#he will take on as much of the blame as he can

[zuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzu]

that is always the question

I have the power to save and to help and to see the highest path but if god wanted them to take it, he would show then and not use me all the time....

I mean, is that what friendship is about? I'm tired of being in a 'helper-role', especially for men

It' like trying to earn to not get abused kind of and i don't have to earn that and nobody does

My heart breaks when i look back on the couples with kissing pictures on whatsapp and cheating in private and crying and all of that and also being dependent

I never saw love with the happy couples

The men i dated were so undesireable and they took me as a status symbol, showed me off and then got a copy of me and it'always like that

I'm tired of being nothing but a status symbol and not even the highest, lways just something they can step on to attract other girls

My character is so unique and different and they see that as disability but the looks i have as pretty, then blame me for not being who they want me to be

How can i even hide my outside. The truth is, when i do, i don't exist at all

I will never find connection that way and i really don't want to be alternative again

Everything i do is some kind of fetish

I'm so much more than that

It should be illegal to see yourself through the eyes of others because i hate it

“You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there.”

— Iyanla Vanzant

[katsu28]

hiiiii... first off, i wanted to say that i love your work so so much. i'm usually a silent viewer but i wanted to come out and tell you that your work is absolutely stunning. secondly, i was wondering if you were still taking requests from that prompt list in the pinned post. i was thinking 3,26 and 24 for the absolute comeback lando made during jeddah. if not, all good. do not feel pressured at all to write this ❤️

i appreciate u so much thank u!!! <33

3. hiding face in neck, 24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin + 26. kissing the top of their head. lando norris x reader, 1.2k. request something from here :)

Tenth on the grid isn’t near where Lando wanted to be for tomorrow’s race. Crashing out of qualifying definitely isn’t what he wanted either, not for him, but especially not for the team. 

Jeddah is a tricky track, so full of tight corners and narrow straights that it could’ve happened to anyone. It just so happened that he was the unlucky one this time around. 

He’s already beating himself up even before he gets out of the car. Fucking idiot, were his exact words on the radio, echoing through your headphones in the guest area of the McLaren garage, marking the exact moment your heart sank for him. It had already nearly jumped out of your chest as soon as you saw his car wobble, nearly stopped when he slammed into the barrier coming out of a turn. 

A little later, after the session ends and Verstappen has taken pole, you finally find Lando. His feet drag along the floor, helmet dangling from his fingertips as he trudges into the garage looking far from happy. 

His eyes find you immediately after he sets his gear down and you smile at him with what you hope is reassurance masking your concern, waiting for him to make his way over to where you are. He buries himself into your arms as best he can with the box wall between you, hiding his face in your neck like it’ll let him hide from the world. 

Things like this are inevitable in every driver’s career, but Lando has always taken the setbacks rather hard. Always blaming himself, getting in his head about all the what ifs and could’ve beens. You can’t solve his problems for him, but you can help in other ways. 

You squeeze him tightly, as if all your worries and his disappointment could melt away the closer you hold him. He’s here, he’s okay.

“M’okay, baby,” Lando mumbles, words muffled against your skin. Your fingers comb through the damp curls at the nape of his neck, palm splaying across warm skin just so you can feel his pulse under your touch. Lando pulls away just a bit, enough to speak clearly. “I’m fine, I promise. No damage—to me, at least. Car’s fucked.” 

“The team can fix it. They will fix it,” You insist, bringing one hand up to cup his face. Your thumb strokes over his rosy cheek, eyes boring into his with such firmness you want him to feel it too. “Everything will be fine tomorrow.” 

“Promise?” 

You can’t promise him anything—not really—but you nod anyway, sealing when you hope isn't an empty promise with a kiss. “I promise, Lan.” 

-------

You swear you haven't blinked since lights out. 

Your eyes have been glued to the screen above you the entire race, headphones clutched to your ears so you can hear exactly what's going on with Lando. You’ve even got the F1 app open on your phone to track live timings so you don't miss a thing from the depths of the garage. 

With every overtake, every gained position, your heart pounds a little faster. You’re even sweating a little bit, which would be odd given that you’re not actually the one in the car. But when your boyfriend is racing for his life out on track with only a handful of laps to go, you’re a ball of nerves. 

You mutter encouragement under your breath the whole time like Lando can hear you, fingers crossed so tightly it’s starting to hurt as the laps tick down to the final one. Anything is possible until he flies by that checkered flag. 

Lando crosses the line fourth. 

He’d put up a phenomenal drive, fighting his way past seven very impressive opponents, managing his tires, keeping up the pace. In your eyes, he’s a winner all the time, but especially now. With what happened yesterday, a P4 comeback is sure to put some confidence back in him. 

You find him chatting with Oscar after his post-race media duties, completely unaware of your appearance as you start to creep towards him from behind.

Oscar does notice, but doesn’t say anything when he spots you over his teammate’s shoulder, just tries his best to hide his grin so as to not blow your mission. 

Lando's still going on and on about tire degradation when you pounce on him from behind.

“Fucking hell!” He screeches, nearly keeling over backwards before he manages to get his hands under your thighs for support. At the excited kiss you smack to his cheek, he lets out a loud exhale. “Baby, don’t do that! I thought I was being mugged!” 

“In the middle of the paddock? Seriously?” You giggle, both feet back on the ground. You smile at the younger boy across from you. “Hi, Oscar! Mega drive today, congrats on the win.” 

Oscar’s cheeks tinge pink and he grins, rocks back on his heels a little. “Glad you thought so.”

“Alright, mate, don’t you have your own girlfriend to bother?” Lando huffs dramatically, hooking an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes playfully at his change in demeanor. “Go on, get out of here, kid.” 

“See you on the plane, old man,” Oscar shoots back, sidestepping the halfhearted swipe Lando takes at him. He holds his fist out towards you for a bump. “Great to see you again.”

“Likewise. Say hi to Lily for me.” You wait for Oscar to disappear into the team hub before turning your attention on your boyfriend, hands on your hips, brows raised. “Why are you like this?” 

“Me? Baby, he was seconds away from giggling like a fucking schoolgirl. I’m telling you, Oscar definitely has a crush on you.” 

“He has a girlfriend, Lando. You’ve met Lily, you’ve seen them together. He’s head over heels for her, and you’re being ridiculous.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. Let’s stop talking about him now.” 

You drape your arms around his neck, tilting your chin up at him with a smile. “You’re lucky I find your weirdness attractive.” 

“Luckiest guy in the world, I always say,” He hums, beaming back at you. “So, what’d you think of the race?” 

“You did amazing today, Lan,” You say, nearly squeezing the life out of him with your hug. He pushes in closer to hear you over the bustle of the paddock and you do the same, putting your lips right against his ear for your next whispered praise. “I’m so proud of you, d’you know that? I'll always be proud of you, wherever you finish, whatever you do.” 

“Yeah, I know,” He says bashfully, grinning ear to ear. His arms wrap tighter around you. “Thanks to you. My lucky charm.” 

“Nuh uh, that’s all you, baby,” You reply with a shake of your head. Lando can only smile bigger, kissing the top of your head four times in succession, four lucky kisses for his lucky charm. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ugh, beyond. I need a fucking shower,” He groans, tipping his head towards the night sky. His gaze snaps back to you just as fast, this time with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join?” 

“Way to ruin the heartfelt moment, you horndog.” 

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing!” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[marvelstoriesepic]

Where We Were When the Stars Came Out

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky and you take a momentary break from the chaos of your lives.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: brief mentions of past violence; references to PTSD; lots of fluff and coziness

Author’s Note: I honestly needed that fluffiness after all the angst of the fics before. So we can all thank my lovely dear for requesting this sweetness!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

They told you to take time.

They told you to make the best out of the little time off you got.

The last mission ended with too much blood in the soil, and Bucky’s hands were shaking again, and you started storing your panic behind your teeth.

So you left.

Not far. Not long. But far enough. Long enough.

Tony promised you some five-star hotel on some Caribbean island. But Bucky and you declined without hesitation. Because that’s not what you both thought of.

The cabin you are staying at isn’t fancy at all. It creaks like it has knees, groans like an old man when the wind pushes too hard at its bones. The wood is worn in places, kissed silver by time, and the windows fog up if you so much as look at them with a hot drink in your hands.

It sits quietly in the folds of a forgotten forest, between sloping hills and trees that reach toward the sky.

There is a lake nearby, flowing and bubbling along so serenely. Birds skim its surface in the mornings. You’d watch them from the window, your fingers curled around a chipped ceramic mug, back pressed against Bucky’s chest, his arms around you, his head on yours.

The world doesn’t know how to find you here.

And you don’t ask it to.

You cooked with what little the kitchen allowed earlier today. Bucky found joy in chopping vegetables with a dedication so high, as if it meant something. You teased him for measuring salt as if it mattered, as if it wasn’t just the two of you eating in socks with mismatched mugs and nowhere to be.

He burned the grilled cheese this morning because he just couldn’t stop kissing you on the countertop, worshipping you with his lips, his tongue, his hands, his voice.

The smoke alarm had screamed loud enough to wake the trees and he’d cursed under his breath, waving a towel around like the old man he is. You only laughed, leaned over the kitchen counter with your elbows popped up and soft eyes. He blamed the pan, the stove, the altitude. Because kissing you, he claimed, was never the problem.

The second sandwich came out golden, perfect, cut into triangles, and plated with too much pride. It tasted like freedom and cheese and warmth and Bucky’s love.

There are books left by strangers on the shelf. Dog-eared pages and notes in the margins. You'd read them aloud on the couch, legs tangled, your ankle over his. His hand absentminded in your hair, his thumb brushing behind your ear every few minutes like a compass realigning north.

He didn’t talk much but his kisses were hot like firelight.

And he listened as if the words were balm. Sometimes he closed his eyes. Not asleep, just still. Relishing.

You like him best like that. Breathing. Not bracing.

Tonight, you sit on the terrace.

It’s quiet here too. Just the two of you and the cold at the edge of the world, trying to sneak in past the seams of the wool blanket stretched over your bodies. Bucky is meticulous, always has been, especially with you - he tugs the corners down, beneath your knees, under your arms, around your shoulders, making sure your feet are covered like maybe he thinks the cold could steal you away.

“Warm enough?” he whispers lowly into your ear, accompanying the question with a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You nod with a contented hum, your cheek pressed against the curve of his chest, listening to the metronome of his heart.

The sky is a bruise fading into velvet. The kind of dark that is anything but empty. The kind of sky that reminds you how much you two survived to witness this.

The stars come slow.

As if they, too, have something to savor.

As if they know that you are watching.

“Do you hear that, love?” he asks, voice like soft gravel right at your ear.

You blink. Listen. The wind. An owl, somewhere far off. Leaves rustling like paper.

“What?” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “That’s the point.”

With a soft giggle, you kiss his jaw and move even closer, half in his lap, finding the dip of his shoulder, his arms around you pulling you into his warmth. He rests his chin on your hair, and you both exhale as if you’ve been holding your breath for years.

It smells like pine needles and earth. Like whatever he used in his beard. Like late nights that don’t come with battle plans.

Bucky is holding you as if he finally found something worth staying still for.

“I forgot there were this many stars,” you murmur absently.

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. Just looks up.

The stars have scattered themselves wildly across the sky, without pattern or apology. Bold and endless. Unfiltered. And Bucky traces them as if he is learning something, relearning the night. As if maybe he’d forgotten how to exist in a world where the sky didn’t end in fire.

“You see that one?” he points with a chin tilt, keeps his head pressed against yours. “Looks like a crooked arrow.”

You blink up. “No way. That’s clearly a lopsided cat.”

He laughs. Real and unguarded. Head back, mouth wide, nothing hidden.

And just like that, the sky isn’t the most beautiful thing in front of you.

You shift closer. He pulls you tighter. Kisses your hair.

“Okay,” you start softly, tipping your head up. “Pick one.”

Bucky hums half beside, half behind you. Thoughtful. His breath touches your hair as he shifts, metal arm tightening around your waist. He lifts his flesh hand, pointing toward a crooked mess of stars to the northeast.

“That one. Looks like a bird. Maybe a hawk.”

You squint. “More like a chicken,” you hum, grinning.

He glances at you. There’s a smirk playing on his mouth. Soft. Secretive.

“You’ve got no imagination, doll,” he states, a breathy laughter in his voice.

You scoff, playful. “I do have imagination. That’s why I see a chicken, babe.”

His smile is crooked. His eyes are full of adoration.

Your eyes continue tracing the constellations.

You are quiet for a beat, then you point higher, farther to a cluster shaped like that smile you love.

“That one,” you say quietly. “That’s you.”

He doesn’t look. Not right away.

“What do you mean?”

You let your fingers rest against his chest, right over his heart. “Don’t know. It’s just beautiful.”

He laughs. Quiet and startled as if the sound just slipped out before he had time to be afraid of it. You forget to breathe at the intense way he looks at you.

“God,” he breathes. Swallows. “I don’t know how you do it, sweetheart.”

“Do what?”

His flesh hand slips under your chin, tilts your face toward his as if he needs you to really see him.

“Make it easy to be soft.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, leans his forehead to yours and you watch him close his eyes.

“I’m happy to be of service,” you whisper fondly with a hint of teasing and he presses his smile against yours. Your half-lidded eyes close fully.

“I like it here,” you breathe against his lips.

He takes a deep breath that is filled with you. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Me too.”

“I could stay here forever with you,” you sigh sweetly.

“We could make it forever.”

Your eyes open and you meet his. There is a constellation in his baby blues as well. Their vastness is filled to the brim. As if someone dropped the whole sky in his eyes and never claimed it back. His emotions spread like stars. Tiny and shiny dots. So much glitter that nobody ever intended to clean off.

Before you can answer, something bright streaks across the sky overhead.

A meteor.

You gasp, eyes wide and sparkling.

“Make a wish,” you cheer in a whisper, a wide smile blooming on your mouth.

But Bucky doesn’t even look away from you for a second. And he doesn’t give himself a second to think about another answer.

“I don’t need to,” he murmurs tenderly, adoring. Full of love. “You’re right here.”

He pulls you closer again.

And you let him. You don’t laugh.

Because he said it without flinching. Because his fingers are steady and strong against your skin. Because his heartbeat is slow and in rhythm. Because the stars are out and they are not competing with headlights or gunfire or the screaming ache of the past.

Out here they just exist.

Out here the sky remembers how to be quiet.

And so do you.

[formulaonecrumbs]

Hiiiiii xoxo

I love reading your sibling au’s with the drivers they’re so good !!

Would you be open to making one about max Verstappen but as the little brother ? :)

i’m always gonna come find you

Max Verstappen x older sister!reader

summary: after their dad (jos verstappen WHEN I FUCKING CATCH U) left max at the gas station for a ‘bad’ race, reader takes care of him.

warnings: bad dad. hurt little max.

A/N: this situation was perfect for this cuz every time i’m reminded of it, i feel the primal urge to (1) KILL JOS (2) protect little maxie. also i didnt remember when this happened to him so i just made him 13, reader is 18. ENJOY MY LOVVVEEE. i love u, thank u anon, VERY MUCH 🫶

p.s. i won’t do the home film thing for any other sibling au’s when it comes to other drivers cuz i have that reserved for lando IM SORRY!! it’s just special to that series, hope u can understand :)

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

it was getting dark by the time she found him.

the gas station lights buzzed faintly overhead, a flickering, sickly kind of glow. max was sitting on the curb with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, helmet still in his lap like he couldn’t bear to let it go. he looked so small like that. so young. like the little brother she sometimes forgot he still was.

she pulled into the parking lot too fast, tires crunching over gravel, throwing the car into park and practically flying out of it.

“max!” she called, voice already cracking with worry.

his head snapped up immediately, eyes wide — and the second he saw it was her, his whole body sagged, like he could finally breathe again.

she ran to him and dropped to her knees without thinking, gathering him into her arms. he didn’t even hesitate — just pressed his face against her shoulder, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of her hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it. “i tried. i really tried—”

“shh, hey, no,” she soothed, pulling back enough to cup his face in her hands. his cheeks were pink from the cold, and his eyes were glassy with tears he was trying so hard not to let fall. “none of that, okay? you don’t ever have to be sorry with me.”

he sniffed hard, ducking his head a little like he didn’t quite believe her.

she brushed his messy hair back from his forehead, feeling her heart splinter at the sight of him. thirteen years old and already carrying the weight of expectations he didn’t deserve. already blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault.

“dad was mad,” he whispered. it wasn’t really a surprise, but hearing it still made her chest ache. “he said i embarrassed him.”

her hands tightened on him instinctively.

“dad’s wrong,” she said firmly, voice leaving no room for argument. “you hear me, max? he’s wrong. you didn’t embarrass anyone. you raced your heart out. that’s what matters. and leaving you here—” she broke off, shaking her head. “there’s no excuse for that. none.”

max looked up at her then, cautious, like he was waiting for her to get mad too.

but all he found was her, steady and sure and warm.

“you’re not alone,” she promised, her voice gentler now. “i’m always gonna come for you. always.”

his lip wobbled. just a little.

then he threw his arms around her neck again, this time holding on even tighter.

she hugged him back just as fiercely, rocking him slightly like she used to when he was little and scared of thunderstorms.

for a long time, they just stayed there on the curb, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world spun on.

finally, she pulled back enough to smile at him — a real smile, soft and proud.

“c’mon,” she said, standing and offering him her hand. “let’s get you home.”

max nodded, still silent, but he took her hand without hesitation, gripping it tightly like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

and maybe it was.

maybe it always would be.

THE END :>

[cheralith]

— party for you.

yukimiya kenyu — it's your birthday and your best friend has yet to show up to your party, his promise to you hanging on a thin line. (wc : 3.6k)

contains : gn!reader, no pronouns used, best friend!yukimiya, aged-up characters (20s), implied mutual pining, angst with comfort, fluff (unedited as of 04/27) a/n : happy birthday to my beloved yukki <33 wrote this piece with a slight twist as my gift to him ahaha. also very much inspired by "party 4 u" by charli xcx after i kept seeing all those scenarios from tiktok, esp since i'll be seeing her in concert soon !!!

There’s a tightness in your throat that you swallow down when you hear the phone start to ring, the steady and monotonous rhythm of ringback tone calling out with an echo. The hums are paced, in no rush to get to their destination, unlike the seconds that tick by as you stare at the clock.

It’s 5:23 pm. Yukimiya was supposed to be here nearly an hour ago to help you set up your birthday party that’s starting in thirty-seven minutes. 

Your nail goes between your teeth, an anxious gnawing starting to begin to try to raise your inhibition. Some of your friends that came early to also aid with setting up laugh and chatter about in the other room, ignorant to your apprehension that you thinly veil with a warbled smile. 

You blame yourself—your birthday fell on a weekend this year and you wanted to take the most advantage of everyone’s day off and have all the people filled with love to give you surrounding you on the day that you often felt most anxious on. An approval of sorts, you think, this urge to seek out that you truly were valued in others’ lives if they were willing to come celebrate with you.

But quantity doesn’t always equal quality. A good plethora of your friends and relatives have gathered in your apartment to celebrate your birthday, and while you cherish them for being here, there’s still that little crevice of yearning waiting to be filled by his presence.

Something is wrong with the camera, they say. 

“For some reason, there’s this weird glare that just won’t go away,” the photographer says despondently to Yukimiya, who fights the urge to contort his face in irritation.

He lets out a heavy sigh, something that bleeds urgency in a quieter manner to the photographer and pinches his forehead. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have minded this disposition at all—some of his payout for this shoot was by the hour anyway and he wouldn’t have minded spending a few extra hours considering all he had to do was stand there and look pretty.

But it’s your birthday today. And this is an event he can’t afford to miss. 

Being a rising celebrity is difficult—both of you understood that when he signed with his entertainment agency. But Yukimiya had made a promise to you years ago that you’ll still be of utmost priority despite his job, never wanting to thin your relationship even in the slightest despite knowing the possible restraints it might falter against. 

He has his fair share of last-minute rain checks, none of which he’s proud of, but none of the events that he had to bail out on were as heavy as your birthday—and Yukimiya wouldn’t forgive himself if he had to miss out on it today simply because the team was incompetent and unprepared. 

“I had to leave an hour ago,” Yukimiya says, pointing to the clock that currently reads 5:40 pm. Twenty minutes until your party starts. Forty minutes of his absence so far. “I’m sorry, but can we please quicken up the pace? I have somewhere to be after this.”

The photographer sneers at him. “Well we can’t exactly have a photoshoot with a camera, now can we?”

Yukimiya frowns deeply, but says nothing so as to not irritate him any further and to lengthen the excessive time. He excuses himself haughtily, going into the corridor of the building and pulling out his phone.

—(Y/N)🧡 (4:36 pm) : lmk when u get here! be safe on ur way! —(Y/N)🧡 (4:55 pm) : meguru brought party poppers haha —(Y/N)🧡 (5:07 pm) : hi just wanted to check up rq? is the shoot taking long again :(? —(Y/N)🧡 (5:29 pm) : checking up again? everything ok? —(Y/N)🧡 (5:43 pm) : checking in again, call me back if u can plz!

Missed Calls (2) from (Y/N) 🧡

Yukimiya bites his lip at the notifications, guilt seeping into him. The message he had sent to you after your first check-up text glares a red text on his screen, an exclamation point almost taunting him.

kenyu ! 👓 (4:44 pm) : I think the shoot might take some time again! I’ll try and be there ASAP, ETA 5:30? ( ! ) Not Delivered

He attempts a call, but the line shortly fuses, indicating his cellular service wasn’t going to do him justice in this time of need. With a waning patience, the grip he tortures his phone nearly crushes it and all he can do is just stare at the ticking time on his phone, praying that this will be over soon. 

It’s 6:45 pm and Yukimiya has yet to show up, let alone text or call you back about his whereabouts. The majority of the party guests have shown up, presenting you with smiles and presents and hugs, but none of them measure up to the familiar warmth of your best friend who’s absence fills in his place. 

It should be a fun event. Your apartment is scattered with party decorations, two large balloons indicating your new age bouncing around in your living room with your gifts and cake on the kitchen counter. Everyone is chatting and laughing about, bubbly and ready to party.

Everyone but you. 

You fix up a mask of gratitude, slapping it on whenever someone comes by and talks with you about life and all its other nonsenses. But the moment you’re left alone again, reality settles in you again. 

Sneaking yourself into your bedroom, you reread Yukimiya’s long birthday text that he had sent you at exactly midnight to ground yourself, trying to affirm to yourself that there’s no way that he would do a no-call no-show on your birthday out of all days, but you can’t help but feel a prick of tears in your eyes when you reread the last line of his text, biting your lip. 

—kenyu ! 👓 (12:00 am) : … As your best friend, I’ll be there for you, forever and always. I can’t wait to see you, happy birthday! 🧡🎉

Yukimiya is a good, honest man. You know that better than anyone. But you can’t help but feel doubt finding its way into your chest when you reread his final words of the text over and over again, it doing the exact opposite of what you wanted in the first place.

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against the closed door that blocks you from the liveliness of the party. 

The camera is back up and running, but Yukimiya thinks his luck is thinning by the minute, considering that people are now scrambling to try and find a replacement bulb for one of the lights that fused out just when they were starting to restart. 

Everyone is clearly irritated, but Yukimiya thinks that he’s on the leaderboard for who has it worst. He fists his hair in his hand again as he slumps over in his seat, the No Service in the upper right hand corner of his phone still lingering on his screen. 

It’s 9:01 pm and he’s still at the photoshoot, three hours past the start of your party. Everyone has taken notice of his evident absence, since many of your party guests knew you two were practically glued at the hip. His eyes heavy with exhaustion go to read over the messages people have sent him in the past few hours, a worry embedded in each text.

—Isagi (6:02 pm) : Yukki, are u still coming to the party? —Reo (7:24 pm) : Hey, Yukimiya. Not to scare you, but I think you’re worrying (Y/N). Do you need me to send an Uber to come pick you up? —Karasu (8:12 pm) : yukki, (y/n) is getting kinda stressed rn since you’re still not here. let us know if you’re still coming or not. —Kurona (8:44 pm) : We r about to cut the cake. I’ll save you a slice. Slice 🦈 —Nagi (8:54 pm) : whre u at lol :x

All of his replies have refused to send to his frustration, that dastardly red text under each of them making him grind his jaw. He’s been at this set for much too long—a few hours more than normal. He’s tired, his eyes heave, and all he wants to do is just come back to you and celebrate your birthday. 

“Yukki, start getting ready!” the photographer calls, making him lift his head up. “We’ve managed to find a bulb, retouch with makeup and meet me back here in five.”

He swallows dryly, stretching his aching limbs as he gets up from his chair. 

“How much longer do you think this will take?” he asks again for the nth time, making sure that his fatigue is visible to gather up some sympathy. “I’m really sorry, but I have an important event to go to tonight and I’m already more than an hour late.”

The photographer sighs and puts his hand on his hip. “Is it a funeral?”

Yukimiya blinks. “No.”

“Is it a sick relative in the hospital?” the photographer asks again.

Yukimiya shakes his head.

“Do you have an appointment or somethin’’?” 

Again, Yukimiya says no. 

“Okay well, then I don’t understand what’s up with this sudden urgency,” the photographer mutters. “You know, most people would really do anything to be in your position for as long as possible. You’re not even doing anything and yet you’re still getting paid, so what’s the deal?”

“I have a life outside of my job,” Yukimiya argues, his composure starting to falter. “I was supposed to be here for only three hours and we agreed I’d leave at 4:30. It’s ten past nine at this point.”

“What exactly can you have that is more important than being the face of Versace’s new cologne?” the photographer presses as he adjusts the camera, pressing all of Yukimiya’s buttons unconsciously. “Your ad will be all over the world, you’ll be collecting cash left and right! Opening new doors to endless opportunities! Tell me, Yukimiya… is there genuinely somewhere you have to be that’s more important than this?”

Yukimiya stares at the photographer for a moment, his words echoing in his mind, as if to tease him to consider them. But his stubbornness pushes through, as it always does, and he shakes his head. 

“My best friend’s birthday party is today,” he states lowly. “And I made a promise I’d be there.”

The photographer goes to glance at him from his peripheral vision before barking out a scornful laugh, one that makes some of the crew members and other models chuckle as well behind their hands. 

The photographer ceases his laughter eventually, despite heaving every once in a while. “Yukki, we’re grown adults. I’m sure not missing one party every once in a while would be too bad.”

Yukimiya’s amber hues darken suddenly at the photographer’s statement, disliking his tone and mockery. Was it so wrong to every now and then celebrate a person’s life? Especially if that singular person had changed their own for the better?

The photographer takes notice of Yukimiya’s expression, scoffing. “Don’t start giving me attitude now.”

“I’m not,” he attempts to excuse, despite the vein in his temple throbbing.

The photographer stills for a moment, examining his model’s stiff form, hands fidgeting with his phone. He looks at the window for a moment, taking account of the inky blue black that takes over the sky, then to the clock, then back to Yukimiya, whose glower is still evident. 

“Fine then. You’re a grown adult,” the photographer states with a sardonic tone. “I’ll let you decide. You can either stay here, do your job, and change your life for the better… or you can scurry off to your friend’s little birthday and we can choose another model who’ll actually appreciate the opportunity.”

Yukimiya tenses suddenly at the offering. The photographer had a point—this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that his agency had offered him. To be the face of a brand new cologne from a well-known fashion house meant that you had reached a height in his career, one that could possibly land him new brand deals or modelling chances. 

He’s sure it’ll do well in sales too, considering that his most recent drama he starred in had gained a massive amount of viewers that now know him by not only his face, but his name, a flock of admiration following him wherever he went. Yukimiya Kenyu, model and now an amateur actor.

He reflects back to you, suddenly. Your kind face flashes in his mind, your even kinder words echoing in his ears. About how you’ll always support him from the sidelines, that you’ll be there for him as his career skyrockets. You’ve always been there to support him in whatever decision he made to advance himself in the entertainment industry, always congratulating him with a large smile as he’d show off his newest photoshoot or point out an ad he was in. He had a habit of doing this—reflecting back to you during times like these, something to keep him grounded. 

Apprehension fills his nerves, another swallow running down his dry throat. Yukimiya glances at the prop cologne bottle nestled on a nearby table and picks it up. He lifts his phone up, staring at the date that announces itself on his lockscreen, with the little reminder of your birthday underneath. 

Then he looks back to the photographer, who patiently awaits his response.

Yukimiya clutches the bottle in his hand a little tighter.

The last of the party guests had left some time ago, the remnants of the party still ghosting about your apartment that you decide will clean up tomorrow, your body exhausted from all the emotions you had felt today. 

It’s 11:35 pm. Yukimiya hadn’t shown up to your birthday party. 

You reread your messages that you had sent him over the course of the party, each one of them still rather mild, but always just a slight bit tenser than the previous to indicate your worry. None of them have received a response. You’ve given him an extra three calls that went amiss and even left a voicemail with a tight, shaky voice to make him aware that it was okay for him to stay back and do his job… but just at the very least, let you know.

And yet, you still received no response.

The one person that you wanted to be there for your party had completely left you in the dark. You want to cry, merely due out of confusion and frustration, but you’re so tired you’re not sure you even have the energy to do so. They’ll just be saved for tomorrow, you think. 

You feel selfish for feeling like this—you were still surrounded by people that were equally as excited to celebrate with you, new memories being made for tonight, but the bitter aftertaste of Yukimiya’s absence has yet to dissolve on your tongue. He was your best friend after all, so for him to not show up without warning, especially considering he had promised to do so, made your chest ache. 

But you’re tired. Your eyes are heavy with sleep. You figure that your questions will be answered tomorrow. 

You shuffle yourself into the duvet of your bed, ready to completely knock out and recharge yourself from the happenings of today, when suddenly—your doorbell rings. 

With nerves electrifying, and your body shoots up at the sudden sound singing in your apartment at the odd hour. You pause, just simply staying in bed for a bit, before the doorbell rings again—twice this time, almost desperate. 

Caution prevails within you and you’re nothing less than suspicious as you creep outside your bedroom and into the main room of your apartment where the entrance is. It’s damn near midnight, and you’re not expecting anyone to arrive at this hour other than sinister things. 

The doorbell rings again, the chime tolling almost hauntingly so. The person outside is stubborn, whoever they are, and they don’t seem to be leaving soon unless they get a response. You tiptoe towards the entrance as softly as possible, avoiding the creakier parts of the floorboard to make your presence known. 

The rapid knock the outsider raps against your door makes you nearly shriek with fright when you’re just about to peer your eye into the peephole, the sudden sound making you paralyzed in your position, but a familiar voice suddenly melts away at your frozen limbs.

Yukimiya’s voice calls out your name from the other side. 

“I-It’s Kenyu! Can you open up, please?” 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you open the door, your desperation to see him overtaking your common sense. The door swings open and Yukimiya reveals himself in a rather disheveled manner. His hazelnut hair is messy, stressed strands straying over. There’s a light mist of sweat on his forehead, and his clothes are wrinkled. He’s even panting.

But in his arms are a large bouquet of neatly arranged flowers, two gift bags stuffed to the brim with wrapping paper of your favorite color, and a small cake in a clear plastic container that he somehow hasn't messed up in the slightest despite all the items he’s carrying. 

All of them are a visible display of effort in his typical Yukimiya-esque fashion.

You take a step back a bit, still startled.

“Kenyu,” you start dryly, “w-what is—”

“I’m sorry,” he splutters, chest still heaving. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to bail on you. I swear to God, I didn’t—but the team was being inefficient, they were holding me kinda hostage, m-my messages weren’t sending—”

At his last words, your eyes widen, the heaviness in them dissipating. 

“—then my train got delayed and I tried to take a cab, but there was traffic, and then I couldn’t find a bakery that was open this hour for the cake, and then—”

“Kenyu,” you say softly, cutting through his rambling with a gentle cease. Yukimiya blinks, pausing and looking at you wondrously. 

You take a step back, welcoming him in. “Come inside, first.”

You find that there have been a plethora of obstacles that Yukimiya had to go through to get to you today as he sets down his many gifts, one of them being that the building the shoot was in had terrible service proven by the mass amount of texts he had tried to send you hours earlier. You find your gaze softening at his waterfall of unsent replies as you scroll, the ache in your heart fixing itself up as the reality of the situation settles in. 

“They got so mad when I left,” he weakly chuckles when you return his phone back to him. “There goes that gig, I guess. My manager’s gonna be so pissed.”

Time stops for a bit.

“Wait, what?” you shake your head, looking up at him with widened eyes. “You didn’t finish the shoot?” 

Yukimiya, still with a grin on his lips, shakes his head. Your jaw nearly unhinges itself at the shock, and you scramble to say something but he beats you to it, pressing a finger to your lips. 

“I know what you’re going to say. Something about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” he says. “But… I swore to you I’d be here for your birthday, and my promise to you goes deeper than the one with my agency.”

His words cease your own attempt to rise up in your throat, succumbing you to a stunned silence as he tenderly places the candles on the small cake. You can only watch as he strikes a match, gently lighting up the wicks of the candles that gleam brightly amidst the dim glow of your kitchen light.

Years ago, when he had gotten upgraded to a professional entertainment agency from his modelling one, you had nervously explained to him over one dinner that you were scared that he might drift away from you as he climbed the stairs of stardom. You and him were best friends after all, and had stuck by each others’ sides for years on end, and you figured that there would be no point in your life that you would imagine yourself without him—the very image of it frightened you.

But Yukimiya had sworn to you, your pinkies intertwined as he wiped away some tears, that there’d be no lifetime where he’d leave you behind. That regardless of what happens, he’ll make sure you’re still there with him. He’s still there with you.

He holds the cake up to you, admiring how the marigold from the candles glimmers on your face as you stare at the cake. 

Yukimiya turns to the microwave’s clock, a soft smile on his lips as he reads the time.

It’s freshly 11:59 pm, and Yukimiya is now here with you on your birthday with less than a minute to spare. 

“We’ve still got some time,” he murmurs tenderly, fondness in his eyes that illuminate from the candles. “Happy birthday. Make a wish.”

Your eyes close, veiling you from the way that Yukimiya looks at you so dearly from across, taking the time to admire all your best features. He mouths a specific eight-letter word silently to you just before your eyes open again, his hushed proclamation to you kept hidden for himself—just until he’s ready to announce it to you, full and true.

You take a deep breath… and blow the candles out. Just five seconds shy of midnight.

It’s a few years later; you’re both older and wiser. Your lives are still just as intertwined as they had been, unwilling to untangle themselves anytime soon, even with your differences. Your career has flourished kindly, and Yukimiya’s own has just started to peak after his hit drama. 

And yet, despite all the ads you’ve passed by of him modelling, despite all the headlines that shine his name proudly, despite all the articles about him being a rising star… he’s still here for you, with you.

And he always will be.

a/n : thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are the best way to support creators you enjoy, and leaving one will always be noticed and appreciated ♡ !!

[imnez-daydreams]

"(you’re a little different—he wants to make you believe in yourself more. he wants you to prove it to yourself. make yourself say it and mean it, not just because he’s telling you. that you are capable, that you were meant for this. that this is where you belong. that you have a safety net in the form of your attending—that he’ll be there with an outstretched arm, waiting incase you need him. you won’t, he knows. but you still need to feel him there. it’s working, he knows it is.)"

need me an older man who praises me and believes in me. but its so sweet how even though jack knows reader wont need him, that they are more than equipped to handle things and get it done, he still hovers near. just in case.

"that’s something he’d worked you out of, he thinks, a certain smugness seeping into his veins, satisfaction rolling through every muscle."

grr hes so sure of himself i mean hes right but grrr. i like the inclusion that reader was looking around for him, but that jack knows that reader is more than capable of doing this. and still watches after. and how reader is still watching too. these idiots in love.

"and jack swallows hard. it’s one thing to have a flirtation, to teach you, to mentor you. to make you cups of coffee and tea and buy a box of those protein bars that you like the best, because the other ones taste weird. to defend your yellow cup with his best glare, to stop in the aisle at costco and buy a duplicate pair just incase he ever needs to replace it. you love that yellow mug, and well, he loves—"

acta of service !! defending reader's cup is so sweet wadaheck. it really do be like that in the office but the fact that jack has thought about buying a duplicate in case anyth happens ?? :"(( and also that. that "he loves-" GIVE IT TO MEEE.

he is entirely unworthy of your love. he knows it, deep down. loving him would break you. trying to piece him back together would drain you dry. and he doesn’t want to do that to you, you deserve better. maybe he can take care of you at work, but outside of these four walls, if you saw what he was like with idle hands and an empty apartment, or if you saw him up on that roof-

crying. jack abbot listen to me you are not unworthy of love !! sunshine reader is gonna fill your heart with so much happiness and youre gonna take it >:( !! i that next line of how reader snaps back jack to reality. reader has become his lifeline that reels him back to the present. im soft.

"would you do that? would you tease him about the age difference? or would you prefer to ignore it, set it aside and try to forget about it? it’s a heavy question for breakfast after twelve hours on. "

its realistic to have jack think about the age gap i feel ! (not that id have any problems with it lololol) and i love these small peeks into his mindset, how he thinks he doesnt deserve reader's love, how he's scared of what reader thinks about their age gap. it helps to build more on his character !

"how could he have been so stupid? trying to fight what you did to him when it was like gravity, like the tide, like every other force in this world that he knows about and cannot control. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and so is he."

that is such a beautiful beautiful description omg. jack coming to realise that their love, him being loved was inevitable. that it was fate, destiny, bound to happen. how they fit together like 2 peas in a pod.

jack bought matching yellow cups !! the domesticity of it all im so :"((

op/shea this was sooo warm and fluffy to read :). im so soft now !! thank you for writing such a sweet story about jack being taken care of and loved (because he deserves it). i really enjoyed it !! day by day i fall deeper into the rabbit hole of shawn hatosy/the pitt/animal kingdom and the urge to watch gets stronger, i blame my moots haha (affectionate)

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

summary: jack abbot thinks he's too broken to fix. you just want to take care of him the way he takes care of you.

author's note: here it is! the first longer night shift reader and jack fic ♡ i hope everyone enjoys!

word count: 3.7k

tags: night shift reader x attending jack, comfort and angst, people are making bets (guess who wins!), patient death/loss, age gap relationship (implied but no ages specified!), idk i went a little crazy for two hours

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. 

he knows that. there haven’t been that many people in his life who have been able to manage it. his wife was one, robby’s sort of another. jack has this thing—he has to at least try to take care of those around him before he can accept any of their help for himself. it’s almost a test of worth, to determine that it’s not a burden he’s placing unduly on anyone. it’s an exchange, he decides, a fair exchange. that way he’s not forcing anyone, because he knows how hard it is, how hard it can be. robby sees a side of it. his wife saw another.

and out of the black, heading into the blue, you are beginning to see it. he doesn’t know how it happened this way, just knows that the sweet resident who had come onto his night-shift because the day shift was beginning to be too much, was now the very reason he doesn’t head straight up to the roof after a very, very long night. 

he knows it’s not easy, that every time he loses a patient, he glances at the clock. the moment someone’s life was over, and the very moment that is going to ruin the lives of all the people who loved them. before he’d start the countdown—how many hours left on this shift? how many until he can go to the roof and breathe, scream and yell and sit in silence and watch the city wake up beneath him. 

it’s selfish. he momentarily checks out after time of death is called. robby does moments of reflections. maybe that’s how he’s able to manage it sometimes, break up the grief into little pieces throughout the day. 

jack isn’t like that. he’s always been the kind to bury, nestle it somewhere deep inside and keep adding, adding, adding. add until it’s about to burst, and then go to the roof and let some of it out. maybe if he tried robby’s way, he wouldn’t have felt like this for so long.

where can so much grief go? there’s no outlet for it, not the way jack does it. some of the things he buries are lost inside him forever, no escape, no exit.

and then you come along. 

jack’s prided himself in the fact that he’s good to the residents. they get more confident under his tutelage, make decisions more firmly, make them quickly and execute them correctly. that’s why robby had sent you over to him, hadn’t it? because you doubted yourself too much. because you felt like you weren’t making the right call.

from seven in the morning to seven at night, the place is crowded. it’s all hands on deck but there’s just a smidge too many hands, especially when there’s students. you were able to blend into the background for a couple months, but it’s just plainly wrong to let it hinder your education.

that’s why robby had sent you to him, right? for your education. to make you a better doctor, better than you already were, which was saying something. 

because jack abbot thinks that you’re incredibly gifted. gifted in the things that he can’t teach someone, in ways that he can’t explain. you have a special touch. patient-care is your forte. if he had to pick the nicest resident, it would be you. but you don’t believe in yourself. 

and he had sent himself to the task of fixing that. it’s what jack does, what he’s always done. patch it up and send it out.

(you’re a little different—he wants to make you believe in yourself more. he wants you to prove it to yourself. make yourself say it and mean it, not just because he’s telling you. that you are capable, that you were meant for this. that this is where you belong. that you have a safety net in the form of your attending—that he’ll be there with an outstretched arm, waiting incase you need him. you won’t, he knows. but you still need to feel him there. it’s working, he knows it is.)

it had been working perfectly fine so far. you build your routine, get yourself settled, start answering trauma calls with a run. 

one time he has you and ellis start the incoming together. tells parker to ask you questions, justify all of your decisions to her, but let you call the shots. when the charge nurse tells you the details, you head straight outside. you pull a yellow gown for yourself and the gloves in your size—those ones are baby blue. and then you pull another gown and the black gloves—the ones in his size. he watches from the nurse’s station, watches ellis take them and watches you look around, like you’re waiting for him to show up. he doesn’t, not this time.

you handle the case perfectly. oddly enough, he can’t seem to remember any of the specifics about it, even though he’s the one who signed off on your detailed note. 

jack watches from the door. you’ve got your back to him, and ellis looks up and sees him, but he shakes his head. he wants to see how you do without him, after so many with him. and you’re perfect—just like he knew you would be. the nurses move in tandem around you, listening closely to your orders. ellis asks questions and you answer, and you don’t sound like your answers are questions themselves—though you had at one point, not too long ago. 

that’s something he’d worked you out of, he thinks, a certain smugness seeping into his veins, satisfaction rolling through every muscle. 

you look out the other door, the opposite of where he’s standing. you stretch your neck like you’re trying to see what’s out there, and then you turn your attention back to your patient right away.

and once the patient is stable, that’s when he comes in. you’re doing it again, looking out the wrong door and as much as he wants to deny it, as wrong as it is, he knows you’re looking for him.

“good work, doctor,” he says, and you jump a little. you turn to look at him, but he’s looking at your senior resident for the assessment.

“dr. abbot, i-” 

“she did great,” parker comments, and you stop to beam at her.

“thank you.” ellis peels off her gloves and gown, black gloves that had been meant for him going into the bin. she gives you further instructions and you nod, and when it’s just the two of you, he finally turns to meet your eyes.

and the way you smile at him blows him away. it’s all over your face—from your gleaming eyes to the cheeks that must hurt, the lips that he can’t stop thinking about. there’s something else there too. neither of you want to say it, though you try.

“thank you, dr. abbot. i-” the words falter and die on your tongue. but in your joy, how pleased you are with yourself for once, you find the confidence he’s been wanting you to have all along. “i was looking for you.”

and jack swallows hard. it’s one thing to have a flirtation, to teach you, to mentor you. to make you cups of coffee and tea and buy a box of those protein bars that you like the best, because the other ones taste weird. to defend your yellow cup with his best glare, to stop in the aisle at costco and buy a duplicate pair just incase he ever needs to replace it. you love that yellow mug, and well, he loves—

“dr. abbot? you okay?” 

and it’s normally him asking you that.

“i’m fine, kid. you did great.” 

“so did you.” 

-

when jack walks by dana at around seven-ten, her and the other nurses go remarkably silent. 

“yes?” he asks, grabbing the black thermos from the counter where he’d been finishing his notes. it’s also from costco—chipped and bent all over the place, little flecks of silver making an appearance around the bottom. you’d made a joke about it once—even your cup is salt and pepper. and now he thinks about it every time he picks it up.

“what? i didn’t say anything,” dana replies, settling an ipad back in the charging port, moving around papers at the station. “but just so you know, the pool’s up to three hundred.”

jack sets his cup down a little harder than he means to, forearms resting on the sterile counter.

“what pool?” he demands, and dana shrugs. if he didn’t love her so much he would kill her.

“i’m just saying. if you’d like to help your favorite nurse contribute to her retirement fund, then you can—”

“oh? i can what?” 

it’s just not this easy for him anymore. you are full of all the good things that he so clearly lacks, made of so much sunshine it’s pouring out of you. you have love in stores, ready to be doled out at any time, to anyone. patients, coworkers, even the medical students you just met a couple minutes ago. he hears you—offering the flashcards you made for boards and the interview tips that got you to match at your top choice. 

he is entirely unworthy of your love. he knows it, deep down. loving him would break you. trying to piece him back together would drain you dry. and he doesn’t want to do that to you, you deserve better. maybe he can take care of you at work, but outside of these four walls, if you saw what he was like with idle hands and an empty apartment, or if you saw him up on that roof-

“dr. abbot?” 

your voice seems to always be enough to snap him out of it. 

“goodbye, dana,” he says, walking up next to you, thermos in hand. your eyes briefly glance down at it, smiling. “what’s going on, kid?” 

“remember what you had said? about breakfast?” and you smile at him like getting breakfast with jack abbot sounds like the great thing in the world right now. it’s almost seven-thirty and you probably haven’t slept in fifteen hours, and yet you keep smiling, big eyes blinking at him while you wait patiently for an answer.

“yeah.” he clears his throat, looking back at dana momentarily. she’s smiling at him, and then she turns to smack the side of robby’s arm, pointing him the direction of you two. “that sounds great. after you.” 

he shouldn’t have said yes. he knows what’ll happen if you start thinking that you can fix whatever is wrong with jack abbot, and he would like to avoid that entirely. but you beam at him again like you had earlier with ellis, and jack is a lot of things, but one thing is he is not, is a jerk. he won’t disappoint you about this, not when he’s secretly relieved you’re eating after shift. he’s seen you with sugary granola bars and pastries when you should be filling up on protein after a shift like this.

so he follows you out, ignoring the exchange of money behind him. 

breakfast is nice. you get chocolate-chip pancakes and he makes you get eggs too, and then hands you strips of bacon from his plate too. he hasn’t seen you like this before, and he tries to soak it into his memory. 

(something deep inside says that he should cut the tether before you get too attached. it’ll only hurt more to prolong it, to let it linger. the possibility of something between the two of you. and then you offer him a bite of a pancake drenched in syrup and everything in his head goes silent.)

breakfast becomes a weekly recurrence. there’s a twenty-four seven diner he loves just up the road from the hospital, and he’s been before with shen once, robby a couple times if their schedules lined up. it’s not particularly unusual to see him there with you, though he feels like he’s committing some sort of a crime.

you wear pullovers from your alma mater. the backpack you bring to work is the same one you used all four years of college and medical school, a fact you are very proud of. when he looks at it—his chest hurts. it’s hardly worn, looks like it’s in great condition—a couple of pins tacked on the side where your water bottle sits and a pocket for your badge and wallet in the front. he has to force himself to remember that you’re younger than any woman he’s seriously talked to before. his wife had been two months older than him, something he used to tease her about all the time. 

would you do that? would you tease him about the age difference? or would you prefer to ignore it, set it aside and try to forget about it? it’s a heavy question for breakfast after twelve hours on. 

you take him to another place that you like, too, closer to your apartment. you both eat bagels and sip on juice—orange for him, apple for you—and that’s where you learn more about his time as a medic. the breakfast burrito place near the park is where you tell him about how you’ve wanted to be a doctor since you were twelve, that you thought you’d had a calling for pediatrics and you’d even been the president of the peds club in medical school. and then you’d rotated through the emergency department third year and completely changed your plan.

you share a stack of waffles—chocolate chip with strawberries and whipped cream, at your insistence. he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to say no to you, not when you ask him so sweetly. he learns about your kitten and how you’ve always been scared that you’re going to do the wrong thing and until very recently, that you’ve just been playing pretend and you’ll get caught one day. 

and back at the diner is where he tells you about his wife. and you listen intently and nod and hold his hands when his voice breaks and run your fingers over his knuckles. you don’t let go of his hand the entire walk back to your apartment, and outside the door, you give him a hug. and the two of you stay like that for a while. that’s when you and jack kiss for the first time. slow, steady, a kiss that you’ve been dreaming of for months. it takes all the air out of your lungs and when you finally go inside, you realize your shoulder is a little wet and your lips are swollen. 

even hours later, jack can still taste apple juice on his tongue.

another week after that, you both answer the incoming trauma together. it’s six-thirty, so someone might come and take over, but it doesn’t work out that way. it’s a man who got t-boned at an intersection on the way to school drop-off. his wife and daughter are getting their cuts stitched, you think, and the patient had been slurring at you when he came in. thank god i put her behind her mom today. thank god, thank god- and jack does something he doesn’t always do. 

“get the mom, get the kid. let-let them talk.” 

and while you do the ultrasound and the e-fast and order for type and cross-match, you hear his daughter crying and a wife telling her husband how much she loves him. 

and you and jack try everything, everything you can think of, but sometimes, there’s just no coming back. he doesn’t even make it to surgery. jack walks out first, and then you, and you see his daughter turn away from the medical student that’s tending to her wound, standing up with hopeful eyes like you and jack have good news for her.

and you feel incredibly broken. your day hasn’t even started yet. and you lock eyes with jack for a second—just a second, and he stares back at you, hardened, in a way you haven’t seen before. you’ve both lost patients, lost patients together. sometimes it’s just different, in a way that you can’t explain. 

it must have been an hour, an hour and a half you spent in the trauma room. the entire day shift is there now. 

“head home, kid,” jack says. “i’ll talk to the family.” 

you bring your hand to his shoulder, pulling back until he turns to face you. 

“i’ll talk to the family.” 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of. he tries to tell you something but you shake your head at him, the hand on his shoulder lingering. people are looking, he thinks. but then again, he’s never cared that much. and in this moment, neither do you. 

you head over to the family, excuse the nurses and the student doing the stitches. you pull the curtains, and all he hears is sobbing. 

and when you come back out, he know you held it together in front of them, but your shoulders are shaking, your chin is wobbling. and in front of all those people, he brings you in for a hug. 

a real hug—like the one you had in front of your apartment. jack’s grip is tight on you, his arms caging you in, covering everything so you can’t see anything, can’t think about anything else but him. he rests his chin on your head, and closes his eyes, and then the two of you walk back to the lockers together. 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. and somehow, without ever telling you, you know all about how to do it. you know a lot of things about him. you know what this job does to him and that if he had gone to tell that family they lost their father and husband, that he would’ve ended up on the roof this morning. you know that jack abbot doesn’t halve any of his burdens, that he’s been afraid to rely on you like how you rely on him. to need you in the way that you need him. and you know that he won’t tell you what he needs, but you’ve gotten somewhat adept at figuring him out, just like how he has with you.

that day you leave holding hands. neither of you are in the right mood to go out for breakfast, so he elects to take you back to his apartment, an arm swung around your shoulder the entire walk there. you’re still a little teary-eyed, wiping them away at his front door while you head inside with him. 

you’ve never seen the inside of jack’s apartment, but he’s mentioned it in one of your many conversations. the record collection, his wife’s plants that he takes care of, the kitchen that’s too big for one person. 

the morning light hits the place beautifully. you stare out of his window while he heads to the kitchen, and you look around. first the records, then the plants, just like he’d described. there’s pothos and peace lily and little succulents along the windowsill. you look at the rest of it—incredibly fitting. a brown leather couch and a bookshelf with medical textbooks and a couple of mystery thrillers. you laugh to yourself, imagining jack curling up with one of those books at night.

when you turn back, he’s cracking eggs and laying out strips of bacon on the pan. you head over to the other side of the island, taking a seat on one of the stools. 

“no pancakes?”

��you’re gonna get cavities, y’know,” jack says, and you smile at him. 

“it’s worth it.”

“i love your smile the way it is right now. don’t go changing it on me.” and that does make you smile, staring at jack making breakfast for the two of you. it all feels so domestic. like you’re just walking into the life that was meant for you all along.

you’ve only been on the night shift for a couple of months. 

how could he have been so stupid? trying to fight what you did to him when it was like gravity, like the tide, like every other force in this world that he knows about and cannot control. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and so is he.

“mel texted me. she won the bet,” you say, setting your phone down. you lean against your hand, inhaling the smell of the first of many home-cooked meals you’ll eat, made by jack abbot.

“that so? i thought dana was a shoo-in.” 

“dana got the timing wrong. thought it’d happen during the night shift. but technically, you hugged me at eight-thirty, so..” 

“and what was the winning combo?” he stares at you, probably for the millionth time since you met him. and still, somehow, it’s enough that you feel it in your bones. you want to look away but you don’t. “you want toast, kid?” 

“yes please. she didn’t say, but i’ll ask. later.” 

you and jack settle at his wooden dining table ten minutes later, a plate full of protein and a promise that he’ll get you something sweet when you wake up later. jack lifts up his pant leg and takes off his prosthetic, setting it against the chair and relaxing a little bit more. you can see his shoulders loosen up. when he catches you staring, he smiles back.

“what?”

“nothing. do you have juice?”

“i think there’s some apple in there. i can-”

“no, i got it.” you get up, walking towards to the fridge. “i thought you didn’t like apple.” you know he doesn’t—he prefers orange. 

“i changed my mind.” you smile back at him, finding the apple juice and setting it on the counter. 

“cups?” 

“the cabinet on your right. no, your other right.”

you laugh and open it up, your laugh dying in your throat as you stare at two yellow mugs sitting front and center in the cupboard. you pick them up, bringing them over to the table with jack, and stare at him.

“oh,” he says. “i can explain. it’s incase-” but you don’t want to listen for another second, so you sit on his lap, pressing your lips together and forgetting all about breakfast and apple juice.

♡ thanks for reading!

[thrasherella]

Weekend Getaway‧₊˚⊹

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ synopsis ~ stepdad!Nanami takes you for one of your regular weekend retreats over at his friend Higuruma's house; this time Higuruma's extra needy since you've been busy with work/friends/life and haven't been able to come see him and Nanami has been hogging you all to himself :(

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ featuring ~ nanami x reader, higuruma x reader

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ tags ~ porn with plot, fauxcest, stepdad, mention of 'uncle' but no actual relation, daddy kink, lots of praise, praise kink, cuddles and creampies, non-protected sex, fingering, oral sex, blowjobs, cunnilingus, sloppy make-out sessions, age gap, threesome, sharing, exhibitionism, squirting, spitting, cum play, cum eating, domination, free use, generally other fun sexy things~💋

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ a/n ~ i'm posting this instead of sleeping; the idea of being shared between the two hottest suited zaddies in jujutsu kaisen is making me feral 🫠 i don't normally write in second person pov soooo hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do~! any constructive feedback/thoughts are welcome 🩷

~ Part One ~ Wake Up Slut 😛

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

stepdad!Nanami who knows the only way to get you up and out of bed at a decent hour on Saturday mornings (make that any morning) is by waking you up with his fat cock.

Even in your mid-twenties, you still spend a majority of your time at his house rather than your apartment; not that Kento minds one bit. It's not like your mother was ever home anymore, either at work or out meeting with friends or one of her many "social groups"; the book club, the garden club, the women's volunteer group for this that and what-have-you. She seemed to have time for everything except her family.

You had taken full advantage of this, having wanted Kento yourself since day one of meeting him; he was a storybook gentleman and ridiculously handsome, how could you not? So, who's to blame a girl for getting her stepdad a little too drunk one night, knowing he was in the middle of an unwanted dry spell, so thirsty he felt like he was dying, and offering him exactly what he needed to satiate his long ignored hunger...?

He insisted that you still sleep in separate beds, but you usually wake up just as his thick tip pushes past your already soaking folds, always lying prone on your front, your pussy practically sucking him in as he sinks into you with a low hum, a high pitched squeal involuntary escaping you as the feeling of him filling you as soon as you awake overtaking you; it's intoxicating.

This morning is no different.

"Good morning sweetheart..." he leans down and whispers hotly against the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps down along the back of your neck as your pussy clenches around him, heat flaring in your lower belly. "Time to rise...and...shine..." he punctuated every word with a hard thrust, the sharp plap! of skin on skin echoing in the previously quiet room.

You moan into your pillow, feeling yourself nearly drooling, still half asleep; back arching, hips pushing back against his, Nanami ruts into you as deeply as he can, one hand pressing down against your upper back between your shoulder blades, pinning you down to the mattress. His strong thighs nudge into the back of yours, and you can't help it as your eyes roll back as little hot, almost electric waves crash through your core at the low grunts and huffs he's making above you with each push.

He pushes you down harder as his pace becomes erratic, those soft grunts becoming rumbling growls, mingling with your higher pitched cries as he hits that spot and you're both sent over the edge. With a heavy, low groan you feel his cock twitch and throb inside you, spilling his hot load into your tight walls as he tries to push even deeper.

Your still a shaking mess as he eases up on the hand pinning you down, again leaning close to hum against your ear, "You're such a good girl, wear something light for today, we're going over to your uncle Hiromi's house...now get up," he swats one of his large hands against the curve of your soft ass and you let out a sharp moan, the spot stinging hotly as your pussy throbs...

stepdad!Nanami who later has you pinned up against the wall of your walk-in closet, black boy-short panties pulled down past your cute little ass just enough so that he can shove himself into you from behind, admiring how beautiful your back was as he helped you clasp the strap of your bra.

"Gunna wear that cute little sun dress we both like? Hah...fhhuck...keep squeezin' me like that darlin', that's it...h-hah..." He pushes you harder up against the wall and you freeze, mewling softly as you press your ass back against him, his hand now at the back of your throat. "He's really excited to see you...ah, hah, f-fhuck, fuck gunna fill you all the way up sweetheart, I wanna be dripping out of you before we get there so your uncle doesn't forget who this pretty little pussy belongs to..."

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[ippilulu]

To Be Seen - a Caleb drabble

a/n: Just me thinking about how at the end of the day, Caleb was just human. A little boy who voluntarily took on the weight of his world. Always the one being depended on, never the one who would depend on another. What does he do with all the feelings that he never lets see the light of day?

Caleb was familiar with resentment. For someone who banished it as soon as even the very thought of it entered his head, he was unwillingly quite familiar with it. Because in the end, his gravity evol didn't work inside him, unfortunately. It didn't let him erase all of those uncomfortable truths into a black hole.

It was always "Caleb, do this for me.", "Caleb, I want that!", "You're such a good brother, Caleb.", "Please, you're the only one who can!" Smile after smile after smile, an easy, effortless nod- a "Sure, why not?" following right after.

He's not complaining, of course. This was all his fault- he was the one insecure enough to let people pull him in all the directions they were going, losing parts of him as they did. How could he blame them for something he was so careful they wouldn't see?

He always wanted people to see the Caleb who smiled like he had all the answers in the world. Not the one broken by it. Not the one holding the weight of it, trying to hold onto her- his world.

After all, nobody would want Caleb the troublemaker, Caleb the whiner, Caleb the child. He'd buried those versions of him long ago when he'd vowed to become her shield, and he never regretted it once. If he could, he'd do it again. It was all for her. But some days... some days it got too much to keep hidden even from himself.

"...Caleb? You alright?" He shook his head, an instant smile appearing on his face. "Hey pipsqueak. Remembered I exist today, did you?" She rolled her eyes and hit him on the head. "You dummy, stop trying to hide it from me. What's wrong?"

The glimmer of worry in her eyes felt like a personal failure. How dare she ever have to worry about anything?, when he was still around?

But before he could deny it, she hugged him, leaning into the side of his hair. Her soft breathing fluttered some of the longer strands on top.

"What happened, Caleb?" He powers down his megawatt smile- there was no point to it anymore.

Caleb sighed. Hesitated. Planned out what to say. "... I... I don't know. I'm just..." Her hands gently scratched his scalp, and he huffed in laughter as he realised she was treating him like a cat.

"Caleb, could you run and get me some cinnamon?" She was staring at him so she immediately noticed the brief glimpse into his real feelings. "Sure, grand-" "Grandma, let me! I need to run a bit-getting really antsy stuck inside all day." The old voice resounded from the kitchen. "Sure, dear."

"Pip... What are you doing?" She got up, patting her muscles proudly. "These are gonna help me take real good care of you today."

Caleb flustered slightly, hiding it in another moment. "Woah there. You've gained what, and already showing off, huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, to which she rolled her own eyes and pat his head. "Get some rest, Caleb. You're exhausted." He shook his head, smiling again. "Nope! Slept a full five hours yesterday, so I'm all ready to go." She raised her eyebrows briefly, but shook her head.

"I'm not talking about now."

Oh.

Something within him loosened, just a bit. It felt so nice to be seen.

Reminder to everyone who reads this that you all deserve someone who sees you, and acknowledges every part of you. Don't bottle up those negative feelings in fear of pushing people away. I'm in the same boat, and it sucks. It's scary to even think about anything else, I know, but we can do this together 🫂 I'll be rooting for you!

[shysuccubusstuff]

She needs me:

Content: Unstable! Caleb + SFW (meaning no smut) + Panic attack + Unstable mental health + Non proof-reading. I'm not romanticising any kind of mental health, seek professional help if you feel like your mind may be unstable, remember to take care of yourself.

Note: Yes, I love him even when I know he isn't in a good mental state, guess we have that in common, also shoutout to Amnesia (the otome game) for getting my type in games straight up :) (Toma you're crazy but I like it). Song that I heard while writting!

Unhinged! Caleb who sees overprotection as the purest representation of love. He knows it may be bad that he keeps using your affection for him to keep you with him, but could you blame him? He feels that this is the only way to keep you close to him for as long as possible, only a fool would let this opportunity escape. So he takes advantage of it, always using those puppy eyes he has to look at you a certain way, always reminding you of the sweet moments the two of you spent while you were younger, with him always making sure to get you everything you wanted even if i took him quite a few part-time jobs, refusing to let you feel less in front of the children who had an actual stable family.

Unhinged! Caleb who can't help but feel slightly happy each time you ask him for him to take care of you. He knows it, that he shouldn't feel as some kind of dog being petted, but just how could he not feel happy? You had been the one to reach out to him, the one who called him in the middle of the night asking him to get you some medicine for your sickness... Gosh, he could feel almost as happy as he had felt after finally seeing you once again. After all, what was his purpose in life if he can't protect and care for you?

Unhinged! Caleb who has to spend some alone time from time to time. He knows that he isn't on his best mental place, always feeling that constant bundle of nerves every time he has to let go of you. Still, he smiles at you, always trying to reassure you even as he can feel his hands starting to tremble under his soft white gloves. But as soon as he hears the door close behind you, he has to rush to your bedroom, burying his face on your pillow and slowly inhaling the sweet scent that was emanating from it, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes as he hugged the pillow with extreme force. His breath starts to get heavier, more erratic despite how much he tries to keep himself calm, he knows that this could trigger that damn chip on his brain, so he forces himself to stabilise himself, biting on one of the other pillows as he keeps trying to stop the palpations he keeps feeling. He starts to remember you, remembering your sweet voice in his mind, your soft hands caressing his hair, his back, his chest... That's right, you will be fine. Nothing will happen, everything is alright, after all, he would be always there for you, to protect you from anything that could harm you. He repeats the words you said to him before leaving, his own hand on his chest as he felt his heartbeat decrease as the chip also helped him to remain calm.

You needed him, he repeated it to himself like a mantra, you needed him, not anyone else, just him.

[mistressofthemanor]

Celeste stayed quiet for a long moment, her father’s hand warm on her arm and the weight of his words hanging heavily between them. She wanted to pull away but she didn't. Not because she fully believed him, not because she wasn't still piecing together the parts he wasn’t saying but rather because underneath all of it, she could still see him trying. "Yes, I’m hurt that you haven’t told me sooner, but I can't say that I blame you. I understand your apprehension. I’m not asking you to choose between us and her. I’m asking you to choose honesty over silence. If you’re afraid of how Ariadnè or I might react, let us show you we can handle it—let us show you we’re on your side." Her voice was low but clear, each word measured, but she did her best to say it with as much care as she could. “I love you, Father. And I want you to be happy. I hope you know that." She stepped back—not in anger, not to run away—but to give him space. To give herself space. “I’ll be patient,” she said. “Because you asked me to.”

--------

"I wouldn't choose any woman over you... over you and Ariadnè... not if it meant I wouldn't be able to see you and talk to you regularly...You are my family... my blood."

Narcissa pressed her forehead briefly to the wall, closing her eyes. This was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? A second chance. Another crack at a life she thought had been shattered beyond repair. However, hearing Lucius now and hearing the way he spoke to Celeste, the way he tried to protect both his daughter and her in equal measure — Narcissa felt a sharp twist of shame. He was right. This was difficult. It was difficult because they were both still cowards, hiding behind excuses and half-truths to shield themselves from the very people they loved most.

"I want to give her enough time to grow comfortable..."

Narcissa opened her eyes and stared at the far end of the corridor, a hollow ache settling in her chest. It wasn't Celeste who needed time. It was her. She was the one who wasn't ready. She was the one eavesdropping on a conversation that she should have been part of instead of hiding like a child. She was the one too terrified to step into the room and face the consequences of her choices - terrified that the same daughter who had once loved her would now look at her with nothing but disappointment. How many years had she spent worrying Celeste would turn cold like she had, carrying mistrust the way someone carries an old ache — quietly, unconsciously, and yet here she was, offering grace where Narcissa herself might once have given only suspicion. Narcissa pressed a hand lightly to her chest, as if she could physically keep the emotions from spilling over. She didn’t deserve this kind of mercy from her daughter, not after all the ways that she had failed her before, not after the secrecy she was complicit in now. And yet, how much easier it was to linger in the shadows than to step into the light and risk being rejected by the one person whose forgiveness mattered more than anything to the both of them? Drawing a shaky breath, Narcissa turned and silently retreated down the hall, slipping into one of the guest rooms and quietly closing the door behind her, sensing that Celeste would be taking her leave soon.

Bones of Contention

[halfway-happyyy]

frank looking out for s/o who works at a diner, even though frank can't blame how pretty she looks in that cute waitress outfit and lace aprin but whenever a guy tries to be a creep around her, he saves her but not cause a scene cuz he doesn't want s/o to lose her job but as soon as that guy gets out of that diner, frank as his own way to tarch this guy a lesson.

I kind of love the idea of this, so allow me to run with it a bit.

warnings: mentions of blood, frank tunes a guy UP

frank had stumbled upon the diner by total fluke one morning. the rain that had begun as a drizzle when he first left his apartment had morphed into a full-on downpour, and the mere thought of a fresh cup of hot coffee was too enticing to pass up. so, soaked to the bone and in dire need of a caffeine boost, he stepped into the unassuming hideout.

he hadn't expected the place to be as soothing as it was, but for some inexplicable reason, he felt entirely at home tucked away in the cracked leather booth in the far corner. the mouth-watering scent of frying butter and freshly ground coffee beans permeated the entire establishment and helped to cement the notion that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

small black and white tiles decorated the floor, and a myriad of vinyl records from the 50s and 60s took up space up on the wood-paneled walls. it reminded him of the spot in jersey that his old man used to take him to after his baseball games; the unexpected familiarity of it all causing a lump of emotion to swell in the hollow of his throat.

"goodness, you look cold..." her voice startled him from his reverie as she reached for his cup. "this'll do wonders for you, fresh from about five minutes ago."

frank swallowed hard and nodded his head. "thank you, ma'am."

she turned to leave, but hesitated. "I can take your coat for you, if you want... sling it over a vent in the back?"

frank was surprised at how much her offer touched him. eventually, he shook his head.

"ah, i'll be alright. thank you, though."

she seemed unconvinced but offered him a small smile regardless.

"alright, well you're welcome to stay as long as you need. i'll be sure to come around again before your cup runs empty."

"thank you, ma'am."

while he tried in vain to focus on the novel he was halfway through reading, he couldn't help but be a bit enamored with her. she moved around the place with a grace that only came from doing the same job for a long time; greeting everyone with a genuine zeal. while it was out of the realm of normality for him entirely, he could not help but be charmed by her. and true to her word, she never once let his cup run low.

when she brought him the bill, she subtly set a small to-go box beside it.

"I couldn't help noticing that you didn't order anything to eat, and in the interest of wanting to keep my customers happy, and returning, I insist that you take a slice of honey crisp apple pie home with you."

at a loss for what to say, frank simply nodded. "yes ma'am. thank you."

"I do hope to see you again, soon."

he couldn't think of a single thing that might hinder him from returning, so he simply cleared his throat and said, "I'll be back."

He made a habit out of spending most mornings in his booth. He could blame it on being annoyingly routine-driven, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. There was something about her that kept him coming back. He'd spent most of his life (after maria and the kids) denying himself of any semblance of goodness, so he figured he would let himself off the hook a bit with her.

"good morning, frank."

that damn voice - like warm honey.

"mornin', ma'am."

her frown was unmistakable as she reached for his mug.

"you've been coming here for months, frank, we must be on a first-name basis now, don't you think?"

he wasn't exactly sure how to explain to her that it was simply a respect thing. he had seen so many customers refer to her with disrespectful pet names that the idea of being lumped into the same category as them made his skin crawl.

he eventually murmured her name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue and smiled softly. "you look really nice today, by the way."

her cheeks turned a rosy hue, which made his smile even wider, and did a once-over of the lace apron that covered the ankle-length dress she wore underneath. "I wear the same thing every day, frank."

He nodded. "You look nice every day."

with a breathless sigh, she shook her head and murmured - "you silver-tongued devil, you."

"hey sweet cheeks!" a patron smacked the table twice and beckoned her toward him. "need a little help over here."

she glanced at frank with wide eyes and then left to tend to the men a couple tables over.

frank had been gripping the coffee mug so tightly, his knuckles grew white.

"tell me, sweetie, is this a standard diner uniform you got on, or do they make you wear a sexier one on account of that sweet, sweet ass you got behind ya?"

the men with him erupted in a cacophony of obnoxious laughter, and it was all he could do, not to wander over there and knock their blocks off on the spot.

she kept it professional and polite the entire time, and when she went back to refill frank's cup, she noticed the expression on his face immediately.

"it's okay," she urged. "I get it all of the time."

frank's lips twisted into a scowl. "it's not even remotely okay. it's disgusting."

"yeah, well, unfortunately for us women, they don't really make men like you anymore, frank." she glanced at the watch on the underside of her wrist and sighed. "I'm done in about an hour anyway - please don't make a scene."

frank took a deep breath and tried to savor the rich taste of the coffee on his tongue. tried to focus on anything other than ringing all of those - pathetic excuses for men's - bells. "I won't, of course." silence settled between them before he quirked a brow in mild amusment and mumbled, "I look like the kinda guy who would make a scene?"

"honestly, yes." she laughed.

he wasn't sure where the need to protect her had come from. he hardly knew her. but it was there, and he was growing tired of ignoring it.

he didn't offer to walk her to her subway stop this time, instead telling her that he wanted to stay a little longer to finish his book. she seemed dubious, but she didn't question him about it, only asking him if she would see him tomorrow morning.

he nodded once before confirming that he would be there.

"bye, frank."

he lifted a hand in a wave. "take care of yourself, kid."

it slipped out before he could catch it. he wasn't sure of her exact age, but he figured she was younger than him by a good stretch. in any regard - she didn't seem to mind the nickname at all. he might have even spotted the ghost of a smile on her face as she turned to leave.

frank waited patiently for the men to finish their meals, and when they rose to leave after paying their bills, he did too. there were three of them; all of which - he noted with satisfaction - could be overpowered all too easily. it took the one who was beaking off at her a good ten minutes to realize they were being followed, and he turned to frank, chest puffed and ready to rumble.

"there a reason you're following us?"

frank had backed them into a dead-end alley.

he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and spoke in a low, measured way.

"you owe that lady back there an apology for the way you spoke to her."

the men exploded in a fit of laughter that itched just beneath the surface of his skin, and caused his fists to flex at his sides.

"I don't owe that piece of ass a goddamn thing, asshole."

frank was on him in seconds, wailing on every part of the man's body he could get his fists on. he had expected the friends to join in - frank would have taken them as well, but when he glanced back, they were gone.

the roar that erupted from him was inherently primal - unfamiliar even to his own ears, and he knew then that he was reaching a precipice, of which there could be no return once crossed.

"you had enough yet? huh? you done?"

the man could barely form words - blood gushed from a myriad of cuts in his face, and he was missing a couple of teeth. frank ripped himself away from the sack of flesh in front of him, before wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"learn some fucking manners, man. try thinking twice before you ever speak to a girl like that again." he spit on the man for good measure and stalked off.

true to his word, he was back in his booth the very next morning.

"rough night?" she simpered, as she leaned over to fill his cup.

frank flexed his impossibly sore knuckles and shrugged. "I've had worse."

she slipped into the seat before him, and reached over to run a cool fingertip over the swollen curves of his knuckles. he fought the urge to shiver into the pleasant sensation.

"are you alright, frank?"

he cleared his throat. "yeah, I'm fine."

she gave him a last, longing gaze before getting up to continue her rounds. he caught her just as she was about to head to next table.

now or never, frankie-boy.

"will you have dinner with me?"

she seemed surprised, but in the place of that surprise, a wry smile tugged at the edges of her lips.

"are you asking me on a date, Mr. Castle?"

frank nodded. "yes ma'am, I am."

"well alright then," she beamed, and frank felt the warmth from her smile like a ray of sunshine on his face. "I'd love to grab dinner with you."

[sturniololuvz]

Hiii! can u do a sibling fic where the triplets teen sister gets into a fight and the triplets have to break it up or something similar??

⸻“Don’t Touch My Sister”

The cafeteria was loud — like usual — when it happened.

Y/N sat at her table with her friends, minding her business, when she heard the first comment.

“Maybe if you weren’t so annoying, your brothers wouldn’t have to babysit you all the time.”

Y/N stiffened immediately, knowing exactly who it was without even turning around.

Jordan.

The girl had been bothering her for weeks now, throwing little jabs whenever the teachers weren’t looking.

Today, though? Y/N had no patience.

She stood up slowly, chair scraping loudly across the floor, and turned to face her. “What’s your problem?”

Jordan smirked, shoving her tray across the table, like she was inviting it.

“I’m just saying,” Jordan said mockingly, “must suck to only be known because of your brothers. You’re just, like, a side character.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists.

Normally she could walk away.

Normally she would walk away.

But not today.

“You wanna say that again?” Y/N said, stepping closer.

People were starting to notice now. Heads turning. Phones slipping out of pockets.

Jordan leaned in, clearly enjoying herself. “You’re nothing without them.”

That was it.

Y/N didn’t think — she just shoved her, hard enough that Jordan stumbled back and almost fell over a chair. Jordan’s face twisted in rage and she lunged, grabbing for Y/N’s hair.

The fight broke out fast — swinging, yelling, chaos.

But before it could really escalate, a commotion came from the doors — three figures shoving through the crowd.

Nick.

Matt.

Chris.

Her brothers.

“YO, GET OFF HER!” Nick roared, practically sprinting across the cafeteria.

Chris got there first, grabbing Jordan around the waist and pulling her back while Matt grabbed Y/N, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Y/N was still trying to swing even as Matt lifted her off the ground.

“LET ME GO!” she shouted, struggling.

“Not a chance,” Matt muttered into her ear, holding her tight.

Jordan shrieked something at Chris, but he wasn’t even looking at her — he was glaring at Y/N, his eyes wide with panic.

“Are you stupid?” Chris barked. “You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Nick wasn’t much calmer. He stormed up to Y/N, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“She started it!” Y/N yelled back, face flushed and wild with adrenaline.

Matt finally set her down, but kept a hand on her shoulder like she might lunge again.

“Yeah, and you finished it,” Nick muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

The principal was already on his way over, shouting for everyone to break it up and get back to class.

Chris turned and pointed straight at Jordan. “You touch my sister again, we’re gonna have a real problem.”

Jordan scoffed and rolled her eyes, but backed off quickly once she saw Nick still glaring at her like he was ready to throw hands himself.

Matt pulled Y/N aside while Nick and Chris distracted the teachers, trying to smooth things over.

“You okay?” Matt asked, quieter now.

Y/N wiped at her bleeding lip, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

“You scared the shit out of us,” Matt said, voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, genuinely. “She just — she wouldn’t stop. She keeps saying stuff about you guys. About me.”

Matt sighed heavily and pulled her into a quick hug. “You don’t have to fight every battle alone, dummy. You got us. Always.”

Behind him, Nick and Chris were already arguing with the teachers, trying to take the blame so Y/N wouldn’t get suspended.

Because that’s what big brothers do.

They fight for you, even when you’re ready to fight the world yourself.

⸻

Later, in the car on the way home:

Chris kept looking over from the driver’s seat like he couldn’t believe she was still in one piece.

“You’re grounded,” Nick said bluntly from the passenger side, arms crossed.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Matt added from the back.

Y/N just smiled a little, lip still busted, heart still pounding.

Because no matter how mad they were — she knew one thing for sure:

Her brothers would always have her back.

No matter what.

⸻

[roi-des-rats]

A little off topic from the original post but it got me thinking. Everything Astrid does is motivated by a desire to protect Berk and the people in it. At the very beginning of RTTE she’s going to join the Berk guard (which in itself is significant) but she joins Hiccup on his journey because she knows they’ll learn things that can help Berk. She trains the A Team because she wants to protect Berk. When Krogan attacks with the singetails, she’s willing to fire on the singetails to protect Berk, even though she understands that they’re not to blame for their riders’ actions. In the first movie, she doesn’t seem to hold the same animosity towards the dragons the other Berkians do, she just wants to protect her people. She was upset that Hiccup wasn’t taking dragon training seriously because it was affecting her path to making sure that she could protect Berk. I think that her protectiveness sort of morphed into a desire for excellence in herself, which explains why she’s so upset when Hiccup begins outperforming her; she wants to be the best warrior, and not only is she being shown up, but she’s being shown up by someone who we see (at the beginning of the film) accidentally disrupting efforts to defend the village, who she sees as a liability.

For me, the best part of Astrid’s decision to help Hiccup in the first movie is that she saw the protective side of Hiccup for the first time, not just the part of him that wanted to conform. I think she saw herself in him for a moment, saw that he wanted to protect Toothless as much as she wanted to protect Berk, and that those two goals weren’t in opposition to each other. She sees his drive and passion, first when flying Toothless, and then in the cove when Hiccup says that he won’t sacrifice Toothless’s safety to give Stoick the location of the Red Death. When Stoick takes Toothless to Dragon Island, Astrid encourages Hiccup to act, to stand up for what’s important to him, and I think that in a way, that’s her way of protecting him as well as Berk. Hiccup is a part of her “village.”

Astrid’s protectiveness also shows in her relationships with the other riders, for better or worse. She wishes Ruff and Tuff would be more serious because she’s worried it will affect the riders’ ability to perform. Maybe the subconscious reason she hates Snotlout’s forced arrogance is because it makes him reckless and tends to put others at risk. She likes Heather so much because they both have the same drive to protect and defend. In Edge of Disaster, it’s Tuff’s desire to protect Ruff that opens her eyes to the fact that she’s been too dismissive of everyone else in her team. When Snotlout is taken captive by the Wing Maidens, I think Astrid sort of realizes that even though he’s a muttonhead, Snotlout is someone she cares about and wants to keep safe.

Idk I’m kind of just rambling but I have a lot of thoughts.

I love Astrid so much as a character because she WAS the first one to change her mind. She was the best warrior yes, but she did that because that's the only one she knew how to protect Berk. But as soon as she saw another way, she immediately took it. Because yes, she believed in Hiccup and that meant SO MUCH. Enough for him to STAY and fight. Legit her being the FIRST one to believe in him LITERALLY saved everyone. Cause Hiccup was about to DIP.

It's so significant that she was the one to change her mind. I don't thin anyone else could've done it but her, cause I think she and Hiccup BOTH love Berk yes, but Astrid, given that she had no other outlet to stop this war, was about to do anything as well to protect it, including killing dragons.

It's understated so much how Hiccup and Astrid's relationship in the first movie is so significant for the future (I mean this beyond shipping btw) Cause Astrid being Hiccup's ALLY, was MORE significant for him than her being someone he's romantically involved with. She was his ally FIRST, and THAT to me was the BEST thing she could've been to him at the time.

I love Astrid in the first movie so much because it shows what she's willing to do to save Berk, and I'm not saying Hiccup DIDN'T want to save Berk, but not for Astrid changing her mind BECAUSE of her love for Berk, Hiccup REALLY would've left just like Valka... Who know what would've happened with him after that. And we see this VERY CLEARLY in the single best thing Astrid's been characterized in this franchise: Gift of the Night Fury.

in GOTNF, we see Astrid at her BEST after HTTYD1, we get to see her relaxed and actually active in trying to cheer everyone up, we get to see her TRUE personality in times of PEACE, and those are GREAT, she's so cheerful and active and PRESENT. SHE came up with Yaknog, SHE came up with the egg presents, SHE was decorating the village. We see her devotion to Berk and her loyalty and see her be HERSELF because of herself. I love her so much there (and yes even in HTTYD2 we get to see some of that cheerful personality and I also love that tbh)

[ravensmurdock]

innocence

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: age difference, implied daddy issues, freudian, impact play, no actual smut, thigh riding, oral fixation, reader calls him dad, mean!matt

matt likes to believe he's a patient man. many times he is, really, he is. except when you're running your mouth, or putting yourself in danger. in moments like those, when his patience is hanging on by a mere thread, you place yourself strategically on his lap and pout and pout— hoping to lessen your punishment.

it's his fault, really. you're too young for him, a little immature. what more can he expect from a 20 year old? what more can he expect from a curious, bright eyed intern who is always following him around like a pet? it's always 'mr. murdock this, mr. murdock that,' can he blame you? no. the fault is on him, for not being able to resist your charms. you never tried to be subtle either— he could quite literally hear your heartbeat rise whenever his voice would get too low while closing, when his smirk would get too cocky. he's sure if he could see, he'd be met with you constantly trying to shove your cleavage in his face. which, he would never complain about.

but he does feel like a dirty old man sometimes. he's had his own moral conflicts— deep into the night when you're pressed into his side, and all he can think is, 'im a fucking cradlerobber, tainting her innocence, corrupting her mind, devouring a little girl like a mad man with no self control—'

and the moment you mumble sleepily against his neck, those thoughts vanish and he's immediately pulling you closer.

he doesn't realize how much your age gap does for you. how the greys in his beard shine when he rises from between your legs, chin covered in your slick. how his strong, protective arms make you feel safe like nothing ever could. how his care taking tendencies are almost fatherly in nature, making you forget all about your own bad experiences with your own father. the rasp in his voice when he scolds you for being reckless, too curious, too presumptuous— it hits the right spots. makes you want to provoke him more. which is exactly what put you in this position.

you'd followed him down to an important meeting— one he specifically told you to stay away from, and you ended up witnessing him break the guy's hand. your heartbeat was indication enough, but it was your gasp that truly got his attention— his head snapping up in warning and you running away almost immediately.

catching you wasn't hard, and you weren't running because you were scared of him hurting you— you were scared of disappointing him. which is exactly what you did. and now you're here, pressed against his chest, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"what did i tell you, hm?" he asks, voice low, almost mocking. his hand suddenly tightens into a fist— yanking your head back by the hair. you whimper, eyes tearing up at the sting. you try to search for any mercy in his features— but his glasses stay as a barrier between your eyes and you sniffle.

"sorry," you mumble softly, gently caressing his chest, "i should've listened—"

"oh yeah, you should've." he agrees, a small smirk on his face, "but you didn't. you never do. all my little darling does is listen to herself and piss me off. do you want me to hurt you?"

"no!" you shake your head, desperately leaning forward to bury your head in his chest. he presses you closer, and you deeply inhale the comforting smell of his cologne. scratch your cheek against his beard like a cat. there's something so oddly comforting about this, even when you know he's mad at you. something about it is making your brain feel fuzzy— a kind of feeling that can only come from a grown, mature man. maybe that's what prompts you to mumble your next words, hoping to soften the blow of his wrath.

"pleeeaaase, dad." you whine, voice soft. he tenses under your body, and you immediately feel scared. you don't actually want to make him uncomfortable, you hope it doesn't. his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

"oh that one's new," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, "is that supposed to make me feel sympathetic? you think i'm your father, baby?"

shit.

your heartbeat rises again, and he hears it. loud and clear. there's been a bit of a dynamic between you two, but you've never said something so directly out loud. and neither has he. but the 'father,' that's what gets you. and he hears the hitch in your breath, and the smirk that appears on his face is downright evil.

"oh you like that, huh?" he pulls your head back again, grabs your jaw. makes your lips pucker up. "is that what you want? you want me to be your father? you want dad to punish you?"

"fuck—" you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut. he thumbs your bottom lip, and your mouth snaps open. he slips his thumb into your mouth and you suck, head feeling fuzzy. your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and it makes him moan.

"my stupid girl," he huffs with a chuckle, pulling his thumb out. you chase his hand with a whine, "what will i do with you?"

he presses your mouths together and you moan into his, crumbling in his arms. you're relieved that it worked, you won't get punished. as you pull away for air, his hand pulls back and smacks you across the face— making you gasp. you look back at him, wide eyed, and there's not one bit of remorse on his face. your cheek stings, the skin there feels hot. you're more in shock than you're hurt. he pulls his hand back again and you flinch. he chuckles, lowering his hand to your thigh.

"you're gonna make yourself cum on my thigh," he says calmly, but you can sense the threat behind his words. his thumb gently rubs against your skin. "and if you fail, dad will hit you again. you don't want that, do you?"

your lips wobble and you sniffle, nodding. your hips begin to move on their own, albeit messily. and you hope you don't disappoint him again.

it's going to be a long night.

for matt fans, girls with daddy issues and murdock circle

@deermurdock @fairymurdock @foxmurdock @https-murdock @jellyfishmurdock @kit-murdock2 @bunmurdock @lambmurdock @parker-murdock @pupmurdock @sirenmurdock @starmurdock @swanmurdock @moth-murdock @bumblebeemurdock @mewmurdock @froggy-murdock @sharkymurdock

[justmeinadaze]

Calling All Cars (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: Have I not slept yet, no. Did my managers change my schedule AGAIN from 2 -11 to 8-5, they did indeed. So Ive been living in this angsty universe. Please enjoy and please ignore any typos.

Warnings: Toxic Vampire Steddie & Human Fem Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, edging, dirty talk, spanking (light), humiliation (they refer to her as a toy and a whore), aftercare

ANGST (because obviously), more details of the boys time in the lab is mentioned (them being forced to be in sunlight, gaslit, and them rebelling by killing some guards), they do gaslit Y/N, she does smack Stevie a few times, they constantly refer to her as something they use, she does have an interaction with her parents, cliffhanger ending.

Yeah, they are bad toxic boys but they do have feelings.

Word Count: 5209

Series Here/ Donate to Me

"Calling all cars, we've got another victim 'Cause my love has become an affliction What did you expect from me? What did you expect from me?

I am not the one that you should blame Take what I left you for the pain And do your best to forget my name."

Eddie lit the end of his cigarette as he leaned back against Steve’s headboard, glancing down at your naked frame that was being obscured by the other boy’s sheets before offering you a puff that you eagerly take. 

It had been three months since you found out what happened to the guys and how your parents were involved. You purposely avoided your house as much as you could spending most of your time with either one of them. 

Your friends were very concerned as everything about you had gradually changed; your clothes, your hair, your kind demeanor. 

“Y/N, stop!”, your best friend screamed at you as you walked down the empty hallway after school. 

“What?! What do you want, Mandy!?”

“I want my best friend back! What happened after you left that party, Y/N? Garrett drove you home—”

“No, he didn’t! I don’t know how many times I can say it till you fucking understand. The police believe me.”

“No, they didn’t find any evidence! Just a car and a body of the boy I know I saw you leave with. Add in the fact that he had a crush on you and you’ve been spending way more time with Edward Munson—”

“Oh my god.”, you sigh as you roll your eyes. “So what!? I’m hanging out with Eddie Munson AND Steve Harrington but let’s focus on the boy this town hunted for like they were a posse in a western movie!”

“Y/N, three people died and he almost did to after they found him. SOMETHING happened.”

Smirking, you stalked gradually towards her till you were mere inches from her face. 

“Maybe that turns me on about him. The fact that he’s capable of hurting anyone who hurts me…like a friend who keeps butting her nose in my business when she knows NOTHING.”

“Y/N, please… Just tell me what’s going on.”

You heavily exhale as you shake your head and disappear down the hallway. 

“Why doesn’t the nicotine hurt you?”, you ask as you pass it back to him. “I mean it’s entering your body, right?”

Eddie shrugs as he inhales and flicks the ash in the nearby ashtray. 

“Maybe because I’m not exactly ingesting it. Thankfully for everyone I can smoke because if I couldn’t…oh boy.” You giggle at his joke and he tosses a smile towards Steve who smirks at the sound as he continues to read through your parent’s files that they stole. 

As the time passed, they were able to collect more tangible information now that they knew what they were looking for. Judging by the constant grunts of anger, you imagined they weren’t finding much. 

“Harrington, I don’t think I saw you read this much in school.”

“Yeah, well, this is something I find interesting so…”

“What’s this one? ‘Today subject B snored in his coma?’” The metalhead chuckled but your sad exhale had his head whipping in your direction. “What?”

“Will you ever tell me what happened? What put you in that coma and gave you these?”, you ask as the pad of your finger traced the scar on his chest.

Both men would never tell you but they loved the way you touched them. 

They had spent months being tortured and tossed around, not just by doctors and scientists but Vecna and the bats when they went into the upside down to fight him. 

Even after they were done being rough with you, you would wrap your arms around their waist and caress their skin till you fell asleep. Steve would feel your nails run through the hair on his chest and his eyes would close as he absorbed the brief feeling of what a normal relationship would be like. 

Eddie would wake up with the strong need for a cigarette before it was replaced with the desire to not disturb your sleeping form as your nose nuzzled into his shoulder behind him and you pulled him closer to your body. 

“You don’t want to hear about that, sweetheart.”, he exhaled as he caught your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“I want to hear everything.”, you mumble.

“Oh?”, the former jock asked as he turned in the chair at his desk to face you both and began to read in a high pitch voice. “’Spoke with Edward Munson today after the much anticipated sunlight test. He and Steven Harrington were allowed outside today for an hour. After 35 minutes their skin began to ‘burn’ (their words). When the hour ended both were red and their flesh began to decay as if they were third degree burns. Dr. Y/L/N said they seemed delusional and Edward begged ‘for his father to stop hurting him’. Healed after fifteen minutes and a blood iv drip—”

Eddie growled beside you as his angry eyes bore into his friend but as if challenged Steve continued. 

“’I asked him why he said that and he said he didn’t remember but documentation from Hawkin’s Police records shows a history of violence—'”

The metalhead swished towards him, tackling him out of the chair and onto the floor. 

“Come on, Munson, is that all you got!”, the pretty boy chuckles as they begin to wrestle. 

“Why do you have to read my reports?! Read your own personal shit!”

“I don’t know if you heard me but that involved us both, asshole! They locked me outside to in the sun, remember?! I was right there beside you fucking banging on that door trying to bust it down! Screaming for anyone to help us! Of course, they didn’t care. Didn’t even bother to tell us any of their fucking names.”

“’Tests were initiated today on their strength and tempers. Steven Harrington was the hardest to break.’”, you read aloud from his desk chair causing them both to pull apart. “’When his parents were mentioned, little reaction took place. Brought up Dustin Henderson and his blood pressure spiked but no physical reaction. It wasn’t until a woman by the name of Robin Buckley was mentioned. One of the doctors spoke of collecting her to bring her in and Mr. Harrington broke his restraints until he was subdued by security.’”

Steve slowly rose to his feet and sauntered your way, his eyes locked on you as you kept reading. 

“’Neither man appear to have any romantic interests contrary to ‘rumors’ of Miss Wheeler. Pressure points for them seem to be Robin Buckley and Wayne Munson. Documenting for future use should anything happen to me.’”

Bending down to find your eyeline, he places his palms on his knees as he searches your features. 

“And who is the ‘me’ in that sentence?” Blinking back tears, you swallow the pain you’d been avoiding these past few months. “Answer me.”

“My mom.”

“That’s right.”

“May I ask you something?” Neither man responds as they continue to glare your way. “You…you didn’t seek me out to get back at them, did you?”

“If memory serves, sweetheart, YOU came up to ME.”, Eddie answers as he slides on some shorts and bounces back into the bed. 

“And I warned you to stay away from us.”

When all you do is nod, Steve abruptly lifts you into his arms making you smile as he tosses you beside his friend and climbs in beside you.

“I, um, I like you a lot…both of you…”

Both men exchange a glance as you cuddle up further into the pretty boys cool but comfortable chest. The metalhead heavily exhales and his friend watches as he curls up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he holds you to him, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. 

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

“Y/N, sweetie?” Your head shoots up from your sketchbook at the sound of your teacher’s soft voice. “They need you at the front office. Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, honey.”, she sighs as she holds up the pass that was handed to her with emphasis. 

As you glance across the room towards Eddie, even he seems more alert at the announcement as his head tilts but as you begin to collect your things, you briefly hear him scribble something down on a piece of paper. 

You don’t know what possess you to do it, maybe intuition or the new found connection you have with these boys but as you absently reach for one of your books, you knock it to the floor allowing the notes within to scatter with it. 

The long-haired boy doesn’t hesitate as he quickly kneels down to help you collect your things and out of the corner of your eye, you see him slide the paper he wrote on into the front cover. 

“Thank you.”, you mumble as he firmly nods and watches you take the pass before disappearing out the door. 

Pausing in the hallway, you flip his note open and panic subtly flows through you as you read, “Don’t fight him. Go where he asks. You aren’t alone.” 

“Hey, baby.” At the sound of the man’s voice, you head snaps towards the office as you come face to face with your father. “I think we need to talk.”

***

Your hands shake in your lap in the back of the SUV but you try to hid it as you hold them together. To your surprise, your dad brings you back to your house and opens the back door for you so you can follow him inside. 

Your mom is pacing in the living room but she stops when she sees your face and runs to give you a hug. 

“Y/N, we missed you so much! We’re so glad you’re ok.”

Her tone and smile fall when you don’t reciprocate and she slowly backs away as your father gestures towards a chair for you to take a seat. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Y/N, and for this to go as smoothly as possible I want clear, concise answers. Am I being understood?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “How much do you know?”

“About Project Sunlight?”, you murmur with contempt. “I know you tortured them and mom gaslit them. I know I was a subject at one point.”

“No, baby, you were—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I read dad’s notes from when I was in the hospital!”

“Were we cautious, yes. Were you a subject, no.”, your father responds before his wife can as she starts to lean forward to object. “Would you like to be?”

His callous wording has you blinking back shock as you lean back in your chair. 

“Y/N, you have no idea what Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are capable of but I can show you.”

Sliding out of your way, he pushes play with the remote in his hand and both their sullen faces fill the screen of the tv. They appeared incredibly thin but still had some color in their faces as their eyes stared into the void while sitting in what appeared to be a large white empty room. 

“Can we get this over with please?! I’m really fucking tired…and I need a smoke.”, Eddie grumbles. 

“Shhh… do you hear that?”, Steve whispers as he gets to his feet and heads towards the locked door. 

“I’m bringing in anyone who was in the other world so we can run tests on them. Steven and Edward may have been bitten but who knows what else could have been in that place that contaminated the others.”

“I understand, sir. Names of the subjects?”

“Will Byers, Dustin Henderson—”

“No…”

“What?”, Eddie asked as he watched his friend start to panic and pull on the handles in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckl—”

“NO! DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH THEM!”

The metalhead’s eyes widen in fear as he watches the former jock try to rip the door off its hinges but fails. 

“Wayne Munson did come into contact with the gate in his trailer. That’s in the paperwork here. Should we grab him to or?”

Eddie began scrambling around the room while Steve searched for something that would get them out so they could get to their friends and family. The camera angle changes to the corner of the room as both men suddenly stop moving and their heads tilt towards a mirror against the wall. 

Their eyes become that black you’ve seen before and you watch in horror as they fly forward, effortlessly crashing through to attack the men on the other side. Camera shots constantly changed to different gun angles as they tried to rein in the beings as they flew and tore people apart with magnificent strength. 

Abruptly, you and them were blinded by a bright light as they screamed and fell to the floor as the tape ended.

“Don’t you see, Y/N? We HAD to run all those experiments on them to see what we were dealing with and we were terrified by what we saw. Thankfully your mom’s therapy techniques have kept them from hurting anyone else. We told them this here…” He gestures towards the tv. “…was a rouge outfit and thanked them for saving us. We NEED them to keep believing we are on their side.”

“You…you tortured them…why didn’t you just help them?”

“We tried, baby, we really did.”, you mother replies. “After a while we realized there was no cure for what they were.”

“But we are still learning everything about them. Apparently, they can heal wounds on other people. They can feed without changing the human they are directly feeding from—”

“You’ve been watching me with them…”

“At first, no. I had an inclination after your wound on your neck healed in the hospital. When you didn’t come back home, we sent agents to find you. For the last three months they’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Why them and not you?”, you snap. “Too afraid to face the truth?”

“What’s the truth, Y/N? What are you to them?”

“A meal.”, your dad answers your mom’s question. “That’s all you are to them.”

“No. They care about me and I care about them.”

“All they care about is themselves and blood. They will die without it, Y/N. Why do you think everyone else abandoned them? They are not the same boys from before especially Edward Munson. When he died, he came back stronger and from what we can tell his senses are more in tune than Steven’s.”

“If you’ve been watching me for so long then why are you talking to me now?”

“We…we know you’ve become romantically involved. We want you to help us find out more information that we’d never be able to get.”

“Wow.”, you laugh as you rise to your feet. “After everything you just told me and everything I’ve seen about what you two did to them…you really think I’d help you?”

“Y/N, please, you can save so many lives—”

“You could have just asked us directly.” At the sound of Eddie’s voice, you jumped as your mom stood up and placed herself beside her husband. “Mr. Y/L/N…Mrs. Y/L/N…or should I say doctors?”

“Edward. Steven. You both have changed.”

“Oh, yeah, we aren’t fucking dying anymore.”, the pretty boy practically hissed. “And thanks to this little exchange here now we know that was always the plan. Do you even know how long we would have suffered before we wasted away?”

Your father shakes his head making them both snicker. 

“Thankfully a little angel entered our world and we have absolutely enjoyed corrupting her. The fact that she’s your daughter is just an added bonus really.”

“I thought you said—”, you began before the metalhead cut you off.

“We said we didn’t pursue you but that doesn’t change the fact that part of what gets us off is that we are making the daughter of the man and woman who made our lives hell scream while we fucking use her.”, Eddie replies flatly. “Fuck…I’m getting hard right now thinking about you having to hear feedback from your subordinates about how she moaned our names and how uncomfortable that must have made you.

About as uncomfortable as being force-fed things that make you sick.”

“Or being manipulated to believe you were going to hurt the people we cared about.”, Steve added. 

Your palm to his face startled everyone in the room as you slapped him hard with every ounce of energy you could muster. 

“You don’t care about fucking anybody! Neither of you do!”

The growl that rumbled from them had your mom starting to step forward to protect you but your father held her back. 

Eddie grinned devilishly as he shook his head and held up his index finger. 

“Excuse me. We need to have a talk with our toy. It seems she forgot her place.”

With that, he wraps his arms around you, protecting your body as he crashes through the window and flies into the sky with Steve in tow.

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

The metalhead lands in a field of tall grass and you stumble out of his grasp on to the ground. Gathering your faculties, you run in what you perceive to be no particular direction, finding a seemingly empty trailer and running inside. 

There’s a strong smell of dampness you can’t identify but as you glance towards the ceiling, you see a big hole that is pitch black within. You half expect to see the night sky but when you place yourself under it all you see are vague remnants of a carpet that looks like the one currently under your feet clouded by a darkness that frightens you. 

Backing away, you fall into a chair and as you hastily stand back up a framed photo catches your eyes. 

A small boy with long hair is in an older man’s arms as he lifts him towards the camera and they both laugh. There’s another picture beside of it of a woman holding that same small child to her chest as she kisses his forehead. 

Intrigued, you wonder to the kitchen and find some loose papers on the counter. Flipping it over, a picture of Eddie glared back with his description underneath and above read “Missing Person.”

You wondered further towards the back of the trailer and your jaw dropped slightly as you took in the metalhead’s former room. The door behind you slammed shut making you jump as the man himself folded his arms. 

“I think some of the lines in our relationship have been blurred, Y/N. You belong to us. That’s it. That’s all you are. A belonging.”

“And belongings don’t hit.”, Steve growled as he forcefully pushed you onto the bed. 

“That’s all I am? That’s all I’ll ever be? So when I said I like you both—”

“I don’t know what you expected, little girl. We told you in the beginning that you were our untapped resource.”

“Why? Why are you like this?! Where is this man?!”, you plead as you hold up his flyer. “Or the man I drew who used to work at Scoops Ahoy who made his best friend laugh?!

“That man is dead, Y/N. He was bitten, torn apart, and then some doctors got ahold of him.”, Eddie hissed as he grabbed the paper and tore it up.

“I don’t think you understand how much your parents and those other doctors destroyed us.”, Steve followed. “I didn’t die like he did but after saving this fucking town I came back to torture…literally!”

“But…but that wasn’t…I’ve been nothing but nice to you…I thought—”

The pretty boy’s hand around your throat cut you off. 

“You thought wrong. What? Did you think we would fall in love and run off into the fucking sunset together? Get married and have little babies who snack on their pathetic mother?”

Your heart breaks at his words and they see it as you hunch over and cover your eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, you murmur before facing them with a look they had never seen from you. “Why…why did you even bother!? You should have just left me alone! I have lost everything because of you!!”

“No, you lost everyone because of you and the choices you made. YOU saved Eddie. YOU came to the store. YOU stayed with us after you found out about mommy and daddy. There wasn’t even a doubt in your mind.”

“I trusted you and what you showed me…”

“Yeah, well, trusting us was your mistake, baby, not ours.”, the metalhead sighs as if annoyed. 

Something in your energy changes as you rise from the bed and square your shoulders. 

“Your right. I will never make that mistake again.” As you start to walk towards the bedroom door Steve grabs your wrist to pull you back and in return you slap him again. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Where do you think your going?”, he growled. 

“Home. My parents may be despicable people but that’s nothing compared to you two and at least there they can keep me safe.”

He tugs you roughly closer to his chest as Eddie steps closer to your sides. 

“There’s nowhere you could go, little girl, where we can’t find you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh? Yet you need to be ‘safe’ from us?”

“Fuck you. Does Robin Buckley know the kind of man you’ve become? What about Wayne Munson? Do they know the monsters you are?”

Steve walks you backwards till your back hits the wall and even then he presses himself against you till your sandwiched between. 

“You want to see a monster, Y/N? Say her name again.”

Your body shutters slightly at the drop in his voice as his irises burn into your eyes. His chest rose and fell, pushing against yours as the wind from his nose moved your hair every time he breathed. 

It was incredibly subtle; the bulge in his jean lightly touching you. 

He was getting off on this; your defiance. 

“So…that’s a no…on Robin?”

In one swift action, the former jock grabbed your hair and spun you around, slamming your front half aggressively against the wall. Lifting your skirt, his palm came down hard on your behind causing you to jump and whine.

“We are going to fucking ruin you tonight, you little brat, and when we’re finished you’ll never forget your place again.”

His palm hit you a couple more times in quick succession before he yanked on your hair to guide you back to the bed and push you down on all fours. After ripping off your panties, you felt the wind behind you of Steve ducking down, moaning loudly when his tongue licked through your folds. 

“You’re so ungrateful, Y/N. After everything we do for you...”, Eddie growled, throwing his body in front of you as he stroked his cock. “You still forget your place… you’re still…disrespectful…”

You whimpered when the man behind you pulled away and it wouldn’t be the last time that night they left you wanting. Both men used you for what felt like hours, building you up till you were right at the edge before pulling away. 

The metalhead was top of you now, pumping his cock deep inside you with his head beside your own till he felt your pussy begin to quiver and he abruptly stopped moving. All three of you were sweaty and panting as Steve folded his fingers against his forehead. 

“Please…”, you beg, desperate.

“Who do belong to?”

“You and Steve.”

“That’s right. You’re our little whore.” As he spoke, Eddie began thrusting into you again as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Say it.”

“I’m…I’m your little…little whore.”

“Yeah, you are…Fuck, baby…ours…”, he moaned, not slowing down. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to crash into you as you screamed his name and he mewled as you lightly tugged his hair. His lips crashed to your own only for a moment as he struggled to keep them connected, his face scrunching in pleasure as he hastily pulled out and rapidly stroked his cock till his release hit tummy. 

“You didn’t—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes as he climbs off you and is quickly replaced by Steve who collects you in his arms, falling back first against the headboard while adjusting your body to straddle his lap. Taking a hold of his shaft, you slowly sink down onto him eliciting a sexy groan from him as you gradually move your hips. 

Your hands cling to his shoulders as his lips attach to your nipple and you can’t help but squeak when one of his fangs drags lightly along the bud. 

“That was for fucking hitting me…even though your pussy is telling me—shit—you liked that. Did you, baby?”

“Yes, I liked it.”

“See? We take care of you to.”, he whispers as he meets each one of your bounces with a thrust of his own. “We take care of our things.”

Eddie’s head tilted as your eyes opened at his friend’s words and you hugged his head to your body as he bit into your neck. Your fingers lingered in his sweat soaked hair just as you had down with the metalhead but your bottom lip trembled as you tried to control the tears. 

“Like you said, Y/N…Monsters.”

Your eyes closed again as the other boy’s palms gripped your ass, guiding you as his mouth released you, licking your wound, and resting his head against your chest as you held him. You trembled as you came and Steve grunted at the feeling. 

“Goddamn it…off, off, off!”, he urged and you slid back to watch him pump his cock roughly till his seed erupted on to his hand and thigh. “Fuck.”

As the metalhead handed the pretty boy a napkin, Steve raised his eyebrows in annoyance. 

“The water doesn’t work here, remember? No one has lived here in like a year.”

“We could go to the lake. It’s not far from here, right?”

As they spoke, you had tried to suffocate the tears that escape as you reached for a tissue by his bed and cleaned yourself. Something cold tapped your arm and you turned to see Eddie handing you your clothes. 

You stared at them as if they were a foreign object and again, he tried to push them towards you. Fury filled you as you took the items, tossed them to the ground, and stomped them with your bare feet as you screamed at the wall. When you finally stopped, they both redressed you themselves as you stood there and allowed it. 

Your sad eyes took in the room around you; absorbing all the band posters and D&D campaign memorabilia. By his bed were cassette tapes of bands you very much knew, having listened to them yourself. There was what appeared to be a fantasy book half read along with some more photos that you picked up to examine. 

Softly chuckling, you hold up a picture of him with a group of people wearing the same Hellfire shirt as he held up the rock & roll symbol with his tongue sticking out. 

“Some days…after school…I could hear you guys yelling and laughing in the theater room…You sounded so…happy.” Your voice cracked on your last word before tossing the images back where you found them. “Do you care about me at all? Even a little?”

Eddie’s chest heaved as he exhaled and stepped towards you to gently kiss your forehead. 

“No.”

You nodded but your knees betrayed you as they buckled as Steve quickly caught you and pressed you to his chest. 

 “Y/N…” You heard it through your pain, a particular tone from him you had been hearing more and more as you got more comfortable together. “Don’t trust your parents… anyone who works for that lab isn’t someone you should trust. They made us…who we are.”

Your head shakes adamantly.

“No. You are the way you are because of yourself. I know those men are still in there.”

“Maybe…or maybe this is who we were always meant to be.”

At the long-haired boy’s words, you start to sob and they both hold you tightly to them until they fall asleep. 

As the Hawkins sun begins to rise, you give them one last cursory glance before grabbing your shoes and running out the trailer door. 

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

“You’re safe here, Y/N, I promise.”, your mom assures as she slides your suitcase and backpack into your new room at the “safehouse” they sped to after you arrived at their front door. “We’ve always had ‘get away’ packs ready just in case and this house is ‘clean’ so they shouldn’t be able to smell us. I’m not even sure they can do that but—”

“Yes, you are. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Sighing, she takes a step towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder giving you pause. 

“I know you’re angry with me, baby, and you have every right to be but no matter what I’m still your mom and I’m still here for you. Your father and I love you very much.”

“Thank you, mom.”, you whimper as you take a seat on the bed and pull out the sketchbook from your backpack. Flipping through the pages, your heart cracks in half as their images you drew fly past. 

Anger and pain fills you as you begin ripping out pages and tearing them in half before tossing them across the room. 

“I don’t know about this, honey.”, your mom whispers as she closes her and her husband’s bedroom door and walks over to the desk where he was watching you break down from his laptop monitor that was connected to the many cameras around the house including your room. “She doesn’t seem like them. I mean she came to us in the day time for Christs sake…on FOOT! Those boys couldn’t even handle 30min.”

“Yeah but we won’t know that unless we keep an eye out.”, he replies absently as he continues taking notes before your mother walks over and shuts the laptop closed. “Look, we don’t have any data on what happens when they take blood from a human. We also don’t know how intimacy works, for example, can they get her pregnant? Can they—”

“Ok, ok! I don’t even want to think about that.”

“There’s also a lot of information she can give us. We just have to get her to trust us again.” You father watches as your mom’s head hangs and she takes a seat on the mattress with her arms folded across her chest. “Sweetheart…”, he sighs as he wheels his chair in front of her and grabs her palms. “I know how you feel. We never wanted her to experience any of Hawkins craziness but it is what it is…now we just have to find out what we can to protect her and the rest of the world.”

“Even if that mean doing to her what we did to them?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…”

“But if it does?”

Your father tenderly kisses the back of her hands before tugging her onto his lap. 

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

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

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @veemoon @hardladyheart @moonlightseranade @iloveyou987123 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ollieolive @localemofreak @munsonmoonshine86 @twirls827 @munsongirl48

Some other people commented but I can't tag y'all! I tried!

[secretaccountlol]

GDA SUPERHERO No More, pt 2

part 1

18 + theres smut in here go away!

Authors note : Hi, so for the ppl who liked the last fic, heeyy besties! I decided to make part two i might do more chapter might not. I've decided to not force myself to write a masterpiece everytime lol as always I read every repost n comment!

If you like father figure cecil and donald youll love this.

Warning : Angsty!! All the angsty : not directed at mark though, more about readers past. flashback! So many flash backs! Reader is a damn mess! Can you blame them?

Reader is AFAB, if i missed anything let me know! I try to be incluvise as I can!

also no beta reader sooo sorry for typos or runons lol!

SUMMARY :

With new found freedom, mark elects to show you around, but everything just reminds you of the GDA.

4,139

1 Smut scene : blowjob, sub! mark x dom! reader

Is this what a loving home felt like? Your gaze lingers on the photo of young Mark and Debbie on the flat sun-warmed tile, of the well-loved shoes, near the door, the framed flowers lined the walls. 

Your eyes trace the wall, the frames had been moved, plaster poorly concealed scratches, but the wall still bore scars.    It was crystal to you, they use to hold different moments, tender moments. Maybe her and Omni-Man, her son and Omni-Man, maybe? 

All three of them, in all likelihood.

You wanted that.

“Sooo.. What brings you to our humble abode ?” Debbie shatters the silence first. 

“I- uhm. Well, I was hurt. I remember what your house looked like from the GDA’s database.” You gnaw your lip as you watch Debbie’s face plunge into a frown before perking up, a sunken burn bubbles up in your body, you shouldn’t have mentioned it, GDA. 

“I- haven-haven’t been to your house before, Ms.g-Miss Debbie. It’s very nice, very homie. I wi…wish I could have grown up here.” You try to flash a joyful smile, but it falls stiff, an anxiety-induced squeak follows it. 

Mark's palms soothe your scorching skin as they brush against your skin under the table. 

“They uh- recently left the GDA, for me actually.” Mark's eyes shift you, throwing you a quick smile and a squeeze.

Normally, you lob a razor remark, but under the soft but stout perception of his mother, your lips confine your sounds.

Debbie endured so much from what Cecil told you. How could she stand before you? Welcome you with a soothing smile. How could she be like spun sugar, so sweet? 

Your empty plate seems very interesting to you right now.

“I don’t know how you do it, you’re so strong. Miss Debbie.” Your eyelashes shoot up as you realize a sentence slipped from your mouth, “I- I’m so sorry I didn’-“

“No no it’s fine, I- thank you. It makes me feel… Better-“

Your neck cranes up to watch her speak, though you’ve stopped taking in the words falling from her mouth.

You rake over her features, her button nose like Mark's, her dark circles, her laugh lines. 

The look of a mother, a true parent. You catch part of her rambling as she mutters the word “family,” her head motioning to the photo you scanned before. 

Your gaze snaps back to the photo of them again. 

You had that, Cecil was like a father to you, and Donald, too. You reminisce as you continue to stare. Did he throw away the photo you shared of each other on his desk?

One of you smiling, holding a fish, his mouth uncharacteristically in a slight smile. You had begged him to let you go catfish noodling after you watched YouTube videos on it when you had free time after training. 

He surprised you, after a mission completion, asking Donald to take you, but you insisted that he’d come too, literally dragging him to the car. 

You remember as your tingly skin soothed against the crisp river. Your giggles swell in the air as you look back at them. Donald and Cecil wore matching grins as you ran back to them, fish in hand. Donald swings a camera out from the back of his jacket, a clicks. 

That’s what made it so grueling to leave, made your core heavy.

You should have aired it out, let Cecil- no, your father talk to you. 

But then again, how did that go for Mark, for Debbie?

It hurts, everything hurts. It burns, it aches, burrows deeply into your essence, his words torment you as you Sonic booms out of the room. The last flash of his face was one of chagrin.

Mark was right, was family worth the pain?

“Oh, honey,” Debbie’s voice awakens you again. Mark’s arms wrap around you like a life jacket. Your fingers pat your face, which is wet with tears.

“Oh- I- I’m so sorry I didn’t realiz-, I’m sorry -“ your words spill from your mouth as embarrassment creeps into you. 

Debbie takes your chin gingerly, dabbing your tears away.

“Don’t be.” 

“I totally ruined breakfast, I’m sorry, I’ve never - I’ve never really had a sit-down breakfast before, and then we talking about family, and I-“

Debbie’s hands press into your shoulders, a gentle squeeze.  “I’m just happy to have someone who enjoys my cooking as much as you.” 

She motions to your bone-dry plate, and you flush. 

“Yes- it was very, very good. You should keep that new recipe.” 

—

“What do you want to do today?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s your first day out. We- should do something? Y’know?” Mark belly flops on his bed, it protests with a groan.

“Mm, no I don’t know.” Your eyebrows heighten. 

“Okay, well most young adults like to go shopping, eating, go see movies, look at nerdy shit?” Mark grins, you tilt your head to the side as your feet swish, oscillating. 

“Nerdy shit..?” 

“Yeah, yeah!“ Mark ripped his body from the bed, hauling your body up to meet your gaze. 

“Like figures?” 

You shake your head. 

“Like- like uh” he snaps his fingers. 

“Like you know! Cartoons?”

Your face moves slide to slide, thinking. “Uh- okay?”

“Comic books?” He stares at you in disbelief. 

“Nope.” 

“Oh my god- movies?” His hands eject in disbelief.

“Oh! Yeah, I like movies, they're nice. Never been to a movie theater though.”

“Oh, we’re fixing this. I have a whole world to show you. Like god, were you kept in a pris-“ Mark seizes mid-breath. “I’m sorry I shouldn-“ 

“Mark, it’s fine. I didn’t grow up in a prison anyway. I just- didn’t think of that stuff much, that’s all.” You exhale, “I don’t think he kept me away from it intentionally. Donald used to bring me unicorn toys, and I did watch YouTube and stuff.” You smile at the memory. 

Donald's meek voice wakes you up from a nap, your name is softly spoken, congratulating you on a job well done. Pulling a plasticy box from his vest, squeaking as he straightened the plastic. 

“It’s a toy,” he tells you, he laughs nervously, “You might be too old for it but-“ you hold your breath as you hesitate before grasping the toy.

“What is it?” You ask, Donald's mouth plays a smile, “a unicorn, mythical creature- at least that’s what we think- but “

You nod along as he speaks, giggling as he moves his hands around. 

“He used to bring me dolls and stuff.” You smile at Mark, “I was a pretty big fan of Mythical Monster World.” 

Mark's eyebrow raised, “Mythical Monster World?” 

Your body spine cracks as you whip around to fully face Mark, “Yes!! Mythical Monster World! They are these girls who are based on mythological creatures who are going to high school. I've always wanted to go there, high school? and - and they’re a lot of funny puns! Like a lot, like they have one on the back of the box, that went like. ‘What’s a dragon’s favorite snack?’” 

You giddily bounce as Mark beams, “Come on, guess! Guess!” Your hands flap at his face, his hand clasps, planting a kiss on the palm of your hand. Before thinking. 

“Uh- I don’t know .. humans?” 

”No! Hot tamales!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you're cheesing.

“That is hooorrrible!” Mark laughs into your palm, his breath tickles your senses as you watch him writhe and cringe.

“I’d listen to a thousand puns if I get to see you that happy all the time, though.” 

“I-you-“ The room feels hot as you stare up at him. 

“Leaving you speechless is a close second, though.” Mark's lids dipped as he spoke, hands grasping at your waist. 

Your brows pinch together, throwing your hands on top of his. “I- you shut up-“ his lips flushed at yours, a groan slips through your lips, you can’t tell if it’s frustration or arousal.

Your fingers trail down his chest, flush against his shirt, fumbling to find its edge before his hand catches yours.

“Tsk, we’re going slooow, remember?” Mark smirk pissed you off.

“You wanted to go slow, not me. Personally I’d like to fuck the shit out of you. “Your remark, plain and simple, ignites a fire in his pants, sweeping upwards to his face.

“Fuck- “ 

“Yeah, exactly. I wanna fuck.”

“No- god- fuck you so much right now.” His hand swipes at his face before striking his forehead repeatedly as he whispers “no horny thoughts” to himself. 

“I know how to help with that.” 

His head tilts as he looks at you through the slivers of his fingers.

“I-i- fuck!  Nopppe! Nuh-uh! Your bedroom eyes aren’t gonna get me this time.” His neck juts to the side, barring him from your face.  A wicked swell in you, you sink to your knees,  slow, soundless collapse. 

“Mark, please, I’d like to repay you for last night. Please?” 

His breath hitched as his eyes cast down, before shifting away. 

“Oh god, you’ll be the death of me shit.” His breath was barely above a whisper. 

Your thumb grazes the zipper of his pants, slow as a tongue along a seam.

“Come on, Mark. At least you could look at me before I suck your cock?”

His fingers drag his cool covers, crushing them in his palm, his eyes downcast as his heart fills with your face. “I- fuck, how do you even know how to dirty talk?” 

“Cecil and Donald, despite being literally government officials, were very bad at figuring out parental controls.” 

You kiss his clothed member, your warm tongue mouthing it through his precum-stained underwear. 

“Oh I’m sooo cooked.” 

You watch as he loses his composure, that confident façade falling as he twitches.

“Please, take it out?” Hitched breath followed as your kitten licked the soil fabric.

A vicious grin adorns your features.

“Aw but you said you wanted to take it slow, remember?”

“No-Nono- please, please don’t use my words against me right!” He whines, like actually, through gritted teeth.

You’ve never felt so egged on. 

“Beg.”

“B-be,hh beg?” 

“Yes, Mark. Beg” 

“G-fuck, please! Please-please” your slips through his waistband, he’s thick and so deliciously warm as you let his cock slink out of his boxers.

“Fuck! Thank you thank-“ 

“Don’t stop begging.” 

You don’t look at him, only his leaking tip as it bobs up and down. twitching. 

He felt like ropes were bonding his hands to bed, “please- ba-baby? Please, I’m dying over here- I need your mouth- or or your hand, anything! Just please! Don’t leave me like- like this- ah!” Mark falls rigid as your thumb glides over his slit.

“You’ve never called me baby before.” You drag your hands down, grasping his cock firmly to the base of it before repeating the motion, Mark bucks up, jerking to match your pace, whines falling again and again.

“Pleas- ahn. Faster-? “ 

“Oh? So impatient-“ Your shrill springs a whimper from Mark.

“No-please don-don’t tease me! I can’t fucking hand- god just go faster please!” Your name falls from him in a broken plea. 

Oh, that was it, that was all you needed.

“I’ll do you one better.” 

Your mouth dove to capture his length, you feel the warmth of cock as he twitched in your mouth, fuzzy your head tilts up to watch him writhe. 

“Fuckooohfuck-oh fucking fuck”  He repeats like a mantra, as you descend your throat down his cock.

“Wai- hu-am- no- pull back I c-“ Your tongue flattens, rubbing against the vein that trails down his shaft as you. Mark whimpers and whines, fuel your hunger as you bob up and down.

His palms grip the back of your head, trying to pry you off your hands grip his thigh as you gag, plunging him deeper into your throat. 

“FUCK!” He tugs at your neck as a warning, chanting. “ please- sto- wait-hhgn, I do- fuck I’m ggo-“ 

A warm liquid flows cascades into your mouth, slivers of spit still connect your lips and Mark’s cock as you pull away. 

“Holy- holy shit..” A huff of air explodes through his body as he crashes down onto the bed.  

“How-how’d you- you were so-? Fuck- you swallo-so much?”

You shrug, shoulders raised as you gaze at the floor, swiping your fingers at the puddle of cum.

“I dunno, porn. Wanted to be prepared for an encounter.”

“Prepare for an encounter?” He groans, shifting back up, to question you about your choice of words

“Dude! Gross don’t finger paint with the cum on the floor!” 

—-

“Okay, so shopping first, then eat, then we can maybe look at some nerd shit as previously discussed, which is more shopping because I - like NEED to pick up the new seance dog comic.” Mark hands scratch his chin as he rambles. 

Your eyes light up, a mall. The bright colored playpit, the end rows of stores. The clothes, you can’t decide where to look. You're finally here! not because villains are attacking, or you're saving people from rubble, but because you’re a customer, because you want to be there! It’s all so- so- 

All so- overwhelming. 

You hold tight to his arm as eyes dart to the couple chatting away, their kid running around them in a pattern. 

The teens laugh at their phones as they dance to TikTok. 

One word repeats, Overwhelming.

“I think we should go here first” Your name name doesn’t resonate with you as you keep repeating your eyes darting to the same people. 

Doesn’t make sense, you have fought wars, smashed a head with your bare hands. 

But you're bested by a busy mall. 

Soft hands caress your face, “Hey, you’re okay.”

Your eyes shine in the defused light of the mall’s skylight, you nod.

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“Look I- I’m not the best with clothes, honestly I should’ve asked Eve to come, but I kinda wanted to spend more alone time with you.”

“Selfish.”

“You know it.” 

“Well, will you ask Eve.. to teach me how to do makeup maybe?” Your eyes flicker to his, you chew on your nail as you watch his eyebrows knit together.

“Aw, of course, I’m sure she’d love to- y'know! I bet the other girls on the team would love to style you, too!” He scoffed, upset at his obliviousness. 

 “They’d wayyy be better than me! Stupid-!” 

“Mark- wait..” 

“Hm?” His head lolled toward your face, etched in worry. 

“Mark. I’m essentially homeless. Even if I could buy these clothes, where would I put them? We should just walk around, I would still like to eat at the food court!” A bitter smile played on your lips. 

“Mm, no! We’re shopping, you have a place, it’s called my home.” Mark’s hand snakes over yours, a tight grip as he tugs you towards the store.

“I- what home? Your mom’s home! That’s not your home, you can’t just- like invite me to stay there! It-“

“Ohhh, tsk, but I just did-!” He shakes his phone in front of your face, your hands grasp the slide of the screen, “Oh my god, stop shaking the damn screen! How- when did you text this? I didn’t even see you reach for your phone! Mark, I can’t inconvenience your mom and you like that- I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome.” 

He stops dragging you, his body 180 degrees towards you. You exhaled as you flinched from surprise. 

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

His hands float next to his head in air quotes, “I’m overstaying my welcome, I should leave, I’m a burden.”

You cross your arms, “I-i didn’t say that last one.”

“Oh, but I know you’ve thought in your head.” 

You groan, yup. He got you there.

“I know you like the back of my hand, you can’t hide anyttthing for meeee!” He pokes your noses, you grimace as your hands swipe it away, he’s tugging you away again into the generic clothing brand. 

“New beginnings mean a new you. Where you shouldn’t feel like a burden. People like you! Eve likes you!”

He takes your hands in his arms and pulls you towards the t-shirt rack. He drops it as you immediately relocate your arms, wrapping them around your body. 

“We’ve established that even if you don't have people- who- uh like youu-” He pauses, lips pursed as he thinks, staring at a shirt that adorns a silly phrase. He takes it off a rack.

“Put your arms in a T-pose.” 

“T-..pose?” your eye squint.

“Uhm okay?” Your hands fall from their self-soothing gesture and move up to a lopsided T. 

He holds up the shirt, he hums an approval, throwing it over his shoulder before turning back to the rack. 

“Plus-“

“You can just meet new people! Like best friend William? Dude, he’d love you. Both of you would torment me with stupid puns and snarky jabs. “ he throws an elbow at you which you quickly dodge.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?”

“You don’t know for sure he’d like me, but appreciate it.”

Mark sighs as he drags his hands across his face. 

“What happened to that bold snarkiness I love? This mopin’? It isn’t you.” 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you decide to leave the only ‘family’ you’ve known, Mark. You’re gonna be depressed for a while.” You deadpan.

“I-“ his mouth sags for a moment before pressing into a thin line. “Right- uhm.”

You watch as he gnaws on his bottom lip, rubbing the shirt cloth through his fingers as he thinks. 

“Cecil-“ he sighs, “Cecil and Donald- they’re.. reasonable people. I’m sure they don’t hate you.” Your lids lower, you can hear the clicking of his molars as he mutters, he turns towards you again, pushing another shirt on your body and a matching set of pants. 

It dawns on you again, as you watch Mark’s eyes try not to flash with anger as he tries to soothe your sorrows. 

He did not have the same working relationship. Cecil was afraid of him, he didn't know why Cecil does what he does for the greater good, not like you do. 

To you, Cecil is a parent, to him, he’s an enemy, no- 

He’s a frenemy, they’re no love there to cloud judgment, at least not anymore, not on Mark’s side.

But he still tries to comfort you, both of them do. 

Your lips curl into a tight lip smile as you listen to Mark try to speak ‘compliments’ as his enamel crunches and jaw strains. 

“If you truly wanted to speak to them again, they wouldn’t cast you aside.” 

The memory of Cecil clouds your mind as Mark quiets down, throwing pants over his shoulders, ushering you to the next rack.

“ I feel…bad.” You trace nonexistent lines on the white floor of the GDA. 

“Feel bad about what, kiddo?” he doesn’t glance at you as he taps at the screen,

Your biting your lips, and digging your shoe into the ground.

“You’re going to break the floor again if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you upset? Talk to Shrink about it yet?” 

“Nope.” 

“That’s what they’re there for..” he clicks one final time before shifting to you.

“It’s Mark, isn’t it?”

Your head bobs up and down as you frown, an exhale escapes Cecil’s lip, hands sliding into his pockets, leaning against the console.

“Kid, you did what you were told and you did good.” 

“I know but-“

“First time doubting my command?” His head tilts.

You hug yourself, that was it- but the words can’t leave your mouth. 

 “Look, you’re not going to agree with everything I tell you, it’s fine. Honestly- I’m surprised it’s the first time you’ve doubted me. Donald’s been my right-hand man for years, and he doubts me on the daily.” He taps his foot,

“I liked Mark.” 

“You did?” No judgment, just repeating your statement.

“Yeah.. he was nice, funny.” 

Cecil groans, you know he doesn’t expect this from you, you’ve never trickled your heart out like this, emotions aren’t easy for you, especially talking about it. 

“Look- Kid.” His hands grasp your shoulder, soft as you look from the floor, eyes weaken at your misty tears.

He rubs your shoulders, “Hey, Mark and Debby. They’re reasonable people. He- can’t-..he won’t be mad at you forever. He’ll understand you did what you had to do, we did what we had to do.“ He pats your shoulders as he brushes past. 

“Go to your room, Go relax“ he shuffles at the door. 

”You should really talk to the Shrink.” The soft shhh of the door leaves you in your thoughts.

You swallowed harshly, he lied. 

He’s never done that before? Why - why would he do that?

Mark was not easily swayed, Stubborn to a fault.

You know that, he knows that. So why would he say something so wrong like that? 

The idea repeats in your head as you stroll to your room, tinkering in your brain, there is no logical reason. 

Your back shifts on your bed as you lie down. 

That only left emotional reasoning.

He did it to protect your feelings, to make you feel better.

That makes you smile.

A soft mutter of your name plays in your ears. 

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while?”

“I- yes. I was just thinking about how similar you and Cecil are right now.” You grin, leaning against the coat rack of the store, Mark's face twists into a very unpleasant expression.

“Ugh- dude. Gross! Don’t compare me to your pseudo-dad.” 

“Yeah, I know, Sigmund Freud would be so proud right now.”  That earns a gag from Mark as you both rock up to the cashier.

“Wait, Mark, I don-“ 

“I didn’t expect you to pay anyways, dumbass.”

“Dumbass- Dude fu-“

You open your mouth to protest, trying to shove him away as his hands clamp down on your mouth, pulling against his back as he leans forward to the cashier.

 “So sorry about her, my partner just haaatesss when I spend money on them, what can you do, y’know!”

The cashier gives a hearty laugh as he pulls you closer, lips gracing your cheeks.  

Your cheek flushes behind his hand, and with that, he shuts you.

“I think you look fucking adorable.”

Your eyes pan down your body, baggy jeans and a T-shirt with a silly graphic of a kitten that says “hang in there”, stupid beanie crowns your head, and you tired scuffed sneakers.

“I feel like a dork, and I know you're lying!  You’re literally snickering at me!” You thrust a finger at him as you approach the house door. 

“You’re cute when you're angry.” He shrugs, keys jingle as he unlocks the door.

“Won't be so cute when I shove my foot up your as-Hi Miss Debbie!” You grin anxiously as she raises an eyebrow at you both before slipping into her soft embrace again.

She speaks your name as she stirs a pot of food.

“I set you up in the room.”  

“Oh, Miss Debbie, I told Mark not to burden you with that. I-I’ll find-“

She starts stirring the pot, Your hairs stand as you watch her eyes settle on you intensely. “You’re not a burden. Plus, when Mark is gone, you can keep me company, hm?” Smiles adorn her face once more. 

You nod, breathless. “Okay.” 

You see where Mark truly gets his drive from. “And what are you wearing?” She points her spoon, letting it trail down your body, sauce drops slowly from the spoon before she starts stirring again. 

“Uh- Mark took me shopping.” 

“He has terrible taste. “

“ I know right?” 

She rubs her hands together, wiping sauce on the kitchen towel.

“Come upstairs with me I have some old clothes you can pick from in the wardrobe “ Mark gently guides you towards his mother as he kisses your cheek, Debbie’s stretches her hand to you. 

”Don’t worry, I have all sizes since I used to volunteer when I was younger I just hoarded them all, just in case!” She throws a chuckle in the air.

“You used to volunteer?” You blink, taking her hand as she leads you.

“Yeah! It's very lovely, would that.. interest you?” 

You think for a moment, a chance to meet the people you’d been working for in the shadows.

“Yes, I think- I think I would.” You smile lightly, Debbie’s eyes crinkle in delight, “Wonderful.”

“That’s great! I can call Amber. She's great with that stuff- and she always needs help!!” 

Mark‘s sudden yelp spooks you, causing you to grip Debbie’s hand tighter. 

“Mark! Don’t yell in the house!”

“Sorry..”