#but MAN how fucking good would it be for mike as a way to rub salt in the wound that is his internalized homophobia

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔖𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔭

Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: now that you’re finally reunited together at the lodge, you help Mike patching up his left hand after what he went through at the sanatorium. He shows his appreciation the only way he knows how: by wrecking you completely.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. No use of Y/N. Established relationship. Taking care of Mike. Some gore details but nothing too explicit. Make out session. Dirty talk. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Dom Mike Munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4000

You traced your fingers over the worn cover of the book the stranger had left behind along with many other things. It smelled of old paper and smoke, something that had been carried through decades of harsh winters and open flames.

Chris had gone with him.

Brave, loyal, stupid Chris.

You respected the hell out of him for it, but you doubted you could have done what he was currently doing. Not after what Josh had done to you. The sheer fucking terror of that night as you ran through the snow until your lungs burned, your hands raw from clawing through ice and tree bark, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your legs.

If Mike hadn't found you when he did, if he hadn't stripped off his own jacket, wrapped his arms around you and dragged you back to warmth, hypothermia would have turned you into just another body on this goddamn mountain.

You swallowed hard, running a hand through your hair, trying not to let the worry consume you, thumbing the book's edge.

"Hey," a familiar voice murmured, low and soft.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, a solid and comforting weight pressing against your back. Warm lips brushed your cheek, the scrape of stubble a slow, pleasant scratch against your skin. He smelled like sweat and smoke, the faintest trace of cologne that had long since faded but still clung to him.

Mike’s head settled on your shoulder like it belonged there. "Whatcha lookin' at, babe?" he murmured, voice rough but quiet.

You felt yourself lean back against him instinctively, seeking out his warmth. His arms tightened around you, solid, protective, the heat of him seeping through your layers of clothing.

"That man’s book," you murmured. "Might be a diary or something. There's a lot of stuff about those wendigos."

Mike made a soft sound that was meant to allude acknowledgment, but he wasn’t really paying attention. You could feel how distracted he was, his hold on you heavier, his thumbs brushing absentminded circles over your hips.

"You're warm," you mumbled, letting your fingers slide over the book's worn edges.

"Mm." Mike nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. "You're still freezing."

You let yourself close your eyes for a second, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Then he hissed.

Your eyes snapped open.

"Mike?"

"S'nothin," he muttered.

You twisted in his hold, looking down. His left hand, wrapped haphazardly in cloth, speckled with new droplets of fresh blood, the skin around the edges darkening with a sickly yellow hue.

Your stomach lurched.

"Mike," you said again, this time sharper. You reached for his hand and he winced as your fingers curled around his left wrist.

"Babe, seriously, it's—"

"How long has it been hurting?"

He hesitated.

"... Dunno."

"Mike."

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing at the back of his neck with his good hand. His jaw worked, lips parting like he was about to brush it off again, but you weren't in the mood for his bullshit. He'd lost fingers, had barely any supplies to clean or dress the wound, and now he was just acting like it was nothing? No. Fuck no.

You grabbed his wrist, turned on your heel, and dragged him toward the stairs.

"You're getting this checked out."

"I am checked out."

"Not what I meant, and you know it."

Mike was taller and definitely stronger but didn't apply any resistance. He let you haul him up the stairs, grumbling the whole way even as you ignored every attempt at reassurance he threw your way.

When you reached the bathroom, you shoved open the door, flicked on the dim light, and pushed him inside.

"Sit," you ordered, gesturing to the edge of the tub.

Mike gave you a look, somewhere between amused and exasperated, but he sat. "So bossy," he muttered.

You crossed your arms, eyeing the way he was cradling it. "I don't get why you're acting like this is nothing."

Mike exhaled through his nose, glancing away briefly before looking back at you. "It's not nothing, it just hurts, yeah, but I'll live. You don't have to—"

"I do have to," you cut in sharply, dropping to your knees in front of the cabinet. "Because if I don't, you won't."

Mike let out a sigh of annoyance, legs spread lazily, one arm draped over his knee. "Are you always this rough with your patients, doc?"

You ignored him, kneeling to rummage through the cabinets, tossing aside spent candle stubs and old toiletries in search of medical supplies.

Behind you, there was a beat of silence. Then a low, appreciative hum.

Slowly, you turned your head just enough to catch the way he was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes raking over you with a lazy and warm smirk.

He was checking you out. You put yourself literally on your knees in front of him, though. What was there to expect from him?

You pulled out all the supplies that you needed, taking a steadying breath before finally turning back to him. His eyes flickered down to your lips so fast you almost missed it, but you caught the way he licked his own right after.

Focus.

You huffed, shaking your head, but your pulse was already picking up, skin burning under his attention. He was hurt, but that didn't stop him from watching you like he wanted to drag you right into his lap.

The cloth Mike had wrapped around his hand at the sanatorium was stiff with dried blood, its edges dark and crusted where it had fused to his skin. As you carefully took his wrist in your hands, you could feel the faint tremor in his fingers, the way tension rolled through his muscles.

"Alright," you murmured, voice steady but quiet. "I'm gonna take this off, okay? Might sting a little."

Mike let out a huff, trying for nonchalance. " 'M not a baby, doc. Do your worst."

The moment you started peeling the fabric away, he sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching so tight that the muscle twitches beneath his skin.

The cloth resisted at first, sticking where dried blood had hardened over raw tissue. You worked slowly, peeling inch by inch, watching as fresh beads of dark crimson welled up in places where the wound had begun to heal over.

Mike inhaled sharply through his nose. His free hand gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

The cloth clung like a second skin.

Dried blood, thick and dark, had cemented it to the raw, exposed tissue beneath, and as you worked slow, methodical, careful not to rip too hard, Mike's body tensed, muscles coiling beneath your hands. His jaw was locked tight, breath a little too controlled, like he was forcing himself not to react.

The fabric resisted, the edges fused to the cuts where his fingers had been, and with every slow pull, fresh beads of crimson welled up, tracing thin, sluggish lines down his palm. His breath stuttered once when you reached the worst of it, the exposed ends of his two amputated fingers, swollen and dark, the skin around them an angry mix of purple bruises and sickly yellow where trauma had already started its slow decay.

Mike turned his head, like he didn't want to see. For a guy who'd hacked off his own fingers with a rusty machete, he looked pale.

"Not fully clotted," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "Need to clean this before it gets infected. Still think this is nothing?"

Mike made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Looks badass, though, right?"

You didn't answer, just reached for the antiseptic.

The second the cool sting soaked into the torn flesh, Mike jerked.

"Motherfucker—!" His head knocked back against the bathroom wall, his whole body going rigid. His free hand, the one not currently being brutalized, gripped his thigh so hard you swore you heard the fabric strain.

"You could warn a guy before going in dry," he gritted out.

You smirked. "That sounded suggestive."

Mike cracked one eye open. "And you didn't deny it."

"Would it make you shut up if I did?"

His grin was wicked. "Absolutely not."

You sighed but didn't fight it. If he wanted to talk his way through the pain, you'd let him.

Still, when you pressed a little too hard near the exposed bone, his breath hitched sharply, his amusement faltering for half a second.

"If you wanted to hold my hand this bad, you coulda just said so" he rasped, cracking an eye open.

You scoffed, fingers tightening slightly around his wrist. "Yeah, real romantic. Holding the bloody stump where your fingers used to be."

Mike smirked. "Hey, don't kinkshame."

You groaned in annoyance and he grinned, even as another sharp inhale betrayed the pain lancing through his hand. "Seriously, though. You're really good with your hands, babe. Ever consider nursing?"

"I am considering strangling you," you muttered, reaching for fresh gauze.

Mike exhaled a laugh before leaning in up close to your face.

The movement was so casual and natural that it caught you off guard. One second he was watching you and the next his face was too close, his breath warm against your cheek as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek. His light beard scratched and heat curled under your skin, a slow, involuntary reaction that made your fingers tighten against his forearm.

Your jaw clenched. "Mike—"

He hummed. "Mmh?"

"You're bleeding."

"Uh-huh." He grinned, smug and lazy and when you adjusted your grip on his wrist, he made a low, pleased noise in the back of his throat just to mess with you.

"Jesus Christ, Mike."

"What? I'm just appreciating my hot, talented and very caring boyfriend for patching me up."

You pulled the bandage too tight just to make him hiss in pain.

Mike grinned through clenched teeth. "Fuck—okay, point taken."

"Finally."

Mike chuckled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

His fingers twitched again. His hand curled slightly, as if testing, as if waiting for something that wasn't there anymore.

You hesitated for only a second before tightening the last wrap around his palm. "Gonna feel different for a while," you said, keeping your tone light, casual. "Your grip, I mean."

Mike snorted. "Shit, you think? I just lost two fingers, babe."

His usual sarcasm was there, but something about the way he said it felt different.

You taped the gauze in place, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

Mike had survived everything tonight. He had fought through it all with nothing but adrenaline, sheer luck, and that reckless defiance that had always defined him. But now that he was sitting still, now that the worst of the pain was fading into a dull, pulsing throb...

Now, he had time to think.

And it was hitting him.

His fingers were gone.

Forever.

He wasn't going to wake up tomorrow and have them back. This wasn't just some temporary wound that would heal with time.

It was permanent.

He flexed his remaining fingers absently, as if testing his grip, his jaw tight.

"Feels... weird," he muttered, almost absentmindedly. “Think I'll still be able to hold a beer?"

He was joking but there was something off in the way he said it.

You looked at him, really looked at him. The tension in his shoulders. The faint, forced edge to his grin.

He was thinking about more than beer.

His fingers. His hand. The permanence of it. How people might look at him and how much harder things were gonna be now.

You finished wrapping his hand, smoothing the last bit of gauze in place with a final, deliberate touch. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold.

Leaning back on your heels, you exhaled, shaking your head. "Guess I'm the one who has to handle all the hard stuff now."

Mike blinked.

For the first time all night, he was speechless.

"... You flirting with me, doc?"

You shrugged. "Just making an observation."

Mike let out another laugh, but this time it was real. His shoulders relaxed, the tension bleeding out of him just a little.

His grin was real this time.

“Don't even start, man. If anyone's gonna be handling shit, it's still gonna be me."

You lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah? Kinda hard to do that when you're down a couple fingers."

His smirk sharpened, eyes dark and dangerous, flicked up to yours and something in the air shifted as he leaned closer, his lips just a breath from yours.

"Also, real talk—what if I can't give proper back rubs anymore?" He leaned in even closer, voice dipping into a low murmur. "Or, y'know... other things?"

You shoved his shoulder, feeling your face heat up instantly. "Jesus, Mike."

"What?" He grinned, smug as ever. "This is serious. I had skills, babe. Top-tier skills."

You rolled your eyes. "You still have a perfectly functional hand."

Mike smirked. "Yeah, but both were better."

"Oh my God."

"You're picturing it now, aren't you?"

You let out a frustrated, flustered noise, turning away. "I'm leaving."

Mike laughed, low and rich and tugged you back toward him before you could escape. "No, no, no. C'mere."

You stumbled, landing right between his legs, hands instinctively pressing against his chest.

His teeth grazed your jaw, voice dipping into a low, teasing growl. "You worried I can't fuck you properly anymore? You really think losing a couple fingers is gonna stop me from wrecking you?"

A sharp, involuntary shudder ran through you. You gritted your teeth. "I was worried about your hand, you asshole."

Mike grinned, lazy and wolfish, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His good hand slid along your thigh to make your muscles tighten beneath his touch.

Your throat went dry.

Mike leaned in, pressing close, his body heat sinking into yours. His lips ghosted over your jaw, his breath hot as he murmured, "Keep up that attitude, babe. We’ll see if you keep acting like this when I spread you open and make you beg.”

Fuck.

You barely had a second to process before his lips crashed into yours.

A mess of teeth and heat and sheer desperation. You gasped, barely able to keep up and Mike took the opportunity, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. His grip on you tightened, fingers digging in like he was staking a claim, like he needed to feel you against him.

Your hands shot up to his chest, gripping at his shirt, and fuck, he was solid, hot, broad, so damn strong even now. Then his hand dropped lower, sliding down your back, curving over your ass in a slow, possessive squeeze that made heat bolt straight to your core.

"Fuck—“

Mike hummed in approval, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip before he bit down. "That's it."

His arms tightened around you and you barely had time to register that he'd lifted you before his body slotted between your legs, pressing firmly against you.

A single, quiet grunt slipped through his teeth as he moved so quick despite the way his injured hand should've made it difficult.

"Mike—"

"You worried about my hand? Babe, I could still fuck you stupid with one hand tied behind my back," he muttered, his mouth already on your throat, his hands gripping you tight, controlling the pace.

Heat spiked through your veins.

Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging him closer and Mike groaned. A low, deep sound that sent a thrill straight down your spine. Your nails bit into his shoulders, head knocking back as his mouth moved, claiming every inch of exposed skin.

His grip on your jaw tightened, angling your face exactly how he wanted, his thumb swiping rough over your cheekbone before he was on you again. Kissing you deeper, hand sliding down your back, fingers curling at the base of your spine before dropping lower, gripping at your waist to pull you against him.

His head spun with the warmth of your mouth, how your body molded so easily to his and the quiet, breathy noise you made.

He groaned into your mouth, fingers flexing to get a better grip on you, to take more. Because right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was you.

His perfect, hot as fuck boyfriend.

The taste of dried blood clung to your tongue as Mike kissed you. His lips were chapped, rough from the cold and when you pressed harder against him, his teeth scraped yours, a sharp, desperate clash that sent fire straight to your gut. The scrape of his stubble against your skin was maddening, dragging a raw burn down your jaw as he moved from your lips to your neck, breathing you in like he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your waist tight, fingers digging in with bruising force, like he was trying to brand himself into you.

Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him flush against you and he groaned into your throat, the sound low and rough as his teeth, sharp and claiming, bit down.

"Shit—Mike," you gasped.

He just chuckled against your pulse, hot breath sending a shiver racing down your spine. "Yeah, sweetheart?" His voice was thick with amusement, but when he pulled back to look at you, his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, hunger etched into every line of his face.

He swallowed your next breath in another kiss, deeper this time, tongue pushing past your lips. His injured hand stayed at your waist, firm and grounding, while his good hand slid lower, rough fingers finding the buckle of your belt.

You barely had time to react before he flicked it open in one practiced motion, dragging your pants down enough to expose you to the cool air. A sharp shiver shot through you at the contrast, your skin burning hot from his touch and freezing from the exposure.

"Fuck, babe. You're already hard?" he murmured, voice drenched in heat.

You could barely bite back the whimper that threatened to escape when his fingers wrapped around you, his grip firm but teasing, dragging slow strokes up and down your length.

He sounded entirely too pleased with himself, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, then lower, nipping and sucking marks into your throat as he kept working you over with slow, torturous strokes.

Your breathing came ragged, uneven, and you barely registered when his fingers left you until they were lower, pressing against your entrance.

A sharp inhale shot through you as he teased the tip of one finger inside. It wasn't enough.

"Relax," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, "Lemme take care of you."

The second finger pushed in, scissoring you open and you clenched around him, a choked sound escaping your throat. Mike groaned, his hips pressing forward, letting you feel just how hard he was through his jeans.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice wrecked. "So tight, even after all the times I've fucked you open like this." His lips dragged over your throat, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

You couldn't answer. Not when his fingers were fucking you open with precise, practiced motions. His pace quickened, pushing deeper, stretching you until it burned, but you wanted more, needed more.

"Please," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper.

Mike chuckled, the sound low and dark. "Please what, sweetheart?"

You groaned, nails digging into his back. "Fuck me, Mike."

That was all it took.

He withdrew his fingers abruptly, making you whimper at the loss, but then he was undoing his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself. You barely got the chance to breathe before he was pressing against you, the thick heat of him nudging your entrance.

You tensed, fingers gripping his shoulders, breath catching in your throat.

Mike leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear. "Breathe," he murmured, "I got you."

Then he pushed in, stretching you wide around him even further than his fingers had already done. The burn was sharp, overwhelming, but fuck, the feeling of him filling you up, stretching you to your limit, was everything.

Your jaw clenched, a shuddering gasp escaping as he bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours.

Mike groaned, his head falling against your shoulder. "Jesus fuck," he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. "Always so fuckin' tight for me."

He throbbed inside you, every inch of him stretched you open, forcing you to take every bit of him.

Then he moved.

The first thrust was slow, dragging every inch of him against you before slamming back in, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your head fell back against the mirror, teeth clenched to suppress a broken moan.

Mike grinned against your throat. "Let me hear you," he murmured,

He set a brutal pace. Each thrust knocked the breath from your lungs, slamming deep, hitting that spot inside you that made your whole body tighten.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his teeth dragging over your jaw. "So good for me."

Your nails raked down his back, your body tightening around him with every deep, relentless stroke.

"Shit—" His breath hitched, his rhythm stuttering for a fraction of a second. "You're squeezing me so fuckin' tight, babe."

You barely registered your own voice, wrecked and desperate, babbling his name over and over as he fucked you open.

His good hand slid up your chest, fingers wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump.

"You love this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your lips.

You could only nod, your hands tightening around him as his pace grew frantic, reckless. His thrusts turned erratic, hips snapping against yours with desperate force.

"Close," you gasped, body tensing.

Mike groaned, his grip on your waist tightening. "Fuck yeah, come for me, sweetheart."

Then he angled his hips just right, hitting deep, and that was it.

Your orgasm hit hard, pleasure slamming through you, leaving you shaking as you clenched around him. Mike groaned at the feeling, his rhythm stuttering.

"Fuck, fuck—" His breath came in ragged gasps and then he was slamming into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat. You felt the heat of his release as he came, filling you completely, his body trembling against yours.

You both stayed there, panting, trembling, bodies locked together in the aftermath.

After a moment, Mike let out a breathy chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw.

The bathroom was a mess.

The counter was damp from where you'd been pressed against it, your clothes haphazardly tossed somewhere near the sink, and Mike, smug bastard that he was, looked deeply pleased with himself.

"You good, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse, rough around the edges, but still dripping with that lazy, teasing confidence. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further, his grin downright sinful as he glanced at you, sprawled against the counter like you'd just had the life fucked out of you, which, to be fair, you had.

He hummed, reaching for his shirt-before pausing, wincing slightly as he flexed his injured hand. It wasn't as bad as before, but you still noticed the way his jaw tensed and how he carefully curled his fingers like he was testing them.

"... Does it hurt?" you asked softly, watching him.

Mike glanced at you, blinking, like he hadn't expected the question. Then he snorted, shaking his head. "Nah. Feels fine."

"Mike."

He sighed, rolling his eyes but smiling as he lifted his hand, wiggling his remaining fingers. "Look, I can still flip people off. That's what really matters, right?"

You gave him a flat look.

Mike chuckled, stepping closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. His voice was softer now, lower. "I'm good, babe, Promise."

You let out a slow breath, still unconvinced, but before you could argue, Mike smirked again, reaching down to tug his jeans back up. "Damn. Y'know, you really are somethin' else," he mused.

You eyed him warily. "Why do I feel like I'm about to regret asking why?"

Mike grinned. "Because. You're sittin' there, lookin' all blissed out after I rocked your world, and somehow, the first thing you're worried about is my fuckin' hand."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I take care of my dumbass boyfriend. Sue me."

Mike let out a low chuckle, leaning in to nip at your jaw. "Yeah, yeah. You love my dumb ass."

You scoffed, swatting at his shoulder, but he caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm before releasing you.

"... Yeah," you admitted, voice quieter. "I do."

His smirk softened into something more genuine, his fingers curling under your chin to tilt your face up to his.

"Good," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. You smirked, brushing your thumb over his jaw.

For once, Mike didn't have a snarky reply. He just kissed you again, slow, deep and lingering before pulling back with a lazy grin.

"C'mon," he said, offering his good hand to help you up. "Let's get outta this bathroom. Chris should have come back already by now."

You laughed, taking his hand, letting him pull you to your feet.

Yeah. You were stuck with Mike Munroe.

And honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

[theemissuniverse]

“ALL YOU WANTED” EMILY DAVIS X TOUGH! FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You and Emily are best friends…but best friends always means something more these days right?

WARNINGS : lesbian smut

A/N : this takes place when they all go back to the cabin.

It hadn’t even been an hour of all of you coming up to the mountain and you were witnessing Emily Davis and Matthew Taylor break up.

All because she had went to see Michael.

Despite you being Emily’s best friend, you could see where Matt was coming from. Getting caught having a conversation was not a good look.

You were even surprised at Emily being your best friend but the two of you were the meanest people in your own way so it kind of made sense.

You were made her best friend by force though in ninth grade where she forced you to sit with her at lunch because she thought you were pretty. Now you two were besties.

For better or worse? You’d have to find out.

“God, Matt! It didn’t mean anything! Get over it!”

Mike raised his hand as if he was in the classroom. “I can vouch for that. Trust me, I do not want her anymore.”

You were sitting in a chair, eating a cookie, watching the whole scene play out. You knew something was going to happen and you didn’t know if you wanted to stop it or keep it going.

Emily angrily turned to Mike at the statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think he means he doesn’t want to fuck skank anymore.” Jess replied for Mike.

Not only could you not help but comment because you were Emily’s best friend but because you always had to make your own remark of common sense. You finished your cookie and dusted your hand off. “If that’s the case then why is he fucking you?”

Emily had laughed at what you said and bit her lip to hold back her smile. Matt shook his head, rubbing his temples in irritation while Mike just did a whistle and looked away from the situation.

“I’m sorry? Did I ask you to bud in Ms. School Drop out?” Jess asked you while standing up from the couch where she was sitting next to Mike with.

“No but something told me that you needed a reality check and well, here I am to give it to you.” You told her, brushing off her calling you a drop out with ease.

“Don’t you find it a tad bit pathetic you follow Emily around all the time?”

“No. But what I do find pathetic is you not having any men to choose from so you chose your best friends man.”

“Last I heard, your relationship is dead so you don’t get to tell me how to live mine.”

Emily had watched the whole argument, entertained because you were winning. Up until the last remark Jessica said and she didn’t think she could go lower.

Beth was your girlfriend a year ago. Before everything happened. You had blamed everyone for a long time. Healed from it. Even from Emily. Emily apologized multiple times, which was unlike her to be honest and you forgave her.

This is why you never forgave Jessica because here she was, throwing that in your face.

The room felt silent. As if they knew the damage Jessica had done.

You stood up slowly from your chair then began to walk towards her. “You wanna try that again?”

Jessica gave you a deadpanned look. She would be a little scared but she knew that Emily would stop you before you hit her. So she kept going. “Don’t talk about saving people’s relationships when you couldn’t even save your own.”

Emily saw your fist balled up and instead of you hitting her, you gave her a warning push. A push so aggressive, it landed Jessica back on the couch. “Hey!”

As much as Emily wanted to see you kick her ass, she knew it would be trouble. It wouldn’t be the petty cat fight that she knew she would face up against Jess. You knew how to fight and you knew how to hurt her.

Jessica came from a wealthy family and Emily did not want to see you go to jail for a petty argument.

Emily immediately got in between the two of you. Then stood right in front of you. “Calm down. She’s not worth it.”

Mike brought Jess towards him. “Both of you, stop it.” He said.

“I can’t do it.” You said. “I have to hit something.”

“Just relax.” Emily told you. “Breathe. It’s going-“

“See, Emily. All you do is bring drama and I’m sick of it.” Matt started to say. “Look what we’re all doing! Because of you!”

You had chose your target. You turned around, facing Matt. Then you gave him your best punch. Him falling to the ground and him holding his mouth.

“(Y/N)!” Emily scolded you.

You ignored her. Then you left out the back door.

You needed some air and were fine if you had to freeze to death in order to get it. You hated the way people got in your head. You were a hothead and it got the best of you sometimes.

Emily was right behind you. “Hey! (Y/N)! Slow down!”

You sighed and stopped in your tracks, allowing Emily to catch up to you. “Look I’m sorry I-“

“I don’t care, meat head! Put this on.”

You looked to see it was your jacket that you had left in the lodge. You grabbed your jacket and started place it on you.

Emily looked down to your hand and saw the bruises on your knuckles. She shook her head and placed a hand on her hip. “You really did knock the shit out of my ex boyfriend didn’t you?”

You sighed, feeling guilty of your actions. Emily was the only person who could make you feel guilty. “Look, Em I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have hit your-“ Then you had thought about what she said. “Did you say ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah I did. He’s too soft for me obviously and I don’t have time for that. And he left my bag with all my expensive clothes in it! That idiot.”

You knew the two wouldn’t last that long but that was pretty fast you had to say.

Emily grabbed your hand and started to lead the way. “Help me look for it.”

“Ugh. Why do I gotta help you look for it?”

“Because I said so!”

You knew best not to argue with her so you let her lead the way. Besides, you weren’t going to let her be out by herself anyway.

The two of you walked to the picnic table area. Emily looked over to one of the tables and saw a carving. She dusted the snow off and saw your initials with Beth’s.

She felt jealousy when she had looked at the carving but knew she had to swallow it. “Wow. You must’ve really loved her huh?”

You were confused. You walked over and saw the carving for yourself and remembered. “Oh…that…” You leaned against the picnic table, looking down a little. “I liked her. A lot. Can’t say I loved her though. It takes a lot for me to do that.”

Emily nodded at your choice of words. It made sense. You’ve had a lot of girlfriends before Beth and you had never really loved any of them. Love was a hard thing for you and she understood that.

You decided to change the subject. “What’s so important in this bag anyway?” You asked her.

Emily smirked when you had questioned it. “Oh just my undies. The lace ones.”

You raised a brow when you had noticed the flirty tone in her voice. Emily would always flirt with you but you had always considered it to be friendly flirting and nothing romantic attached to it so you played along.

“Well we don’t need those.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily was actually flirting with you. She had always had a secret crush on you but was too scared to do anything. Also, she was used to people hitting on her. Not her hitting on other people.

“You don’t want me to model them for you.” Emily asked you. She did a little spin so you could examine her body.

Your eyes darted all over her and it was at this point you were starting to realize that you also flirted with her more than the friendly way. “I’m just going to rip them off of you anyways.”

Emily had did something she never did before. She took a step towards you. Then grabbed your hands and made them be on her body. “You ever done it outside before?”

You were intrigued at how far Emily was willing to go to just play flirt with you which was confirming in your mind that she was serious. But how could she be serious? You two were just friends.

You had laughed at her question. “Have you?”

“No. But maybe I want to.” Emily went to tug at belt of your jeans which made you groan a little. You felt her breath on your neck and her kissing softly. “I cant with this on though.”

You moaned at the soft kisses that she placed on your neck. Yeah. She definitely wasn’t playing anymore.

Emily pulled away from your neck. She looked you directly in your eyes. You pushed away the hair that was in her face. She looked so beautiful to you.

Emily leaned in and kissed you on the lips. You didn’t hesitate. You cupped the back of her neck with your right hand and kissed her back.

You used your left hand to place on her hip and bring her closer. Emily moaned and continued to kiss you like she was hungry. She had been waiting for this.

It was freezing out but the two of you didn’t feel any cold. You were in each other’s warmth.

You just had to confirm something. You pulled away from her lips. The two of you slightly out of breath. “Wait a second.” Emily looked annoyed at you for stopping but waited for you to ask her what you needed. “Are we straight girl kissing or gay girl kissing?”

Emily shook her head at how unserious but serious you could be. “The second one.” She confirmed before going straight back to kissing you.

That made you more bolder in your movements. You picked Emily up by her ass and made her legs wrap around your waist. Emily moaned in the kiss while you sat her down on the picnic table.

Your lips went down to her neck. Instead of kissing you sucked on her sweet spots making her moan, gripping you. “God that feels so good.” Emily commented.

You pushed your knee in between Emily and made your knee make contact with her clothed area. She moaned at the friction you were going and made you pull away from her neck. “I can’t take this. Let’s go to the lodge.”

You were still lost a little. Surprised this was happening. “O-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence as Emily was already dragging you back to the lodge.

The two of you walked back into the lodge. Emily paid no mind to the people that were in the living room and dragged you upstairs, all the way to the room Emily had picked out.

When the door was closed, the two of you were back on each other. The two of you took your shoes off while you made out.

You helped Emily take her jacket off and throw in on the floor. Emily did the same for you. Emily pushed you on the bed. You sat there, watching her.

Emily’s hands went to your belt and started to unbuckle your pants. When she had finally got your pants to unbuckle, you grabbed her and laid her on the bed.

You got on top of her and took off her shirt. She was wearing a lace purple bra. You gave her a look. “All your lace underwear was in your bag huh?”

Emily giggled and kissed you. You kissed her back. You never kissed anyone the way you were kissing Emily. It was different.

That’s when you realized it was always different with Emily.

You unbuttoned her pants and helped her take them off. Her underwear matched her bra.

“Why am I the only one naked?” Emily complained while kissing you.

“It’s more fun that way.”

“Yeah, fun for you.”

You chuckled and removed her underwear. Leaving her exposed. You licked your index and middle finger before placing it on her clit and rubbing it in circles.

Emily moaned loudly. She gripped on your arm. You started off slow and teasingly. You didn’t have to do much. She was already wet from you.

You found your rhythm and started to go a little bit faster on her clit. She tried to meet your rhythm but any time she’d get too excited, you’d slow down.

“Stop torturing me, (Y/N).”

You laughed. You kissed her gently on the lips and picked back the pace. Emily moaned loudly in the kiss. You stuck your fingers in her pussy, knowing she was wet enough. The palm of your hand hit her clit while you kept the fast pace.

“God, (Y/N). Yes.” Emily tried to quietly moan but came out of extremely loud. It’s like she didn’t care to be quiet and wanted all the pleasure she could get from you.

Emily’s hands went to her chest. She held on to her chest while throwing her head back. You regretted not taking off her bra before starting.

Her clit constantly bounced off from the palm of your hand and Emily felt herself getting close. “Wait. I’m almost there. Stop.”

You kissed her on the neck. Licking and sucking on her sweet spots. “Why stop? I want you to cum on my fingers.”

Emily moaned at your words. “I want you though.”

You understood what Emily was trying to say and pulled away from her pussy. Then licked your fingers clean off. “Mmhm. I kinda want you to sit on my face.”

Emily shoved your shoulder, making you laugh. “No, (Y/N). Come on. I want you.”

You took off your pants. Then slid off your underwear and threw them somewhere. Emily was about to place her fingers on your clit but you stopped her. “Trust me, I’m already wet from you moaning.”

Emily bit her lip smiling and you got on top of her. You made sure to position your clit above hers before looking at her. “This is not how I expected to spend my weekend.”

She took off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. “Isn’t this so much better?”

“It is.” You couldn’t deny. You kissed Emily on her lips again before placing your clit directly on top of hers. The you were moving slowly.

You knew Emily all too well because you were best friends which meant you knew Emily never had sex with a woman before. So you tried moving slowly for her.

Emily was doing exactly what you knew she would do. Getting sensitive quickly. Emily let out a sharp moan. She clung onto your body, not expecting to be so sensitive. She was whimpering, pleading for you to get her to cum.

“You sound so sexy.” You told her. You tried to ease her in by kissing her lovingly all over body.

“Don’t stop. Oh god, yes.” Emily was practically screaming and you should’ve figured she would by how sensitive she was.

“Your boyfriends might hear you.” You jokingly said to her while kissing all over her body.

“I don’t care. Just get me to cum all over you. Please.”

You could’ve came off her just moaning for you. You should’ve figured Emily was submissive. She was a brat. You gripped onto her leg and went faster. Your pussies colliding against each other. Making the both of you moan in pleasure.

Emily’s hands felt like fire on your body. She unclipped your bra from the back and threw the bra on the floor somewhere.

As you kept your pace, you noticed Emily staring at you in awe. You tilted your head at her. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

You weren’t expecting her to say that. You bent down to give her a sloppy kiss on her lips. She returned it.

“Mmhm. (Y/N). Let me get on top.”

You pulled away from her warmth and laid down on the bed. Emily got on top of you and placed her pussy back on yours. You chuckled at the gasp she had let out. It was far more sensitive for her to be on top than you.

“You sure you don’t want me on top?” You teased a little.

“Shut up.” Emily more so moaned and started to move on you. She didn’t go slow though. She went back to the fast pace you were doing.

You moaned, hugging onto her hips and helping her move. “Shit. Keep going. Just like that.” You went to unclip her bra and when you did, you immediately started to rub her titties.

Emily moaned at you playing with her nipples while trying to focus on her pace. “Oh god. (Y/N).”

You noticed Emily was losing her pace so you went back to her hips and helped her move on you. “Come on, baby. Move your pussy on me.”

You calling Emily baby turned her on and motivated her to move even faster on you. “(Y/N)?”

Noticing she was asking you something and not moaning your name, you nodded, still feeling immense pleasure. “Yeah?”

“When I make you cum on my pussy you’re going to be mine.”

You knew that was Emily’s way of asking to be your girlfriend but she was always the demanding type. You closed your eyes, feeling yourself become closer to release. You gripped her hips tighter. “You make me cum, you can have anything you want.”

Emily’s hands reached to your chest and started to play with your titties. You moaned at the touch. “I’m so close.” She told you.

You watched Emily’s chest bounce up and down. You couldn’t help but lick your lips. Seeing it was starting to make you close. “Keep going. I’m almost there too.”

Emily whined at how sensitive she felt herself start to get. You notice her slowing down some and you were so close you didn’t even want to help her anymore.

You flipped her on the bed and quickly got back on top. Your pussies continued to make out with each other. Wetness was heard all around the room and was even starting to go down your leg.

“(Y/N), I need you.” You felt Emily’s nails claw at your back and you knew it was only moments before she came all over you.

“Cum all over my pussy, baby. You can do it.” You said while kissing on her neck.

“Oh, god. (Y/N). Yes.”

You felt yourself coming undone, closing your eyes. “Fuck, Emily.”

“Yes, yes. I’m cumming. Oh god I’m cumming. (Y/N).”

You felt yourself cum and Emily was following right behind you. Your pussies became so wet that the juice soaked the bed sheets.

You continued to move until you knew both of you were done. You got up from her and laid down next to her.

Emily grabbed the blanket and placed it on top of the two of you. “I can’t believe I waited that long to do that.”

You chuckled before nodding. “Yeah. Me too.” You turned to look at her, seriously. “So…how do you wanna play this?”

Emily sighed, knowing what you meant. “They’re all just drama filled. I just want to stay up here with you.”

“It’s gonna come out. Especially at how loud you were.” Emily hit your shoulder at what you said and rolled her eyes.

“Well they’ll just be mad they couldn’t get me to scream like that.” She said before kissing you.

So you were with your best friend now? Not what you expected.

[synnamon-hearts]

Hii I’m back again to ask if you could please write headcannons of how UD characters would react waking up & you telling them you had a dream of them having sex & feeling needy bc of it ?? (Assuming they’re together) 🙂‍↔️

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Ooooo, okay! 👀

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Josh ~ Ohhhhh God, Josh would be the biggest tease. It would also boost his ego by like 1000%. He has that much of an effect on you that you had an actual sex dream about him? Man, what a flex! And it was so good that you want him right now? He would chuckle at this, already sitting up and preparing to recreate the scene. He's really dedicated to recreating settings since he dreams of being a film producer.

"Awww, needy because you dreamed of me fucking you silly? Look at you, already soaked through your little panties. Lay back and let me do all the work, beautiful. I got you."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Chris ~ The way this mf would blush omfg it would make his whole year! He actually made a girl have a sex dream so intense she's ready to go as soon as she wakes up? No fucking way. Making a girl dream about you is wild enough, let alone this! He would be jumping at the opportunity to fulfill your desires as soon as you tell him what the dream was about.

"Wait, wait, wait... You had a dream... About me? Wow... Wow... This is unbelievable. Lay back. Let me do this for you. I need to."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Mike ~ Ahhh Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike... Mike... Lmao he would be SO cocky. Even more than Josh, actually. Before you can even finish telling him about your dream, he's on top of you, already kissing your neck. He thinks he doesn't have to hear anymore, since he already knows every single thing that makes you tick.

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me take care of you, baby. You like that, yeah? Yeah? Let your big strong man make you feel good. You want that, huh? Just let me do the work, baby."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Matt ~ Matt would be the biggest sweetheart over it, chuckling fondly and planting a soft kiss to your forehead. He would listen intently, a dopey and tired smile on his face as he watches you rant away about every detail that happened in the dream. And then he would ask what specifically you would like him to do for you to make you feel as good as you felt when you were sleeping.

"Awe that's so sweet, babe. I'm even on your mind while you're dreaming, hm? Want me to do anything for you? Don't worry about it being late and me having football practice tomorrow. You come first. What do you need me to do for you?"

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Sam ~ Sam would honestly be flattered that you had a dream about her. She would hold you, rub your back, and caress your hair as you tell her about your dream. Aw, you're so sweet and worked up right now for her. How did she get so lucky. Of course, she would want to help you in any way she can.

"Aww, sweetie. You don't have to ask me twice, okay? I'm here for you. Just lay back and relax, okay? I'll make you feel better."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Ashley ~ Y-You had a sex dream??? About her??? Wow, this is something Ashley has written about in her fanfics, but never even dreamed of it happening to her. She would be blushing wildly as you talked her through what danced in your mind as you slumbered, before bashfully asking if you want to recreate the moment in real life.

"Oh... Oh wow... I've only read about this stuff before but I didn't think it could be possible. Not for me. Would you... Would you want to do this... In real life... Like... Right now? No pressure, of course!"

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Jess ~ Jess would be shocked. Like she plays it off cocky but she didn't think this would happen. She isn't all that confident in the effect she has on you, despite what she says. So to hear this boosts her ego a little bit. She wouldn't admit it to you, but it almost made her want to cry.

Emily ~ I'm gonna be blunt, Emily would be pissed that you woke her up. How fucking dare you disturb her beauty sleep?! But to hear that it was because you were needy for her eases her frustration just by a small amount. Still, that's not gonna stop her from taking her anger out on you just a little bit in a way you crave for.

"You... You what? I-I mean, hell yeah! I bet I'm on that mind every night, huh? How about you just lay back and let me rock your world. I'll give you something to put you right back to sleep, baby."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

"What the fuc— Are you fucking serious? I need my fucking sle— Oh... Oh... Okay, fine. Just this once. Now lay still while I get the cuffs..."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[sweetheartedbylust]

Currently having mike Schmidt x sick reader NSFW brain rot cuz I’m sick *kill me* . Like man’s would be all sweet and cuddly . Even though you told him a million times not to get near you . Just softly laying in bed with you as he encourages you in your dazed state to sit in his lap ..

And before you fucking know it, he’s calling you his good girl or his babydoll as he fingers your needy cunt. Fingers hitting your g-spot just the way you like it as you slowly grind on his fingers. “ look at your needy little pussy clenching around my fingers as I rub your sweet little clit” he coos as he comes up to kiss you.

Talking about how adorable you look , grabbing at your tits as you can barely make a word . As he keeps pushing you to creaming all over his fingers .

“ yeah baby.. think about how good it would be to be cumming on my cock right now huh?.. feeling my load all up in you” and with another beg for you to cum for him , you let your juices run down his fingers . As You collapsed on his chest as he encourages you to rest on him and feel better .

* I was gonna make it stepbro! Mike Schmidt x reader but idk so y’all tell me what u want🫶🏼*

[motherofpirates]

“Dustin called he wants to have a movie night round my place. So, here I am looking for movies, because I am now apparently one his father figures.” Eddie gave a put-upon sigh that Steve recognised.

“Sucks to be you man.” Steve commiserated. “Did you walk here? You didn’t pull any stitches, did you? That must have taken you forever.”

“No, sweetheart, I did not pull any stitches. I took my time and waited for my meds to kick in before I left. I can’t get anywhere any other way, not got the all clear to drive until next week. Besides my van is still on your drive, Harrington, I hope you’re taking good care of her.”

“The best, man, she’s chilling on a big ole drive in the shade up in Loch Nora. I can take you to see her after work so you can check up on her if you like.”

Robin punched him on the arm, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking me home, dingus?”

The store’s phone began to ring, as Robin was closest to it, she picked up.

“Hello, Family Video, Robin speaking how may I help?” She made a face and shoved the phone into Steve’s hand. “It’s one of your children.”

“Yello?”

“Steve? Thank god, I need a ride to Eddie’s-“ Dustin started.

“We all need a ride to Eddie’s!” Lucas interrupted.

“I can’t believe you made Eddie walk here when he just got out of hospital last week, do you have any idea how inconsiderate that is?”

“He didn’t get hurt, did he?” Asked Dustin.

“Well, no… But that’s not the point.” Blustered Steve.

“Everything is fine then. No need to worry, wind in the need to mother-hen, Steve, he’s a big boy.” Steve rested his head on the counter and groaned. Eddie and Robin rubbed his back in commiseration.

“Exactly how many of you need a ride to Eddie’s?” There was some muttering as someone executed a head count.

“…Six…” Said Lucas.

“Can’t Nance take you in her Station Wagon?”

“She’s out somewhere with Jonathon and Argyle.” Shouted Mike.

It was Steve’s turn to give a put-upon sigh, to which Eddie and Robin laughed. Eddie began to look for movies that he thought the younger members of the Party would like. “I can’t wait for one of you little shits to learn to drive because you will be chauffeuring my ass around Hawkins.”

“You know, you love it, dumbass.” Max informed him.

“You’re not all gonna fit in my car, some of you are going to have to bike there.”

This statement caused uproar at the other end of the phone; Steve pulled the handset away from his ear as a squabble ensued.

“They have zero fucking chill.” He complained to Robin and Eddie. “I’m going to go prematurely grey.”

“We could take my van,” Suggested Eddie.

“I’ll drive.”

Eddie harrumphed.

“Hey, dingus, I still need to get home.” Robin reminded him.

“Why are you so desperate to get home, Birdie, you got a hot date?” Eddie asked from the horror section he had drifted over to; Robin threw an empty video case at his head.

“Rude.” He retorted as it narrowly missed him, he didn’t look up from his browsing.

“For your information I need to tell my parents I got into college.”

Steve was trying to get the kids over the phone to listen because they were still arguing.

“Can you guys shut up and listen for once in your lives!” He yelled trying to get them to notice him. “We’re coming to get you in Eddie’s van, you can all chill the fuck out!”

“Language, Steve, there’s children present.” Replied Dustin sarcastically, followed by laughter from the younger members of the Party in the background.

“Carry on and you’ll be the only one walking there, Henderson.” Steve threatened.

“As if you’d do that to me.”

“Want to try me, it might help with your attitude. Now where do I need to get you from?”

“Mike’s please.”

“That’s better, we’ll see you in-.” Dustin had got what he wanted and had put the phone down.

Steve groaned in frustration. “I’ll drop you off before we go to my house to get the van, Rob.”

“Make sure to make them wait, they deserve it for being obnoxious little shits anyway.” Eddie said as he brought his video choices up to the counter. “You dropped this.” He handed the empty case back to Robin.

“They get their obnoxiousness off you, you know.” She accused Eddie pointing the video case at him for emphasis as she rang up his videos.

“What can I say it’s a talent.” He shrugged.

____________________________________

If you enjoyed this snippet please head on over to AO3, my fic is entitled I Want You to Want Me.

[slayrith]

call me baby

so i love needy and pathetic men.. and a mootie of mine loves chris so here's a little chris x gn! reader fic

warning: pathetic chris incoming, stalker behavior (he gets really creepy)

Thinking about the shy, goofball Chris first meeting you- invited by Ashley to a get-together at the Washingtons, your shy and sweet greeting was all it took for you to be burned into his memory. You were so.. out of his league- from your looks to the way you held yourself- but here you were, carrying on a conversation with him.

Every question you asked about him, every smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed at his cheesy jokes- it made his heart race, and he was glad he was drinking, otherwise he wouldn't know how to explain why his face was so red.

Since that party, he couldn't get you out of his head. The captivating fragrance you wore at the party was ingrained in his memory, and he had to spend many nights... relieving himself because the thoughts of you that night were too much.

Then you started hanging out with the group more often.

Chris would stare at you more often than he'd like to admit when you all are hanging out, watching you laugh at Emily and Sam's quips, feel a strange twinge of agitation when Mike would hit on you, playfully or not. Mike always did that.. So why did it piss him off so much? He never said anything, but that lingering... anger? jealousy? had made a home in his mind. But whenever your eyes met, and you gave him that same, kind smile that you always gave, it made everything melt away- and unfortunately for the poor blonde, the way he looked at you didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

"Dude, what's up with you lately? You get all goo-goo-eyed over Ash's new friend... I haven't seen you like this since you played no-suit Samus in Smash.." Josh brought up one weekend while they were drinking and playing their usual assortment of video games at his house.

Chris was initially caught off-guard by the question. Quickly, he brushed off his dark-haired friend with a scoff, stammering a bit as he tried to quickly come up with a lie.

"Nothing, man.. Fuck- is it that obvious?" He couldn't lie to his friend, and he set his controller down as Josh paused the match, humming in agreement as he took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, man... You act like a puppy whenever they're around.. It'd be kind of pathetic if it wasn't so damn funny to watch.." Josh chuckled, brushing Chris off as the blonde huffed, nervously adjusting his glasses. He couldn't believe he was so obvious, and it made him panic wondering if you had realized it was quickly as the group's jester had.

Almost as if reading Chris's thoughts, Josh patted his friend's shoulder, sitting up a bit to look at his friend. "No worries, dude, they probably think that you're just awkward- now tell the doctor all about your symptoms of lovesickness, Cochise."

Now nearly an hour later, and Chris showing his friend the note he made in his phone about you- likes, dislikes, patterns of behavior he noticed, quirks, all kinds of things he gathered from watching you and having small bits of banter- Josh was thrown for a loop

"Damn, Chris.. You got it bad, huh?" He teased, shaking his head as he sighed. "Let's hope they never have to use your phone for anything, otherwise you're never getting game with your lab notes- And we've known them for what, a month?" Chris's face flushed at Josh pointing out his borderline obsessive behavior about you, and he rubbed his neck nervously.

"Yeah.. that's not a good sign, is it?" Chris mumbled sheepishly, making Josh shrug, a small but wicked smirk appear on his face as he spoke up.

"Nah, man.. But.. If I remember correctly, a little bird told me that your little love interest has brought you up a few times in conversation- and they have some raving reviews, if I say so myself."

Chris's eyes widened- "You're shitting me," He couldn't believe it, you had talked about him? Josh had to be messing with him, there's no way you had talked about him.

Because, well, if you did. He would've known.

While Josh was too listening in to his friend's lovestruck-rambling, he failed to consider- how did Chris know so much about you?

The answer was simple: he watched you.

While you would be running around campus, Chris was always there. Lurking in crowds with a hood up or hat on, he stayed close enough to be within earshot, but not enough for you to notice that he was there- besides, one of the things he noted was how airheaded you could be. On the surface, it seems valid- while you kept your head on straight, you did come off scatterbrained to many people. But that wasn't the reason why he noted that.

He had found it absolutely adorable how he could always be so close to you and you would have no idea at all. Sometimes, he even made a game of it- making glances your way, not hiding himself when he was around. And you never knew.

Chris was known to be quite tech-savvy, and well, you weren't exactly hard to find online- a simple search of your name was enough to give him everything- Facebook, Instagram, Twitter- not just of you, either, but friends, family, even your cute pet's insta page you made of them. If you were a class, Chris Hartley would surely be passing with flying colors.

So when Josh mentioned your birthday was coming up soon, Chris already had the perfect gift in mind- because well, he knew you.

[futterurl]

mike x reader. ik that man whines and begs in bed 👀 i’ll let you take it from there

ohhh my god you already know that man is so submissive and breedable

WARNINGS: fem!reader, oral(f!receiving), p in v, sub!mike, riding

- - - - - - - - -

you and mike took things very slow when you first became an item

you would go on cute dates, spend time with abby, kiss him every now and then, all that stuff

you would watch abby whenever he had to take night shifts, which he was truly grateful for

he didn’t have the money, and he knew you wouldn’t accept it anyway. he was determined to make it up to you

you guys hadn’t done anything sexual yet in the relationship, not really getting to that point yet

once you came home one day after dropping abby off to school, that all changed.

he was in the kitchen, reading something, then his eyes turned to you, watching you fall onto the couch

he walked over and sat himself next to you, rubbing your cheek

you talked to him for awhile about how hard it was to stay up all night, and you had no idea how he did it at his job

he looked at you, serious face

“what’s wrong, mike?” you asked.

he got off the couch, knees on the ground, looking up to you.

“i need to make this up to you” he stated

you had no idea where this was going, but you didn’t want him to feel bad about his circumstances. you were doing this out of your love for him

“mike-”

“please let me go down on you”

what

you sat there, brain barely functioning at what he just said. had you heard him correctly?

“what…?” you started, to which he cut you off

“you always do so much for me, and i know we’re together and stuff, but it still isn’t right. i want to- no, i need to make this up to you. i want to make you feel good. please. let me make you feel so fucking good.”

your thighs clenched against each other. you were getting turned on by this, but you were still hesitant

“please, i want to do this. let me make you see fucking stars”

“okay, mike. o..only if you really want to.” you said, getting excited

he was so quick to take your sweats off, looking at your lace panties

“so beautiful, you always wear these? why didn’t i do this earlier?”

he slowly took them off, wasting no time before kissing your thighs all over

he got closer and closer to where you needed him most, his pace going agonizingly slow

“please, mike…” you pleaded

he obliged, kissing your clit

he started to practically make out with your sopping cunt. your legs wrapped around his shoulders as his tongue ran up and down your folds

he was getting sloppy with it, running his tongue vigorously on your clit

and this man

he was letting out fucking breathy whimpers while he was eating you out

it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen: he was whimpering and borderline moaning as he started to tongue fuck you

he made sure you had the best orgasm of your life. he really did make you see fucking stars

now fast forward a few weeks

you guys had gotten more comfortable with being intimate

one night you both decided to go all the way

he sat on the bed, you straddling his hips, clothes on the floor

“please, put it in, can’t take it anymore. need to feel your tight cunt.” he begged

and who were you to say no to your man

you took him inside you, sinking onto his length at an agonizing slow pace

he made sure you went slow

he didn’t want it to hurt for you; he knew he was pretty big

but fuck, he just wanted to pound into you

the moans started, him letting out heavenly noises as your hips met his

he held your hips, rubbing circles by your hip bones

he was trying to help you, but was really trying to refrain from busting in seconds

once you started moving it was game over

you had him wrapped around your finger

he wanted to stay in your pussy forever, your walls fit him like a glove

“please, more, please, fuck”

he moaned incoherent babbles every time your hips met his

his hips would occasionally thrust up, succumbing to the pleasure

“g-gonna cum soon, please let me cum. please.” he was begging at this point

you sped up your bouncing, trying to take him all the way with every single thrust

he was digging his nails into your hips

“cumming, cumming, FUCK”

he shouted your name as he released spurts of cum into your cunt, followed by so many ‘thank you’s’

you came soon after

he held you, both of you breathing heavy

all he would say was thank you

you ran your fingers through his hair. you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend

[boom-butterflyeffect]

mhmgmhg, nsfw alphabet for mike munroe for the soullll.... please and thank youuhh!!

LETS FUCKING GO, MY MAN MIKE

Mike Munroe NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare

Mike is surprisingly affectionate, very cuddly. He'd be the big spoon and would rub little circles on your hip with his thumb, mumbling about how gorgeous you are.

B - Body Part (His favourite body part on himself and you)

Mike really likes his arms, including his hands too.

He likes his biceps, and just how strong his arms are in general, he also has big strong hands, perfect for [redacted].

Is Mike an ass or tits man? The answer is yes. I feel like his favourite body part of yours would be one of the two, or maybe potentially your waist because he likes how it feels to have his hands on your waist.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside. Always.

D - Dirty Secret

Jacks off to the thought of you a LOT more than you realise

E - Experience (How experienced he is)

C'mon. We know.

F - Favourite Position

Basic, but missionary. He gets to kiss you as much as he likes with ease, and gets to see your expressions, so he knows just how good he makes you feel.

G - Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment?)

We've seen the amount of "buns" jokes this guy makes, he's making dumb sex jokes and then fucking you so hard you can't form sentences to tell him how stupid his jokes are.

H - Hair

Happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail-

I - Intimacy

I think he can be pretty intimate, even if it's just a quick hookup he'll still make it feel intimate and personal, he's too charming not to.

J - Jack Off

A lot more than you realise. You'd be shocked by how often this guy has sex on the brain.

K - Kink

Begging. Is begging a kink? He just really wants that ego boost that comes with hearing you tell him how desperate you are for him, his touch, his body. Drives him wild. ("C'mon, gorgeous. Tell me what you want.")

L - Location

I feel like he would like being a little more risky in public, nothing like a full on porno out in the open, but sneaky touches.

M - Motivation (What turns him on)

Specifically, seeing you wearing his clothes.

N - No (Hard limits)

He's fairly soft, and likes to keep it that way. I don't think he'd really want anything too deep or heavy into the bdsm/kink scene.

O - Oral

Loves receiving. Will run his fingers through your hair, head tilted back, eyes closed, panting and cursing. "Fuck, atta girl/boy." Might hold onto your hair to guide your head too. I don't think he'd be too big on giving.

P - Pace

I think it would entirely depend on the circumstances, like where, when, and how horny he is. More often than not, he's charming and slow, taking his time, and making it intimate, but there could be the rare occasion where the sexual tension is unbearable, and he needs you NOW.

Q - Quickie

I don't think he would do these as often, instead he would just give little touches and stuff to tease, and get you all riled up, then when you're both free and have the time LATER, the sex will be more satisfying after being pent up all day.

R - Risk

Mike doesn't mind some risk, and can enjoy a thrill, but nothing too extreme.

S - Stamina

Oh jesus. Your poor legs.

T - Toys

I don't think Mike would own any, or use them in the bedroom.

U - Unfair

Oh he teases. Then when you're whining, he acts like he has no idea what you're whining about.

V - Volume

Mike is VOCAL <3 Cursing, panting, constant praise and encouragement.

W - Wild Card (Random NSFW HC of my choosing)

He loves leaving hickeys but does not like receiving them.

X - X-Ray (Size)

I'd say like 7.5 inches?

Y - Yearning

Honestly he's very touchy. He loves at the very least just having his hands on your waist or kissing you.

Z - Zzz

Mike will usually fall asleep not long after, with you tucked in his arms.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!

[bullet-prooflove]

San Francisco: Mike Franks x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @clarasmoon @star017

Companion piece to:

Good Boy - Mike is not a good boy.

Life Lessons (NSFW) - Mike and you don't play the games other couples do.

Count To Five (NSFW) - Mike comes home to a naked woman in his bed.

Pool House (NSFW) - You and Mike steal a moment alone at the LA Law Enforcement Conference.

Shirt (NSFW) - Mike turns up to a crime scene to find you wearing his shirt.

Love Is A Strong Word - Mike confesses his feelings after a disagreement.

Baggage - You confront Mike after he says another woman's name in his sleep.

The Written Word - Mike's world is turned upside down when he discovers a letter written by Violet before her death.

Mike shuts down after he finds Violet’s letter. That numbness, it creeps in, flooding his nervous system until all he can feel is nothing. He becomes withdrawn, surly, moody.

All that fresh grief, it doesn’t leave much room for you. He spends his nights wrapped up in his sheets staring at an empty pillow, replaying those last few nights they had together, all the good parts and the bad.

The ghost of Violet, it’s forcing you out of his life, taking up residence in the space where you once resided. It’ll consume him if he lets it, eat away at his insides until he’s nothing but bones and sinew, merely existing, but never living.

It’s why he makes the nine hour journey to San Franisco, to see the only other person who knew Violet just as well as he did, to get some clarity because Mike, he’s starting to crack underneath the weight of it all.  

When he arrives on Maeve’s doorstep, he can tell she isn’t expecting him. She’s dressed in a man’s button up shirt, one that seems vaguely familiar.

She doesn’t hesitate to invite him in, she must see something in his features from all the other times he turned up on her doorstep, drunk, bloody, broken. She responds the same way she did back then, by sitting him down, making him something warm to drink.

“What happened?” She asks softly.

Mike, he just can’t seem to get the words out, so he thrusts the letter into her hands instead. It takes her a minute to read it, it’s tough, he knows, seeing Violet’s handwriting again. Her fingertips trace over the sentences before her gaze flickers up to meet his.

“Mike, I’m sorry.” She says, handing it back to him. “I knew that she was having trouble reconciling with what happened with the Jones case but I didn’t know she was planning to leave.”

The Jones case, that was when the trouble between them had started. He’d been getting stonewalled in every direction and then Violet had come out with this thing, this silly little piece of inside knowledge that only a person who worked in her unit would know. It had been pillow talk really, a throwaway comment and it had broke his case wide open. It had also torpedoed her career because both her colleagues and the higher-ups they didn’t trust her after that.

And she…

Well she didn’t trust him after that.

He thought they could figure it out. He hadn’t realised how wrong he had been until he found that letter, tucked at the back of her nightstand, the one he was giving to you.

“It’s fucked me up a little.” He finds himself telling Maeve as he rubs his hands over his weary features. “I was in a good place and then I found that and I just… It’s like whenever I think I’m over it, it comes back. The weight of it, it settles in my chest, choking me and I…”

He sobs then and it’s a violent noise, one that drives the air from his ribcage as he clutches the letter in his fist.

“Mike.” Maeve says gently, her hand coming to rest on his. “The only way you heal from this, the only way you move forward is to let it go. Violet, she’s not here anymore but Leigh is and she loves you. You deserve that, you deserve someone who cares about you, who appreciates you, who wants to spend the rest of their life with you.”

“Is that what you did?” He asks, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. A key scrapes in the lock, the door opening to reveal Gibbs standing there, a brown bag of takeout food tucked in the crook of his arm.

Mike understands then, where he’s seen that shirt before, why Gibbs asked for a few weeks of leave after seeing that For Sale sign outside Maeve’s house.

“Yea.” She says as Gibbs steps inside, toeing off his boots. “It’s what we both did.”

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[lucydixon]

Mike Period Comfort Headcanons

Some headcanons for the reader being comforted by Mike while on their period.

Bless this poor man’s heart. The first time you get your period around him, he is not going to have a clue what’s going on. 

I don’t think he’s actually spent that much time with women other than his mom, who was doing heroin and was likely not having regular periods. He’d been blissfully unaware of the many horrible symptoms that come along with it and would probably think you’re dying if he came over and found you curled up in a ball in bed, clutching your lower stomach in pain. 

He’d rush over to your side, hands hovering over your tired body, not quite sure what to do. ‘What’s wrong?’ he’d ask, wide-eyed, ‘are you hurt?’  You’d glance up at him and see that he was panicking, so you’d explain that you’re just on your period and you’ve got cramps. 

I think he’d get all blushy and weird about it at first. All he really knows about this kind of thing is what Sicky and Leff tell him, which isn’t necessarily accurate. All he knew was that he should be trying not to piss you off and that you were probably going to start crying at some point.

But then he’d be confused, because you aren’t angry with him, or crying. You’d just look like you’re hurting real bad. 

He’d ask you if he could do anything, feeling a little helpless, and you’d tell him that you’d love some tea. He’d jump at the chance, eager to feel like he was doing something useful and come back with hot water and a bag of every kind of tea in the house. 

I think Mike would be good at helping you get comfortable. He’d go fetch you anything you needed, and would let you lie on him in any way that you wanted, even if it isn’t the most comfortable for him. He’d rub your back and watch movies all day with you, cuddled up in bed. 

If you sent this man to the store to get you pads or tampons, no matter how well you explain what to get, he’d be so fucking confused. He’d stand there, looking at the vast selection at the closest pharmacy, for long enough that someone would ask him if he needed help finding anything. He’d tell them no and would probably get a little embarrassed before calling you, sounding frazzled as he spoke into the phone in a hushed voice. 

“Doll, there’s like a million different kinds of these fucking things and I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at.” 

“Okay, well what size? They don’t have normal sizes on them- They’ve got random fucking letters on them. You know, like this one’s got a L, on it, but I think it’s the smallest one. That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Are you sure? Im gonna send you a picture- wait. I should’ve done that in the first place!” 

He’d come back all huffy and embarrassed telling you all about how he swore that the lady on the other side of the aisle was laughing at him while you were on the phone and how he’s gonna make the photo of the box your contact photo in his phone so it doesn’t get lost in his camera roll roll for next time. 

Overall, I think that Mike might be a little awkward about it at first, but he’d be ready for it the following month and every month after. He’d get a little better about handling it every time, and eventually, he’d get the hang of it. He really is just doing his best and would do anything to make sure you felt cared for. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[m-jelly]

How would it go if flirty Mike offered to fuck reader to sleep cause she’s stressed from college finals and she says yes?

Smart girl

Mike x fem!reader

Modern AU, uni life, couple, teasing, romance, Mike joking around, kissing, fluff, suggestive moments, suggestive words.

Mike sees that you're stressing about university finals, so he decides to take your mind off things and joke around by suggesting intimate things. You tell him off but have a bit of a laugh with him.

@mari-zs

Mike almost glided when he walked because of his long legs. He had finished for the day and was returning to the house he shared with you and his mates. He knew that most of your time was spent studying and ensuring all your essays were written and ready to be submitted.

He slipped inside the house, kicked his shoes off and raced upstairs. He softly smiled when he heard some relaxing music coming from the bedroom. When he slipped inside he saw you typing away with your brows knitted together.

"You look so sexy when you're so focused."

You glanced over at your boyfriend. "Welcome back, Mike. Lectures okay?"

He put his bag down and hummed. "Was okay, little kitten." He moved closer to you and slung his arms over your shoulders. "When is this due in?"

"Next week." You patted his arm. "I really gotta focus, okay? I want to get it done."

He bit the top of your ear. "Take a break. You're stressed."

"I am, but I want to get this done."

"How much left?"

You hummed. "I just need to sign it off with a paragraph or two. A conclusion basically, but I'm stumped."

He lightly rubbed your stomach. "Well, you should take a break and gather your thoughts. Taking a break is a good thing."

"I know, but if I don't get this done I will stress a lot more."

He chuckled a bit before licking your neck and biting. "I can take your mind off of stress."

You sighed. "I doubt it."

He moved his hands up and lightly touched your chest. "Well, there are a few ways to release stress. You can meditate, listen to gentle music, nap and even play games."

You leaned back against him. "I could, but my mind would keep returning to work."

He kissed your neck and then nipped your ear. "How about a sensual massage?"

You laughed. "I doubt you can stop yourself."

"I can be a good boy."

You snorted a laugh. "Sure, sure."

He released you, placed his hand on your desk and leaned. "You awful cocky for a stressed woman."

You smiled as he smirked at you, you knew he was playing. "You're awful mouthy for a tall, rough and tough horny man."

"Oh, so you figured I was horny."

You stood up and poked his chest. "When are you not horny."

He tilted his head. "You have a point." He eyed your body. "You know what? Why don't I fuck away the stress? When I'm deep inside you all you can think about is me and not some paper you have to do. You'll relax a lot and have a nice nap after."

You grabbed his shirt and yanked him close. "You better be a man of your word, Mike. I require a good hard screw."

He purred at you. "You know very well I'm a man of my word."

You walked backwards to the bed. "Prove it." You ran your finger down his chest. "Seduce me."

He lifted you up with ease making you gasp before laying you down on the bed. "Good girl."

You blushed a little. "No fair."

He ran his big hand slowly up your thigh. "I love you."

You whined a little. "Mike...I love you too." You kissed him and hummed happily. "Help me relax."

"Promise."

[catierambles]

Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 2

It was several hours later by the time August and Geralt got back, the sun cresting over the horizon. Sy stood in the doorway of the cabin as they got out of August’s truck, seeing them slow briefly when they saw the strange SUV parked with the rest of the cars, August pointing to it with a questioning look as they approached the cabin.

“That’s why I called you guys back.” Sy said and they went into the cabin. “Here’s the deal.” He started at the beginning, August and Geralt listening as the events of the night were laid out and there was a long silence when he finished.

“Where is she?” August asked, his jaw clenching.

“In Walt’s room. We cleaned her up and made her comfortable.” Sy said.

“Mike?” Geralt asked.

“In his room, hasn’t left it since he and Walter came back with her things.” Sy said.

“Mike!” August barked out and there was a pause before they heard a door open and Mike came down the stairs slowly, pausing at the bottom when he saw them.

“August, he’s already been beatin’ himself up over it. Don’t need you tearin’im a new one on top of it.” Sy said.

“Michael.” August said evenly and Mike flinched. “Calm down, you’re fine.”

“Really?” Mike asked.

“No, not really. To say you fucked up would be an understatement, but you’re already paying for it, so there’s nothing I can do that’ll add to it.” August said and Mike swallowed heavily, his eyes closing. “What’s her name?”

“Samantha.” Mike said, “Samantha Graves. We found an ID in her stuff, she lives a couple hours south.”

“Did she wake up yet?” August asked but he shook his head. “Geralt.” The other man just grunted, heading up the stairs with them in tow. Walter was standing outside of his room and he pushed open the door at their approach, light from the hallway streaming into the dark bedroom. They stopped as they saw her laying there on the bed, her chest rising and falling gently with her breathing. Geralt went over to the bed, kneeling next to it and looking her over after pulling back the blanket, seeing the slash marks and vicious bite on her thigh bared by the shorts, with smaller, but still severe, lacerations littering her legs. The most severe wounds were deep and ugly, but had stopped bleeding a while ago, dark lines of corruption branching off from the ruined skin. Bending slightly, he breathed in deep through his nose over the wounds, his eyes closing. He gave a hum, his head tilting to the side before he sighed and stood, his eyes opening again as he covered her back up again. “Well?” Geralt nodded and August sighed, rubbing at his jaw. “How long do we have?”

“Couple of days.” Geralt said, “Maybe.”

“And she’s absolutely going to…” Mike said, trailing off, and Geralt nodded again. “I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.” August said, “Plus side is she won’t die from her injuries, the infection will heal them and keep everything else out. The downside is that now we have a new one to deal with. Might have been better if she had died, would have been just another missing person, but this…she’ll be out until it wakes her up and we’ll go from there.”

“What do we do until then?” Mike asked.

“Not much we can do.” August said,  “Not until she wakes up.”

“I already went through her phone.” Walter said, “She had let people know that she was going to be out of contact for the next few days, so there won’t be any questions raised if they don’t hear from her.”

“Good,” August said, “Last thing we need is a bunch of state troopers stomping all over these woods looking for her.”

“We should leave’er to rest.” Sy said and they filed out of the room, Walter closing the door gently behind them before they went their separate ways.

A few hours later after getting some sleep, Sy knocked on the door to Mike’s room but didn’t get an answer so he eased the door open, seeing the young wolf laying on his bed with his eyes closed, ear buds in his ears and the headphones hooked into a phone he recognized as Samantha’s. His head moved slightly to a beat and he watched him for a moment before he knocked on the open door a little harder, Mike jumping slightly as he sat up, pulling the buds from his ears.

“Whatcha listenin’ to?” Sy asked.

“Playlists on her phone,” Mike said, pausing the music. “Trying to get a feel for her from her music tastes.”

“Anythin’ good?” Sy asked and Mike shrugged.

“A lot of dark techno and EDM, some rock and metal, even a couple of boybands.” Mike said, “Pretty varied, to be honest.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that.” Sy said and there was a pregnant silence.

“I ruined her life, didn’t I.” Mike said and Sy sighed, walking into the room and dragging the computer chair away from the desk, sitting down in it heavily.

“Mike, this isn’t your fault.” Sy said.

“How isn’t it?” Mike asked, “I lost control, Sy. I attacked her. I almost killed her and now she’s not even human anymore. Geralt would be more than justified taking me out back and putting a bullet in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say shit like that, Mikey.” Sy said, leaning forward in the chair.

“Why not? That’s the only way to deal with a Feral, right? There’s no saving them, no turning them back, might as well put them down for everyone’s sake.” Mike said.

“You’re not a Feral, Michael.” Sy said, “The fact that you’re killin’ yourself over this whole thing proves it. Listen, she’s strong. The fact that she lasted the night with her injuries says she’s a fighter. I don’t know how she’s gonna to take to this life, not everyone is cut out for it, but she won’t be alone, we’ll help’er adapt as much as we can. That’s a hell of a lot more than other people have had who went through somethin’ like this.” A shudder ran through the room and they looked towards the open door, getting up from their seats and heading down the hall to Walter’s room. Sy eased the door open and their eyes immediately moved to the empty bed, the covers flung away.

“Samantha?” Mike asked, walking into the room slowly and there was a small sound, making them look towards a corner, seeing her sitting there with her knees against her chest, her fingers in her hair as she held her head, rocking back and forth slightly. “Samantha?”

“It’s so loud.” She said, her voice small. “The howling, I can’t get it to stop.”

“Mike, go get Walter.” Sy said and Mike ran from the room. He went to her slowly, kneeling next to her and putting his hands on her arms. “Samantha, can you hear me?”

“Where--where am I?” She asked.

“You’re safe, darlin’, you’re safe.” Sy said and when she picked her head up to look at him, he was momentarily struck by the vivid color of her eyes, almost glowing at him through the dark of the room. He could feel her wolf pushing at him, pulling at his to come to the surface and he closed his eyes tight, stamping it back down again with a clenched jaw. When he looked at her again, he saw her wolf bleed into her eyes, making them even more vivid.

“Sy.” He hadn’t even noticed Walter come into the room, hadn’t seen him kneel next to her, too focused on the woman in front of him.

“What happened?” She asked and Sy and Walter exchanged looks.

“You were attacked.” Walter said and she looked at him. “One of ours brought you here and we’ve been watching over you.”

“Attacked?” She asked and he nodded. “By what?”

“Do you think you can stand?” Walter asked and there was a pause before she nodded and they stood as she did, wavering on her feet slightly.

“How’s your head?” Sy asked.

“It’s quiet now, thank you.” She said and he nodded. She suddenly shrank back, looking towards the open door and they followed her gaze, seeing August and Geralt standing there, staring at her. August approached her slowly, keeping his eyes on her and there was a shift in the room before she looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her own.

“Walker.” Walter said, “Now’s not the time.” He didn’t seem to hear him and tension in the room built the longer they stared at each other before it was broken as Mike pushed past him, pulling Samantha into his arms and holding her tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He chanted into her shoulder and there was some hesitation before she wrapped her arms around him, patting and rubbing at his back.

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but okay.” She said and he pulled back to look at her.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” The sounds of scrambling over dirt and he was over her, skin splattered with blood, her blood. “What did I do? The others are going to kill me, oh god. Please, please don’t die.”

She pulled away from him almost violently, backing against the wall, and putting her hands out as he reached for her.

“Don’t--don’t touch me.”

“There it is.” Sy said, “Walter.”

“I got it.” He said and approached her slowly, hands up as the others backed away, giving them room. “Samantha. Samantha, listen to me.” His voice had taken on a strange timbre and she looked at him, “Listen to my voice. Focus.” Tension started to leave her bit by bit and he reached out, holding the side of her face gently. “Breathe. Focus.” Her breathing became steady and even. “We're going to help you, okay? You're safe. No one here will hurt you.”

“But--”

“I know.” He said, his brow furrowing slightly as she was able to push past the hold he had on her, even slightly, “It was an accident. It wasn't done out of malice. He won't hurt you again.”

“Never.” Mike said, his voice low.

“You must still be tired,” Walter said, getting a nod. “But you also need to eat. You've been through an ordeal and need to regain your strength. Sy is going to stay here with you while Mike and I make you something to eat. Do you have a preference?” She just shook her head. “Okay, we'll be back. Sy?”

“I got’er.” He said, keeping his voice even. “Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you back to bed.”

“O-okay.” She said, going with him as he moved around the others.

“Walker,” Sy said, “Get lost. We don't need you swingin’ your weight around right now.”

“Bryan--”

“Leave.” Sy said, “She's got enough to deal with right now, don't need your ego on top of it.”

“Fine.” He said and left without another word, Walter and Mike following him out.

“Geralt, I could use your help keepin’ her focused.” Sy said and he nodded, reaching out and pulling a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Geralt?”

“It’s nothing.” He said, shaking his head as his hand dropped and Sy gave him one last look before turning his attention back to Samantha.

“Come on, baby.” She seemed almost in a daze, getting back into bed with Sy on one side and Geralt on the other.

[lexxspark]

Mike Schmidt Blurb: Nails

Nightmare trope! Mike has a nightmare while you guys are in bed and you find the best way to soothe him back to sleep.

A/N : I can’t escape my roots, I always eat up the nightmare trope.

Tags: established relationship! Hurt/comfort of course and mike x caring!reader

not proofread🙌🏻

You lay in bed peacefully asleep until you hear faint whispers and whimpers coming from the man sleeping next to you. At first you don’t think anything of it. It’s only when you hear a quiet sob and then a whisper of your name do you realize what’s happening.

Your boyfriend of a few months, Mike, had a horrible past. His brother went missing and he carries the guilt with him every day, his parents passing away leaving his little sister and him all eachother had. You met by babysitting Abby while he worked, then you got closer sharing hearts to hearts and opening up to eachother. He was the shy type so it was surprising that he opened up to you, but he knew it felt right. After he got up the courage to take you on a nice date with your favorite flowers and a reservation at your favorite restaurant, it was only a matter of time before he was helping you carry your moving boxes into his bedroom.

You sat up and looked over to him, his eyes were closed but his brows were furrowed In concern and fear. He was also very tense, you placed your hand on his arm and you could feel him flexing and relaxing in his sleep. He was turned to the side away from you, curled up a bit. You rubbed his arm and said his name, comforting him that it was just a dream and reassuring him that you were right here.

Mike’s eyes shot open, his breath was ragged as he sat up and looked around the room, searching for you and rubbing his eyes.

“Mike, I’m right here. Hey, you okay? Everything’s alright now love it was just a dream.” You looked at him, your hand on his cheek bringing him to look at you.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His face was in his hands now, not wanting you to see him this way. Mike has always been riddled with nightmares and that was a part of him he was scared to share with you because he was an over thinker, worried you would grow tired of comforting him and you’d leave.

“Don’t be sorry. You know it happens, happens to me too. I’m right here through everything Mike you know that. I’m not going anywhere.” You grabbed his face gently for him to look at you. You rubbed small circles on his cheek with your thumb and he was reminded of you. Reminded of how much you cared for him and how he would do anything for you.

“Come lay back down with me?” Mike didn’t even respond he just wrapped his arms around you and you fell back into the bed, his head falling on your chest. In return you began playing with his hair to soothe him, not thinking much of it.

You heard a small whine come from him as he held you closer. You quickly asked him what was wrong and he said in almost a whisper, ”Baby your nails. Feels really, really nice.” You were confused for a moment until you remembered. You had gotten your nails done with Abby while Mike was at work. Just some simple long almond shape acrylics. You were using the tips of your nails to scratch mikes scalp and hair absentmindedly.

“Oh Mikey, I’m sorry.” you said gently.

“Nonono, don’t be sorry it’s so nice. It feels so good.” He said in response, that last sentence coming out in a whimper.

You laughed a bit before saying,”Anything to help you feel better baby. Sleep good for me okay?”

“I really love you.”

“I love you more Mike, you know that.”

And with that the two of you fell peacefully back to sleep. <3

A/n : thanks for reading! Happy holidays guys🗣️

[keirawantstocry]

that one time tubbo called pac a dilf 😵‍💫

okay wait…

young teacher tubbo and dilf pac comes to collect his son from class…..tubbos got such a crush on him and maybe he asks pac to stay back to talk about richas’s behaviour but it turns into something else….

you've come to the right person (guy who is obsessed with pacbo)

Tubbo wasn't quite sure how he ended up with this job. He had never in any of his years considered being a teacher of any sort. But after he adopted his daughter, he needed a second job. Mechanics weren't paying him enough. Luckily there was a daycare nearby that was hiring. It was a more difficult process than he had expected, much like the adoption. But he got it. 

His daughter stayed with her “other father”. Tom's name was always said in a sigh like that. They were young and stupid and drunk and Tubbo didn't know what he was doing when he signed the stupid paper that Tommy had slid him across the dirty bar table. 

Tommy, and unfortunately Molly, found it hilarious. They both insisted on watching Sunny while he was at work. Thankfully Sunny loved them. Tommy would do her hair in braids. It was something they did when they were younger. Tubbo remembered sitting in fields with Tommy's older cousin braiding his long hair. 

As soon as Tommy saw Sunny's thick 3C curls, he stayed up two nights in a row researching and watching video after video of how to do cornrows and other braids in her hair. 

Molly often sent him videos while he was at work on Sunny prattling on while Tommy listened intently, braiding her hair as best he could. As much as Tubbo joked about divorce and threatened, he was glad to have two people he loved watching his child and caring for them so well. 

He closed his laptop with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. He was the last one there, his co worker had to leave because she had to pick up her own child but they needed someone to watch the singular child whose parents were incredibly late. 

Opening his eyes, Tubbo stared down the young boy in front of him. 

He was a Latino boy, probably around 7 or 8 with an oversized yellow jersey that he wore every single day. He was staring at Tubbo with large brown eyes. It was almost unnerving but he was a cute, decently well mannered child. 

Tubbo remembered the day he joined the daycare. A man with shoulder length brown hair and a singular white streak through it brought him in and explained how the boy had been born without part of his leg but was still very capable of movement with the prosthetic his Pai had made him. 

The owner of the daycare had nodded, assuring the man over and over that his child would be well cared for and that they would make sure the other children didn't say anything nasty as children tended to do. 

Richas, Tubbo remembered, as he continued to stare down the boy. His name was Richas. 

“Hello,” he said. 

The boy grinned. “Ola!” 

Tubbo laughed at his enthusiasm before picking up his phone to attempt to call the boy's parents once again. It rang and rang, like it had three times before click. 

“Holy shit, we are so sorry. Our schedule got all mixed up and we didn't know who was supposed to pick him up today. Fuck!” 

“Hey, hey,” Tubbo said calmly. “It's okay. I'm here with him. Get here whenever you can.” 

The voice on the phone that Tubbo didn't recognize took a few deep breaths. “Sim, sim, of course. Peqi is on his way already. He should be there any minute.” 

Tubbo smiled at Richas who bounced up and down excitedly, trying to climb up the front of the desk to reach the phone. “Sounds good, Mr…?” 

The voice laughed. “Just call me Mike yeah?” 

Richas made the saddest noise possible and Tubbo's heart melted. “Wait, before you go, I think he wants to talk to you.” 

He removed the phone from the side of his ear and carefully handed it to the boy who cradled it with both hands and held it up to his mouth. “OI, PAI.” 

Mike's voice came through quietly. “Oi, Richas. Você está sendo bom?” 

“Sim, sim,” the boy sang happily. “Eu sou bom.” 

“Bom menino. Pai Pac will be there soon okay?” 

“Okay, okay.” 

“Eu te amo.” 

“Eu também te amo.” 

The phone clicked, ending the call and Richas handed it back to Tubbo with a smile. Not even five seconds after the phone was back in his hand, the door slammed open. Standing in the now open doorway was a frazzled and incredibly attractive man. 

Richas ran over, bounding easily into his arms. 

“Richarlyson!” the man cooed, swinging him back and forth in his arms. He met Tubbo's eyes over his son's head. ‘Thank you’ he mouthed. 

Tubbo was almost too stunned to nod but he managed to as Richas's father slowly lowered him to the ground to step over to Tubbo. 

“I have to sign him out, yes?” 

Tubbo nodded, still speechless. He cleared his throat and slid the sign-out sheet across the desk. “Yeah, uh, yeah.” 

The man, Pac, from the signs of his scribbled signature, smiled blindingly at him, his son clinging to his leg. 

Tubbo noticed at that moment that Pac had a near identical prosthetic to his son. “You match,” he said before mentally slapping himself. You don't just fucking point out a man's prosthetic, no fucking wonder you're still married to Tommy. 

But Pac just laughed softly. “We do,” he said softly, rubbing the top of Richas's head. “He is very clearly my son.” 

“Are you his biological father?” Tubbo asked. Holy fucking shit, shut up you fucking idiot. He is so tired of you already, why are you asking so many questions? 

Pac just laughed softly again and the twist in Tubbo's chest felt like falling off a cliff. “Sim, yes, I am. I was the one who gave birth to him.” 

Tubbo stopped himself from asking any questions about that. He knew better than that at least. “That's really cool.” He tried a smile and felt so awkward. 

“Thank you,” Pac said. “And thank you for watching him past time. I know you probably have places to be.” 

Tubbo brushed him off with a wave of his hand. “Oh don't worry about it. My daughter is more than happy to spend more of their time with her ‘other father’.” Out of instinct, he raised his hands and made quotation marks with his hands. 

Pac raised an eyebrow curiously. 

Tubbo flushed. “A, uh, friend of mine. We got drunk married and now my daughter considers him her other father.”

Pac laughed. “No spouse of your own then? One that you're in love with anyway?” 

Tubbo flushed darker. “Ah, no. Just my husband and his girlfriend.” 

“Mmm,” Pac said, leaning over on the desk. “Good to know.” 

Tubbo froze in his spot as Pac's eyes, big and brown just like his son's, stared into his soul. He gulped before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uhmm, yeah.” The heat of his face was nearly unbearable. 

Richas gently smacked his dad on the leg. “Oi, stop that.” 

Pac leaned back, holding his hands up with an innocent expression. “What?? What?” 

The little boy glared at him with no heat. “Pai Mike told you to stop that.” 

“Well, Mikey isn't here right now is he? And he also has no control over my life.” Pac turned back to Tubbo and grabbed the pen again. He motioned towards Tubbo's arm which he held out willingly. 

Quickly the man scribbled a number onto his arm, his grip strong and warm. Tubbo felt dizzy. 

Pac dropped the pen with a smile and a wink before grabbing his son's hand. “Call me yeah?” 

Tubbo stared in disbelief, red as a beet. “...yeah,” he said softly as Pav happily bounded out the door, his son berating him in Portuguese. 

“Tommy,” he said softly when he got home, holding up his arm. “I think I got hit on.”

[lundenloves]

⇀ ¹ “𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐇𝐒.”

〔 you’re slotted right into the service of doctor john price, an elite head of division and self titled marmite character — you either love him or hate him. you personally can’t quite decide, but he knows for certain that you’re not for him. what will you do after being forced to learn under his wing? 〕

˗ˏˋ and so we start a new series. doctor!price is slowly going to plague the price x reader tag, and i will not be blamed for the thirsty author notes. i’ll create a series masterlist at some point but this is just to see if anyone actually reads it and/or even likes it. but then again, who doesn’t like a sarcastic man?

⇀ 3.1k | mentions of medical procedures + blood | f!reader nicknamed ‘rev’ (later on)

masterlist | taglist | request info

Another day, another fucking alarm. Another day, another flurry of issues, problems and carnage upon barely setting one foot in the door. It was disgusting really, the way each and every nurse greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome. He wasn’t sure if it was because the shift change was now upon them or if he himself, the ray of unprecedented sunshine, was there. He met their words with a sarcastic smile and nod, shoving a thumbs up toward them before teeming through the busy corridor to reach the scrub room. 

“Price, do you mind—“ 

“No.” He leant against the push door, his back pressed to it with a shrug and a feigned smile of empathy. “Don’t talk to me before six.” The words came blandly, face dropping after rubbing at his nose and taking the step backward to enter the room, the door involuntarily slamming.  

Seventeen hour shift today, fucking dreadful. Six in the morning till nine at night. Was this good for his health, both mental and physical? No. Was this morally right? Fuck no. Was this even legal? Absolutely not. Though you were expected to check the boxes, turn up and chuck the scrubs on — by which, half of them had run out — welcome to the NHS. 

The depressing scrub room was the feat of many tears, all bad of course. Accompanied by the motivational posters from the early noughties, strewn across the walls about how you’re ‘saving a life’ every day, and Price couldn’t ever help but to laugh at them every shift start. Though, by the end he would be fucking talking to the walls, the small people on the posters now his delirious friends.

“Christ.” He mumbled, tying the knot of the trousers before raking around for a passably clean scrub shirt that wasn’t covered in bodily fluids. Not even the fun kind. 

The door swung open with its predicted slam, presenting a bunch of fresh faced med students who had stopped to stare at Price. “What.” He frowned, highly aware that he was standing without a shirt, white coat ditched and raking through an old scrub locker for the dispenser had run out. This was fucking poor. 

They all snapped their looks away, reduced to quiet chatter before ditching their bags and rolling their sleeves in preparation for the first day of the rest of their lives. Price would have warned them had it not been quarter to six in the morning, and had he not been half as miserable as he always seemed. 

Though all hope wasn’t lost, the clouds parted and a beautifully clean scrub shirt was found and chucked on to solidify that he, in fact, did hate his job. He was head of division, so scrubs weren’t a necessity though he didn’t fancy getting said bodily fluids over his regular clothes. “Ready for today, captain?” His assistant doctor, Mike, loomed by the door, bringing all of the noise from outside in with him. Four years ago he had coined the nickname ‘Captain’ for Price and it stuck. For those brave enough to talk to him anyway. 

“I’d rather kill myself.” Came his short reply, shoulders dropped upon eyeing Mike in the mirror. 

“Well, that’s just grand.” He held out a clipboard, hands clutched to the top and downsides of the wood. “Did you see the schedule?” 

“Why would I see the schedule?” Price’s eyes met his in the reflection before turning around to lazily snatch the board from his hands. “What am I looking at?” His eyes roamed the overly complicated excel sheet, shifting his weight to one foot before flicking through the various pages that had been clipped down. “Eh?”

“New SHO resident.” 

“And what?” He lulled, handing him the board back and stretching his back out as if preparing for the fucking olympics or alternatively, a shattering seventeen hour shift. I’ll let you decide that one. 

“She’s on your service.” 

The look of betrayal struck his face, an exasperated sigh leaving his every fucking fibre. “No she’s fucking not.” Price made it his business to let everyone know he did not like new faces on his service, regardless male or female, fucking worldclass or freshly chucked into the deep end, he did not like it. Therefore wouldn't have it. 

That was the strange beauty of being not only a white coat, but also head of division — you were almost encouraged to be a bit bratty every now and then. It was like your reward for going through the last eight years of training, because the money surely wasn’t fucking worth it. 

“Chuck her elsewhere.”

“You’re the only senior today.” 

Price shrugged his coat back on, momentarily screwing his face while rubbing at his brows. “When is she in?” His eyes remained tightly shut. 

“Seven.” 

“Till?”

“Five.” 

His hand dropped at that, pulling a slight face as if he hadn’t heard his co-worker correctly. “Ten hours?” Tilting his head to lean an ear closer to Mike, gesturing he repeated himself. 

“She’s transferring.” He instead said, hitting the clipboard rhythmically against the side of his thigh. “From Central London.” Brows wiggled, as if the mere mention of London was valued. Which for the record it wasn’t. 

Price left his assistant hanging, passing by him and holding the door open. “Monday fucking morning.” His face somehow dropped even further to accommodate for a low whistle, brows furrowed after stepping out into the upsettingly bright lights. “Floor five.” Came a mumble, lifting his arm to check the time. Six on the dot. 

“Mornin’ Price, looking like death today — spend all your weekend juggling the nurses again?” A fellow white coat teased, John spinning on his heel to walk backwards, his arms wide in feigned offense. 

“Morning would have sufficed.” He earned an echoed chuckle from the Doctor who had already turned a corner. “What’s on the books today then?” His voice returned to its flat state, and Mike passed him yet another excel sheet. 

“You’re split today. Labour ward and one theater.” He leaned over to run his finger across the paper before Price, eventually landing on an estimated time. “Two till four.” He pointed. “Joint replacement. I’ll be with you for that one, then you’ll be joined by the new SHO for a walk around.”

“Thrilling.” He replied shortly.

Mike nodded, splitting off after they had reached the nurses station to do whatever the fuck it was Mike did when not following Price like a lost dog. John leaned on the reception counter, resting his head against his arms. “Rough night, Price?”

“Every night is a rough night.” 

“Heard that one before.” Someone else chimed in from behind, coffee in hand. “Still on the coffee ban, John?” She teased, sliding the shitty paper cup toward him and Price could’ve sworn this was some type of flirting had it not been six in the morning. Which was fine, flirting was fair game, except he was usually the one doing it. 

In a dramatic statement, he’d vouched to not touch coffee again after losing a scalpel inside a patient. It was most definitely his fault and not the blend like he had whispered to the nurses after the patient had been taken for re-op by junior surgeons. “He’s still going on about that?” 

“I didn’t bring it up.” He scoffed, knocking his knuckles on the counter before leaning back and using the clipboard in his hand as a pointing stick of accusation. “Listen, it’s been rough—“

“We all know. It was the blend.” His deep voice had been mimicked, each nurse laughing and swivelling their chairs to face the man of the fucking hour. 

“I’m telling you.” He pointed once more, rounding the counter to sift through various exposed stacks of paperwork. “What’s this?” 

“I’m filing it.”

“When? Tomorrow? Pick up the speed.��� He kissed his teeth, swiping a paper cup of tea from the hourly cart. “Please.” He smiled, smearing his charm all over them and gesturing his definition of speed by rolling his hands in a continuous motion. 

“Away you go.” 

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He had a cheek really, pushing back from the station and scrunching a second paper cup to toss it in the bin with force. The reason for his cheek being, his own office. The absolute obliteration of a room that any mother would shake her head at, any sane person would form tears at, and any other doctor would take lethal punishment over. 

It wasn’t just the papers. It was the oddity of the whole room, chaotic would be your best description. Littered with miscellaneous clutter, clothes, shoes, half finished food, unrelated books and photos — some familial, some from children on wards and others completely unserious like the framed image of Yoshi on his desk. No one ever bothered to ask. 

He sat down with Mike’s clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the monitor on his desk and the fucking excel rota. Your name was underneath his, scheduled for a mere ten hours, the shift looking like an alternative to heaven had Price not signed the contract that enabled over forty hour working weeks. The frown across his brow was a sight to see, clicking around on screen before reaching the digital rota purely to find your transfer notes. Ones embedded in his higher-ups chat. 

He pulled his lip up, eyes skimming through your mere experience — fresh from med-school and training in obs and gynae, though excelled in early neurology modules. 

Your reason for transfer wasn’t listed and Price lifted a brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a grimace expression. His fingers tapped the desk in a momentous motion, each one in succession of the other after pushing his sleeve up to check the time. Six thirty. 

“Price.” Came a rapid knock on his door.

“What.” He replied, patting around his pockets for the vibrating pager that he had clicked off after standing up and opening the door. 

“They need you on—“

“I’m going.” The midwife nodded at his cut off, speed walking alongside him to room fifteen where a flurry of doctors had gathered. “Right, clear it, clear it.” He cleared his throat, pulling gloves on and pushing the door open to see another frantic scene. 

“What do we have?”

“In determination, sir.”

Price edged his way through a few nurses and introduced himself calmly, ducking to have a look at the issue after rolling his sleeves up. The head was forcing the umbilical cord down and out of mother, resulting in possible fatality if not delivered immediately. “Cord prolapse, page the anesthetics. We’ll need a maneuver.” The midwife nodded at him. “Knee to elbow, prepare for cesarean.” 

Even urgent deliveries felt almost auto-pilot for him, like zoning out and entering a catatonic state when washing his hands thrice over and thumbing two separate rounds of gloves on. “Ready?” The scrub nurse accounted for each utensil as usual before nodding to Price who returned one.

Not everyone’s six am, but all in a morning's work for the man who would rather be anywhere else. He left the theater fifty minutes later. Standing for two minutes with his bloodied gloves up, waiting for a junior doctor to assess the stitching he had made. Now, two minutes isn’t a long time but it fucking well feels like it when your hands are up. “Never seen stitches before?”

“Why didn’t you staple?” She asked timidly. 

He blinked lamely. “Because we had time.” 

The poor girl nodded, apologising for the time and allowing the team to wrap up — Price leaving the room with a sigh. His watch read seven twenty, something he tsked at as bullshit before passing the nurses station. Though, not without attention. “John.” 

“Hmm?” He looked up, brows furrowed like always. His scrubs covered in blood spats. “What.” 

Non. Fucking. Stop.

“Your SHO is here.” His eyes then trailed to you, stood with fear plastered across your face and arms tight to your chest. “Tough delivery?” She batted her eyelashes at him, making you feel like an involuntary voyeur.

“Tough paperwork?” He replied sharply, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Mike?” Eyes giving your entire frame a once over as if determining your worth right there and then. 

“Behind you.” She scoffed.

“Great.” Price turned, gesturing two hands Mike’s way for you to wander to. Much like a baby taking their first unsure steps. Though, Mike had already taken off by that point and John sighed, hands placed on his hips before looking back at you. 

“S’fine, I can just—“

Though your sentence was cut by nerves. 

Nerves and not the six foot something man before you who stood like a disappointed parent. Not that you knew where you were going with those four words anyway. “You’re the SHO, correct?” There was a crease in his brow, one that cropped up upon your bland nod. “Follow me.” He sounded and seemed physically pained by your presence, walking away down a long stretch of corridor that you swallowed at. 

Your previous hospital, while being in the center of London, was small. Surprisingly so with the amount of foot traffic that would tumble through the rotating doors every day. You’d supposed to have lucked out with that, finding your feet in one of the only central hospitals to grant you a minute in the day to fucking practice what was taught. 

Everywhere else seemed a free-for-all. 

Price pushed open a door and leant against it till you had caught up. “Sorry.” Though he shrugged, pulling his foot back and letting it slam against the wood after you had entered. 

“Scrub room.” He gestured, rubbing a finger on his upper lip for a second before turning to you. “Brats and Twats, aren’t you?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Obs and Gynae.” His face couldn’t convey nonchalance anymore than it did. If anything, you could trade the word for uncaring but that wasn’t as strong. His arm dropped back down to his side, cutting the silence you had created at the thought. 

For god given embarrassment, words refused you and Price nodded. “I read it.” A beat, cocking his head at your daze. “On your transfer form.” 

You were out of your element. Which was to be expected, sheepishly following him around after changing into scrubs. Price seemed important, that was easily gathered by his white coat and the nods he received in the hallway, his calm yet demanding tone, the seriousness in his brow and the way he offered little to no emotion in place of sarcasm. It all pointed to vanity if nothing else. 

He was doing a walk around of labour ward when you had paused to peer into a room. The sound of screaming was usual, though the open door and team of doctors around one bed was something that caught your attention. Price shifted from behind you, “How many have you delivered?”

You turned to face him, faltering at his stare. Words barely stuttering from your lip, something perhaps a child would get away with. “None.” It felt embarrassing to say amidst the chaos. “I- I never had the chance.” Seemingly grasping at straws to defend yourself under Price’s weighted eyes. 

“You’ll get a chance.” He said firmly, pulling his lip upward after leaning to view the patient room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.” Your brows collapsed at his statement after he had begun to walk away again. 

“You’re not going to help?” 

He shook his head. “They’re fine.” 

John had discarded you to the nurses after that. Retreating back to his office to put together not only a schedule but also a mental plan, accepting the fact that you were now his responsibility. Subsequently, you would also now be one of the best doctors in his service. It wasn’t a choice. 

You were now a passion project for him. Of sorts. 

He’d been busy most of the morning. Darting between sectors and floors without a break of any sort, though you’d come to learn from the nurses that Price doesn’t take breaks. Some hadn’t seen him eat in the five years they had been here. 

Fuck that you said, taking someone’s orange and leaning on the nurses desk. Food was not escaping you. “He’s always been like that.” The head midwife, Joanna, would nod upon chatting about Price. Her eyes followed him and his glare. “Morning, John.”

“Mhm..” 

“Can I ask you something?” She ticked off a few scribbled ward rounds on her clipboard, shoving it to the counter beside her. 

Price stood with his arms crossed to check the measly whiteboard of the ward, one that held all patient information in a shit spreadsheet way. You’d never seen someone look so miserable, the wrinkles around his eyes were rare for the occasional smile, but a permanent crease existed between his brows. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Personal.”

“Even worse.”

You watched from the side, rolling your orange across the counter. The only chance you’d get to eat in the next nine hours. “Must be hard, eh?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Being such an arsehole.” 

Price gave her a stiff laugh, his eyes catching yours over her shoulder. “Remember to remove the hard, shiny layer on the outside.” He nodded toward your fruit, arms expressionlessly dropped to his sides. “Need any help doing that?” Should’ve stuck to a fucking apple, maybe it’d have kept him away too.

“Point and case.” Joanna looked at him, flicking through a few pages of her discarded clipboard. “Can you check on room sixteen? I'm concerned she’s making slow progress.” 

He sighed, taking all of four steps before he had paused to stare back at you. “Let’s go, kid.” 

You ditched the orange, finding a mental note to mark that you had left it by the printer. John cleared his throat, lifting an arm to check the watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Why’d you keep checking the time?”

“Time is important.” He began, “Tell me the time without looking at your watch.” 

You shrugged and he tapped the side of his nose, pushing the door open with a grand sigh once you had reached the room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.”

“Now?” At your pointed emphasis of the adverb, Price tilts his head, watching the redness fill your cheeks. He struggled to understand how you hadn’t been given a chance to deliver yet. 

It was barely two hours into your first shift and he was already throwing you in deep. You sensed a potential pattern, “I told you you’d get a chance.” 

Fuck. 

comfortably numb by pink floyd. this’ll be a series of five or so parts, unsure yet, might take it to ao3 instead.

i’m still figuring out how i want to write this world and the characters so give it a chance, the second part’ll probably be better. + one or two nicked jokes from medical tv shows🤺

it’s unedited btw i gotta work but i’ll edit later or smth

as always always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated for boosts. if no one pats me on the head every now and then i’ll sit in a hole.

any and all cod characters taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @luvfromkat @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @mistydeyes @dilfdotgov @sofasoap @bubbyblob

[stranger-things-yapper]

The Dumbest Reason to Die - Henderhop

"Lucas, do you copy? Over," Dustin says into the radio. He repeats himself a couple of times before hearing a response.

"This is Lucas. What do you want, Dustin? It's so early," Lucas groaned before yawning into the radio.

"Good, you're awake. Can I come over? I... I need help, and I can't ask anybody else. Over."

Lucas frowned, suspicious and worried in equal amounts. He agrees, gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom for his morning routine. By the time he's done, Dustin is already at his doorstep.

In Lucas's bedroom, he observes with narrowed eyes from his bed as Dustin paces back and forth in front of him.

"What's... going on?" He asks, making Dustin look at him like a scared cat or something. He brushes his hand over his mouth, closing a fist over it and decreasing Lucas's patience.

"Okay. Okay, you have to promise me," Dustin stresses, "that what I'm about to say does NOT leave this room." He stretches his index finger pointedly towards Lucas. "Specially not Max, and even more so not Mike." Lucas furrows his brow.

"Mike? Why can't Mike know about this?"

"Lucas, you gotta promise, okay?" Dustin interrupted, eyes wide and urgent. "If Mike finds out about this, he's gonna kill me, alright? This is life or death," he gestured emphatically, "and if anyone finds out about this, my life is over, do you understand?"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Lucas raised his hands in appeasement. "I promise, okay?" Dustin took a deep breath in response. "Now what is it that is so serious you gotta wake me up this early on a Saturday to help you with?"

Dustin stared at Lucas, then pressed his eyes closed in a grimace, palm rubbing his forehead. He certainly got that from Steve.

"It's El," he exhaled, finally.

"What about El?" Lucas turned his palms upwards in confusion.

"I think," Dustin paused, eyes moving up like he was trying to decide how to say it, "I might like her."

"WHAT?" Lucas exclaimed loudly, jumping from the bed, and Dustin shushed him. "No one can hear us, you idiot," Lucas said, batting Dustin's hand away from his face. "What do you mean, like, romantically?"

"Yes, romantically, why would I call you like this just to say that I like her as a friend?" Dustin scowled.

Lucas started an interrogation while pacing around the room, and Dustin's responses overlapped his speech.

"But how did you let this happen, man?" ("I don't know") "She's your best friend's ex!" ("I know") "Mike's gonna fucking kill you if he finds out!" ("I. Know.") "And how does that even happen anyway? Why now, after all this time?" ("I don't know, okay?")

At that, Lucas stopped to glare at Dustin in disbelief. He scoffed in response.

"We've just," Dustin plopped down on the bed, "we've been spending more time together since I've been helping her with school. She was there when Suzie left," he looked up at Lucas, catching the way his face softened at the mention. Lucas remembered Dustin being a mess for like 3 weeks after Suzie's dad took her radio and prohibited her from talking to Dustin ever again. "And I was there when she broke up with Mike." Lucas took a deep breath. That was also a very chaotic moment for the Party. "I like when I make her laugh, we work well together on assignments and school projects, and I like when she shows me new movies that she likes. It's been great seeing her get more comfortable talking, and she's fucking awesome dealing with bullies, with or without powers. And now," he paused to brush him hand over his entire face a couple of times, "now I want to see her all the time, and I get disappointed when I can't, and when she looks at me or smiles at me I feel like I can't even look at her and I can't fucking breath and I-"

Dustin stopped himself, taking a deep breath and resting both his hands on his forehead to cover his eyes. After a second, he slid them up just enough to stare at Lucas, who was just standing and observing him, mouth agape.

"I need it to stop." Dustin concluded, his face more serious than ever. "How do I stop this?"

Lucas couldn't help but look at him with a mix of awe and sadness. He'd never seen Dustin like this, and he would be happy for his friend for finding someone that made him feel like that.

Unfortunately, this was the wrong girl, and they both knew it.

"Dude, you are so screwed," Lucas said, softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You really like her." Lucas sat down beside him on the bed. "That's gonna be tough to walk away from."

"I have to try," Dustin pressed his lips together for a moment. "I don't wanna lose her as a friend, y'know?" He sighed.

"I know." Lucas gave him a sad crooked smile. "I'll do my best to help you get over her." He pat Dustin on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. This was gonna be a hell of a mission.