#dennis x reader

[charliedawn]

Cam you write the slashers helping you feel better on your period? I just got mine recently and it's more painful than usual

(Warning: Hum…There’s gonna be suggestive stuff. But I’ll draw a line so you’ll know where to stop.)

The helpful ones: Michael Myers/Norman Bates

Michael wouldn’t necessarily know what to do at first. But once you give him a list, he will be the first out of the door to give you everything you want and need. He would simply grab the best of everything and hope it will be enough. Also, he would buy you a lot of snacks. And the man is built like a bull so he would carry everything without breaking a sweat and cuddle with you until you feel better—no questions asked.

Norman would not even need a list. He would rush to the nearest pharmacy to buy the medicine you need to feel better. He would also already have all the supplies you need in his motel, in some special drawer. But he wouldn’t even hesitate if you needed some specific type of comfort food before jumping into his car and getting it right away. He would also cuddle with you and kiss your forehead…

The ‘help is on the way’ ones: Jason Voorhees/Brahms Heelshire

Jason would be dumbfounded. What is a period ? But he would hug you nonetheless and tell you that everything would be alright. He would also share his secret stash of ice cream with you and warn someone in the hospital so they may give him or tell him what you need to feel better. He would not know how to find everything on his own…

Brahms would be more aware of what it is since he used to watch his babysitters VERY closely. *cough cough* So he would bring you the products they used and lots of candy and chocolates…but he wouldn’t go out to buy you anything because he would be too scared of leaving you alone. So…someone else has to do that.

The ‘am gonna do something about it but because I gotta not because I wanna’: Dennis/Five

Dennis would be scared of the stains you would leave behind if he left you to fend for yourself. So he would go, take the products that Patricia tells him to buy and come home before throwing them into your room and locking the door behind him…He would also take regular showers and disinfect your room as often as possible. Also if he is feeling generous, might throw you snacks once in a while…

Five would just stare at you with that ‘are you kidding me?’ expression and just ask you why you didn’t think about buying all that before the red deadline. He would then mumble and grumble before taking your list and teleporting to begrudgingly buy them all in a hurry. He would then throw the money on the counter to return as quickly as possible and forget all about tampons or pads or whatever other stuff women need those days…

Here is the line:

———————————————————————

Pussy-Cleaning at your Service: Freddy/Bo Sinclair

Those two would take offense if you didn’t warn them. Actually, they would have that special week circled in red in their calendar with little hearts. Those two ? Down and dirty. What do you mean you wanna be left alone ? Their snouts are already seeking like a bloodhound’s. What do you mean it’s disgusting ?! Now don’t be silly and let that magic tongue do what it does best…They are already nose-deep before you even got the chance to say a word…All I can say is brace yourself and have a happy landing.

Bye-Bye team: Penny Team

…Blood ? What blood ? Nope. No blood. Because those two would devour you. And not in the good way I am afraid…In the sharks in water kinda way. In the ‘you gonna take a long nap’ kinda way. In the ‘you gonna float’ kinda way. All nurses in St Louis are forbidden to work during their red days for that very reason.

[teagballs]

how about dennis taking care of a sick reader? maybe the reader's got a cold or a migraine or a broken leg or something.

or vice versa! dennis would be truly insufferable if he were sick or had a migraine.

sick days

a/n: hihihi love this idea so much oh my god. i hope i did it justice 🤞 dennis would be the WORST

experimenting with a new layout AND doing imagines/headcanons today !! woo !! lmk how u guys feel abt it. reblogs appreciated greatly. love ya

word count and formatting: 758 words, imagine format, lowercase

fic under the cut

----------------------------♡----------------------------

when you're sick:

- dennis isn't entirely sure how to act when you tell him you're sick.

- as your boyfriend, he knows he should be concerned and doting and attentive. but as dennis reynolds? he doesn't want to get sick too, ew.

- you know him, you know he won't want to be infected by your disgusting horrible disease (a common cold), but you are bedridden and ask him to pick up a few things for you.

- and he can at least do that for you. he makes his way to your apartment, a plastic bag stocked with pills and soup in hand. but when he swings open the door, he crumbles, finding you curled up on your sofa.

- you tell him to go home and to not get sick but suddenly he's a nurse and he's tying back your hair and pushing the strands that stick to your sweat coated forehead out of your pretty face and cooing about how gross you look.

"you should've called me if you were this bad. this feels like neglect." he says as he turns off whatever stupid reality tv show you were dazedly watching and raises his cold, cold hand to your scalding forehead. you hum at the sensation. "you look like you're near death. did you eat? of course you didn't." he talks to himself, blocking out any protests you might have.

- he'd rummage through your cupboards until he'd find a suitable bowl to microwave the soup in. you'd watch in dazed amazement, still ensure if this was some sort of sickness inflicted hallucination.

- you knew he'd feed the goddamn broth to you if you didn't take the spoon from him.

- he rambles about how your sickness is a result of "not having enough vitamins in your system" and you "need to take care of yourself" and how tomorrow he'll bring down some of the supplements he has to fight the cold.

- you try to tell him that it is only a cold and it would disappear in a couple of days, but he only argues back about how he didn't want to get himself or anyone else infected.

- but truly, he hated to see you suffering. it broke his heart when he heard your nasal-ly tone or when you'd shiver from being too cold. and frankly, he'd do anything to ensure this never happened again. even if that meant force feeding you omega 3 supplements.

when he's sick:

- dennis being sick is hell. whiny, lazy, sniffling hell. he would be denying the fact he is sick - not wanting to appear weak, of course - while also begging for you to come help him.

- unlike when you're sick, he'd immediately call you complaining about how he'd caught something, how he felt like he was dying, and how he needed you to come nurse him back to health.

- used to his theatrics by now and also feeling a little guilty hearing his stuffy pathetic tone on the phone, you make your way to his apartment.

- mac had long evacuated the apartment. now that you were in the picture? his days of dealing with sick dennis were over, good luck to you.

"what the hell took so long?" dennis groaned from his bedroom. you walk in and gesture to your tote bag of supplies.

"i don't get sick, ever. i'm perfectly well," then after a moment of silence, "i think it's something like the flu or pneumonia," dennis coughs.

"i think you just have a cold baby," you say blankly. he tuts.

- he whines when you get up to leave. he whines at you to get stuff when you stay. he whines.

- in fact, all he has done is whine. he has made zero effort to get pills for his raging headache, possibly still in denial he was sick. so you grab him a small glass of water and set the painkillers in his lap.

- he would be so slow and dramatic. just staring at the glass before him.

"i'm not helping you drink the water, dennis," "no, i know, just give me a second."

- he eventually takes the tablets, groaning when the taste lingers on his tongue.

- he's even clingy when he's sick, not wanting you to leave again. he'll claim you have to stay over and watch him in case something horrible happens while he's sleeping.

- you make yourself comfortable by his side, stroking his leg over the duvet to lull his to sleep. you have to keep up the petting motion in one hand while the other scrolls on your phone as you wait for him to wake up and start yapping again.

[unfixablebabyyy]

oml it took me so so long to finish this bc i basically had to rewrite every other sentence to make it work it was a struggle from start to finish so imma just post it so i can move on and stop rereading it 4000 times 😭

love u all sm ty for all the support i've been getting ❤️ hope u like it- just more of dennis being cringey and insane bc that's how we like him

tw: cnc, manipulation??? idk i mean i feel like this man comes w his own warnings so reader discretion

18+ minors DNI

1:00 AM on a Saturday.

I can feel the smirk on my face slip as I realize that what I just said to you isn't exactly landing like I thought it would. You frown and grab for your keys as my alcohol-soaked brain scrambles to salvage this.

"Hold on," but it's too late, you're already halfway out the door and there's a loud bang and I'm alone in the bar. The panic is paralyzing- I know I should run after you, apologize, perform some romantic gesture to reassure you that I'm just another dumb guy who says stupid shit so you'll forgive me for whatever the hell that was. Instead I stand there like an idiot, ten seconds away from ripping my hair out. It's too quiet and I'm so overwhelmed and there's still beer in my bottle that splashes out as I hurl it at the wall and it explodes into glass shrapnel.

"FUCK!"

If I could crawl out of my skin I would. I really feel like I'm going to have a heart attack but I'm sure as hell not lucky enough to drop dead right now. Why the fuck did I say that? I act so fucking weird around you- anyone else and I would be able to keep it together but you make me so nervous and sick it's pathetic. I clench my fists as my vision tunnels and I think I might be hyperventilating so I try to take a deep breath. And then I try again. And again. And then I snatch a bottle of whisky off of the bar and pour a hefty shot and slam it back. And then I do it again. And again. And my head is swimming. The shot glass hits the wall, too. I groan and run my fingers through my hair and think about how cooked I am. I'm going to fuck this up. Maybe I already have.

After a few minutes and a few more shots, I pull out my phone with shaky hands. It rings twice before sending me to your voicemail. So I call again. /Pick up/. Voicemail. Four rings. Voicemail. One ring. Voicemail. Voicemail. What the fuck? I slam my phone down on the counter and pull out the pack of Reds Charlie thinks he's hidden beneath the bar. I tap the pack hard against my palm, flip open the lid, and yank out a cigarette. My fingers fumble for the lighter he usually keeps next to the pack, and when they finally close around it, I bring it to my face- cigarette already between my lips- and strike the wheel. I take a long, hard, angry pull that puffs out almost a millisecond later. Another hard pull that burns my throat and lungs. Another. I almost cough and I'm so light headed I have to lean on the bar. I take a deep breath, put the cigarette to my lips, slowly breathe in, and close my eyes. I let the smoke roll in my lungs for a moment before releasing it through my nose. And I begin to think as I smoke.

You're probably just being a bitch, but what if your phone is dead? What if you're driving home and your phone just died and you can't find parking close enough to your apartment so you have to park a block away? I check my watch. What if some creep sees you and decides to follow you home? What if he puts his hands all over what's mine? What if he takes you away from me? The world is a dangerous place for a dumb little bunny like you, and the way you look tonight is just asking for it.

I'm out the door, in my car, and down the street so fast I remember to lock the bar three blocks away, and by then I'm already pushing 50mph so I don't turn around. I hope I put out my cigarette. Just a few more blocks and I'm at your place. I fly through stop signs- honestly, I barely see them. It starts to rain and I huff as I flip on the windshield wipers because I know it's going to fuck up my hair. Phil Collins pleads for one more night on the stereo. I'm not sure how I'm going to fix this. I hate myself. I don't know what I'll do if you leave me. I almost imagine you with someone else again, but even the suggestion makes me ill. That can't happen.

My recklessness has earned me five minutes off of the regular time it takes to get to your place, and when I roll up, I see your car right out front. Thank god. I park next to it, blocking the lane, but it's so late, no one is out. I throw on my hazards and jump out onto the sidewalk, where I make it to your door in a few long strides. I ring the buzzer about 50 times, and despite seeing the light on in your window, you don't answer, so I call your name. Nothing. Fine. Be that way. I head back to the Range, slamming the door too hard when I climb in. I roll down all of the windows- despite worrying about the interior in this shitty weather- and turn the volume on the radio all the way up. I have to take a breath and remind myself not to be too obnoxious, you wouldn't like that. So I pick a Donna Lewis CD and skip to "I Love You Always Forever". Perfect. The music echoes awkwardly down the empty street, haunting and ethereal mixed with the patter of the rain. A few dark windows here and there are suddenly illuminated, but no one comes to look. Including you. A dog barks in the unit below you, someone shouts. A window flies open and a disembodied voice yells, "Turn that shit off!" Uh oh, your neighbors aren't too happy, better come down and stop me before I embarrass you.

As the song picks up, more lights come on, and I'm not about to throw rocks at your window like a teenager so I call, "Hey, uh, I don't mean to be an asshole but it's fucking freezing out here, sweetheart."

And that's when I see your beautiful face appear in the window, softly lit by the warmth of your lamp. You look like an angel. The window is thrown open and you lean out.

"Are you fucking crazy? Turn that down," maybe a little. Crazy about you.

"I'm- I fucked up," goddamnit I drank way too much. If I was twenty years younger it might be cute, but I'm not sure this looks so good at my age. I turn the music down and you roll your eyes.

"You're fucked up or you fucked up?" You raise an eyebrow and something's got my tongue.

"Yeah."

"And you drove here like a lunatic. In the rain." Yes! See how much I care?

"I was worried about you."

"Oh, jeez thanks," you're so cute when you're mad, arms crossed over your chest, all huffy and defiant. I really didn't think you had it in you to act like such a brat, but I have to say, I like the idea of a challenge.

"You're welcome," I know that's going to make you angrier, but I chase it with a smile and you look away because it gives you butterflies.

"Call a cab, Dennis," you spit back.

"I'll call you a cab if it'll get you cunts to shut the fuck up!" a neighbor cuts in from somewhere above you, and I can see your skin flush all the way from here.

You sigh, "... I'll buzz you in," you whisper-shout, and then you're gone. God I love the people of this city. I turn the car into an alley and shut off the engine and pray I don't get towed as I jog up the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the old metal gate at your front door buzzes with the loud, low hum of outdated technology and the lock pops out of place. It takes me less than a minute to race up the stairs and down the hall to your door. I don't even have to knock- when you hear me panting down the hall, you open up and I'm met with a warm burst of pleasant smelling air as I stand before you.

"Hey."

"Hey," you look me up and down and I'm beginning to worry that you're actually going to send me home.

"I'm not that drunk," I wish I sounded convincing.

"Uh-huh," you step aside and wave a hand, "Whatever, come in, just take your shoes off."

I do as I'm told and close the door behind me and you walk over to the couch so you don't see me flip the lock, just in case. I can't believe you let me into your apartment. Just like that. I've never been in here with your consent. It smells so overwhelmingly like you when you're here in it with me. It was warm before- all those times I broke in- I mean popped in- to do my research- but your presence in it makes it feel like home. I could die here.

"Ok, give me your keys," you hold out your palm as I come over to sit next to you and I pull them out of my jacket pocket and they're in your little hand. I wish I could kiss you. I know you don't want to kiss me right now, which is fair, but I don't care. I want to wrap my arms around you and pin you to the cushions and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until you realize that you do want it- want me. You just look good enough to eat, so cute and comfortable in your domain. So vulnerable. I wish you would walk around my apartment in your panties. And you're definitely not wearing a bra under that...

"Is that my shirt?" It is. Without a doubt. You flush. The buttons are undone just above your cleavage and the skin there is rosy, too. And your nipples-

"Uh yeah, sorry. You can have it back, I'll wash it." Don't you dare. I scoot a little closer and take the bottom hem between my fingers, toying with the fabric.

"No, you look too cute in it," my heart jumps into my throat when you smile a little. "Look," it takes all of my restraint not to force you down and take your forgiveness, "Things got outta hand and..." I'm not good at this.

"Yeah... what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, I-... I've just had a lot on my mind." I can tell you're not buying it.

"Right," you pull back a little and the shirt slips from my grasp.

I cringe.

"I'm- listen, I barely remember what I said but I whatever it was, I didn't mean it."

"Right," god you're stubborn. I have to do something to disarm you, so I scoot even closer and invade your space and now we're so close our thighs are touching.

"Why don't we start over?" I ask, reaching up to cup your cheek, but you hesitate.

"Depends," you push my chest gently, but I don't budge- I don't even drop my hand- I won't let you do that to us.

"On what?" I'll play, whatever you want princess.

"Are you gonna apologize?" Except that. Not fair.

"I just did," I smile, but you shake your head and my hand falls to your lap.

"No, for real," you try to scoot back, but I snake my arm behind your back to hold you in place. Fuck, I hate this game. I really really hate this game.

"Fine," so you'll feel better, "I'm sorry you misunderstood my words."

You just roll your eyes and I knew I wasn't getting off that easy but I had to try because did I mention how much I fucking hate this game?

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry..." you're really backing me into a corner here. The longer I pause the more impatient you seem to be getting so I just suck it up and the words come out, "that I acted so..." Stop looking at me like that, "Look, I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

I gesture between us, "This."

You raise an eyebrow, and when I don't immediately elaborate, you move to stand, and I grab your arm a little too quickly and rough and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond I see fear flicker in your eyes so now I have to cave.

"Feelings. I don't- they don't exactly come easily to me. Can we just fucking start over please?" I feel so exposed. You grin.

"Fine," you concede, and I sigh because the relief is overwhelming. It's all the consent I need. It makes you gasp how hard and fast I grab you.

"Oh, thank god," I'm not sure if I say that out loud or not. Sorry, I've simply lost my patience. I use my body to tip you back onto the seat of the couch and climb on top of you, pinning you down like I've been wanting to all night. Your body feels so good in my hands. You giggle a little and try to squirm away because you think this is part of the game, which is for the best, I can't have you knowing how close I am to traumatizing you every time I touch you.

"You gonna let me make it up to you, baby girl?" I don't wait for an answer, too caught up in the feeling of your throat against my mouth. Not that it even matters. Even if you said no, it wouldn't stop me from duct taping you to this couch. I've been dying to use that tight cunt all night- in fact, this is the longest I've gone with anyone without sealing the deal- and you've given me all the consent I need to not completely ruin your faith in me. I have to admit, though, it's getting harder and harder to care. All this foreplay- all hands and mouths and light touches over our clothes for weeks has driven me to the edge and if I don't fuck you soon I might commit a felony.

You moan a little when I slip my hand up your shirt (my shirt) and grope your bare breasts, and when I tug on one of your nipples, you yelp and try to wiggle away, but I've got you. I slide my knee between your thighs and you grind against me like a good girl, panties already wet. You'll let me do anything to you- even when I make you cry, you still let me violate you. I don't know if that makes you stupid or a whore or the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You drape your arms around me and your fingers curl around the back of my shirt. The feeling of your nails raking against my skin as you pull my shirt off only adds to my desperation, and when I rip off your panties and shove two fingers into your little hole, you cry out from the pain, so I slap my hand over your mouth and for a moment I feel like I've gone too far, but then your eyelids flutter. I take a breath, try to steady myself, but you feel so good wrapped about my fingers. I want to be inside of you- all of you. I want to taste your breath and hear your thoughts and feel your heartbeat with mine.

I should be gentle- I did just make you mad enough to ghost me- but I can't help myself. I just want to tie you up and cum to the smell of your fear as I bruise your cervix. You whimper as I curl my fingers against your walls and drag them out of you. When I slide them back in slowly, you're practically gushing. I take my other hand off of your mouth and you let out a soft breath that makes me shove my thumb between your lips, hooking it and holding you by the cheek.

"I oughtta slap this pretty face raw for ignoring my calls," I coo and you clench around my fingers and I can't help but smirk a little because you're just so pathetic it's adorable. I lean down close, releasing your cheek to press the pad of my thumb against your tongue, "Whadda ya think, princess?" I purr nice and low, and you close your eyes and moan as you suck on my thumb which makes a cute little pop as it's pulled from your mouth, followed sharply by the crack of my hand against your face. Your eyes go wide- and I'll admit, I didn't mean to hit you so hard- but your cunt pulses as my fingers continue to move in and out of you.

Your cheek is bright red, and when I hit you again, your eyes begin to water and you let out a sob. It feels so good to be in control again. Your hips buck into the palm of my hand, forcing my fingers deeper and you sob again. Your chest is rising and falling like a trapped animal's, and I imagine the heart pumping inside is just as hot and soft and slippery as this pussy but I have to stop thinking like that so I lean down and kiss you hard. You shove your tongue into my mouth which was a mistake because I instinctively bite down hard enough to taste the sweet, metallic tang of your blood, but you don't pull away, you just moan into my mouth. I think I moan into yours, too, but I'm too busy coming down from the head rush of you bleeding against my teeth. It scares me how much I like hurting you. Something deep inside of me stirs. I try to ignore it.

Your fingers are tugging down on the waistband of my jeans and when I realize what you're doing, I sit up and use my free hand to finish taking them off, along with my boxers. The whole time, you're watching the fingers I have still pushed inside of you- three now- your lip between your teeth.

"You like that?" it takes your foggy little brain a moment to hear my words, and when it does, all you can do is look up at me and nod. You gasp as I pull my fingers out of you, but I have your attention again the moment I say, "Then taste."

I bring my hand up to your face and you open wide like a good little girl, taking my cunt-drenched fingers into your mouth. Your eyelashes flutter as you taste yourself. I push my fingers in further and further and further until your wiggling uncomfortably against the cushions, gagging on me. I take the opportunity to line myself up against your hole, and when you feel the head of my cock slowly begin to plug it, your eyes roll back and you moan against my fingers.

"Good girl," I whisper and grunt as I bottom out, my tip brushing your cervix. You feel so good wrapped around me it takes my breath away. You're so warm and soft and so so tight since I didn't give you any time to adjust. I take my fingers from your mouth and you suck in the sweet air I'd been depriving you of.

But your reprieve is short lived and the first few hard thrusts of my hips against yours have you gasping, face twisted in pain as I brutally fuck you. Your back arches up from the cushions, and I wrap my arm around your waist for more leverage as I pound into you. Your fingernails undoubtedly leave deep red lines on my skin as they rake across my back and down my arms and I shiver so hard I lose my pace. You wrap your legs around my waist and just as I'm bringing my hips back to meet yours, you grind into me and it makes my arms weak and I groan into your neck. You smell like your soap and alcohol and perfume and me. You haven't washed this shirt since you wore it home.

I slam my hips into you and you let out the sweetest sound- like a fawn caught in the jaws of a wolf. You're driving me crazy with how quickly you went from a raging cunt to this pitiful, wet little mess, all because I refused to let you behave like a brat. Because you're mine. Allowing me into your space, wearing my shirt, being so ready and willing to take me after I tore you apart. You pretend to be independent but the fact is you just want to be owned.

"I swear to god if you ever walk away from me again, I'll put a fucking leash on you," I hiss into your ear and you whine, "Say, 'Yes Daddy.'"

"Yes Daddy," there isn't even a hint of hesitation. You're so desperate to please me. You whimper as I graze my teeth along your neck and it's so pathetic I almost cum inside of you- I would if I didn't think it would get me into trouble. I'm not wearing a condom. I rut into you and I'm beginning to slip and I just can't get deep enough inside of you. It's throwing me into a sort of frenzy and I can't stop, even when you scrunch up that pretty little face and your breath hitches and you try to readjust. I'm so much stronger than you, and it's just so easy to pin you down and carve into you.

"Shhh, I know baby, I need it," the words tumble from my lips- fast and breathy- out of my control as my brain begins to melt and I feel my orgasm building in my base, "My sweet girl. I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

A tear squeezes out of your clenched eyes and rolls down your face and I can't stop myself from licking it off of your temple just to taste what's inside of you again. Your eyelids flutter and I can see your eyes rolled back in that pretty skull. I wish I could see your brain- know what you're thinking- live inside of you- control you.

You inhale sharply as your body tenses up and I swear I can feel your walls clench around me and suddenly you're so much wetter and I remember the taste of your blood in my mouth and- thank god- I pull out and cum against your asshole and you're sucking in air and your cheeks are so pink and I can barely breathe and when you open your eyes and look at me I feel dizzy because you're not scared or angry or hurt that it was the first time we had sex and I lost control... You're smiling at me.

You hum and tilt your head back as I stand from the couch, reach for my boxers that landed on the coffee table, and pull them on. You drape a leg over the side of the couch and I can't take my eyes off of the mess I've made between your thighs and I'm overcome by the urge to push it all inside of you- to bury my cum-covered fingers so deep into you that I knock you up anyway and then you can't leave me. Ever. A judge would make sure of that.

Instead, I make my way to your bathroom for a clean towel that I make warm with water from the faucet. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wring out the towel and I hate the way I can see every single pore in the fluorescent light. I make a note to come back at some point when you're away to change the bulb.

[oopsnewaccount]

The One That Didn't Like You/Dennis Pt. 2

Summary: Smut. Lots of it. A lil fluff too;)

Warnings: SMUT.

...

Dennis grabbed your hand, raising it to his lips and giving it a soft kiss, before pulling you gently along to his room. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you followed him, and it was as you walked that you felt the air cool the spot in your underwear that was beginning to get embarrassingly wet.

Dennis closed the door behind you, turning to you and raising a shaky hand to adjust his glasses. He turned a single lamp on, the big one by the door. It illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow. You were both so high on racing thoughts, your heartbeats deafening. It was so much you were both frozen in place. Dennis eventually crossed his room to his bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips. You approached him slowly, grabbing his hands and bringing them to the bottom of your sweater. You pushed them up, urging him to take it off of you. He did, slowly pulling your sweater off and then just staring at the result. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he took you in, his hands falling to your waist band and gently tugging your skirt and thong down your legs and to the floor. Dennis only stared at you as you stood naked before him, taking you all in. You began to get a big antsy, his lack of physical touch making you nervous.

“Do you… do you like this?” you whispered, embarrassed that you’d asked.

“I don’t know what to touch first,” Dennis admitted. “Sit on my lap? Please?”

You felt a gush of something wet between your legs at his request. “I might make a mess…”

Dennis clenched jaw. “I can deal with that,”

You laid your hands on his shoulders, the firmness of his body not helping the pool in your crotch. You brought your knees up to the bed beside his legs, hesitating to lower yourself onto his lap. Dennis grabbed your waist, squeezing gently and pushing you down to straddle him fully. You could feel his cock in his pants, rock hard and trapped under you. You couldn’t help rubbing over him slightly, reveling in his sharp intake of breath.

Dennis nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, trailing down to your collar bone and then to the space between your breasts, and then slowly traveling to your right breast. He kissed your nipple before pulling it into his mouth, sucking gently and scraping his teeth on it. His hand moved to your other breast, massaging it. You moaned, squeezing his shoulders. Dennis released your nipple and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. He stood up, holding you tightly and you squeaked, giggling. Dennis turned around gently laying you down on the bed. His eyes roamed your body as he stood above you.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled. He pulled off his shirt and pants and you chewed your bottom lip, scooting back on the bed. He was strong, not quite as built as the Beast, but so perfect. There was a sharp, perfect v line leading down to what was, in your opinion, the most delicious looking cock you’d ever seen. It was thick and curved slightly upwards, perfect for hitting your g spot. He was fucking perfect.

Dennis crawled up on the bed, settling between your legs. Your pussy was pressed against his lower stomach and you ground your hips against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. Dennis removed his glasses, laying them on his bedside table, and then leaned down to kiss you. As he kissed you he let one of his hands slide down in between you, gently touching your pussy. He groaned into your mouth as he felt how wet you were, and from such a delicious noise you were no longer embarrassed.

“Do you still want this?” Dennis mumbled the words against your mouth.

You slid your hands down his torso, one feeling up his sides and the other grasping his cock. It was smooth and warm and very hard. “Please,” you whispered.

Dennis buried his face in your neck, shuffling a bit upwards and letting you guide his dick to your entrance. It was no feat to press himself into you, you were beyond wet, you were soaking. You moaned, he stretched you so nicely and felt somehow ever bigger inside you. When he had pushed himself all the way into you, his hips pressed tightly against yours, he let out a shaky ‘fuck'. You let yourself relax into the bed, your back arching into him as he laid himself over you. He began softly kissing your neck, slowly beginning to rock back and forth inside you. The feel of his curved dick sliding in and out and pressing against your g spot made you clamp down on him with a soft whimper.

“I’m sorry I never talked to you,” Dennis struggled to get the words out, grunting as he did. “I thought you were too good for me. I still do,”

You let out a loud moan from a particularly hard thrust, scratching lightly down his back. “I… I think you’re… s-so perfect,” you fumbled through the sentence, your eyes rolling back in your head at another hard thrust. Your words seemed to fuel Dennis, and all of his thrusts became harder. “Holy shit,” you squealed. The slow, sticky sweet depth and drag of his thrusts had become a violent, pounding pull and push of pleasure, your g spot going from being stroked to being hammered. Dennis’s body was tense and stiff as he hammered into you, his face the pinnacle of focus and drive.

“Dennis stop!” you pushed against his shoulders and he immediately stopped, pulling out completely.

“What did I do? Where did I hurt you?” Dennis looked you over frantically, searching for anywhere he could have hit or scratched.

“No no, I just…” you flushed. “I… I’m gonna make a mess,”

Dennis raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to squirt?”

“Yeah,”

Dennis didn’t give you any time to say anything else, he took his cock and plunged right back into you, reveling at the shout that left your lips. You flattened yourself into the pillows, your hands grabbing fitfully on his blankets. “Holy shit,” you cried. Warmth built in your stomach, tingles spreading throughout your body and tears welling in your eyes. This was gonna be a big mess.

It didn’t take much longer for your squirt to completely soak Dennis’s lower half, and if you were capable of forming words you would have apologized. Your body seized around him, wrapping your arms and legs tightly around him as you cried out in his ear. Dennis wasn’t done yet. He was still thrusting into you just as fast as he’d been before, but now he was in your ear, growling something incoherent.

“S-stay ins-side,” you whispered. Your body was still quaking, Dennis’s cock still rubbing against everything that felt so overwhelming. “I have the pill,”

Dennis grunted, his arms beginning to tighten around your body. His thrusts began to lose rhythm, definitely not strength, and his incoherent growls got more strained. Suddenly Dennis went rigid, tremors going through him and a long, low moan sent shivers down your spine as he came. His shaking turned into very slow, careful movements in you, and you felt something hot fill you up and trickle out.

“Fuck,” he stayed in you, partially because he was too tired to move and partially because he was afraid the moment would end when he did.

You weren’t complaining, you were completely limp in his arms but not willing to let him go yet. You started pressing wet kisses to his neck and shoulders, tasting his salty wet skin. You rubbed his back, his slick skin beginning to get a trail of goosebumps. His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t let me go,” you whispered. You couldn’t leg him go, you couldn’t never hold him and kiss him and fuck him and touch him again. “Please don’t,”

Dennis gripped you tighter, flopping over on his side, still inside you. He threaded a hand through your hair, massaging your scalp. “I want to keep you forever. If you’re sure you want me,”

“Yes.” You buried your face in his chest. “Yes.”

“Stay in here tonight,” still, Dennis’s rumbling voice sent shivers down your spine. Dennis reached around you, pulling his blanket around and over both of you.

“Just make sure Hedwig doesn’t get the light in the morning,”

Dennis scoffed. “I’m not giving up the light for quite a while. They’ll understand.”

[fanfics4all]

The Love He Knew

Request: Yes / No This is based off of @haileygarciasunshine prompt list that I found here!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Dennis Cooper x Fem!Non-Binary!Parkinson!Male!Reader 

Word count: 984

Warnings: Talking of Jacob’s death

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The loft was unusually quiet tonight. Callie and Mariana were out, Davia was probably at a bar, and the others had scattered to their own plans. It was rare to have the place to myself, but something felt… off. I had noticed Dennis slipping away more than usual today. The way his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes, the way he excused himself from conversations like they were too much. I had a sinking feeling I knew why. So when I saw his bedroom door cracked open, the light dim inside, I followed my instincts and pushed it open gently. 

“Dennis?” 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His back rose and fell with uneven breaths, his shoulders tense like he was holding up the world. I stepped inside carefully, shutting the door behind me. 

“Hey.” I said softly, kneeling down in front of him. “Talk to me.” 

He didn’t look up. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

“I want to.” I told him firmly. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

A humorless chuckle escaped him, but it sounded more like a broken exhale. 

“I already did it alone once, Y/N. I lost him. I let him down.” 

My heart clenched. I had seen Dennis in his dark moment before, but this- this deep well of grief and guilt- never stopped breaking my heart. 

I reached out carefully, brushing my fingers over his wrist. “Dennis, you didn’t-”

“Yes, I did.” He interrupted, finally looking at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears. “If I had just been a better Father, if I had done something differently, maybe-” 

“Stop.” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Please, stop punishing yourself like this.” 

He let out a shaky breath, dropping his head into his hands again. 

“I don’t know how to stop, Y/N.” The vulnerability in his voice shattered me. I reached up, cupping his face gently, forcing him to meet my eyes. 

“Then let me help.” 

His brows furrowed. “How?” 

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “What can I do for you? Please, Dennis, I want to help.” 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he wasn’t sure how he had ever gotten lucky enough to have someone willing to stand in the storm with him. Then, slowly, he exhaled and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. 

“Just stay…” He whispered, his voice barely audible. 

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him as he let himself fall into me. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” And I meant it. 

The room was quiet except for Dennis’s slow, uneven breaths. We lay on his bed, tangled together in the soft glow of his bedside lamp. My fingers moved gently through his hair, feeling the way he relaxed under my touch, his body slowly unwinding from the weight of his grief. For a while, neither of us spoke. I didn’t push. I just stayed, giving him whatever comfort I could. But I knew there were words buried deep inside him, words he never let himself say out loud. After a few more moments of quiet, I hesitated before speaking. 

“Would it help to talk about him?” I asked softly. “About Jacob?” 

Dennis stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. My fingers continued tracing slow, soothing patterns in his hair, grounding him in the moment. For a long time, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, barely above a whisper, he said. 

“I don’t know…” 

I stayed silent, letting him decide. Then, after a beat, he exhaled shakily. 

“He was… everything.” Dennis murmured, his voice raw. 

“The best parts of me, the best parts of his Mom… he had this laugh, Y/N. God, it was the happiest sound. He used to giggle at the dumbest things. I’d make a face at him and he’d just lose it.” 

A small, broken smile flickered across his lips, but it didn’t last. His expression darkened, and he swallowed hard. 

“I should have been better. I should have been more for him. I wasn’t there enough- I let my work, my own issues, and my selfishness get in the way. And then he got sick, and it was too late to make up for it. Too late to be the Father he deserved.” His voice cracked on the last word, and my heart shattered right along with it. 

“Dennis…” I whispered, shifting closer. “You were his Father, and you loved him.” 

He shut his eyes tightly. “But did he know that?” His voice was barely a breath. 

“Did he know how much I loved him? Or did he die thinking I didn’t care enough?” I couldn’t take it. I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. 

“He knew, Dennis. There’s no way he didn’t Jacob had you. He had your love, your laughter, your presence- even if you don’t think it was enough, he did, and that’s what matters.” 

Dennis stared at me, his eyes glassy, his breath unsteady. 

“I just… I hope you’re right.” He finally whispered. 

“I know I am.” I told him, brushing my thumb over his cheek. 

“And I know you’re never going to stop carrying this pain, but I also know that Jacob wouldn’t want you to keep punishing yourself. He’d want you to remember the love, the happiness, him.” 

Dennis let out a long, shaky breath, and for the first time tonight, something in his eyes softened. The pain was still there, still deep and raw, but maybe it was a little lighter. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist before closing his eyes. 

“Stay.” He murmured again. 

I curled closer, my fingers still running through his hair. 

“Always.” 

As the silence settled around us, I knew he believed me. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1

[thepencilnerd]

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you. 

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked. 

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

[lc-birdie]

Calm

A/N got this request from @happyfox43 and needed to write this

"Dennis comes over to reader's apartment (she gave him a key) after a hard shift, and sees her sleeping in his hoodie and while he cuddles with her he realizes that this is what he wants for the rest of his life."

It had been a long day. Dennis had been covered in far too many fluids. Blood. Urine. Medication. Also there was far too many grumpy patients that had made their rounds through the Pitt.

When he was given the go-ahead; he didn't hesitate. Picking up his jacket, bag and any other things he needed, he took off to his happy place. Your apartment.

Shoving the key into the lock he made quick work of his scrubs. Sneaking his way quietly into the shower, he tried to make as little noise as possible unsure of whether you were asleep or not.

Dennis sighed as the warm water washed over him. Most of the day following it down the drain. He threw on a loose shirt and some boxers before making his way to your room. The sight before him nearly knocked the air out of him.

You curled up in the sheets and soft blankets tucked in a nest of warmth and safety. Even more you were wrapped in his hoodie. Completely isolated from the chaos of the world.

He crawled in next to you, tucking himself into your back, placing a kiss against your cheek. You started to stir next to him. "Sorry didn't mean to wake you..." He whispered softly as he nestled his face into the back of your neck.

"S'okay," you say as you reach back and grab his hand to intertwine with yours. "Glad you're home, mouse..."

Then it settled into that comfortable silence. Nothing but the faint hum of the fan overhead and light breaths.

This was it. His whole world in this room. Calm. Warm. Quiet. Serenity enveloped around him and his love. Absolute heaven even if it only lasted that night.

[mikgreo]

denji’s prized possession!!

nsfw, minors dni.

a/n: thinking about how cute and submissive denji would be!! always ready to get a taste of his prized possession. this man will get on his knees anywhere, everywhere, always, no matter what.🧡

warning: exploiting, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, denji cums on your stomach and licks it off, also rubs his cum on your pussy, panty stealing.

“babyyy..~” denji whispered into your ear.

“no, go to bed denji.” you said trying to free yourself from his hold.

you two were at his apartment. you were too tired to walk back home, afterall the mission you both got sent over too had taken almost the whole day. you decided to stay with denji, praying all he would do was cuddle and go to bed.

“pleasee. can’t wait til mornin’ pretty.” he was whining in your ear. so annoying, but cute. you thought.

denji had been begging you for almost 20 minutes to let him eat you out. you, of course being too tired, kept denying his request. you didnt wanna go through the trouble of getting up and taking your clothes off and all of that.

“denji, im too tired baby. i cant even get up im so sore. i promise tomorrow, when i can actually get up.” you said, attempting to turn around so you wouldn’t have to little spoon anymore.

“so if i did it while you were asleep you wouldn’t mind?” denji said while kissing your shoulder.

“mmm nope. its better than doing all the work, i would be fine with it.” you laughed jokingly, knowing he would do it, but it never crossed your mind he would, right now, today, tonight.

denji didnt say anymore, so you took it as an invitation to let your eyes rest and get some long, well deserved, sleep.

denji’s pov!

sooo hungry. i cant wait til tomorrow mornin’.

he freed his hold on you waist and slid down the bed, onto the ground, pulling you by your legs to get closer, earning a grunt from you.

he didnt think much of this. he knew you were a deep sleeper, so he had no fear moving you as he pleased.

he tilted your body to the right and raised your legs up, spreading just enough.

he stopped.

would you be okay with this? is this rape? surely not. i hope not, itll be ok. something about this excited him, he knew you would never be really upset with him. it turned him on, seeing you when your the most vulnerable, taking advantage of your body.

he smiled to himself knowing everything was probably okay.

he pulled down your shorts. leaving your underwear on.

he stuffed his face in your cunt, deeply inhaling your smell. he licked your clit through the fabric.

he unconsciously began to rub against the foundation of the mattress. he tried to find the position where he could get the most friction in his sweatpants.

denji grabbed your panties and pulled them up, watching them go up your almost soaked cunt, sinking into the lips of your pussy.

he buried his face once again in your pussy, lapping up all your juices eating you like a hungry dog.

he pulled your panties off, getting a better view of your pussy, sinking in a finger inside your tight hole.

he curved his finger up and down inside taking his time feeling around and exploring your gummy walls, he pulled out and licked it off clean. moaning at the taste.

he pushed his finger back in while flicking his tongue on your clit, occasionally sucking it and rubbing it with his free hand.

at this point denji’s face was a mess covered in your juices. he was a moaning mess, his pants earning a wet spot the more the rubbed against the base of the bed, he had came atleast twice.

he stuck his hand down his pants wetting his fingers with his own slick, taking it up and spreading it inside your pussy, as lube. but also because he found it hot to taste himself on your pretty pussy <3

denji lost track of time, your body had came around 3 times now, he knew if he kept going your body would eventually squirt “or somethin’ ” (his words) and you would wake up.

he found it exciting not wanting to be caught. it turned him on.

he decided to finish himself off by hovering over you relieving himself all over your tummy.

as he finished getting every last drop out his red puffy tip, he licked it off your stomach, licking it clean.

he picked up your shorts and put them back on, but leaving your panties bunched up inside his pockets.

he layed back down in the same position he was in about an hour ago, and took your panties out his pocket.

he spun them around and the air before sniffing them again.

he put them infront of you.

“see that y/n? i wonder who these belong to ♡” he giggled, “they’re my prized possession, along with your pretty soaking pink pussy.”

im soooo sorry if this was something weird to write!!:(

ive personally imagined myself in this scenario amd would fimd it super hot if my partner did this, but thats me.

[ebodebo]

LISTEN…confronting your fiance, langdon, about his drug problem…at the hospital which you’re a nurse at…and your dad overhears the yelling and barges in…and yes ofc robby is your dad bc who do you think i am? heavy angst incoming!

mentions of addiction and drugs…read at your own discretion!

-

Your sight must be deceiving you.

You had been going off of little to no sleep and in the middle of your fifteen-hour shift.

The bag in your hands held small white pills, each one taunting you from behind its wall of plastic.

You had been staring at them for ten minutes.

Ten tantalizing minutes that felt like an eternity.

You swore you didn't come to snoop, but…you had a gut feeling to check deep in his backpack.

You almost threw up when you heard the crinkle of the bag and felt the hard circles enclosed.

"Honey," Langdon breaches the silence as he approaches, not noticing the bag in your hand. "Are you alright?"

You close your eyes, releasing a shallow breath as you slowly turn to face him, the bag hanging by your fingertips.

His eyes widen in surprise before words start pouring out of his mouth. "Okay," he begins, putting his hands up. "I know what you think," he nods his head, his chest rising with each word.

Your lips flatline, and you release a shallow breath through your nose. "Do you?"

"I'm not an addict," he urges, eyes wide.

You shake your head, a humorless smile on your face. "Why did you feel the need to clarify that, huh?" 

His jaw tightens. "I—I'm not."

You shake your head, tears already brimming your waterline. "How long?"

"Listen…you're upset," he starts, but his voice is too calm, which makes you lose it. 

You toss the pills on the floor. "How fucking long have you been hooked on these God-damn pills!" you shout louder than intended, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks.

His eyes widen. "Just—just calm down," his calm voice suggests, yet it carries some nervousness.

"You want me to calm down?" you spit, eyes narrowing at him. "I just found out my fiance is an addict, and you want me to calm down?" 

"Baby, baby," he moves closer to you, desperation in his voice. "You, you know me," his eyes search yours, looking away from his. "I'm not a fucking addict." His hands move to press into either of your biceps.

You almost falter at his touch, but you shake your head, finally looking up at him. "Do I know you?" you ask, eyes moving over his. "I mean, do I really?"

"I haven't lied to you," he says, his light eyes searching for anything from yours. "Baby, I'm not an addict. Could an addict do what I do?"

He tries to reason, and you let out a dry laugh.

A salty tear runs down your lips as you sniffle. "Apparently," you shrug him off, stepping away from him to run your hands through your hair.

"You, you know me," his hands shake as he tries to explain. "They're just for the pain."

"That's what they all say, Frank," your voice rises as you chew on the inside of your cheek. "You know that."

He inhales deep breaths, raising his hands in surrender. "Baby…I know you're upset," he starts, making you laugh humorlessly.

"That doesn't even scratch the surface," you say plainly.

"Please don't, don't tell Robby," he exasperates, his voice tight. “He'll report me, baby," he moved closer to you. "Please don't."

You let out a huff. "You don't want me to tell my dad you're an addict so you can keep your fucking job?"

"Baby, please," he urges, desperation in his words. "I could lose my medical license."

Your mouth hangs open; silence hangs between you two for a moment before your voice dips down. "You piece of shit," you mutter. "You piece of fucking shit," you bring your finger up to point at him, voice incredulous. You shrug loosely. "Were you on the pills when you proposed?"

"Baby," he tilts his head to the side, evading the question.

"Were you on them?" your voice is lethal, loud.

He closes his eyes before opening them, letting his shoulders sag.

There it is.

The confession.

You shake your head, your eyes downcast as you make a humorless sound. "Oh, that's just...that's real nice, Frank," you begin, your voice rising as you continue. "I'm so fucking glad to know that you were God-damn high when you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me."

"I, I meant everything I said," he says immediately. "We can—we can still get married," he says hopefully. "I love you so much."

"No, you don't, Frank," you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "You would have told me about the pills if you did."

"What's going on in here?" Dr. Robby's voice slices through the air, making your and Langdon's eyes snap to him.

"Robby," Langdon greets, voice slightly shaky. "No—nothing,"

Dr. Robby's eyes drift to you.

Your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks wet with tears.

"Frank," he turns towards Langdon, pointing lazily at you. "What the hell did you do to my daughter?"

"I didn't—I didn't do anything, Robby," he tries, eyes moving to you as if you were going to defend him.

"He's a fucking addict," your voice ricochets off the walls. You bend down to pick up the bag off the floor. "Painkillers."

Dr. Robby's eyes snap back to Langdon. "Is it true?"

"It's not what you think—" Langdon starts before Dr. Robby lifts up his hand.

"Frank," he urges, voice low. "Have you been popping painkillers?"

Langdon doesn't move for a moment before he slowly nods. Dr. Robby lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. 

"Frank," he looks at him. "You need to leave," he says, finality in his tone.

"If you would just let me explain—" Langdon starts before Dr. Robby wipes his face roughly.

"Get the fuck out of my ER!" Dr. Robby shouts. "Now."

Langdon winces before he slowly grabs his backpack, eyes locking with yours before you turn away from his gaze. He nods lightly before turning to move out of the door.

"Daddy," you say lowly when Langdon leaves, sinking onto the ground and propping yourself on the locker. "He's an addict," you sniffle, head in your hands. "A fucking addict."

Dr. Robby sighs as he approaches you, sinking into the spot next to you.

"He was on them when he proposed," you murmur, chest heaving. "He was fucking high!"

"Oh…sweet pea," he coaxes, putting his arm around your shoulder and embracing you.

"I, I feel so lost," you blubber into his chest, tears staining his jacket. "I don't know what to do."

He nods. "You don't have to do anything right now, kiddo. You just have to be. I'm here for you," his voice offers you some comfort.

You don't remember how long you sat there crying into your dad's chest, staining his clothes and ruining your makeup.

You’re glad to stop moving for a moment.

Letting everything go and putting it all in the open.

You know that eventually, you'll have to deal with the fallout, but for now, you just wanted your dad to hold you.

-

author’s note: oh my god this got way more emotional than i intended…

[481mclarg]

✶ Every atom of me misses you.

          ┈          where you miss your bf, who's far from home.

★ in order: Oliver Bearman, Franco Colapinto, Oscar Piastri, Dennis Hauger, Lando Norris.

Warning: Slightly suggestive (5°)

★ mi amor = my love ★ tkm = te (kiero/)quiero mucho = i love you so much ★ min elskling = my darling ★ «We are irresistibly attracted to those who will bring us the problems necessary for our own evolution.», in Spanish «Estamos irresistiblemente atraídos por quien nos traerá los problemas necesarios para nuestra propia evolución.» is a phrase by the Chilean artist, filmmaker, and writer Alejandro Jodorowsky.

481MCLARG | 05 . 03 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

[charliedawn]

Okay Charlie hear me out on something, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s not a request it’s more of an idea or thought. (It might be dark idk)

Let’s say the nurse went to a different sanitarium, and the patients she treated were horrible towards her, what do I mean? I mean like they were all a group. Each and every one of them broke her down and she just accepted it. They played around with her like a doll didn’t care about her, they used her for anything and she accepted it. It took a lot for her to leave all of that toxicity leaving mainly scars on her back. Once she came to St. Louis (if I spelled it wrong correct me)

Obviously, she thought the same thing would happen, until the slashers actually started to like her and treated her differently. Sometimes she’ll flinch thinking they’ll hurt her like the others did but will play it off, until maybe…idk pennywise or anyone else who has mind powers finally goes in her head to see what happened, or maybe one of them catch her with the scars on her back. like when she first arrived she was all stone cold until she slowly opened up a little more. She promised herself to never cry in front of people but them confronting her about it just made her emotional since she felt worthless and used at that time and knowing they care means a lot

Like I said just a thought I had and would see what you’d like about it.

The slashers knew that you had transferred from another mental hospital before coming to St Louis. They just didn’t know how bad it was until one day…The scars showed and some of the staff members started gossiping about it. Soon, all the patients knew of what had happened, and they decided to try and see the scars for themselves…Not expecting how bad they were.

Jason saw them when he asked you to give him a bath. You rolled up your sleeves and he noticed familiar marks on your body.

But, you weren’t the only one being exposed.

Jason normally never showed his scars to anyone but his mother. But once in the bath, you eyes traveled along his scars. There were ugly red angry scars. He was covered in them.

You didn’t say anything, he didn’t either.

You just kept washing his hair and he stared at the ceiling—barely giving you a few glances from time to time. He could see that the scars weren’t only on your arms. He could see they were going far beyond what he could see.

When you were about to leave, he surprised you by grabbing the hem of your shirt and looking at you with pleading eyes.

You knew what he was asking for. Your eyes stayed locked and even though he didn’t utter a word, you had learned to understand him without the need for him to speak.

You sighed before wordlessly raising your shaking hands to your collar as you started unbuttoning your shirt. As you went along, his eyes stayed glued on you—watching intently as each scar was revealed to him.

He was actually surprised to find that you had almost as many as him. But unlike him…His eyes lowered a little…You weren’t even a killer.

He wanted to speak. It was the first time he wished he could actually speak and find the words to make it all alright. But the moment he looked up, you were already gone…

Freddy Krueger :

"…You don’t need to hide them."

You stopped dead in your tracks before turning around to face Freddy with a slight frown of incomprehension.

"…What ?"

He tilted his head and for the first time, Freddy wasn’t smiling. He eyed your body up and down and leaned forward.

"You can try to cover them up all ya want, sweetheart. The scars ain’t gonna poof out of existence just cause ya want them gone. Believe me from experience. So, if ya wanna hear my advice ?" He crossed his arms over the table and laid his chin on them before looking straight at you. "…Be proud of them. Wear them like a fucking flag and make fuckers shake in their boots cause ya too damn badass for them to break ya."

You stayed silent as you kept looking at Freddy and you smiled—your eyes softening as you realised that Freddy was trying to make you feel better.

"Thanks, Freddy. You’re pretty badass too."

He huffed a laugh—but his eyes showed more than his smile as he replied.

"Yeah. Right. Be grateful you can hide the scars and don’t look like an overused chewing gum…" He grins. "Besides, haven’t ya heard ? Scars is the new sexy."

You laughed and shook your head.

"Right. Then you must be the god of sexy."

He smirked.

"Oh, honey…~Of course I am."

Brahms Heelshire :

You were playing dress up. Brahms had insisted you play with him and wanted to dress you up with some of the dresses Barry had made.

He waited for you to change, but he couldn’t help to take a sneak peek at you—an old habit from his days hidden in the walls of his old house.

But, he didn’t expect to see the subtle rivers of red scars running down your back. He stayed shocked for a few seconds and it gave you enough time to notice his reflection in the mirror.

You quickly turned around and he could see it in your face. You were upset.

"Brahms ! I said not to look ! Bad boy !"

In normal circumstances, that last part would have made him whimper and beg for your forgiveness. But, not this time. This time…Brahms seemed to realise that you had a past he knew nothing about and suffering he would probably never be able to understand.

He came in and hugged you tightly.

You were about to speak up when he beat you to it.

"You look really pretty…"

Your eyes widened at the compliment and you didn’t know what to say. You knew he was talking about the dress and how it looked on you—but you still started crying. You embraced him back and for once, Brahms was the one to comfort you as he held you in his arms and couldn’t seem to find any other way to reassure you but to keep complimenting you and hoping that if he said it enough, you would end up believing it…

Michael Myers :

Michael noticed the bandages around your wrists and the fact that you seemed to hide your body with sweaters and jackets…He knew.

Of course he knew.

But, he didn’t ask at the beginning because well…He didn’t care enough to ask. And then, he started to care. And that made him afraid. Because Michael Myers always kills the people he cares about. And he didn’t want to kill you.

But, he could see your suffering and the fact that nobody else seemed to understand or even notice your pain was driving him insane. Until, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He grabbed your wrist and as you were about to ask what was going on, he dragged you back to a room. Once you were alone, he wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered.

"Show…me."

You didn’t understand at first, not until he started pulling on your sweater and lift it just enough for his hands to touch the scars.

Your eyes widened in shock and fear as you tried to push him away.

"No, Michael ! No !"

But, he didn’t listen. He would see them. He would feel them. And he would heal them…Because that’s what you were doing for the slashers on a regular basis. And he would drop dead before letting you think he didn’t see you…

He laid his hands flat on your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"…I…care." He buried his face in your neck. "I care…"

You were so shocked about hearing him speak that you actually stopped struggling and started crying instead—finally hugging him back.

"I know, Michael. I know…"

Bo Sinclair :

"…Look at that. We got matchin’ friendship bracelets, darls’. If that ain’t a sign ? Then I dunno what is."

Bo noticed your wrists and the familiar binding scars. He had the same damn scars around his wrists. He knew what they meant. He knew torture and pain.

It was even worse when it came from people you thought cared about you. He thought for a long time that his ma and pa had a good reason to attach him and force feed him. He always thought they loved him…But it was only an illusion.

Your older patients…You surely cared for them—or you tried to. But, the scars were proof enough that this care was one-sided and that at the end, they had taken more from you than they had ever given you.

Bo stroked the scars on your wrists and offered you a sad smile.

"…They may not have loved you, nurse. But you can be sure that we’ll love ya bette’ for it," He looked up at you and "You’ll be a’right. I’ll make sure of it."

He grabbed your forearm and pressed his own scars against your own before pressing his forehead against yours.

"…We gonna be a’right. You and I. We gonna be a’right. I promise."

Your eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his forearm back.

"Yeah, Bo. We’re going to be alright."

Penny :

It was in your bedroom when Penny first saw them. He was hiding underneath your bed and was waiting to jump scare you when you started undressing and his eyes widened when he saw your damaged back.

He kept staring before you were asleep in bed and then, he slowly crept up your bed until his face was right above your sleeping face.

He started sniffing your scars and growled lowly when he realised where you had gotten them from. They had hurt you…

He then slowly opened his mouth to lick your back—trying to soothe the pain. Some of them even healed up a little as he tried to make them disappear. He didn’t like to see you hurt.

Not a lot of people knew of Penny’s healing abilities. Especially since he didn’t like to use it on just anybody. But for you ? He’d make an exception…

When you stirred in your sleep, he had no choice but to stop. But, he still raised his hand to slowly caress your face and giggled quietly.

"…Brave, nursy."

He whispered as you kept your eyes closed and Penny sighed before nuzzling your face.

"…They will pay. They will pay. I will devour their stupid souls and eat them whole. I’ll make them regret every hurting you, my little nurse…"

He then kissed your cheek.

Your eyes suddenly opened—but he was gone.

Pennywise :

Pennywise sat down next to you as you were having your break. He didn’t speak at first. You glanced at him curiously, but you didn’t try to break the silence.

You were starting to wonder if whether or not you should say something or leave when he finally spoke up.

"I saw many people with scars. Even Penny. I saw men, women and children try to hide their physical scars in fear or shame but…" Pennywise slowly removed one of his gloves and your eyes widened in shock when he actually laid his hand flat on yours. "…I don’t think so."

You stared at his hand on top of yours and were speechless for a second. Pennywise didn’t like to be touched. And the fact that he was now holding your hand was a real shock.

"Pennywise…You do not have to…" You tried to tell him.

He looked at you and smiled.

"It won’t bother me as much if I know it is for you…"

He tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand was shaking. He was forcing himself to stay still and make you feel better.

Finally, he retreated his hand, but the fact that he had actually succeeded in holding on as long as he did was a huge progress.

You smiled to yourself before looking at him.

"Thank you, Pennywise."

He smiled back.

"You’re welcome, sugar."

Dennis :

You were washing the dishes with Dennis when his eyes spotted the little red scars on your arms. You followed his gaze and sighed before lowering your sleeves a little. Dennis looked up at your annoyed expression and wordlessly finished washing the dishes with you.

As you were leaving to get to your office however, he grabbed your hand. You frowned and looked back at him and he opened his mouth. He was silent for a few seconds before finally telling you:

"…The Horde expected me to protect them, so I did…But nobody came to help me when I needed protecting. So, I know how it feels. And that if you ever need protection ? I am here. And I…understand."

As you weren’t reacting, he thought you might find his words inappropriate or odd. He sighed and released your hand.

"…Just wanted to let you know."

He then turned around to leave.

But, you caught his hand before he could walk away and Dennis was momentarily stunned before he looked back at you and his astonishment turned to worry when he saw that you were crying.

But, his eyes widened when he felt you squeeze his hand and you offered his a small smile.

"…Thank you, Dennis."

He looked back down at your hand holding his and gulped before squeezing it back with a small smile of his own.

"…You’re welcome."

Norman Bates :

"…Y/N…" His voice was weak. It was the first time Norman seemed so upset. He stared at your naked back and the angry red scars. They were so deep and some looked like the red feathers of imprinted wings.

He was speechless. When you tried to cover up, he stepped forward and held you closely—kissing the scars on your back gently.

"…I am so sorry, darling. I should have been here. I should have…" Norman felt so ashamed. He knew you from far before any of the slashers met you. But he had never really realised how bad it was.

"You couldn’t have. You didn’t know." You tried to reassure him, but he only held you tighter.

"I should have. Forgive me, my darling. Forgive me." He pleaded and his eyes filled with tears as he embraced you tightly and kept kissing your scars.

He wanted the pain to be gone.

Why hadn’t you said anything ? Why hadn’t you told him the truth ? Why hadn’t you given him the opportunity to avenge you ?

He felt anger bubbling in his chest.

…People were going to die tonight…

[mythicalmaven]

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (THREE)

masterlist | promptlist | previous part

Here is part three! And I'm honestly so proud of this chapter! I think it turned out awesome lol <3

↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳warnings: awkward encounters, truth or dare (trust me lol) , jealousy, alcohol, drinking games, talking about feelings ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

*a few days later*

As you stood in the bathroom, tying your hair into a ponytail, the familiar scent of the devil himself filled the small space. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Charles had a way of entering a room without saying a word but still commanding all the air in it. He closed the distance between you two, silently taking his place by the sink next to you, reaching into the cupboard for his hair products.

You bit back a groan, focusing on your reflection. There was nothing inherently wrong with him being there—but him standing this close stirred feelings you desperately wanted to push aside. His presence was overwhelming, in that maddening, familiar way.

Your usual coping mechanism kicked in: sarcasm, sharp enough to keep him at arm’s length.

"Fixing your hair won’t fix your attitude, you know that, right?" you sassed, not entirely sure why you felt the need to say anything.

Charles scoffed, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. His gaze was intense, steady—always knowing too much. "There’s no attitude that needs fixing," he huffed, washing his hands and drying them on the towel with deliberate slowness. "Besides, some people actually put effort into how they present themselves..."

Your head snapped toward him. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying I look like shit?"

He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Are you honestly this delusional?"

You threw your hands in the air. "Well, apparently, I am! Because that insult was completely unnecessary." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink with a challenging glare.

Charles shrugged, unfazed. "First of all, you started it. I didn’t do anything until you found it necessary to attack me." His voice lowered slightly, holding that aggravating calmness. "And besides… you and I both know that wasn’t an insult."

You narrowed your eyes. "How was it not an insult? You basically said I don’t put effort into how I look."

He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Before you could register what was happening, his hands were on either side of you, gripping the edge of the sink. His chest hovered just inches from yours, effectively trapping you in place. His cologne wrapped around you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before snapping back, locking onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

"Chérie, don’t act like you’re unaware that I think you’re hot," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You don’t need the effort."

Your heart thudded violently in your chest. For a split second, your gaze dropped to his lips—damn it. Realizing your mistake, you forced your eyes away, breathing through the sudden rush of heat.

You steeled yourself and met his gaze again. "Charles, quit playing games and get out of my face," you said through clenched teeth, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

His eyes swept over you one last time, lingering on how you were still pressed against the sink, tension radiating between you like a live wire. His jaw clenched.

What the hell is he thinking?

Charles shifted back slightly, but something held him there, still too close for comfort. He exhaled sharply, as if wrestling with himself.

"What changed?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

Your brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, shoulders tense. "What did I do that made you hate me so much?" His voice softened, tinged with something dangerously close to regret. "What changed?"

Before you could answer—or even begin to process what to say—someone cleared their throat at the doorway.

Charles jumped back like he’d been burned, stumbling a step before retreating to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You turned your head sharply, locking eyes with Arthur, who stood leaning against the doorframe with a massive, knowing grin.

"I came to ask if you’re ready for game night," Arthur said casually, though his smirk betrayed every innocent intention.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax. "Yeah, coming," you muttered, pushing off the sink and brushing past him.

But before you crossed the threshold, something tugged at you. You rested your hand on the doorframe, glancing back at Charles. His head lifted, eyes locking onto yours with a silent intensity.

"As for what changed?" you said quietly, voice sharper than you intended. "The fact that you have no idea says enough, Charles."

With that, you walked out, catching up to Arthur as he fell into step beside you, still grinning like an idiot.

He glanced sideways at you, suppressing a laugh. "You two really have a thing for getting caught in bathrooms together, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t start."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, let’s just say... I did put my money on you two hooking up this holiday, but I didn’t expect you to get that intimate that fast."

"First of all, nothing happened," you snapped, face heating. "And second, it wasn’t what it looked like."

"That’s what they all say," Arthur teased. "But to me, it looked like my brother had you pinned against the sink pretty damn convincingly."

You groaned. "He did not have me pinned—"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Because you being pressed against the sink while he boxed you in with his hands definitely looked like pinning from where I was standing."

"Fine," you admitted, throwing your hands up. "It looked exactly like that, but it was not for the reason you so desperately hope it was. So shut your mouth before I call your mom and tell her what happened to her couch." you said, referring to the time you caught Arthur and his former girlfriend having sex on his mom's new couch.

Arthur’s grin dropped instantly, his hands shooting up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax, no need for threats!" he laughed, shaking his head as the two of you headed downstairs.

As you and Arthur walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

"I’m still putting my money on it, though," Arthur added with a mischievous grin, his voice light but teasing.

Before you could respond, Dennis looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Putting your money on what?"

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. "That she’ll hook up with Charles before the end of this trip," he declared confidently, shooting you a knowing smirk.

Dennis let out a deep chuckle, sitting up straighter. "Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt in that," he agreed, his tone playfully conspiratorial.

You groaned dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. "Seriously? You’re both delusional."

Arthur shrugged. "Just calling it like we see it. The tension could be cut with a knife."

Dennis nodded sagely, as if offering expert commentary. "It’s practically inevitable."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at Dennis, who dodged it with practiced ease, laughing.

"You two are ridiculous," you muttered, fighting back a smile as they continued to exchange amused glances like co-conspirators.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆₊⁺

Tonight, the sky outside was pitch black, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance as the group gathered in the living room. Sprawled across the plush couches, each of you with a drink in hand, the night carried an air of relaxed intimacy. The warm light of the room and the subtle buzz of alcohol created the perfect atmosphere for a game that was bound to stir up some chaos.

It was Inès who first suggested it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned forward, waving her drink for emphasis. “Okay,” she announced, her grin widening. “Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

There was a mix of groans and laughs, but no one protested. As the alcohol worked its magic, the group quickly fell into the rhythm of the game, starting with tame questions.

“Alright,” Inès began, her tone playful. “Never have I ever made out at work.”

A beat of silence followed before all the boys raised their glasses almost simultaneously, their movements earning a round of laughter.

“I should’ve guessed,” you said, shaking your head as they took their sips.

The game continued, the questions growing more personal but still lighthearted. Dennis asked if anyone had ever called in sick to work when they weren’t actually sick, which prompted a unanimous drink from nearly everyone. Joris, with his usual antics, asked if anyone had ever gotten so drunk they couldn’t remember anything, earning another flurry of laughter as most of the group took a sip.

Then Kika piped up, her eyes sparkling as she leaned back against Pierre with a devilish grin. “Okay, my turn,” she announced, her voice dripping with amusement. “Never have I ever made out with my brother’s or sister’s best friend.”

The room broke into a chorus of gasps and giggles as everyone’s eyes darted around, scanning for raised glasses other than the obvious ones. Pierre groaned, shaking his head with a laugh as he lifted his drink and took a sip.

“You just want to get your boyfriend drunk, don't you?” Dennis teased Kika, his grin widening as he, too, raised his glass and took a sip.

Kika laughed, and looked at Pierre, who shot Dennis a playful smirk. “You did too, I see?”

Dennis chuckled, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, can't deny that.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flitting around the room. “Alright, anyone else want to confess?”

You stayed silent, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you watched the game unfold. The question might not have been directed at you specifically, but the implications swirling around the room were impossible to ignore, clearly an indirect question to see if you actually ever made out with Charles, which bummer to them, you didn't.

The game was already proving to be far more chaotic than you’d anticipated. The group sat sprawled out on the plush couches in the villa’s living room, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. You’d already survived a few rounds of lighthearted questions—some borderline embarrassing—but when Dennis sat forward, his mischievous grin spelled trouble.

“Okay,” Dennis announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Y’all ask boring questions. Let’s spice this up.” He took a dramatic pause, letting the tension build before smirking. “Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone in this room… since we arrived here.”

A ripple of laughter broke out immediately. Kika, sitting snugly next to Pierre, was the first to respond, raising her glass with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well, I think I better drink, because let’s be honest—no one would believe me if I said no, considering my boyfriend is literally right here.”

Pierre nudged her with a grin, clearly unbothered by her admission as he sipped from his own glass. “As if the feeling isn’t mutual,” he teased, earning another round of laughter.

Across the room, Gigi tried to be subtle, lifting her glass for a quick sip, but Dennis’ sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Oh, I saw that, Gi!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Gigi flushed crimson, glaring at him. “Shut up, Dennis,” she shot back, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t turn all the attention on me. I’m not the only one who drank!” She gestured toward a few others who had lifted their glasses.

“Oh, I’m not pretending I didn’t,” Dennis said casually, raising his glass again for emphasis. “Because I have zero shame” His eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, silently hoping to stay under the radar. But your attempt at blending into the background only seemed to make you more conspicuous.

“Don’t act all shy now, Gasly,” Dennis teased, his tone smug. His eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “I saw you take a sip. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Care to enlighten us who the lucky one is?”

Your cheeks burned as every pair of eyes turned toward you. You scrambled to think of a response, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you forced a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Dennis. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you quipped, your voice surprisingly steady despite the heat in your face.

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing comments, but before the attention could shift completely, Arthur piped up from where he was seated beside Charles.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, his grin widening as he leaned forward. “We’ve all been so focused on you three, but is no one going to mention the fact that two other people drank as well?” His eyes darted pointedly toward Charles and Joris, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Hmm, I wonder who those drinks were about.”

Charles stiffened slightly beside him, his jaw tightening as he tried to play it cool. “Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink as if to distract himself.

“Too late, mate,” Arthur shot back with a grin, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You drank. That means you’ve got to own up to it.”

Joris, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Charles, don’t be shy. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and trying to appear nonchalant. “Not a chance,” he said simply, though the tips of his ears betrayed a faint redness.

You couldn’t help but glance at him briefly, your curiosity piqued. Did he…? No, there was no way. You quickly shoved the thought aside, but the idea lingered annoyingly in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Charles’ thoughts were anything but composed. When you’d taken a sip earlier, his stomach had twisted uncomfortably. At first, he’d assumed it was Dennis—the way Dennis was always teasing you, always so close—but then another thought crept in, one that made his pulse quicken. What if it wasn’t Dennis?

The idea of it being about him sent a conflicting mix of emotions surging through him—hope, doubt, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Joris’ subtle kick to his shin until it made contact.

“Stop staring,” Joris whispered, smirking at his friend. “You’re making it obvious.”

Charles snapped out of his reverie, glaring at Joris. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

Arthur, ever the opportunist, caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?” he asked, clearly amused. “Charles getting a little distracted?”

“Leave him alone,” Joris said with a grin, though his tone was far from serious. “Poor guy’s got enough on his plate already.”

“Oh, definitely not, he's pestered me long enough about things, payback time” Arthur said, his laugh echoing over the group’s chatter as Charles groaned, clearly regretting his choice to participate

The laughter hadn’t fully settled when Paul leaned forward with a mischievous grin, his drink loosely dangling in one hand. He glanced between you and Charles, his tone teasing as he spoke.

“So, Y/n, didn’t you mention something about the walls here being thin?” Paul asked, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “Hope Charles has been a quiet neighbor. Otherwise, you probably heard everything. Poor Y/n.”

The room erupted into laughter, Dennis and Arthur practically doubling over. Kika smirked, nudging Pierre, who groaned, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Paul, his jaw tightening slightly before he forced a smirk onto his face. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he shot back. “If I had to… handle things, I’d make sure no one heard a damn thing. Either that or I’d do it somewhere more private.”

The laughter grew louder, Dennis nearly choking on his drink. “Good to know you’ve got a strategy, mate,” he teased, wiping his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel heat creeping up your neck at the implication. The idea of Charles trying to stay quiet, and worse, the thought of actually overhearing him, made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to unpack. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t hear anything,” you retorted, forcing a grin to hide your flustered state. “Because if I did, I’d probably have hearing damage.”

Charles turned to you, his smirk sharpening as he shot back, “As if I’d want to get off with you right outside my room.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Dennis, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a wicked grin. “No,” he said, drawing out the word for effect. “Because you’d prefer her in the room, wouldn’t you?”

The laughter that followed was deafening. Dennis clinked his glass with Paul’s, who was shaking his head but laughing just as hard. Charles, on the other hand, turned beet red, his face almost matching the color of his drink.

You weren’t any better, your face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Dennis, I swear to God,” you muttered, though your voice was muffled by the roar of the group.

Pierre groaned, his expression one of pure disgust as he rubbed his temples. “Okay, are you done? Because we are so not dragging my baby sister into Charles’ dirty fantasies.”

Arthur, always ready to escalate things, grinned and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have to drag her into anything, Pierre,” he joked. “Charles probably already does that himself.”

The laughter doubled, filling the room with chaos as you and Charles sat frozen in mortification. Kika had tears streaming down her face from laughing, while Joris clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Pierre glared at the group, clearly over it. “I don’t even want to know,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Can we just move on before I lose my mind?”

The group slowly settled, though the smirks and giggles lingered as someone suggested the next round of the game. But despite the conversation moving on, you couldn’t help but feel Charles’ gaze flick toward you now and then, and you hated how much your heart raced when it did.

Meanwhile, Charles couldn’t stop replaying Dennis’ comment in his head. The idea of you in his room—or worse, of you thinking about him in that way—had lodged itself in his mind, refusing to budge. He shook his head, trying to focus on the game, but it was no use.

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the seed of thought had been planted, and it was impossible to ignore.

The game moved on, the attention shifting away from Charles and you for the moment, but the tension hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Charles stole another glance at you, his thoughts still tangled in the what-ifs. And as for you? You couldn’t help but wonder if you were indeed the one that had made him drink in the first place.

It was Joris who leaned forward next, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Alright, never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as everyone exchanged curious glances. Inès was the first to raise her glass and take a drink, earning a few cheers and teasing remarks. But it was the way both you and Arthur looked at each other, simultaneously bursting into laughter, that drew all the attention. Without hesitation, the two of you clinked your glasses together dramatically and downed your drinks in one go.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his perplexed expression giving him away. “Wait—you and Y/n kissed?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of you, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Arthur let out a laugh, leaning back casually. “Jealous much?” he shot back, his grin widening when he saw the flicker of annoyance cross Charles’ face.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Charles still looked a little dumbfounded, his confusion—and something else he wouldn’t name—lingering. Kika, always one to stir the pot, leaned forward with a smirk. “Okay, I’m curious now. What’s the story?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you waved a hand dismissively. “There’s not much of a story, honestly. Happened a few times. We were both hopeless and single, and we figured, why not? It was just for fun. Turns out we were terrible at it.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, still grinning. “Massive failure. Zero chemistry. The kiss sucked, and we both agreed never to try again.”

“And the other times?” Kika pressed, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Oh, just Truth or Dare,” you replied with a shrug. “Happened once or twice when we were younger. Nothing serious. More like a punishment than a kiss, honestly.”

The room erupted into laughter, with Inès nearly choking on her drink as she laughed the hardest. “I can so picture your disgusted faces,” she managed between giggles.

As the laughter died down, Inès perked up, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of Truth or Dare,” she said, her grin widening, “we should switch to that. Way more interesting than this.”

The group exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement building at the prospect of what chaos Truth or Dare might bring. You couldn’t help but glance at Charles, whose expression was still unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before he looked away. Whatever this next game would bring, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any less intense.

The questions escalated slowly, moving from tame confessions to more suggestive dares. Someone dared Dennis to prank call his ex, which he executed flawlessly, much to everyone’s amusement. Gigi had to show the last text she sent to Joris, blushing furiously as everyone gathered around to read it. Pierre, naturally, had been dared to whisper something filthy to Kika, who doubled over laughing and refused to tell anyone what he’d said.

Then it was Paul’s turn, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the room, finally landing on you. “Y/n,” he called out with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Paul’s grin widened, and the others leaned in, already sensing mischief. “I dare you to kiss Charles.”

The room went dead silent, every eye darting toward you.

You froze for a beat before scoffing loudly. “God, no”

“Oh, come on,” Dennis teased, smirking at you. “A dare is a dare”

“No, ew!” you shot back, shaking your head emphatically. “Anyone else in the world rather than him. I’d rather stick my tongue inside a trash can than kiss him.”

The tension seemed to settle, the group already laughing at your dramatic protests, until Charles’ voice cut through. Low, clipped, and tinged with something that sounded like a challenge.

“That’s not what you told me when you were sixteen.”

The room froze. Even the laughter died instantly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, your pulse roaring in your ears. His words hit like a slap, and you could see the regret flicker in his eyes almost immediately.

“That was a low blow, Charles,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Pierre leaned back with a grimace, gesturing to the group. “Guess it’s better to call this game quits, non?”

But you weren’t about to let it go. Swallowing the knot of hurt lodged in your throat, you stood, fixing your gaze on your brother. “No need to,” you said firmly. “Dennis is right, a dare is a dare.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to happen, but you didn’t stop. The anger bubbling inside you had morphed into something else—something that demanded revenge.

You marched over to where Charles sat, his eyes widening as you closed the distance. Without a word, you reached down, lifting his chin with your thumb, forcing him to look at you.

His breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, you crushed your mouth against his.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was heated, full of anger and defiance. His lips were warm and soft against yours, but the sharp inhale he took before his hands moved to your waist betrayed how caught off guard he was.

Charles froze for a split second, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. But when your tongue brushed against his lips, seeking entrance, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was racing, heat surging through his veins, and he struggled to keep himself in check.

Your hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You knew exactly what you were doing as your palm settled over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a playful squeeze.

He let out a strangled sound, his body reacting instinctively, and you pulled back just enough to whisper, “I might’ve had a crush on you back when I was too delusional to see you for who you really are, but at least I’m not the one sitting here, a 27-year-old guy, getting hard because he had to kiss his best friend’s baby sister during a game.”

The room erupted. Dennis and Joris were practically howling with laughter, clapping each other on the back. Gigi and Kika exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into giggles. Even Arthur had his head in his hands, laughing despite himself.

Charles, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was beet red, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Poor Charles,” Dennis teased, grinning wickedly. “Bet that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.”

Another wave of laughter erupted, leaving Charles sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Charles downed the rest of his drink in one go, standing abruptly. “I need air,” he muttered before making his way out of the room and into the garden.

He pushed open the glass doors that led to the terrace, the cool night air hitting his flushed face like a balm. The stars glittered overhead, but he barely noticed them as he sank into one of the patio chairs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His heart was still pounding in his chest, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your hand had trailed down his chest, resting on him with enough boldness to completely disarm him. And your words—sharp, cutting, and delivered with such venom—they were like a slap in the face.

He groaned softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking, making that comment about you at sixteen? He’d known it was cruel the second the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities, his regret, his jealousy—it all spilled out in the worst way possible.

The sound of the sliding door opening made him glance up. Arthur stepped out, holding two fresh beers in his hands. Without a word, he handed one to Charles and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the faint hum of cicadas. Finally, Arthur broke the quiet.

“You’re a dickhead,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his beer.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “I know.”

Arthur turned to him, his expression softening slightly. “That comment, mate—it was out of line. You really hurt her with that one.”

Charles sighed, staring at the bottle in his hand. “I know,” he said again, his voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was, and that’s the problem.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…” Charles paused, struggling to find the right words. “She makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. And then when she said all that stuff about how she’d rather kiss a trash can or anyone else but me…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—reacted. Like an idiot.”

Arthur studied his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “You know, it’s okay to feel things. But lashing out like that? That’s not how you handle it. You deserved what she did to you after that comment. Hell, if it were me, I’d have punched you.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, she went for humiliation instead. And it worked.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh, it definitely worked. She got you good. But seriously, Charles, what’s your deal with her? One minute you’re at each other’s throats, and the next, you’re looking at her like…” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words.

Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She gets under my skin. Always has. And for the longest time, I told myself it was just because she’s Pierre’s sister, and I shouldn’t feel anything for her.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I do. I have for a few years now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re in love with her.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the silence spoke volumes.

Arthur let out a long breath, tapping the neck of his beer bottle thoughtfully. “You’ve got to stop letting that eat you alive, mate. Either you tell her how you feel, or you let it go. This whole act of yours, pretending you’re indifferent while secretly wanting her? It’s not working. It’s just making things worse—for both of you.”

“I know,” Charles said quietly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates me now. And maybe she has a reason to.”

Arthur gave him a pointed look. “She doesn’t hate you, Charles. She’s angry, sure. And maybe a bit hurt. But hate? No. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Charles frowned, replaying the kiss in his mind. The anger, the passion—it had been overwhelming, intoxicating. But there had been something else beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally.

Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Start by apologizing. And I don’t mean a half-assed apology. Really apologize, Charles. Own up to your shit. Then maybe, just maybe, you can start fixing things.”

Charles nodded slowly, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it was too late to fix things with you, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that it might not be.

------⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆₊⁺------

previous | next

taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator @dilfsaresohot @freyathehuntress @sarx164

[unfixablebabyyy]

so i just read You and was obsessed w the perspective and also i just love getting a lil peak into dennis's brain so this is a something i wrote idk (also slightly inspired by that one meme of that anime girl lol)

(nsfw, minors DNI)

Dee's taste in... well, everything is absolutely abhorrent, but her taste in people is especially repugnant, which is why I can't fathom why such a striking creature would ever consider her a friend. What do you see in her? She's annoying and rude and abrasive, but you, you're none of those things. And I knew that the second I met you, but I had to be sure. So for the last week or so I've been doing a bit of research and it turns out, you really are just perfect- kind, smart, fun, absolutely stunning. Your only flaw lies in the fact that you're so incredibly naive. You leave your doors unlocked, your windows open, you always walk around the city with headphones on and your face in your phone. You're such an easy target. Don't you know how sick the world can be? But it's ok, it's not your fault- you're prey. Good thing I've got my eye on you. I'll protect you, even if it means you never go outside off leash again.

And now, as you sit across the bar from me, I can smell your perfume and I just want to drown in it, in you. You're half turned away, joking with Charlie as he throws darts, and from your side profile I can make out the tiny bumps of your nipples under your shirt. The past three nights you've come with Dee to the bar, you haven't worn a bra. You're clever, but not subtle. It's beyond cute. When you turn to me, I make sure my gaze lingers on your chest a second too long. I want you to know that I noticed.

"Hey!" I could never get tired of your voice. I need to know what it sounds like after a long night of crying.

"I.D., please."

You giggle. I've been carding you since the first night you came in, it's become a joke between us. Really, I just love reminding myself how young you are. When you hand it over, I brush my fingers against yours. I pretend to examine it and nod approvingly before handing it back. You grin, and this time, you brush your fingers against mine.

"Alright, what can I get you?"

You bite your lip, "Surprise me." Of course you want me to decide for you. I smile. I could surprise you. I could slip you something and we could have a night full of surprises. But not yet.

"You got it." And I know exactly what I'll make you- I saw the cranberry juice in your fridge and the vodka on your counter while doing my research. You were at work.

"Just don't make it too strong." Don't worry, I won't start making them strong until you're at least three in. Your eyes go wide as the song playing over the jukebox changes from some Dire Straits Mac had put on to Depeche Mode. "Personal Jesus". Kind of on the nose, but you won't notice.

"Oh my god I fucking love this song," you're so bubbly, and I know, I saw the album sitting on your record player. That's why I queued it up when Dee mentioned you'd be stopping by.

"I saw them when I was in middle school," don't forget, I'm old enough to be your daddy. I was in my twenties when you were born. You like that- I can tell by the way your cheeks get a little more pink.

"Ugh you're so lucky, I would love it if they toured again," I slide you your drink and smile.

"Well, if they do, I'll take you." Did your dad ever buy you concert tickets? I bet he did.

"Then it's a date," now you're really blushing, "or whatever." You're so sweet it's making me lightheaded. 'Or whatever'? So submissive. I imagine if I were to take a bite out of you I might get a toothache.

"It can be a date," of course it's a date. You bring your drink to your lips and sip and god I wish I could just reach over and taste you. You smile as you set it down.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think maybe you like me," Like you? Last night I was looking at custom dog bowls for the cage I'm going to put you in. I can't sleep at night without touching myself to the thought of cumming inside of you, marking you, making you mine. I don't like you, I want to cut you open and crawl inside of your ribs and hold your heart in my hands.

"You're adorable," I could rip you apart with my teeth. You cross your legs and readjust in your seat. Again, not subtle. I wonder just how wet you are. I mean Jesus Christ, all I have to do is look at you and I can practically hear that little lamb heart beating in your chest, and I can only wear this wool for so long. Sooner or later you're going to see the teeth and the claws. Maybe they'll scare you, maybe not. Either way, it won't matter when they're making you bleed, and judging by how red your face gets when I speak to you, I think you'll bleed easy. Bruise easy, too.

"Do you flirt with all of your sister's friends?" you're starting to get a little bolder. I lean in so that my face is inches from yours, like I have a secret. Your eyelashes flutter.

"No. Only you," I won't play your games, I want my intensity to bring you to your knees. The last couple of days have been fun- toying with you, making you wonder whether my charming smiles and compliments and gentle touches were platonic or not. But it's time to show you who's in charge. You bite your lip. I swear to god I can smell the pheromones on you.

It doesn't take me long to get you drunk enough to slip out the back door with me while everyone else argues over a game of pool. You really are such a lightweight. As the door swings shut behind us, I cup your little face in my hands and press my lips to yours. I don't want to. What I want to do is rip your clothes off and pull you to the ground and watch as the panic begins to rise when I slap my hand over your pretty mouth to muffle you. But that could be dangerous and I have to control myself. You kiss me back and slip your hands under my t-shirt where they roam across my chest, up my shoulders, down my back. It's giving me goosebumps and making it harder not to hurt you. I decide to test my limits. When I push you up against the rough brick exterior, I shove a little too hard and you yelp. But it only seems to make you want me more. So when I lean in to kiss you again, I bite down on your bottom lip, and you moan. Of course you're one of those girls. You love the abuse.

My hand finds your neck and you gasp even though I don't tighten my grip- I just want you to know I could- I want to. Someday I will- I'll choke you so hard and for so long you'll pass out, and then I'll smack your face until you wake up, just to do it again. I'll make you beg for the privilege of breathing. But not tonight. If I ever want to get to that point, I have to stay focused. Besides, just the feeling of my fingertips on your throat is turning you on- I can feel a wet patch forming on my knee where I shoved my leg between yours.

The heat of your body is making your perfume stronger and I feel like I'm going insane, like I'm on the verge of doing something depraved. You push your hand into the waistband of my jeans, then my boxers, and I can't help but growl when your fingers wrap around my cock. As you start pumping your hand up and down, I lose myself for a moment and dig my fingers into your neck. You whine, and when I release, I notice the dark red crescents my nails left on your soft skin.

It's best if I make my hands busy, so I work on the button of your pants as you continue to play with me. I groan into your neck as you squeeze me hard. Pretty soon I'm going to have to pin your wrists to the wall. When you do it again I bite your neck hard enough to serve as a warning and you quickly soften your grip as your jeans inch down just enough. Good girl.

You shiver as the night air breathes down the alley. I can feel your pulse in your cunt as I touch you over your panties. You're so pathetic, you easy little whore. I haven't even bought you dinner and you're already about to let me fuck you stupid next to a dumpster behind my bar. But I won't. I'm gonna make you beg for it. I want you to be so achy and needy for my cock you'll let me do anything to you. I can't fuck you tonight, you haven't earned it.

I sigh and retract my hand. "You're drunk," I press my lips into the crook of your neck and practically feel you deflate against the wall. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Oh," your voice is so sweet and soft, "ok."

I pull away and brush a loose strand of hair from your face before planting a kiss on your lips. Relax, angel. I'm not done with you. You pull your hand out of my pants and the absence almost hurts.

"My car's just down the street, I'll tell Dee you got sick," I brush my thumb across your cheek and peck your forehead before snaking my arm around your waist and leading you down the alleyway. At the end, before we step onto the sidewalk, you stop.

"Did I do something?" Your eyes are so big.

"Consent is really important," I lie, "I just want you to feel safe with me," it'll be all the more enjoyable for me when you realize you're not. My answer seems to satisfy you.

When we get to my Range Rover, you raise an eyebrow, "Nice car."

"Thanks, Frank bought it for me when I got into Penn," it doesn't matter if it's true, now you think I know how to take care of something for a long time. I've established my ability to commit.

"Jesus, isn't that Ivy League?" And just like that, you see that I belong to an elite community of scholars.

"Yeah."

In the Range, you begin looking through my CD collection, pulling out albums you recognize, asking about ones you don't. You like old music, old cars, old men. You mention that your dad introduced you to Christopher Cross, so of course I slip it into the radio and skip to Sailing and tell you it's my favorite, which is true, but I happen to know it's yours, too.

I pretend to be lost and ask you where to go even though I've made the drive at least 20 times in the last week. When we get to your place, I park the car right outside of the familiar front doors and look up at your dark window.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" you spread your legs ever so slightly. So obvious.

"How about I cook you dinner tomorrow night," you'll act like a whore when I say, first I've got to teach you some manners.

"When?" you don't want to leave.

"I'll call you." Get out.

You step out onto the curb and wave.

"Goodnight," I say and you turn and head in. I don't leave until I know you're inside, safe. In fact, I don't really leave at all. I park the Range a block away and walk back. Your light is still off, but even in the darkness, I can see you up there. You really should close your curtains, especially when you're inside, naked and panting, humping your pillow like a bitch in heat.

[oopsnewaccount]

The One That Didn't Like You/Dennis Pt. 1

Summary: Dennis doesn't seem to like you... but you like him;) part 2 is smutty. Er. Smuttier.

Warning: sexual themes

...

Why couldn't you have fallen in love with Kyle from Food City? Or Jace from high-school band? Or Louis from Tinder? No, you had to catch feelings for the person least interested in you. Miss Patricia said that was wrong, she seemed to think he tolerated you more than he did. Jade and Barry shared the sentiment, albeit a bit more dramatically, they tried to tell you he was completely definitely in love with you. Kevin even argued that he must have some feelings for you. And Hedwig, well Hedwig kept asking if you could name your kids after him. You hadn't talked to many of the others about it, you weren't as close with them. However, even with people whose opinions you would usually trust without thought assuring you that Dennis did not find you disgusting, you were utterly unconvinced.

Dennis was a refined, intelligent, put together man. He probably preferred a woman more along the lines of those standards. You did not fit that image. Your dismissal of Dennis's alleged feelings were not solely based on your insecurities, however. As comfortable as you were with everyone from Patricia to even the Beast and all the personalities in between, you had never been able to create a connection between yourself and Dennis. It wasn't for lack of trying, you used to always try to talk to Dennis when he was around. He wasn't rude to you by any means, you could just tell that he was uncomfortable. He averted his eyes, answered quickly, and never initiated a conversation. At first you thought maybe you had an unevenly buttoned shirt, or a stain on your jeans, that maybe his OCD was the reason for his discomfort. However, no matter how you dressed or meticulously inspected yourself it was never enough.

You couldn't believe you had fallen for him in the first place. It wasn't as if you were in love when you first met him, though you couldn't lie, seeing his body language and expressions did make you fairly attracted to him. You had primarily only found him attractive for the longest time. Your infatuation didn't start until one night when you had stayed over at their place. You were up very late, sitting in the kitchen and sipping on a glass of water. Dennis had heard when you tripped over your own pajama pants and fell outside his door. You hadn't disclosed your reasoning for requesting to stay at their home, but it was clear something was bothering you. Dennis approached you slowly.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," you mumbled.

"You alright?" he asked. He stayed a good distance away from you, not quite willing to sit beside you or even stand beside you.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping he would think the redness was from your hand and not your tears. "Yeah, fine."

Dennis simply stared at you for a second before he turned around and left without a word. You almost burst into tears then, not sure what you had expected, but hoping for something more. It was a good thing you didn't though, because mere moments later he returned. You couldn't speak you were so shocked when he walked up behind you, placing a much too big for you sweater around your shoulders. The warmth you felt startled you, as you honestly hadn't even realized you were cold. Dennis smoothed the shoulders down over you, pressing out all the wrinkles. It was because of his OCD, but in that moment it just felt like a tender touch.

"It's my old one, you can have it. I know Kevin makes it pretty cold in here." He rumbled, his low voice sending more shivers down your spine.

You barely mumbled a thank you as he left, staring wide eyed at his retreating back.

It was sad that this was what turned the tables for you, but now anytime you saw him you felt a rush of emotions; nervousness, attraction, longing... honestly it was embarrassing. From that moment on you were sure every interaction was different, at least in your head. You thought he looked at you with a slightly difficult look in his eye, but it was probably nothing.

Part of you hoped he wouldn't be home tonight, but part of you hoped he would be. You had requested again to stay with them again tonight, and Jade had cleared it with you. As you wandered down the endless corridors to get to their home, you tried not to think too much about Dennis and just focus on the directions you'd memorized to get to them. Two rights and a left later and you stepped up to their main door, raising a fist to knock.

"Hold on a minute," you heard Jade stumble to the door, checking when you heard a thud and a curse. The door swung open and Jade froze, expression shifting from a welcoming smile to a rather coy one. "Well hello, foxy lady," she teased.

You flushed, pulling down your skirt. "Shut up," You stepped by her, hanging your purse on the coat rack. "thanks again for letting me stay over... again,"

Jade ignored you, striding over and spinning you around to face her. She bit her lip, giving you a once over. "Well if you're tryna catch his attention you're definitely on the right track,"

"I'm not, shut up!" You were lying. You definitely picked out a pleated black and yellow plaid skirt with an oversized black off the shoulder sweater for a reason - and the lack of bra was also for a reason. It wasn't too obvious, though. You weren't that brave.

Jade was, though. She reached out and gave your boob a squeeze, laughing when you squealed and swatted her away. "What's this for then?"

You tried to hide your smile. "I just felt like it."

"Well I'm impressed but I'm not the one you're trying to impress," Jade giggled. "Sit down, I'll start the movie."

You flopped onto the couch, pulling your skirt down over your thighs. It was pretty short...

You had a bad day. A really bad day. Your roommate was a bitch but she charged low rates. On days when she was particularly bad you stayed over with Kevin and the alters. In your heated rush to pack your bag and head out you had made a rash decision. You were mad at your roommate and your landlord and some asshole on the freeway and when you thought of him, Dennis too. So you were going to make it hard for him to ignore you. You knew he had a thing for pleated skirts and obviously braless girls, Barry had made fun of his fashion taste enough in the past. You were gonna piss everyone off today. However, as you walked down the corridors your anger cooled, and you had begun to realize what you were wearing, just as you were now, sitting on the couch.

You couldn't focus on the movie at all. You were too stressed that Dennis would take the light at some point tonight, or that Jade would convince him to. You didn't think she noticed your discomfort. By the end of the movie you had wiggled your skirt so low it was hanging lower on your hips, and Jade was almost asleep. She let out a yawn, stretching her arms above her head.

"It's late girl," she stood, rubbing her eyes. "I'm gonna head to sleep."

You breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully she'd go to sleep and nobody else would get the light, and if she didn't you'd get to bed fast anyway. "Okay, I'll go soon too."

"Gnight, Y/N." Jade mumbled, shuffling to her room.

You stayed there for a moment before finally getting up the energy to stand. You were tired too. You winced at your skirt's waistband cutting into your hips. You glanced around the corner, making sure there was no sign of Jade before you pulled up your skirt. Geez, it barely covered your ass. You hoped you hadn't flashed anyone on your way there...

You decided tonight you would grab yourself a glass of water first and then head to bed, so you grabbed your bag and made your way to the kitchen. You stood on your tippy toes and grabbed yourself a glass. You filled it with water and began to walk to your room, but, because you were ever a klutz, tripped over your own feet. Now thankfully you didn't fall, but you did definitely drop the entire glass on the floor. You cursed. The glass somehow didn't shatter, but did leave a rather large puddle and roll all the way under the table. You decided you would tackle the puddle first. You managed to soak most of it up with half a roll of paper towels pretty quickly, you just needed the glass. You knelt down, spotting it on the other side of the table. Shifting to your hands and knees you almost had to go completely under the table, but you did manage to grab it. Just as you grasped the glass, you heard a voice behind you.

"Fucking hell."

You knew that voice anywhere. You cringed inwardly, scooting out from under the table and trying your best not to look at Dennis, who was undoubtedly disgusted by the mess he knew you just made. "Sorry, I dropped my glass... I cleaned it up, and the glass didn't even break, see? I -"

You broke and looked up at him, but froze when you saw him. His expression was not one you had seen before. His fists were clenched and so was his jaw. His eyes were not on the damp floor or the unbroken glass, but on your skirt. You swallowed. Oh yeah, your skirt. You were just bent over in front of him. He had to be blind to not have seen all the way to your thong.

His chest heaved under his white night t shirt and you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. "What... what are you doing?"

"I..." you swallowed, slowly standing up. "Cleaning up my mess..."

He wasn't satisfied with that answer. He just stared at you, his face and body so tense it looked like he was fighting something. You pulled down your skirt a little, and his eyes darted down to it.

"Why are you wearing that? You never dress like this,"

"You know what I dress like?" you cringed inwardly. That was not the conversation you should be having. You didn't know what conversation you should be having, but if wasn't that.

"Yes, I've been around you and seen what you wear. It isn't that."

You felt a little offended by his attitude towards you. Usually he was passive, but right now he was being so aggressive. "Why does it matter? Maybe I had a date or I just thought I looked good,"

His expression changed. "Why did you have a date?"

"I didn't," you admitted, half wishing you'd have lied. "But I could've,"

"With who?"

You blinked. "Nobody, I just said -"

"You said you could have. You could have had a date with who?"

This was a strange conversation. You could almost, almost see jealousy in Dennis's eyes. So you made a decision. If you were wrong this would be the most embarrassing moment in your life, but if you were right...

You stepped forward, pulling your skirt back up on your hips. You noted his lingering gaze. "Dennis, why does that matter? If I want a date I will go get one. I have nobody pining over me or waiting for me so I have no reason not to. So if I want to pull up my skirt and take off my bra and go find somebody who thinks I'm beautiful and wants to take me home I will. I have nothing stopping me, do I?"

You were at a standstill. You wouldn't speak until he spoke first. You felt triumphant, confident.

Then, Dennis turned to leave.

You watched in shock as he rounded the corner, all of your confidence draining. You were wrong. "Fuck you and fuck me," you mumbled. Tears welled in your eyes. "Asshole."

"What was that?"

You shook your head, grabbing your bag and stomping down the hallway with hi.. "I said fuck you and fuck me, you asshole."

"Why?"

You stopped, spinning to face him. "Because you can't be a normal person. You can't just reject me or tell me you're not interested, you just walk away. You walk away like your better than me and you are I guess but you don't have to be such a fucking dick about it!"

"Reject you?"

"Yes, reject me. What you think I dressed like your fantasy chick and stare at you all the time because I'm interested in somebody else?"

Dennis looked stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. You felt your heart beat slow. You were at another standstill, but this time he was cemented in place.

"You didn't know that?" you asked.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

You felt your heart melt as his voice broke. You thought it had been obvious. "Because... you're sweet, deep down. You're protective, you care so deeply for Kevin and the others, you're smart and eloquent ... I love your accent, you're so identifiable from the others, you're handsome and brave... because you're you, Dennis."

Dennis had tears welled in his eyes, and he looked like he was assessing you, searching for a reason to doubt you.

You decided to take another risk. You walked to him slowly, giving him enough time to back away if he needed. You stopped right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body. You moved incredibly slowly, giving him even more time to back away, but he still didn't. So you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. It took him a moment but to your surprise, he slowly wrapped his arms around you too. Your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could feel it, but you could feel his too. His body was firm and warm and you never wanted to let go. You felt his breath on your ear as he nuzzled into you.

"Is this a rejection hug?" you mumbled.

"No," Dennis's chest rumbled as he spoke.

You squeezed him lightly, gently starting to stroke his back. It took him a moment, but you felt Dennis's hand shakily, slowly lower. With one hand he played with the hem of your shirt, and with the other he gently rubbed the place your bra would be. You slid a hand under his shirt, letting it rest on his side and giving him permission to do the same.

His hand slid under slowly, just barely grazing your skin with his fingertips before he let himself lay his hand flat on your back. He shuddered as he felt up your bare back, imagining what was on the other side. You could feel his hesitation to touch you any further. Your body was screaming for him to touch you, but you were also scared of this being a one time thing. You loved him, this would be more than sex for you.

"Dennis?"

He retracted his hand, assuming he had crossed a line. "I'm sorry, I -"

"No no," you grabbed his larger hand, holding it as best you could in yours. "If you want to take me into your bedroom and screw me and then pretend it never happened I can't do that. I can't get you for a night and never have you again, I want so much more with you. So tell me now, please."

Dennis stared down at you as if you had three heads. "Nobody's ever looked at me like you do," he mumbled.

You flushed and looked away, focusing on his hand. He pulled it from your hand and instead engulfed yours with his. He gave it a squeeze. "Please don't ever stop," He said.

You couldn't keep the smile that spread across your face off. You brought his hand to your cheek, pressing against him and closing your eyes. He released your hand and held your face for a moment before he moved again, threading his hand through your hair and cupping the base of you head. He watched you closely for any sign you wanted him to stop. You made sure not to give him any. Slowly, he leaned in, stopping again just before your lips touched. You stood up on your toes and pressed your mouth on his, your whole body electrifying. You'd fantasized about this for so long, and it was everything you'd ever dreamed of. He was perfect, the hand on the back of your neck firm hut not painful, his other hand traveling down your side and under your shirt to squeeze your waist. You couldn't decide where to put your hands first. He was finally yours to hold and squeeze and just touch. Your right hand cupped his jaw, loving the feel of him moving in the kiss. Your other hand mimicked his, under his shirt and feeling up his back. You moaned into his mouth and he gripped your hair along with your neck, and you squeaked when he pulled you forwards. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I... I want..." you couldn't get the words out, or you couldn't decide on them, you weren't even sure.

He understood. "You sure?"

"Yes."

[words-4u]

unexpected visit - m.k

pairing: melissa king x librarian f!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: SOOO sad the pitt is over but i can't wait for it to come back. truly one of the greatest shows i've seen.

the smell of books is something you will never tire of. not when you were younger and certainly not now. surrounded by books is how you always imagined you’d go, it’s most ideal to you; peaceful, quiet, in between so many worlds and yet alone. it’s certainly how you live, given your chosen career.

it was a quiet tuesday evening and you were pushing a cart of books down a carpeted aisle. you picked up a book on the history of war, scanning the spine for the authors last name. your eyes went back to the shelf and scanned the section until you found the appropriate spot, slotting the book in it’s rightful place.

you were an hour away from closing and barely anyone was in tonight so you put in your earphones, pressing play on some classical music, you let ‘the four seasons: spring 1’ ease you into your closing routine. you even hummed a bit as you went down the aisle putting books back where they belonged.

then there was a tap on your shoulder, it was light, but it spooked you nonetheless. startled, you took out your earphones and turned around.

behind you stood a woman, not much older than you, holding a stack of books. glasses were slightly skewed on her face, strands of hair fell out of her ponytail and her cheeks were red. “oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you,” her eyebrows scrunched with concern.

you smiled at her, “not scared, just surprised.”

“i- um, want these to sign out. if it’s not too late. i ran here to make it on time,” she said, explaining her dishevelled yet adorable look.

“yeah, of course,” you nod. “follow me.”

you moved your cart of books to the side and walked out of the aisle with the woman in tow. “out of curiosity, what were you humming? it sounded beautiful,” she complimented.

“oh,” you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “i didn’t realize you heard that.”

“sorry, i didn’t—“

“no, it’s okay, really,” you reassured her. “it was a classical piece called ‘the four seasons spring 1’ originally a piece by antonio vivaldi but reworked by a contemporary composer called max richter. it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ll hear,”

she gave you a slow nod, “i will have to check that out.”

“I highly suggest it,” you said as you made it to the front desk. you walked around and stood in front of the computer as she placed her books on the desk. her library card sat on top of the first book which you scanned first.

It was quiet for a moment before you spoke, “not to sound like a creep but i-i haven’t seen you here before. are you new… to the area?”

her eyes lit up, like she was glad you noticed. “i am actually. well, new to this part of town.”

you look through her stack of books.

tintinalli’s emergency medicine emergency department resuscitation of the critically ill roberts and dedges’ clinical procedures in emergency medicine

“and clearly… a doctor?” 

“yes! i’m starting my emergency medicine rotation next week and i want to be as prepared… as one possibly could be,” she responded as you scanned each book.

“that’s good. i’m sure you’ll be great,” you gave her a soft smile and finished checking her books out. but you were also checking her out. she was smart, inquisitive and pretty in an understated way. you rarely meet people that captured your attention like she did so as the reciept printed, you decided to shoot your shot, “would you… by any chance, want to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

“as a date?” she inquires. this came as a surprise to her, no one has ever asked her out before. it felt good. 

“only if that’s what you want,” you placed both hands on top of her books and slid it across the table.

she swung her backpack off her shoulder and stuffed her books in, still pondering your request. then she looked up and with a definitive nod said, “i’d like it very much to be a date.”

your nose scrunched with smile you tried to contain. “great, okay. here’s my number,” you grabbed a scarp paper that you tossed aside earlier in the day and scribbled your information down. “and my name which is y/n, by the way,”

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m melissa but everyone calls me mel. i prefer it too,” she grinned. you handed her the paper which she took and held tightly in her hand.

“It was nice meeting you too, mel,” you smiled.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

one of your proudest moments was that day almost 10 months ago because you made that scary first step and it paid off massively. you’re now in a beautiful stable relationship with dr. melissa king and you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

while it was one of the things you admire about her, dating a doctor isn’t always the easiest. the long shifts often take it out of melissa with all the patients and running around the er she’s doing so when she comes over to your place, you know it’s a non-verbal type of night when she unlocks your door and goes straight into the washroom to rinse off. you make her something to eat as she’s likely forgotten during her shift and put her comfort movie on.

on days where’s verbal, she’ll greet you with a kiss and immediately get into all the cool things dr. robby and her senior resident, dr. langdon let her do and you listen with enthusiastic ears but today was neither.

today melissa, who often reads fictional books to unwind, forgot her copy of a wheel of time on your coffee table as she was rushing out to work this morning. since you have a day off, you decide to swing by the hospital and drop it off. 

you’ve never been to her hospital before and you’ve certainly never met the people she’s been working with, not cause she was trying to hide you as she’s told you before, there’s never been the right time. between caring for her sister becca, her job, and trying to be the best and most available partner to you, it was something that never came up and you’ve never really asked. but it was always lovely hearing about these incredible people that she works so closely with.

walking in through the front doors, you enter the waiting room. it was full to the brim with people even sitting on the ground with their backs against the way because there are no empty chairs.

you make it to the large window and smile at the woman behind the glass, “hi there, I’m looking for dr. melissa king. is she busy at the moment?”

before she could answer, an older blonde woman in grey scrubs holding a clipboard overheard your question and looks up, “you know mel?”

you look over at her and nod, “yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

“no kidding,” she smirks. “welcome to the pitt, sweetie. come with me,” she opens one arm as you say briefly say goodbye to the woman behind the glass. you walk up to the older nurse as she leads you through the er doors. “I’m dana.”

“y/n,” you respond. the moment you stepped into the sterile site walls, it hit you. the smell of the sterile air, the constant noise of monitors beeping, people walking briskly in different coloured scrubs. it was overstimulating to you as major shift from your quiet workplace but you could also see it as an organized chaos. 

you spot melissa as she sits on a stool clicking away at a computer. a taller man leans over the top of her computer stand as they debrief. dana leads you straight to her. “mel, you gotta visitor!”

melissa looked up, surprise and glee filled her face. “hey! what are you doing here?” 

the man stood straighter and locks eyes with dana who just stands there and smiles.

“hi baby,” you walk up to her and kiss her cheek. melissa blushes but steps back. she isn’t entirely comfortable with pda so cheek kisses was as far as you go in public. 

“baby?!” a woman walking by repeats. she pulls her black hair into a ponytail. “sorry… you?” she points at yourself, “and you?” she points at melissa. “wow…”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you tilt your head. you couldn’t help but get defensive over mel and your relationship.

“nothing. way to go, king.” she holds up her hand for a high five.

melissa high fives her, “santos, your tone indicates that you’re surprised?”

“well... yes but also happy for you,” she says as walks backwards, away from the group.

“mel, do you want to introduce us?” the older man finally interjects. 

melissa gives her head a little shake, “oh yes! of course! y/n, this is the dr. langdon, my mentor and langdon this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

you reach your hand out to shake langdon’s hand, “it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, dr. langdon.”

“likewise. i’ve heard lots about you,” he says, excitedly. his phone buzzes and he pick up a call, “yeah…oh twice in one day, lucky us.”

you reach into your bag and pulled out the wheel of time. “you forgot your book this morning and i know you love to read on your lunch breaks,”

mel took the book and held it close to her chest. she’s touched. “thank you, you didn’t have to,”

“I wanted to,” you brush your hand down her arm. 

“is it true mel’s girlfriend is here?” two new people join your growing group at the nurses station. 

“oh, wow, you’re real... a-and really pretty,” you smile at the two younger looking doctors.

“this is victoria javadi and dennis whitaker,” mel says stepping closer to you.

before you could say anothing langdon hangs up the phone, "okay whitaker, javadi, you're with me we got another car crash coming in. multiple people injuired. code trauma,"

"oh, what about me?" melissa asks.

"you..." langdon looks at his watch and starts walking away slowly. "can take y/n here on a tour or something."

he notices the hesitancy on melissa's face and posture. "i mean, mel. we'll be fine. y/n," he looks to you. "hope this isn't the first and last we see of you,"

you smile at him.

melissa nods, taking in langdon's suggestion and turns to you when her supervisor leaves. "do you want a tour?"

"i'd love nothing more," you beam at her.

melissa takes your hand and guides you through each station of the pitt. you met dr. robby on the way, who seemed run down but still warm, and dr. mohan who wanted to know everything about being a librarian.

you didn't know what to expect for you unexpected visit but you were glad you came. seeing melissa so confident in the place she calls a second home made your heart swell. other than in your arms, it's where she belonged.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

The Pitts

Pairing: Dr. Whitaker x Surgeon!Reader

Summary: Dr. Whitaker has never been a problem for her. That is until he becomes the problem. A top surgeon, known for her cool-headed precision and unshakable confidence, suddenly finds herself an absolute disaster whenever he's around. Her usual Casanova charm? Gone. Her composure? Nonexistent.

Author's Note: Normally pathetic wimpy white guys make my skin crawl but there's something about Dr. Whitaker. Leave me alone in a trauma room with that man and he'll crawl out.

The second Dr. Whitaker walked into the room, she felt it—that ridiculous, uncontrollable shift from composed and capable to absolute disaster.

Normally, she was unshakable. A top surgeon, one of the best in her field. She had the respect of her colleagues and the unwavering confidence that came with years of being at the top. She handled pressure like it was nothing, made life-and-death decisions daily, and never let anything rattle her.

But with him?

She was a train wreck.

It was like someone flipped a switch in her brain, and suddenly, she couldn't function. Her hands trembled, her words stumbled, and she found herself laughing at things that weren't remotely funny. Worse, everyone around her noticed. Everyone except him.

"Hey, nice scrubs today," she blurted out as Whitaker passed by.

He stopped, giving her a quizzical look before glancing down at himself. "Uh... thanks? They're just the standard ones."

She nodded far too eagerly. "Yeah, but, you know, you really make them work. These ones are really holding up!"

A beat of silence. Then, from behind her, someone choked on a laugh. She turned just in time to see Dr. Robby shaking his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smirk.

Whitaker, completely oblivious, just smiled politely. "Appreciate that, I guess."

As soon as he walked away, Robby leaned in. "Smooth."

She groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. "Don’t."

"Oh, I will," he said, thoroughly enjoying her downfall. "You’ve got it bad."

"I do not."

"Right. That’s why you’re out here complimenting a guy’s scrubs like he’s wearing designer."

She sighed, crossing her arms. "It’s not a big deal. It’s just... annoying. I’m a top surgeon, Robby. I perform complex procedures without breaking a sweat. And yet, one guy walks into a room, and I—"

"Turn into a bumbling idiot? Yeah, I’ve noticed."

She shot him a glare. "Not helping."

Robby chuckled. "Look, you’ve always been the one in control. Maybe the idea of someone making you lose that control freaks you out. But if you ask me? It’s kind of refreshing."

She frowned. "Refreshing?"

"Yeah. It means you actually care. And maybe, instead of fighting it, you should just... let it happen."

She opened her mouth to argue but found herself at a loss. Because deep down, she knew he was right. And yet, it was easier said than done.

Which was why she was completely caught off guard when, after yet another day of fumbling around Whitaker like an idiot, everything changed.

It happened so fast. One second, she was standing at the nurse’s station, and the next, Whitaker was walking toward her with purpose.

Then he stopped right in front of her, grabbed her face with both hands, and kissed her.

Her brain short-circuited. Somewhere in the background, she vaguely registered the sound of someone gasping, followed by another voice going, "Oh, finally."

When Whitaker pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but his touch lingered, his hands still cupping her face. "I, uh... just found out something interesting."

She swallowed hard, heart hammering against her ribs. "Yeah?"

He smiled—soft, amused, and just a little smug. "You like me."

Somewhere behind them, someone who was absolutely Dr. Robby muttered, "Took him long enough."

She wanted to die. But also? She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he absolutely was going to.