Not dramatic. Not a crash. No radio message about tyre deg or race strategy.

No, it starts when Carlos Sainz falls asleep in his car.

Not in the garage. Not during a long debrief. Not between sessions.

On the gravel.

After an FP1 red flag.

Helmet off. Arms crossed. Head back. Asleep.

Sky1 Camera Feed, 11:42 AM

David Croft: “I—I believe we’re looking at Carlos Sainz… taking a nap?”

Naomi Schiff, delighted: “He’s napping in the car. Look at that posture—he’s fully out!”

Martin Brundle: “I once saw Prost do that during a rain delay in ’87, but he had a pillow. Carlos has… nothing.”

Camera zooms in: indeed, Carlos is just... sleeping. Fireproofs slightly undone, boots still on, one hand resting lightly against his seatbelt. Peaceful. Serene. Unbothered by gravel or cameras or Max Verstappen crouching beside the car like he’s seeing God.

The Grid Reaction: Immediate

Lando: “This can’t be normal.” Oscar: “Is he breathing?” Charles: “He does this. You get used to it. He once fell asleep against my suitcase during boarding.” Max (still crouched): “No, but like... do you think he’s cold?” Oscar: “Do you want to give him your jacket?” Max (already unzipping): “Shut up.”

And quietly, from just behind the marshals, there’s Teto. Calm. Holding a folded blanket. Already walking forward like this is exactly what he expected. Because of course it is. He doesn’t say anything. Just sets the blanket across Carlos’s chest with practiced ease, gives Max a subtle nod of acknowledgment, then sits cross-legged beside the car.

Pulls out his phone. Starts scrolling. He’s done this before.

The Next Week: Media Day

Carlos falls asleep on the PR couch.

Not next to it. Not reclining.

On it. Facedown. Half of him on the actual cushions, one leg hanging off, a press officer's clipboard under his cheek like a pillow. He is out cold. Lando walks in mid-interview, sees him, gasps, and just—very gently—places a soft McLaren hoodie over Carlos like a mother bird.

Sky1 cuts the scheduled interview with a rookie to zoom in.

Jenson Button, narrating like Attenborough: “The Sainz has entered Stage 2 slumber. Note the absolute surrender of spine. Only creatures completely confident in their dominance sleep like this in shared territory.”

The Blanket Situation

No one can trace when it started. But everyone knows who’s responsible.

Teto.

He is the blanket guy. He is Carlos’s emergency weather system, mobile sleep technician, and unflinching moral support.

The paddock has theories:

Did Teto custom-order the fleece ones?

Why do they all match Carlos’s eyes?

Does Carlos even know where they come from?

(He doesn’t. He once looked down mid-interview and blinked at the blanket around his shoulders like it had simply appeared.)

Oscar: “I never see him carry them. One minute he’s just Carlos, and the next—he’s tucked in.”

Charles: “Like a sleepy forest prince.”

Lando: “More like a nap threat.”

Max (grumbling): “He looks so safe when he sleeps. It’s unfair.”

The Paddock Protocol: Operation Siesta

Over time, it becomes… a thing.

When Carlos naps, you leave him be. You lower your voice. You bring him water for when he wakes up. You let Teto do his job.

It doesn’t matter where:

On the floor behind the Pirelli tent? Napping.

Curled up under a media table at Silverstone? Napping.

Curled up on the floor behind the tire warmers in Singapore (his foot tucked under Teto’s leg), you guessed it, Napping

Or sprawled across three bean bags and an innocent Oscar Piastri during a driver briefing delay (Oscar did not blink for 19 full minutes),because the AC was just right? Napping.

On Alex Albon’s shoulder during a strategy presentation? Very much napping.

Papa Sainz Cameo: The Ultimate Pillow

When his father is in the paddock, it’s over.

Carlos Jr. doesn’t nap.

He burrows.

He’ll find Papa Sainz in any paddock, any location, and immediately curl up next to him like a sleepy cat. Legs tucked in. Head on shoulder or chest. Sometimes even draping one arm across Papa’s lap like he’s recharging.

The first time it happened, Max walked into the Williams motorhome, took one look, and immediately turned around with a whisper of “nope. I’m not emotionally prepared for this today.”

Charles has a photo of the moment saved in a folder titled “No One Will Ever Be This Comfortable Again.”

One Night at the Factory

It’s late. Everyone’s gone home but a handful of engineers and media staff. The lights are half off. Someone’s finishing a debrief slideshow for the next day.

And then someone whispers, “Shhh—Carlos is asleep in the simulator room.”

Teto is already there, leaned back against the simulator rig. Carlos is curled up beside him, one blanket tucked under his cheek, another across his knees. Teto’s still scrolling on his phone, other hand lightly resting on Carlos’s shoulder. Like an anchor.

Everyone immediately moves softer. Someone dims the screen. Someone else places a folded blanket on the desk near him. The intern who almost bumped his chair gets a quiet thumbs up from George.

No one talks above a whisper for the next twenty minutes.

Sky1 Running Segment: “Where Is He Sleeping Today?”

Episode 1: Carlos asleep between tire stacks, one glove tucked under his head.

Episode 2: Carlos curled up on Charles’s lap. Charles is frozen, wide-eyed, afraid to move.

Episode 3: Carlos in a pit lane equipment cart, legs hanging off, hat over his face like a cowboy from a sleepy Western.

Final Scene: Post-Race Chaos

It’s been a long double header. Everyone’s tired. Logistics is a nightmare. The rain’s started again.

But in the middle of the McLaren hospitality suite—surrounded by backpacks and post-race snack boxes—is Carlos. Curled up, one arm slung over Oscar’s shin, face half-hidden in Lando’s hoodie. Max has draped his own jacket over him like a human tent, and Charles is sitting guard with his arms crossed and an expression that dares anyone to interrupt.

No one does.

Not even the camera crews.

Not even the team principals.

Because there, in the calm eye of the storm, the sun himself is asleep. And everyone—without quite knowing why—feels warmer just knowing he’s resting.

Blanket. Peace. Sainz.

The paddock’s favorite lullaby.

love,

Tee