#Upper lip surgery

[rhinoplasty-surgeon-india]

Who is a Good Candidate for Upper Lip Surgery?

People who opt for upper lip surgery are the ones who have some form of deformity or wish to change its structure. Upper lip surgery cost in India is quite affordable than any other country and thus, people who need it should opt for it.

To understand who is a good candidate for this surgery, all you need to know is details of upper lip surgery along with criteria that people should fulfill. Hence, take a look below for details.

What is upper lip surgery?

This surgical procedure helps in completely rejuvenating the midface to offer a younger feel to people’s lip area. An upper lip surgery helps in providing an improved resting position of a person’s upper lip; also, it increases tissues of the red lip making it more defined and looks fuller. An upper lip lift surgery is a remarkable alternative to lip fillers, which is temporary and requires going through that procedure at regular intervals.

This is a common procedure for people who are in their late 30s or older. In addition, more people prefer opting for upper lift surgery along with lip augmentation surgery for rejuvenating a face’s aging aspects. However, nowadays younger people are also opting for this surgery because it offers a chance of having a fuller and thicker lip. Also, it helps people to have a visible pout.

If you are looking to have the best set of lips, opt for this procedure irrespective of your age as it upper lift surgery cost in India is still quite reasonable.

The ideal candidate for this surgery

People who are outstanding candidates for this surgery are the ones that have thin lips. Also, it is ideal for people whose lips are thinning because they are getting older. Furthermore, people who feel that their upper lip has excessive space and creates issues for facial features. To have the best idea of whether you are the correct candidate for upper lift surgery, visit a doctor and consult. A professional can help you understand ideally. Also before opting for it, know about upper lift surgery cost in India in detail.

[tranny-fragrance]

i really don’t think in our society that you can rlly shave your body 100% fully as a personal choice for yourself

[colorisbyshe]

i was a freakish child because i loved to watch all of the vet shows on animal planet here they did like… open cavity surgeries on animals like i thought it was so cool

but at the same time i had to (and currently have to) look away when getting my blood taken cause i would almost faint if i saw a needle like that

wanna go back in time and psychoanalyze myself a bit cause girlie what…

[richardsonshospital]

Upper Lip Surgery in India | Richardsons Hospital

Discover top-quality upper lip surgery in India at Richardsons Hospital. Expert care, affordable prices, and stunning results await you. Book your consultation now!

[frankenb1rd]

also; I will later be drawing a ref for jasons facial scarring.

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[kamotecue]

jealousy, jealousy ✮ l. walti

summary: in which a certain brunette doesn’t love the fact that someone’s so close to you, or how a certain australian thinks you shouldn’t be with her.

part one, two, three, four, five and six.

you were with jessie & niamh, both teams had to inspect the pitch as usual. if someone were to look closer, you’d notice the hearing aids that you wore.

“another derby day, not an el clasico to what you’re used to—but, don’t get distracted n/n.” niamh teased, as jessie nudged your arm.

“not when we’re playing against the brunette you have a little crush on.” jessie joked, as you lightly glared at her. but they were completely right, ever since hestia had run off in the middle of the park, you had grown closer to the swiss player.

she’d occasionally invite you to her place, vice versa as well—not to mention how you’d snuggle into her side, with her consent of course. she would wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

but you didn’t think much of it, that these actions are just how she treats all her friends, so it didn’t get your hopes up on whatever this is. instead, you were contented whether it was as a friend, a player on the opposing team, you were glad and thankful to be part of lia walti’s life.

as the rest of your team began to head back to the tunnels, your eyes glanced at the stands, wondering if your sister and svigerinne were in the stands. but when your eyes locked with ingrid, a soft chuckle escaped your lips—she was holding tightly on your sister, making sure she didn’t injure herself anymore now that she already had her surgery.

“svigerinne. [sister-in-law.]” you greeted ingrid as they took their seats, to which she flushed at.

“gjør oss stolte. [make us proud.]” ingrid teased, as you gave her a nod. but your eyes were switched to eloise who had an amused look.

“what?” you hummed, as eloise simply chuckled at your shyness. mapi raised her eyebrows at the interaction, to which you dismissed.

you were oblivious to the fact on how close she was, she held onto your wrist as ingrid looked at you in amusement. she knew all about your crush on a certain swiss player as she heard from mapi, that said player was looking at the interaction, how her eyes lingered on your wrist, seeing someone she doesn’t know—holding onto you, sparked something.

what’s worse is that the two of you weren’t even together, she finds your obliviousness cute, but sometimes she’d wish that you’d take notice of the hints.

“leon!” emma’s voice rang, as you gazed at the head coach. she beckoned you to come over, as you gave her curt nod.

“well, see you guys after the game.” you said, bidding goodbye as you jogged over to emma. the two of you walked to the locker room, engaging in different tactics as you listened well.

the game started just like you expected, both teams were eager to score the first point. but you shrugged, giving the opposing team a wink, as you were dribbling the ball closer to their goal, slotting it in the upper right corner—when the ball hit the net, signaling one-nil to chelsea.

you heard cheers from the crowd, as jessie ruffled your hair. whenever you scored, you never celebrated it, as a way to respect your opponents. lia watched with a soft smile, missing the way a certain teammate looked at her.

throughout the first half, you were at a disadvantage due to being tackled by a certain forward whenever she had the chance. you had already passed the ball, when the australian made her way to tackle you, you braced for impact literally landing on your back, as you gasped—absolutely winded by that.

the whistle had blew, as the ref had enough—quickly showing caitlin the yellow card, as she turned to check up on you. you received pats on the back, as you tried to stable your breathing.

“¿cuál es su problema? [what is her problem?]” you asked in spanish, as jessie knelt beside you—millie, the english woman looking at you in concern.

“are you good to play?” millie asked, knowing if you weren’t you’d be subbed off. but you gave her a nod, you still had some left in you. meanwhile, lia pulled caitlin away a raised eyebrow was seen.

“stop whatever this is, you’ve moved on, so why can’t i?” lia said, as she went back to her position. her eyes never left you, until you had gotten up.

the first half had came to an end, both teams had the same score, 2-2. you had entered the tunnel, swinging an arm over jessie and niamh. the locker room was silent, as emma gave her tactics, to change the game.

you lifted your jersey, seeing the bruises as you swiftly pulled the shirt down, noticing the concern from the duo. after a few harsh shoves from the australian forward, you had enough—giving her a small shove, as she got close to you.

the sound of cracking was caught your attention, you had bent down—bringing your hand to your nose, feeling the warmth fluid run down your arm. you didn’t pay attention to the whistle, or how several of your teammates moved the forward away from you.

niamh was by your side in an instant, as she knelt down, looking at your situation. she grimaced at the sight of blood, but turned to the benches signaling for the medics.

“that looks bloody.” niamh said, as you chuckled but winced at the pain. your head was raised as you looked at the big screen, the blood trailing down your arm was a terrible sight to see.

“she won’t be happy.” you groaned, as you removed your hand, the medics quickly doing their job.

“seems like they’re one player down.” jessie commented, as she saw the ref raise the red card. the arsenal bench was in shock at how their forward behavior, as emma was delighted at the advantage.

“you’ll be going off, as fran will be subbed in.” millie commented, as you gave her a nod, following the medics to the sidelines, giving a high five with your clean hand.

you took your spot on the bench, your jersey was stained with blood as you glanced at the field—the ice pack wasn’t helping at all. you watched as the ref blew the final whistle, signaling the end of the game—the chelsea bench ran to the field as you softly smiled at them.

you analyzed the arsenal team, there was tension as you raised an eyebrow. but your eyes were on a certain swiss who walked beside the english captain, clearly listening to her friend’s words.

you hummed before moving to the barriers, mapi wasn’t amused on what happened. she grabbed your chin, analyzing your nose as ingrid had to swat her hand away.

“parece que alguien estaba celoso. [it seems like someone was jealous.]” mapi said, as you hummed at her words.

“¿caitlin? no tiene derecho a estar celosa. [caitlin? she has no right to be.]” as you said, clearly not knowing the missing part. as mapi snickered at your oblivious state, resulting in a smack by ingrid to which she pouted at.

“great game, leon.“ eloise said, as you gave her a nod. you glanced at her younger sister who had a sign, she wanted your shirt. as you gave her a soft smile, before tugging your jersey off—giving it to eloise’s younger sister who gave you a small thanks.

meanwhile, in the arsenal training room—it was silent, a pin could drop and you’d be able to hear it.

“would you want to explain anything?” kim asked, clearly unamused at her teammate’s red card, the cause of hurting a player of the opposing team.

lia was seen glancing at the floor, clearly not wanting to talk about it. as caitlin just sat there, despite katie being beside her.

“then, you’ll be benched foord.” as a protest from the australian forward was heard, but a simple look from steph had silenced it.

the team dispersed, as lia grabbed her kit bag, deciding it was best to shower up at her own place. leah had followed her, connecting the dots as she bumped into her teammate’s shoulder.

“so, a chelsea player.” leah hummed, as lia chuckled.

“yeah, a chelsea player.” lia softly smiled, as leah’s eyes noticed you. you were sitting on a couch, playing with your fingers as you waited for lia.

“seems like princess charming is here.” leah nudged, as lia followed leah’s gaze to see you. her eyes analyzed you, taking note of the bandaged nose, as she chuckled catching your attention.

you stood up, walking to the pair as you greeted leah, who returned it with a small smile. you felt lia gently touch your face, as she placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“that must’ve hurt.” lia said, as you hummed.

“it did.”

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone (Steddie X You)

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

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

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

Word Count: 8284

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

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

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

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

“Does that matter?”, he snapped.

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the gangs here would disagree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…”

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

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

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

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

“Is he allergic to anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could have handled it.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

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

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

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

“I can take care of him.”

“Steve…”

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

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

“Oh you mean you?!”

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

“Brave girl with attitude. I like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Their eyes meet for a moment before Eddie finally nods. 

“You have a deal, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pfft what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Munson.”

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie follows your eyes as you glance towards Steve. 

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Did he take you in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you get hurt then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it ok to move him that much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok, best two out of three.”

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

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

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

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

Kylie giggles as she turns towards Eddie and blushes. 

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

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

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

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

“Free?”

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

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

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

“Ok. Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N!”

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

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

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

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

“Are you underfunded?”

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

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

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

“You’re a very kind woman, Y/N.”

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

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

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

“May, uh, my we come in?”

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

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

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

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

“What time was this?”

“Around 7-8pm.”

“My clinic closes at 6 so—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What aren’t you telling him?”

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

“Nothing. Stay in your lane, doctor.”

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

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

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

“Did you get in trouble?”

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

“And your bruises?”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes you think I don’t?”

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

“Our girl?”

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

“You seem nice enough to me.”

“I can be mean when I want to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know me, Eddie.”

“I know enough.” 

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

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

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

“Everything ok?”

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

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

“You know you are, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Playing with me?”

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

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

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

“I asked you something, honey.”

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

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

“Of us?”, he asks.

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to take care of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can do that, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

“Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh Stevie. She definitely enjoyed that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck… green.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie, please. Please… can I…”

“Yeah, princess. Cum on my fingers.”

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

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

“Oh, fuck me.”

“How does she feel, Harrington?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s…so BIG.”

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

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

“That’s a good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, honey.”

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

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

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

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

“Will you lay with me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if we shoot you first.”

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

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

[girlgenius1111]

i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

alexia and r post alexia's surgery :)

no warnings!

-----

If your flight from England hadn't been delayed, you wouldn't have missed it. Alexia wouldn't have had to go back for a surgery she was terrified for without you next to her. The universe didn't seem to be on either of your guys' side recently. You wouldn't have gone home for Christmas, content to stay in town with Alexia and be with her before the surgery, but she had insisted. Your girlfriend was never more stubborn when it came to your wellbeing, and she seemed to think you needed to go home for the holidays, so you did.

Alexia's mom had called when you landed, telling you that only that the surgery had gone well, and that Alexia was home resting now. So, instead of heading right to the hospital like you planned, you changed course for your girlfriend's apartment.

It was quiet when you walked in, not that you expected anything different.

"Hola, y/n," Eli said, pulling you into a hug. You were going to ask for more details about the surgery, but Eli was already heading towards the door.

"She's very grouchy, she's been asking for you. Good luck in there," she informed you, before heading out of the apartment.

If Alexia had scared her mom off, you weren't exceptionally excited to see what awaited you in the bedroom. Alexia had been in a seemingly permanent bad mood for weeks, since she'd injured her knee in the first place. It was hell for her, you knew, not being able to play, so while you weren't thrilled with her behavior, you understood it. You headed to the bedroom door, preparing yourself for Grumpy Alexia, before gently opening it and stepping in.

You found Alexia as you expected, reclined on the bed, knee propped up on a throw pillow, staring out the window. Her expression was the same as it had been for weeks; jaw tight, brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual spark. What you didn't expect, however, was for her to turn to you the minute you walked into the room, eyes immediately pooling with tears, lip jutting out slightly at the sight of you.

"Ale," you said, walking closer to the bed where she lay. You wrapped your arms around her upper body, feeling her tremble against you. She held tight, hiding her face in your shirt, and you let her. Her hair was in a bun behind her head, and you pulled the hair tie out carefully, beginning to run your fingers through the smooth blonde strands. You hadn't seen her cry in weeks; she'd been the picture of strength since her injury, not allowing anyone, even you, to see how she was really feeling about the whole thing.

The state she was in worried you. Eli had said the surgery went well, but Alexia was acting like it hadn't.

"What did the doctor say?" you asked quietly, guiding her face away from your shirt. You probably could have waited a little longer for her to calm down before asking, but you weren't sure you could handle not knowing for another minute.

"It is fine. He cleaned the area, and there is nothing wrong. I should be back in a month and a half." Alexia said, although her expression didn't really match the news- this was best case scenario.

"That's incredible," you told her, cupping her flushed cheek with your hand. She nodded, but tears still fell. "Why are you crying, love?"

"I missed you," she replied, avoiding your eyes. She was normally not that vulnerable with you, and you were beginning to think whatever the doctor had put her on was making her more emotional than usual.

"I missed you too, so much," you assure her. "This is good, Ale, you're gonna be back. Soon." She pulls back from you, wiping at her face harshly.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I was just really scared, and now I am relieved, and I am not really sure why I am crying. I just missed you." Alexia looked genuinely confused at her emotional state, and you bit back a laugh.

"That's okay, baby. But I'm here now, yeah? And everything is okay."

"Si, todo esta bien," she replies, almost as if trying to convince herself.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, ice?"

"No. Come lay with me?" She requests, reaching out to tug you closer to the bed by your shirt.

"Of course. Let me change first, I'm all airport-y." Alexia pouts slightly at that, but releases you. You love clingy Alexia; she almost never let herself be like this, only when she was sick, or hurt.

You change, heading back over to the bed, sliding in next to your girlfriend. You're extra careful, not wanting to jostle her knee at all, leaving some distance in between the two of you. Alexia bypasses that completely, shifting over until she's laying half on top of you, head turned to rest her cheek against your chest. You allow her to get comfortable on top of you before you wrap your arms around her. Her hands come to rest over yours, and she sighs contentedly.

You flick the TV on, not really caring what was on, much preferring to watch Alexia drift off. Just when you think she has, though, you hear her soft voice.

"I thought I might be done." You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Alexia was a dramatic person, clearly. No one had ever even considered the idea that she wouldn't be back, except her. Her fears were real, though, and she didn't need to hear that they were irrational.

"I knew you wouldn't be," you tell her.

"How?"

You think for a minute, deciding whether or not Alexia would make fun of you for being gushy. You were pretty sure she would, but she'd appreciate your words regardless.

"I just did. The way I know I love you, the way I know you're the person for me. You just know sometimes. I knew you'd come back, because you're strong, and you don't give up. You fight hard for the things you want. I had every confidence you'd be back on the field with me before long."

Alexia was quiet. You looked down, seeing her biting her lip, thinking hard. You move a hand to run gently over her lip, encouraging her to release it from her teeth, which she does.

"I used to have that confidence in myself. I do not think I do anymore."

You knew this. You'd watched her confidence diminish recently, in the wake of her re-injury. She was more scared than you'd ever seen her.

"I'll have it for you, until you feel it for yourself again. Deal?" Alexia smiles for the first time, looking up at you through her long lashes.

"Deal."

-----

Alexia wasn't out of commission for very long; it was a simple surgery, and she was back on her feet within the week. This had proved to be too long for her, though, because she was practically bouncing off the wall by the time she was given the all clear by the doctor.

She had big plans to cook you dinner, and take care of you for the evening. Between practices and taking care of her, you'd hardly had time to think in the past week, something she was looking to remedy. She'd been sure to thank you, for everything you'd been doing, pairing her words with sweet kisses, letting you know that she really did appreciate all that you'd done for her. It seemed obvious to you that you'd take care of her, and you didn't expect anything in return. You knew Alexia would do the same for you.

Alexia's first day really back to normal was a day you had a double practice. You were exhausted, having been kept up half the night by Alexia's restless tossing and turning, something you didn't dare bring up to her, knowing the guilt would be horrible for her. You returned home, looking forward to collapsing into the couch and not moving until bed, to something you weren't expecting.

Upon walking through the door, the smell of something burning filled your nose. You could hear Alexia cursing to herself, followed by the shattering of some glass, and then some more cursing. You flung your shows off, running into the kitchen.

"Ale?"

She was stood in the middle of the kitchen, a jar of pasta sauce broken on the ground in front of her, a decent amount of smoke coming of the stove. She looks up at you as you walk in, almost helplessly, face flushed with anger.

"Ale, baby," you coo, moving forward to her. She throws an arm out, motioning for you to stop.

"No, amor, there is glass, let me clean it up," she says, clearly upset. She moves slowly over to the paper towels, but you walk around the glass, setting a hand on her arm.

"Go sit down, Ale, I'll clean it up," you tell her, because it looked like she had been on her feet too much, if the way she was resting almost all of her weight on her good leg was any indication.

"No," she tried, but you stopped her.

"I'm not asking, Alexia, go put your knee up," you say, turning your back to her turning the stove off, and removing the smoking pan from it. You heard Alexia leave the room, slowly, and you got to work cleaning everything up. Once the glass and sauce had been taken care of, and you'd opened the windows to air out the room, you followed Alexia out to the living room, looking at your phone.

"What do you want to eat? We can order something," you suggest, thinking Alexia would prefer to not discuss the disaster than had just occurred in the kitchen. Alexia was a good cook, so something must have gone really wrong. Alexia didn't respond, though, and you looked up finally, finding her sitting on the couch, staring at her lap. Her blonde hair fell into her face, blocking you from seeing it.

"Ale?" you ask again, moving forward to take a seat next to her propped up leg. She still doesn't look up at you.

"I am so sorry," she says miserably, voice cracking, and telling you that she was crying.

"Don't worry about it, I've committed worse crimes in the kitchen," you tell her, thinking she was just embarrassed. The blonde woman shook her head though, finally looking up at you. Her lip quivered, and she looked so upset, you couldn't help but reach out and take one of her hands in yours. She flinched, and you looked down, seeing a burn on her palm.

"Shit, Alexia, hold on," you said, moving to go get a cool cloth to put on it. She grabs your shirt though, looking up at you almost pleadingly, and you sit back down. You'd never seen Alexia look at you like that before, like she couldn't bare to be away from you, even for a second.

"What's going on, my love?" you ask.

"I messed dinner up," she says shakily. That may be the understatement of the year, but it doesn't seem like she's in the mood to joke about it yet.

"It's fine, baby, we can just order something, or I'll cook," you tell her. You're still not really sure what the big deal is, and your eyes widen when she responds loudly.

"NO! No. I do not want you to cook," she says. "I wanted to cook for you."

"I appreciate that baby, but really, it's okay,"

"No, it is not okay. You've been so perfect all week, all month, and I try to do one thing for you, and I fuck it up," she sounds so upset at herself, you find yourself frowning at her tone.

"Ale, don't be ridiculous. I've barely done anything." This is definitely not true, but really, it felt like nothing. You'd go to the ends of the earth for the girl next to you, so a few extra chores, taking care of her, seemed easy.

"No, eso no es verdad," she cries, before she inexplicably dissolves into sobs.

"Alexia," you sigh, moving to sit next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"I am so much work, and I made a mess, and you had to clean it up," she rants, voice muffled from where her face is buried in your shirt.

"Stop that. You aren't a lot of work. I don't mind doing any of the things i've been doing. I'm happy to do them, because it's you. I don't care about cleaning up your mess, I only care that you heal properly," you insist." Alexia doesn't respond, only pushing her face further into your chest.

"Alexia, were you cooking dinner because you felt bad that you've needed me this past week?" you ask tentatively. You get a nod in response. Guiding out from your shirt, you hold her face in between your hands, forcing her to make eye contact with you.

"Love, you don't need to feel bad for needing my help. Ever. I love you, and I'm going to take care of you when you need me, always. You aren't a burden. You don't need to make it up to me. You just need to be you, and I'll be happy."

She looks so unsure, so not like herself. She was ordinarily the picture of intimidation, of confidence. Now, though, she looks up at you with tear filled eyes, listening to your every word like she's not sure she can trust you to tell her the truth.

"Estas segura?" she eventually asks quietly.

"I'm sure, Ale." She gives you a weak smile in response, resting her head back against your chest. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing tight until she laughs lightly against you.

"Sushi?" you ask, and Alexia nods enthusiastically. "Okay, but first, you're letting me treat that burn. How did you even do that?"

"I grabbed something from the oven without oven mitts," she mumbles, and you fight back a laugh. You aren't successful, and her head snaps up to glare at you. "I move slow since the surgery. Everything started burning, and I had no time," she rambles, and you cut her off with a long kiss to her lips.

"I'd eat whatever you burned in that pan if it meant you wouldn't feel like you need to compensate me for taking care of you." Alexia blushes. There is silence for a minute.

"You could not tell what it was?" she asks timidly.

"...Chicken?"

"Garlic and onions," she replies dejectedly.

This time you don't try to fight off your laugh, but Alexia laughs with you, and the sound of it relaxes your whole body, doing more for you than a candlelit dinner ever could.

-----

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

[vanderilnde]

Unhinged battlefield surgeon reader and the extended metaphor of surgery as the most intimate form of love (with medical inaccuracies).

ghost/reader

-

Ghost got shot and his shredded kevlar had swallowed most of the shrapnel.

Though one bullet, thankfully, ate a way through and wedged itself in his abdomen.

He’s the only member of the task force you haven’t operated on. Always a little too tactically inclined and apt for your liking. Never with any grave injuries—just a ruddy bullet graze or a broken femur—neither of which you could get your hands on. 

Surgery was the only way he would ever notice you. When Soap was in post-op, gauzed and inebriated on painkillers, Ghost reverently nodded at you in thanks. When Gaz got shot and you coordinated a walking blood bank, gingerly asking Ghost if his blood type was a match. It wasn’t, but you already knew that, because his personnel file was a parsed-over sheet branded into your brain—but he leaned down, the fleece of his balaclava grazing the husk of your ear, and asked you to repeat your question. 

“Type one SGW,” someone says. A less-experienced medic, your subordinate, his first time downrange. Ashy and blanched in the face as he straps Ghost to a stretcher. “Signs of peritonitis are present.”

You’re already wearing your gloves, splitting a hand on Ghost’s chest. His breaths are irregular and short-winded under your palm, turbulent, like a second heartbeat.

You take a moment to grasp the papery flutter of his eyelashes against his mottled skin. It’s lace-like and scythe-like, disappearing under the crude shell of his macabre mask. And upon your excited fingers catching on the hem of his balaclava, the baby-faced medic stops you with a hand bent around your wrist.

“His face,” he slips an eighteen-gauge needle into Ghost’s bulging forearm. “That's not confidential?” 

Irritation threatens to supersede your anticipation. You shrug his hand off of you, snarling, “I need to BVM him. Would you rather he die?”

The medic’s eyes widen. He sputters out apologies, mousy, and shuffles back. Busies himself with something else within the babel of organised chaos and medevac. 

The pads of your fingers idle under the lip of Ghost’s balaclava. Slowly, you peel off his mask and feel your soul get eclipsed. He steals your breath, flips your world, and drenches you in ice-cold water. He’s beautiful in a way so specifically masculine. His face striated with lesions and gossamer-like scars, one running through his mouth and hefting up his upper lip, travelling towards his cropped hairline. Disappearing into his awkward cowlick.

Ghost’s hair is trimmed to his skull. There’s slivers of skin peeking through nicks and notches as a result of shaving himself over a ceramic sink. His breath struggles past his thin lips, puckering them. His eyes oscillate under his eyelids, his crows feet leathery and creased. 

“Doctor,” another medic says, calling for your attention. “How should we proceed?”

You place an ambu bag on Ghost’s face. Your fingers on his dimpled jawbone, your other hand pumping air into his lungs. It’s electric. You’re giving him life, you’re his God, you’re swelling his lungs like a second-hand kiss too taboo to be direct. “Any exit wounds?”

Ghost gets turned onto his side and has his shirt torn through. You subsist on the heat that pools under your cheeks, sticking your thighs together. His blood congeals into the spindly hairs of his chest, thickening as it disappears below his pants. The other surgeons flit their eyes over the sinews of his back, answering, “No.” 

It shouldn’t excite you. Really, it shouldn’t. But the thought of being inside Ghost—of coalescing with him, of being closer to him than anyone ever before—it excites you. For once, you’re not invisible to Ghost. For once, he’s at your mercy. On your table and bleeding out. In need of your deft hands, in need of your attention. 

“I’m doing a laparotomy.”

“But–”

“That wasn’t a question.”

A scalpel is quickly dropped in your hand. You use it to dig a divot in Ghost’s skin, slicing a transverse incision that opens him up and spills him onto your hands. You cut through his cutis and off-white subcutis, slicing his abdomen wall, the fibrous sheet of tissue. Blood leaks out of him how rain dribbles down a window. Pearlescent and beady. 

“Gimme suction,” you mumble. “And keep it out of my way. I’m removing the bullet.” 

Off the fringes of your vision, the other surgeons exchange wary glances. Any protests they have rot on their tongue, stuck under the boot of their chief resident. A tinny, thin sound peals out in the heli, the clang of you throwing your scalpel into the kidney dish. 

Gently, as if you’re holding glass, you slip your fingers into Ghost and slowly spread him open. It’s intoxicating. As if you’re splitting a mango open with your thumbs, the blood of it sluicing down your arms. Sweet and sticky. There’s a grotesque sound emanating from it—like when boots press in on a muddy ground. Ghost is all slippery and rubbery as your fingers search for a hot, eroded bullet. 

“Any luck, Doctor?” 

Your hands catch on gilded metal. You grasp it and pull yourself out, toss it in the kidney dish. You’re handed another instrument and start slice-wise swishes, closing him up. Sewing him back together like your own doll. His chest shudders under your fingers, rattling like wind-chimes. Your sutures are deep-seated and tight, strung out, because you don’t want to stop touching him. Because if you stop, he might unfurl again. Fall all over the place. Over the floor and over your pants and you can’t have that happen—you need Ghost full, thanking you properly for your work when he wakes up. 

You’re finished, rubbing your ichor-stained gloves together. You still feel the phantom layer of your hands under Ghost’s skin.

It’s so intimate—holding him and piecing him back together. Carefully, attentively, lovingly.

[writtenapoiogy]

stretch; miguel diaz

pairing: miguel diaz x f!reader

summary: "hi how are you!!!? i’ve been thinking about this a lot, but reader being the only person to take care of miguel after his surgery / incident and it just creates so much attraction; since she’s always touching etc 😵‍💫😵‍💫 just pure smut"

word count: 1.4k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, unprotected sex, underage sex, penetrative sex, slight choking, dirty talkish, and porn with plotist again

a/n: i had a very busy weekend but i really wanted to get this out i hope everyone enjoys!!

When you found out Miguel got into a fight at school and then was in the hospital in a coma, when you were out of town, your heart shattered.

You had your mom get you a flight back to California, as soon as possible.

You didn’t know if he was gonna wake up. You don’t even know how he survived a fall like that.

It had now been about two weeks since the surgery and Miguel was still in the wheelchair. You came by every day to cheer him up. You loved putting a smile on his face.

Plus the two of you haven't really been able to be intimate. His mom and Yaya were out running some errands. You had offered to go for them but Miguel's mom insisted you stay with him while they were gone. She said she loved the way you brought a smile onto his face, especially right now.

You took your spare key out of your purse and opened the door.

“Hey, migs.” You said, walking into his room.

“Hi, baby,” he smiled up at you.

You showed up with a bag of his favorite snacks from the corner store.

You sat the bag of food down on his desk, “Okay before we get to the rewards. Ready to do some stretches?”

“I’d like to stretch something out..” he muttered under his breath, low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“What was that?” You said before placing a kiss on his lips.

“Nothin,” he mumbled against your lips, right before deepening the kiss a little. He felt his dick harden a little.

You, unreluctantly, placed your hand on the back of his neck, kissing him back before pulling away.

“C’mon,” he reached for your waist.

You backed up swiftly and smiled at him. “We’ll make out later. First, stretches.” You smiled at him.

You went out into the living room to grab a pillow off the couch. When you returned to his room you stuffed the pillows behind his back so that he was sitting up.

You lifted up his left leg and sat down in front of his right leg. You placed your right hand on his ankle, your left moved to his upper thigh, lightly moving his basketball shorts down to his upper thigh.

He inhaled a sharp breath as he felt your hand inch very close to his mid region.

“You ready?” You asked.

Miguel nodded at you with his bottom lip between his mouth. He loved and missed your touch so much. He felt himself fully harden when he glanced down and saw your hand that close to his dick. He knew that if he didn’t keep his mouth shut he might've let out a moan.

You pushed your right hand that was holding his ankle towards his lower stomach. The action made the hand that was already extremely close to his dick graze it and you inhaled lightly feeling the hardness.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Please.”

“Miguel…”

“Y/N, Please. It’s been so long. I wanna feel you around me any way I can. Please.” Miguel practically whined.

You put his leg down and crawled into his lap, placing your knees around his hips. His clothed cock rubbed against your heat as you sat down in his lap. Miguel’s hands shot up to your ass to guide your grinding when you leaned down to lay a searing hot kiss upon his lips.

Miguel moaned when you moved your lips down to his neck, “Fuck, yes.”

You started to moan into his ear as you kept grinding your hips against his. Miguel’s hands stayed on your ass helping you move your hips with his.

He wanted to come so bad and you knew he didn’t want to in his own pants. 

He wanted you. 

He needed you. 

He needed to come inside you. More than he needed air. More than he cared about being able to walk again. All that clouded his thoughts was you. And especially right now, all he could think about was feeling your hot wet heat squeezing him as he released his hot seed into your pussy. Deep inside of you.

Staying deep inside you until he was sure he was spent. He wanted you to have all of his come. Not wanting to waste a drop.

You stopped moving your hips and practically had to rip his hands off your ass. You quickly removed your pants and underwear and pushed his just below his ass. 

As much as you loved being against him. Skin to Skin. You needed him to be inside of you right that moment. And you needed to feel him come inside of you

You swiftly grabbed his cock and put it at your entrance and started to slowly sit down on him.

Miguel moaned your name when you slid just right past his head. “Mmmm, babe. It’s like you read my fucking mind.”

All you could manage to get out was a low whine, making him smirk. Since it had been so long it was feeling like the first time you two had sex. And it was almost too much for you to handle.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you were completely sitting on his cock. You felt like he was in your stomach. You placed your hand on your stomach like you had a baby in there. Miguel bit his lip then grabbed your ass even harder, eliciting a moan from you. He started to lift you up slowly, slamming you back down onto his cock. You couldn't help but let out a loud moan.

“M-Mi-Miguel, oh fuck!” You gasped. You may have been on top but he was still in control. He was making your mind go dizzy. You had to drop your hands onto his chest to bind yourself.

Miguel kept letting out groans, hearing your pussy squelch around him. He was so close to coming so fucking close. He started to bring you up and down at a faster pace. Saying a slew of curse words in Spanish.

“Y/N, I want you to come for me. Do you wanna come for me?” Miguel spoke in between his grunts. 

You tried to get out the words to respond to him but your words came out in babbles as you reached the tip of your climax you were so close and-

“Did you fucking hear me?” He growled as he took one hand from your hips and wrapped it against your neck.

You’ve never felt your climax hit you so hard and so fast. Your eyesight went spotty from how hard you shut your eyes. You love it so so sooo fucking much when he’s assertive. 

You couldn’t help yourself but moan out his name over and over again as you felt yourself get wetter as you milked his hot. Begging him to come not using so many words.

“Si, esa es mi chica.” He smiled at you and then you felt his dick twitch inside of you. He removed his hand from around your neck and put it back on your hip. Miguel quickly moved you no more than an inch up before slamming you right back down on his cock. He came while moaning. You will never get over how good it feels when he comes inside of you. Claiming you.

Miguel's climax made you come again

You clenched your pussy around him making sure you got every last drop of his seed. You bent down and gave him a slow kiss as you cut your breath.

“I love you so much handsome.”

“I love you most, mi amor.”

You lifted yourself off of him with a wince, having gotten used to him inside of you again. You went on to clean the both of you up.

You climbed back into the bed and then laid on his chest. You loved his afterglow after you two finished. You loved staring at his face and taking in every single one of his features as if you were outlining a picture of him on a piece of paper. He was so goddamn beautiful and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You didn't realize you were dozing off til you woke up about an hour later and you continued to examine his face like you had been doing before you fell asleep. You could do this for the rest of your life.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 24: COCKWARMING 𝘈𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: anon ➡ Hi, I saw your requests were open for the upcoming event, do you mind writing 24 (if it's not already taken) for Aizen and adding a bit of praise, just him being kinda soft with the reader (which can be written as gender neutral if you'd like), thanks for considering ♡  Best wishes. tw: mdni. cockwarming. praising. kinda romantic in aizen's way. wc: 990 masterlist

Trembling limbs are left after he has you in between his claws, nights like this are the ones who made it all worth it… the sex, and the aftermath as well. Those who know Aizen would probably say that Sosuke fucks you and leaves you there, with no consideration whatsoever… but, they are all wrong. Perhaps, it was just you. With you. Who knows?

Outside it’s pouring rain, those fall downpours. Your body still lays warm after he made love to you, where kisses abounded, and climaxes teemed.

Curled up in between fine silky sheets, you hear the whistling sound of his kettle coming from the kitchen. Whenever he is over, and you are all cleaned up, he always stands up to take a cup of tea. And tonight, it wasn’t the exception.

As he comes back, with steam coming from his cup reaching out his glasses, the uncovered chest and the loose grey pants present before your eyes. His skin, with a hint of caramel tint, goes very well with his cinnamon eyes. His chocolate hair, makes the perfect combination with his sweet facial traits.

“Do you want some tea, (Name)?” he asks you, brushing his hair back as he speaks. You swallow; how comes this man is as hot as the sun itself?

“No, thanks…” you mumble, yawning after. You are by far tired, exhausted. Sosuke had the fantastic idea of spending together the weekend at the mountains. The amazing cabin he chose has a huge window wall, perfect for enjoying the scenery outside, and the crackling noises of the fireplace mix with the heavy rain outside lulling you.

Aizen takes a last sip of his tea while enjoy peaks of your nude anatomy in between the covers. You lie on your side, with legs crossed as he commanded… who knows why he is so interested in you doing so…

“Hmm… Seems to me that you are sleepy” he giggles in that sexy way he only knows how to. Aizen walks towards the bed once he leaves the cup and his glasses by the table. The way his hipbones move when he does, makes you shiver, makes you squeeze your thighs even more.

You nod, shily smiling at the man in front of you and while he gets in bed you can smell the everlasting scent of his skin. A sugary perfume that’s both sweet and manly.

When he finally gets in bed, he pulls you closer to his chest. Hairless, well trained, still with a barely visible scar from a very old surgery in the middle of his chest.

“Come’ere” he murmurs, allowing you to place your head over one of his pecs. His hand, delicate but dominant, finds the perfect place to rest; the small of your back.

You get drunk of his scent, of his soul. There is something within this man that’s so strong, so attractive, that invites you to willingly submit to him, to praise him like a love and sex god.

With his free hand, that up until now he kept behind his head, he grabs yours. He plays, first tapping the tips of your nails and then down trapping your ring finger. Sosuke’s autumn eyes fix on an invisible ring, the sharp brows slightly rise, and his lips separate just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his front teeth.

“Heh…” he scoffs, licking so slowly his upper lip. What is this man thinking? Perhaps a new plan? In any case, you sigh loudly… no matter how sleepy you might be, there is always energy for arousal.

Aizen lets go of your hand and looks up to the ceiling. He smiles, pleased, and pulls you closer against him. You snake your leg around his, giving your body exactly what it needs; to be one with him.

He takes a big gasp of air through his pointy straight nose; he is tired too. Both have lost track of how many times he made love to you.

“Mhhh, I adore your skin… you are always so warm, so soft” he whispers, pressing down and sliding his hand up until your ass. Soft, almost like caresses, spanks follow.

“Sosuke…” you gasp, looking up. Your eyes run through the sharp line of his mandible, and land on the apple of his cheeks. The everlasting soft honey tint on them invite you to kiss them.

Your hand reaches for his shoulder, the protrusion of collar bone joining his scapula, feels sharp on your fingertips. You crawl up until you reach for that spot. A soft peck planted, the first of many sleepy kisses given.

His neck, a temptation you are not willing to give up even as asleep as you are. Nibbling softly on his flesh, you can’t leave marks… Sosuke Aizen is one of the most influential leaders in the world, nobody must see him with something so silly like a hickey.

“You are about to fall asleep, you are such an insatiable pretty little thing…” he mutters, kissing the crown of your head and passing his hand down your chin to lift your face up. “Look at you… look at your tired eyes, come on let’s go to sleep” he continues, helping you turn around and lay on the side.

Aizen waits for you to get comfortable and hugs you as the big spoon. You move back your ass, enough for it to perfectly align with his crotch. The more your skin can feel his body, the more you smile.

“You are still so needy, don’t you…?” he whispers in your ear, sliding his hand from your waist down your belly, to push you even closer. More and more, squeezing you very well against his growing hardness.

His naked chest receives your naked back, his chin rests on your shoulder. A sloppy kiss, with wet lips, is left in your neck.

“Mhh… yes, I want it ~” you purr, because there is something you two do whenever is sleep time…

“You wanna sleep with me inside, mh? You will allow me to feel you so warm around me?” he asks, taking his pyjama pants down until they reach for they feet and finally are completely off.

You nod, groping blindly for his hipbone to push him against you. Wet, and drippy, overly sensitive you are, and you can’t wait to feel his shaft very, so deeply inside of you.

You can feel him smirking, with his lips pressed on your nape. You can sense his hand pumping his dick against the small of your back, getting ready to slide inside you.

Sosuke lets his wet tip play with your entrance, up and down, before letting the pressure of your bodies to push his shaft into it.

You feel it stretching you and a little whimper leaves your lips. Your moan combines with his low grunt, right by your ear.

“So… tight… such a perfect creature you are” he melts pronouncing those words. “God, you are so warm and tight…” he whispers, biting the lobe of your ear. After a big sigh, in which he had to fight not to fuck you until you drop, he hugs you tightly.

Aizen remains completely still but relaxes against you. You do the same, just by only being full of him, is enough to make you feel so good and calmed. “Keep me warm, baby” he murmurs, with his eyes closed, about to fall asleep. “I will, Aizen-sama💖…” you whisper, joined in one… a single soul.

Taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

[yooniesim]

transmasc cc masterlist

hi! after getting a few asks about it, I wanted to make a quick list of cc I use for my transmasc sims. I hope it’s useful! 💜

binders

edited ea binder by @ice-creamforbreakfast

accessory binders by @ratboysims

functional binder by @pigeonhome

functional binder recolor by @maxiematch

functional binder recolor by @standardheld

binders by @schmapple

accessory binders by @valhallansim

chest binder accessory by @sparrowcc

clothing

basic tee by @pigeonhome

vintage button up by @pigeonhome

suit by @pigeonhome

jerseys by @pigeonhome

crop top by @pigeonhome

hoodie/sweater/jumper by @pigeonhome

boxers by @pigeonhome

boxers accessory by @pigeonhome

boxers accessory (strap on version) by @glammoosecc

essentials collection (2 versions) by @nucrests

scars

top surgery scars by @ratboysims

top surgery scars by @mnlvlz-sims

top surgery scars by moody bagels

male trans scars by @cloudy-simmer

top surgery scars by @nihilisims

top surgery scars part 2 by @simreaper

top surgery scars by faaeish

top surgery adornments (tattoos) by faaeish

facial & body hair

all natural body hair by me

leg hair for fem frame by @mando-cc

fem frame body hair by @afternoonzephyr

facial hair for femme frame by @deelitefulsimmer

beards as skin details by @isaax-sims

facial hair by @goopsims

upper lip hair by @marigolde

bodies & skin details

necessity skinblend by me

body mesh by dumbaby (❗nsfw❗)

body details by wildguy (enabled for men by me) (❗nsfw❗)

body mesh & gender unlock by @simdulgencemods (❗nsfw❗)

presets & sliders

flat chest presets by @saruin

androgynous presets by @saruin

the tits sliders by @ssspringroll

neck slider by @luumia

mods

lgbtqia mod by lumpinou

cas breast & pregnancy option by maars

[jasmines-library]

Tried and True

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FOUR: Prompt - Hiding an injury.

Fandom: Batfam/DC/Young Justice

Summary: During a fight with Bane you get critically injured but leave it hidden from your brothers. When they find out, it's a race against time to get you back to the safety of the manor. Warnings: Bullet wound, blood loss, near death experience, surgery, cursing. Word count: 2.8k Note: I'm super excited about this one. That's all i'm gonna say :)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Bane fired three shots down the alleyway. They ricocheted off the bricks, clattering to the ground with a metallic ping. Dick Grayson hid crouched behind the lip of a building overlooking the alleyway, his mask pulled tight over his face. He watched with cautious eyes, surveying the villain before him. You were hunched over on the opposite side of the street dual daggers pressed firmly into the palm of your clammy hands. Damian and Jason lingered nearby, Tim opted to survey with his older brother. He had his bo staff hooked under his arm, ready to draw back and swing at any second. 

“I know you’re out there little birdies.” Bane sung, drawing out his steps as he paced the length of the alley. “Why don’t you come out for a little chat?”

He fired another round of bullets, this time up into the sky. Your little brother cast a look at you from your left, you held out a warning hand.

“Nightwing?” You asked into the coms quietly, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Even though Bane was outnumbered 5-1, he was still extremely powerful and if he caught one of you off guard, you would be in some deep shit. 

“We need to wait until he gets to the end of the alley. There’s a fork. We can flank him from both sides.”

The five of you watched intently as he walked, monotonously slow. When he was a mere few steps away from the end of the alley, Nightwing gave the signal and the five of you sprang into action, disguised and protected by the thick plating of your vigilante suits each specified to fit your needs. 

Landing roughly on your feet, you jumped from the building, reading your daggers in front of you. Your brothers formed a circle besides you, trapping bane between the three exits. He grinned manically.

“Finally! I thought I was going to miss out on all the fun.” 

He hoisted his gun up onto his shoulder and eyed the five of you up. The look on his face was mad; cynical. His eyes glistened beneath his mask as they settled on Robin. He fired, releasing a fresh wave of bullets, but the youngest was small and quick enough to slip away, behind a crate. 

With his back turned, Red Robin took his chance to make a move on Bane. He swung his staff in an arc, swiping at the giant's feet in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He wobbled, but spun around and knocked him out of the way, sending him flying into a nearby pile of junk.

“Red!?” You called out through the coms.

There was static as he shuffled around, coughing slightly as he tried to recover from having the wind knocked out from him. “All good.”

You moved next, Robin at your side. Using the walls, you propelled yourself towards Bane, trying to swing your dagger and lodge it anywhere on his exposed chest, only to have to skid across the floor as he swung his arm out to hit you. Although you weren’t successful, Robin had managed to get in a well placed slice along Bane’s torso. He had been aiming for the thick tubes which pumped him full of venom, but he wasn’t so successful. 

The five of you went many rounds with Bane, swinging, slicing and dodging as you tried to get the upper hand on the giant man. Though despite being outnumbered, he had still managed to get his own in on the five vigilanties. Red Hood was suffering a twisted ankle, and Robin had a trickle of blood running down the side of his temple where Bane had managed to strike him.

“Raven!” Nightwing hollered “Flank left.”

You retreated back round the alley with your eldest brother, twisting and navigating in the dinginess to flank him from his other side. When you returned, he had Tim pinned up against a wall, gasping for air and flailing, his feet struggling to scrape against the floor. You picked up your pace, feet slapping against the concrete. You swung, leaping high into the air and bringing your daggers down in a large sweeping motion, it lodged itself in one of Bane’s tubes, staunching the flow of venom pumping into his veins. You rolled across the ground and onto your feet, skidding against the asphalt as you dodged another swing that caught Robin instead. Nightwing was suddenly flanking from Bane’s otherside, cutting off the rest of the venom’s flow. Pulling Robin to his feet, he raised his katana.

With a signal from your brother cracking out over the coms, you gripped your daggers tighter, shifting them into a more comfortable grip in front of you. The humming of Dicks escrima sticks filled the alley. There was a beat, then you all charged, using bane’s weakness to your advantage. He took a large slice across his abdomen and a shock to his body. He roared, releasing a round of bullets into the brick. Dropping like a sack of flour the five of you pressed your body to the ground, trying to dodge the lethal pieces of metal he flung your way. And that was when you felt it, a raw indescribable pain that radiated across your body above your right hip. You stifled a cry, biting your lip beneath the cover of your mask. Your breath shuddered as you rose, trying to ignore the dark red patch that bloomed across the front of your suit. You readied your daggers, trying to conceal the wound with your arm. You were hoping that the cover of the darkness would help disguise it from your brothers. 

From his place on the ground, Jason fired at bane, distracting him from Tim, who swung his bo staff again at his feet, this time bringing him to the ground. Stepping forwards,you pressed your dagger to his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the message across. He howled and grunted as Nightwing and Red Hood made quick work of securing him with rope they had stored on their suits, then delivering a quick blow to his head to render the giant unconscious. 

Nightwing took a step back and sighed, dropping his twin fighting sticks to the ground. “Is everyone ok?”

There was a chortle of agreement between the comms. You sheathed your daggers in the hosters at your hip, groaning as your fingers brushed against the pulsating wound. 

“Call B, tell him we have Bane.”

“Copy.” You said, flicking through the channels on the comms to call your father. He answered gruffly, signifying that he would be on his way on his way over as soon as he could. You heard the rumble of the batmobile in the background. 

“B’s on his way.” You told your brothers, changing the coms back. “He’ll be here soon.”

You glanced down at your stomach, still oozing blood, crossing his arms in front of you, trying to hide the growing patch and keep some pressure on it. You could feel the warm, stickiness against your skin clinging to the fabric of your suit. You couldn’t feel the exit wound, piercing the back of your flesh. Just the thought of the bullet still lodged inside of you made the pain worsen tenfold. You just had to hope that you would get back to the manor in time to stitch yourself up. 

~~~

Left, Right. Left, Right.

You had never been more glad to see the silhouette of the wayne manor, illuminated by the lights from the many windows that had been left on whilst you were out on patrol. You were trudging back slowly with your brothers after finishing up on patrol and ensuring that The Bat had bane secured and was taking him to Arkham. Your steps had grown sluggish, your vision doubled and your breaths uneven as you tried to keep up pace with your brothers, only to end up falling behind anyway. Your whole body ached, but nothing compared to the stabbing pain near your hip. You pulled your hand away from where you had been discreetly keeping pressure on it. Your head spun as you took in the sight of the blood dousing your hands. 

Left, Right…

Not much further now. You told yourself as you forced your body to keep pressing forwards. Home was so close but felt so so far away. You made your shaky legs push on, but with your hazy vision you swayed on your feet. 

Dick turned around, noticing your absence besides him. 

“Raven?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. His panicked tone alerted the rest of the boys. 

You were leaning on a nearby fence, trying to regain your composure.

“I- I’m fine. I just need-” 

Left…

Your body gave out beneath you as you tried to push yourself away from the wall, you were swallowed by a blinding pain; hot and inflamed as you collapsed in on yourself. Jason, the closest to you, rushed forwards before your body could collide with the hard asphalt. He laid you down tenderly so that your head was lying down on his lap. Dick was by your side patting down your body for the hidden injury, followed quickly by the other two.“Raven?” Damien stared at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit.” Dick cursed when his hand skimmed the tear in your suit, pulling it back with his fingers coaxed in your blood. 

You cried out in pain, eyes flying wide. 

Damien gripped your hand tightly, wincing at your pained expression when Jason hastily tore your mask away. He wiped away the tears which stained your cheeks. 

“AH!” Your face twisted when Dick ripped apart the fabric of your suit to get a better look at the wound; circular and ugly, only around the size of a penny, but it was already an angry shade of scarlet and was leaking more blood than you though you had in your body. The fabric which had matted with your blood tugged at your skin. You squeezed Damian’s hand tightly.

“R, what happened?” 

“...Shot.” You forced out. 

Jason reached around the back of your suit searching for an exit wound then cursing loudly when he failed to find one. “It’s still in there.”

Dick cursed. “Okay. Tim?”

The boy looked up meekly. 

“Grab the emergency pack, we’ll need tweezers, bandages. Something for the pain.”

“On it.”

“Damien? Call Alfred, tell him we need help, stat.”

Hesitantly, the Wayne let go of your hands and scrambled to get his phone. Tim was rushing back over with the supplies. 

“Y/N? This is going to hurt okay?”

You nodded feebly, head lolling around in Jason’s lap. 

“Hood, keep her awake.”

Jason took your head in his hands and angled it up to face him. Your eyes were fluttering closed.

“Hey, look at me, keep ‘em open kid.”

Your eyes opened in fraction as you listened to your older brother's words, though you were in a pained daze, only registering the pain in your side.

They would never forget the inhuman scream that pushed its way past your lips as Dick dig the tweezers into the wound. The pain was indescribable as your fingers clawed against the ground. You writhed in Jason’s hold, squirming away from the onslaught of pain. Dick cringed. 

“Tim, keep her still.”

His hands were like cold vices on your arms as he pinned you down, trying to keep you still as his older brother rummaged through your body. Your screams had morphed into horse shouts by the time he finally got the bullet out. But then came the burst of agony as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could on your wound. You whimpered.

“I know. I know Y/N I’m sorry.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you began to lose a grip on consciousness. Black dots danced in your vision.

“Hey. Stay with us!” Tim patted your face. “We need to move fast.

Jason leaned you up against his chest so his brothers could wrap the bandages tightly around your stomach. Damien had returned, informing them that Alfred was on his way. Once the bandages were secured, you were laid back down in Jason's chest, eyes fluttering. Damien returned to holding your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the flat of your hand. 

“Stay awake, Raven. Talk to us.” Tim prompted.

You were silent for a horrifying moment, before muttering out a few words. “...I’m sorry.”

“No. None of that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you all.”

Your breaths were becoming shallower and you struggled to get the air you needed into your lungs. The black spots began to take over your vision. 

“We love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

You hummed contently. Your body had begun to go numb. 

A dear ran down Damien’s cheek. You reached up to wipe it away as your older brother had done to you mere minutes ago.

“It’s okay.” You hushed. “It doesn’t hurt bad anymore.”

The two eldest vigilantes swallowed thickly, sharing a wide eyed glance between each other. That was when Alfred turned up, and the next minutes went by in a blur. The boys could do nothing more than watch as they whisked you away into surgery, praying that you would pull through. 

~~~

Dick watched as you began to stir. Your face twitched and you shifted uncomfortably. He had his much larger hand wrapped around yours, and had done for a few hours, insisting that he stay with you. You were his baby sister after all. Bruce had tried to send the other to bed, but like Dick, Jason had insisted that he should be allowed to watch over you too. Bruce was about to protest, but he couldn’t dismiss the distraught look plastered on Jason’s face. He had no doubt that the youngest two were lingering around somewhere, minds too full of opposing thoughts to let them succumb to the sleep that their bodies begged them for. Damian had kept trying to sneak in before being dragged away by Bruce. 

The room had been silent for a few hours as they watched your chest rise and fall. The surgery had been hard on your body, and for a while no one was sure that you were going to pull through. Albeit there you were lying pale but showing signs of waking up, on your bed.

  Alfred and Bruce were frequently in and out of your room where you lay hooked up to all sorts of machines that made Jason cringe. His head was resting on the side of your bed by the hand that Dick wasn’t nursing. His eyes had begun to droop shut as the early hours of the day crept around, when you shifted the let out a pained whimper. When he turned his head, he was greeted by your striking eyes. 

He scrambled off of the floor and into the chair that had been pulled up by your bed. “Y/N? Hey.”

“Boys?” You blinked, your head still groggy from the anaesthesia.

The eldest boy gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah kiddo. We’re here.”

Trying to sit up, the tug on your stitches elicited another cry of pain. Instinctively, both boys helped you sit up. 

“Take it easy, little bat.” Dick told you as you gingerly pushed back the sheets. Your hip was bound tightly in a white bandage. “He got you good.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jay pressed. “You could have…”

“I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door shuddering open and a pair of your ‘not so little anymore’ brothers' heads peeking around it. They were hesitant, glancing around the room until you gave them a gentle smile.

“Y/N,” Damian rushed into the room, wrapping you tightly into a hug. 

“Hey Dami.” You murmured into his ear. 

He was suddenly ripped away from you by a grinning Tim who chided “Hey, be careful with her, you demon spawn. It’s my turn.”

You chuckled as he pulled you desperately into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N/N. I was so scared.”

You frowned, hoarse voice breaking as you spoke. “I’m sorry-”

“Damian.” A haggard voice sounded from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by a pair of heavy set shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to get back in bed-”

Bruce stopped abruptly at the sight of his children crowded before him. His eyes were clad with dark bags and his hair was unkempt on his head. 

“Hi Dad.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. Pushing past his sons, he was at your side in less than a second. 

And that was when the reality of the whole situation hit you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shh.” He hushed. “This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but Bane’s.”

“But-”

“Listen to the old man for once little bat. All that matters is that everyone is still together.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THREE ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

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