#and make the hell called med school even just a bit more comfortable

[ley-med]

When I volunteered to teach med students who have a rotation in our hospital, I was really scared I wouldn't be able to talk consequently for 1,5 hours, and I would be left there with the students in an uncomfortable hour of silence before I could let them go home... Now that I had my first practical, I can safely say my worries in this regard were unwarranted.

Apparently, it's really, really hard to speak only for 1,5 hours about a topic I'm really passionate about

[jaybirbie]

" Code 4, ETA 4 mins. Baby Bat got dosed with something, make sure Mama-Wings on stand by". Hoods voice came through the coms steady, but Tim could hear the slight shake to his words.

"Understood."

Before he could even notify him, Tim could hear Dick bounding down the stairs to the cave. It had been his night off, but he had apparently been listening in on the comms anyway instead of sleeping, the hypocrite.

Tim started preping the med bay, a familiar routine he hardly had to think to do.

He'd do what he can and stay out of the way. Damian didn't like being surrounded while injured or incapacitated.

Over the last 4 years, he and the brat had come to a relatively civil relationship. No more serious murder attempts, and they begrudgingly called each other family.

But the little Demon still avoided him. Tim thought after Damian had chilled out a bit that they could...bond a little more. Tim was excited to have a little brother.

He told no one, but every year when he was younger, he wished for a baby brother and sure Damian was not what he had pictured, but he was his little brother and Tim cared for him.

Which was why it hurt so much that Damian didn't care for him.

Tim didn't know what he did wrong, Damian had bonded with Dick, Cass, and Steph. Hell, even Jason!

He had tried. Patrolling together, he made up excuses to pick Damian up from school. Nothing worked.

He thought he'd gotten close once. To breaking through the brats walls. They'd gone to the museum for an Art exhibition. It'd been a fun night until they branched out to look at the other exhibits. Halfway into the Space exhibition, Damian had disappeared.

The next morning, it was like they were back to square one.

Tim was ripped from his spiraling thoughts by the screech of tires as Hood breaked hard on his bike. He didn't even park it. Just let it fall to the floor.

The way Robin lay limp in his arms made Tim's breath catch.

His mask was off, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks and eyes unfocused. Then he started swinging.

"Fuck-" Damians boot got Jason firmly in the jaw as he threw himself from Hoods arms and fell to the floor.

When Dick tried approaching him, he crawled backward. Putting himself only a few feet from where Tim still stood shocked.

It was rare to see Damian not put together.

As the brat looked around unfocused, he caught Tim's gaze. He watched as Damians eyes filled with tears, and he was too distracted to do anything when his little brother launched himself toward him.

Expecting a knife or maybe a few hits, Tim, as well as everyone around, were stunned as Damian gripped him around the waist and started to sob.

He was apologizing between sobbing wet breaths as Tim gently lowered both of them to the ground, his arms coming up to embrace his little brother.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, Ahki. I didn't want to. It should have been me. It should have been me. D-Danyal please."

He continued to sob, griping Tim so tight he'd surely have brusies.

Tim didn't know how long he sat there, legs long gone numb as Damian cried himself into exhaustion in his arms. Muttering out apologies and the name Danyal.

And when they tried to move him to the bed, he gripped Tim's shirt like it was a lifeline and begged him to stay.

Of course, Tim stayed.

Tim had answers to find and a little brother to comfort.

As he watched Damian drift of to sleep having finally cried himself out. He brushed the hair from his forehead.

Comfort his little brother first.

He'd find his answers later.

Demon Twins Au prompt

What if the real reason Damian hated Tim when he arrived at the Manor was because Tim reminded him of his recently(like less than 24 hours before he's left with Bruce), deceased twin.

After a while, Damian grows comfortable with the family, but he still kinda avoids Tim. Tim's attempts to be brotherly seem to make it even worse.

Until one day, Damian gets drugged and mistakes Tim for Danyal.

[hpdfag]

IM SO GLAD YOURE GOING TO SEE MITSKI??? I’ve always wanted to see her, but she usually doesn’t come to Italy…she did come but I was seeing SKZ that day </3 I love concerts so much! Big concerts can seem scary, but if you’re seated down they’re pretty calm…if you’re standing though, it can be overwhelming at times! But to me all of that adds up to the experience. As someone who’s super autistic, they don’t feel as overwhelming as they probably should, but more…soothing. Make sure to arrive early! Even if you don’t get front row spots, it’s still an amazing experience :} I saw a lot of vids from her tour and she’s really an amazing performer, so you’ll have a great time…also, make sure to bring a lot of water!!

I understand school is so stressful and all… WhatI do when school starts, since I myself hate school and all about it, is trying to romanticise it! I try to get into these wonyougism and study stuff and feeling like an academic weapon…wether I’m failing or not! I just start to feel organized and proud of myself, but of course, that’s hard. So good luck with school!!! You’ll do well, I’m sure…

About the dysphoria thing…I really get it. Sometimes I do cave in and try to change my bodily appearance to resemble my IRL sources! Not sure how to call it. But yes, it’s really painful…I’ve started to view my human body as an “avatar” for my real self, which isn’t super satisfactory of course, but it makes me feel a bit less dysphoric. Of course, I’d love for it to be just like how I remember my soul, but for now let’s…just customise it in a fun way, like a character of some way. This might be more understood if you’re a system, which well you are…I hope I could help a bit with these words, I’m sure you need someone to hear you sometimes :} I hope you’re having a good day!!

- 🧶

YESYESYES IM SUPER EXCITED !!! we got the tickets at the end of last year so ive been waiting for this for so long .... it should be seated as well which is good!! ive only ever been to concerts where im able to sit its like. a requirement almost. i dont have anywhere near the stamina required to stay standing for hours on end ... and we certainly will be arriving early! portland gets crowded as HELL when there's big events, so we'll probably be taking the train in about an hour before the concert starts. and i'll for sure make sure to bring lots of water, and take my meds before leaving as well. it would suck to end up super thirsty at such a cool event !! v_v

and yeayea i get that, i wish smthn like that cld work for me </3 im just pushing through as best as i can! it's not gonna be perfect and aesthetic but i think thatll be alright. the only course im worried about really is credit recovery for math, since i really need to do well with it or ill get kicked out of online school for real which is. very scary!! i feel the best mentally when im able to do my work at my own pace at home, so i'd hate to have to go back to in person school for the last semester of my high school life ...

and that makes sense, yeah! i typically see this body as just an avatar anyways, considering i see this reality as another iteration of the neo world program. its really comforting and can help me with some of the worst of it, but even still, it feels like playing a character very unlike yourself in a video game if that makes sense? there's a dissociation inherent to it. even though this is my avatar that i can customize however i want, the sliders aren't perfect, and the only options, while cool, are more aesthetically pleasing than affirming.

[marshmallowloves]

DAY 3 (ROMANTIC F/Os) - Cortex

💜 Synes has always been fascinated with surgery and seeing the inner workings of living things, so much so that she practices her own surgical procedures on fruits, plushies, other inanimate objects… and despite wanting to someday do that to actual living beings, she never wanted to go through the hassle of going to med school, nor did she think she’d ever be able to get away with murder or malpractice…

💜 …until one day through the power of unexplained bullshit she’s presented with an opportunity to shoot her shot at Cortex Castle (or wherever Cortex is currently doing his thing). It just so happens that the mad doctor himself is looking for someone who can more closely physically analyze his mutant subjects in order to fix any imperfections - cause to be honest, he can’t be bothered to spend all that time doing that himself.

💜 Synes tells him that she has plenty of knowledge and enthusiasm for this kind of thing…just no experience or license. Cortex does not care. She can learn on the job if she has to, he just needs someone to rip these mutants open and figure out why they couldn’t kill the bandicoot, and it looks like Synes is perfectly eager and willing to do that. She’s hired 👍

💜 From that point forward, any subject that fails to defeat Crash comes to her O.R. so she can pinpoint their weaknesses. In addition to analyzing what’s already in their body, she sometimes does her own experimentation and puts things in there herself - chemicals, serums, implants of all kinds - in an attempt to grant them resistances to various things or otherwise fortify their bodies, with plenty of successes along the way. Many failures too, but Cortex (the bastard) insists that he has tons of disposable creatures at the ready - what’s a few losses under the knife?

💜 After a while of working, she turns out to not only be crazy skilled at these operations, but also in treating injuries her subjects have sustained before even making it to her room. So she’s double-hired by Cortex as a nurse in the event that he or any of his best minions are injured - though that doesn’t necessarily mean the pay is any better.

💜 Many of her operations are overseen by Dr. Cortex himself - and it’s mainly through these interactions that they become closer…in the loosest sense of the word. Cortex is pretty pleased with the work that she does for him, and he does so enjoy watching her squirm whenever he’s a bit too close for comfort, but it’s still typical Cortex - he doesn’t have time for trivial things like human connection…although it is a bit strange how often he finds himself dropping by her office or scribbling words of praise on her reports. He’s clearly being possessed by some kind of emotion-having hellspawn and maybe he’ll ask Synes for a cure as soon as he stops thinking about how good she looked with her elbow-long gloves slicked in the viscera of her latest patient yeah good lord he needs help

💜 Likewise, Synes is having a terrible time coming to terms with the fact that she’s a sucker for Cortex’s approval. How could she not read into the way he treats everyone else as an afterthought but then sings her praises for a procedure gone right? Not to mention his bouts of theatrics, stupidly smug sense of superiority and absolutely puzzling charisma–wait, charisma? That can’t be right, what the hell kind of charisma could a textbook sociopath like Dr. Neo Periwinkle Cortex possibly have? Maybe she’ll figure it out after she recovers from the time he called her “good girl” for her compliance to an order from two days ago

[fandomchokehold]

👁️👁️

Soooo this is Samson 👉👈

Half Sun Elf

35 years old

He/him

Lawful/Neutral Good

Grew up in a small village called Elmwood which I’m headcanoning as fantasy Ireland so I’m justified in giving Sam and his dad Irish accents lmao

He’s a doctor (or at least wants to be but too poor for med school), learned everything he knows about practical medicine from his mom (sun elf) and learned how to care for patients by taking care of his chronically ill dad (human)

His dad died when he was 7 and his mom took her own life when he was 11, he was supposed to go live with his aunt and uncle in Calimport but they sucked so he stowed away on a ship when he was 12, became a part of the crew, and then left when he was 15 and they docked in Waterdeep

He was homeless in Waterdeep for a while until my other tav Odette (duergar monk she/her) took him in and basically adopted him as her little brother. Years later when Sam is 30 he finds Wren (my human sorcerer tav they/them) beat up in an alley and takes them to the flat for treatment. They also have no place to call their own so, with a lot of pleading and puppy eyes from Sam, Odette agrees to let them stay

5 years later they all get snatched up by the Nautiloid

Here’s just a bit better description of his appearance since character creator only does so much

He’s a 6’4” beanpole, tall and lanky as hell

He has decent upper body strength from working on a ship and in a bakery most of his life but a pretty slim lower body

Absolutely covered in freckles

Has curly hair that he likes keeping trimmed short in the back cuz of hair on neck sensory issues

His right eye (your left) is a rich brown color while the left eye (your right) is a gold hazel color (you can kinda see if you zoom in on some of the pics)

He always wears glasses my guys blind as a bat

He has a scar on the lower left side of his abdomen and back from where he got ran through with a rapier in a pirate attack while he was sailing

And here’s just some more fun facts

He canonically romances Gale and is monogamous but I’m planning to make OOC stuff of him myself so go crazy go stupid aaahhh

The only thing I won’t do OOC for him is hetero stuff cuz if I had to label his sexuality it would be demisexual homoromantic and I’d feel weird having him be with someone who isn’t a man or masculine nonbinary

He’s a Verse / Switch but usually prefers topping

He’s circumcised (I made his parents both retired clerics just to justify it lmao)

Will enthusiastically demonstrate all the knots and rigging skills he acquired from his sailing days if his partner is up for it *wink wink*

Gives the best aftercare (he is a doctor after all)

He cares a lot about others, usually more than himself, which makes it hard for him to see when he’s being taken advantage of

Can be very perceptive in other situations though (knew Nettie was up to something when she grabbed a plant he recognized as dangerous, didn’t drink Jaheira’s drink cuz he could smell the herbs)

He’s ambidextrous and can sometimes lock in on a task and be found illustrating a surgical exposure with one hand while writing a description with the other

He doesn’t drink alcohol (doesn’t like the taste or how it makes him feel plus has bad memories associated with it) but he does smoke a tobacco pipe when he’s stressed

Apologies if this got long I’ve been obsessed with this OC of mine since before I even got the game lol he means so much to me ❤️

I am planning on writing a Gale x Rolan x Samson fic soon that’s gonna be post Lorroakan defeat and include some hurt/comfort, sappy confessions, and then Rolan getting sandwiched between Gale and Samson as he receives the most tender love and care that probably makes him cry… if you’d be interested in reading something like that I can tag you when it’s done 👀

It might take a little why for me to get around to it cuz my chronic illness is still acting up and I’m still recovering from being in the hospital and having to go back to work so apologies on that 🫶

Also love Rackal what a beefcake

I wanna draw some spice because I got a good long weekend ahead and need some silly things to draw between bigger projects. I also really wanna practice more spicy stuffs.

Some quick facts about my Tav for your consideration:

Rackal Orro:

-52 years old

- Captured on the Nautiloid alongside his twin sister.

-Half Drow (human mom, drow father. Mom was a Barbarian, dad a former cleric turned simple shopkeep. All the height/muscle comes from Mom.)

- former fighter turned paladin (Oath of Devotion). Smashes his Oath while saving the tieflings, specifically one grumpy one in particular (honestly, good riddance; it was getting in the way of getting shit done)

- Former Flaming Fist turned mercenary/adventurer prior to events of BG3; been out of the Fists for 5 years

- Burn scars from failed Fist mission 10 years ago, wherein he lost his longterm lover

- Romantic life has been meh since; a couple of relationships, none lasting more than a couple months. Ends up in slow burn with Rolan and falls HARD.

- Chaotic Good

- Service Dom/Top

Persona: Comes off a bit stoic/too serious at the start of the adventure/until the Grove party (though, to be fair, he’s just trying to keep his sister alive and is constantly assessing an increasingly disastrous situation, realizing fairly quickly that there is more going on than the tadpoles. Also, it doesn’t help that his dead lover is haunting his dreams telling him to eat even more tadpoles.). After a breakdown, mellows out, but still maintains a pretty serious attitude. Rather impulsive, especially in situations he perceives as a threat. Loyal, wary, does not forgive easily. Scratch is one of the few things keeping him sane.

- Volo Lobotomy Status: signed right the fuck up after downing a quarter bottle of whiskey. It was perfect timing; the moment Volo suggested it, Rackal had experienced:

Surprise vampire in camp; now his sister is a bloodbag.

Lae’zel trying to kill him.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel trying to kill each other.

Lae’zel fucking his sister, which he could’ve ignored if it DIDN’T WAKE UP THE CAMP

Dead lover jumpscare

All within 48 hours.

He was genuinely thinking “ FUCK IT TAKE ME OUT.”

Ref pics:

[frenchfrywrites]

SLAY! Vil is sickening!

MINORS DNI

warnings: top softish dom amab gn reader, sub bottom sick! Vil Schoenheit, snz, emeto, piss, little degradation, shower sex

Vil has been sniffling all week. Rook noticed it first (of course he did), and brought it to your attention. Neither of you have actually broached the topic with the man himself yet, for you're sure he's already very aware. 

By the end of today his nose is a rosy red and his cheeks look flushed- more so than his blush would account for. You follow Vil back to Pomefiore and into his room, your brow furrowing when the Housewarden drops his bag abruptly and flops onto the bed.

"I think you're getting sick" "I think I'm getting sick," you both say at the same time. Vil lets out an exhausted laugh as you meet him at his bed. 

"Let me feel your forehead," you bring the back of your hand to his forehead and he's definitely warm. You relay this information to Vil and he sighs, sniffles, then groans. 

"Ugh," he huffs under his breath, “I guess I’m lucky it’s Friday.” You give him a pitied look 

"How about you switch into some comfy clothes and I'll take care of you," you suggest. Vil must be too tired to argue because he does just that. He's still trying to be as poised as usual but you can see his exhaustion show through by how he clumsily dresses. 

After he carefully sets his uniform in his laundry basket you help Vil get tucked into bed, under a mass of blankets. 

"Have you removed your makeup?" You ask, reaching for some makeup wipes on his vanity.

Vil sits up suddenly,

"Oh God my routine," he sounds nearly panicked. You gently push him back down, shushing him,

"It's okay Vil, let's just get this makeup off for now and we can do your routine later, okay?" There's no way he's going to be well enough to get up and do his evening facial routine, but you give him hope so he stays in bed. 

Ever so gently you wipe down his sweaty face, removing his makeup carefully. Vil lets out appreciative noises at the feeling of the cool wipes on his quickly heating face. You watch as he sinks into the bed beneath him, and as you kiss his now clean forehead his eyes flutter shut. 

"Take a nap baby, I'm going to get you some meds. Do you want anything? Are you hungry?" He grimaces,

"No, not hungry. Maybe something to drink, please?" You brush stray hairs away from his beautiful face. 

"Of course lovely," you promise, getting up to shut off the lights as you leave.

From there you rush around campus: informing Rook that Vil is definitely very sick- you reassure that you'll be attentive and thorough with your care, narrowly avoiding a melodramatic rant about Vil's health- retrieving meds from the school store, running to your dorm room to grab a night bag for yourself (there's no way in hell that you're leaving your sick boyfriend alone for the night), then to the Pomefiore kitchen to get something for him to drink, you quickly grab some crackers in case he's hungry when you get back.

Vil is deep asleep when you return. You set some things down, rummage around for a bit, then make yourself comfortable on the loveseat at the end of his bed. 

He wakes up an hour or so later, disoriented and confused. 

"Hey,” you call quietly, making your presence known, “feel any better?" you ask, coming to his side. Vil squints at you, looks around the room, then looks back to you,

"What?" He sounds utterly perplexed.

"I asked if you felt any better," you repeat. Vil shakes his head, sniffles, then sneezes. It's loud, takes you by surprise, as you'd thought maybe he'd be one to let out quiet, squeaky, small sneezes. 

You hand him some tissues. 

"Thank you," he whimpers, blowing daintily (or as best as one can) into the tissue. 

“Are you hungry?” you check, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. Vil shakes his head then leans into your touch. He sneezes again, then wipes his nose.

"I am really thirsty," he informs you, sounding nasally. You get him the juice and medicine, presenting them to him. Vil takes it, grumbling a bit, then downs the glass.

“What’s that?” he points to your overnight bag, slowly lowering himself so he can lay back down. You sit next to him on the bed,

“My overnight bag,” 

“No,” Vil groans, “I don’t want to get you sick,” he frowns. 

“Well, I don’t want you to not take care of yourself,” Vil huffs, “I’m going to stay here, and if I get sick I get sick.” He gives up the battle, closing his eyes and pulling his covers up. 

“Okay fine,” he pauses and then after a moment he quietly asks, “can you get me more juice? Please?”

The rest of the night you tend to his needs. He (begrudgingly) eats some soup, downs more juice than you would believe, watches a movie, goes through an entire box of tissues, and forces you to help him through his skin care routine as best as you can without getting out of bed. You manage to pull a few giggles from Vil as you fumble through his extensive routine.

He falls asleep early, and you tidy up the room so when he wakes he isn’t furious. You do a bit of homework, eat some dinner, then change into your pajamas, and do your nightly routine. 

After that you slip into bed next to your beautiful boyfriend, pull him close to you and drift off to sleep.

You awake to a wetness on your legs. When you look over, Vil is still fast asleep. As you become more conscious you put two and two together and figure he wet the bed. You curse yourself for not making him use the bathroom before he fell asleep. Ever so gently, you nudge him until- with a loud sniffle- he flutters his pretty lashes at you and opens his purple eyes.

He looks completely dazed.

"Whu-" he cuts himself off with a sniffle. "Why am I wet?" He rasps, looking down between the two of you. 

"I think you wet the bed," you answer timidly. Vil shoots his gaze back up to look at you, his eyes wide. 

"No," he hisses, and scampers out of the bed like it's on fire.

"Vil," you try calling out to him, but he's quickly making his way to the bathroom attached to his dorm. He slams the door behind him as you get out of the bed. By the time you reach the door you hear him retching. 

With renewed fervor you open the door to find Vil over the toilet, emptying his stomach. Cooing and shushing, you make yourself comfortable next to him, gathering his hair up into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, while the other rubs his back lovingly. 

Luckily he only pukes once, but he stays there for a bit, sniffling and dry heaving over the bowl. 

Carefully he moves his head away when he's done, then wipes his face with his hand. He looks defeated. You flush the toilet and pull him into your arms, still cooing softly. Vil clings to you loosely- he used a lot of energy in the last few moments. 

"I'm so sorry," he whimpers into your chest. You kiss the top of his head, 

"It's okay Vil, you're okay," you reassure. Truthfully none of this has bothered you. In fact, it's almost nice to be able to take care of your lover without him needing to have control over one thing or another. You'd never say that out loud though.

"To see me like this must be," he sniffles, "upsetting to say the least." You hum, 

"It's not. I mean, I don’t like that you’re not feeling well, but I still think you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on," Vil pulls away, shock evident on his face.

"Seriously?" You smile lovingly. 

"Of course. You may not feel your best, but nothing about you has changed in my eyes," he bites his lip at your words, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Don't," he sniffles, takes a big breath and collects himself, "do not make me cry right now with how sweet you're being," he pouts. You laugh softly,

"Okay, alright, I'm sorry," you kiss his flushed cheek. "How about you brush your teeth while I get a shower started for us. That sound good?" Vil nods. You rise to your feet first, reaching out and helping him next. 

He does as he's told while you turn on the lights and start a warm shower. You step in before Vil does and you can hear him rustling around before he steps in with you. 

It's then that you notice he's hard. "When did this happen?" You ask carefully, feeling him up a bit. Vil moans, resting his head on your shoulder. 

"Not sure," you can tell that’s a lie from a mile away. For such a talented actor he can never seem to hide anything from you. You squeeze him tighter in your hold, "ah, it's been like that since I woke up," he confesses easily.

You stroke him slowly, "wow," you murmur, a tad impressed with how he's managed to stay erect. "Even when you were puking?" Vil doesn't react for a minute then he nods, making you let out a pleased hum. "Disgusting," you comment lightheartedly and he keens at that, his hips stuttering into your grasp.  

His reactions get to you, making blood rush to your dick. 

"I think I should clean up my nasty boy huh?" Vil nods and sniffles in response.

Never before would you have entertained the idea of washing someone as foreplay, but Vil has certainly expanded your horizons. 

You coat your hands in a body wash that smells divine, and begin to run your hands along Vil's soft body. You start at his shoulders, rubbing your soapy hands over his tense muscles. Slowly, your hands make their way to his chest, and Vil’s eyes- which had closed as you worked out a knot on his shoulder- flutter open when your fingers brush over his nipple. 

“Oh,” he sighs softly, then sniffles. You roll his nipples between your fingers, feeling them harden under your touch.

"Filthy," you mumble under your breath. Vil begins to moan what sounds like your name, then pauses to inhale sharply. He does it again, then sneezes onto your chest. It shouldn’t excite you as much as it does.

Vil’s hands fly up to his face, to wipe away the snot there. He cleans his hands off in the shower spray and turns to you, “sorry,” he sounds so congested as he looks away bashfully. You pull him into a kiss,

“Don’t be,” you murmur against his lips, and trail your hands lower. Vil lets out heavy breaths, interrupted infrequently by sniffles.

Teasingly you run your soapy hands past his dick, rubbing his soft thighs, then moving around back to touch his ass. Vil rests his head on your shoulder, his hands finding your hard cock. He strokes you slowly, maybe because of fatigue or maybe because he’s teasing you as much as you’re teasing him.

“I’d love to feel you inside me,” he confesses nasally, then lets out another sneeze. You feel your dick twitch and then cringe, because you know he felt that. Vil moves to look you in the eye, “Was that because you want to be inside me or because of…” he trails off. 

You run your finger over his hole to carefully avoid answering the question. 

Vil, predictably, doesn’t let it go. “Hey- ah,” he grinds himself against your finger, “answer me,” he gives you his best pout, “please?”

“Probably a bit of both,” you admit, pressing your finger slowly inside. Vil sniffles, and strokes you faster. He returns his head to your shoulder, still lazily grinding himself against your finger. 

“I do really want you inside of me,” he muses wantonly. 

“Think you can handle that?” you ask, concerned about how much stamina he has while sick. Before being able to answer, Vil gets cut off by a sneeze attack. You can feel him tense and shudder around your finger with each one. Desperately you want to feel what it’d be like if Vil had a sneeze attack while seated on your cock. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he whines once he catches his breath. Later you’ll probably curse yourself for caving so quickly, but you can’t possibly deny him when he sounds so helpless.

“Okay,” you give in, kissing him and adding another finger. You’re lucky your fingers are slicked up with soap. Vil is- like always- so deliciously tight. What takes you by surprise is how hot his hole is. Imagining him engulfing you is enough to thin your patience significantly. 

Hastily you scissor and stretch him open for you. Vil has taken to resting most of his weight on you, stroking your dick clumsily while letting out heavy breaths and sniffles. 

“Please,” he whines, fluttering around your fingers, “fuck me.”

With a groan you remove your fingers, causing Vil to whine and rut himself against you impatiently. You remove Vil’s fondling hands from your dick, and take a second to lube up your shaft with the body wash. With minimal effort you grab Vil’s ass then hoist him up- he squeaks cutely, and clings to you. You then stabilize him by pressing him against the shower wall. 

As you line yourself up with his hole you kiss him, then slowly press into him. Vil tightens his legs around you, quickly bringing you in deeper; his nails are digging into your back by the time you bottom out. 

To let him adjust, you keep your hips static. Vil pulls away from your lips with a sharp inhale. You, sensing where this will lead, eagerly watch him with bated breath. Vil inhales again, then looks away to sneeze. He has a small attack, but with each one you can feel him clench and tense around you.

With a groan you bury your head into his chest, and slowly grind into him. Once his sneezing is done Vil moans your name like a plea,

“Faster,” he whines. With his permission you begin to snap your hips, creating a steady and quick pace. 

Vil slumps against you, and while he has his arms and legs wrapped around you, he’s all dead weight right now. You’re glad you’re already in the shower, because the sweat beading down your skin from the process of holding him up and fucking him good would be uncomfortable otherwise. 

“God, hah, you’re so hot,” you mumble into his chest. Vil moans, fluttering around you.

“Please,” he sniffles, “touch me, ah, please,” you groan shaking your head, 

“I can’t, fuck, baby I hav’ta hold you up,” you explain breathlessly. Vil whines, bringing an arm from around your neck to jerk himself off. As soon as he touches himself he lets out a sneeze, again tensing around you, clenching you in a way that has you leaking pre. 

"I'm-" he sniffles and for a second you think he'll sneeze again, "I'm going t'cum, ah-" and then he does sneeze again. The way he clenches so tightly around you pulls you over. You snap your hips into him as you pump him full of your cum. Vil keens, stroking himself a few more times before cumming as well. 

You fuck him through his orgasm, whispering praises as soon as he comes down from his high and his breathing slows. 

"There we go," you coo, watching as he closes his eyes. He's never been this tired out afterwards, but then again you've never fucked him while he was sick before either. 

You pull out and set him gently down on the shower floor. Luckily the water is still hot, so clean up is quick and mostly enjoyable. 

Once you're both clean, you wrap him in his unbelievably soft, fluffy towels and have him sit on the toilet. Vil has been letting you manhandle him around, completely void of any and all energy due to his condition.

"Stay here for a second, I'm going to change your sheets," you pull some of his damp hair away from his beautiful face and Vil makes a sound of acknowledgement.

Swiftly you change the sheets, and switch into some pj's, then retrieve Vil from his bathroom and dress him. 

He's nearly asleep by the time you tuck him into bed, but he's awake enough to kiss you back before you quickly fall asleep alongside him. 

Hopefully when you awake Vil is feeling better, and you're somehow still fine.

Though you sincerely doubt it, considering the way your nose has started to run.

[poemsforparker]

Stitches n' Patches - Part III | tasm!Peter Parker × fem!Reader

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence.

(not my gif)

What the hell have I gotten myself into? You think when you hear the loud sound of your door being broken. On your couch was his mask you sewed earlier. Peter twirls in the air from where he was to reach up to it and puts it on seconds before two guys walk in. One of them you recognise as the fake officer from earlier and the other is much taller and scarier.

“Two against one? That's not fair!”. Was Peter making jokes at a moment like this? You were freaking out, still at the kitchen and out of their sight. Peter signed for you to hide under your balcony. You didn't think twice. Not even if you tried you think you could be of any help, so you do as he says.

After hearing fight sounds for several minutes, you calm yourself down when you hear Peter’s voice speak as he took his mask off, nearly out of breath “We’re clear”. When you get up you have to hold a gasp on your throat, your apartment was a mess. Besides your door that was now broken, you so beloved book shelf was now on the floor and a couple of them seemed to be stepped on. The sight itself made you want to cry.

Some of the plant vases you were so found of were also broken and your wall had marks of what looked like missed punches from a very strong person. “Fuck.” you say getting one of the books off the floor and sliding your hands through it as if it could repare the damage. “This was a gift from my grandma.” you say in a das whisper and feel hot tears slide down your cheeks.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, y/n.” he says pulling you into a hug.

“It’s not your fault, Pete. I dragged you here, I offered for you to stay and doing it I kind of took the risk too. I’m just glad at least it was my apartment to be ruined and not my face.” you laugh sadly as you part from his hug.

“We’re gonna fix this. I’m gonna fix this.”

“No need to do this now, Peter.” you comfort him. “I’m not a superhero like you but if there’s one thing I know is when they realize these man didn’t come back, more of them are going to come so I’m getting out of here and you go back you your house. This is it.”

“What? That guy saw you.” He points at the blacked out fake cop on your floor. “I can’t just let you part from me like this. At least not now, I have to know if you’re going to be okay.”

“Here’s the plan, Parker. I have to leave this place, at least for now. I’m gonna call my work and the college and I’ll work up an excuse for my absence. Stacy is in med school so hopefully she can help me find a weird unknown disease to tell everyone I have it, she’ll cover me.”

“That’s mean.”

“Maybe.” you shrug, not really caring about moral so much when your life was in the game. “While I catch my stuff to leave you put that door back for me, will you? Tools are under the kitchen sink and if you do want to make me a favor that would be a lot of help. I’ll pack my stuff, get back here, we get out, lock my very in place door thanks to you and decide the rest afterwords.”

“Where are you going?”

“There’s a friend of mine I cat sit for, she lives in Queens, kinda far from here, which is good. She’s out for the whole month and I’m supposed to just go there tomorrow but I’m sure she won’t mind, she’s already out of town. As for you we’ll exchange numbers and you can check on me whenever you want. Sounds good?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s something.” he stays silent thinking for a while. “Wait, did you just say Queens?”

“I did, why?”

                             . . .

The first day at your friend’s house Peter called about 5 times to check on you. His first plan was to stop by at least once a day but you agreed it would be too dangerous, so set in with the calls. You did think it was a little bit much but thought it was also cute. He was, by far, the most thoughtfull and selfless person you’ve ever met. Which is why you felt so sorry for him. All of these amazing qualities he had were also the reason he got himself and the people around him in constant trouble.

With one single day experiencing his lifestyle you felt like you were about to loose it, you coudn’t begin to imagine how was it he felt that all the time. With the days going by, you started calling him too, you felt lonely and he also didn’t feel safe enough to leave his house yet. So you talked. The minutes became hours. You got to know eachother way better.

You found out he draws, and made him promise he would invite you over to his place to see his work when things got calmer. You told him about your friends, about college, your parents. And so did he. It felt weird at first talking through the phone when you both knew you were so close to eachother, but it was for the best.

The day he told you about his parents you were talking for over three hours, you don't even know where from you got all those weird subjects, but there you were. You felt even more sorry for him. Told him when you met him again you'd give him the warmest of hugs and that you hoped it would be soon.

Peter watched as the streets seemed to get calmer, he didn't see the suspicious men he was watching the earlier days so he figured maybe it was time to get back to action. One way or the other he would have to face the world again some time, and so would you.

It killed him to say so long out of the Spiderman suit. He took the time in his home to improve some aspects in it, he found out you were not bad at chemistry yourself and you both worked out an ever better web fluid formula for him to use. Now he had stocks of those.

Just like that, exactly 17 days after the incident at your apartment occured there he was back on the streets again. Peter must have gotten lost in time because it was already late when he got back home from his night patrol.

Before he slept he decided to leave you a text, warning it all went okay and that he was safe at home. When he woke up and picked up his phone to see if you had answered, his heart skipped a beat with the messages shining on the screen.

< Pete, smeone is at the door 5:51

< I think they're trying to getb in, I'm scared 5:57

< Peter hlep bpls 6:01

3 missed calls from "Y/N ☀️"

“Shit”. he mumbled with teared eyes while he got up to put his suit back on and leave his house again. “Shit, shit, shit, oh my god, please, not again, not her.” he kept leaving out curse words and pleads that you were okay.

When he saw your texts there has been about an hour they were sent. He swung quickly to the house you were staying to see if there were any signs leading to where they took you to.

Once he got there he could see the mess on the entrance of the house, the door was on the floor and the porch had drops of blood going to the street and stopping where they probably got you into a van. It seemed worst than he thought.

He was about to take a step in when he felt a nudge on his hips, scared by the touch he odly didn't feel coming he stepped back in a ridiculous fight pose to look at whatever was it that just touched him. It was a little boy.

“Spiderman, Sir.?” the high voice of the kid said to him. Now it made sense his tingle didn't feel him coming, he was no threat whatsoever. “Are you here to help my friend?”

“ Y-your friend? Do you mean y/n? Do you do you know her?” He says hoping he could get some information. Judging by the kids look he definitely saw something. The kid nods.

“I come by sometimes to play with her and wiskers, today I came and I saw some bad guys taking her so I hid. I didn't know what to do.” He started crying and Peter was quick on calming him down, also remembering time was ticking and he needed information.

“Don't worry, look, what's your name?”

“Jack.” the kid says inhaling deeply for some air.

“Okay, okay, Jack, look, you can be helpful now, okay? Tell me what you saw, anything, anything at all will be useful for me, got it? So tell me what you saw.”

. . .

a/n: I'm a sucker for Andrew's Spiderman interacting with kids 😩. I had to put it somewhere or else I'd collapse. Next chapter will be longer because I wasn't supposed the post this one yet but my dumbass pressed the button without noticing so here it is now.

taglist: @jessefandomunited​ @kdatthecastle​

[hintofelation99]

Sick day headcannons!!!!!!!

Hell yeah, I do have a post on this already (linked here) but sick day headcanons are some of my favs so let’s do some more! (Just btw there will be some repeats but that just means I rlly like that headcanon)

Dick

Dick: Oh no, god no!

Wally: What’s wrong?!

Dick: I’m dying!

Wally, suspicious: Okay…

Dick: Please Wally this is serious, I need help!

Wally, deciding to take Dick seriously: Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need?

Dick: Just a coffin. Made of maple- no oak! And roses, preferably white, oh or blue! With baby’s breath. And-

Wally: Dick, what’s wrong?!

Dick: I burnt the roof of my mouth.

Wally leaves.

A good rule of thumb for Dick is the more dramatic he is the less serious the situation. The less dramatic he is the more serious the situation.

He will go into work with a cold and complain the entire day.

If he has something serious that’s contagious he’ll call in sick but just say it’s a slight stomach bug.

If it’s not contagious he will act like everything is completely fine.

One time he did this after getting an injury on patrol and ended up passing out and spending that night and the next day in the ICU.

He has become a bit more responsible over the years, mainly bc he thinks it’s adorable how sweet and cuddly Damian gets.

His favorite sick day activity is eating junk food and watching rom coms under a fuzzy blanket .

Babs

Dick: Please go to bed!

Babs: I am, I am, just one more line of code.

Dick: You’ve said that for the last three hours!

Babs tries to relax when sick but she has trouble actually taking a step back to rest.

Most of the time she’ll take a nightquil then get distracted by something and ends up falling asleep in front of her screen.

Usually Cass or Steph will come over and take care of her.

Steph always makes the best comfort food. And usually Cass will tuck Babs into bed.

Babs loves dozing on the couch to the sound of Cass and Steph laughing in the kitchen as they make her soup.

If Cass and Steph can’t come over she loves talking to them over discord while eating take out. Usually she and Cass just listen to Steph babble or she watches on of them stream something.

She also usually ends up falling asleep.

Jason

Bruce: Are you sick?

Jason: I’m legally dead.

Bruce: That doesn’t-

Jason: So,legally, no. I am not sick.

Jason will forever and always argue that he can’t get sick since he already died.

When he was little he was rarely able to get extra rest when he was sick. Because when he was really little he wanted to go to school to avoid Willis. After Catherine died he was too busy just trying to survive to focus on being healthy.

But when Catherine was alive and Willis was away Jason would stay home from school, and if Catherine was sober she would read to him and sing lullabies. This only happened like twice but Jason cherishes those memories of Catherine.

As a kid if he was ever sent home for being sick he’d get in huge trouble with Willis.

After being adopted the first time he was sent home with a fever he begged Alfred not to tell Bruce and hid in his closet until he stopped crying being sad. Alfred sat by the closet door with soup, a grilled cheese, and tea, reading The Princess Bride aloud until Jason came out. It took two hours.

Jason’s favorite sick day activity is drinking tea and rereading The Princess Bride (with the movie playing quietly in the background) while wearing his Wonder Woman hoodie.

Cass

Steph: Cass why are you patrolling while sick?!

Cass shrugs.

Steph, with a sigh: You’re allowed to take a sick day, okay?

Cass looks unsure but nods.

Steph: C’mon, let’s get you a bath and fuzzy blankets.

Cass forgets that she’s not just a weapon/tool. She forgets that she’s allowed to rest when sick.

Because of this she will keep going no matter what and tends to view ‘taking a sick day’ as a failure.

Steph, Tim, and Babs have been working on this with her. She’s improved a lot now that Tim lost his spleen and gets sick easily.

Now usually Steph cooks for her while Babs lays with her.

Cass isn’t against taking medicine but she never feels like the situation is severe enough to require medication. So someone in the fam has to convince her to take her meds.

She becomes extremely cuddly when sick and will cling to anyone near her.

Her favorite sick day activity is watching old horror movies with Steph or Babs.

Steph

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m- I have a fever of 104, I should rest.

Stephs mom is a doctor, so she’s used to being told “it’s just a cold, you’re fine”.

Usually she keeps going until she can’t then sleeps for like three days.

But it’s less out of stubbornness and more out of habit. So if someone tells her to rest she’s immediately like “okay!” and takes the sick day.

Babs always calls or comes over to check on her every day that she’s sick.

Cass has been learning how to cook and loves making Steph food when she’s sick.

Tim used to come over but now he always calls.

Stephs favorite sick day activity is sleeping with an ice pack or heating pad, depending on the sickness, with a giant cup of ginger ale and Cass curled up beside her.

Tim

Jason: Tim, are you sick?

Tim, tiredly staring at case files: No I-

Tim is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Tim: Oh, I guess I am?

Growing up Tim loved getting sick because it meant the house keeper would come over and take care of him and he might even get a hug.

But she stopped coming over when Tim was ten, his parents thought he was old enough to handle being sick on his own.

Sick days in the manor were a shock to him because he was rarely alone, there was always one family member by his side.

Now that he’s immunocompromised he’s always surrounded by people, he pretends to get annoyed with it but really he loves how much they care.

Dick always sings Romani lullabies and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. Jason, Duke, and Steph will cook for him. Damian stay by his side and bring him tea. Babs will play video games with him. And Cass does a bit of everything, at least everything other than sing to him.

The family also takes Tim getting sick very seriously so if they here one cough he’s immediately being interrogated and getting his temperature checked.

Tim’s favorite sick day activity is laying under a weighted blanket with a cup of tea and playing video games with Babs, Steph, Duke, and Cass.

Duke

Dick, knocking on Duke’s door: Hey bud, why are you still in bed? I thought we were training together?

Duke: Sorry, I forgot to cancel. I’m sick and don’t think I can handle training today.

Dick: You’re sick?!

Duke: Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve been disinfecting and cleaning so no one else should get sick.

Dick: I’m not worried about getting sick, I’m worried about you!

Duke: …oh, okay.

Growing up sick days were spent at home either resting alone or with one of his parents.

He had to do some fending for himself (like cleaning and making food when his parents weren’t home with him) but nothing extreme or unexpected. So, overall he had pretty normal sick days.

After he parents went missing he was so focused on getting them back and saving them that he never stopped to rest when sick.

Now as a member of the Wayne family his sick days are always spent with someone by his side, at least they are if he tells the family he’s sick.

He’s gotten in trouble several times for not telling Alfred/the family that’s he’s sick. Not because he puts Tim at risk, he like all the family is very cautious about that, but because everyone worries about him and wants to help take care of him.

After several lectures from Alfred he’s finally getting better about telling the family when he’s sick.

His favorite sick day activity is reading Jason’s copy of The Princess Bride while having a bowl of Alfred’s chicken noodle soup.

Damian

Jason: Are you sick?

Damian: N-

Damian sneezes like a kitten.

Damian: No.

Cass, smiling: Sick baby brother, cute sneeze.

Damian tries to be offended but ends up having a sneezing fit.

Steph: That’s so adorable!!

Damian has the most adorable sneezes. He literally sounds like a kitten and the entire family and hero community finds it adorable. Damian hates it.

He used to try and pretend he wasn’t sick and just work through it.

Then he sneezes in front of Harley and Ivy and they cooed over him for an hour.

Now he grumpily secluded himself in his room when sick.

Usually the family will check on him and find that Jon flew over and they’re cuddling on his bed watching cartoons.

When Damian’s sick he really craves spicy food. Like everything he eats he’ll add hot sauce or pepper to. His food is so spicy that only Cass can handle it, like it makes ghost peppers look like child’s play.

His favorite sick day activity is drinking masala chai under one of Tim’s fuzzy blankets while wearing Dick’s old hoodies and surrounding himself with various soft things he stole from his siblings. This is preferably done while eating spicy tomato or lentil soup and watching cartoons with Jon.

[hesgunnalovethis]

Act of Guilt

Summary: Your actions planetside begin to interfere with your daily life and Leonard McCoy, struggling to see you this way, wants to help.

TW: Teen rating for mature themes, we’re talking through some sleep paralysis, we’re having bad dreams, we're absolutely full of angst but we end on a high besties <33

This one goes out to all my homies that are overworked and underappreciated :’) whether it be school, college, uni, careers or general life; you are seen, you are valid and I think you’re doing a great job and so does our homeboy Leonard McCoy.

Masterlist!

Word Count: 1855

You were used to waking up against the frigid grey of the Enterprise. Even as a high ranking officer you were each assigned the same internal quarters, uniform in presentation. Glutted, you often heard a little more than you wanted to on either side of your walls. You feared that perhaps they heard a little too much as well.

You were used to waking up with frozen limbs. With the same familiar feeling washing over your head before rushing down to tighten your chest. The same reluctance to open your eyes to reveal whichever heinous scene your subconscious displayed within your familiar raw walls.

Every night played out the same: the face of someone you loved in front of your pointed phaser switched to kill, heaved awake by the thud of their lifeless body, held a frozen prisoner forced to endure whichever fear felt most prominent that morning.

Recently you couldn’t even bring yourself to near the bed. You’d return from shifts to sit on the bitter floor and recount the enemies you’d killed in the name of Starfleet. You’d think of their lives, their loved ones, their dreams.

You were brought to Starfleet to be a doctor; now it seems they’d have you do anything but.

It was Thursday. You made your way to the medbay to be briefed on the rota for this week. You weaved in and out of a sea of uniforms who stalked towards their own respective bases for their own respective rotas.

Your week often looked the same - another sense of routine you couldn’t seem to escape - five days with the ground team, one shift in the medbay, one day off. Your medbay shift was always the same too. Sunday shift: the biggest influx of causalities, highs of inpatients with the longest turnover time, most surgeries performed and somehow always understaffed.

Moving towards your, makeshift, office you picked up your PADD and looked for the rota that Leonard always sent to you prior to the briefing. Seven days of ground work. You almost doubled over from the thought of it. Your entire body felt hot as you took deep breath convincing bodily fluids to stay put.

With frantic pace you arrived at Leonard’s, very much real, office and found him turned away finishing his notes for the day.

You dropped the PADD in front of him with force, “Explain.”

“You know that if I had it my way you’d be here seven days a week.” Leonard spoke as if rehearsed, he’d obviously anticipated your visit.

“You have jurisdiction here, Leonard. Surely there’s something you can do? Something you haven’t tried?” You scrambled out as Leonard put his pen down and held his head in his hands.

“I’ve tried everything darlin’. You don’t know how important it is to me that you’re here.” Your mind flicked through your conversations in the medbay that went on a little too long as you stood a little too close. Stolen moments through the day you’d fill with genuine laughter and escapism. The fresh flowers that would appear in your crooked office that he’d never let you thank him for. You remembered the shifts where Leonard would let you take the lead while he caught up on sleep on his couch. The days you’d both stay behind and drink away the sourness until you met the sweetness of his lips on yours. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Tell them we’re understaffed. Tell them I’m indispensable. Tell them-” Your voice broke. Leonard head lifted at the sound revealing a deep hole in his cheek unmistakably driven in by a phaser shot.

You gasped, stumbling back through his office tripping over the coffee table centre piece of the room. Leonard moved towards you. Unable to take your eyes off the hole in his face as your hands dripped with blood and guilt you expelled your body weight willing the pull door to push open. Leonard’s hands levelled either side of the door frame his face close to yours. Ears muffled and knees giving way you pressed your eyes shut concealing the scene.

“Y/N?” Leonard asked after a few moments of stillness before lifting one of your eyelids shining his torch in each eye. As you readjusted to the light you saw Leonard’s face again, clean of everything but concern. You glanced round the room to find the coffee table the only thing out of place and your hands sweating but clean. You reached for Leonard pulling him in towards you. His hands swept round your back and he pressed a kiss into your temple.

“What” he asked, “the hell was that?”

“Felt like my dream.” You said performing exercises to convince Leonard you did not have a head injury without him asking.

“And you often have dreams of murderous me?” Leonard dissolved, guiding you towards the seats in the middle of the room, straightening the coffee table.

“No. I often have dreams of murderous me.”

Curious and cautious Leonard sat opposite you and reached for your hand. He pulled back sharply at first “You’re iced.” He clasped both your hands in his and puffed a long warm breath between them. Slowly your anxiety began to melt. The breath was real. The warmth was real.

“Every night I have a dream, eerily like an away mission, only the faces are swapped and I know who I’m killing. And then, I wake up and watch them die on my floor and my body screams at me to wake up and help them but I’m frozen. I can’t move.”

“Sleep paralysis?” Leonard asked still rubbing your hands between his own.

“That would be my guess. Every morning. Some nights I can’t face it.”

“What do you do those nights?”

“I stay up. Sit on the ground and think about all the lives I’ve taken in a job where I’m supposed to save them.” You stood up and walked towards the window in Leonard’s office, poking open the blinds to view the busy medbay. You sighed at the internal architecture of the ship. “It’s like I’m not real. I exist within grey walls or as a killing machine.” You slumped back down in the chair.

Leonard leaned forward slipping his hand round the back of your neck, scratching the base of your hair line. He held eye contact with you and sincerely stated, “You’re quite dramatic.”

“Week after week, Leonard. Every time I shut my eyes I see you or Jim or- or Chekov lifeless because of me! Makes you think of what those lives I’ve ended meant to someone else.” You stood up again walking towards the blinds, poking them open slightly hoping to see a different landscape. “And why does this ship have no exterior windows! Would it kill them to let me see the stars? Remind me where I came from.” Spitting the end vehemently towards Starfleet architects.

“Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while?” Leonard placed a hand on your shoulder, his other hand working the blinds out of your fingers before you broke them. “A change of scenery might do some good.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me I need to work through my guilt and reconceptualise my relationship with my job?”

“You’re a damn fine doctor Y/N. You don’t need me to tell you that, you just need a clear head to realise it for yourself.”

Leonard led you out of the medbay shouting a mere, “I’m a doctor, not a motivational speaker damnit.” In place of his weekly briefing.

Together you walked the length of the ship. Leonard asked you more about your dreams presenting it as conversational but you could see the medical cogs in his brain turning. “You’ve never had psychological training?” Leonard asked at one point with a startled stopping of his feet.

“Psychological training? What med school did you go to?” Scoffing at his faith in The Academy.

“Not med school, but I did a fair whack before I joined Jim’s ground team. You’ve never had- my god! No wonder you’re wracked with guilt darlin’ that is- that is- how did you ever end up planetside?”

“I don’t know I’m just pretty handy with a phaser I guess.” You said as you arrived at a door with the letters C.M.O emblazed on the front. “Nice door. How come I’ve never been here?”

Leonard shrugged “ ‘s not my fault you prefer the desk.” He stated opening the door to his double sized room.

Smooth navy covered the walls, beautifully contrasting the deep wooden furniture and shelves of brown bottles. Surrounded by whiffs of comforting warm fires and cheap rum you watched as Leonard ordered on the lights and followed him through to the next room. There was no doubt that Leonard lived a full life back home. His living space was full of southern knick-knacks and photographs of people you’d never known. There was a small collection of silver neck chains on show, thoroughly worn although never while on shift and nine or ten small stacks of crime novels strewn across the floor.

“This might cheer you up sweetheart.” Leonard tossed his PADD onto his cracked brown leather couch and made his way to the back wall which was entirely concealed by a deep purple curtain. Taking a bundle of the thick fabric in his hands, he eyed you before trudging it across the room revealing a vast ceiling to floor window. You caught your reflection in the glass and clapped your mouth shut looking to Leonard in shock.

“Bit of a sick joke for an aviophobiac.” Leonard physically shuddered at the open black, “But if it makes you happy it’s worth it.”

Bounding over the top of Leonards sofa to get a better look, you gazed out over the space you’d called home for past three years. Something about the infinite expanse always grounded you. The lack of endings and the billions of possibilities that presented made all of your worries and problems seem positively insignificant. It left you searing with luck to be living regardless. You moved even closer letting your breath fog up the glass. Leonard moved behind you hugging you round the middle and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Look at it Leonard. Isn’t it just-”

“Horrifying?”

“Do you really look at that and feel nothing?” You were aghast at the thought.

Leonard sighed “I appreciate the sentiment of it.” He concluded. “It reminds me of a Jorge Luis Borges quote.”

“I didn’t realise you were so well read.” You both shared another moment of genuine laughter, “What’s the quote?”

“He says, ‘I’m not sure I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people I have met, all the women that I have loved;” He squeezed your arm as he spoke “All the cities I have visited.’ Reminds me of you actually. All the lives you’ve saved in the medbay and planeside. You leave a part of you everywhere you go; that’s what I think is beautiful, doll.”

You turned to him. He held your gaze firmly and you knew he meant the words he’d spoken. You rested your head against his chest silently thanking him for his kindness, you knew he’d never let you say it out loud. This wasn’t your home, but Leonard smelled of home for we all leave a part of ourselves in those we love.

Together you turned the couch to face the window and under Leonard’s duvet slept a full night of dreamless sleep woken only by a PADD dropped on your chest with the same force you’d dropped at Leonard yesterday.

“Five days in the medbay.” He gestured towards the open rota displayed on the screen, “Two days off. Including Sunday.”

[tsukishumai]

Chemical Reaction - Kuroo Tetsuro

Summary: When the universe hands you a second chance, will you be able to move on from the mistakes of your past? 

college!Kuroo x fem!reader

a friends to friends w/ benefits to lovers type of deal.

Warnings: some light NSFW, slow burn, aged up characters, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, fingering, cursing, and a little heartbreak. angst to fluff

Word Count: 7.3k (it goes by fast, I swear (′ꈍωꈍ‵))

A/N:  Jesus... this started out as a prompt, but it snowballed into whatever the hell this is. And it was supposed to be done by Kuroo’s bday T-T but better late than never! I poured in a lil extra love into this, pls give it a shot, lmk what you think, and I hope you enjoy !

Your history with Kuroo Tetsuro went back a little bit further than you’d like to admit.

He had been in your class for all three years you were at Nekoma, but you had really only popped onto each other’s radars second year.

He had been assigned the seat next to you, and while you were upset that your best friend, Eri, had been sat all the way across the room, you didn’t exactly mind the view.  

Right off the bat, you knew this was going to be trouble for you.

The guy was cute, funny, and smart. How hadn’t you noticed him before?

“Hey, L/N-chan,” he said, already making you blush with the addition of the honorific, “I have many chemistry jokes… but I’m afraid they won’t get a good reaction!”

You couldn’t stop either the face palm or the giggle that slipped out of your lips.

Kuroo was an easy person to get along with. He always greeted you in the mornings, and never really bothered you during class. On the rare occasion he stayed in the classroom for lunch, the two of you would strike up a conversation, but it never went past the surface.

Until about halfway through the school year. Your teacher had assigned a project that required a partner.

You looked to Eri, only to find the little traitor pairing up with the guy she had been eyeing since first year.

You sighed, not even mad at her for trying to shoot her shot.

“Want to be partners?” your head shot to the boy next to you.

“Uhm. Sure!”

And so it went like this; the project was due at the end of the year, requiring a research paper, and a 7 minute power point presentation.

Once or twice a week, the two of you would meet up at the school library either before school or after your club activities.

Kuroo was smart; smarter than you but you’d never say that to his face, so more often than not, the two of you would finish what needed to be done that day, and spent the rest of the time just talking, and getting to know each other.

By the third time the two of you had gotten kicked out by the librarian for laughing too much, Kuroo suggested meeting at his house on the weekends.

Surely that doesn’t mean what you think it means right???

It doesn’t, lmao. This guy was a good student, he made sure you guys finished your parts, because there was no way he was going to get anything less than an A.

Oh, you guys finished a little early today? Great! L/N-chan! Help me with my receives!

As the weeks pass by, there was a mutual progression in the relationship, neither of you seeing each other as project partners anymore, and falling into a comfortable friendship.

For Kuroo, that is. You, on the other hand, just became way too good at acting like you weren’t falling in love.

The school year is coming to a close, and you turn in your project.

Surprise, surprise! You guys got an A.

Seriously, the teacher said she was going to start using it as an example for the future students.

You couldn’t even be happy about your passing grade; you were too sad that your time with Kuroo was ending.

“Well, it was really fun being your partner this year,” you said, and Kuroo cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Why do you sound like someone’s dying,” he joked, “Anyway, Kenma said he bought a new game, but it’s multiplayer. What time are you coming this weekend?”

Bitch, ya heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

For a little while, you were content with things being like that. You had become good friends with not just Kuroo, but Kenma as well. You guys weren’t always together, but definitely made a point to make time for each other.

While you guys were usually busy during the week, club activities, homework and school taking up most of your time, Saturdays at Kuroo’s had become a thing well into your third year. As much as possible, you would try to attend his games, and he would try to bring you snacks when he knows you’re stuck studying.

You tried really hard not to read into the things he would do for you.

Surely, he’s also held Kenma’s bag while walking him home, right?

He’s memorized his whole team’s schedule; it’s nothing special if he also has yours memorized.

You know that he only brought you lunch today because he had to share half of his when you forgot yours.

All normal friend stuff, right! Right?!

“I met a cute girl the other day,” he said to you absentmindedly one morning before class.

Wait. Your chest shouldn’t feel so tight, should it? Your eyes are swimming, and your head is floating. Every breath feels like lead in your lungs, and you kinda wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“Oh, Really?” you tried to be nonchalant, and hoped he didn’t notice the shakiness in your voice.

He nodded. “Yeah… she’s kinda funny.”

But you were really funny, weren’t you? You were the one that made him laugh like a hyena, made him clutch his stomach and gasp for breath, right?

“Is that so?” your mouth felt like sandpaper, “Why don’t you try taking her out on a date?”

You wish you had never said those words.

You knew the girl he was talking about; you had seen Kuroo approach her in the hallway.

She was your teammate in the track and field club; not one of the fastest, but she was beautiful, kind, friendly, and Kuroo was right – she really was kind of funny.

“You should have told him first, you know,” Kenma had mumbled from next to you once, eyes never leaving his game while yours quickly shot him a glare.

It was just the two of you at the lunch table – Kuroo mumbling an excuse about having plans with another “friend”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kenma just rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

You spend the next few weeks avoiding him; it was easier since he didn’t sit next to you in class anymore, you weren’t really replying to his texts as often, you stopped visiting him and Kenma at practice, and you had missed the game you had told them you would try to go to.

You were kind of starting to realize that it was mostly you that had to go and seek them out.

Now that you weren’t doing these things… where was he?

You would catch a glimpse of Kuroo when he would visit your teammate during practice; he would try to greet you but you’d only shoot him a tight smile.

So when you heard a loud knock on your door at eight o clock in the evening, the last person you expected was the roosterhead himself.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I could tell something was bothering you, and I’ve been trying to give you your space, but… it’s been weeks now so, I just have to know… Are you avoiding me?”

You didn’t really know what to say, if there is even anything else to. Even with your head down and eyes trained to your feet, you could feel the burn of his gaze.

“I...” the deep timbre of his voice always managed to give you chills, “I miss you.”

Is he fucking serious right now? He’s so smart, yet he can’t put two and two together? He can see his opponents’ moves before they happen, yet he can’t even see you standing right in front of him?

“I have feelings for you, Kuroo,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Kuroo’s eyes widened by a fraction, his mouth slightly hung agape, dumbfounded by your seemingly random confession.

Except, it wasn’t random to you. You’ve been harboring these feelings for months, and after hurting yourself by staying silent for so long, you decided that you deserve better.

You’ll accept whatever the outcome, if that’s the price for your peace.

“Y/N…” it took him a long time to finally speak, and you try to ignore the fact that this is the first time he’s called you by your first name.

His face clearly showed his struggle to get the words out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I –“

You raised your hand. You didn’t really want to hear any more than that.

“It’s okay,” you said, giving him a small smile.

And with that, you shut the door on Kuroo Tetsuro.

You do your best to move on, smiling and laughing with friends you wouldn’t usually talk to you, ignoring the ghost of your past that haunt you every time you walked passed by Kuroo and your teammate down the hall.

You throw back a laugh at whatever the person next to you had said, turning away to miss the fact that Kuroo’s eyes always followed you wherever you went.

Graduation day came and in the blink of an eye, your days at Nekoma were behind you.

The days passed, the seasons changed, the flowers bloomed, and then they died.

You started university, moving to a different city and living with the very same best friend whose betrayal to quench her own thirst became the catalyst for your greatest heartbreak.

You’ve forgiven her for that though, you guess.

Life in college was the breath of fresh air that you needed.

New things to learn, new places to discover, and new faces to help you forget the scars of old ones.

Years pass by, and while you’ve allowed yourself to feel the touch of others, allow them to make you laugh, allow them to make you cry, you’ve never really allowed yourself the luxury of falling in love again.

Who has time for that any way?

Definitely not you. You just needed to finish your undergrad, and get into med school.

You had plans for your life, you weren’t going to compromise your dreams just for another person, and no matter whom you dated or how much they liked you, this fact had always rubbed them the wrong way.

You were finally starting your last year at your undergrad, quite possibly one of the most important years of college, what with your thesis, med school applications, and your entire future pretty much on the line, no big deal.

Your first class of the day was chemistry. You had been avoiding the last chemistry class required by your degree, all of your friends telling you that it was one of the hardest classes they’ve ever taken, and so naturally, you ran away for as long as possible.

The class wasn’t due to start for another fifteen minutes when you walked in, giving you a perfect opportunity to grab a seat of your liking.

You ended up choosing one in the third row – you knew that if you sat in the back, you wouldn’t pay attention.

You take out your laptop, books, and all required materials, using this free time to check any emails from your professors.

You were checking the time – 5 minutes left until class started – when you were interrupted.

“L/N-chan?”

Your feel your body stiffen up at the sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in years.

You turn your head to your left, hoping to all the gods that maybe you were mistaken.

“Kuroo?” you said in disbelief, and oh honey… you could not believe he was standing right before you.

Kuroo seemed like he hadn’t changed at all. His hair seemed a little bit more managed, he was a little bit taller, his muscles filled out his shirt better… but he still had the same goofy smile on his face, and that undeniably mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “I thought you went to a university in Tokyo?”

“I did, but I transferred this year,” he said, “This university has a great marketing program.”

“I can’t believe it,” you mumble out, more so to yourself than him, “It’s been years.”

He gave you a smile. “It has.”

He took the seat next to you, much to your surprise. You almost wanted to open your mouth in protest, but what could you say? ‘You can’t sit there’?

You were thankful that the class had only gone over the syllabus, because you didn’t hear a word the professor said.

When you told Eri about it later, she just laughed.

“I always thought Kuroo-san was a nice guy,” she commented, her back turned while she cooked the both of you dinner.

“I never said he wasn’t,” you said, throwing back the rest of the wine in your glass.

“What, you still like him or something?” Eri teased, plating the noodles she had created and setting it in front of you.

“Of course not,” you grumbled, stabbing at the plate with a fork, and the amused look on Eri’s face tells you that her silence was just to placate you.

The next few weeks of the semester went by without any incident.

Kuroo stayed in the seat next to you, and you didn’t let yourself wonder why.

You were proud at yourself for being able to talk to Kuroo the way that you were; he still made the same stupid chemistry jokes in high school, but now you felt like you could laugh at them without choking on the air around you.

It was easy.

Until it wasn’t.

“Alright everyone,” your professor began one rainy morning, “We’re about halfway through the semester, and this is usually around the time I like to assign a little project.”

All of a sudden, you felt a strange feeling of déjà vu.

“Now, it’s only going to be worth about a third of your grade in the class, so I suggest not slacking off on this one. This is going to require a partner, and before you go texting your bestie that you want to ‘link up’, I’ve taken the liberty of assigning your partner for you.”

Oh, Christ. You were praying you wouldn’t get partnered up with a dead weight.

“When I call your name, raise your hand so I could introduce you to your new partner.”

You waited patiently for your name to be called, but Kuroo’s had been called first.

“Kuroo Testuro.”

Kuroo raised his hand.

“Your partner will be... let’s see here… ah, L/N F/N!”

No. No fucking way.

Your arm involuntarily raised, the professor nodding his head in acknowledgement.

You slowly turn to face Kuroo, who had an unreadable smile placed on his lips, your professor’s voice droning on in the background.

“Well,” he said, laughter laced in his words, “Isn’t this familiar?”

At first, you felt incredibly apprehensive at the thought of being partnered with your high school crush, but at the end of the day, you were actually incredibly thankful.

Kuroo was just as smart and diligent as he was back then, and you had every confidence that your project was going to get the highest grade.

You tried to make it a point to meet in public places – cafes, libraries, and the like.

But soon, Kuroo suggested that it would just be easier and more comfortable to meet at either your place or his.

He only ever came by when Eri was home too, which would have been fine if the smirk on her face didn’t make you so nervous.

You noticed that his roommate was always around when you came over as well. You learned his name was Bokuto, and though he was a little loud, his presence was actually a little comforting.

Honestly, it all felt so… nostalgic. Whenever you would finish your work for the day, then the two of you would spend the time talking, catching up, and laughing at stupid jokes, almost as if the two of you were friends again.

Almost like nothing happened between you at all.

“Hey,” you started one day, curiosity getting the better of you after a particularly steamy conversation about past relationships, sitting on the floor with your iPad on your lap and homework strewn about all over the living room floor, “Whatever happened between you and that girl from high school?”

Kuroo just gave you a sad smile, and you thought she must have broken his heart pretty badly.

“Oh that…” he waved it off, “That was a mistake. A big one.”

You figured it was better not to ask any more questions.

Eri walked out of her room soon after Kuroo left that night, her arms crossed and leaning against the door’s archway as she watched you wash the dishes.

You guys are getting pretty close,” she mused.

She couldn’t see you roll your eyes. “Well, yeah, we were pretty good friends in high school.”

Eri let out a humorless laugh. “I stand by my statement that Kuroo-san is a nice guy,” she said, walking up next to you to place a hand on your shoulder, “But I haven’t forgotten how long it took you to get over what happened.”

Your hands stilled in the soapy water for a second, but you chose not to say anything.

“I’m just saying,” Eri started to walk back to her room, calling out her last words behind her shoulder, “Be careful.”

Eri’s words echoed in your head whenever you were with Kuroo.

Every time he offered to pay for your food, you made sure to insist you’d pay for it yourself. If he tried to grab your bag from your shoulder when you walked, you’d hold on tighter and say you were fine.

You didn’t avoid him like you did before, but you made every attempt to keep him at arm’s length.

It seems your attempts were all for nothing, however, when the semester ended.

“Amazing job,” were the words that came from your professor when giving your passing grade.

“We did it,” Kuroo said happily, the two of you making your way out of the class, “It’s finally over.”

“Thank god,” you laughed back.

“Hey,” Kuroo started, though he was looking at everywhere but you, “Bokuto’s gone and visiting his boyfriend for the weekend, but I was wondering if you wanted to come over for drinks later?”

You blinked, trying to even your breathing.

“You know, to celebrate the end of the semester, and acing that nightmare class.”

You should say no, right? Wait, but you’re grown now. You’ve moved on from what happened back then. The two of you did work really hard this semester, what’s wrong with celebrating your achievements?

“I think we’ve earned it,” Kuroo laughed.

“Yeah,” you said, and you were glad for it just from the smile that spread on his stupid face, “We really have! I’ll be there.”

“See you at eight?”

You nodded at his words as he waved goodbye, going your separate ways.

Ten hours later, you were sitting next to Kuroo on his living room floor, sake cup full to the brim as BNHA plays on his TV.

“Ah, Deku’s in the hospital,” Kuroo slurred, sake sloshing out of his cup when he pointed to the screen, “That’s a shot!”

The two of you threw back the warm liquid, and you were kind of worried that it didn’t taste like anything anymore.

“Kuroo,” you laughed, “We’re only on the second episode… and I think I’ve taken, like, twelve shots at this point.”

“This was your idea!”

“Well, I have another idea,” you started to get up, causing Kuroo to get up as well, “Let’s order take out!”

He laughed at your red face, agreeing with you.

You started to make your way to the couch, but all of a sudden, you felt dizzy, a head rush taking over your senses as you stumbled over your feet.

Kuroo caught you before you could hit the floor.

“You okay?” he laughed, and the sound of it elicited a laugh from your own lips.

In a second, the two of you erupted in giggles, snickering at nothing in particular while his strong arms still held you in place.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of his touch on your skin, and you let your eyes trail from the strong hands around your waist, to the golden honey eyes that were already staring at your face.

You can’t exactly remember how, but the next thing you knew, you were pinned under Kuroo on his bed, his soft lips moving in tandem with yours while his hot tongue took over your whole mouth.

Your arms were looped around his neck, and he slid his calloused hands up your arm.

You felt his hands grip onto your wrists before he pulled them off his necked and pinned them onto the mattress.

You took in a deep breath once he disconnected from your mouth, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw line and down to your neck, before you slid his tongue across your supple skin.

You shivered, acutely aware of the fact that he has you trapped.

“Be careful,” Eri’s words echoed in your mind.

Fuck, you tried to think but it was hard when Kuroo just threw his shirt across the room, hovering over you with chiseled abs and defined muscles.

The heat returned to your body when he lowered his head, and popped a hard nipple into his mouth.

Your body arched at the feel of his teeth grazing against your skin, goosebumps racing when he dipped his hand beneath your underwear, a slender finger gliding down your folds before inserting into you.

You weren’t prepared for the intrusion, and he captured the gasp that came out of your mouth with his lips.

He was now holding down both of your wrists with one hand, never realizing that he was that much bigger than you.

He slid out his finger, bringing it to his mouth to give a long lick, before dipping his hand back down, and pushing in two.

You threw your head back when Kuroo curled his fingers, wondering how the hell he was able to find your g spot so quickly.

You felt like an animal caught in his trap, caged in with your arms pinned down, no choice but to let Kuroo draw out your orgasm while he pumped and curled into you, circling his thumb over your swollen clit.

Your legs were shaking while you screamed out his name, embarrassed that you were cumming so hard when he hasn’t even actually fucked you

He didn’t give you a chance to recover from your orgasm

In one swift movement, Kuroo let go of your hands and pulled out his fingers so he could grab a leg in each hand to fold you over in a press.

You don’t even know when Kuroo had taken his pants – or yours – off, and you didn’t have time to wonder.

A moan escaped your lips at the feel of his length filling you up, and you distinctly hear Kuroo tell you to say his name.

“Kuroo,” you moaned, bringing your hands to his shoulders, grasping at his body.

Every buck of his hips shot a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, unable to escape the feeling with Kuroo holding you down in place.

Who the hell would want to escape from here anyway?

“My first name,” he growled, quickening his pace when he felt your walls tighten around his dick.

“Tetsuro!” you screamed without a second thought, the brutal rhythm Kuroo has set driving heat onto your stomach, repeating his name over and over even after you feel your pussy gushing all over him, your cum dripping down from his shaft to his balls.

“Fuck,” Kuroo growled out, driving into you one last time before he spilled hot white, trying hard to catch his breath while coming down from this high.

The two of you lay together in the darkness for a while, your head on his chest and his arms around his shoulder.

The silence that surrounded the room was comfortable; almost like a bubble of peace that neither of you wanted to pop by saying anything.

“Be careful,” Eri’s fucking voice told you, yet again

While you didn’t regret what had just happened between you and Kuroo, doubts were beginning to creep in your mind.

What the hell was supposed to happen now? You’re not sure if Kuroo was expecting this outcome when he invited you over for drinks, but it happened, and you’re not really sure where to go from here.

You’ve already built a life for yourself – one that was truly yours – and you had a path that you had every intention to follow.

Would Kuroo be like every other guy and run away when he finds out you’re not compromising your plans for him? Would you even want to try to fit him into your plans?

You shake your head.

Jesus, get a grip. A guy dicks you down /once/, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about this shit?

“Y/N? You okay?” He asked from beside you.

You lift your head from his chest, sitting up so you could lean your back against his headboard. Kuroo was quick to mirror your actions.

“Kuroo,” you begin to tell him, and he frowned a little at the sound of his last name, “That was… amazing.”

Kuroo blushed a little at your compliment, though he knew it didn’t stop there. “…But?”

“But,” you bit your lip, “I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

Kuroo didn’t respond right away, but maybe that’s because you just kept babbling. “It’s just… I have so much going on with school, not to mention grad school applications are due in a few months, and who knows which university I’ll end up going to after graduation…”

You finally had the courage to look at him, and you caught a glimpse of what you would have thought was sadness in his eyes if it hadn’t been blinked away so quickly, soon replaced with that same unreadable smile.

“Whatever you want, Kitten,” he replied, “This doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is.”

You let out a breath of relief.

He walked you home that night (or morning, considering it was 1am), still trying your best to set boundaries even though you pretty much let him thoroughly wreck you.

He didn’t give you a kiss goodbye, instead sheepishly waving when he sees you entering the door to your apartment, saying he’ll shoot you a text tomorrow.

You thought things would be weird between the two of you after that night, but you were happy to find that it wasn’t.

You had managed to rekindle your friendship with Kuroo – meeting up to study, grabbing lunch if you had the time, maybe catching the occasional movie.

Though, you didn’t tell Eri about the added benefits.

(Kuroo Tetsu-hoe) Today: 12:37AM

You up?

[To: Kuroo Tetsu-hoe] Today: 12:49AM

Yeah, doing my Lit. paper.

(Kuroo Tetsu-hoe) Today: 12:50AM

Wanna do me instead?

[To: Kuroo Tetsu-hoe] Today: 12:58AM

Say less.

ou didn’t have to tell Eri about the added benefits – she wasn’t dumb, where else would her roommate be going in the middle of night?

You’ve had other men before, going through your fair share of sexual experiences before climbing into bed with Kuroo.

But he was still managing to show you new things, reaching spots you never even knew existed before, putting his mouth in places that made your eyes water and lungs burn from gasping for air.

You can’t explain the feeling you get when he’s running his hands across your body, and when he stares at you and nothing but you while he’s pumping into you and making you feel so full in more ways than one, it’s something akin to a chemical reaction.

There was one time, when he took a belt, secured it against his head post before he brought your legs up to –

“Earth to Y/N,” Kuroo said, waving a hand in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, “I was having a flashback.”

Kuroo smirked, knowing exactly what you meant.  

The two of you were lying in bed, your back against his chest and a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

You laid your hand on top of his, fiddling with his fingers and reveling in the calm that always came from being with Kuroo.

“What you thinking about?” You ask, and the way he stiffened up in your grip let you know that something really was bothering him.

It took him a little longer than you’d like before he replied.

“Do you ever feel like… you want more?”

This time, it was you that stilled in his arms.

“Be Careful.”

You turned around to face Kuroo.

“I thought we talked about this?”

Kuroo’s eyes searched your face, for what, you have no idea. But you stared back with just as much intensity, hoping that he would find the answer he was looking for.

Fear. That’s what was written all over your face.

Kuroo let out a humorless laugh. “Forget I said anything.”

He stood up to put his boxers on and slipping on a shirt before heading out onto the balcony that was attached to his room.

You gave him a few moments before getting up to gather your clothes from the floor, silently putting them on before you joined him outside.

You find him leaning against the balcony railing on his forearms, a cigarette lit in one hand.

He doesn’t turn his head towards you, but he does offer his cigarette, and you take it quietly.

You bring the white filter to your lips, taking a deep drag, closing your eyes when you feel your head get lighter, and releasing the smoke from your lungs.

“Kuroo,” you started, voice nothing but a soft whisper, “I’m sorry… I didn’t – “

He raised a hand to stop you.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “Like I said, forget I mentioned anything.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, taking his cigarette back from you and taking a drag himself, “Kenma’s having a party this weekend. They’re inviting over some old classmates from Nekoma. He says he misses you. You should come.”

Your ears perk up at the invitation, excited at the thought of seeing your old friend and a little happy that he’s moving past the subject.

"Kenma? Is having a party?”

Kuroo laughed. “Alright. Yaku is having a party, but we’re doing it at Kenma’s place. It’s actually not that far from here, just one train ride.”

You chuckled, shaking your head knowingly.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you agreed, “But, uhm… I’ll just meet you there?”

Kuroo nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just meet you there.”

You didn’t see Kuroo the rest of that week.

You weren’t sure what it was – he wasn’t ignoring you, he replied to your text messages and answered your calls.

But he hadn’t once asked you to come over. And after what happened that night, you were scared to ask him to come over.

The night of Kenma’s party came, and you entered to find way more people than you had expected. You didn’t recognize more than half of the people there, but relief washed over you when Yaku threw an arm around your shoulder.

You didn’t see Kuroo right away when you arrived, but you were too distracted at the joy from seeing some of your old classmates.

You were half way through a game of beer pong with Lev as your partner before Kuroo was able to make an appearance.

He made his rounds, saying his greetings to everyone before stopping at you, giving you a friendly one armed hug.

You didn’t want to admit that you were a bit sad at the generic greeting.

Was it because maybe… you want…. mor –

“Y/N! Shoot the damn ping pong ball,” Lev exclaimed, and you were shook out of your reverie. 

Kuroo excused himself, saying he was going to the kitchen to make himself a drink, but you were too focused on winning your game to notice.

Before you knew it, you lost three to two against Kenma and Yamamoto, cursing at Lev for forcing you to carry the team on your back.

By this point, the alcohol had spread all through your system. You were still able to walk straight, but with considerable effort. The words that came out of your mouth were just a little slurred, and you were kind of having a hard time controlling the volume of your voice.

“Where’s Kuroo?” you asked Yaku, who instantly shot a hand up to rub his ear.

“Jesus, woman, you don’t have to yell, I am /right here,” he grumbled, but he still let you sling an arm around his shoulders for support. “I thought he went into the kitchen to get some drinks?”

That’s right, he said that. But that was hours ago. Where could he be?

You stagger away from Yaku, pushing your way past unfamiliar bodies to get to the kitchen.

The first thing you saw when you tripped into the kitchen was Kuroo, dressed in a fitted black shirt and blue jeans, looking every bit the Greek God he was as he leaned against the counter. His arms were crossed atop his broad chest, a drink in one hand.

He was talking to someone, and you thought you recognized the long black hair that flowed from the back of their head, but were too distracted studying the veins that protruded from Kuroo’s forearms.

You opened your mouth to call out to him when the person in front of him stepped up, pressing their body into his. She uncrossed his arms and snaked two long arms around his neck.

You recognized her in that instant.

It was his ex from high school.

Looking down, you were surprised to see your clothes dry, because it felt like someone poured a bucket of ice water directly on top of your head.

“Be careful,” Eri’s words echoed in your head for the ten millionth time.

Yet here you were

In the same exact place you were a little over three years ago.

You scoffed at yourself.

Well, there’s nothing else for you here now, is there?

You shoot Yaku and Kenma a quick text in a group chat to let them know you were leaving.

The air outside was cold, your breath coming out in puffs. You wrapped your jacket around a little tighter, cursing yourself silently for not wearing a scarf cause it’ll ‘ruin the outfit.’

“Hey, the party’s that way.”

The sudden voice behind you nearly made you jump ten feet in the air.

“Jesus, you really are like a fucking cat.”

Kuroo chuckled.

For some reason, the sound made you angry. You kept walking, following the path of dimmed street lights that led you to the train station.

“Yeah, but home’s this way.”

His heavy footsteps trailed behind you.

“Great, I was getting tired of the party anyway.”

“What are you doing here?” You finally turned your head to him and asked.

Your voice was surprisingly clear and even, despite the unsteadiness of the ground beneath you.

“What do you mean? I’m walking you home.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s late, and you’re my friend.”

‘Friend’. The word made you wince, even though you were the one that drilled the idea into his head.

“I saw you talking to your ex,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and turning the other direction.

You could practically feel his smirk.

“Oya? Is that jealousy I’m hearing in those words?”

You felt your face get hot.

“Of course not!”

- “I thought we were just friends?”

“Will you shut up for once in your life, idiot!”

He wanted to tease you some more, but was stopped by the pensive look on your face.

“Why would you leave the girl that broke your heart behind just to walk me home?”

Kuroo looked at you with a confused expression.

“Girl that broke my heart?”

You nodded. “When I asked you about her, you said she was a big mistake.”

Kuroo stopped walking. You turned your head back to look at him curiously when he doubled over in a full bellied laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?!” You asked incredulously, giving him a glare from where you stood.

“You... you think she’s the one that broke my heart?”

Kuroo wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“Wow. That was a good one.”

“What the hell are you going on about, Kuroo?”

The jovial look on Kuroo’s face slowly faded, the entertained smile on his face shrinking his lips into a thin line.

“Y/N, she didn’t break my heart.”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“You want to know why I said she was a big mistake?” Kuroo took a step towards you, “It was because of her that I lost you.”

Your jaw dropped.

Kuroo ran his fingers through his hair, ruining the perfectly waxed locks that he had spent thirty minutes styling.

“Please don’t run away when I tell you this.”

You couldn’t move your feet even if you wanted to.

“The only reason I ever brought her up to you in the first place was because I wanted to see your reaction. I wanted to know if you would get jealous. But without hesitation, you told me that I should just go ahead and date her, and you know dumb young men and their pride... then... it just... snowballed into something I didn’t even...”

Kuroo couldn’t finish his sentence.

Your vision begins to shake.

“But... but I confessed to you!”

“Yeah, then you slammed the door in my face and stopped talking to me!”

You couldn’t deny that.

“Do you have any idea how confusing that was for a teenage boy? I had no idea what the hell was going on, one day, I blinked and I was stuck with a girl I didn’t love while I watched my best friend smile and laugh and walk passed me like I never even existed.”

You swallowed the guilty lump that was caught in your throat.

“All I knew was that you weren’t around anymore; you weren’t there to make me laugh with your dumb jokes, you weren’t coming over and leaving your presence all over my room, nothing, it was all gone, and it all felt so fucked up. Being without you felt so fucked up.” 

Had Kuroo always felt this way? Were you really so busy running away from him that you couldn’t even see that he was hurting too?

“Now the universe or the gods or whatever brought me back to you, and it’s like everything makes sense again, and fuck, all I want to do is just show you how much I’ve missed you, how much I care, how much I love you.”

You gasped, and you were waiting for Kuroo to try and take those words back, but the resolve was painted in his eyes.

“But all you do is just keep me at arms length. You wanted to be just friends when I wanted everything.”

You choked back a sob, tears were now steadily streaming down your face.

Kuroo closed the space between you, wrapping one arm around your waist while bring his other head to wipe at your tears with the pad of his thumb.

 “She wasn’t the girl that broke my heart. You were.”

He moved to place his fingers on your chin, tilting your head up to force you to look at his eyes.

He wanted you to see that he meant every single word.

“If this is all you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it. I’ll break my own heart. Every day, over and over again, if that’s what it takes to be with you.”

His voice was in a whisper now, bringing his lips to kiss both sides of your cheeks.

“Because I love you.”

He brought his hands to cup for your face before pulling you in for a kiss.

This wasn’t anything like you’ve ever experienced before.

Every time his tongue brushed against yours, you felt all the love adoration he was trying to convey in this one physical act, hoping he could transfer it all into your lips.

It felt like time stopped just for the two of you, to have this moment in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in the orange glow of the street light that hung above you.

He pulled away finally, resting his forehead on yours for just a second before he engulfed you with his arms.

His head rested on top of yours, feeling the vibrations as he spoke.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said nervously. “Do you want something more?”

You wiggle out of his grip just so you can move your hands up to caress his cheek.

“Tetsuro... I love you so much.”

Later that night, in the safety of your room and away from Eri’s judgmental eyes at the two of you stumbling in and giggling through the door, you trace small circles on Kuroo’s chest with your fingers while Kuroo had an arm wrapped around you tightly.

“Hey, Tetsu,” you broke the silence with a whisper, “What if I end up going to grad school that was... further away?”

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. You were never going to change.

Not like he would ever want you to.

“Y/N... we didn’t talk for three years, and not once did I stop thinking about you. A little distance isn’t going to get rid of me.”

You try to bury your face in embarrassment.

If he had to spend every day of the rest of his life reassuring you that he’ll be by your side no matter what, well - that’s just too easy.

You find yourself holding onto him a little bit tighter, making a silent vow that never again were you going to push away Kuroo Tetsuro.

[blitzturtles]

Title: Guilt

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (set after Golden Wind, given Jolyne's age.)

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, (Platonic) Jotaro & Jolyne, (Platonic) Kakyoin & Jolyne

Summary: Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

Notes: Involves emergency surgery, chronic pain, preteen!Jolyne, PTSD, disabled Kakyoin, and near death experiences.

-

Here's the thing: Jolyne hates him. It's not a secret, and it's definitely not something that she bothers to hide from him. Jotaro keeps swearing that she'll come around. Says she's just stubborn (like her father is, Kakyoin sometimes thinks with far too much affection for a man that regularly drives him up the wall). There's also the fact that she's a preteen, and kids are apparently just like that at her age.

Here's the thing: Kakyoin would hate him, too. If he were in her situation. He's petty on a good day, and a right bastard on any other. He can't imagine being in her situation. With divorced parents who, while amicable, are both ridiculously successful and constantly busy. And then waltzed in Kakyoin, right in the middle of it. Though 'waltz' is a bit of a stretch. He doesn't do anything like that with his plated spine and braced legs, but none of that matters. The real point is that he gets it.

He does his best to never push more than he has to. For the most part, he lets Jolyne do her own thing, because she's a Kujo and a Joestar. She's going to do what she wants anyways. His opinion be damned, though he does try to reason with her. Hell, he's given into bribing every once in a while. (Sometimes the means don't matter when father and daughter are both happy at the end of the day.)

In short: Jolyne hates him, and Kakyoin understands.

______

Here's the thing: Jolyne finds Kakyoin to be a nuisance. An interference. One more complication to an already complicated life, and she's only eleven. She wants her parents to get over their bullshit (language!) and figure out how to make things work. She wants Kakyoin to go away, but that doesn't mean she wants him dead. Or injured. Even if she did wish him off the end of a pier that one time. Still.

They've admittedly grown to be more friendly over time. She talks to him now, which is an improvement to the chronic cold shoulder she gave him before. Sometimes she even asks him for help, because her dad can be surprisingly useless when it comes to school work (weren't you in school when I was little?) He always seems happy to help, and he never gets as frustrated as her dad.

So maybe she doesn't hate him, but she definitely wants him to go away.

______

Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

He doesn't need to know-- specifically-- what went wrong to know that he's dying. The moment the pain goes from barely tolerable to utterly agonizing is about when his brain lets him know that he's operating on borrowed time.

Kakyoin could have used that warning approximately five minutes ago. Before the pain. Before he found himself in front of Jolyne.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, hopes the words come out audible enough for her to understand.

There are tears welling up in her eyes, and they fall soon enough. God, he's made Jolyne cry. She's so young. So unprepared. And she looks so much like Jotaro. With panic stricken eyes and fingers that grasp for something to do. Some way to fix this. It makes his chest ache beyond the twisting and shearing that his insides are already doing.

(She looks exactly like Jotaro, in the hospital after the Foundation managed to retrieve them. The way her hands fumble in the air is so much like how Jotaro had reached out desperately, trying to hold onto Kakyoin, in case those had been his last moments. Like father, like daughter, Kakyoin thinks without humor.)

His knees hit the ground first, and that shoots pain up his legs and along his hips. The rest of it ricochets and dies somewhere midway up his spine. It's a momentary distraction away from the agony that is his middle. He reaches with his fingers to press against his stomach, half expecting them to sink inward (into nothingness. There's nothing. Dio punched a hole right through him, and he's going to die.)

Jolyne is yelling. His name at first, then for her father. Again, he's reminded of the day he died. Maybe it's all been a dream. He's waking up now and the end is pressing down on him. The light will follow soon. He knows; he's seen it before.

"Please!" Jolyne begs him, "I'm sorry!"

He is, too. It's the last thing he thinks before his eyes slide shut and the darkness grabs at him greedily.

______

There's shouting and bright lights and something covering his face. He can't make out anything with his vision so blurry, but he thinks he hears Jotaro's angry voice booming what could be an entire room away.

"If you fucking put a finger on him that isn't necessary to keep him alive. I'll fuck-"

"Dad!"

Jotaro inhales sharply but nods to the surgeon one, final time, "His team is on their way. Not a goddamn finger."

______

The Speedwagon Foundation has several doctors that Kakyoin sees on a semi-regular basis. Each is a specialist in their own right, and they're the only reason Kakyoin ever made it home from Egypt. They're also the only ones that regularly work on updating all the augmented parts and maintaining the damaged remains of Kakyoin's organs. They know him inside and out. Quite literally.

The team makes it to the hospital long before Kakyoin comes out of emergency surgery, which means the whole process is extended significantly. The upside (if it could be called that) is that Kakyoin doesn't have to be put under again. The downside is that it means they'll be waiting awhile.

Jotaro does his best to be strong for Jolyne. It's his job as a parent to keep a calm façade and push his emotions to the side. She needs someone to be her reassurance.

He fails miserably.

______

The head of the Foundation team emerges some hours later, looking a little worse for wear. The stoicism past that does little for Jotaro's nerves. It tells him nothing of what to expect.

"Well?"

"He's stable," the doctor answers. "We had to take out several inches of colon this time. If I had to guess, he probably believed himself to be having a flare. He adjusted to the pain until he became necrotic." His expression shifts into an unpleased frown, "He also has two ulcers. Has he changed his diet? Or experienced any new stressors?"

Jolyne's lip quivered as she processed the doctor's words. She thought over every time she and Kakyoin had fought in recent history. Most of it being her yelling at him.

Jotaro's focus remains fixated on the doctor, "What the hell kind of pain is he still having?"

The doctor-- one Jotaro recognizes from previous visits but can't recall the name of-- sighs, "Kakyoin will only allow us to do so much to help manage his pain. I'm not his specialist in that regard, but it's at his request that he's kept on very little in terms of medication."

Jotaro knows that. He knows that Kakyoin doesn't like what stronger pain meds do to his head, but how out of control is his pain that he didn't notice that he was dying? That his body has been rotting from the inside out for an unknown amount of time?

Jolyne shifts further behind him, drawing his attention to her. It's the only thing that spares the doctor whatever response Jotaro might have otherwise formed. He turns to look at Jolyne and is startled by the tears already trailing down her round cheeks. Realization hits him then.

She's eleven, and he's an idiot.

"Hey, hey. Enough with that. He's going to be okay," Jotaro says quickly. He should have- called her mother or his mother or literally anyone. This isn't a conversation she needed to be privy to.

"It's me," Jolyne chokes the words out. Her thin arms wrap tight around her middle, and she looks close to collapsing on the ground.

Jotaro, admittedly, has no idea what she's talking about, "What's you?"

"The stress!" She practically wails.

Jotaro sighs and moves to wrap his arms around Jolyne. He tugs her in against his chest. "That- that's not the kind of stress the doctor is talking about," he glances over his shoulder to see that the man had already dismissed himself. Smart guy.

"I'm always mean to him!"

Jotaro wants to laugh. Not at all because he thinks her words-- or her suffering-- are funny, but because the whole situation feels unreal. He cards his fingers through her hair instead. It's all the comfort he feels like he can offer in a situation like this. With his own resolve teetering on the edge.

"Takes a lot more than that to take out Noriaki," he's lying through his teeth. The whole new family thing might damn well be enough stress, but he's never going to let Jolyne think this is her fault. It's not. Kakyoin is capable of making his own decisions, and being part of their family is one of them.

Jolyne crumbles against him despite the gentle words, so he scoops her up and holds her against his chest. Even at eleven, she's nothing compared to his size. He finds a nearby seat to settle into and lets her cry while he whispers promises he can't be sure he'll be able to keep. Eventually he tries distracting her with facts about dolphins, and that either has some effect, or she passes out from exhaustion. Either way, he's relieved when she snores against his neck.

______

Kakyoin comes to the waking world in a haze. His head aches and his middle feels a lot like it might have been ripped open again. He hopes that whatever happened had been a little more civil than that.

It doesn't take him long to place himself in the hospital. That's good. He isn't dead, and he's not immediately at risk of falling into enemy hands. The beeping to his left is annoying, and he can't see well enough to make anything out on the monitors around him. His vision tends to be the last thing to recover when he's been knocked out for a while. Still, he turns his head to continue to take in what he can make out.

He stops short when he sees two people in chairs on his right side, closer to the door. The familiar hat catches his attention immediately, not that he needs to be able to see at one hundred percent (or his version of it) to know that the man is none other than Jotaro. His size will always give him away before anything else.

Jotaro's head is bowed in a way that indicates he's likely asleep. He's undoubtedly been here awhile. Jolyne sits beside him with her head pressed against her father's bicep. Star Platinum is out and wrapped around both of them. He lifts his hand from Jotaro a moment to wave at him brightly, which is enough to disturb his user's sleep.

"Mm?" Jotaro grunts. He opens his eyes and sucks in a breath. He takes a moment to compose himself, which is fine. Kakyoin thinks he probably looks worse than he feels, thanks to the drugs. He would make a joke about it, but moving still hurts.

"Good to see you awake. How're you feeling?" Jotaro asks. He doesn't move from his spot, if only to avoid waking up Jolyne, but that intense gaze is evaluating all the same.

Kakyoin gives a noncommittal answer, and Jotaro snorts, "That's what I thought you'd say. Good thing we have this." He reaches for the little controller on the side of Kakyoin's bed. He presses the red button before Kakyoin can protest.

The glare he shoots Jotaro is relatively short-lived, and it's hard to be mad when Jotaro looks so damn triumphant, even if it's about something that Kakyoin has complicated feelings about. He decides to let him have this one, considering the fact that he's pretty sure he gave them all one nightmarish scare.

"I'm sorry," he says after a while, head lulling back against the pillows. His red hair spreads out all around. It's longer now than it ever has been, but he hasn't felt the need to cut it beyond a simple trim in years. It doesn't matter, but it gives himself something to focus on rather than the gnawing guilt.

"Don't be."

"I- god, I never meant-"

"Kakyoin."

"If I had known, I would have left the room or-"

"Kak-"

"She was so afraid. And she-"

"Noriaki," Jotaro snaps more than says the name, but his eyes are soft. "You aren't the only one that made her cry in the last few hours, so you're not special." That's not true. Kakyoin is incredibly special, but he needs to make some kind of light-hearted comment before he starts crying. Nobody needs to see that.

"Still," Kakyoin mumbles, but he doesn't continue.

Jotaro reaches out with Star, who clasps his large hand over one of Kakyoin's. He wants to lean forward himself, but he doesn't want to wake Jolyne up. Not yet.

Kakyoin turns his palm up to tangle his fingers together with Star's. He brushes his thumb over the stand's, knowing Jotaro can feel it reflected on his skin.

"I really thought it was a flare," he says after a while, because he feels like he owes some sort of explanation after everything.

"Nori, I really can't tell you how much I don't give a damn about that," Jotaro frowns at his own words, "No, I mean- I care, but- fuck." He scrubs his hand over his face a few times before trying again, "You don't have to feel guilty for this shit, okay? I should have noticed you were in pain."

Kakyoin shakes his head. He squeezes Star's hand to make sure Jotaro's listening when he speaks, "It's not your fault. I deal with this pain all the time. It just- at first it felt like a flare, but I guess I got used to it." And every time the pain worsened, he acclimated until it had nearly killed him.

Jotaro doesn’t get a chance to respond before Jolyne is rustling against him. She opens her eyes a crack and reaches up to wipe at them with her fists. “Dad?”

“Right here,” Jotaro grunts in response. He squeezes her shoulder gently, then retracts his arm to give her space to stretch out. “Kakyoin is awake.”

He watches the fog clear from her eyes. They widen as she processes his words, and her attention immediately turns to the redhead, who waves meekly at her.

“Jolyne, I’m- oof!”

Star quickly gets his hands around Jolyne’s waist, suspending her in the air enough to keep her weight from falling too heavily onto Kakyoin. He lets her down carefully, and the youngest Kujo looks sheepish for her overreaction.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Kakyoin says, curling an arm around her loosely in return. He hadn’t expected to be nearly tackled upon awakening. That went doubly so when considering Jolyne as a factor. She’s never hugged him before. Trauma is funny in that way; something he knows from first hand experience.

Jotaro steps up behind her and offers a small smile to Kakyoin, “We’re glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah!” Jolyne echoes, “You scared the shit out of us!”

“Jolyne,” Jotaro’s voice is gruff. An attempt at a warning that falls short. The way his lips pull further upward is a dead giveaway that he isn’t particularly upset by her language usage.

“It’s true!”

“Good grief.”

Kakyoin snorts at the father-daughter duo, relieved to see the two smiling again. Already bickering as per usual. There’s too much snark trapped in the Joestar bloodline, and it always amplifies whenever there’s more than one of them in a room. He’d know, having been on the road with Joseph and Jotaro in the past.

Somehow the back and forth settles into Jolyne rambling about dolphins. She regurgitates facts that-- for the most part-- Kakyoin already knows, but he feigns shock and awe at all the right places to keep her spirit up. It’s more healing to watch her babble emphatically than it is lying around in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. It eases some of the guilt, makes him feel lighter.

Eventually, Jotaro whiskers her out the door. Kakyoin catches sight of Holly, which must mean that Marina is tied up. Holly doesn’t come in, likely at her son’s behest. The woman is a mother through and through, and she can be a bit overwhelming at times. Better to focus all that maternal energy on Jolyne for now.

“You look tired,” Jotaro says when the door clicks shut behind the two. He takes his spot back next to Kakyoin’s bed, pulling his chair as close as he can. His knees grind against the railing of the bed a bit, but the distance allows him to lean forward and get a good look at his partner.

“I could say the same about you,” Kakyoin points out with a raised brow. He still can’t pick up his head for more than a few seconds at a time, and his vision remains fuzzy around the edges; a likely side effect of being drugged to the gills, but he isn’t blind. He can see the bags collecting under Jotaro’s eyes. Exhaustion-- emotional as much as it is physical-- already weighing his shoulders down.

Jotaro snorts an unamused sound, “I’m not the one that just had emergency surgery.”

Kakyoin winces at the reminder. “I’m-”

“If you finish that statement, I’m going to give you a reason to be sorry,” he isn’t. Jotaro won’t hurt him, but the words make Kakyoin close his mouth anyways. For a second.

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?”

Jotaro stares him down for a solid thirty seconds, expecting him to back down. When he doesn’t, the man pushes himself to his feet with an exasperated sigh. “Good grief, c’mere,” his fingers hook under Kakyoin’s chin, and he leans down to press their lips together.

As far as life affirming kisses go, it’s one of Jotaro’s more gentle ones, but Kakyoin feels the thrill of it chasing down his spine anyways.

“I love you,” Kakyoin murmurs as they break apart. He wants to add an apology to the end, but he bites his lip and keeps it to himself for now. He’ll find a way to make it up to Jotaro and Jolyne later.

“Love you, too, Tenmei.”

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hi! i loved your iwaoi fic so much!! if you’re still taking requests, i would love to see more iwaoi!! idc who’s sick but emeto is a yes :) no pressure and thank you! <33

Hi! I hope this is to your liking :)

I can’t promise that I’ll alway respond to requests this quickly or that they’ll always be 1000+ words. I’ve just been in the writing mood recently!!

Usually I hc Oikawa as super super overly-doting as a caretaker, but I think when it comes to Iwa’s migraines, he is so used to them (unfortunately) that he’s just like. “Okay this is what I gotta do.” If that makes sense?

Migraine: an IwaOi sick fic

Pair: sick Iwa, caretaker Oikawa

Word Count: 2,234

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slightly ooc Iwa

——————————————————————

Iwaizumi leaned against the wall of the elevator lethargically. He held the strap of his bag loosely as it leaned against his leg, suddenly too heavy to keep on across his shoulder. Why in the hell he and Oikawa chose to live on the 10th floor was beyond him. He was regretting the decision as each beep of the passing floors sent sharp, stabbing pains through his skull. The prospect of his bed called to him enticingly.

It had been a terrible day.

He woke up late and ran into someone on his way to class, spilling his coffee all over his notes. Then in each one of his classes, he found out that he did the homework for the next class instead of today’s, so when he was called on, he didn’t know any of the answers and each one of his teachers scolded him for not doing the readings.

During his lab, some dude passed out when they were practicing first aid assessment on a dummy who cut open his leg. (Apparently even fake blood was too much for the guy). Which wouldn’t bother Iwa usually, but when the kid fell, he knocked over the iodine and got it all over Iwa’s arm (which was now stained brown).

Then, during his clinicals, he was observing one of the trainers with rehab for a patient who only recently recovered from her shoulder surgery enough to start physical therapy. All he needed to do was watch so he could take notes on different types of treatment plans for shoulders. He was actually pretty relieved after such a rough day.

The universe was out to screw him apparently because the pain was a bit too much for the poor girl and she ended up throwing up down Iwa’s chest.

To top it all off, when he was writing notes for one of the certified trainers a little later, black spots started popping in and out of his vision and his upper arms started tingling. Anxiety immediately settled in his chest. Of course; the only way to end such a terrible day was with a migraine. He had at most thirty minutes from the start of the tingling to get home and take his meds before it became too late.

And of course that didn’t happen.

His notes took longer to finish because of the black spots interrupting his typing and the increasing difficulty he had starting at the blue light of his computer. Then his usual train route was under construction so they took a detour.

Now, here he was, an hour later, standing in the elevator, hating his very existence as the pulsing behind his eyes increased and nausea made his stomach churn.

Finally the doors to his floor opened and he stumbled forward, fighting his vertigo towards his apartment. The hall lights blinded him.

His fingers fumbled with the keys as he leaned against the door and when he finally got the door open, he all but fell inside. He dumped his stuff messily by the door (Oikawa would yell at him later for that) and made a beeline for his bedroom.

Iwaizumi could have cried when he finally got to his room. He didn’t bother with the lights and collapsed onto his bed. His head pounded relentlessly. He curled into a ball and whimpered.

“Iwa-chan? That you?” Oikawa’s bubbly voice from the hall cut through his brain like a knife and he brought his knees even closer.

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” his voice was closer now. He was most likely standing in the doorway, a hand placed on his cocked hip.

“Migraine,” Iwaizumi moaned. Oikawa was quiet.

“Did you take your meds?” he whispered eventually. Iwaizumi was hella grateful for their life long friendship because Oikawa dealt with this before and knew exactly how to make Iwa more comfortable. Including toning down his usual obnoxious tone.

“Too late,” Iwa responded weakly.

“Tch. That’s not true and you know it,” Oikawa chided softly. Iwaizumi heard him moving around in the room before he felt the bed dip.

“Here. They might not prevent it from happening anymore, but you know as well as I do that it might lessen the symptoms,” he heard Oikawa much closer this time. He groaned in response but sat up.

He clenched in eyes shut to fight off the dizziness before prying them open again to look at Oikawa in front of him. He was holding the water bottle from Iwaizumi’s bedside table and his migraine meds. The look on his face resembled a chastising mother.

“I don’t know if they will,” Iwa said, “the aura started over an hour ago.” He took them anyway.

“You didn’t have anything with you?” He shook his head and winced at the motion.

“What’s on your arm?!” Oikawa screeched and Iwaizumi hissed when it sent sharp pains through his skull.

“Sorry, sorry I’m sorry,” the bastard whispered.

“Just iodine,” Iwa responded and looked down at the brown stains on his arm.

“Oh.”

It was quiet again then and Iwaizumi settled back in bed.

“Wait, do you want to change?” Oikawa asked and stood up. He moved towards the dresser before waiting for a response.

“I want to sleep,” Iwa grumbled, getting increasingly more annoyed. He knew Oikawa was trying to help, but he hasn’t had a migraine this bad in a hot minute and the swirling in his stomach was only getting worse. Throwing up always made it worse, so he wanted to try and avoid that if he could.

“Sit up,” Oikawa said and Iwa would smack him if he had the energy.

“Oikawa, please,” he moaned again. He sat up anyway, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.

Oikawa pulled his shirt gently over his head and replaced it with a soft sweatshirt. It smelled like Oikawa and Iwa felt comforted despite himself. Next his jeans were pulled off almost clinically, as if he would break if Oikawa went too fast or pulled too hard.

Oikawa helped him into a pair of basketball shorts and then finally allowed him to lie down.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t ever say it out loud because it would give Oikawa too big of a head if he knew changing out of his school clothes made him feel just the slightest bit better. His jeans had been adding to the sensory overload.

“We were supposed to meet up with the guys tonight. Want me to cancel?” Oikawa asked, scratching Iwa’s head gently with perfectly manicured nails. It gave him a temporary relief from the pulsing that threatened to crush his head.

“No. You go,” he slurred, falling asleep.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa hummed and continued running his hand through Iwa’s hair. It didn’t stop the pain, but it diminished it enough that eventually, he fell asleep.

***

Iwaizumi woke up with a strangled breath when pain exploded through his skull and down the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, staring into the dark room trying to clear his blurry vision.

This wasn’t right. No, sleep was supposed to make him feel better, but an intense pain covered his entire head. It felt like someone was squishing his brain in between their hands. Why why why.

Suddenly he was nauseatingly dizzy and he realized he was panting, depriving his already struggling brain of precious oxygen. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to calm down his breathing.

His body didn’t want to give him a break though because as soon as the world righted itself again, his stomach contents swirled sickeningly in his gut. He tried to ride out the nausea. He didn’t want to throw up. That would make the pounding worse. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned and he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

In a vain attempt to stay in bed, he thought to try and call Oikawa into the room only to put together that the roaring sound that was hammering nails into his skull was the shower. So he was on his own. He needed to make it to the bathroom. Needed to make it to Oikawa.

With heavy limbs, he forced himself to sit up and almost lost it. He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It pounded in his skull. He swallowed it down and slowly made his way out of bed.

By the time he made it to the bathroom, he almost lost it three times and the pain in his head was unbearable. His eyes stung with tears and he pounded on the door before throwing it open and tumbling into the room. He collided with Oikawa who squawked loudly, painfully. Iwaizumi ignored him and collapsed in front of the toilet.

As soon as he moved his hand away from his mouth, he heaved once and vomit poured from his mouth. It burned the back of his throat and his chest. The torture stopped just long enough for him to catch his breath before he lurched forward with another gag and threw up again. His chest was on fire and the lights in the bathroom seared into his brain and he really just wanted everything to stop.

The sound of the lights clicking off registered through his haze somehow and he opened his eyes (when he closed them, he wasn’t sure). Then, a gentle hand was on his back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan. It’s a pretty bad one this time, huh?” Oikawa said tenderly from beside him. He turned his head slowly and found himself face to face with his best friend. He was wearing pajamas, so he must have gone to change at some point since Iwa entered the bathroom.

Oikawa smiled sympathetically and something in Iwaizumi cracked. Suddenly, the flood gates were open and he found himself launching himself into Oikawa’s chest. Thin arms wrapped around his back as he sobbed.

“It h-hurts s-so b-bad,” he weeped.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, I wish it didn’t.” Oikawa buried his face in Iwa’s hair.

“You need to calm down though. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched again and he tore himself away from Oikawa’s arms to wretch once again.

The nausea and pain made him dizzy. He was having trouble keeping himself upright, but thankfully, Oikawa placed a hand on his forehead to keep him from banging it on the toilet seat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Oikawa soothed as Iwa stared into the toilet. His stomach still turned dangerously but he was on the verge of collapse. The tightness in his head only got worse and he really wanted to cut his own head off. He cursed his brain for being messed up and causing him such pain.

He started heaving again, but nothing was coming up and it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hajime, breathe,” Oikawa commanded quietly, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It did nothing though. His stomach kept rolling and turning thanks to his stupid stupid head.

Finally, the back of his throat gurgled and a wet hiccup brought up bile and the rest of his lunch. He coughed and sputtered into the toilet and gasped for breath. Maybe it was over.

A minute or two after the episode ended, Oikawa spoke again.

“Ya think you’re done?” He spoke so softly and so tenderly it made Iwa’s heart soft. He nodded.

Oikawa helped him lean back against the wall and a second later, handed him some water and his toothbrush. He lazily rinsed his mouth and brushed the nastiness away before spitting in the toilet. Oikawa flushed it and turned to help him up.

Once he was standing, the pain magnified tenfold and his knees buckled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” he mumbled and Oikawa caught him before he could fall.

“Hey, no. Not allowed,” he said and ran a wet wash rag over Iwa’s face (where did he get that?)

“Okay,” Iwa slurred, “not this time.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chuckled. Together, they made it back to Iwa’s bedroom. Oikawa helped him under his covers and kissed his forehead.

“My poor Iwa-chan,” he sighed and scratched at Iwa’s head again.

“Stay here?” he asked pathetically. Oikawa blinked at him.

“Of course. I’ve already called the guys and told them we weren’t coming,” he said. He walked around the side of the bed and sat against the headboard, nestled beside Iwaizumi. Iwa turned and buried himself in the setter’s stomach and immediately, Oikawa’s hand was running through his hair. He sighed contentedly. This was by far one of his favorite positions.

“Go to sleep, Iwa-chan. Hopefully your migraine will be gone in the morning.”

These migraines really knocked him out. They stripped him of his usual personality and left him a sniveling, pathetic, clingy, mess. But he was a mess Oikawa was familiar with and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful for that. Oikawa knew what he meant when he couldn’t use as many words as he’d like. He knew how to make him comfortable, what foods he could tolerate and how to comfort him. There was no one else that Iwaizumi would ever want around when he got migraines. Hell, there was no one else Iwaizumi wanted around at all. As long as Oikawa was there, he’d be fine.

[ssajj]

Alright

You forget to take care of yourself while battling through medical school. Spencer tries to help. 1.6k, f!reader

Warnings: mentions of poor self care, very vague description of fainting.

A/N: literally wrote this in an hour, so I hope it's okay lol

"You're still up?" Spencer asks, opening the door to your shared apartment. 

You rise onto your feet, ignoring the black dots that spot your vision. "I thought you weren't getting back for another hour or two," you say, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest. 

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "JJ got done with the sheriff earlier than she thought. How come you're still up?"

"Homework," you groan. 

You're in your second year of medical school, and if you're being honest, it's kicking your ass. Most of your studying is done when your boyfriend is at work. He used to try and help, although you put an end to that. He was just so smart, so quick to memorize the material you've been agonizing over, that sometimes it'd send you into a tailspin. You never wanted to tell him that, though. Not when he was being such a wonderful boyfriend. Lately, he's been worrying too much and usually tries to pull you away from your textbooks and notes. It's terribly hypocritical of him. You're both a lot better at taking care of each other than yourselves. 

"It's three in the morning, bub," he chides gently. "Let's go to bed."

Violently, you shake your head. "I have an exam soon!"

"The brain stops working correctly once someone is overtired."

"I know."

"And you're overtired."

You sigh. "I know."

Before you can protest more, he bends a little and sweeps an arm under your knees, using his other arm to wrap around your upper body. You squeal, your arms going around his neck. "When did you get so buff?!"

He laughs, shifting you around so you're settled more comfortably. "I told you, Morgan and JJ keep making me work out with them."

"Remind me to thank them," you say, getting another laugh out of him. It's cliche, you know, but his laugh is your favorite sound in the world. 

It doesn't take him long to carry you to the bedroom. Gently, he deposits you on the bed, kissing you again on the forehead. "I'm going to go clean up your books and then come back, okay? Get ready for bed."

You're asleep before he's even out of the room. When he comes back, he pulls the blankets over your body, changes into pajamas, and crawls in after you, pulling your body against him. 

--

When you wake up, it's to the fire alarm going off. 

"Everything is fine!" Spencer yells from the kitchen. You blink a few times, adjusting to whatever the hell is happening. Even in your sleepy state, everything does not seem fine. 

You get out of bed, putting on your slippers before making your way into the kitchen. There, you can see Spencer batting at a cloud of smoke coming from the stove top. "Spence, what's happening?"

"I burned the eggs," he says, sounding so genuinely upset about it that it confuses you. "I was trying to make you eggs."

You help him clean up the eggs, wincing at just how burnt they are. It's hard to say how Spencer even managed to do that, but you don't mock him for it. He's been worrying about you, so you know he was just trying to make you feel better.

"Come back to bed with me?" You ask, one of his hands in yours. 

He's terrible at saying no to you, so he doesn't try. Instead, he follows you, curling against you once you're in bed. Frankly, he's just glad that you want to sleep. "I love you."

"Love you more."

"Impossible."

--

The next day, he's called away again. You're a little surprised. As chaotic as his schedule is, you usually get him for a few days after a case. 

"Take care of yourself, okay?" You tell him, kissing him softly.

He nods. "You too. Please."

--

"You seem distracted, kid. What's going on?" Morgan asks, sitting next to Spencer on the jet. Even during their debriefing, he only seemed half aware of his surroundings. Morgan didn't understand his brain, not in the intimate way you did, but he had a good idea of how easy it was for Spencer to get lost in his thoughts.

"Hm?" Spencer hums, looking up at Morgan. "Oh. Just thinking about Y/N."

Morgan snorts. "Shocker."

"I'm serious!" Spencer protests. "She's so stressed out about medical school. I'm worried about her not taking care of herself when I'm gone. She just puts an unhealthy amount of pressure on her shoulders."

"That reminds me of someone I know."

Spencer looks confused for a second before catching a look at Morgan's raised eyebrow. "Shut up. I just- I don't know how to help her. I'm gone too often to encourage her to rest, or to put down the textbooks, or tell her that I think she's amazing when I see her doubting her ability."

"She'll be okay," Morgan reassures. "And you'll be able to check in with her once the case is over. For now, though, we need that big brain of yours focused on the case. Okay?"

"Okay."

--

Back at the apartment, you've spread all of your study materials on the floor, having given up on keeping it contained on the coffee table. Your back is aching and you've been on the verge of tears all day. Focusing is difficult, especially since all you want is for your boyfriend to hold you and make everything better. 

But that isn't how you operate, so you take a deep breath and get back to work. By two in the morning, your body feels heavy and your mind feels full. You also forgot to respond to Spencer's nightly text, which just makes a wave of guilt crash into you. It's too late to text him now, so you set a reminder in your phone to text him when you wake up. 

--

This time, Spencer is gone for a week and a half. Four times, you forget to say goodnight to him. Twice, you're so distracted that you don't answer your phone when it rings. Your entire life has become your textbooks, especially after you bomb a pop quiz on Wednesday. That sends you into a downward spiral, one you aren't recovered from by the time your boyfriend comes back. 

"How was the case?" You ask him, ignoring the way your mind feels fuzzy. It's probably been too long since you got a proper night's sleep. 

He's peering at you. "It was okay. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Y/N," he sighs, kneeling in front of you where you're sitting on the couch. He's holding your hands. "Please take a break. When's the last time you've been outside?"

You frown. "You hate going outside."

"I prefer to be indoors, but I understand and respect the benefits of spending time outdoors." He pulls you to your feet. Somehow, you don't stumble. "Come on. Let's go walk around the block."

He grabs your shoes for you, and you have to sit down again to put them on. Once you're outside, you do have to admit that the fresh air feels amazing on your face. 

"You're really quiet today," you say as you walk. 

He nods. "I'm worried about you and I'm not sure how to help."

"You don't need to-"

"Y/N," he interrupts you. "You...you help me all the time. I don't even think you realize how much you help me. You always listen to me when I go off on a topic you probably aren't even interested. And you come up with excellent questions and responses. I feel more comfortable with physical touch than I ever have, because you're always so gentle and kind and respectful of my boundaries. You make me feel good about myself. When something is wrong, all I can think about is how I know seeing you will make me feel better. My mom adores you. But I know you're struggling and I can't-" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "I want to help you the way you help me."

And in a fantastic bit of timing, your vision goes black as you fall to the ground.

--

You wake up in a hospital bed. "Spencer?"

He startles, rising from where he was slumped over in a chair. "How are you feeling? I need to call a nurse. But. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you mumble. "What happened?"

"You fainted. The doctors said you were overly exhausted and suffering from mild dehydration." Spencer's tense all over, his hands flexing at his sides. 

Ah, shit. You fucked up. 

--

After that, you try harder. You let Spencer help you. When he's gone, he sends you reminders on when to start and stop studying, when to go to sleep, and reminders to drink water. They're all things you already know, but someone checking in on you helps you actually follow through, helping you hold yourself responsible. When he's with you, he peppers you with kisses when he knows you need to relax, picking you up and carrying you around the apartment to make you laugh. Since he has a habit of burning food and you hate cooking, you two get a lot of takeout. 

"Hey," you say one day, closing your textbooks and going over to him. "You know how much I love you, right?"

He smiles and buries his face in your hair. "Yeah. And you know I love you too."

Spencer can't fix everything for you, nor can he fix the hell that's med school. But he helps. Knowing he's always here for you helps. 

Being loved helps. 

[gins-potter]

everything will be alright (with you by my side)

@halzekrhodestead​ sent me these requests literally a million years ago and i’m just now getting around to filling them.  sorry about the wait and i hope you enjoy it! yes i know will didn’t do emergency medicine in nyc i just decided to retcon that

Will’s skin practically crawls at the sound of the elegant string music floating out of the ballroom at the top of the stairs.  The music is nice enough he supposes, but Will’s never been able to hear violins and not be reminded of the vibrant, boisterous music his mother had filled their home with when he was a child.  But maybe it’s not the music at all that sets his teeth on edge, but rather the people lining up to enter the gala, who shed their coats to reveal expensive tuxedos and glamorous dresses.  Maybe it’s the glasses of champagne they accept as they step inside, the liquid surely the rarest of vintages and served in undoubtedly crystal flutes.

Beside them, in the tux he’s had since med school, and the tie Connor gave him before they even started dating, Will feels more than a little lackluster.

But, he rationalises to himself, he never did understand the point of hosting a charity event if you were going to blow tens of thousands of dollars just throwing the damn thing.  But he knows the cause is important to his boyfriend, so in a surprisingly un-Will-like fashion, he resists the urge to make a comment about it, and instead pastes a pleasant smile on his face.  Because after all, he’s not here to make waves; he’s here to be a buffer with a pretty face and make the night as painless as possible.

At least that’s the way Will remembers Connor phrasing it.

Speaking of, beside him Connor takes a deep, shuddering breath as they reach the top of the stairs and the wide double door entrance looms ahead.  Pausing at the threshold, Connor slips his hand into Will’s and squeezes gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tracing the back of Will’s hand with his thumb.  “Thanks for being here?”

Will feels his lips twitch up into a genuine smile despite his surroundings, and says, “Yeah well, you promised you’d do that thing with your tongue that I like if I came, so…”

The words surprise a laugh out of Connor, and he shoots Will a grateful look, before squaring his shoulders, as if emboldened by the exchange and leading his boyfriend inside.  Will sighs a little and accepts a glass of champagne, figuring he’s going to need it.

Into the lion’s den they go.

.

The night starts off well enough, all things considered.

Having been away from the whole scene for so long, Connor is almost immediately swarmed by artificially eager socialites who want all the details on what he’s been up to in recent years.  Will watches his boyfriend’s face and knows him well enough to know when he needs to step in and gently shift the subject matter, or when Connor genuinely likes the other person and he can sip his exorbitantly priced champagne and let the conversation wash over him.

His southside accent sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other guest's polished speech but Will plays it to his favour, working the ‘blue-collar boy who put himself through med school’ angle that they lap up like some of their expensive wine.  His father would spit if could see him, and Will hates himself a little bit for doing it, their condescending smiles stoking the embers of that anger.  But all it takes is to see the gratefulness in Connor’s eyes to know it’s worth it, and he stamps out those embers enough that they don’t become a raging inferno.  Besides, by the pressure of a hand on his lower back, Will can tell that Connor knows exactly what he’s doing and will make it well worth his time when they’re back in their apartment.

They even survive the, thankfully brief, exchange with Connor’s father, it being the first time they’ve met in the year that Will and Connor have been together.  It’s polite, and it’s pleasant, and they smile for the benefit of the other guests milling around, but Will doesn’t miss the disapproving glint that enters Cornelius Rhodes’s eyes when Connor introduces him as his boyfriend.  And it doesn’t go unnoticed by him either that Connor introduces him as ‘Will’, but Cornelius manages to call him ‘William’ - something even his own father never calls him - a grand total of six times in the space of their three minute conversation.  

It makes Will wonder which is a bigger affront to Cornelius: that his son is dating a man, or that he’s dating someone who doesn’t come with a trust fund.

But despite it all they manage to survive the few minutes that the encounter lasts for until Cornelius gets pulled away by another guest and they can escape to the other side of the ballroom.  It would have been ideal to avoid him completely, but as a main benefactor of the gala, Cornelius was well and truly in the spotlight, and people would surely talk if the two Rhodes men ignored each other all evening.  That was certainly the reason, Connor mutters to Will as they hightail it out of there, that Cornelius had sought them out; it simply would not do for the Rhodes’ to be talked about for anything other than their roaring financial success.

But all in all the evening is going well.  Connor works the crowd with Will at his side, charming smile firmly in place as he convinces many of the other guests to sign over large swathes of money to the National Alliance on Mental Illness.  Connor chats to friends of his late mother, runs into old classmates from high school, and even gets dragged onto the dance floor by his sister.  And despite his father’s looming presence, Will can tell his boyfriend is actually starting to enjoy himself.

Which is why he feels comfortable enough to leave Connor in the hands of his sister and escape into a hallway off the ballroom when he overhears a young socialite complain to her friend about the darling little yacht her father refuses to buy her.

What’s a mere three million dollars after all?

He just needs to take a breath away from the music and the lights and the people.  But he’s not there for more than a few minutes, when a figure appears at the other end of the hallway, striding towards him.

“Mr Rhodes,” Will says, once he recognises him in the dim lighting.  He straightens, and pushes off the wall, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“William Halstead,” Cornelius says slowly, a dangerous smile on his face.  Something about the way he says Will’s name has the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and his suspicions are confirmed when Cornelius doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.  “William Halstead.  Born to Pat and Shannon Halstead, a construction worker and kindergarten teacher from Canaryville.  One brother named Jay who was first an Army Ranger and is now a detective with the Chicago Police Department.  You went to college out of state, was involved in aid work in Sudan, before studying emergency medicine in New York.  You came back to Chicago on a whim to visit your brother, were briefly accused of murder before later being cleared, and decided to move back permanently when you were offered a position at the Gaffney Chicago Medical Center.”

The champagne flute in Will’s hand groans under his tightening grip, but he manages a guarded smile as he says, “I see you’ve looked me up.”

“Oh, I’ve done more than look you up,” Cornelius says ominously.  “Which is why I know that despite your best efforts you were unable to secure a scholarship, and the two jobs you worked through medical school barely dented your student loans.  So, let’s cut to the chase, William, how much will it take?”

Will blinks, and then laughs uncomfortably, unable, or perhaps unwilling to understand what Cornelius is trying to imply.  “I’m sorry, how much will what take?”

Cornelius exhales sharply, as if perturbed by having to explain himself.  “How much money will it take to get you to walk away from my son and never look back?”

The words cut like a blade through Will’s chest and his next breath comes out strangled and ragged.  “I don’t-”

Cornelius spreads his hands, cutting Will off with ease.  “Look, I’m a reasonable man.  And I can be very generous when I want to be.  Those loans of yours could be taken care of with a single phone call.”

Will seethes at the arrogance of the man before him, and at both the idea of someone being able to clear eight years worth of accumulated debts with half a thought, and at the implication that there was a sum of money large enough to get Will to walk away from Connor.

When he doesn’t answer, Cornelius continues.  “I know about you, William, I know your background, and I know that you and my son come from two very different worlds.  And I know that when I pass on and my son inherits the empire two generations of Rhodes’ men have built, he’ll do so with someone of the correct social standing by his side.  Someone,” he adds, eyeing Will with open disgust.  “Who is able to provide a natural continuation of the Rhodes’ line.”

“So,” Will says, realising that he being a man and a poor kid from Canaryville are equal sins in Cornelius’ eyes.  “It doesn’t matter to you that your son might be miserable as long as he marries someone you deem socially acceptable?”

Cornelius shrugs carelessly.  “I’m sure Connor will be upset for a while, he always was a…. sensitive child.”  His lips pull back, more a bearing of his teeth than a true smile.  “But I’m also sure that he’ll get over it eventually, and come to realise that I’m right.  Hell, he might even thank me for it one day.”

Will wants to tell him that there’s a better chance of hell freezing over than of that happening, but Cornelius has already continued talking.

“So, all that’s left to be settled is the price.  Name it and it’s yours.”

Here, Will has to laugh.  And not just an awkward or polite chuckle, but a real laugh, the first he’s uttered all night.  He laughs, and laughs harder, when Cornelius’s expression becomes pinched.

“Oh, you really thought that because I was still standing here and listening, you were actually going to be able to pay me off?”

Cornelius tries to smile again, but it’s lacking it’s earlier swagger.  “‘Pay off’ is such an ugly term, isn’t it?  I prefer to think of this as a business deal.  One that you would be very stupid to turn down.  So be reasonable, William.”

But Will shrugs, grinning effortlessly.  “No one has ever accused me of being all that smart.  And reasonable?  Me being reasonable is walking away from you right now instead of introducing you to the Canaryville version of a no.”

Will idly cracks the knuckles of his right hand, and feels a dark satisfaction when Cornelius’s gaze drops to the hand still hanging by his side.  But he doesn’t curl that hand into a fist, doesn’t let himself draw back his elbow and let the punch fly, no matter how good it might feel in the moment.  No, instead he just shoves both hands into his suit pockets, shoots Cornelius one more careless grin, and starts to stroll back down the hallway.

“You’re going to regret this, William.”

He almost turns back, but decides it’s not worth it.  Besides, he really doesn’t think he is.

.

Connor is blessedly alone when Will steps back into the ballroom.  He hands his glass, still half full, to a passing server with a nod of thanks and beelines for his boyfriend, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his temple when he gets there.

“Hey,” Connor says, leaning into him.  “Where did you go?”

“Just out for a breather.”  He pauses, then says, “Ran into your father, had an interesting conversation.”

Connor’s eyes darken and he starts to pull away.  “What did he say?”

Will huffs a breath of a laugh and tightens his grip, preventing him from leaving.  “Nothing.  Well, nothing important anyway,” he allows when Connor clearly doesn’t buy it.

He’ll tell him eventually, it’s not the kind of thing he can keep from Connor.  But later, when they’re in the privacy of their home, and there’s no chance of Connor ruining a charity gala named in his mother’s honour by punching his father in front of a couple hundred people.

“Will-”

He drops his head and nuzzles the side of Connor’s face for the briefest of moments.  “Later,” he murmurs, before pressing another feather light kiss to his skin and drawing away again.

Connor doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t try to pull away again, which is answer enough.  

Will grins, his teeth flashing.  “Dance with me?”

Connor seems surprised but nods and takes his hand, leading him out amongst the other swaying couples.  Will is sure Cornelius is out there somewhere, watching them and seething at the sight but in that moment he doesn’t care.  All that matters is Connor’s arm around his waist and his head on his shoulder, and the love they both feel for each other burning bright in their chests.

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟒)

omg! this chapter is a bit shorter than most and it’s lowkey a filler kinda sorta i just wanted to show them hanging out together and show their lives 

next chapter is gonna be the same format but with a lil spice...

warnings: some smut, fluff an’ sweet domesticity :’)

word count: 6.1k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

     You screamed so loud that Steve poked his head out from the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth to check on you in the living room, where you were cooped up on the couch with your iPad, your eyes glued to the screen. 

     “You okay?” Steve asked through a mouthful of toothpaste, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

     He was pleasantly surprised when you turned to face him and you were positively beaming, baring your glistening teeth in a wide smile, your eyes glittering. 

      “I keep getting orders!” you exclaimed, referring to your all new clothing store brand that you had in the works earlier that summer. Recently, it had been taking off just how you wanted. 

     Steve discarded his toothbrush and bounded over to you, making you drop your iPad on the couch as he scooped you up effortlessly, hugging you tight. You squealed with happiness, wrapping your legs around Steve’s waist. He was such a serious guy, it was nice when he made such a grand, intimate gesture like this towards you. He smothered your face and cheeks with kisses, leaving the last smooch on your forehead. 

      “I’m so happy for you, doll,” he grinned, his eyes glimmering just like yours. 

The way Steve’s excitement matched yours just reminded you that he was rooting for you— he was on your side, which felt so rare for you. Steve was a rare treasure in your life, and you still couldn’t wrap your mind around how you’d found him. 

You giggled, giddy with excitement,

     “I’m so glad I have you to celebrate this with.”

     “Who would I be if I wasn’t your hype man?” Steve asked, looking directly into your eyes with a smile on his lips. 

     “Steve, you are literally my best friend,” you grinned, your heart swelling by how taken aback you were with how deeply he expressed his love. “Now time for me to call my other bestie.”

Steve grinned,

     “Does that mean I have to put you down?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, 

     “I mean, if you wanna give it away…”

     “Noted,” Steve rescinded, setting you down on the floor before him where you returned to your favorite place— right under Steve, with him hovering over you and keeping you safe. 

He kissed you sweetly on the lips before leaving you to call Aaliyah on the couch. 

     “Hey best friend,” she answered the phone with a trill.

     “Hi girlie,” you grinned, absolutely shining.

     “Ooh, someone’s in a good mood! What happened?!” Aaliyah straightened herself up in her bed, all ears. 

     “Your girl keeps making sales,” you glanced away from the camera as if it were no big deal to you, only to return with a big grin on your face.

     “Okay work!” Aaliyah practically screeched, jumping out of her bed. “Girl, you need to come back soon so we can get drunk drunk. Like, drunk. Just for you.”

     “I’ll be back, try not to miss me too much.”

     “You seem to be having the time of your life, though, girl. I’m honestly kinda surprised. But like, pleasantly surprised,” Aaliyah commented— if only she knew. 

She still thought you were spending your time in New York with family, she didn’t have a clue about Steve. You didn’t want to have to lie to her, but you knew it was the smart decision for now. Besides, it wasn’t like you were ridden with guilt— if anything, Aaliyah would understand your reasoning. 

     “I know, New York really is where dreams come true,” you noted sarcastically, earning a quiet chuckle from Steve in the kitchen. 

     “Okay, city girl. Just don’t forget where you came from,” Aaliyah smirked playfully. “For real though, I’m so proud of you.”

     “Thank you, my love. I  miss you.”

     “Me too, girl.”

     “So what have you been up to?”

     For a few hours, you and Aaliyah caught up over Facetime. She filled you in on what you’d been missing at home, and how summer and school was going for her, since she was trying to get into med school now. In truth, it wasn’t like there was much to catch up on, since it had only been a week since you’d been apart, you just loved each other that much. You had to hang up when you saw the time, since you had a date with Steve at the museum. You were glad that he seemed to be getting more comfortable taking you to the more public places, even if it meant you both had to be discreet. But that wasn’t hard, you were so comfortable with each other that you didn’t bother much with other people, and others didn’t bother too much with you. You were too preoccupied with each other to even notice much of anything else.

    You still didn’t understand how it wasn’t obvious that Steve was Captain America even when he was in his trusty disguise of glasses and a cap, considering how massive he was. You’d even noticed people staring in a mix of wonderment and desire when you were out with him, because he was quite the specimen. You never really got jealous, but you always found yourself gripping his hand tighter when that happened. Of course, he never paid other people much mind. 

    “You ready?” Steve asked, his back facing you as he heard you come out of the bedroom. 

    “Think so,” you chimed happily. 

     Steve turned around at the sound of your voice and immediately felt his heart drop to his stomach. He paused, unsure of what to even say. You were wearing a cream colored silk mini-dress, a gold plated necklace with earrings to match, along with heels. You were positively dazzling, even beyond your outfit— Steve truly thought you looked good all the time, but when you dressed up, you dressed up. 

     “Wow,” he breathed, truly at a loss for words, his eyes raking up and down your body. He was truly amazed by your presence— just being here made him feel like he was in the presence of a goddess. If you thought you were confused by how you’d won someone like him, you’d be knocked out by Steve’s disbelief. 

     You felt your cheeks grow warm at the way Steve was silently worshipping you. He looked so innocent, standing there wide-eyed in awe. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen every single part of you, as if you didn’t realize that his eyes were on you almost all the time— well, the latter was true. He never got tired of your beauty. You were truly timeless. But eventually, you laughed, shaking your head and stepping forward and taking his hands in your own. 

     “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” you joked with him, reaching in to kiss his lips. 

     “You look incredible. When don’t you?” he smiled, looking you up and down once again. He gestured to your neck, furrowing his brows. “Where’d you get that necklace?”

     “This one?” you looked down, then back up, shrugging. “Think I made it.”

     “Of course you did,” Steve shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Gorgeous and talented. How could I not guess that?”

     “You’re so corny, Steve,” you snorted, pressing your hand against his chest. “I love it.”

He smoothly maneuvered his arm around your waist so you were close to him, leading you out the door.

     “Shall we?” he pulled you close to him. 

      When you got to the museum, you both were glad to see that it wasn’t crowded, but not unnaturally empty. It almost felt like your circumstances were normal, and that felt nice and unique from your usual system. Steve never made it feel like the two of you had to be in hiding, but the illusion that the precautions weren’t so necessary here felt nice. Of course, it was only an illusion. 

       You were both always careful, but you were too enamoured by one another to let the issue of privacy stress you the way it did before. Steve’s previous anxiety surrounding keeping you both safe and secret had improved so much ever since you actually came around and lit up his life. He almost wished he had realized how much of a good thing this was sooner, then he would’ve had you right next to him ages ago. 

        The way Steve held your hand when you stepped out the car and all the way into the museum admittedly had you feeling incredibly special. He had you on his arm, but the way you were shining made it so clear that you were one of a kind, in a league of your own. You just happened to complement each other nicely, even perfectly. That was rare for even the closest of couples, so you were eternally grateful. You matched each other like chocolate and vanilla ice cream, explicitly sweet. You weren’t unaware of the eyes on the both of you as you strode through the museum— hell, together, the two of you looked like Greek gods, one beautiful inside and out, the other gracious, hulking, and strong. You might as well have been reincarnations of Aphrodite and Ares. 

     You had never been in this museum before, it was called MoMa, short for The Museum of Modern Art. Truthfully, you didn’t spend much time in museums back home. You were much more of an outdoors kind of gal, but you enjoyed being in this museum with Steve almost as much as you did day drinking at an outdoor cafe. The museum was undoubtedly fancy and sophisticated, making you feel right at home while you were all dressed up and always, always carrying yourself with poise. 

Steve felt lucky just to be standing beside you, and the two of you enjoyed your time together drifting through the museum, fixating on one work of art from the next, taking your time and staying close together. 

     “Isn’t that you?” Steve joked, pointing to a marble statue of a beautiful woman who actually did look a bit like you. 

     “You’re too charming,” you snickered, squeezing his side. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead, 

      “I know a work of art when I see it.”

You pushed your head up so you could reach his lips, pressing a kiss on his mouth, closing your eyes and shutting out the dim light of the museum for just a second, so you could get lost in him. When you opened your eyes, you and Steve made direct eye contact, gazing in each other’s eyes as if you were the only two in the room. Steve almost seemed to stand completely still, lost in the way your eyes glimmered like the water you spent so much time around back home. You knew you had him right where you wanted, and you gave his arm a squeeze as you bit down on your lip, hiding an impish smile. 

      “Come on,” you nodded towards the exit, gripping his hand and making your way towards the exit.

It was almost like you were lugging Steve behind you, the way he was following your lead like a helpless puppy. You had to fight the urge to cackle at how quickly he melted for you, just from a single kiss. Not only was he touch starved, but he was infatuated with you. That made matters even worse. Steve was a man with honorable impulse control, but when it came to you, looking so beautiful, kissing him so soft and sweet just how he liked, “control” was out of the picture. And now that you were leaving, it was clear what you were both getting yourselves into. 

You got into the car, eagerly settling into the backseat. Steve, on the other hand, rushed into the driver’s seat and was about to start the car when you asked,

      “What are you doing?”

Steve’s head nearly whipped back to look at you, and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

     “We’re gonna leave, right?” 

You just stared at him for a moment, judgment plastered on your face. You blinked,

     “It takes like thirty minutes to get home.”

Steve made a face, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion,

      “You don’t wanna go home?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips,

      “Can you just come to the back?”

He swiftly climbed into the back seat and you chuckled,

     “You’re so silly, old man.” 

     “‘S been a while,” he grunted. 

Your eyes flitted up and down his face, and then met his eyes. 

       “Need you. Now,” was all you said in a voice so quiet that it was like you were telling him a secret.

You made eye contact with Steve once more and he understood, Steve barely even had the chance to speak before you were scrambling on top of him, pressing your lips harshly against his and opening your mouth, Steve following your lead and doing the same, your tongues in each other’s mouths as you kissed. It was less like kissing and more like you were trying to compete to see how long you could hold your breaths, moaning repeatedly into each other’s mouths and only consuming oxygen through heavy pants. It was like you forgot you needed to operate normally, the way you were rubbing frantically against each other and abusing your limited backseat space. Your dress was jammed against your legs because you hadn’t pulled it up properly, and your knees were knocking against the inside of the car.

     “I wanna fuck,” you pulled away from his lips, only for him to pout at the lack of contact, resolving to kiss your neck instead, making your skin burn hot on the space where his lips were. You gasped from the unexpected feeling, Steve sucking at all the right spots on your body. He had you all figured out, from the first moment you got intimate with each other. But you didn’t get distracted from your main objective, pushing him away so you could focus, his chest heaving up and down below you. “Right now.”

Steve raised his brows. His face, already a flushed shade of pink from the abundance of physical proximity, darkened to a deep red. 

     “You… you want me here? Right-right now?”

     Your jaw clenched. Just by looking into your eyes, which had darkened like a stormy, grey sky, Steve could see just how serious you were. You were determined you were to get what you wanted, and who was he to get in the way of your needs? Of course, he wasn’t quite thinking logically, but there wasn’t enough room for logic when you were smothering him like this in the car, no matter how spacious it was. 

You nodded almost solemnly. You were like a cat in heat right now. If a switch had turned on in Steve earlier, then right now, a big red button was being pressed inside of you, only it meant “go.” 

     “Yes. Please don’t make me wait, daddy,” you purred, putting on your best angel face, and something stirred deep inside of Steve when you called him that, when you looked at him like that. 

His voice went soft and he nearly cooed at you,

     “‘M not gonna make you wait… it’s just…”

     “No one’s gonna see us,” you leaned in to kiss him again, and pulled away before he could deepen the kiss the way he wanted to, leaving him to pull desperately at your waist. “We’re parked far away from everyone else, see? And it-it’s dark!”

Steve smirked at your frenzied reply, consisting of one excuse after the other,

      “You really need this right now, hmm?”

      “Don’t get cocky. You need this more than I do,” you bit back snarkily, grinding against his very apparent erection, which throbbed against your center. You bit down on your lip, failing to conceal a devious smirk. “See?”

      “Yeah, I-I see,” Steve groaned, glancing down at where your bodies met in the middle, wishing you would take your dress off now. He regained his composure to ask you this one question. “Why so sudden?”

You growled, eager to get past the niceties of fucking,

      “Because. Now shut up so I can do my job.”

      “Oh wow,” Steve chuckled, raising his brows like he was impressed. “You’re very dedicated to-”

You weren’t kidding.

       “Stop talking,” you said, putting your hand over his mouth. 

      He looked up at you, all the amusement drained from his eyes, replaced by desire and awe. He felt inclined to listen to you, amazed by the new side of you that was coming out all of the sudden. It wasn’t like he always dominated you, and it was obvious that you had Steve wrapped around your finger. But this… this was different.

You kissed him furiously, grinding against him with expertise, making him arch his hips up just to meet you halfway, but you weren’t letting him give in to the pleasure fully yet. You didn’t have time to waste, and yet you had all the time in the world.

You let the tip of your tongue slide against his, then your tongue trailed against his open lips, making him let out a low pitched groan, his eyes half lidded at the soft but prominent sensation. You wanted to make this quick, but every part of you was savoring the moment. It had been a while since you’d done anything so thrilling in public, even if you were sure no one could see you. 

      Steve’s hand snaked its way up your dress, wasting no time. It took him a minute to catch on in the beginning, but now that he had, he was right where you needed him to be. He went to push your underwear to the side and the look on his face was priceless when he realized you weren’t wearing any. He was pleased that you were even more accessible, but at the same time he was shocked. He hadn’t been expecting it. 

      “You aren’t wearing anything under that?” he asked breathlessly, his fingers circling your clit immediately, the pad of another finger dipping into your slit with ease because you were already soaking. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

He started pumping a finger in and out of you, hitting a perfect spot and brushing up against your walls just right. You moaned and rode his fingers, hips thrusting up in the air as you threw your head back. 

     “Baby,” you panted after some time. “Take your pants off.”

You watched as he hurried to follow your commands, his pants and boxers pooling at his knees as he sat there with his dick erect against his stomach, both of you hot and restless. You practically lunged forward, grinding against him while he worked to unzip your dress, pulling it over your head. The whole event was a mess of clothes being flung everywhere, your bodies knocking into each other and the car seats. It was a blur, really, and you remember crying out when you first sunk onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking him smoothly, slowly, as he watched you with his mouth dropped in an o shape and his eyes glazed over. 

     “Fuck,” you whined, taking his length. It was one thing to be beneath him, it was another thing to be on top and be stretched out like never before. It was like a completely different feel and a completely different angle, and still perfect nonetheless. “You feel so good baby, look at me.”

     You forced Steve to look up at you, perking his chin up with your finger. He was shuddering, his thighs shaking each time you sunk down onto him. You were practically riding him into submission, and the thought made you smirk. 

      “You like this?” you cooed. “You like when I ride you?”

He nodded quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. 

     “Say it,” you demanded, inching your hand up his chest and settling your palm around his throat. 

His hips bucked up inadvertently, and he groaned,

     “Y-yes baby, I could fuck you like this forever.”

     “Yeah, I bet you could,” you crooned, letting your finger trail along his face, your nail tickling his cheek. 

     As you got used to taking him, you began to ride him like a pro, the movement of your hips syncing with his effortlessly, bouncing up and down and grinding on him all at once. No matter what you did, the feeling was unbeatable for the both of you, and you couldn’t get enough. On top of that, you had clearly taken charge tonight. Steve was enamoured by you, goddess that you were, and he wanted you on top a lot more now.

     Granted, it was the first time, but he only wished it could’ve happened sooner, because then he could cherish this feeling earlier. You took the lead with such ease, because you knew what you were doing and that was clear. Your sex appeal radiated off of you without you even having to try, and your confidence was just the cherry on top. Steve could tell you were enjoying yourself, shamelessly eating up his submission. You were being greedy, reckless. He wanted more and more. 

      Your movements were graceful and easy, your back arched to get that crucial spot for the two of you, arms wrapped lazily around his neck as you rode him like the perfect wave. He obeyed immediately when you told him to keep his previously wandering hands on your waist, watching in amazement as you led him, the captain. 

     You lowered your head down to his, pressing your forehead against his as you began to moan, and he could tell you were about to come by the way you squeezed around him. When you did, it was like an explosion. You nearly screamed into his ear, but instead bit down on his neck, leaving a bite that was sure to bruise. You kept riding him while you were coming, anyway, telling him to come with you and triggering his own orgasm, letting him fill you up with his cum. For a while, the two of you just sat there, Steve still inside of you, his head knocking against your chest, while you wrapped your arms around him. 

❊

     “I’m putting a looot of trust into you right now, you know that?” you pulled your shirt off, stretching your arms up above your head. 

Steve laughed, shaking his head,

     “No pressure.”

     “I’m absolutely joking,” you leaned forward to give him a kiss while cupping his face, lingering at his lips for a few seconds with a soft smile before you pulled away. “I know it’ll turn out amazing. But I can’t stay still for too long.”

     “It won’t take more than an hour, I promise,” Steve put his pinky out in front of him and you rolled your eyes before interlacing your pinky with his. 

     “As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind.”

     “Okay. Your bra is real pretty, but that has to go, too,” Steve said, gesturing to your pink lace bra.

      “Can you take it off me, please?” you smiled innocently, but Steve just stared you down. 

     “If I do that, you’re gonna try to distract me,” he stood his ground, and you chortled, cupping his face in your hands as you leaned forward, 

     “Steve, I would never. I understand the importance of the artist’s process. Here, I’ll even turn around.”

You turned so your back was facing Steve, your shoulders relaxing when you felt his big hands brushing against your skin, undoing your bra. You felt his bare hands roam up the expanse of your back and rolled your shoulders back into the all encompassing touch. 

     “Just trying to understand my canvas,” Steve muttered, his broad hands cupping your shoulders like he was giving you a massage. 

You sighed, rolling back your neck until you could see a glimpse of him, a slight smile on your face. You crossed your arms over your chest to cover your breasts, making an X shape with your arms. 

     “I’m sure,” you replied, and he lurched forward to plant a kiss on your lips before leaning back, gesturing for you to lie down. 

     You lay down on your front side, your back fully exposed to Steve. Rays of light splashed against your back and shone in Steve’s softened face. You could hear him cleaning his paintbrushes in the mason jar of water that was balancing on the bed sheets, the brush clanking against the rim of the jar and the water sloshing around with the bristles. Your days with Steve were growing more and more intimate as the time passed on. 

     Steve had finally given in to your pleas that he draw more, but he took it a step further and decided he would paint instead, using you as a canvas. Steve caught on fast, and you loved that about him. Whatever you wanted to do, he was down, and he would go that extra mile because he wanted to, not because he didn’t feel like he had an option. 

     You tapped your feet against the bed sheets to the rhythm of the Jhene Aiko song playing in the background, and grinned to yourself when you heard Steve humming along. You put him onto so much that he didn’t even realize the things he was picking up from you along the way. 

     “Alright,” Steve grinned in satisfaction, dipping his brush into the selection of paints on his easel. “You ready?”

You gave him a thumbs up, giddy with excitement. Steve had to gently touch your ankles to remind you to stop shaking, and you uttered a giggly apology while he shook his head playfully. 

     “Never had such a difficult canvas,” Steve straddled the back of your legs as you lay still below him. 

     “Shut up,” you chuckled, cutting yourself off with a gasp when you felt the cool paint against your back. “Shit, that’s cold as fuck!”

     “Language,” Steve smirked, and you barked a bitter laugh. 

     “This is coming from the man who was describing the ways he wanted to deflower my body in obscene depth this morning,” you clapped back at him, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to recede with a resigning sigh. Noting his silence, you simpered. “I win.”

     “Just remember I am the one with total control over your body right now. One misstroke and this painting goes from Mona Lisa quality to absolute shit,” Steve reminded you, waving a finger in the air. 

      “Mona Lisa? Someone thinks real highly of themselves,” you poked fun at him as he continued to layer paint on your back to create a light blue base. “Besides, paint washes off.”

      “I’ll lock you out of the bathroom,” Steve sniggered, much too pleased with himself for your liking. You swatted at him with a reprimanding hand and he dodged it. “Alright, alright. I won’t mess it up on purpose, I promise.”

     “You better not,” you murmured, already sinking into sleep. You couldn’t help it. You were tired from being worn out this morning, because Steve did do everything to your body that he said he would do, namely fucking the daylights out of you. And, Steve painting on your back was oddly therapeutic in a way, and the brush against your back felt like feathers from a pillow, lulling you to sleep. So, you fell asleep as the sound of the music playing faded away. 

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s deep voice in your ear, telling you to wake up so he could take pictures of you. 

      Your eyes trickled open slowly and you looked up at Steve who was laying on his side next to you, positively beaming. You smiled sleepily, the fog from your sleep starting to clear from the light Steve was emanating. His face was so close up, you couldn’t help but brush your nose against his and give him a butterfly kiss before kissing his nose with your lips. 

     “I finished,” Steve grinned in celebration, and in that moment you were sure you’d never seen him look so happy, except for when you stepped off the private jet and into his life. 

     “Baby,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and got up gingerly, so as not to mess up the masterpiece that was still drying on your back. “Lemme see.”

      Steve got up quickly and dragged the full body mirror towards you, standing behind it and holding it up, a proud smile glued to his face. You couldn’t help but giggle at how satisfied he looked with the results, and your heart swelled to see him so happy and actually doing some personal hobbies outside of work. You were glad you were with him, and you were glad that meant he got a break from the hustle of his everyday life. This break wouldn’t last forever, but at least he was getting one. He didn’t often do things that he actually liked to do, he was so worked up. When he was with you, he was free to do whatever, and you actually pushed him to do the things he enjoyed. 

      You turned so your back faced the mirror, and craned your neck to see the work of art. It was a divine myriad of colors on your glowing skin, a light blue sky as the base, a painting of the sun and moon on top. The moon and sun each had eyes, a nose, and a mouth, and the moon was hugging the sun, covering its right eye. He had drawn swirly clouds and glinting stars all around to truly bedazzle the piece. You couldn’t stop smiling, it was truly beautiful and probably the most intimate thing you’d ever done with someone. 

      “Steve, you’re literally amazing at this. I’m serious,” you prodded him when he shook his head in embarrassment. “I mean look, you know it’s amazing, you’re so proud of yourself! And you should be.”

You scrambled over to him, tugging at the camera that was hanging by a strap around his neck,

     “C’mon. Take pictures of it!”

     “Yeah, just—” Steve cocked his head to the side, trailing off, and you realized immediately that he was distracted by your bare upper torso. 

You shook your head, laughing to yourself, and stood up on your knees to pose for him. 

      “You can take some just for yourself, too,” you winked. 

❊

       You woke up to the feeling of Steve stroking your face with his thumb and kissing the top of your head ever so gently, the room dark except for the fuzzy light blue glare of the TV screen a few feet away. You snuggled into his chest, already laid up on top of him, both your bodies stretched out on the cozy couch. 

      You sighed sleepily and blinked up at him. He was fixated on the TV, halfway through the first Deathly Hallows movie. You’d fallen asleep somewhere towards the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so you were quite pleasantly surprised that Steve let you lay on him for so long, and that he continued watching the movies. His blue eyes were unmoving, glued to the screen and thoroughly engaged in the story. You smiled below him and poked his chest, making him glance down at you with an unassuming “hmm?” sound. 

      “How long have I been asleep?”

      “A long time,” Steve smooched your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips, suffocating you with his kisses. “How are you feeling?”

     “Not as sleepy. We stayed up way too late last night,” you reminded him, and he shrugged. 

      “At least I’m almost finished,” he said, referring to the Harry Potter movies that you had stayed up late last night to continue. 

     “We gotta figure out your Hogwarts house,” you squinted up at him, making the calculations in your head. “I think you’re a Gryffindor. I am too.”

     “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff… it’s all the same, isn’t it?” Steve sighed, and you gasped, sitting up on his lap and looking at him, appalled,

      “Steve! Have you learned nothing from the past seven movies?”

He cackled, shaking his head,

      “I’m kidding. I think so too, doll.”

You pushed his chest with a dramatic pout, 

      “Nevermind, asshole, you’re definitely a Slytherin.”

      “Hey, I don’t wanna be a bad guy!”

      “Boo fucking hoo,” you droned. “You get to be a hero all the goddamn time, take your Slytherin house placement and go. Also, you clearly haven’t been paying attention! Not all Slytherins are bad.”

      “I’ll take being an Avenger over being a Slytherin any day,” Steve noted casually, and you couldn’t help but grin at the side note. You positioned yourself on his lap so you were straddling him and he put his hands around your waist almost reflexively. 

      “Yeah?”

      “Of course,” Steve insisted. “My job is tough but, someone’s gotta do it.”

     “You ever wish you weren’t like this? I mean… if you’d known things would turn out the way they did…”

You bit your lip in anticipation as you waited for Steve’s answer, because he was taking a while to think about it. You hoped you weren’t pushing a boundary here by asking this question, but Steve knew you had good intentions, and you knew him long enough to know that he wouldn’t be afraid to answer you.

     He finally found it in him to give you a cohesive answer. He truly had to think, because it wasn’t a feeling he could quite put into words. People thought Steve was this stonelike, serious guy, but he was mainly just pensive. He was still the same Steve he’d always been, even before the serum, even before he became a figure of fame. Now, people just happened to take him a whole lot more seriously. People admired him. But all the while, he was still grieving, still trying to figure out his footing in this world. Now that he was with you, the process was going along much smoother. 

He clasped your hands, bringing your interlaced fingers to his lips,

     “I’ve been through a lot. And it’s hard for me to face things head on sometimes, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I have to admit, though, it really has been nice just… being unseen. Just for a few days, being unknown by the world. Under the radar, I guess. I get to just be Steve, not Captain. And don’t get me wrong, I’d never complain about my responsibilities. I’m just a private person. I’m not in this for the fame and the attention. That’s the only thing I’d ever change. I just want to do what’s right. I don’t need the praise.”

     You nodded, completely understanding. Whenever you and Steve had these deep conversations, you were glad, because you really both listened to each other. You said exactly what was on your minds without fearing judgment. You had kind of expected that to be Steve’s answer, the way he cherished his privacy and didn’t seem to care much for the frills attached to his honorable job. 

     Notoriety wasn’t Steve’s goal, in fact he figured he’d be better off without it. He was grateful for his work, but he didn’t need the fans and worship that came with it. You could honestly never grow tired of Steve talking about himself— his past, his present, his job, his fears. He hardly talked about himself anyway, he was always engulfed in one thing or another. You liked pulling things out of him, not because you wanted to be intrusive, but because you knew it’d be good for him. Besides, how would you get along if you didn’t truly know each other?

As he spoke, you nodded, taking in each and every word. You let your fingernails lightly scratch his face, trailing along his perfect superhuman skin, lulling him without even realizing it. 

     “I get that. You could be Steve Rogers and just save lives, and live just how you want to.”

     “Yeah,” Steve smiled, gazing up into your eyes, the movie long forgotten in the background. He placed his hands on your hips as if to keep you in place where you were, locking you in like you belonged here and here only. “What about you? Would you change anything?”

      You cocked your head with a small smile. You hadn’t been expecting him to ask about you, and it honestly wasn’t something you thought of quite a lot. Maybe if you were still hurting, you’d say yes. But, because your whole life had brought you to this point, here with him and happy with yourself, you couldn’t. 

You shook your head, biting down on your lip, your smile expanding,

     “No. I wouldn’t. I’m actually kind of content now. Healing’s a long process, but it’s worth it. And I’m with you, so it’s all worth it.”

Steve’s eyes glimmered when you said that, and his fingers dung deeper into your hips.

        “Think this is probably the happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve said, and god, he didn’t know how much that meant to you.

tags later!

[pagingevilspawn]

Would you please write a fic about alex behaviour with children like the way he comforts them or help them through?

heart of gold

hey there! i’m not gonna lie when i say that this prompt took me forever to figure out, but when i did i was super excited! 

this is mainly Alex centric with a bit of jolex added in (obviously). i hope you like it!

___

Of all people to notice Alex Karev’s strange ability to work well with children first, no one would’ve expected it to be Cristina Yang. 

It was fairly early in their intern year, and both she and Karev were on the pediatrics rotation with Dr. Keith, someone who they could both agree was an arrogant son of a bitch that thought way too highly of himself for his own good. 

They’d been trailing behind him like lost puppies all day, listening to him go on and on while he talked to the patient’s families, not even bothering to ask his interns any questions. He always thought that interns were a waste of time and space. He’s much rather have at least a third year resident on his service, but no such luck. They felt like crap and both wanted to kick the guy in the ass, but knew that the only thing that would do is get them knocked out of the program. 

Six hours into their shift, the two were about to head to the cafeteria for a much desired lunch break when their pagers rang out, loud groans escaping their mouths at the noise they had come to detest the last couple of weeks. 

All Alex really wanted was a slice of the hospital’s pizza. Granted, the crust tasted like cardboard, the cheese was old, and the sauce had no flavor, but he was craving it like crazy. He hadn’t gone out for groceries recently, so the only thing that was stocked in the shelves of his small apartment was cereal, some oatmeal, and off brand, nearly expired crackers that he had since he finished med school a couple of months ago. He had --for some unknown reason-- shoved them into a backpack that had made it with him as he traveled from Iowa to Washington, completely untouched. 

With a huff he turns on his heel and makes his way to the pit where he was being paged, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the nurse he disrespected on his first day, along with the ones he’d slept with and hadn’t called back. He had a pretty large list of nurses who didn’t like him, and he didn’t feel like making that list any longer. Not today, at least. 

Keith instructed him to go cast an arm for the seven year old in bed six, while Yang was told to go stitch up the cut on the little girl in bed two. 

When Alex was done he passed by Yang’s area, watching as she was trying to calm down the little girl who couldn’t be more than five. The girl had tears streaming down her face and was nuzzled into the mom’s chest. The mother was glaring at the female doctor, who was saying something Alex could make out as “it’s not even scary, it’s just a needle.” 

All he really wanted to do was get that damn pizza slice, and he had every intention of doing so, but seeing Yang be absolutely hopeless at getting anywhere with the little girl, he felt a bit of sympathy-- not for his fellow intern, but for the kid. 

With a sigh he strides over to the bed, watching as the raven head’s mouth opens to speak, cutting her off immediately. “Let me handle this.” he says, reaching to grab the needle from her head. 

Cristina glares at him, her expression turning into one of disgust. No way was she going to let Evil Spawn steal her patient, no matter how much she wished she’d be doing anything else. 

“Karev-”

“--Yang!” he cuts her off sharply, plucking the needle from her hand and bumping her out of the way. Not the nicest thing to do, but she was practically terrifying the little girl. There was no way she would trust the doctor now. 

His coworker scoffs, huffing a ‘fine’ before she goes to stand back and watch the scene, more than eager to watch the man fail. What good could he do? The girl was crying the second she had taken the disinfectant out. 

Alex pulls up a chair, grabbing the attention of the little girl, who looks up from her mother’s chest for a second, only to dive back in right after. 

“Hey kid, my name’s Doctor Karev. You mind telling me your’s?” he asks gently, slipping on a pair of gloves and flashing a signature crooked grin. 

The girl makes eye contact warily, slightly unlatching from her mom's tight hold at the sight of the man’s smile. The other doctor looked super serious, it was kind of scary. 

“Piper.” she answers, wiping the tears from under her eyes, the mom flashing him a grateful smile. 

“Hey Piper.” he grins. “I see you got hurt up there. What happened?” he wettens the pad with disinfectant, keeping his eyes on the little blonde, knowing it would mean less questions if she was focused on his face. 

“I was jumping on the couch and then I fell and hit the table.” she explains, Alex inspecting the cut to see if her story was reliable. He knew firsthand what it was like to come up with excuses for the bruises on your face, and wanted to make sure that she wasn’t just trying to cover up for something else that happened. 

Luckily, the combination of the authenticity of the bruise and the level of trust the daughter had in her mom let him know that she really did do what she said. He knew at some point he was gonna need to not assume the worst in every parent that came in with an injured kid, but the wound was still fresh for him, and it would take some time to heal-- a long time.

“Well then Piper, I’m gonna need to clean your cut, but it’s gonna sting a bit. Is that okay?” he asks her, her green eyes widening, but eventually nodding. The doctor seemed nice enough. 

He cleans the wound, turning back at the girl when he pulls out a needle, watching as her face begins to look panicked. “Hey, it’s okay.” he reassures her. His eyes dart around, noticing a backpack that sat in the corner, decorated with a multitude of princesses. 

“Who’s your favorite princess?” he asks her, drawing Piper’s attention away from the scary needle in his hands. 

“Belle.” she answers, a small smile making its way to her face. She loved talking about the princess’s and would chatter on about them anytime, any day, anywhere.  

Alex smirks, letting out a sigh of relief. He knew all about Belle, since it was Amber’s all time favorite Disney movie. He’d seen it more time than he’d like to admit, and practically had the whole film memorized since he was fourteen.

“I like Belle too. She’s super brave huh? Never afraid of the Beast or anything.” he gives her a smile, watching as Piper’s face lights up, a wide, toothless smile splayed on her lips. 

“Yeah! She’s so cool! She never lets the beast tell her what to do!” she exclaims, making Alex chuckle. She reminded Alex a lot of his little sister, with her dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and passion for princesses. 

“Okay, well, right now I’m gonna need you to be super brave like Belle alright? And sit really really still, like she does when she reads a book. Can you do that for me Piper?” he smirks mischievously. 

The little girl grins. She always wanted to be like her favorite princess, so she definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to act like one. She already practiced around the house, so she was definitely going to practice in front of the nice doctor who looked like Prince Philip.  

Cristina stood frozenly in the background, mouth opened so wide it could catch flies. Who knew Karev was so good with kids? She sure as hell didn’t.  

She watches as he stitches up the cut, saying some reassuring words every time the girl flinches or squeezes her eyes shut. It was about twenty minutes later when he finished, Yang still standing there in shock. She sees him dress the wound, getting up from his chair and say, “All done. You did awesome Piper, but no more jumping on the couch, alright?” which earns him a nod. He flashes a friendly wink to the mom, who blushes as he walks away, forgetting entirely about Yang’s presence as he makes his way to the cafeteria to finally get his hands on the pizza slice he’s been drooling about for hours.

Maybe Evil Spawn wasn’t so evil after all. 

~*~

Miranda Bailey was exhausted. Between Tuck and trying to begin a pediatric fellowship, all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep for god knows long. Tucker being difficult about their shared custody schedule seemed to only add to her fatigue and she swore on her life that she could crash on the nearest gurney and not wake up for three days straight. 

It was with a heavy sigh she begrudgingly made her way back down to the NICU, remembering that she had left Karev there the day before after administering the kangaroo hold. She knew that by now he had probably dispersed, but she felt like checking on the little baby herself, just to make sure that the preemie was doing okay.

When she arrived at the NICU doors she could see a few faces that she recognized standing outside the window, talking in hushed conversations as they stared at the scene in front of them with imploring eyes, that is, until the one she knew as Reed rushed away-- a friend at her side, finishing their conversation quickly. 

Miranda shakes her head. Though she had softened over the years, everyone still feared the inner ‘Nazi’ that came out from time to time. When she finishes gowning herself she makes her way into the room, stopping in front of the shirtless, sleeping figure on a chair. Surprised was the only word she was able to come up with, though it seemed like an understatement of the century. Alex Karev was sitting there, with a sleeping baby curled contently against his chest, her tiny breaths in sync with the man who was holding her. 

She shakes her head, stopping a few feet from where the man sat. “Karev?” she says, making him open his groggy eyes, blinking as he does so to look around for the source of the noise, relaxing when he knows that no monitors are going off and the baby on his chest is still very much alive. 

“Did you stay here all night?” she asks softly, watching as he looks out the window to see that it was in fact daytime, not evening like it was before he’d fallen asleep.

He takes another look at the baby in his arms, “Um, yeah. I… I guess I did.” he trails off, his voice rough since he barely was awake.  

“Go home, get some rest. The nurse will take over for you.” Miranda scolds. These interns (who were now residents) were like her children, her babies, and as much as the sight warmed her heart, she needed her babies to be well rested. She couldn’t have them falling asleep in the middle of surgery. 

He unintentionally pulls the tiny bundle of pink a bit closer, “No. Uh, I- I’m okay. I’m… good here.” 

She lets out a small, barely there laugh, but not at him. She’d seen the soft side of Alex Karev, but it was few and far between. Everyone knew that the rough exterior he put up was just to stop himself from getting hurt, but this… this side was new. She had never seen him more vulnerable than he was right now, the baby sleeping so soundly on his chest that it seemed like no amount of noise could disturb her. 

“Well, you'd be good in Peds, you know that?” she flicks her gaze from him to the baby. “You get invested. You have good instincts. You stick to your instincts,” she continues, Alex looking down at the child, making some kind of face she wouldn’t know how to describe. 

“You’d be good in Peds, Karev.” she walks away, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts. 

Maybe, just maybe, kids would be the one thing that would allow Karev to show everyone who he really was. 

~*~         

Alex Karev had sort of snuck up on Arizona Robbins. When he said that he was interested in Peds, she truly thought that he was joking, just trying to say something to either get a laugh out of her or annoy her. 

She didn’t know much about Karev, all she really knew was what she had heard from the nurses gossiping loudly at their stations, and the occasional input from Callie here and there. All she really knew was that he had been married to Stevens, who had cancer, then they later got divorced, and before he was married he had earned himself quite a bit of a ‘man-whore’ reputation, nearly as bad as Mark’s. 

Arizona was weary about Karev, so imagine her surprise when she saw his face light up as a kid called him Doctor Alex for the first time. 

The first time she’d ever had the young man on her service she knew that he was cold, arrogant, and a bit too cocky for his own good. He was overall an asshole, and to say Robbins wasn’t happy to have him on her service was an understatement. Bailey had said something to her recently about Karev, but that didn’t lessen her lack of enjoyment about his upcoming arrival on her floor. 

When the man did arrive, he was seven minutes late for rounds, dumping an empty cup of hospital bought coffee in the nearest trash can. He flashed her a crooked grin, apologizing for his tardiness, but not explaining why.

Arizona sighed, rolling her eyes discreetly. She wasn’t normally a strict teacher, but one thing she didn’t like was when her residents were late. The lives of tiny humans were in their hands, no second could be wasted-- much less seven minutes.

“Welcome to peds Doctor Karev…” She starts off, telling him about how pediatrics wasn’t wiping kid’s noses and cuddly bunnies all day long. Peds was hardcore, only for the elite. 

She stops outside room 414, turning back to Karev and giving him as stern of a glare as she could muster. “Remember Karev, smile, engage. These are kids we’re talking about here.” 

Alex rolls his eyes. He knew he wasn’t the nicest guy. He was an ass, a douche, and definitely not the man most women would be proud to take home to their parents. But if there was one thing he did know, it was kids. He practically raised one for god’s sake.  

“Got it Robbins.” he huffs, fixing his posture as the two walk into the room, where a little boy sat on his bed, playing with his colorful toys that sat on his lap, anxious parents sitting in chairs beside him. 

Arizona flashes a grin to the family, directing her attention back to the boy. “Hi Nico, how are we doing today?” 

Nico shrugs, mustering a half-hearted smile. “I’m okay.” he answers, more focused on his toys than the doctors in the room.

“Well that’s good,” she jots something down on her chart. “This is Dr. Alex. He’s gonna be another one of your doctors, okay Nico?” 

“Doctor Alex?” the boy confirms, making Arizona look up from her chart and Alex look back at the boy. 

She saw it then. The way his eyes lit up at the name, how a crooked grin unconsciously made its way to his lips. He had it. The peds glow. 

“Hey dude.” Alex smirks, trying to hide is bubbling excitement. He liked that name, ‘Doctor Alex’. It was different from Karev. It was lighter, easier, it sounded right. Doctor Karev was too… but Doctor Alex? Doctor Alex sounded pretty great. 

Arizona bites her lip as she watches her resident and the patient interact, trying to keep her smile at bay. 

There it is. There’s the real Alex Karev. 

~*~ 

Jo Wilson sat in the intern’s locker room, knotting up the ties of her scrub pants as she listened to the chief resident rattle of names of who the intern’s were with that day. She was more than thankful for a new service, since Medusa was downright terrifying, but she was really hoping that she wouldn’t be assigned to-

“--Wilson you’re with Doctor Karev on Peds.”

Shit. 

She was sure Karev was a great doctor, I mean, he wouldn’t be here-- at one of the best hospitals in the world-- if he sucked. 

But she’d already heard enough about Karev to say that she didn’t like him, not one bit. So far she’d witnessed Leah crying into her locker about why he wouldn’t answer her calls, nurses complain to each other about why he hadn’t texted, and other interns chattering at bars about why he acted like he didn’t know them when they saw each other again.

In conclusion, he was a grade-A jackass who slept with any female that had two legs, and she was certainly not going to be the next one on his (extensive) list of conquests. No sir-ee. 

With a huff she ties her hair back, giving Stephanie a deadpan look after she whispers a “Good luck. Make sure not to sleep with him.” 

There was no way she would be sleeping with Karev, not in a million years. She had heard so much from others that she could already paint a picture-

Ew, no. That’s gross. 

Either way, there was nothing he could ever say to make her fall in bed with him. Nothing at all. 

…

She was exhausted. Karev was an ass. An ass who didn’t hate her, but was still an insufferable asshole. Jo stood at the nurses station, leaning over the counter as she filled out her charts, scribbling down her notes angrily. He made her angry. 

Though she had to admit, seeing him all freaked out over her (fake) crying was pretty hilarious. 

“--Wilson!” she hears her name being called by her asshole of a superior. She turns around, plastering such a faux smile on her face that she felt nauseated just knowing that it was there. 

She’s about to respond when Doctor Grey comes running up to him, shoving a toddler in his arms, taking him by surprise. 

“Alex. I need you to watch her.” the blonde pleads, making him scrunch his eyebrows. 

“Mer I-” 

“Please.” Meredith begs, Alex giving her a crooked grin as he takes ahold of his niece. If there was one thing that could make Alex Karev smile without even trying, it was Zola Grey Shepherd, a two and a half year old little fireball.  

A large grin comes across the little girl’s face as she looks at the man in front of her. “Unca Lex!” she exclaims, clasping her tiny hand on the side of his face. 

“Hi Ms. Zozo,” he smiles, Jo not even noticing how the corner’s of her mouth quirked up at the sight. This was not the Doctor Karev she’d been with these past few hours, this was someone completely new. This was… Alex? 

Meredith sighs. “I have on OB appointment, and normally we’d take her, but she’s just been so fussy lately, and when I tried to take her to daycare she threw a fit-”

Alex cuts her off, “Mer, it's fine. I got her.” he reassures her, pretending to bite the little girl’s finger as it came close to his face, causing her to let out a loud squeal. 

“Okay but-”

He rolls his eyes at the blonde, “Mer, go. She’ll be completely fine.” he smirks. “We all know that she likes me better than you and Shep combined so…” 

Meredith hits him on the shoulder before she turns and waddles down the hall, leaving Alex with a toddler in his arms that was giggling as he tickled her, and an intern who wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing in front of her. 

It was obvious that he had some skills with children, he was a pediatric surgeon for crying out loud. But nobody told her he was this good with kids.She watched as a large smile came across his face, a laugh escaping his mouth at Zola’s squeals and giggles. 

Maybe Alex Karev wasn’t as much of an asshole that she thought he was. 

~*~ 

Nothing was more perfect to him than the sight in front of him. 

Never in a million years did he ever think that he would get to where he was now. 

Alex sat next to his wife as they stared down at the little baby on her chest, her pink cheeks puffed up while her eyes were tightly squeezed closed as she tried to sleep. She was so perfect. So, so perfect.  

A daughter. 

He had a daughter. 

A little bundle of pink that weighed a whole six pounds, seven ounces. Yet somehow, she had managed to take his heart out of his chest and hold it in her tiny, tiny palm. 

Nothing could’ve prepared him for how much he already loved his little girl. He’d heard about it, read about it. He’d been in the room when parents met their child for the first time. But this? This was a whole new level of love, something he wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. 

He watched as Jo ran her thumb delicately over the baby girl’s cheeks, tears streaming down Jo’s face. It had been all of two minutes since they welcomed their daughter into the world and she hadn’t stopped crying since. 

Although he wasn’t crying, his throat was built up as he stared at his perfect little girl. A full head of wavy light brown hair sat on top of her head, her rosy lips pouted as she nestled closer to her mother’s chest. 

Perfect. 

That’s the only word that could describe the tiny figure that laid before him.

He rubs his pinky finger over her little fist, watching as it unfolds and grabs it with all of her strength. 

He can feel his heart physically clench, never before had something felt as right as feeling his little girl’s palm around his finger. 

Alex grins, placing a small kiss on the top of Jo’s head, a silent way of saying so many different things at once. 

Thank you. 

You did so well. 

You’re so strong. 

She’s so perfect. 

I love you.

Thank you for marrying me.

Thank you for loving me. 

Thank you for everything.  

Thank you.

Jo readjusts the baby on her chest, bringing her up higher for them to see. 

She lets out a watery smile, her bottom lips trembling as she stares at the tiny girl that she would do anything for. “Hi sweet girl.” she whispers, not even bothering to wipe the water droplets that cascaded down her cheeks. 

Alex lets out a crooked grin, a small laugh escaping his throat in disbelief. This perfect creation was his daughter. How was that even possible?  

“Welcome to the world Lorelei Karev.” he whispers, unable to focus on anything except the tiny girl that he would give up the sun, the moon, and the stars for. 

“We love you so much.” Jo speaks softly, looking up at her husband, the love of her life, her eyes saying more than her mouth ever could. 

Thank you. 

I love you. 

She’s so perfect. 

Thank you for her. 

Thank you for everything. 

Thank you for loving me. 

Thank you.  

They share a small kiss, reveling in the moment they knew they would remember for the rest of their lives. 

It was then he defied all odds. Overcame all of his fears. He wasn’t going to be like his dad, what everyone told him he was going to be. He was going to be an amazing dad, and he knew it.

As it turns out, kids truly were the one thing that could show everyone who the real Alex Karev was after all.