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neilsbeloved · 1 day ago

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currently thinking about: clark kent flashing you right before you head off for work (18+)

it all started with that damn groan. that type of deep, throaty, guttural groan that you can feel in your core every time clark does it.

most of the time it tells you that clark's just woken up, that he had just finished having some fun on dreamland somewhere.

on rare times, it's an intentional way of getting your attention.

seven in the morning, you woke up, slipped away from bed, cooked enough breakfast for you to bring to work, and for clark to eat later when he wakes up. you two work at the same place—the daily planet—although your job position requires you to be at the planet way earlier than him.

you got ready after preparing your lunch. showering alone and getting ready in the other room—which clark had made specifically to be the office-slash-dressing-room for you considering the mountain of clothing you had even when you two were just boyfriends and girlfriends.

when you head back to your shared room to grab your bag and do some last minute checks for your hair and make-up, you hear that groan from behind you.

at first it was nothing. you greet him a good morning, even asking him how his sleep was—just the usual sweet and gooey stuff you two do as newlyweds. but then clark doesn't respond. at least not in a very appropriate way with the way he's still groaning from behind you.

you turn around confusedly, eyes glaring at your husband who seemed to be storing a wicked idea in that head of his.

"i've already cooked you breakfast, clark, make sure you eat some before you come to work, okay?" you remind him, slinging your bag on your shoulder as you spray on some perfume.

clark hums, running his hand down his firm abdomen. "you leavin' already?"

"uh-huh. tess just called and they need me as soon as possible somethin' about the legalities and stuff… whatever that is. i'll probably just skip over it, y'know how tess gets with those legal stuff," you ramble, clipping on your earrings.

you glance at your husband, his eyes still heavy with sleepiness as he had his one arm stretched behind him, the muscles on his neck and biceps flexing naturally.

there's a dryness in your throat and a wetness in your core just from that view. taking everything in you not to just throw tess' request out of the window and jump on your husband's bones first thing in the morning.

you shake those inappropriate thoughts away, blowing off a breath as you looked at yourself through the mirror.

"i'm off now, baby. go and get off your ass now," you walk over to his side of the bed, originally meaning to give him a kiss on the cheek when he moves his head just in time to catch your lips.

a huff leaves your throat, slapping him lightly on his bare chest as you push him away. "clark, i need to head to the office."

the glint in clark's eyes tells you he's not letting you go that easily but the way he pulls away says otherwise. plastering on a lazy smile on his lips as he nods, telling you i love you in his deep and drowsy voice.

you smile, saying the words back before heading to the door.

before you even turn the knob, you hear him call—groan—your name. the very sound making you stop abruptly, hand tightening on the doorknob.

he calls you again. this time, with a bit more strain in his voice.

"clark, what—" the exact moment you turn around, clark's pulled down the covers just below his knee, his cock springing up tall and proud.

you swallow on nothing. "clark."

"yes, baby?" he tilts his head, voice and eyes innocent, contradicting the way his free hand quickly descended down his body and onto the tip of his hard cock. the sheer size of his cock compared to his already massive hand had you subtly squeezing your legs. "i thought you had to go to work?"

your eyes shoot up at his face, the lazy smirk on his lips telling you he's got you exactly where he wants you—frozen by the door, legs clenched, eyes stuck on the lewd movements of his hand.

you blink. "you're an asshole, y'know that, right?"

"i don't know what you're—" he grunts, adjusting himself on the bed as his chest flexes. his features straining when you see his hand smother the pre-cum leaking on his tip down the length of his cock. "—talking 'bout, sweetheart. i'll… i'll be at the office in a few hours."

you sigh, shaking your head irritatedly as you throw your bag on the pile of clothes on the floor. hands quickly unbuttoning your coat and throwing it away too.

clark grins victoriously, moving to the center of the mattress as you come onto the bed. legs immediately going on either side of thighs.

his big, strong hands grabbing at your hips, massaging the clothed flesh before he pulls up your pencil skirt to bunch at your waist. fingers quickly making their way at your center. he chuckles lightly when he feels your wetness already seeping through the cotton fabric of your panties.

you drop your chest down on his, the fabric of your top scratching against his bare skin. he locks his lips onto yours, hungrily nipping at your bottom lip before you let him in without a fight.

your arm reaches down, grabbing a hold of his cock making him chuckles into the kiss. "i thought you had work to do?"

you roll your eyes, letting him adjust the two of you as he sits up so he can rest his back on the headboard. his knees propped up and legs spread apart, giving you enough room to work with. you pull your panties to the side, already angling yourself on the tip when you feel him hold your body.

"baby, it's gonna hurt," he says, the look of lust on his eyes disappearing for a second as his voice drips of concern. "let me eat you out first, c'mon, it'll be quick. get you all nice and—oohh fuck."

clark's offer was cut short when you sink down on his cock, loud gasps slipping from both of your mouths. you drop forward, head on the crook of his neck as you clutched his shoulders, letting your cunt barely adjust to his size.

"you're such an overachiever," clark clicks his tongue, holding onto your sides. feeling the way your sweet cunt pulses around the length of his cock like its begging for more.

the moment the stinging subsides and pleasure starts registering, your hips get to work.

you use his shoulders for leverage as you bounce on his cock, desperately trying to push yourself over the edge, slowly feeling yourself drip down his cock.

"so good, fuck—so fucking big, clark," you moan, pulling your head up to watch his pleasured face. eyebrows knitted, lips freely letting out low grunts. "did dream about me? dreamt about this pussy?"

"yes, shit, i-i dreamt about this goddamn cunt begging for me," he grunts, shifting his hips just slightly. the change in angle making you gasp, your hands falling down to his pecs.

clark leans forward, kissing up your exposed throat as your eyes rolled back. the tip of his cock finding your sweet spot in a moment, hitting it deliciously with each time you drop your ass on his cock. his teeth sinks onto your clavicle, just enough to have you clenching around him.

his hips thrust up as a response, cock twitching inside of you. loud pleads of his name spilled from your lips. using every bit of your energy to keep your pace steady but it was hard when the ache intensifies with each second.

"still got some energy in you, baby? don't wanna tire you out before you—h-head off to work." clark struggles to get his words out, the pleasure making him close his eyes harshly. pulling you impossibly closer as his arms wrap around you.

"should've thought of that before you showed me your cock, pretty boy," you responded, losing your hands in his hair as your hips stutter.

clark laughs breathlessly, littering kisses all over your face now, probably messing up your makeup—not that you cared.

"sorry baby," one hand drops to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh before landing a loud slap on it. you hiss, clenching around him even tighter. "you just looked so fuckin' good… can't—shit," clark stops to rest his forehead on yours, feeling his climax coming, "so good, baby, riding—bouncing on that goddamn cock like you need it."

"i need it," your voice heightens, the feeling in your core tightening. "i need it so bad, clark, fuck me, please—just give it so me."

clark's lips pull to a smirk, both hands now on yours ass before he starts helping you bounce yourself on his cock. every inch, every vein that ran through his cock etching itself on your gummy walls like it was field notes.

your moans turn into incoherent begging, clark's name leaving your lips like a damned prayer as clark himself struggled to keep his moans in.

he continued helping you up and down his cock, meeting your cunt with thrusts of his own. the walls shaking with how harsh he's driving himself into you. he's gripping your ass tightly, cock twitching as you clench uncontrollably.

"don't stop, don't stop—right there! o-oh! clark!"

"yeah? right there, baby?" clark watches as you drop one hand to your chest, fondling yourself shamelessly whole he focuses on fucking you even deeper—harder.

when he feels your legs twitch, threatening to close around his body, he knows for a fact you're close.

clark takes one hand away from your ass and slides it over your slit, expertly finding your clit as he begins to rub messy circles on the bundle of nerves.

you scream, finding every nerve on your body on fire. clark's name bouncing off the walls like a cry for help while clark desperately groaned yours. the lewd sound of skin on skin slamming against each other filling your ears.

one more thrust from clark on that spot and you're spilling hopelessly all over his cock, stars appearing in your eyes as you shook on top of him. shortly after, you feel him slow down, letting you work down your high as you feel his own come paint your insides. the feeling made you moan deeply, your body stiff and eyes rolled back.

clark rolls his hips, kissing all over your cheeks and forehead as he leans back on the headboard. his hands intertwining with yours as he takes you in for a warm kiss—a stark difference from the way he was moving a few seconds ago.

"that was…" clark's breathless, chest heaving up and down. "…wow."

your eyes peel open, clark's fucked-out eyes and disheveled hair making you clench around his length one more time.

"you're driving me to work." you tell him, jabbing a manicured on his chest.

clark laughs when you get off of his lap, your knees nearly giving out, almost falling to the wooden floor if not for clark quickly holding your waist with one hand.

he gives your ass one more slap before he gets off of the bed, towering over you with a lovestruck smile.

"yes, ma'am."

(yes, this is inspired by one of those tiktoks where someone flashes their partner right before they head to work)

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science-hoes · 2 days ago

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kate, i hope you’re having a great night, sunshine. a little wine is perfect for a sunday vibe! 🫶🏻

may i look into that beautiful brain of yours & hear what you have to say about jack & his darling finding out their pregnant after struggling to conceive? i think they’d struggle a bit at first with getting there, but would be over the moon ecstatic once it finally does happen for them. i know you can do this justice!

thank youuuuuu for whatever you come up with. 🥺

J my love 🥹 this is a very good question!!

—

“Lots of people struggle with fertility problems.” Robby says a bit under his breath as he slings his son’s diaper bag over his shoulders. “Abbot’s five years younger than Eliza, but trust me, he’d be a lot older if we’d had it our way.”

Jack huffs a small laugh as he cradles baby Abbot in his arms, the almost two-year-old sleeping contently after skipping his nap because he was too excited to spend the day with his uncle and aunt.

“I know.” He mumbles, looking down to the toddler in his embrace. “The fertility doc said labs looked fine. Said some couples just need the ‘perfect conditions’ for conception.”

Robby nods and carefully takes his son into his arms without waking him, brushing a dark wisp of brown hair out of his face. “We were told the same thing.” He replies.

Jack leans against the wall of the entryway to the house and crosses his arms. “So what did you do?”

Robby smiles slightly, bouncing baby Abbot in his arms when he began to stir, hoping to lull him back to sleep. “I cooked every meal for her. Not just the lazy dinners we had been doing in between shifts to stay alive. Actual good food that were in cookbooks people had given us as wedding gifts.” He begins and continues when he sees Jack staring intently, mentally storing every word he says. “I made sure every stressor in her life hit me first. Whether it was work or Eliza or chores. I would field every issue before passing it on to her.”

Jack nods, fidgeting with his hands a bit. “And it worked?” He questions, his voice a little softer than normal.

Robby chuckles and squeezes his son a little tighter in his arms. “Got the proof right here.” He teases before glancing down the hallway to make sure Eliza was still out of earshot. “We also took advantage of every free second we had during ovulation week.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Every free second?”

Robby shrugs, lips pulled tightly in a straight line. “We learned to make the most of our fifteen minute breaks at work.”

Jack’s face twists in disgust but can’t help the laugh that escapes his chest. “Are you fucking kidding me? Chief of EM fucking in the on-call room on the clock?” He questions.

Robby chuckles with him, his face growing red from embarrassment and laughter. “Worse. Supply closet.” He answers.

Their laughter is enough to beckon you and Eliza to the entry way of the house. You raise an eyebrow as you carefully handed Robby her backpack.

“Something funny?” You ask, mainly looking to Jack.

Both men give each other a quick look of panic, trying to think of an alibi, but thankfully Eliza begins barraging her father with a million questions about her parents’ date night. Jack just stays quiet, watching the way you helped buckle baby Abbot into his car seat while he and Robby wrangle Eliza and her fairy wings into her booster seat. You deserve to be a mom, and damn it, he is going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

—

Jack didn’t tell you about Robby’s advice. He simply took action. Every meal, whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack food, was prepared at home by him. When you ended up on opposite shifts, Jack made sure you left with a full lunchbox of snacks and meals, including your folic acid pills.

Every chore in the house was taken care of before you could think about it. Dishes cleaned and stored away, laundry washed and folded with military precision, floors vacuumed and mopped. When you asked Jack about it, he just blamed the “extra energy” he would have after fucking you into oblivion after a long shift.

When you were ovulating that month, Jack turned into an animal. He fucked you raw every morning, every night, every fifteen minute break at work like it was a ritual. You had to start bringing a fresh pair of panties to work because “No, ma’am, it’s all staying in.” You didn’t mind it though because your hormones made you absolutely feral for your husband. Even in the uncomfortable bed of the on-call room, you were riding him into oblivion, making his eyes roll back and forget his own name.

Jack didn’t push you to take the pregnancy tests. He didn’t want you to feel the stress of his own impatience and hopes. But you had already taken three box tests from the hospital supply closet, each with the faintest extra line beside the control. You’d practically dragged Robby’s wife to an empty room with the transvaginal ultrasound to confirm and cried when you saw a little bean on the monitor. She had hugged you tightly and mentioned something about “Robby’s advice to Jack” that you didn’t question at the time.

All you could think about was telling Jack. He’s on the couch when you get home, intently watching his Penguins game. You tote in the small gift bag you’d picked up on the way home and flick on the lights to the living room. He gives you a warm kiss, throwing his arms around you, and pulls you into his lap.

“Hey, baby doll.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

You enjoy the warmth of his embrace for just a moment more before pulling away to sit up. “I got you something on the way home.” You say, dangling the gift bag in front of him.

Jack just chuckles and carefully takes the bag from your hand. “Why’d you do that?” He asked.

You shrug, trying to conceal your emotions. “Just as a thank you for all the help around the house, and all the amazing cooking you’ve been doing.” You explain.

Jack pulls the layer of tissue paper out of the bag. “Honey, it’s no big deal. I’m just-“

Your husband goes silent when he sees the contents of the bag. His breathing becomes unsteady as he carefully pulls out the positive pregnancy tests in a clear baggy.

“You- Are you-“ He’s trying so hard to get his words out.

You just grin and point to the bag. “There’s more in there.”

Jack looks to the bottom of the bag and pulls out a chain of black and white sonogram photos. In the top left corner, your last name, his last name, “Abbot” printed with your baby’s metrics. His big shoulders rise and fall heavily with his breaths, and his lip starts to quiver.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He rasps, looking up to you for confirmation.

You take his stubbled face in your hands and nod, grinning through your own tears. “We’re having a baby, Jack.”

He wants to be a stronger man, he really does. But he collapses into your embrace and sobs. He cries and cries and holds you as close as he can. He never thought he would get to have this. He thought he might be too old, and he worried that he was holding you back from having children. But the sonogram was enough to break the dam of emotions.

It’s a good thing he’s become such a good cook in the past couple of months because you learn at your gender appointment that you’re having boys. Plural. As in two boys. More than one. And Jack is absolutely over the moon.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #michael robinavitch #dr robby #doctor robby #jack abbot #Jack abbot x reader

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rhettrosunsets · 3 days ago

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Valentine - Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: You'd never had a boyfriend, you were determined to achieve your goals and get though life steady. But when Bob Reynolds walks into your life, you never expected him to teach you how to be loved.

Or: The one where Bob say's that you're beautiful and you don't know how to process it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Reader is described as very goal oriented. Reader wears Bob's hoodie. Bob is readers first boyfriend. Mentions of reader having an awkward first kiss in high school. No use of Y/N. No physical description of reader.

Notes: Slightly based off Laufey's valentine, but no lyrics are intertwined with this fic.

You never thought you’d be anyone’s Valentine.

It wasn’t because you didn’t want to be. Well, maybe once upon a time you didn’t. But it was always because life had always felt too full already.

Your life had always been full of exams, research, career, ideas. Life was full of responsibility and timelines that you had carefully constructed in your head. Everything in your life was planned, and you were determined to achieve your goals one way or another.

You told yourself that love was distracting, that love may come and go, but your plans, the ones you’ve had for years? Those were permanent.

Of course you'd dream of love in private, always wondering if you'd ever find it. If you ever found someone who would make your heart beat faster just by the way they looked at you. But you knew that your goals had to be met first.

So you studied, you got into college, and then you studied some more. You’d decline hangouts and dates with a polite smile, you kept working, and then? Well then you graduated from college. Your plans that you had worked so hard to achieve, they were done with, and now it was making use of your degree and going from there.

The last thing you had expected was to meet him.

You hadn’t expected Bob Reynolds to waltz into your life, and you definitely hadn't expected to fall in love with the man you met on the way to the coffee shop.

But here you were, three months later sitting on his couch with your heart threatening to leap out of your chest just like you had always imagined, because Bob had just looked at you and said “You’re so beautiful.”

You blinked looking up from the book you had been reading as the two of you lounged on the couch together, your lips parting slightly. “What?” you muttered softly as you looked up.

Bob glanced up from his book. “Hm?”

“What you just said.” you responded back, your voice a bit wobbly. He tilted his head his face a bit amused, probably due to the baffled look on yours “What? You’re so beautiful?” he asks again.

Heat flared to your face like while you tucked your chin down and pretended like you weren’t short circuiting beneath the soft look kept on your face. Bob reached over and gently nudged your foot with his own. “I’ve said it before, baby.”

You nodded while your gaze remained locked on the floor. “I know. You just-” You fumbled, stuttering over your words a bit “You make it sound like it’s true.”

He leaned closer, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “That’s ‘cause it is.”

Oh God. He’s trying to kill you, you think to yourself.

You bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan, which only made Bob laugh, not in a teasing way but rather that sweet breathy kind of laugh that he does when you short circuit like this. One that tells you how in love he is with you.

“Hey, hey.” he whispered softly, reaching over and easing your hands away from your face as he held them in his own. “I know you’re not used to this, Baby. I’ll be as patient as you need me to be.”

Because you really weren’t used to this.

You’d never dated. You had kissed someone once in high school. It had been awkward and you immediately regretted it. For years, you’d thought maybe love just wasn’t for you, that you just needed to focus on your studies, and that if love happened, then it would happen.

Well, love had definitely happened.

And now you were dating Bob Reynolds, who had shown up in your life one day with soft blue eyes, steady hands and reassurance that changed your entire life.

“I’m still getting used to all of this.” you said quietly while you curled your fingers into the sleeves of his hoodie that he had given you to wear tonight. It smelt like him and made you feel like you were being held in a warm hug at all times.

Bob just nodded, and responded softly with “I know, baby.” letting you continue on, but also validating you.

“I mean, I never even had a boyfriend before you, Bob.” you said trying to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous breath before you continued. “Not because I didn’t want one. I had so much to prove, to myself, to everyone around me, and I did that and it was all planned, but then you came along and now suddenly I’m-”

You pause for a second taking a deep breath from the rambling. “I’m so happy with you, it kind of freaks me out.”

His smile softens and it's full of love and pride. “You don’t have to be scared of that. I get the same way, it’s like it feels too good to be true.”

“I know. But it’s like, I just blinked and suddenly I have someone who texts me good morning and brings me soup when I’m sick and kisses me on the forehead just because, and I don’t know how I got here.” You responded as your eyes met his.

Bob smiled as his hand moved to cup your jaw, making sure your eyes stayed on his as he spoke “You walked through everything else first, school, stress, disappointment, happiness. You achieved what you wanted and worked so hard for, and yet somehow after all of that, I got lucky enough to meet you on the other side.”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you replied “You got lucky?” with a confused tone.

“Absolutely.” he said without hesitation. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Someone who makes me feel confident in myself, who loves me unconditionally, who looks at me like I've given them the moon after just saying they're beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat slightly as he continued. “Pretty. brilliant, sweet, super stubborn but in the best way possible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was starting to fight its way through. “I used to think love would distract me. That it would be a waste of time.” you muttered softly, while he pulled you close and ran his fingers up and down your arm, slow and steady.

“And now?” Bob asked you.

You smiled softly as you looked at him. “Now I think it helps me breathe.”

You felt the gentle kiss he pressed into your hair. “That’s what love should do. It's what it does for me too baby. It's like everything else can go quiet when I'm with you.”

You used to reject the idea of love, out of fear, out of the unknown. But now? With your face pressed to Bob’s chest, you wearing his hoodie and his heartbeat beating under your ear, you knew that having a valentine would be worth it after all.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 12 hours ago

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Misaligned [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1k

summary: when you get home, you find your boyfriend has had a little confusion. Still, he's adorable.

masterlist

Coming back to your apartment was always comforting. Coming back when your boyfriend Bob was visiting was even more so.

After the dangerous and classified mission—whose details he hadn’t even been able to share with you—the U.S. government had granted him a few days off. Naturally, he’d decided to return to Lemoore to see you and his family.

When you found out, you were over the moon. Even though your work obligations didn’t let you spend the whole day with him, you tried to make the most of every minute together.

You found him sitting in your living room, completely focused on something on his laptop.

"Are you busy?"

“Mav sent over some reports we have to go through,” he answered without taking his eyes off the screen. “It’s all government paperwork, but we have to make sure everything checks out.”

You started leaving your things as you walked toward him, slowly. When you were finally close enough, Bob leaned in a bit, asking for a welcome kiss like no time had passed at all.

“How was your day?”

“Normal,” you said with a shrug. It was true—nothing worth mentioning. “Just a bit tired.”

You were going to say more, but stopped cold when you noticed something odd. As you sat down next to him, you looked at his face. Perched on his nose were a pair of glasses. That wasn’t unusual—he needed them. But these weren’t his usual square frames. These were smaller, oval-shaped, barely covering his blue eyes.

“Babe… what are you wearing?”

“This?” he asked, tugging gently at the white shirt with beige stripes. “My mom gave it to me. Don’t you like it?”

“I do,” you said honestly. That only made his frown deepen “But I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then… what?”

A small smile curved your lips as you looked at him, amused.

“Sweetheart… how do I look?”

“Pretty?” he murmured, still confused but clearly sincere. Your laugh surprised him “What’s going on?”

“Bob, you’re wearing my glasses.”

He brought a hand to his face, blinking in disbelief as he quickly took off the glasses to inspect them.

“Oh…” he muttered with a sheepish laugh. “No wonder everything looked so... off. I’m sorry, I was so distracted I didn’t even notice. I must’ve grabbed them this morning without thinking.”

“And you didn’t realize you couldn’t see properly?”

“I thought I was just more tired than usual,” he said, shrugging, and you burst out laughing.

You gently took the laptop off his lap and settled in closer beside him.

“You and your selective vision…”

You stayed there, wrapped in each other on the couch, not saying much for a while. He kept lazily running his fingers along your arm, and you absentmindedly played with the buttons of his shirt. Every now and then, an amused smile crept onto your face.

“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured suddenly, his voice still low.

“What?”

“At one point I adjusted them and thought, Huh, these feel lighter, but just kept working.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

“You're hopeless.”

“I know. I’m so out of it, I’m surprised I didn’t accidentally put on your underwear too.”

“I doubt you’d get very far before realizing. My lingerie isn’t exactly built for your frame.”

“You wear it better, no contest,” he added, making you laugh again.

You pulled back a little to look him in the eye. He lowered his gaze to you, and you brushed a loose strand of hair away from his face.

“So… why are you so distracted?”

Bob sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really landed yet. I’m here, but my head’s still over there. Sometimes it takes me a few days to feel like I’m actually back.”

You nodded. You didn’t need the details. Just seeing him there—alive, a little off-kilter—was enough.

“Do you want me to give you some space tonight?”

He shook his head immediately.

“I want to be with you. Even if we don’t do anything. Just… be.”

“So you’ll let me lie on your chest and fall asleep halfway through your paperwork?”

“Yes. And I’ll pretend to be offended when you stop listening to me halfway through a sentence,” he said, smiling softly.

You leaned in and gave him a short kiss, unhurried.

“Should I heat up the food?”

“No, I’ll do it. You’ve done enough today.”

Bob stood up slowly, and you followed him to the kitchen, saying nothing. He moved at an easy pace, opening the fridge and checking the containers you had prepped. Meanwhile, you sat down at the table, watching him in silence. He opened the microwave, put a plate inside, and started it without checking any buttons.

“Are you sure you know how that thing works?”

“Don’t mock me. I’ve had military training,” he replied without turning around.

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

Bob turned and looked at you for a moment, then walked over and leaned down to kiss you again. This time it was longer. Unhurried. Quiet. It tasted like home, and like things that didn’t need saying.

“Thanks for waiting for me. Not just today… I mean, all the time.”

“Always,” you replied honestly. You stole another kiss before adding, “But give me back my glasses, please.”

He smiled against your forehead.

“Tomorrow.”

“Bob…”

“I’m attached now.”

You just rolled your eyes as the microwave beeped softly in the background and the night kept unfolding—not with grand moments or important words, but with the quiet certainty that, finally, the two of you were here. Together.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

#bob floyd #robert floyd #baby on board #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #pilot boyfriend #bob floyd x you #top gun fluff #lewis pullman

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askoverkill · 21 hours ago

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transcription below:

Good morning, Siffrin! I was surprised you wanted a team meeting. How unlike you, how bold!

What's the meeting for, Frin? We already know what we're doing today.

I wanted you all to meet someone. This is the person who helped return Lupus to me. They've been traveling with them for months.

Oh! How nice, I was hoping to meet them after all the things Lupus said about them.

Said about me? Lupus, what'd you say?

I only said! Things!

Um, some were nice! I'm sure they're a wonderful person. What's their name?

It's S-

"Dusk." Tell them I'm dusk. We don't need to explain everything.

Oh, it's "dusk." I'd like to invite them to become a party member. They want to face off the Director with us.

...Ohhh? Uh, that's...

A dangerous choice of action. Are they certain they'd like to do so?

Yes, yes they are.

Well, more the merrier is what I'd say. We could use all the help we could get.

Unless they're a dead weight. Do you think they'd be of any use? Do they want payment? Why the sudden choice to join?

(Dead weight... that's a bit of a harsh thing to say.) (You can't exactly argue against that.)

They're... skilled. Very sneaky.

I'm sure if we work together, they'll be a wonderful addition to our party.

They can do backflips! He can hand stand and he can dance terribly!

When have I danced before? Are you just making that up???

#story #isat au #isat #overkill au #in stars and time #asks #loop 45

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cherbii · 1 day ago

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a.n -> i haven’t converted to short fics like this completely, it’s only for when I have an idea that I don’t need to write a long fic about orrrr because I need to publish something and I’m still working on a wip

warnings -> smut, language

Having such an Experienced!Boyfriend!TojiFushiguro almost feels like a mockery.

He knows what he’s doing. Always has. You figured that out quick, how steady his hands are, how confidently he touches you like he’s already mapped you out. He never fumbles or second-guesses. Meanwhile, you’re the one who short-circuits every time it gets serious.

You’ve tried on your own, obviously. It’s not like you’ve never touched yourself. But it’s always the same, some heat builds, you chase it, and then it fizzles out. You’ve tried toys, tried different positions, tried watching stuff. Nothing. You either get bored halfway or your wrist starts cramping or your brain won’t shut up.

The first couple times with Toji, you hoped he wouldn’t notice. You got good at faking sounds, clenching just right, trying to pass it off like something actually happened. But it’s pointless. Toji watches too closely. He can tell the difference between trying to get there and actually getting there.

So eventually, you tell him.

You’re lying in bed, half under him, chest still flushed from making out. You don’t plan on saying it, but it slips out. “I’ve never… y’know.”

He leans back a little, eyebrows drawn. “You’ve never what?”

“Cum,” you say quickly. “Not really. Not even alone.”

He stares for a second, like he’s waiting for a punchline. “Seriously?”

You nod, already regretting it. “I get close. It just… doesn’t happen. My hand cramps or I get distracted or it just stops feeling good.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just hums low, “Alright. We’re gonna fix that.”

You blink. “What?”

“I said I’ll take care of it.”

You think it’s just talk until the next night. Toji’s a lot of things, but he doesn’t bluff.

He doesn’t start fast. Just has you lie back, legs spread, clothes pushed up. His mouth dips between your thighs and stays there. Slow and focused. His tongue moves with a kind of ease you don’t expect like he’s just testing how you react.

And you do react. Your hips twitch. Your hand finds his hair. It feels good, better than your own attempts ever have but your body still hesitates. You can feel that familiar block rising up that almost feeling that never crosses over.

“Don’t overthink it,” he mutters against your skin. “You’re not in charge right now.”

You scoff, breath shaking. “That’s not how my brain works—”

“It’s gonna be.”

He pushes two fingers into your aching cunt while he says it, slow, but deep. Your back jumps. His tongue never stops moving, lips slick and warm over your clit while his fingers curl just right. Not rushed. Not even fast. Just right. The rhythm is tight and unchanging. Pressure building right on that spot you can never hit properly yourself.

You tense. It’s rising again, higher than it’s ever gone. Part of you wants to pull away because you know it’s going to fall off again. You’re bracing for disappointment like usual.

He notices. Of course he does. “Don’t run from it,” he says, voice low and flat. “You’re doing fine. Stay still.”

He presses down just a bit harder with his tongue, just a bit faster with his fingers. The rhythm holds. Everything locks into place and this time, it doesn’t drop.

You feel it snap like a rope pulled too tight. Your legs shake hard. Your hips lift without meaning to. Your hand clutches at the sheets while everything burns through your core and down your thighs. You’re not even breathing properly. Everything goes blank for a second, then crashes.

You cum. For real.

It’s not a guess, not a maybe, not a kind-of. It’s full body. Intense. Overwhelming. Your legs tremble even after it’s over. You feel boneless, sweaty, stunned. He finally pulls away once you’re twitching too much to handle more.

He sits back on his knees, wipes his mouth with his thumb, and just looks down at you like it was obvious. “Told you.”

You stare at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. “Holy shit.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Told you.”

After that, he doesn’t let you touch yourself anymore, not really. If you reach down out of boredom or curiosity, he brushes your hand away.

“Don’t need to waste time trying when I can do it in half,” he says.

You’d argue, but he’s not wrong.

He’s fast when he wants to be. There’s times he doesn’t even take his shirt off, just gets between your legs and finishes the job like it’s second nature. No theatrics. No drawn-out teasing. Just firm, skilled, perfect pressure that has you falling apart in minutes. Sometimes seconds.

He doesn’t ask if it was good. He doesn’t need to.

He’s blunt about it too. No sugar-coating.

When you sit on his lap and try to grind against him, whimpering from how sensitive you still are, he just grabs your hips and holds you still.

“Already came, didn’t you?” he says, mouth brushing your neck. “Let me have mine.��

Sometimes when you’re lying on his chest, totally out of it after round two or three, he’ll murmur things like, “Don’t know how you made it this long without figuring that out. Poor thing.”

He says it like he pities you, but not really. He just thinks it’s ridiculous. You went years without a real orgasm, and all it took was him.

You never really bring it up again. You don’t need to.

Every time his fingers slip down, every time his voice gets low and he tells you to open your legs, you already know what’s coming.

And this time, it always happens.

#ᶻz 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐈 #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji smut

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yellowf1nch · 3 days ago

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Warning: Minors do not interact

**There will be potential spoilers from this point forward regarding endings with certain characters. There may have been some in the last part, however I think it was still vague enough. I have certain characters I want to explore in this dynamic with specificity to their storylines, so consider this a warning if you do not wish to have anything revealed to you prematurely.**

(Part 3 of the problematic roommate storyline)

You awake in stillness. Quiet. There's a fatigue in your body, and a thrumming pain across your face that becomes more apparent as you pull further from sleep. You roll yourself upwards, head heavy and balance askew even while sitting. Memories flood back, at first it seemed all a terrible dream, but the reflection that greets you above your dresser reminds you just how real everything is. Your stomach growls, so you make your way to the top of the stairs, but hesitate descending when you hear your roommate down there now. Will they attack you again? Do you even have the fortitude to listen if they want to talk?

Thoughts swim around your head, and time apparently passes quicker than you think. You hear your roommate move towards the foyer, and into the gym. The Cross Trainer kicks on, so you take this as your chance to eat. As you round the stairs, you hear a clink from the floor grate beside you, the one Skylar sits inside. Debating once again, if your exhaustion would put you up to the task of using the dateviators, you hear the bathroom door just ahead click open, and see if fall slightly open. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to have Farya give you a once over.

You quietly reach down, arm entering the vent and feeling around until your fingers brush metal wire and plastic lenses. You retrieve the dateviators, waiting until you enter the bathroom and making sure you are locked inside before putting them on. Immediately, Skylar, Farya, and Amir come forward. They all talk at once, over each other, asking how you feel, noting how you look, about what happened. You start to take the glasses off, overwhelmed, when they all shout in unison, "NO."

"You might be concussed," Farya says, a slight grin on her face, if an unsteady one. "I need to make certain there are no broken bones, damaged nerves... Don't even get me started on hemorrhaging..." She begins to talk more to herself as you sit on Jean-Loo, cleaning you up, testing nerve responses, and even needing to administer some stitches. Amir had left before much of this, apparently a bit squeamish despite wanting to help. Skylar remained. She held your hand to squeeze, though she, too, seemed to wince and avoid looking at you for much of the time Farya worked.

"Maybe you should call in the police," she says, "this... isn't really within anyone's wheelhouse to put up with." Farya finishes up, then takes her leave. You look at Skylar, your voice scratchy and low as you tell her you're afraid. You're afraid of what might happen, mostly to the dateables, to the dateviators. If something goes wrong, the objects could get hurt. She sighs, and crouches at your feet.

"But you're already hurt. Don't worry about us. Besides, if the authorities can get your roommate out of the picture, then that's better for all of us, right?" You admit that your gut is far more hesitant, but maybe it would be for the best. The sooner you call, the more concrete the report will be. Though, you still aren't sure if anything would actually come of it. And if your roommate tries to spin things against you... Skylar takes your hand, seeing how unsure you are. "Hey, it's okay to not feel sure. You've gone through a lot, and, if you aren't comfortable getting anyone involved, then you don't have to. But, you have our support, and whatever happens, you won't be alone." You nod, softly thanking her, before you reach up and remove the dateviators. Your stomach growls again, so you finish up in the bathroom, and make sure your roommate isn't waiting to ambush you as soon as you leave. It seems they've moved onto something else, and it sounds like they're on a personal phone call.

You don't want to spend too much time here, feeling exposed in the open kitchen, and you are certain you could only stomach a simple breakfast anyway. You make a bowl of cereal, eating in the stillness, pretending that everything is like it was before Skylar was delivered here. Then again, a part of you admits that it's... Nice. To have people to talk to, to meet, even. If it weren't for Valdivian's shelling out to the military, you might have considered trying for a degree to be the leading datable anthropologist. But, the dateviators have to be destroyed, and before that, every object has to be awakened and realized. Or, that's what Skylar has told you. And it feels to be a task insurmountable, especially with your roommate around. You finish eating and quickly wash your bowl and spoon, moving back up to your bedroom. The LED lights you have on flicker, a common occurrence since you moved in, and you recall the few times in the Breaker Box how Volt would wince when they did. In fact, you remember a very curt conversation with Eddy yesterday where he mentioned it's just maintenance he's working on while he pushed you out the door.

You make your way back to the box, mindful of your roommate moving around downstairs, and quietly open the closet. You close it behind you, hoping Dorian will understand to stay closed while you're here. You put the dateviators back on, wincing as they again sit on your injuries, and you activate them, opening the club and going inside. It's empty, but Eddy sits on the floor by the bar, seeming to be adjusting some of the legs of the barstools. He looks over when you enter, swearing under his breath.

"The hell do you want, bar's closed." You walk closer, still keeping some distance, mentioning the flickering lights again. Only this time, you make it clear you expect something to be done about it. Eddy rolls his eyes, but when he looks at you again, curses biting at the back of his teeth, he seems shocked as he notices the discolored patches mapping your face.

"How much do you have to do?" You ask, taking the opportunity while he was caught off-guard. At your question, he quickly recovers.

"A lot. Now if you don't mind, I'm busy." He looks back to what he was working on.

"I want to help," you say, no hesitation in your voice. Eddy looks back up at you, gives you a once over, and breathes a chuckle. "I'm serious. I'm not afraid of hard work." He meets your eyes, and looks back down at the stool in front of him, squaring his jaw.

"I said I'm busy."

You cross your arms, lips pursed despite their reluctance to do so. "And I said I want to help."

Eddy resumes his task, albeit with a poorly restrained frustration, "I don't care what you want."

"Well you're gonna care real soon, because if you won't let me help you, I'll have to either call an electrician or figure things out myself." Eddy's motions become even more agitated, but you continue, "Besides. You clearly have a lot on your plate to be having issues with the power flickering since I moved in, so an extra set of hands would only make things go quicker." In response, you hear exasperated curses of your name under his breath.

"You wanna call an electrician, then go ahead. You're just wasting my time!"

"I don't want to call an electrician, I want to help you!"

"I don't need your help!"

"I'm not convinced." Eddy growls at you, tossing the tool he was holding down and rubbing his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs.

"You wanna help so bad? Fine. Come back tomorrow and you'll wish you never set foot in this club." You instinctively try to smile, but strain with your stitches and bruises. Eddy avoids your gaze, trying to wiggle the barstool leg he was working on, then stands and sets the stool upright. Eventually he does look at you, his expression falling flat, "Get out."

Nodding, you turn to leave, and when you exit the Breaker Box, you realize the closet door is still closed. You hear your roommate throwing things around downstairs, yelling to themselves about things never being fair, about how everything good that happens to them is taken away. You start to leave, but they seem to move up and down the stairs, back and forth between rooms. You wait for them to go back down, and swiftly move back to your bedroom, locking the door. Considering the last charge you have on the dateviators, you turn your aim to Dorian. When he appears, he's looking at you with an expression you hadn't seen before.

"How... How bad is it?" A brow raises at your question.

"If you are referring to the state of the household, I'd say it's as bad as it sounds. Wallace and I are both tough gents... let's just say it's not easy for either of us to get knocked into each other."

"Are you hurt? Do I need to-"

"You don't need to do anything, 'cept keep yourself from an early grave. We can all put up with a lot more than you think. There've been kids in this house before, family gatherings. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon."

You pause, thinking perhaps you have been too insistent. Maybe you have been too concerned. Maybe anxiety is getting the better of you.

"For what it's worth," Dorian begins, "respecting Skylar's choice, all 'a what you said last night... Makes me proud to be your friend." He smiles, "Just make sure you take care of yourself as much as you would the rest of us. Now," his face falls back to his usual stern expression, but there remains a dusting of pink at the corners of his eyes, "off to bed with you. And make sure to put Skylar up for the night."

As the dateviators lose their last charge for the day, you gently remove them, and tuck them away where your roommate couldn't reach without waking you. You adjust your pillows and blankets to keep your head from rolling too much overnight, and feel the calm embrace of sleep welcome you.

#date everything skylar #date everything x reader #date everything game #date everything dorian #date everything eddy

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prettydaisygirl · 3 days ago

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hi babes. I love your James fire chiefX pregnant reader serie

Can you do one about the reader having a hard natural birth but in then all ends well? a mix of angst and fluff, please 🙏

Love your work ♡

hiii lovely! Thank you so much for your request, I can't wait to write him as a dad now too :))) I hope you enjoy this one, though I will say I made the birth vague because I have no knowledge or experience with labor lol okay hope you enjoy, lovely! <3

firechief!James Potter x fem!reader who goes into labor at the worst time ✿ 1.2k words

cw: fem!pregnant!reader, birth scene (vague), emt!Reggie helps reader give birth, unexpected birth/home birth, i'm sorry that the extent of my birth knowledge comes from grey's anantomy

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

It had been a relatively easy, calm day for James and his crew at the fire station. So much so that he’s already uneasy. He doesn’t like sitting still, it makes him anxious. He’s already borderline frantic knowing that you’re sitting at home, ready to go into labor at any moment. This is his last shift before he has some time off to spend with you and the baby.

So, despite the fact that he continues to say he’s not an anxious person, he’s worried about you.

It gets worse when the newbie says “Wow, it’s been a good day!”

Immediately, a sharp tension takes over the crew. James’ shoulders tighten, and Sirius says “mate.” while rubbing his temples with his fingers.

James knows things are inevitably going to go wrong.

They do. Almost immediately the station gets swamped with calls, and he has to split everyone up for fires at multiple locations.

James heads to one scene, barking orders at the other men, though not in a cruel way, just loud and instructive. He needs them to move faster, always faster, as flames threaten to consume the entire building. Water sprays viscously from hoses, people run around frantically, and firefighters yell at each other over the roar of the flames.

In the midst of all the chaos, James doesn’t hear his phone ring. Not the first time, or the second, or the third. In fact, by the time he manages to glance at the screen, there are 13 missed calls from you. His heart sinks and he immediately presses answer when you call again, raising the phone to his ear.

“Is everything okay, Angel?” He plugs his other ear to try and each better, taking a few steps away from the scene, though it doesn’t block much of the sound of his pounding heart or the commotion of the fire.

“Well, um…” Your voice is shaky, a bit strained. You take a deep breath and speak again. “I think I’m in labor.”

He’s been expecting this call. Of course it happens at the worst possible time, and his heart leaps into his throat. “Did your water break?”

You don’t answer the question right away, and when you do, it’s not the answer he is expecting. Or wanting.

“Well, um…” You start slowly again, a nervous habit when you have to really think about each word coming out of your mouth. “Actually, it broke a few hours ago.”

This time it feels like his heart stops entirely, the scene around him drowned out by worry and the rush of blood to his ears.

“*What?*” He takes a few more steps away, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Well, I- I know most women have ah- hours after their water breaks, especially with their first birth, and so I thought I’d let you finish out your shift. But now my contractions are ah- only a minute or two apart.”

Fuck.

“Okay, Angel just… lay down, breathe through it, and I’m going to be right there.” James almost drops his phone as he stomps his way back to the scene.

“Please don’t hang up!” You cry out on the other end, forcing yourself to breathe. He can hear it, feel your panic through each inhale and exhale.

“I’m not, I’m not, baby. Just hang on.” James doesn’t know what to do, he can’t think, he can’t breathe even though he’s telling you to. His eyes land on Sirius, and he stomps over quickly.

“I have to go.” He kicks into Sirius’ shoulder a bit, just enough to get his attention, leaning in so his best mate can hear him.

“Now?” Sirius glances back at the still roaring fire.

“She’s in labor!” James tells Sirius, whose eyes widen dramatically and he starts nodding and shoving James in the direction of some ambulances.

“Go!” Sirius encourages with a nod, “Take Reggie’s ambulance, I’ll take over!”

“Thank you!” James manages to say before breaking into a run toward the ambulance, his body resisting due to the weight of all of his equipment. Reggie, Sirius’ younger brother, hops into the driver's seat without question.

“Where are we going?” He asks as James moves to climb in the back. He tells Reggie his address and the two are off, lights and sirens.

The whole time, the sound of your breathing and curses of pain reach his ears, he tries to calm you by whispering soothing words of his own into the line. He doesn’t know if it’s helping.

“James.” You groan, hissing an inhale through your teeth. His heart pounds, you only call him by his full name when you’re really stressed. “I think the baby is coming right now.”

“Just- just hold on.” He doesn’t know what to do. Reggie drives faster, turning onto your street. “We’re almost there, angel, just a minute.”

“I don’t know if I have a minute!” You screech into the phone, and James doesn’t know whether you’re truly about to have the baby or if you’re just scared.

He doesn’t even wait for Reggie to fully stop the ambulance before he hops out, running inside. He finds you in the bedroom, sweating and grimacing, and runs to your side.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” James coos softly, trying to soothe and take in the entire situation. “I have to see where you’re at baby, can I look?”

You nod, grimacing as James lifts up your maternity dress to look between your legs. Obviously he’s been there plenty of times before but… it feels a bit different this time.

James isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to be looking for initially, but it becomes obvious when he looks. Because he can see the head already.

“Reggie!” He calls out to the EMT, who darts into the bedroom behind him. He takes in the scene and quickly realizes what’s going on, that there’s no time to get to the hospital.

“Shit, okay.” Reggie takes James’ place, and James moves up by your head to hold your hand.

Everything happens quickly from there. Reggie is able to talk you through what to do. James feels like he might pass out, but he focuses on you. Looking at you, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need.

This is definitely *not* the birth plan the two of you had made.

But when all is said and done, when the two of you hear the baby cry and James helps you into the Ambulance to head to the hospital, he finds himself oddly calm. He holds his newborn son as Reggie wheels you into the ER. The doctors check over the both of you, and though they’d like to admit you for a few days just for observation, James still only feels euphoric.

Because everything is fine, you are healthy and safe, and you’ve given him a son.

James can’t find it in himself to stay panicked. Like he says, he’s never been an anxious person.

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then the baby’s.

“I love you.” He whispers to the baby, and then his eyes meet yours. “I love you.”

You blink exhaustedly, but smile, and cuddle your son tighter to your chest.

“I love you too.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #james potter #firechief!james potter #firefighter!james potter #james potter au #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #marauders fic #hp marauders #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #regulus black

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zepskies · 1 day ago

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Haha yeah I realized belatedly that Blake is actually the perfect "Ken" to go with that lyric!! 😂

I'm sure they think they are trying to help by setting up dates, but they really should respect the fact that it isn't what she wants. And if you are going to try and set someone up be upfront about it, don't be sneaky with it.

BIG YEP. They're trying to "help" her move on (and not be the sad friend), but they're not actually supporting her here 💔

Really?!! After what Rachel did they are still talking to her!! She needs better friends.

Right? I might explore it in future one-shots, but in my head Rachel has been able to manipulate and lie her way back into the group, like claiming to have been drunk as well when it "happened with Mark," etc.

Beautiful heartbreaking imagery 💔

Aww thank you! 🥹 Poor girl went through it fr!

Oh no. That is definitely not the way you want to run into your ex for the first time after the breakup.

Right? Poor girl feeling like a gremlin while Mark's all handsome and cheerful. 😭 She just doesn't realize that it's a coping mechanism for everything he's hiding inside.

Poor girl. As if it's not bad enough running into Mark like that, she sees him with Oliveras and assumes something is going on there (with someone else she knows). No wonder she needed to get out of there quickly. Uh-oh

Ughh I know, it was hard to write that scene from the reader's POV since I ship Mark x Amber in canon loll 🥲

Seriously what is wrong with some guys?! Take the hint!!

Oof, unfortunately this guy had taking advantage of her on his mind. 😓 But luckily Mark stepped in!

I hadn't heard this song before, but I love how this bit fits, linking that line from the song with the story.

Oh yeah that part of the song is so gutting, I had to try and have that represented here 💙

Ok, love this. I read it hearing him say it in my head.

ahaha I'm so glad to hear that because I did too when I was writing it! Love getting that confirmation 🤣

Oh, I'm guessing this has the potential to cause some issues/ conflict between her and Meachum with his work on the task force.

This was 100% my thought when we found out about Meachum and his fianc��e in the show. My first thought was that he did that to end it so she wasn't 'stuck' with a dying man.

BIG YEP. That was my thought too! I still hope he didn't actually sleep with Rachel in canon either. 😭

OMG, she has no shame!!! Why does she think this is ok? Imagine if the roles had been reversed and Mark had done what she has, he would find himself in serious trouble.

Rachel is the absolute wooooorst! 100% if the roles had been reversed, a man could be arrested in this situation. But bc she's a woman, it's just seen as "asshole behavior." Sometimes the double-standard is really rough

OMG... she needs help. That is not normal behaviour Rachel!! I hope she gets a few home truths told to her.

Oooh don't worry, she will in the next story to follow this 😏

Love the shift here fits perfectly with the fact they still clearly love each other.

Aww thank you, as gutting as it is, this really is the moment where you see both of them never stopped loving each other.

Her being his 'peaceful spot' is beautiful. That man definitely needs it after what has happened so far on that task force.

From what I've seen so far, Mark seems to be really alone and having to cope with all this stress at work, which would be enough to deal with on its own, let alone everything else he's going to. 😭

Thanks so much for reading, friend! So glad you enjoyed it 🥰💕

CATASTROPHIC BLUES

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: Nine months isn’t as long as it sounds. When you run into your ex-fiancé at a bar, he finds out what you've become. You find out the truth.

AN: Okay, so this was only supposed to be a 1K drabble sequel to DOWNGRADE for my lovely friend, @waynes-multiverse, but of course it snowballed on me lol. (And there’s a little more to come!) This is set during early season 1, let’s say between 1x02 and 1x03.

Song Inspo: “Hits Different” by Taylor Swift (YT)

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, drunkenness, skeevy men, Mark doing his best with an angry, hungover reader (bit of grumpy x sunshine), talk of cheating, what really happened, and other truths revealed…

Nine months. It should’ve meant something.

You should be able to go out with your friends to the club. You should be able to feel confident in one of your favorite dresses and the tallest pair of heels you could almost walk in.

You should be able to let loose on the dance floor, letting the closest attractive guy grind on your ass.

He later offered to get you a drink, his hot breath in your ear. An uncomfortable chill ran down your spine. But you know what? Fuck it.

You went back with him to the bar, taking the chance to rest your achy feet. He tried to make small talk with you, despite you being stiff and awkward now that you couldn’t distract yourself with the vibes of the music running through your body. Now the thump thump thump of the bass was too much, too distracting for a normal conversation.

Blake was an oxymoron—he dressed like a wealthy hipster and talked like a frat bro. He had the skinny jeans and a silky patterned shirt, a thin gold chain around his neck, an obnoxious gold pinky ring, and a trendy cropped haircut. You regretted letting him buy you a drink, but then again, you never wasted good vodka.

You also started to get suspicious when one of your friends “casually” came up on his other side.

“Ask her about her job,” Sarah whispered. You just barely caught it.

“Oh, yeah. So, uh, what do you do?” Blake asked you. You were pretty sure he was more interested in your cleavage than your job.

“I’m an assistant to the Head District Attorney of California,” you said blandly.

The guy blinked. “…Oh. Cool.”

“And what do you do, Blake?”

“Well, my dad owns an advertisement company, so I do some stuff for him every now and then. But mostly I’m a competitive gamer. Like, uh, League of Legends, Counter Strike, Mortal Kombat. What about you? You a gamer?”

Blinking slow, then sighing, you leaned over and locked eyes with Sarah, one of your best friends and a well-known esthetician in L.A.

“Where’d you find the trust fund baby?” you asked. “He one of your clients? Let me guess. He likes his asshole bleached the same shade as his hair.”

Sarah bit her lip in embarrassment. Blake coughed and spluttered into his scotch. You didn’t stick around for the predictable denial and slid off the bar stool. You gave him $15 for your drink, downed the rest of it in one long gulp, and savored the rush of it tingling through your head on your way out of the club.

“Wait!” Sarah called after you. Your other two friends just rolled their eyes and stayed behind to keep drinking and dancing. They were used to your antics by now, just like you were used to theirs. They'd been trying to set you up on dates for a couple of months now. This one was the sneakiest by far.

Sarah, for her part, never let you walk out alone.

“Next time you try to set me up with someone, can you please just tell me,” you said tiredly, “instead of pretending you want to hang out with me?”

Sarah deflated. “Look, we’re just trying to help.”

“I know,” you said, holding yourself against the chill in the air. “I know, okay? I know you guys want me to move on, because I’m a fucking bummer. I know I’m…I’m not handling all this as well as I should be. And I know they still talk to Rachel.”

Tears stung in your eyes, but you sucked in a subtle breath. Sarah’s blue eyes were sad and glassy with guilt, even if it was just by association.

“Go back inside,” you said eventually. “I’ll just take an Uber home.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you ended up at a bar down the street. You barely ever went clubbing anymore, but you hadn’t stepped foot into a real bar in nine months.

“Come on, sweetheart. You really want to do this here?”

“You’re one to fucking talk! But you know what? Far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to say. I just…I don’t know how you could do this to me.”

“Please,” he said. The green of his eyes were desperate. It was the first time you ever heard him beg. “Just let me explain.”

You wouldn’t let him touch you, let alone try to hold you. The thought alone made you sick.

“I saw you, Mark. I saw the goddamn pictures. And my sister told me all about how your last night of ‘freedom’ went. But you know what? You’re fucking free.”

You put the ring in the palm of his hand. He stared down at it, jaw clenched. Meanwhile, hot tears streamed down your face.

You walked away first—out of the seaside bar in beautiful Venice, California, with every piece of your heart bleeding out into the street.

Another vodka cranberry at the end of the bar turned into shots you couldn’t name or count. You rebuffed men who tried to talk to you. You ignored the voice in your head that sounded a lot like your dad.

Sweet girl, what the hell’re you doin’?

You stopped trying to answer that question a long time ago. Just like your friends had stopped trying to get you out of the house after work. No more wine tastings or Sunday brunches. No more weekends at the beach. The coarse grains of sun-bleached sand would only remind you of Santa Cruz—a sweltering summer, a perfect day, now fractured and wrong in your mind’s eye.

A fucking lie.

Another empty glass hitting the bar counter drowned out the salty crash of ocean waves, but you finally had to stop when your stomach churned with alcoholic slosh. Your brain reeled when you tried to blink. Your eyes felt dry, irritated, and glassy at the same time.

You got up from your seat and used the wall like an anchor on your way to the bathroom. You checked yourself in the mirror there. Your black dress, your hair, and your makeup were still intact, so you supposed you still looked good, if absent in the eyes. Again, you blinked too hard. Fuck.

On your way back out, new noise was filling the bar. A whole group of four or five people came in and grabbed seats at the bar, laughing, ordering drinks, giving each other shit. They sounded like cops. You knew, because you’d grown up around them your entire life.

“All right, Oliveras. What’re you drinking?”

You stopped short at the voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey. In fact, you needed the back of an empty chair to hold you steady.

“What, you're buying?” she shot back.

Amber. You recognized her profile and the litheness of her frame. You two were old friends, since you roomed together back in college. You hadn’t heard from her in months though. She had called to give her condolences when your almost-marriage fell apart.

And now, your ex-fiancé had an arm draped casually behind her chair. His smile was effortless, charming, the crows’ feet around his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Well, within reason,” he replied, inclining his head. “I think I’m in the mood for some good fuckin’ whiskey—”

You stumbled in your stupid heels. You nearly took a whole table with you, but two chairs broke your fall. Almost all the cops in the group looked your way, their heads swiveling with a trained response to sudden sounds. Your name fell from Amber’s lips, a small, shocked breath.

Mark’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening when you looked up at him on reflex. You were forced to take him in, his green eyes, the new haircut, the well-trimmed beard, the jeans and dark blue jacket. He had no fucking business looking that good.

But you were like two shocked deers not expecting to meet in a forest—neither one willing to move or speak, or even blink…

Until you stumbled again. Your weight on the unstable chair began to give way.

“Shit.”

He and Amber both jolted to help you. Mark’s hand reached for you first, but you firmly ignored it and somehow straightened onto your shaky feet. You smoothed down the dress and fixed the little straps the best you could, even though one was hanging down your shoulder.

Your arm got tangled in the thin chain of your purse, but you slung that over your other shoulder with all the grace of a toddler. Then you affected a “polite” smile that just came off looking like a grimace.

“Uh, hey. Of all the gin joints in the world and stuff, right?” You made sure to enunciate, hoping your hand wave was casual and not insane. “I’ve gotta go.”

You pointed toward the door before you made it your mission to actually get there. Your heart pounded loud in your ears. The rush of cool and quieter air was a balm to your frayed mind, but it wasn’t enough.

The way he looked at her…

The turning of your stomach became a violent roil. You closed your eyes against the movie reel torturing you in your mind. You imagined how their night would go, drinking, laughing, touching, stumbling back into his house at 2:00 a.m. Maybe he’d end up actually loving her, someone more like him. More than he claimed to have loved you.

The liquid contents of your stomach rebelled, and you threw up right on the edge of the street. You clung to a utility pole as you coughed and cried involuntary tears. You heaved and gasped for breath when you couldn’t stop.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?”

Alarm trilled in the back of your mind. You had enough awareness to look behind you. Finally, you noticed the guy. He’d approached you in the bar earlier, but you’d turned down his advances. You couldn’t remember what you said to him. He clearly remembered you, though.

You waved him off, not even able to speak as you tried to stay upright against the utility pole.

He didn’t take the hint. He drew closer, wrapping the pretense of a helping hand around your arm. He fingered the edge of your leather jacket.

“You need a ride? I’ll get you an Uber or something,” he said, with the facsimile of concern. “Where do you live?”

“Hey,” a voice cut in, deep and with authority.

You tilted your head, and Mark’s stern face came into view along with the rest of him. Him and those damn bowed legs.

“Take a walk, pal. I’ve got her,” Mark said. He flashed his LAPD badge for good measure.

That made it even easier to knock away the foreign hands off your body and angle himself in between. His arm came around your shoulders, supportive and safe.

Half of you was grateful, the other half resentful, but all you could do was glare at him. He shot you a quirking smile.

The other man backed off, trying to hide his annoyance. He continued down the street with his hands in his pockets. Mark itched to do more than just scare him off. A familiar protective anger had burned in his blood, raising his hackles, but he had to focus on you.

He led you back to the front of the bar. He went slow enough for you in those red stilettos (ridiculous, he thought, no matter how sexy they were).

“Late night, huh?” he said.

“What d'you think you’re doing?” you said. Your tone would be more snippy, if you had any energy left. Your inner world was reeling, unfocused and barely conscious. You had no choice but to lean on him as you gripped his jacket, the dark blue denim rough between your fingers.

“Well, I’m thinking I could call one of your friends, have ‘em take you home. You came out alone?” he asked. He was trying to be civil, retaining his sense of humor, but there was no masking the concern in his eyes. Not completely.

“No,” you admitted, “but ‘m alone now. Obviously.” You snorted.

Mark’s lips twitched upward. He heaved a small sigh. “All right. Well, who do you want me to call? Sarah? Yesenia? Lauren?”

After a moment, you shook your head, even though that just made it swim. Fuck.

“I can’t…don’t want them to see me like this,” you said. The confession provoked a sniffle, a tremble of your lips. This time, you couldn’t stop the sting of tears from flooding over. You covered your face, as if that could stop your embarrassment, your overwhelming emotions from clogging in your throat in a painful lump.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Mark said. His tone pitched deep and gentle. It was an easy reflex for him to give into as he soothed a hand over your hair to try and calm you down.

You didn’t know it, but there was a gaping ache in his chest that had never really faded away. Seeing you again, let alone like this, made it sharp and splintering.

He led you to his car, and he took you home.

For a moment, you saw it so clearly.

Tracing his brows, the line of his nose, and the cut of his chin while he slept. What his hair felt like between your fingers, loose and soft, or gripped tight with need.

The sound of his voice reaching deep into your bones. The way his arms allowed you to reclaim safety whenever he came back to you…

Worrying for your dad on his twenty-five-year beat in Homicide had transitioned into worrying for Mark. He was always quick to reassure you though, to downplay with his ridiculous sense of humor and good sex. The best, actually.

But it was the in between moments you missed the most.

The distant sound of a lock turning in the door had you waking, slowly, a silent struggle in your bed. Your eyes cracked open.

Were you okay now? Was that him? Was he home? Had the past year just been a cruel invention of your mind to torture you?

…No. Your throat momentarily closed up as you realized. This really was just your shitty reality.

You groaned as you picked your head off the pillow, pushing your body up until you were sitting on the edge of your bed. Your bare legs hung off the side. You still wore your wrinkled black dress from last night, but your heels were strewn forgotten on the floor. You didn’t remember taking them off. You didn’t remember getting back to your apartment, let alone to your bed.

However, it all started coming back to you when the door shut again. Fresh coffee wafted in from the living room, along with something sweeter.

Your bedroom door creaked open, and there he was. Mark fucking Meachum.

He held a tray with two hot coffees and a greasy brown bag from your favorite bakery. Your gaze crept up to meet his, though yours was decidedly grumpy.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile. “It’s already almost noon, but I figured we can’t start the day without coffee.”

“Did you stay here all night?” you croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, just, uh, took the couch out there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the living room. “Could use a couple of extra throw pillows though. Think I got another notch in my spine…”

At your persisting glare, his expression sobered.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all,” he said.

“Well, mission accomplished,” you snarked. “You can go now.”

Mark watched you try and fail to stand. You sunk back down to a seat on the edge of the bed, closing your eyes for a second while you attempted to stop your head from swimming.

He sighed and set down the coffee and pastries on your desk nearby.

“Have you been making this a habit?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but last night was the first bar I’ve been to in exactly nine months and...fifteen days,” you replied. You swept your fingers over your cheeks, grimacing when you found remains of your mascara. You probably looked like a gremlin. This wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to look when you next saw your ex.

Except you’d never planned to see this man again.

“All right,” Mark said. He grabbed your purse off your desk, where he’d set it last night. He popped it open, your private goddamn property.

“Excuse me,” you protested angrily.

He retrieved a whole pack of cigarettes. “How about these?”

He tossed you the pack, and you barely caught it. Your irritation grew and grew, along with the sting of shame. The worst part was, he knew he didn’t have to say anything.

The unfiltered nicotine in your hand was the reason your father died. He’d been the Captain of Mark’s precinct for ten years—the exact number of years since your dad had quit smoking. It hadn’t mattered much in the end.

Still, you resented that raised brow of judgment on Mark’s face.

You leaned over and grabbed a lighter from your nightstand. You fished out a cigarette from the pack, and you took your time lighting it up. You were being an asshole, you realized, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You made a show of holding the cancer stick between two fingers. You looked up at Mark, right in his eyes, and tried to channel Audrey Hepburn when you brought it to your lips for a long drag.

And you immediately coughed it up. Fuck.

Smoke polluted the air above your head while Mark nodded in vindication.

“Yeah. How’d that feel, Smokey?” he asked (all too high-and-mighty, in your opinion). He crossed the distance and took the cigarette from your hand while you kept coughing. He went into the bathroom to get rid of it.

Meanwhile, you held a hand to your chest and groaned. Damn him, he was right. Your stomach roiled at just the taste of that shit in your mouth, let alone first thing in the morning.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he suggested, sweeping a hand toward your adjoining bathroom when he came back out. “A little coffee and sustenance will be waiting when you’re done.”

“Seriously, you can go. You don’t need to wait up for me,” you rasped, but the man still helped you to your feet with a supportive hand on your arm and your lower back.

“Yeah, and what if you lose your balance and crack your head on the bathroom tile? Nope, not on my watch.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“He ain’t gonna help if you take his name in vain like that,” Mark couldn’t help but tease, fully expecting your glare. That was something your mom used to say.

You groaned, annoyed and still nauseous.

“Would you just shut up?”

“Nope, pretty sure I’m physically incapable.”

You snorted. “Clearly.”

He made sure you were steady on your feet before he left you in the bathroom. You avoided his gaze when he closed the door. His heart gave a painful pulse.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought.

Brushing your teeth and taking a hot shower had its innumerable benefits—making you feel alive and close to normal again, for example. But the one thing it didn’t do was get Mark out of your apartment.

You sat together on your couch while the TV played at a low volume. You saw the remnants of Mark’s night in your favorite throw blanket tossed over one of the armrests. The pillow he'd used for his head was caved in and smelling like his cologne, a rich, woody scent of sandalwood, spice, and musk.

You tried to ignore it while you finished eating a blueberry muffin. He polished off his third donut and washed it down with some more coffee.

“So,” you said. “Amber Oliveras.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Last night. You two were out together, seemed to be having a good time. Sorry I crashed your date,” you said, trying not to seem as bitter you sounded in your head.

Mark’s brows furrowed. “We’re, uh, not together. Not like that. We’re just working a case.”

“A case?” you said dubiously. “She’s DEA. You’re Homicide. What kind of case would you be working on together?”

He hesitated, brushing some pastry crumbs from his mouth. “Sorry, I can’t get into the specifics. You know the drill.”

Yes, you knew his cases were supposed to be confidential, but that hadn’t stopped him from telling you details before, especially because you were D.A. Valwell’s Executive Assistant. You had a higher clearance than the average civilian anyway.

But you let it go. It truly wasn’t your business, after all.

It was Mark’s turn to look your way. Morbid curiosity was eating him alive. Or maybe that was just the pull of being with you again, seeing your face, hearing your voice…even if you hated him.

He did think you were torturing him a bit too. You smelled nice, like floral soap and minty freshness. You were wearing an oversized shirt from your college days that was already threadbare from how many times you ran it through the wash. It slipped off one shoulder and barely went halfway down your thighs, brushing the edge of some little shorts. He had to stop his eyes from following the path of your bare legs.

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” he asked.

You paused. You even set down your muffin and chuckled, giving him a long look.

“How does it look like I’ve been?”

A grim silence fell between you two, thick and tense.

“All right," he said. "How long’ve you been smoking?”

You shook your head, lips pursing at his audacity. “You really don’t have any right to judge me. You know that, right?”

Mark rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, an anxious, frustrated tick you knew well. “Look, what happened back then—”

You rose a hand to stop him. “Please, for the love of God. We don’t have to go through this shit again.”

You got up from the couch, intending to throw away the coffee cups and garbage if it meant gaining some space from this man.

But he followed you, stopped you with an imploring grip on your arm.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said. He met your gaze, firm, earnest. “It didn’t go down the way she said.”

Your instinct was to jerk your arm out of his grasp, but he just held you in place, gently, but insistent.

“Are you gonna let me explain this time? If you do, then just let me get it out. And afterward I’ll screw. I’ll walk the fuck outta here, and I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.”

You stared up at him, close to seething, but there was something in his eyes that stilled you, gripped you more than his hands. A sliver of doubt began to creep in.

Your sister apparently hated you enough to fuck your fiancé. Had she been vindictive enough to lie about it?

You had realized, all too late, that you couldn’t put anything past her. Mark could be stubborn, but he wouldn’t dig his heels in on this without a reason.

So you relented, with a small nod.

Breathing a subtle exhale of relief, Mark guided you back down to the couch. You turned off the TV and sat facing him with your arms crossed. You gave him an expectant look.

Mark steeled himself. Where to fucking start?

A beat to think, and then he knew.

He had to give you everything.

Nine Months Ago...

One late night. One fifth of whiskey at the hotel bar turned into numbers Mark stopped counting—until the Captain reminded him. Your father reminded him beyond the grave, with words Mark never forgot.

You’ve got someone waiting for you. Don’t take that for granted.

He needed to find you.

Somehow, he made it to the elevator by himself. Third floor. Room 304, 305, 306. Fuck. Was it 309?

The door opened, and his addled fucking brain thought it was you at first. She almost had your eyes, if just half the sincerity of your smile.

Rachel welcomed him in and shut the door. He stumbled at the threshold, and she stopped him from falling completely onto the floral-patterned carpet.

“Oh my God, Mark. You okay?”

No. And he knew he wasn’t ever gonna be okay.

But her hands were warm, carving sensuous paths under his leather jacket without him realizing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” she said, guiding him further into her hotel room. With slurring words, Mark asked her to go find you. He needed to talk to you.

“Shit, think I left my phone downstairs too. Needa get it,” he muttered.

“You’re a mess. I think you need to lay down first,” she said, huffing as she supported his weight over to her bed. She helped him lay down. A subtle smile tugged at her lips as she began to open up his jacket. He resisted at first, giving her a look of confusion.

“You should get comfortable. I doubt we’re gonna be able to move you from here.” She giggled.

He guessed he could see the sense in that. He let her help him shrug the black leather jacket off. You helped him pick it out a couple of weeks ago while you were planning for this trip.

Rachel tossed his jacket to the foot of the bed, and she sat close to him on the edge of it. Her bare thigh brushed against his arm as the skirt of her dress rode up. It looked like she’d been about to take a shower after a night out with you and your friends. He instinctively moved his arm, crossing it with the other over his chest.

“You know, I never got a chance to thank you,” she said.

Mark’s brows furrowed. It was taking all of his concentration just to keep her face in focus.

“For what?”

“You were really there for me when Dad passed. You were like our rock, coming by with food, checking in on me when you visited. It really meant a lot to me,” she said. Her words said one thing, but her eyes were beginning to lead him somewhere.

“Your dad was a good man,” he said tiredly. “You guys went through a lot. You, your mom, your sister. It uh, hit her pretty hard.”

Rachel’s lips pressed together. “Yeah… She was his favorite, you know.”

Mark blinked. “What, he said that?”

“He didn’t have to,” she said, glancing away. She began to drum her fingers against his arm. He noticed it, but he was also trying to concentrate on what she was saying. “He always talked to her more, trusted her more, even when he was harping on her. She got that government job, probably thanks to him. But he was proud of her.”

“’M sure he was proud of you too,” Mark said.

“No, I don’t think so. I just don’t know why,” she said, sniffling as tears welled up in her eyes.

Mark frowned in sympathy. “Aw, hey.”

He didn’t know how to make her feel better, but he didn’t like to see her cry either. He sat up the best he could in the bed. She met him halfway, burying her face in his chest and sliding her arms around his middle for a hug. He gave her that comfort, patting her on the back.

Only, she didn’t stop there. She shimmied a bit higher and buried her face in his neck, where she pressed a little kiss. An alarm bell rang in Mark’s mind, but his body was too slow to respond. She turned her head and laid another kiss on his cheek, and then his lips.

He finally jerked back, holding her at arm’s length.

“Hey. What the hell’re you doing?” he demanded. His tone was sharp without a filter.

Rachel’s tearful eyes met his as she bit her lip. Her hand tentatively drew down his chest, warm over his shirt.

“I just…I finally had to tell you how much you mean to me,” she said. “And I think she takes you for granted.”

His brows furrowing, Mark grabbed her wrist.

“Rach, I love you. I really do, but you’re like a lil' sister to me. I love your sister. I wanna marry her.”

The thought alone struck a sharp jolt of pain through his skull, and through his chest. He did want a life with you. But is that fucking fair?

Could he really shackle you to a dying man?

Sure, he didn’t know how long he had, but that could be a cruel waiting game, one you'd just gone through with your father for three months. Mark didn’t want to put you through that all over again.

“Look, just...go tell her 'm here. Please,” he said. The fight was draining out of him. His energy was waning, his eyes blinking slow.

Rachel nodded, wiping at her tears. She left him in a huff, but she went to lock herself up in the bathroom first. The sink faucet turned on.

Mark sighed. Fine, let her clean up and pull herself together, but she’d better go get you. He doubted he could make it, even if he crawled. But if he had to, he would…

Slowly, the ticking seconds turned longer. His eyes grew heavier, until he was unable to pry them open again. He fell asleep.

He woke to a streaming sun in his eyes, and a pounding ache between them.

Shit. He groaned, covering his eyes. Maybe getting drunk wasn’t good for an already fucked head after all.

“Hmm, good morning, sleepyhead.”

Mark frowned. He looked over and found Rachel leaning on his arm. She was lying naked under the thinnest sheet. He knew, not only because of her bare shoulders, but her nipples poking through the fabric.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunted, immediately turning over to climb out of the bed. He was very fucking relieved to see he still had his jeans and underwear on, but his shirt was missing. He found it strewn on the floor.

“You actually did that yourself,” Rachel remarked. “Think you got a bit hot last night.”

There was a playful note in her voice. Mark grit his teeth. He was fucking pissed.

“You’re over the fucking line, you hear me?” he snapped.

“What, are you really gonna tell her?” she taunted. “It’s not like we did anything. I just prefer to sleep naked.”

He snorted. Sure. And what happened to the part where she was supposed to go find you and tell you where he was? No, the girl saw an opportunity, and she took it.

Mark hesitated though, because she raised a good point. Goddamn it, what was he going to tell you?

His jaw clenched, and he angrily finished getting dressed. He got up and stormed out of the hotel room, but not before Rachel got of out bed and let the sheet fall away from her slender form. She walked in confidence and feminine sway over to the bathroom, smiling in amusement when he quickly turned away before he saw anything.

The door slammed shut.

Her smile slowly fell. Tears of embarrassment stung in her eyes. Not really because he was mad at her, but because he’d rejected her too.

She knew it was wrong. Yeah, she was pretty sure it was the worst thing she’d ever done. Part of her even hated herself for it. You were her older sister, after all. You, who always looked out for her when you two were kids—better than Mom did. You, who got the most attention from Dad, and the quiet reliance of Mom.

Yeah, Rachel did love you...but she also kind of hated you too.

After she got dressed, she went back to find her phone. She cycled through the pictures she took, every angle that made it seem like your fiancé had spent the night in her arms after the hot and steamy bits.

It was a joke. A cruel prank. But maybe after this, you wouldn’t open your mouth to criticize her ever again. Maybe you’d think twice next time, because in the back of your mind, you’d remember that she could’ve had your man.

Now...

Mark finished telling you the story from his perspective. He gave you as many details as he could remember: what she said and did, and what he said and did.

Understandably, you were getting more upset by the moment. That pendulum swung between shock, and anger, and upset again. It all culminated in hot tears as you crossed your arms, holding a hand over your mouth.

“How do I know that’s true?” you asked, wiping vainly at your cheeks.

The problem was, you wanted to believe him. Of course, you also wanted to believe your sister wasn’t quite as screwed up and hateful as you thought she was, but even this was insane. You'd only ever tried to look out for her. Maybe along the way you had been a little critical, a little too judgmental. But had you really deserved this?

Could you even let yourself hope it was all a lie?

Mark met your gaze head on. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

You sighed in frustration. “Mark, you’re a professional fucking liar. I’m not a human polygraph.”

“But you know me.”

“I thought I did,” you said, rubbing at your eyes with shaking hands. Eventually, you were able to look at him again. “If what you said is true, why the hell didn’t you just tell me that?”

“You wouldn’t let me! You made up your mind before I could get a word in edgewise.”

“I was angry!"

God, what an understatement. You'd been so furious and hurt, you'd seriously debated taking one of your dad's old golf clubs and knocking out every window, headlight, and tail light in Mark's precious car.

"So you're saying you didn’t even fight for me. You just let me think the worst of you all this time? For what?!” You sunk your hands into your hair and pulled hard on the strands. You shook your head. “And you know what, why did you get so drunk in the first place? Your friends told me you went back to the hotel early, by yourself. It had to be for a reason.”

Mark nodded slowly.

That was when he knew, he really did have to give you everything.

“You, uh…remember those headaches I’d been getting?” he said. “Started about a month after your dad passed.”

Your brows wrinkled with a hint of confusion, but you nodded as the memory resurfaced.

“Yeah, you were going through entire bottles of Advil. But what does that—”

“I went to the doctor.” Mark rubbed a clammy palm over his jeans. He could stare down murderers, drug lords, and terrorists with steel in his veins, but coming clean with you was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He knew it in his bones, just like he knew why he needed to do it.

“Turns out… I’m sick, baby.”

Your expression changed, almost instantly. Traces of anger and doubt fell away, but so did some of the color in your face.

Mark took the chance to get a little closer on the couch. He laid a hand over yours on your thigh, but your whole body was locked up, sitting very still.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean,” he sighed, “I’ve got a mass in my brain the size of Nevada. I don't know how much time I got exactly, but..."

Your eyes widened. Your hands clenched into the fabric of your shirt, until your nails bit into your palms. As you processed those words and began to understand the weight of them, it sunk inky claws into your mind, into every shady corner.

You shook your head in denial, lips trembling. Mark just held your gaze, a silent confirmation that he said nothing but the truth.

"I found out a few days before the trip to Venice. I was trying to figure out how to tell you, but obviously I didn’t handle that part very well," he said.

Anger, stubbornness, suspicion, pretending you didn't care what he had to say—all of that faded. It drained out of your muscles, out of your pores. You began to fall apart.

You turned your hand under his and squeezed, hard. It was a while before you could speak, but Mark was patient. He held your hand and stroked his thumb back and forth across your skin while you tried and failed to hold onto your tears. Then your soul-wracking sobs.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. He brought you closer, soothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a coarse whisper. “God, Mark. Why the fuck would you let me think you cheated on me, with my sister?”

He gave a wry huff. “I guess I thought I was being noble. I thought I’d rather have you hate me, than try to stay with me. Watch me break down, bit by bit, for God knows how fucking long. Now I know I’m just selfish. I don’t want you to see me like that… Hell, I don’t wanna see me like that.”

You pulled back on him. Devastation filled your bleary eyes, but you caressed his cheek with a shaking hand.

“Have you gotten treatment?” you asked.

“Doc says it’s not worth it.”

The divot between your brows deepened. “What about a second opinion?”

He hesitated.

“Have you seen another oncologist?” you pressed.

“No. Guess I didn’t see the point. I saw the scans myself. I don’t know how you’d confuse a big fucking tumor for anything else.”

“Mark.” You shook your head and wordlessly guided him closer. You framed his face with both hands, while his own found purchase on the soft curve of your waist.

It was nice to feel your touch again…but at what cost? All that stubborn fire in your eyes, all that pain, it was everything he’d been trying to avoid.

Still, you were gentle, sliding your fingers up into his hair. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

After all this time, you were still his peaceful spot. If you only knew the amount of death he’d seen in just the past couple of weeks on Blythe’s taskforce, the chaos, the stress of near-misses, being on the sweet razor edge of getting killed, saving his own body the trouble. That thrill took its toll.

Before that, those nine months undercover had been a divorce from his reality, pretending that he hadn’t left you broken along with whatever heart there was left in him.

He never imagined that he’d be here with you again. He never thought you’d forgive him, let alone touch him like you still loved him.

When he opened his eyes, you were still there. Tears clung wet to your lashes. You led him closer, where you tenderly rested your forehead against his.

He let you do it too. You were the only one he’d soften up for like this.

He smiled. “Hmmm. What now, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, but you slowly pulled back and opened your eyes. You didn’t go far though.

You guided him into an even more familiar path to your lips. It was more bittersweet than he remembered, but worth it all the same.

He was home.

AN: So, you guys forgive me? 😘💙 I know it's not the happiest ending ever, but it felt like a good place to pause for these two. Rachel was more complex than she seemed, and so was Mark's side of the story!

I have at least one more actual drabble in mind for these two, coming soon! 😂 Please let me know what you thought of this one 💜

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Mark Meachum Masterlist

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Mark Meachum Tag List (Part 1):

It seems like a lot of people on the Dean tag list like Mark! lol So if you prefer not to be on this list, just let me know. I'll take you off no problem (you won't hurt my feelings lol 💜).

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@chevroletdean @hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @jackles010378 @nancymcl @spnaquakindgdom @bettystonewell

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989 @siampie @masked-lost-girl

@spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @globetrotter28

@cookiechipdough @winchesterwild78 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @iprobablyshipit91 @bleuatlas

@mrsjenniferwinchester @fromcaintodean @kiddieclaws

#lovely review! 💖#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #zep replies

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revelboo · 3 days ago

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The insecticons with an army of sparklings made me think of Tarantulas and knowing how spiders are will he also have a lot of them? It can go for both IDW and ES, since they are used to being alone and then suddenly they have a bunch of clingy sparklings clinging to them whenever they go.

I can see him having multiple kids. I was searching for Tarantulas ref pics and I’d completely forgotten his IDW spider face crotch and spent five minutes giggling and snorting about it. My brain went terrible places and now I have to subject everyone to it. 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Weird

Tarantulas x Reader

• Is he flirting? He’s awful at it. And he’s stalking your way, mandibles flexing. Both sets. Trying your damnedest to not stare at his spider face crotch as those optics and the extra ones on his helm flare brighter. Making you wonder if they’re functional and you’ve not gotten up the nerve to ask if he’s getting an up close view of your bits every time you two do the deed. Why are aliens so weird? Glancing down, you see the fang tipped mandibles at his crotch spread slightly, flexing.

• Rumbling as you stare at him hungrily, no doubt so overcome with need, you’re speechless as he approaches you, releasing his spike to pressurize as you make a little noise and clap a hand over your mouth snickering. Why do you always do that? Claspers hooking against your hips to grab you, his spike presses against your belly, biolights pulsing. “Do those optics work?” You blurt and he stares at you. What? And you’re biting your lip as you point down. Why wouldn’t they work?

• “It’s my one of my favorite views of you,” he growls raspily and you start snorting as his thick furred servos cup your face to make him hiss softly at you. Laughing as he tips your face up, mandibles spreading to kiss you and you feel his sharp denta nip your bottom lip in reprimand. “I like watching as I claim and fill you,” he adds as you snort and he bumps you with his helm, extra spidery limbs lifting you and pulling you down on his spike as those waist mandibles clasp around your waist.

• Gripping you as his hips pump, he growls when you just keep giggling. Can’t even be that annoyed when you get like this and tease him, because you’re never actually malicious about it. That you accept him as he is at all means so much. You don’t see a monster or if you do, you’re kind enough to not call him one. Claspers shifting on you, digging in as he ruts against you, he shifts his plating. Feels you arch against him, thighs trembling in his grip as he claims you.

• He’s thrusting urgently inside you, limbs touching you everywhere as his spark engulfs you, tangling you in his memories. The hurt, loneliness, and madness twisting through you as you cling to him. Feel him coaxing you, hungry for you, for a family, and sparklings and you give in to him, feel the fangs on his mandibles dig into your hips to make you jerk. And you cry out as you come apart, feeling his spike driving deep, his everything sinking into you. Claiming and there’s a pull that makes you gasp as he overloads inside you, shuddering against you in hard drives of his hips.

#transformers x reader #tarantulas x reader #idw tarantulas #valveplug

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phone4pills · 2 days ago

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DRUMMER!chris fucks you to find the beat ( au by @55sturn )

After practice with the band, a sample of a new song had been developed but no matter how hard he tried, Chris couldn’t find the right drum beat. He was the only one left at the practice room and Chris felt a headache coming on from how hard he was thinking.

You drove by after work and stood in the doorway for a minute, watching as he played the sample, tapping on the table with his fingers and tutted to himself.

His creative process was interrupted when you cleared your throat, stepping into the roughly decorated space. “Gonna be done any time soon?”

Chris shook his head. “Nah. I just can’t find the right drum pattern to play. Nothing works with it.” He sighed, head falling into his hands so his fingers laced into his hair.

Chris was so stressed, it had never been this hard for him to figure something out. But he had a vision for this song, a really specific one, so everything had to be just right.

You walked over, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, instantly releasing some tension in the joint. Chris’ arm snaked around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap.

His head buried in the crook of your neck, lips catching the skin in a hot and desperate ambush of open-mouthed kisses.

“Need—you, right now, baby.” He groaned, guiding your hips along his painfully hard dick. You played along, sliding your hands up his shirt.

Chris’ fingers eagerly found your pants, wasting no time on pulling down the zipper and beginning to take them off. He tapped your ass lightly. “Get up.”

Now that you were on both feet he could easily remove your clothes. All of them. Usually Chris was the kind of guy to tease you until you were begging.

But he was horny. Really fucking horny. Chris rose to his feet, now towering over you as he slowly backed you into the corner, where his beloved drum kit stood.

The back of your legs hit the cold metal rim of the snare drum. You were worried that if you put too much weight on it, it would dismantle but Chris urged you with his knee, lodging it between your legs and pushing your thigh further so you’d sit right on the edge.

He dropped his bottoms, tugging at his cock once or twice before lining himself up. Then he had an idea. “Mind if I play somethin’? You shook your head, putting with impatience as he reached for his phone, pressing play on a sample.

Within seconds he was buried deep in your pussy, dick rubbing against your walls, pleasured by the confinement within you.

As the guitar and bass played under your moans. Chris synced his thrusts with the instruments, finding a steady beat to drill into you.

“Fuckin hell, you feel so good.”

It was only a minute before he picked up pace, his dick coated in your shit almost instantly. “You like it faster, huh?”

You nodded, struggling for air. Your head fell against his shoulder, bitting on the plain of skin on the crook of his neck. At that point it was settled, he’d play drums at the faster bpm.

Now that was decided, he could focus on bottoming out, driving in and out of you so hard you saw stars. “That’s right baby. Make a mess on my drum kit.”

And you did. Coming completely loose so when you stood up it was dripping off the edge like icing on a cake. Like lacquer over his dark red drum kit.

pretty little chris fic. also my hopefully somewhat accurate take on this au. ONCE AGAIN CREDITS TO THE WONDERFUL 55STURN. ily star 💫🤎. oh and goodnight.

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kerosenee-kisses · 2 days ago

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All That You Desire | Sylus LADS

Summary: Not only would Sylus do just about anything for you...he’d let you do just about anything to him.

cw: MDNI, afab reader, footjobs whoops, oral sex(giving + receiving), fingering, nipple play, restraints (lite), Sylus is so lover boy

wc: 3.8k

a/n: throwing this onto the dash like a grenade. I don't normally care about foot stuff but Sylus really brought it out of me. I just like how much he likes being desired by MC, it's so cute.

This one is for the fellow night owls!! Rather fitting considering Sylus is nocturnal. It is kind of late for me to be posting but I was so excited to share as soon as I finished. I'm really proud of this one because I was doubting myself when it came to capturing his voice. I think I ultimately did a good job. Hope you enjoy!

banner by @cafekitsune!

It’s turning out to be a peaceful night by N109 Zone standards. You find yourself enjoying dinner with Sylus–at an appropriate hour no less–after a tiny scuffle at an auction and a not so tiny encounter with a hoard of wanderers. The pair of you were so in sync, however, that the fight was over in the blink of an eye. One resonance later, and you were on your way home for some much-needed quality time together.

As you indulge in the delicious, tender scallops his chef prepared for your entree, you’re reminded that it’s been far too long since you and Sylus could just...be. Exist in the gentle tug of each other’s orbit. It’s a heartwarming feeling.

“What are you so giddy about, hm?” he asks.

“Just happy to be spendng time with my favorite guy,” you say.

His smile grows wide at your candor. He takes your hand in his and kisses it. “It’s been far too long since I last saw you. I’m glad we were able to remedy that tonight.”

“Oh, did the big, bad leader of Onychinus miss me?” you ask.

“More than you know.”

Your face flares with heat. You love it when he’s sweet with you like this.

There’s a loud knock on the double doors at the opposite end of the ornate dining room. Luke pops his head in and waits for Sylus's gesture for him to come forward.

“This the one you wanted, Boss?” Luke asks as he slinks over to Sylus, a bottle of red wine in hand.

Sylus takes the bottle from him and inspects the label, yellowed with age. “Ah, yes, a beautiful vintage. This will pair nicely with the scallops.”

Luke takes his leave, not before giving you two thumbs up behind Sylus’s back. You don’t think anyone roots for your relationship more than him and Kieran.

Sylus summons a wine key with his evol and opens the bottle gracefully, like he’s putting on a show for you. You even clap once he pours a bit into his glass to sample.

“Did you like that, sweetie?” He laughs as he swirls the wine in his glass and brings it up to his nose. He sighs at the scent of the alcohol, then drinks what little he poured.

“I seem to like everything you do these days,” you say as he fills your glass. “And to think I once wanted you dead. Life is funny that way, isn’t it?”

Sylus laughs only once, devoid of any humor. “Hilarious.”

“What are we toasting to?” you ask.

“To us.” He lifts his now full glass; you raise yours to meet his with a soft clink. “We’ve come a long way if you can sit at my table and not shoot me in the heart.”

“Heyyy, that’s not fair. You told me too!”

“I do admit, I did provoke you. But you did ultimately pull the trigger.”

“Let’s return to our meal. Chef didn’t work so hard just for the scallops to get cold.”

You catch Sylus up on what’s been going on in your life lately. Your schedules have been so misaligned for the past few weeks that you haven’t had much time for phone calls. Just the occasional texts saying, ‘I love you’ and ‘Don’t forget to eat’. You nearly talk his ear off as you devour two servings of scallops, much to Chef’s and Sylus’s mutual appreciation.

He is very clearly in good spirits, your beau. He is all too happy to keep your glass full, and before you know it, the bottle is empty and you’re a little tipsy.

“Shall I have Luke fetch another bottle?” Sylus asks as you're served lemon tarts for dessert.

“You just want to get me drunk,” you whine.

“I don’t hear you complaining about that.”

Luke returns with two white wine glasses and a bottle of Riesling.

“I’m having such a nice evening with you. I love it when we can spend time together, just us two,” you say.

Sylus tilts his head at you slightly, his eyes soft as they meet yours. He feeds you some of his lemon tart, a beautiful smile decorating his face.

“And I love you,” he says sweetly. “Time spent with you... there’s nothing better.”

“I love you, too. I want to hang out with you all day, every day. I only wish I could.”

“There’s a simple solution to that problem, as you already know.”

“Working for an underground crime syndicate isn’t high up on my list of priorities. As you already know.”

“Why not move this conversation to the parlor sweetie?” Sylus asks, your hand in his, as it had been for most of the evening. You hiccup your agreement, and he chuckles softly at the sound.

Sylus takes a seat on one of the luxurious chesterfield couches and gestures to the place beside him. You drop into it with a long, drawn-out sigh. You settle against the arm of the couch and rest your bare feet on his lap. He easily takes one of them into his hands to give you a massage. You practically melt into the couch; the relief you feel is unparalleled.

You’ve never felt quite so safe as you do with Sylus. An insane sentiment considering how much you used to loathe him. Like ‘wish for his slow, painful death’ level loathing. Thinking of that now makes you a bit embarrassed. But at least you’ve come to love and appreciate him now. Who else would so dutifully rub your feet until you’re reduced to a puddle of relaxation?

The combination of the wine and the massage is amazing for relaxing all your muscles. Especially your tongue.

“Mmm Sy,” you say as you nudge his thigh with your free foot. “Would you ever let me tie you up?”

He chuckles as he carefully places one foot back into his lap and reaches for the other. He presses his thumbs into the sole, and you practically purr in satisfaction.

“Of course I would. No matter how outrageous your ideas kitten, you know I’ll always indulge you.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly. “You think that’s outrageous?”

Sylus smirks at you. “Not in the slightest.”

“Is that so? If that’s the case, then there is something else that I’ve always wanted to try…” You trail off once you notice Mephisto, perched on one of the ornate lamps behind Sylus. Where did he even come from?

“Mephie, get out of here. Shoo!”

Mephisto lets out a chorus of squawks that you’re sure is his version of cursing you out.

“Easy kitten, let him be.”

The crow flies off his perch only to assume a new one on the opposite arm of the sofa. His head is quirked in that way you can’t stand. You lurch forward to grab him, but he flies away with another loud, taunting squawk, the sound amplified by Sylus’s own laughter as he grabs you and sits you on his lap. 

“Ignore Mephisto for now. Your energy is better suited for telling me what it is that you desire.”

“There! These are pretty good knots if you ask me.” You test the restraints on his wrists that keep him tethered to the posts of his massive bed. “I deserve a kitty badge for my hard work.”

Sylus sits up against the headboard, arms spread wide. He’d removed his shirt at your request, but he still dons his starchy jeans.

You, however, are completely naked before him. He drinks in the sight of you like he did the wine at dinner. Appreciative. Intoxicated.

“You’re being so docile,” you say as you lightly scratch your nails down his pec. “I really like that.”

Sylus pins you with a sultry look, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I aim to please.”

You sit at the opposite end of the bed and ease one foot up his thigh and over the bulge in his pants. Sylus watches you closely as you press your toes against his hard cock. It twitches beneath you as you slowly trace the outline of it. And yet, he barely squirms, only watches with that weighty gaze of his, waiting patiently. No matter, you have time enough to get him properly riled up. You crawl up to him and undo the zipper.

“Eager, are we?” He raises his hips so you can more easily pull down his jeans and briefs at once. “You hardly even teased me sweetie. I promise, I can take it.”

“I’m far from done,” you huff as you finally get the rest of his clothes off. “You’ll be eating your words once I’m through with you. I’m going to spoil you rotten, just like you do for me.”

Sylus chuckles darkly. “Do your worst.”

You lay on your stomach, his bent legs bracketing you on either side. You pick up his heavy cock where it rests on his abdomen and give the head a slow lick.

“Let’s get it nice and wet first,” you say before you wrap your mouth around him. You take your time sucking him off, savoring the taste of his skin. It’s not that Sylus doesn’t like getting head from you; as he’s said on more than one occasion, he enjoys anything that involves you. But he’d much rather spend time pleasing you instead. As sweet as he is, you’re eager to return the favor. You pump his cock to spread the mixture of pre-cum and saliva. You hollow your cheeks and relax your throat to take more of him, and you hear his breath falter slightly. Much better.

You release him with a wet pop in favor of crawling over to the nightstand to retrieve a bottle of lube. You pour a generous amount into your palm and work it into his hardened member with both hands. You can’t help it; you take the head back into your mouth as you coat him in the lubricant. You have to force yourself to stop when you see his stomach spasm.

“Mmm Sylus. I just love your cock. It’s big and beautiful like you.” A spurt of pre-cum leaks out, and you giggle. 

“You do know how to give a compliment,” Sylus groans.

You push yourself into a seated position and wave the bottle cheekily. “Let’s use some more of this.”

You squeeze more lube into your hand and rub it into the soles of your feet. You glance at his glistening cock and rub some more of the lube for good measure.

“Perfect,” you hum before tossing the bottle off to the side. You position his cock between your feet and slowly drag them up the length of him. Sylus shudders as you jerk him off. He can’t seem to decide between watching your feet as they toy with him or keeping eye contact with you.

You rest your left foot on the bed of white, downy hair on his pelvis and use your right foot to press his cock against the top of the left one. You inch your toes down his length, then back up until you reach the tip. You press your heel down against his balls and Sylus groans. Cum oozes out of him, aiding the slide of your foot as you work him up.

“You sure you can take more, baby?” you ask, a coy smile on your face. You gasp when you feel his cock harden again.

“I sincerely hope you aren’t through with me yet. I’m feeling far from spoiled.”

You turn away from him, on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder as you try to get his cock in the perfect position. Once you have him securely in place you start jerking him off again, more quickly this time. The feel of his twitching length turns you on so much you’re not sure what you want to do to him next. Your own breathing becomes heavy from the knowledge that you have Sylus’s pleasure in the palms of your hands.

...More like the soles of your feet.

You look up at your beloved. He’s panting, his eyes nearly sparkling as he meets your lustful gaze.

“Mmm, tell me Sylus. What is it that I desire? What do you see when you look at me?”

“Hah. You’re very dangerous company to keep.”

You press your feet closer together to tighten your grip. When you drag your feet back up, Sylus moans like he’s in pain.

“Don't keep me waiting, my love.” You notice your own voice is a bit husky with want, and the sound of it drives up your arousal. “Go on, tell me what you see with those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Sylus draws in a shaky breath. His right eye glows as he says, “All that you desire...is me.”

“Yes, my darling. All I want is you. I want you to come undone for me.”

You speed up your movements while keeping him securely in the clutch of your soles. But it doesn’t take much longer for him to cum all over your feet again. Sylus loves nothing more than you, and your want for him is more than enough to get him cumming in his pants on a normal day. Not that many people would believe that to be true.

You turn back around and lick his spend off his cock and stomach. His breathing is ragged as he watches you clean him up so diligently.

You straddle his hips and press a kiss to the center of his chest.

“You’re so sexy like this. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

“I hope you never do, kitten.”

You push yourself onto your feet so you stand right before him, your soaking pussy so close to his waiting mouth. You card your fingers into his hair, then yank so he looks up at you. He moans again; if he hadn’t cum just a moment ago, you’re sure the hair tugging alone would have sent him over the edge.

“Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Sylus lets out a breathless laugh. He looks at you with wonder glittering in his ruby red eyes. “You’re getting better at bossing me around. As I wished.”

You grab the headboard once Sylus spreads your dripping flesh with his tongue. He’s eager as he kisses your lips and sucks them into his mouth. You already feel weak in the knees from his erotic enthusiasm.

“Fuck, Sylus!” you whisper when he sucks your clit, moaning as he does. Your body is alight with ecstasy, he’s too good at making you cum. This might have been a miscalculation on your part.

Arousal gushes out of you when he fucks his tongue into you, his perfect nose nudging at your stiffened clit with every push into your hole. You grab his hair again so you can move him how you like as you roll your hips over his face. He groans as you hump against him desperately until you cum hard, a shriek of his name echoing in his spacious chambers.

You collapse into his lap and kiss him sloppily, licking up your sticky cum as you press yourself closer to him. You thought you had more in you, but you’re desperate for him now. You sit yourself on his cock and rock against him. He fills you so well that you could cum just from sitting on it.

He kisses you wantonly, straining against his bindings to try and get closer to you. Something about him remaining tied up, even though he could easily break out of them, arouses you to no end.

You get up on your knees and whine when his cock slips out of you. But you need to feel his hands on you now. You try to untie one of the restraints, but your hands are a bit shaky from the desire pulsing through you.

“Damn it, I really did tie these too well. Sylus, ngh, fuck,” you pant. He’s taken one of your nipples into his mouth and is sucking without mercy. In an instant the restraints are magicked away in a swirl of his evol. He pulls you closer to him, abandoning your breast to kiss you deeply. His hands roam your entire body, like he hasn’t been able to touch you in decades.

“Well, did you get your fill?” he asks as he kisses your neck. “If not, I can give you more.”

You tug his earlobe between your teeth. “Give me more Sylus. I need more of you.”

Sylus settles you back against the bed. He presses sweet, wet kisses down your body until he faces your pussy once more.

“I didn’t get nearly enough the first time. You really are such a tease.”

“Fuck, Sy...don’t stop,” you breathe when he starts to lick at your core again. One hand travels the expanse of your body to squeeze at your breast. Your heart beats even harder.

“Mmm, kitten,” he sighs against the lips of your cunt. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You don’t know how many orgasms Sylus wrings out of you with just his mouth. He barely detaches from your core, content to lap and kiss and suck your intimate flesh until the bed and his face are a mess from your cum.

“There’s no dessert sweeter than this,” he tells you.

You moan desperately. Fire licks underneath your skin and you writhe away.

“Don’t run from me, kitten.” Sylus pulls you back to him and braces one of his arms over your hips. He devours you even more relentlessly. Your legs shake; your clit is almost raw from all the attention it’s getting. You feel floaty in the face of such a barrage of pleasure.

“Sylus, I need you to fill me up,” you moan.

“My, my aren’t you greedy?” Sylus presses a finger inside of you, pulling a gasp from deep within you. “It’s very attractive. Make more demands of me. Please.”

“M-more. I need more.” It’s impossible for you to produce words in this state.

“I’ll give you more.” He adds a second finger and you hiss. “You like that?”

He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you arch up like his own marionette. Sylus knows exactly where to press and rub to drive you crazy.

“Not-hngh-not what I meant."

“Not enough? How about now?” Another thick digit fills you up. You can hardly protest with how ragged your breathing has become. He fucks you with his three long fingers. You moan with each caress of his fingers inside your cunt. His thumb joins in on his wicked assault; arousal squirts out of you as you chase after the pleasure he’s giving.

You gasp when Sylus pulls his fingers out of you so he can swallow as much of your squirt as he can. He groans against your pussy, and you cum hard as he continues to kiss you.

Sylus rests his head on your shaking thigh, a wicked smile quirking up his full lips.

“Still not enough?”

You shake your head as you try to get your bearings. Your vision is hazy from the intensity of your orgasm, but your needs are clear as day. You need him to fuck you.

Sylus kneels before you at once, in tune with your thoughts and desires as clearly as he would his own. He takes one of your ankles in his hand and licks the sole of your foot, runs his tongue along your toes.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You can’t look away from him. You feel your cunt tighten when he sucks your big toe into his mouth.

“I love every inch of you." He nibbles on the arch of your foot and more arousal gushes out of you. “But actions speak louder than words. Surely, you know this?”

Sylus kisses from your ankle to your calf. Your breaths are even more labored now, and you’re suddenly confused about when the roles reversed. You’ll have to hold out a little longer next time.

He drapes both your legs on his broad shoulders and presses them against the mattress.

“Now this is a good position,” he says. He eases his cock into you and you both moan in tandem. You’re so tight at this angle; Sylus can barely pull back enough to properly fuck you. He presses his hips into yours in a languid rhythm that has you sighing and moaning his name.

“Who could ever do anything to me except you?” he whispers in your ear. A shiver courses down your spine. “You possess me body and soul.”

Each slow stroke sends a jolt straight to your heart. Sylus laces his fingers with yours and presses one of your hands into the mattress. The kiss you both exchange is a passionate dance of your tongues. You could kiss him forever.

“S-same.” Is all you can manage with him stuffing you so full of cock. You screw your eyes shut when he pointedly thrusts into your sweet spot. You arch against him and whimper his name. But he pulls away from you and brings his free hand up to lovingly caress your face.

“That’s all I get, sweetie?”

Your eyes flutter open, even though every drive of his hips threatens to close them again. You turn your face to kiss his palm, eyes never leaving his. Surprise flickers across his face.

“You’re mine forever, Sylus.”

His face glows from the smile he gives you. Sylus gathers you in his arms and kisses you earnestly. You clutch at him too, desperate to be one with him. Your greatest love.

Sylus barely pulls away from you now, pressing deeper and deeper inside your quivering walls. He’s so close, and you’re determined to make him cum first.

It’s your time to shine.

“Sylus.” Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip as you whisper his name. “Sylus, I love you.”

He drops his weight on you and cums with a groan of your name into the crook of your neck. You rub his lower back as he comes down from his climax. You’re feeling rather smug.

“You don’t play fair,” he sighs into your neck, then kisses the hinge of your jaw.

“What, am I not supposed to profess my love for you?” you bat your eyes at him exaggeratedly. He rolls you both over so that you rest on his stomach.

“You can. But just know, I will keep you bound to me for all eternity.” Sylus traces his fingers along your brown and down your cheek. “Our connection transcends this place and time.”

You take his face in both hands and kiss his forehead.

“Can’t wait.”

#late night ramblings #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x you #l&ds sylus #sylus smut #love and deep space fic #love and deepspace smut #banner by cafekitsune #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace

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foxsdenofmuses · 13 hours ago

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"I don't need YOU to worry about me. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself with ease, and clearly a bus isn't going to do anything to me as you just saw." Kitsunami did have to fight the urge to summon his water and threaten Sonic with them given how he suddenly got into his personal space without much warning. Only person who could do that was Surge, and maybe Belle on a good day.

"I know Sonic the Hedgehog isn't complaining to me about being reckless. Why don't you worry bout working on that yourself first?" Silas would cross his arms as he spoke, though focused on Surge. "Yeah, that doesn't tell me jack. Mind giving me some more detail than that?" The mole asked as that could mean a number of things in all honestly.

"Surge turned herself into G.U.N to make sure I was allowed to walk away freely. You seem to know Surge on a personal level, or before she was Surge. Start talking old man. I want information and I want it now as if you knew Surge before then you knew me too. I will beat it out of you." Kitsunami was clearly trying way too hard to be tough and intimidating like Surge, though he was clearly going over board and being all over the place with it.

"Whoa, easy there kid. Ya just gotta ask as you and me are cool. Well, we were cool before you became... this," Silas said motioning to Kitsunami. "Clearly Sparks got to ya, though I ain't surprised. You followed her around the gym like her number one fan. Tried your hardest to copy her too, despite your cousin's attempts to get ya to stop."

"Cousin? I had a cousin?" Kitsunami asked, his body starting to relax all of a sudden. "Yeah... yeah, I remember, sorta. She was, taller than me, and over protective. I can't picture a face, though she was a bit, weird." The fennec scratched his head as he was now stumped. "Okay, progress is good. That's what Surge said. Gotta head to the town."

===========================================================

"You'd be surprised the amount of support one can receive even just by sitting behind a desk and doing paperwork. Gardon is a prime example of this as while I may often be the one out in the field, protecting Sol, and handling the bigger issue's Gardon does much himself, even if some may see his task as minor or small. It allowed me to leave him in charge while I'm away, and no a single person complained because he works hard, and is good at talking to people. You are as well Jewel." Blaze knew there was more to being a good leader than being out in the field or handling only the big issue's.

"However, if you truly do require a break to regain your bearings and bring yourself to a better mental state then I'd be fine with taking the reign's for awhile. It'll assist me in getting back into the swing of things for whenever I return to Sol. And when you're ready to come back, I shall mentor you if you wish. Personally I think Amy was far too eager to return to the field and should've make sure you could've handled everything the job requires." Blaze might need to have a bit of a talking to when Amy recovers about her haste.

===========================================================

"I'm sure as soon as I leave the base G.U.N will be tracking my every move, so no real place I can go to completely avoid them." Belle was sure they'd either have someone follow her or just use state of the art satellite to track her. The tinkerer would simply embrace it has best she can and keep her head up high. She wouldn't be afraid of them.

"I started working on this after we got out of Eggman's city from Starline's trap. I sorta realized when I was hooked up to Metal Sonic the only way to really reason with him is through action, not words. He's so obsessed with speed and power to beat Sonic, though also respects him to some level. It's was certainly a learning experience."

Sonic was pretty lost in thought as he had to slow down alot for the kid to walk and think things out. He honestly didn't like to think much as it often lead him to depressing thoughts. Hence why he kept moving all the time, and never stopped to think much past what was in front of him. But he also knew Kit had alot of things to work out in his head and that all of this was alot for him to process.

He didn't even initially respond to Kit's warning as he looked up from his thoughts and sort of freaked out! the bus was coming right at them! and Sonic just assumed Kit had the speed to avoid it which he did! So he jumped back to let it speed by--- THEN this crazy kid took a bus to the face! and didn't even flinch!

Chip damn it that kid was crazy!

" ARE YOU INSANE!!!! "

He shouted as he scrambled over to Kit to see if he was ok! even though he was sure he could survive a hit like that it didn't make it less crazy!

" That was a bus! you coulda i don't know! hurt yourself or something! "

He snapped his head around at the old man as he came out of the Bus. One half of him wanted to throttle the bastard, and the other wanted to see if he was ok. Instead he just leaned toward the old man with a discerning stare.

" Can we address your wreckless driving first... damn dude... seriously..."

He crossed his arms like a scornful mother!

" Surge is uhh indisposed... also you hit him WITH A BUS! "

==============================================

Jewel smiled at Blaze as she appreciated the princesses kind words and yet she wasn't sure she was so sure herself. She sat behind a desk, filled out papers and other more qualified people did the hard work. She was a glorified bureaucrat! She didn't exactly go to school for this sort of work. In fact it was closer to what her father wanted her to do and be. That thought made her shoulders sink as the last thing she wanted was to think of her criminal family. Only one who really knew was Tangle and she was a tad afraid of others finding out.

" Perhaps... but i didn't do anything Amy couldn't have done on her own. I just wanted to help... i'm not really qualified for this job...i'm a Geologist... i specialize in crystals... gems and rare minerals. I'm hardly qualified to run an organization like this..."

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves down as it was clear all this shook her.

" I should have known what Clutch was up to... but i let him lead me along like chao to water... i don't know. I think after all this... i need to pass the torch to someone else at least for awhile... i miss my crystals... i miss my museum... and all this has just rattled my carapace... "

Jewel piled up several papers on a Desk in preparation for the GUN Agents. Yet it was more to keep herself busy so the stress didn't get to her. On that note she did hope her father didn't get wind of Clutches little attack on her. He would probably put a hit on him... Family was Family he'd say regardless if she was disowned. She'd have to talk to him before that happened... bad man or not she didn't want to see Clutch get killed because of this either.

===============================================

Miles rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile as he was both proud of Belle and worried for her. He had come to respect that free will of hers and her ingenuity. In a real way she was the legacy of Tinker... and Eggman both. Not just some bot who could think but an innovator... and he couldn't help but hope she had a future free of men like the general.

" Heh you're the boss... i wouldn't pretend to tell you what to do Belle. Mostly just want to make sure you get someplace safe till this dies down ya know? "

He placed his hands behind his back and marched alongside her with his tails swishing behind him.

" So when did you build this? pretty impressive... reminds me a little of the old tornado... man i shoulda put my face on that! why didn't i think of that... "

#atangledfate #Kitsunami the Fennec #Nervous Shaking Water #Silas the Mole #Boxing Punching Mole #Blaze the Cat #Burning Sol Guardian #Belle the Tinkerer #Gentle Tinkering Puppet #rp #ic #oc #IDW Sonic

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femmesport · 23 hours ago

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Almost Something - Chapter Six

warnings: suggestive themes (conversations again ig??) an: i left yall hanging for a while so i am trying to get together multiple chapters. honestly this chapter changed my plan entirely. like it shattered everything i had planned, so i will be making adjustments. this chapter felt right and i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do. unedited as usual whoops wc: 2.5k

Paige tried to be normal. She tried as hard as she could and for the most part it was working. It was working when she was sitting down having a genuinely nice conversation with Selina. Selina had been incredibly sweet and easy to get along with.

Their conversations flowed naturally between shared topics of interest and playful arguments about music. It was easy in a way Paige hadn’t expected.

Paige had agreed to hang out with Aubrey’s girlfriend and her roommate fully expecting to come in and sit in silence until she inevitably left early. She hadn’t expected to talk to Selina and get to know her in a way that felt comfortable and easy.

She was doing fine with all of this until her phone had buzzed. She saw Azzi’s name pop up at the top of her screen. She chose to ignore this message. She knew Azzi was likely fine and would reach out more if something was wrong.

Paige sat and continued on her conversation with the sweet, gorgeous girl in front of her. She did fine until a call came ringing through. Azzi’s name was on the top of her screen. She sighed and excused herself.

“Hey, what’s up?” Paige answers the phone lightly and mildly exasperated.

“P,” Azzi’s voice was weak and far too quiet.

“Everything okay?” Paige’s body was tensing up and every nerve was lit up at the possibility that Azzi was not okay and she needed her.

“Uh, yeah…but could you come pick me up?” Azzi’s voice was cracking in a telltale sign of tears. Paige is heading towards the door despite voices calling after her.

“Yeah, send me the address,” Paige replies as she steps into her car.

“Can we…can I stay on the phone?” Azzi’s voice was small in a way that Paige winced at. Azzi was many things but small and weak didn’t come anywhere near the list of words Paige would choose.

“Yeah,” Paige is starting her vehicle and plugging the address into her car. She was only five minutes out.

“My car says I am five minutes out, but give me two or three and I am there,” Paige explains as she is pulling off into the road.

Azzi lets out a laugh at that, “thank you, P.”

“Of course,” Paige pauses, “can you give me some assurance here that you are actually fine and I shouldn’t be preparing to commit a felony on your behalf.” Her tone was joking but the words were far too serious for Paige to think too long about.

“I promise, I am okay. Maybe a bit sad, but good, promise,” her words were short and her voice was steady. Paige believed her. She always believed Azzi.

The two stay on the phone with occasional soft whispers until Paige is pulling in front of a dorm building she had never heard of. Azzi was sitting outside on the steps with her knees pulled close to her chest.

Her head tilted up at the sound of the car pulling up. Paige saw Azzi’s face was red with tear tracks down her face. As Azzi hung up, Paige gave herself a moment to calm down. Azzi would tell her if something was wrong. Azzi wouldn’t lie to Paige.

“Hey,” Paige’s voice and face is soft as Azzi gets into the passenger seat. Azzi silently buckles in and turns to face Paige. The lights inside the car show her tear stained face and it broke Paige a bit.

Paige wrapped her hand around Azzi’s neck and pulled her closely so that she could wrap her arms around the younger girl. Azzi just grabs onto the sides of Paige’s shirt tightly and pulls her in just as tight.

Azzi presses her face into Paige’s neck and the breath she lets out is so unsteady. Paige holds Azzi tighter at the feeling of her broken breath on her neck. She rubs gentle patterns down Azzi’s back.

They sit like this for a moment longer. When Azzi finally begins to let go and pull away Paige leans back and looks at her.

“Azzi, I believe you,” Paige starts, “I believe that you are okay, but I am really worried. Can you tell me what is going on?” Paige’s voice is soft and encouraging and Azzi sighs before looking down at her hands.

“Tyler and I went out tonight,” Azzi’s voice starts and Paige’s mind begins racing with all the possibilities of how she could’ve gotten to this point.

Paige nods, encouraging Azzi to continue on with her explanation.

“It went great, we saw that movie we have been talking about. Then we went back to his place. I wanted tonight to be the night we…” Azzi’s voice broke at the end and her face flushed in explanation, “ya know.”

Paige felt a lump in her throat. She was entirely unequipped for this conversation. Paige was convinced she must’ve done something truly horrible in her past life for her to be stuck in this conversation.

“Okay…” Paige tried to keep her voice level and encouraging.

“Well, we were back and when things started leading to that point,” Azzi’s breath hitched and Paige’s hand clenched.

“Azzi, did he do something you didn’t want? I swear to God I will go in there and-” Azzi is shaking her head.

“No, he was fine. Really, it was me. I just…I couldn’t,” Azzi explains and Paige feels immediate guilt at the relief that washes over her.

Paige was confused. Azzi was so upset and Paige wanted to help her but had no idea how to.

“So, I told him. He was fine with that, but I felt so guilty and I couldn’t be in his dorm any more. I couldn’t be up there with him anymore,” her voice broke at the end and Paige remained quiet.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Paige starts after a moment of silence, “you are allowed to set boundaries. You are allowed to not be ready. Tyler should respect that.”

“He did. That’s the worst part,” Azzi is putting her head in her hands. Paige was really confused.

“The worst part? Az, I am a bit confused,” Paige starts and Azzi groans. Not upset with Paige, just frustrated.

“I know, me too,” Azzi lifts her head and looks at Paige, “I wanted him to be mad. I wanted him to be upset because then I could justify dumping him. Paige, I wasn’t ready and it was all me…and then I dumped him.”

Paige freezes and Azzi doesn’t break their eye contact, “I dumped him without reason. I am an asshole,” Paige goes to interrupt but Azzi just holds up her hands, “I am and that is fine. He was really nice about it, and he honestly got it. It wasn’t him, it was never him.”

Her voice was firm and Paige had no words. She just sat and looked at Azzi. Her heart was beating and she was frozen. Azzi didn’t break their eye contact.

“Were you,” she starts, “were you busy when I called you?”

“Uhm, I was with Aubrey…and her girlfriend and her roommate.” Paige explains, startled by the quick shift in the conversation.

Azzi hums and just looks at Paige for a moment, “but you left for me?”

“Always,” Paige’s response was immediate and sure.

Azzi just smiled in a soft yet sad way. She looked for a moment longer before nodding and turning away from Paige with a bit of effort.

Paige stares for a moment longer before clearing her throat, “your place?”

“Yes, please,” Azzi’s voice was soft and her eyes went down to her hands as they fidgeted.

Paige nodded and then handed Azzi her phone to play music. Routine. Normal. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove out in silence. Azzi played music and Paige just focused on breathing normally and trying to think about anything besides the fact that Azzi dumped Tyler.

By the time they were pulling into their apartment building, Paige hadn’t thought a single coherent thought. She sat in silence and let Azzi lead the way out of Paige’s car.

The two stuck together silently as they headed up on the elevator. The doors opened on Azzi’s floor and she stepped forward silently before pausing and turning around.

“Want to hang out?” Azzi offers simply. Paige just looks at her quizzically as if trying to figure out what Azzi was actually saying.

After a moment, Paige nods and then follows Azzi out of the elevator and towards her apartment. Azzi unlocks the door before turning around.

“Can we…not tell the team, yet?” Azzi whispers and Paige gives her a slightly puzzled look, “I just need a moment to figure out why I did what I did before I can tell them.”

Paige nods, “yeah. Makes sense.”

Azzi nods before turning around and following Azzi into the apartment. KK, Ice, Allie, and Jana were all loudly playing a game on the PlayStation hooked up to their living room tv. Despite their volume, they shift to look at the two who entered. Ice raised her eyebrows.

“What are y’all doing here?” KK voices the question everyone had.

“I think we are going to go watch a movie in my room,” Azzi shrugs as she takes off her shoes.

Paige looks down at her feet doing the same and trying to not think about the look the other girls were giving her. She focuses on her shoes as Azzi fields off any questions.

Azzi nudges her slightly as the silence starts to settle. Azzi is holding her hand out and Paige grabs it as if it was the most normal thing. Hand-in-hand Azzi leads her to her room as her teammates dramatically respond behind them. Paige’s neck felt hot, but she followed Azzi like she always would.

Azzi leads her in and shuts the door behind her. Paige stands awkwardly which Azzi quickly picks up on. Paige was never awkward or uncomfortable with Azzi.

“I know I didn’t give you time to go get comfortable clothes,” Azzi is walking towards her dresser, “want to borrow something?”

“Uh, yeah” Paige’s voice comes out awkward and maybe too quiet.

Azzi is passing her back some old boxers and an old team USA practice shirt. Paige takes them and heads towards the door.

“It’s just me,” Azzi’s voice halts Paige’s actions, “you can change in here you know.”

Paige freezes and nods, “right. Yeah, sorry.”

Azzi turns back towards the dresser and is going through looking for her own clothes to wear. Paige changes quickly trying to finish before Azzi can turn around. She is pulling the shirt down as Azzi turns around. Azzi’s eyes are quickly shifting downwards.

Paige pauses before going to sit on Azzi’s bed. Azzi stays near the dresser and starts to change her outfit. The second Paige saw lace material covering her back muscles, she looked down and unlocked her phone trying to find something worth paying attention to.

She knew she wouldn’t. She knew Azzi was the only thing worth paying attention to, but that wasn’t fair of Paige. So, her eyes stayed looking down.

It was only a few moments longer before Azzi was joining Paige in the bed. Azzi pressed into Paige’s side so that their thighs were touching. Paige felt every point of contact as if it was physically burning her skin. Yet, she stayed still.

“What do you want to watch?” Azzi’s voice is soft and quiet as she leans over to grab the remote. Paige shrugs as if Azzi could see her.

“Whatever you want is fine,” she says after a moment of silence. Azzi just smiles at Paige.

“You’d always let me pick, wouldn’t you?” Azzi smiles and her voice is slightly teasing. It was normal and yet Paige flushes at the words. She attempts to remain confident.

“Always,” Paige’s voice was weak but a grin broke out on her face. Azzi is laughing slightly before turning her attention back to the tv.

Paige takes this moment to look over Azzi. She looks at the way her curls framed her face. The way her eyes shifted quickly over titles on the tv in front of them. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly with a small smile still formed from their conversation.

“How’s this?” Azzi asks and Paige’s attention doesn’t break away from Azzi.

“‘S good,” Paige voices and her eyes trail over Azzi’s face again settling on her lips that show smudged chapstick.

Azzi turns to face Paige. For once Paige doesn’t flinch away from her stare. Her eyes work up Azzi’s face and meet her eyes. Her eyes are big and intense with so many emotions flitting across them so quickly Paige can’t keep track. She can barely breathe.

“Azzi,” Paige starts though her words are unsure. She has no idea what she could say.

“Yeah,” Azzi’s voice is just as soft. Their bodies are close and Paige swears she can feel Azzi’s breath from that one word.

Paige sits in the silence a moment longer with no true plan of what to say, “you’re beautiful,” is what she settles on. Azzi’s smile grows into something soft and intimate. Something meant just for this moment. Just for Paige.

“Thank you, P,” Azzi’s face is only inches away and Paige swears she can’t breathe, “you are beautiful too. In a way that is so unfair,” Azzi explains.

Paige does nothing except lean further into Azzi’s space. Her breath waivers and comes out broken and unsteady.

“What are we doing?” she whispers as Azzi leans her forehead onto Paige’s.

“I have no idea,” Paige whispers, closing her eyes. They sit like this for a moment before Azzi is reaching out and grabbing Paige’s hand. She brushes her thumb over Paige’s knuckles.

Paige takes in the moment. She feels the way Azzi’s forehead is pressed against her and her hand is brushing over Paige’s. She feels their thighs still pressed firmly together. She lets out a shaky breath before pulling back.

“What’re we watching?” her voice is unsteady and she has to tear her eyes away from Azzi’s to face the tv. Azzi’s eyes flickers confusedly over Paige before she clears her throat.

“Uh, thought this sounded like something you might like,” Azzi’s voice is heavy and Paige nods.

Paige squeezes Azzi’s hand reassuringly, “it sounds great,” her voice not much more than a whisper.

Azzi’s eyes remain trained on Paige. She doesn’t move to start the show. Paige remains looking ahead but squeezes Azzi’s hand. Paige just gives her a moment to sit.

“Az,” Paige starts but doesn’t look back.

“You do this a lot, ya know?” Azzi’s voice is quiet and sad.

“Do what?” Paige’s voice is just as quiet.

“Every time I push forward, you pull back,” Azzi explains quietly. Paige sighs.

“Az,” Paige pauses, “you just broke up with someone today.” Paige offers vaguely and Azzi remains quiet.

After a moment she nods and turns to the tv. She starts the tv show but pays it zero mind. All she could do was focus on the hand she held and pulled into her lap. She focused on the fingers she played with.

Her voice was quiet, but her head was loud. Her head was filled with thoughts of the girl pressed into her side.

Please repost, like, and leave your feedback! Thank you!!! <33 -- tea ★’*•.¸♡

#pazzi fic #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic #uconn wbb fic #pazzi fics #tea writing femme fics #paige x azzi #wcbb fic #paige bueckers angst #pazzi angst #azzi fudd angst

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days ago

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𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 || 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 ||

A/n: Love this show but have never written anything for it.

Night shift. 3:47 a.m. The Pitt.

The ER was a war zone.

The shift was four hours into a mass casualty surge from a pile-up on the turnpike—glass, fire, metal, and blood. Triage beds lined the halls. The trauma bays were full. And Jack Abbott was in his element.

He barked out orders with machine-gun precision, covered in someone else’s blood, moving like he was back on the battlefield. Like if he stopped moving, something in him would detonate.

But then—he didn’t see you.

Not where you should be.

You were supposed to be behind the curtain with a stable patient, monitoring vitals and giving fluids. Instead, Jack spotted you across the room, crouched low over a gurney, pushing compressions on a coding teenager. Belly heavy under your scrubs. Sweat dripping down your brow. Defiant, wild-eyed, stubborn.

He saw it before anyone else did—

The falter.

The sway.

The way your lips went pale as paper.

“Hey—HEY!” he shouted, shoving through the crowd.

You stumbled.

You gripped the rail.

You collapsed against the wall, sliding down in a controlled heap, arms cradling your stomach like instinct had overridden everything else.

Chaos exploded around you.

But all Jack heard was nothing.

No monitors. No yelling.

Just a high-pitched ring in his ears and the rapid thunder of his own heart as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey, hey—breathe.” His hands found your face. One on your cheek, the other on your belly. “Talk to me—what’s happening?”

Your voice cracked. “Braxton-Hicks, I think—but it’s bad. They’re close—Jack—”

A contraction hit.

You curled into yourself and whimpered, breath hitching, and Jack’s chest nearly split open.

A nurse tried to get your chart. Someone shouted, “We need to move her!”

But Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He stared at the wetness on your scrubs, the way your hand trembled in his, and he heard it—something familiar. Something that clawed its way out of his memories and took hold of his throat like an enemy on the field.

Helplessness.

“Let me take her,” someone said—Dr. King said with wide, frightened eyes as she went to kneel beside you.

Jack’s jaw clenched. His voice was low, tight, and edged with panic he refused to show.

“No.”

“Jack—”

“I said no.” He snapped, lifting you gently into his arms. “I’ve got her.”

The on-call OB met them in trauma 3. It was quiet—an eerie contrast to the war outside.

You were lying on the bed now, wincing through another contraction. Jack stood stiffly at your side, arms folded like armor,jaw tight.

“They’re six minutes apart,” the OB said, “but baby’s heart rate is elevated. Stress response.”

“She’s been working non-stop,” Jack muttered, voice rough. “She shouldn’t have been on the floor—”

“I’m not made of glass,” you bit out.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m still a doctor.”

“You’re carrying my kid.”

The room went quiet.

You blinked at him, stunned by the sheer force behind his words. You swallowed thickly with a bead of sweat running down your temple.

Jack swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Or maybe he had?

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, breathing like he’d just run a mile. “I mean—our kid. I just—Christ, I—”

You reached out.

His fingers twitched—but then he took your hand, grounding himself.

“Jack,” you whispered, eyes full of fear now that the adrenaline was wearing off, “What if something’s wrong?”

His throat bobbed. Slowly, carefully, he stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed. One hand pressed to your swollen belly, palm wide and warm.

The OB handed him the fetal Doppler without a word and stepped out to give you privacy.

The wand buzzed to life.

And then—

There it was.

A steady thump-thump-thump like a tiny soldier marching through chaos.

Jack’s eyes closed.

He leaned down, forehead to your stomach, lips brushing the curve of your skin.

“Still with us,” he murmured, voice cracking. “Still fighting.”

You didn’t say anything. You just tangled your fingers in his hair and let your tears fall freely this time.

After a long silence, he sat back up and looked at you like the storm in him had finally passed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted. “I’ve lost a lot of things. But I couldn’t—you—” His voice broke again.

You pulled him in, letting him rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m here,” you whispered. “We’re both here.”

Outside, the ER kept spinning.

But for the first time, Jack Abbott didn’t feel the pull of the chaos.

Not when he had you.

And the heartbeat he’d fight like hell to protect.

Five days later. 2:09 a.m. / The Pitt — Labor & Delivery, Private Room B

It was storming outside.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Thunder cracked like artillery over the city, streaks of lightning flashing behind the blinds as the hospital groaned under the weight of the weather.

You’d been admitted hours ago.

Contractions were consistent. Steady. Unforgiving.

Jack hadn’t sat down since.

He stood like a sentinel at your bedside—hands on his hips, jaw locked, and he swore losing his leg was easier than this, as if daring the storm—or the pain—to take one more swing at you.

You were in the thick of it now. Breathing through another wave. Gasping, gritting your teeth, cursing the epidural that wore off faster than it should’ve.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” Jack said hoarsely, voice cracking. “You’re doing so damn good.”

You gave him a death glare. “Don’t call me sweetheart unless you’re the one pushing a human out of your body.”

“…Fair.”

The nurse barely smothered a laugh.

“Cervix is fully dilated,” the OB announced, snapping gloves on with alarming enthusiasm. “It’s go time.”

Jack didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

But his heart? You could feel it—thundering behind his ribs like he was back in combat, ducking mortar shells.

“Jack.” You reached out blindly, grabbing a fistful of his scrubs. “Don’t—don’t go quiet on me now.”

“I’m not,” he breathed, sinking to his knees beside you. “I’m right here.”

He kissed your knuckles like it was a promise. Like he was grounding himself with your pulse.

“On the next contraction,” the OB said, “I need you to push.”

The room narrowed to noise—beeping monitors, the dull roar of rain, the scrape of metal trays.

Then—

“Push!”

You screamed.

Jack’s hand gripped yours tight, forehead to yours, voice raw with helpless love. “That’s it, baby. You’ve got this. Come on—come on—just a little more—”

You sobbed. “I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, firm. Fierce. “You’ve survived worse than this. You’re the toughest goddamn woman I’ve ever known. Just one more push. One more.”

You closed your eyes.

Pushed with everything you had.

And then—The cry.

High-pitched. Startling. Pure.

Time stopped.

You collapsed back against the bed, gasping. Crying. Laughing. The nurse rushed to place the baby on your chest, and your arms shook as you cradled the tiny, screaming bundle.

Jack didn’t move.

He was still kneeling, eyes wide. Frozen.

Tears were in them. Real ones.

And then—quietly—he laughed. A low, broken, disbelieving sound.“…Holy shit.”

“Say hi to your kid,” you whispered, stroking the baby’s damp hair, voice wrecked and full of wonder. “We made that.”

Jack stood on shaky legs.

He reached out—just the tips of his fingers, brushing the baby’s cheek like it might vanish if he touched too much.

“She’s…” he whispered. “She’s perfect.”

“She?” you blinked, breath catching. “You didn’t want to know the gender.”

“I didn’t,” he murmured. “But I think I knew. Somehow.”

The nurse beamed. “Still want to cut the cord, Dad?”

Jack swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah—give me the scissors.”

He cut it with trembling hands.

The baby wailed louder, and he flinched—not from fear. From awe.

The OB stepped away. “She’s healthy. Good lungs. You both did amazing.”

Jack sat beside you. He stared at your daughter like she was both a miracle and a trigger.

“I’ve seen lives end,” he said, voice low. “Too many. But I’ve never seen one begin. Not like this.”

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Exhausted. Pale. Covered in dried sweat and surgical scrubs—but more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

“She’s gonna know everything good in you,” you whispered. “Even the parts you don’t think exist.”

Jack leaned in.

Kissed your temple.

Then kissed his daughter’s tiny fist.

“I’m gonna protect her,” he said quietly. “No matter what. Even from myself.”

You reached up, brushing tears off his cheek.

“She already has the best parts of both of us.”

He didn’t look up. Gaze still firmly locked on his daughter, no he just smiled, soft and wrecked.

“I think I finally found the one kind of chaos I don’t want to escape from.”

#drabbles #drabble #jack abott x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott #jack abbott x you #jack abbott x female reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you

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