#is this what love feels like a heart attack

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[bazpire]

Doing my own take on this.

The equinox. The most important holiday. For werewolves, at least. The moon was at it's highest, and the fresh air of the forest filled up the lungs of every living creature in it.

Willa sat, restless, in front of the table filled with her pack, or rather, her father's pack.

He cleared his throat, silencing everyone. She could see the spark in his eyes. Her father was drunk in power, way before drinking even a sip of wine, he loved being able to silence any room he entered in, he loved the intimidation and fear he caused in others.

He was a fucking sadist.

"As we all know, my dearest daughter is turning sixteen this month, my beautiful little pup." He looked at her, and Willa felt her heart, feral and wild, ramming against her ribcage, screaming for blood. She hated him.

She didn't hate him for his borderline dictatorship on the pack, or his sadism, or the way he looked at her as if she was a doll, a tool, a pretty little decoration he could move and control as he pleased.

She hated him because of the woman in front of her.

She hated the way he'd make her mom lower her head, make her smile disappear, make her flinch with every touch, she despised the way his eyes would look at her like a trophy, like a pray well hunted, like a meal meant to be devoured.

Willa looked up to her mother, who was already gazing at her, sending her a nice, soft, calming smile. That's the one she always had. She was relaxing, calming, she'd make Willa feel that everything would be okay, even when it wouldn't be.

That just cemented even more the decision she took.

"And that means that she's old enough to officially join the pack, so we can all welcome out new member." Vères finished his speech, with everyone giving an applause.

As he sat down, he widened his eyes and felt his blood freeze by his daughter's actions. She got up, still with everyone's attention, full of tension and palatable rage.

"And as an official member of the pack and the next in line as alpha, I believe my first action will be... to fucking kill you." She pushed the chair behind her until it fell, turning towards the other members. "I, Willa Domhnall, challenge the alpha of the Bahutan pack, Vères Domhnall, to a battle to death for the position of alpha of the pack and," this time she turned her head, looking into his eyes, deeply and unbroken "for the freedom of my mother, Adeena Zyanya."

The whispers and gasps filled her ears and made her blood boil.

Adeena's hand was over her mouth, a horrified look in her eyes, she was terried. What would happen now? How would her kidnapper/abuser/mate react? Was her daughter in danger? What was happening?

Vères started manically laughing.

"Oh, my darling puppy, you have a killer sense of humour."

"Not the only killer sense I have, father. Now get up." She spat back

"You- you must be kidding, dearest, why would you ever-"

"Shut up!" She interrupted him, slamming her hands into the table, making everything shake. "Are you really asking why? After all of these years of abuse, pain, suffering, torture-"

"I never laid my hands on you!"

"I'm not talking about me!" She shouted, making him flinch. Willa didn't even have it in herself to feel happy about it. "I'm talking about my mother. What? You think I don't know? You think I'm so fucking stupid that I wouldn't realise? All of these years... all of the wicked shit you'd do to her... well, not anymore, Vères. You made me, you gave me life, and now I'm going to take yours."

She straightened up, starting to grow, starting to change, starting to shift. She became bigger, so big that all of her clothes were ripped off, she was covered in fur, long sharp claws were visible in what once were her soft, delicate hands, now more like paws. Her face, now a snout, was dripping in drool spilling from her monstrous fangs.

She quickly attacked, barely giving her father time to change as well, as he growled and pushed her back.

"C'mon! Fight me, old man! You seemed very fucking tough when you were forcing my mother down into the floor to hurt her, weren't you? What? Can't handle someone your size?" She screamed, in a language that only her father, already shifted, could understand.

Adeena, the other members of the pack, and even the non-werewolf mates stepped back. The werewolves started to howl and growl and scream, and Adeena felt like she couldn't breathe.

Her daughter was going to be killed because of her.

"I never hurt you! Not a single time, I always treated you like a treasure! You were my precious, treasured pup!" Vères growled as he dodged he daughter's claws.

"I'm not your fucking pup! I never was!" Willa kicked him in the stomach, receiving a scratch on her face that made her whimper, but it was worth it to see her dad fly to the ground. "Since I was ten years old, I stopped seeing you as a pup or as a daughter. My eyes looked at you as a woman, and I hated what I saw." Her growls, her words were laced with venom, pure and utter hatred. Something ancient. Something that is hers, but isn't at the same time.

The hate in her eyes, Vères realised, was the same hate Adeena had the day he took her.

And he snapped, jumping on his daughter and trying to beat, scratch, bite her, anything to take her down. But Willa wouldn't go down. She was as free and feral as the forest itself.

Blood spilt all over the forest dirt, the wolves howling ringing on their ears, the screams of the mates fueling the fire.

Willa felt like she was about to explode, and Vères was ready to drop the match, but before anything could actually happen...

Willa felt something hot dripping on her face.

She looked up, her father was bleeding from his mouth, and looking down at her with a shocked expression. They both looked down, seeing a dagger sticking out of Véres' chest and slightly cutting Willa's.

He dropped to the side, letting her have a view on who had a hand on her survival.

Adeena.

She dropped the weapon, falling to her knees and bringing her daughter into a hug.

"You stupid, foolish little girl," she cried, holding Willa like she was going to disappear into the wind.

Willa slowly started to shift back, becoming smaller in her mother's embrace, limp, and in pain. "Mommy, what...?" She wanted to ask what happened, if she was okay, what was gonna happen now. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was the woman crying while holding her, the woman who gave life to her, the woman that had everything taken from her. Well, almost everything.

Willa hugged Adeena back, holding her so tightly she could've swore she heard something crack and pop, but her mom never even made an attempt to push her away, still sobbing her heart out. "It's okay, Mommy, it's okay. He's gone now. You're safe, and he will never hurt you again. I'll take care of you, I'll take care of everything, we'll be alright." She comforted.

I've been wanting to ramble about this so bad all day.

Yanderes who baby trap their darlings (especially when they're non-human or not fully human) are dumb.

Babes. You just created your own demise.

Sure! Maybe for the first couple years you've got what you wanted, you'll get a mini you/them and they'll be stuck with you.

But kids aren't stupid, they'll notice.

That little pup you forced upon your prey? Will notice the way you stare hungrily at their mother, and they'll smell their birth giver's fear.

Like, have you met children of fathers who were abusive to their mothers? They're incredibly protective, I have a friend who heard his father call his mother a bitch and sent him to the hospital. At 16.

I was deadly terrified of my dad, but he threw a plastic bottle at my mom (granted, it was accidental) and I bitch slapped him into next week.

And why do i say non-human yanderes are especially stupid? Because sure, the victim (be that a prey hybrid or a human) can not fight back. But the child can. They have it in their genes, the yandere's blood, the yandere's non-human-ness.

Once they're old enough, it's done.

Now I wanna see a platonic!yandere!werewolf!daughter against a yandere!werewolf!father.

[clare-875]

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, (even Jinbe or Chopper or Usopp whichever one you would prefer?) Comforts reader who was having a panic attack (like is remembering a dark childhood past or a past toxic relationship or something?) they hug her or hold her hand and telling her that everything would be alright.

We all could use a little comfort in our lives? 🥺

Dark Times (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Warnings: Toxic/Abusive Relationships, Abusive Childhood, Panic Attack, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Female Reader Notes: I hope this is what you had in mind <3 [One Piece Masterlist]

- Luffy - - -

(TW: Abusive Ex-Boyfriend)

You and your crew had finally arrived on a new island and were instantly excited about the prospect of being on solid ground. You had been wandering around with Luffy, who was enraptured in the markets that filled the streets. You could see some of your crewmates in the distance. Sanji bought from food vendors and fell at women's feet, Nami and Robin looked at clothes, and Zoro wondered in the wrong direction; the usual. You let the smile on your face linger, this crew meant everything to you.

"[y/n]!!"

Your gaze turns to your Captain and boyfriend who meets your eyes with a wide grin. He's holding an abundance of foods that you hoped he took the liberty to buy. "Come on, we have to try everything!" A laugh bubbles up within you as you watch him point to another food vendor, beckoning you to join him. His gaze goes from yours to the food, as he sprints a short distance away, and you shake your head going to follow him. However, lost in your thoughts you hadn't been paying attention to where you were walking and coincidentally bumped into a man who hadn't been paying attention either.

You instantly topple, losing your balance but are saved by the steady hands of the person you bumped into. You are about to apologise, but strange dread seeps in as a familiar scent fills your senses.

"Hey, sorry I didn't see you there-"

You hear the man speak, but your hands start to tremble, and suddenly his hands on your forearms feel like fire on your skin. Stop, it isn't him, you're safe. Your mind frantically tries to settle and ground itself, but your lungs contract and your heart beats faster. You gaze upwards meeting eyes with the stranger who now looks at your clear distress in concern.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He lets you go and you feel slightly lighter, but the scent of his collongue still remains and you know nothing can stop the dread. "I-" Your throat tightens, sweat lingering on your skin. Suddenly everything sounds muffled and your vision distorts. You faintly remember pulling away from the confused man, twisting through the many stalls surrounding you. You faintly remember the shapeless voices of people who look at you in confusion, pulling away from worried eyes.

It's all too much. Your breathing harshens.

When you break free of the markets, you slide down a wall of a building, the distant voices of crowding people lost in panic. You can't breathe. All you can think about is him; your ex. He who bought you years of torture. He who hit and cursed and berated you. He who made you feel worthless and terrified of even the dream of leaving. Your hands tremble as you make yourself smaller to keep out his distant words or the remembrance of his harsh touch.

You know that the man who bumped into you bore no resemblance to him, but the familiar scent ignited terror in your system. It was a life you left long ago, but it feels like your past has crept up onto you so suddenly that you were paralysed in trepidation. Hot tears now cascade down your cheeks as you try to frantically remember something as simple as taking in oxygen. Breathe. I can't. Breathe. I can't. I can't. I can't-

"[y/n]?!"

What reaches your muffled ears is the distant voice of the man you loved. He looks at your curled-up and panic-stricken state in shock.

"[y/n], what's wrong? What happened?!"

Luffy doesn't understand what is happening. All he sees is his partner, who had disappeared so suddenly, lost in dread and he didn't know why. No words come to him, but his heart rate quickens at the tears that pour down your face, your trembling hands, the tight grip you have on your arms. He is confused and he is angry. Had someone done something? Are you hurt? Luffy could see clearly your distress, but he needed answers; he needed to do something or know that you were okay.

"[y/n]-"

But you can't reply, you can't wretch yourself free from the panic in your system. "Luff-" You gasp out, and it prompts the raven-haired captain to come closer to you, but he hesitates. He feels his own panic because he doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know how to help you. "I- I'll go get Chopper-" Luffy's words break through to you, and your trembling hands react before he can pull away.

"N- no, Luffy-"

Your words are masked with an unfamiliar undertone that Luffy scarcely hears from you: fear. Luffy watches you clutch onto his shirt tightly, knuckles white as you try to ground yourself. He doesn't know what is happening, but he sees so clearly now that you need him. So, he does what he always does: he follows his instincts.

Warm arms pull you in so that your head is buried into his chest. He holds you tight and you are provided with the rhythm of his lungs that you try to match. Your heart rate slows briefly, as you take in his scent and his being. Luffy only holds you closer.

"It's okay, [y/n]. I'll protect you. You'll always be safe as long as you're with me."

Luffy might not know what had just happened to you, or what caused you to fall into your current state, but his words were somehow all you needed to hear. Hot tears of relief pour from your eyes as you nod into his chest in acknowledgement. He holds you to him until he's sure you're alright once more. He won't pry but he will listen when you need to talk, he will be there with you even if you don't wish to share your darker past. "You're safe."

He was all you could ever need.

- Sanji - - -

(TW: Emotionally/Physically Abusive Childhood)

Laughter brims as you look at the man who looks back at you fondly. You see Sanji's eyes widen at the sight of your smile aimed at him, and instantly the flush on his face deepens. You gently nudge him with your hip, holding out a hand for the plate he had just washed. "What is it?" You ask as you notice Sanji looking at you for quite some time. He turns to you in wonderment as he replies. "You're just too beautiful, love." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and your smile impossibly widens.

You wonder how you got so lucky as to call a man such as him your own.

You look away shyly as you dry the dish he passed you, repeating the rhythm you both had going. Sanji washing, you drying. Sanji loved the domesticity of it all, and he adored the smile you now try to hide from him even more. His heart beats faster, but the flirty atmosphere is lost when he hears his Captain calling to him. "Oi, Sanji! We need you out here for a second!" There is urgency in his tone, and so Sanji turns from the dishes and gives you a quick smile.

"I'll be right back."

You nod easily before he disappears beyond the door. You decide to continue as you await his return. You reach for another plate in one hand, a cloth in the other. You hum a tune as you go on, but because of your absent-mindedness, you underestimate the concentration necessary to complete your task. As you put down plates and reach for another, you mistakenly lose your grip on the dish in your hand and it slips from your fingers.

In an instant, it’s like your heart stops in your chest.

Your eyes widen, movements freezing as the sound of glass breaking fills the air. You look down, dumbfounded as you eye the mess you made. No. You start to panic. There is a voice in your head telling you that it would be okay, but there is a greater franticity that prevents you from reason. Your hands start to tremble as the sound of glass hitting the floor still echoes in your mind. It takes you back to a past you feel will always haunt you. It’s okay, he’s not like them. You try to convince yourself to breathe but there is no silence in their voices.

“[y/n]!! You little shit, you can’t do anything right!”

“You’re worthless!!”

“Hopeless!!”

“Get out!!”

No, Sanji wouldn’t.

In your state of pure panic, you can now scarcely breathe, the rhythm of your lungs lost in your terror. Your chest squeezes painfully and you find yourself falling to the floor reaching blindly for the glass that is scattered around. It’s a mistake as you feel a faint sting, knowing you’ve cut yourself. It only makes your panic worsen.

He’ll be back soon… He’ll hate me… He’ll yell at me. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t-

You start to lose yourself in the dread and you can no longer keep up with your rapid heart. Your breath comes in short increments and nausea fills you. Your trembling hands pull your legs close as the painful tightness in your throat worsens at every passing moment. Your thoughts are scattered and twisted in your mind. But the past you thought you moved on from had crept up onto you before you even heard the breaking of the glass.

The faces of your parents.

Of a father who didn't know how to love and so took out his rage on you and your mother. Your mother who saw the source of his hatred as you.

"You're a disgrace."

"This is all your fault!"

"I never wanted you for a daughter!"

You start to gasp out and you start to feel lightheaded from the trauma that now reverberates in your mind. Sanji would come back soon, and you couldn't do anything to clean the mess you made or put a bandage on your bloodied fingers.

What will he say? Will he be angry? Will he shout? Will he see just how worthless I am-

“[y/n]?”

You feel your heart jump harshly, cold sweat rising on your skin as you hear the startled voice of your boyfriend who has returned to the kitchen. Your breathing worsens, and your chest is tight with apprehension. You start to mumble incoherently between short breaths, but you refuse to meet his eyes.

"I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it- I’ll fix it-“

Your cries harshen and Sanji's heart clenches against his chest at your state; he knows the feeling.

"L-love, hey, love it's okay. Breathe."

He kneels down in front of you and his eyes widen at the sight of your hands, one of them is still bleeding from when you had tried to pick up the glass in your panic. Your hands still tremble and your lungs still squeeze painfully at the lack of air. You can't hear his words.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm sorry- I'll fix it- I'll be better-"

Sanji feels his own tears well in his eyes as he watches you lost in your mind. He moves before he can help himself. One hand reaches for your hands and he grasps it gently, despite you slightly flinching at the touch. The other hand pushes away hair that has fallen into your tear-stained face, low and hiding from him. His touch is what brings you back; his gentleness. You reach out for his shirt and he takes it as a sign to embrace you.

His hug is warm and comforting and all so familiar. You breathe in his familiar scent and relish the warmth in his skin that allows you to find the rhythm in your breaths once more. You listen to his quietly murmured words like they are all that pull you to the Earth.

"That's it, love. You're safe. You're okay."

As you bury your head deeper into Sanji's chest, he pushes his face into the crook of your neck so you don't see his own tears. How could someone do such a thing to you? The love of his love? The one he swears to protect from everything wrong in the world?

Your breath shudders and long moments pass before you find yourself free of your distraught and able to release your senses to the world again. "Sanji..." Your voice is a murmur but it only makes his heart clench even more. "Thank you." Sanji pulls you closer.

"Of course, love."

- Zoro - - -

(TW: Sexually Abusive, Manipulative Ex-Boyfriend)

You are travelling around the vicinity in search of drinks, not a care in the world. You were getting your boyfriend another bottle from Sanji after he had downed two quicker than you could blink. You smile softly at the thought of him. He was so different from all the men you found yourself with before. Yes, he seemed closed off and distant and quite honestly the last man you would think desired anything in the shape of love, but he had surprised you. Never did you hold even a glimmer of hope that the green-haired swordsman returned your growing feelings, and yet he did. He confessed to you many months ago and the rest was history.

You smile absentmindedly. How did you get so lucky?

Finally shaking free of your thoughts you spot Sanji in the distance, hoarding drinks you know he will willingly give you. You make your way over but are suddenly stopped unexpectedly.

A hand clutches your right arm.

"What-" You stop in surprise at the unfamiliar touch and your eyes travel upwards to the face of a stranger who looks at you in a way that makes you internally shudder. You feel your heart rate quicken, but you force yourself to calm down, glaring at the man in irritation.

"Can I help you?" You ask with a frown, but the stranger doesn't falter. The whole time you feel your chest clench despite your internal thoughts that it would be okay; you were strong, you had dealt with worse. But his reply is what sends you into a sudden spiral.

"You sure can, princess..."

Instantly, your brave facade falters and suddenly, there is untamed panic. Your mind fills with the remembrance of a time you thought you left long ago. You remember his hands, you remember his touch, his stench, his words.

"Come on princess, it'll be quick."

"After all I've done for you, you can't even help me with this princess?"

"Not everything's about you, princess."

You had screamed at him no, you didn't want what he offered you or what he forced you to comply with, and yet he had continued anyway.

His princess; his toy.

No. You wrench free from the man fear twisted on your face and you have no control over your emotions anymore. "N-no!" No no no no no. All you feel is him. You need to get away. Your chest squeezes tightly with the racing of your pulse and oxygen isn't a thing your body can hold anymore. Even the man who had just harassed you looks at you wide-eyed at your reaction but you can't see him. Everything becomes a blur, the very air is suffocating you. You need air. You need safety. You need...

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Zoro had been out of his seat the moment he eyed you in the distance with a man who dared lay hands on your skin. But now as his sharp eyes travel to you - his lifeline, his woman, the strongest person he knew of - crumbling because of this lowlife, he is fuelled with blind rage.

"What did you do?!"

He pushes you behind him, gentle but protective as he eyes the stranger with a wrath that could not be matched. His words are a yell that causes more eyes in your direction, and the shouting and the murmured whispers only make your panic worsen. Your apprehension is too much to bear and you feel the gazes on you like fire on your skin. Whilst Zoro unsheathes a sword you feel yourself shakily sinking to the ground. To your luck and everyone's utter surprise, it is Sanji who spots your obvious distress first and Sanji who gets Zoro to calm enough to see the damage that his brash words cause.

"Oi Marimo!"

He quickly makes his way to the swordsman, eyeing your distress with clear worry. Zoro basically snarls at the cook to get out of the way, but he pauses at his quiet words.

"[y/n]. You need to take [y/n]-san away from here. We'll take care of him. She needs you."

The chef's eyes flicker to your trembling form buried behind Zoro, concern flickering in his irises. Zoro follows the cook's eyes begrudgingly, but his gaze widens at the sight of hot tears running down your cheeks, your chest contracting erratically.

"[y/n]..."

Your eyes are glazed over, and Zoro knows instantly that despite everything, Sanji is right. Zoro turns from an enemy that Sanji all but kicks to oblivion. His hands are gentle as they reach for you but Zoro sees you flinch at the sudden contact. He feels his heart clench harsh against his chest at your reaction. He gently pulls you to your feet and holds you tight against him. He sees your tight grip that holds any fabric of his clothing. Out of the vicinity and into a more private area, he still holds you to him. It takes Zoro aback to see you trembling.

It's heartbreaking.

Finally in the open air, away from the crowds of people that surrounded you before, did you register his warm arms that hold you tightly to him. You hear his heartbeat strong beneath your ear and you try to match the rhythm of his breathing. Your knuckles are white with your grip on his shirt and Zoro doesn't know what else to do but continue holding you until you can breathe again.

"Zoro-"

Your words are barely above a whisper and they rasp in the absence of air just moments before. Zoro can't help but feel the relief that fills his system at seeing your eyes clear of the panic they bore. He gently turns you from his side but he doesn't let you out of his grasp. He pulls you instantly into his chest.

"Z-Zoro?"

Your words are quiet but they are now shrouded in surprise, the lasting tears fall from your eyes as you find yourself buried in his chest. You are shocked at his sudden embrace, but you do not know that it is because Zoro doesn't want you to see the clear pain he fights on his face. There is silence for a long while, but you let the quiet be. It is a nice change from the frantic pace of your dread. It is only when Zoro finds his rage and emotion subsiding enough for him to speak that he does so.

"You're safe with me [y/n]... don't forget that."

His deep voice softly fills your ears and you suddenly feel hot tears pouring from your eyes in relief. You were safe. He would protect you. You bury yourself deeper in his chest and nod.

He holds you tight like he would never let go.

[jasvtsc]

demon!dean x angel!reader.

tw! mentions of death, anxiety, blood, graphic language, manipulation, dean being an a-hole, corruption, grammar mistakes (ig)

word count! 2.1k

it was hard seeing dean in this state.

at first, you thought he was dead. you watched him die in your arms. then, you found out that he was a demon? and to make everything worse, no one wanted to tell you anything — they thought it was for the best.

why? you had no clue.

so, when they brought him in, back to the bunker, you almost got a heart attack. you wanted to scream, cry, throw up and do everything else that humans do when they’re overstimulated with emotions. however, your state of distressed euphoria didn’t last for long when the bad news came crashing down on you, making you hyperventilate and experience what was called a panic attack. while you were getting more human, your beloved was turning into his worst nightmare.

dean was a demon.

yeah, he indeed died a year prior, but because he was bearing the Mark Of Cain at that time, he was resurrected. and you weren’t exactly sure if you were happy about that.

sure, it was dean. he looked the same.

but it wasn’t your dean.

those green eyes, once full of love and adoration for you, now were as empty as the hole in your heart that his death left. whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see him — the soul once shattered but put back together by you. now, it was only darkness which consumed every tiny bit of light you tried so hard to put in him.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were sitting in the war room in your usual place — an armchair in the corner, right next to the cabinet stuffed with lore books and other things. nervously picking at your wings, you let the feathers drop to the ground as you stared with empty eyes at the wall in front of you. castiel and sam were discussing what to do with dean and how could they possibly save him — if the whole process was even reversible.

you had no idea how they managed to catch him in the first place and drag him back here — no one was telling you anything. you were as clueless as you could be, knowing only that the man you loved the most was now the creature of darkness you were taught to despise since the early stage of creation.

you didn’t get a chance to talk to him yet. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to. you only saw how they dragged his unconscious body to the basement and locked him up in there, chained to the chair in the middle of the anti-possession symbol.

as more and more feathers covered the wooden floor, the man and your angel brother noticed the state you were in. they looked at each other and then back at you. sam sighed and came closer, placing his hand on your shoulder. you shivered lightly and looked at the younger winchester.

“hey, listen, we think that we found something which can help bring dean back. but we can’t leave him alone here so—“ sam explained with a soft smile, and you could see that when he turned his head towards cas, he wanted him to continue. the angel widened his eyes and nodded.

“oh, yeah. we want you to stay with him,” as always, painfully straightforward.

“why me? can’t one of you stay?” because frankly, you didn’t want to face him. not yet.

“birdie, you’re—“ sam started, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t call me that,” you said with a stern voice, your tone almost threatening. it was what dean used to call you. no way you’d let this word slip from someone else’s mouth — it was reserved only for dean winchester.

“okay, fine, i won’t,” he raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as he felt like you were about to hit him with something. “it’s just… you’re in no shape to go outside at the moment. look what you’ve done to your wings—“

“what i do with them is my fucking business,” you hissed, and both of them were stunned. you just cursed.

they were looking at you in disbelief, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed with your little outburst. however, you weren’t going to apologize for your feelings — you had an absolute right to be upset and frustrated. so, shooting them both a cold glare, you left the room.

in the end, you were left alone with dean. it took you some time to mentally prepare for the confrontation. but eventually, you pulled your shit together and decided to go down to the basement.

carrying a tray with some food, you slowly opened the door and peeked inside. suddenly, you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and your mouth was dry as if you hadn’t seen a drop of water in days. you slowly walked out into the dim light, showing yourself to him after god knows how long.

and then, you heard it — a mocking, cold-hearted chuckle that echoed through the air.

“oh, now, who do we have here? my little birdie. i missed you so much, baby. did you miss me, too?” he asked with a cruel smirk, tilting his head to the side as he sized you up, his eyes flashing a pitch-black colour for a second.

for some reason, all the courage you built up in yourself vanished as soon as you made eye contact with him. he was scary. you never thought you’d admit it, but you were genuinely scared of the man who once used to hold you so dearly in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he placed small kisses on your temple. now, he had this darkness in his soul that made you want to hurl — your angelic nature physically declining being anywhere near such evil.

you tightened your fingers on the tray, looking around the room, thinking what you should do. you couldn’t free him from his restraints, but then again, he had to eat, somehow. because still, you cared about him. fuck, you still loved him.

“come on, birdie. you’re not even going to say hi to me? please, let me have a look at your pretty face. it’s been so long,” he cooed, suddenly putting on that soft voice you were so used to hearing. but then again, you could just sense the mockery and the dark intention behind his words. everything coming out of his mouth in this moment was insincere.

but was that enough to make you weak? yes.

because, oh god, even if it was just for your delusions and how naive you were, you just wanted him back. you wanted your dean back, and you were ready to pretend as long as it was needed.

so, slowly, you looked up at him, trying to hold back your tears as they dwelled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks.

dean smirked menacingly, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly white teeth, letting out a grunt as he bit his lower lip, slightly thrusting his hips forward and spreading his legs.

“there we go. my good little angel,” he taunted, eyeing you up and down with a predatory smile.

“what happened to you?” you asked meekly, your voice trembling as you swallowed a lump in your throat. you were sick to your stomach, and the smell of evil basically radiating from him didn’t help.

“me? nothing, birdie. it’s me, dean. your dean. your precious human, don’t you remember?” he tried acting clueless and innocent but quickly gave in to his demonic nature, letting out a cruel laugh as he threw his head back. “come on, don’t act so fucking dense. i’m a demon, now. you should’ve gathered that much by now. or did they not tell you? no wonder. you’re so fucking infantile that it’s just straight-up pathetic. you’re not a fucking kid. sure, you’re this cute, little, clueless angel. but come on, use your damn feathered brain sometimes,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

and holy shit, did that hurt.

you bit your lower lip, your eyes now obviously glossy when you let out a small sniffle. you just wanted to run and hide somewhere, away from him and his cruel insults. now, you were 100% sure.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were ready to leave the basement. you turned around and took a deep breath, but dean wouldn’t let you go so easily. as soon as he noticed that you wanted to escape, he used his soft voice. again.

“hey, hey, hey. birdie, i’m sorry. you know i didn’t mean that. it’s just—“ he grunted as if he was struggling. “it’s this demon in me. i can’t control it,” he started panting heavily, a smirk still on his face as you were turned with your back facing him. “birdie, please. you have to believe me. i would never hurt you.”

damn, did that work.

hearing him struggle and be in pain just cut at your heartstrings. quickly, you turned around with a panicked expression and stepped closer to him.

“dean?” you asked, your voice breaking as tears flooded your face, dropping from your chin onto his thighs. he nodded, putting on an act and using his most pathetic expression.

“it’s me, birdie. please, help me,” he almost choked on his words, his voice pained and hurting. “please, baby, you’re the only one i can count on.”

you knew you’d probably regret that later. but jesus, you were so gullible, and you loved him so much.

almost immediately, you freed him from his restraints, cupping his face and stroking his stubbled cheeks. he sighed and grabbed your wrists, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leaned into your touch. at this point, you were long gone.

“tell me what’s happening, dean. let me help you,” you whispered, carefully scanning his face, still clueless that all of it was just a scene.

“it hurts. baby, it hurts so badly,” he whimpered, squeezing your wrists tighter. hearing that only made you panic even more.

“where? tell me where, i’ll heal you,” you sobbed, your vision blurry because of your tears.

“you can’t. you can’t heal it,” he panted, closing his eyes shut and grunting in mock pain.

“what do you mean?” you widened your eyes. “why not?”

“there’s only one way you can help me,” and you were ready to do anything for him, your self-preservation instincts turned off instantly. with a nod, you encouraged him to continue. “birdie, i need your blood.”

and that was enough for you to freeze on the spot. your mouth went dry, and you exhaled a shaky breath. he needed your blood, which was probably the most sacred thing in the universe. angel blood was the rarest to get, and it had its power.

“h-how? why?” you stuttered, shaking your head as you tried to understand it. you didn’t know anything about angels helping someone with their blood. and you were scared of the possible consequences.

dean cursed in his head, trying his best not to frown and scoff. instead, he kept on with the pathetic act. he whimpered again and then grunted, leaning forward as he put his hand on his chest, pretending that he struggled to breathe.

“please. i- i can’t,” he groaned and then screamed in pain.

“okay, what do i do?” you asked, widening your eyes as even more panic flooding your system.

“feed it to me. please, birdie. let me drink your blood,” he begged and then, you acted purely on your feelings, throwing any remaining logical thought out the window.

without much further ado, you lifted one of your wings and took a single feather. you slit your wrist with the sharper end, and as the crimson liquid started dripping down your skin at high speed, you put it closer to his face.

dean closed his eyes and inhaled the metallic scent. it took him a lot of effort not to moan in pure pleasure and excitement. he licked his lips and then grabbed your hand, putting his mouth in your wrist and drinking your blood like a man starved. you gasped and scrunched your eyes, tilting your head away as he dug his teeth into your skin for a better grip.

you began to feel more and more lightheaded as he drank more and more of your blood. when you finally looked back at him, only then did you realize your mistake. his eyes were pitch black, and his mouth was covered in your blood. he pulled away and smiled sadistically, looking at you like a feral animal.

he pushed you onto the floor and chuckled darkly, looking around the room. he grabbed the feather you dropped and it practically rotted in his hand, turning into a dark blade-like object. you widened your eyes, crawling away from him as he started to walk towards you with a bloodthirsty smile. and then, only one word slipped from his blood-covered mouth.

“run.”

a/n: idea inspired by @angelicjackles !! lmk what you think, all feedback is very much appreciated:))

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @a1ecmcdowell @angelicp0etry @figthoughts @fitxgrld @hrtsoldierboy @10ava01

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 2 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

Sam’s words die in the back of her throat when she sees me and for a moment we just stare at each other.

It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and even though I would still recognize her anywhere, she’s changed a lot.

She’s no longer a troubled teenager who relies on drugs and petty crime to feel good. No, she’s all grown up now, like me, and despite her tired and worry filled eyes she looks healthy. She looks good in her green jacket and with her hair up in a claw clip.

A wave of bitterness washes over me and I have half a mind to turn back around and walk out of the room again.

She came back for Tara, but she didn’t come back for me when I needed her the most.

I know it’s unfair to compare the two situations, I wasn’t attacked by a psycho, but I did almost die along with my parents.

“Y/N.” Her voice is soft, unlike the last time I heard it when she screamed at me to stop calling her.

I swallow harshly and try to keep any emotions off my face. “Hello, Sam.”

The twins share a confused look, and Wes and Amber watch Tara to see how she’s reacting to this unexpected reunion.

“You’re hurt.” She gets up from my chair next to the bed and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Tara said you were stabbed saving her.” I nod and when she takes another step forward, I instinctively take a step back. She freezes and something like hurt flits across her face.

It makes my insides clench up because I never thought I’d ever be the reason for that look on her face, but then again, she’s hurt me so much in the past, I think stepping back because I don’t want to be hugged or touched by her seems like a normal reaction.

She goes to say something, her brown eyes soft and pleading, but then the door opens and in steps a guy I don’t recognize.

“Sam do you want anything from the— Oh, hello,” he smiles when he sees me, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Richie, Sam’s boyfriend.”

My heart drops. Boyfriend. Right.

I force myself not to look at Sam and shake his hand when he offers it to me. “Y/N. I’m. . .” Sam’s best friend? No, not anymore. “I’m Tara’s friend.”

His smile brightens and he says, “Ah yes, you’re the one who saved her, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quietly, shifting my arm in the sling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he continues. “What you did is very impressive. Not many people would have tackled a psychotic killer with a knife.”

My gaze darts to Sam for a split second. She’s sat back down next to Tara again, but her eyes haven’t left me. There’s now a guilty look on her face and when she realizes I’m looking at her, she quickly averts her eyes and buries her hands in her lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I snap. I acted because I knew if I didn’t, Tara would get killed. I didn’t do it to come off as braver or heroic, and something about being praised for it rubs me the wrong way.

Richie’s eyes widen and he quickly tries to back-pedal. “No, of course not. I understand. I’m just saying—“

I clench my jaw and lift a hand to stop him “Save it. I don’t care.”

Technically, he’s done nothing wrong, but I already don’t like him and it’s not because he’s Sam’s boyfriend. No, that’s not the reason. Not at all.

“Y/N!”

Oh hell no.

“What, Sam?” I ask, pinning her down with a challenging glare.

She flinches and frowns. I’ve never, never, talked to her like this before.

“I—“

She’s once again interrupted just like when Richie entered the room. This time, however, it’s by Amber who speaks up with a sheepish smile on her face. “Guys, Tara is really tired. Maybe we should give her some space.”

I stop glaring at Sam and look at Tara. She does look pretty tired. Her eyes are glassy and it looks like every breath she takes is exhausting.

The twins and Wes agree, leaving with Amber after Amber gives Tara a hug. Sam gets up as well, but Tara asks her to stay and since I promised I wouldn’t leave until Ghostface is caught, I stay as well.

Richie looks back and forth between Sam and me, now no longer oblivious to the tension, before taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

Of course he’s staying, too. For fuck’s sake. . .

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I ignore Sam who’s once again looking at me, and focus on Tara.

“Do you still have my inhaler?” she asks and I shake my head.

“No, I’m sorry. I dropped it in your driveway, but I can go and get it if you want,” I offer.

No matter what terms Sam and I are on, I know she won’t let anything happen to Tara if I’m not here, and if Tara wants me to go and get it, I’ll go.

Leaving will also give them a chance to catch up properly and while I’m out, I can go home and take a quick shower.

There’s still some dried blood in my hair that I want to get rid of and I’m itching to get out of the shirt the hospital gave me after they cut mine off me.

“Please. . .”

I smile reassuringly and squeeze Tara’s uninjured leg over the comforter. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” My face hardens and I look at Sam, shooting her a pointed look.

You better keep her safe. . .

She nods and straightens up a little. I turn and leave before she can try and start another conversation. On my way out, I spare one last glance at Richie who smiles tentatively and waves.

Moron.

Eleven years ago

I jump on my bed, face first, and groan into the pillow. Today’s been a long day.

I didn’t have school because we’re on winter break, but hockey practice is still being held and today’s practice was particularly long and grueling.

My dad even laughed at how tired I looked after picking me up, and my mom made sure I had an extra large serving of dinner.

Now, I just want to sleep. I’ve eaten and showered, and I’m too tired to watch a movie on my laptop like I normally would. So, I wiggle around in an attempt to get under the comforter without getting up.

A moment later though, I stop at the familiar sound of someone tapping on my window. There’s only one person who climbs the tree outside my window to sneak into my room.

“It’s open,” I mumble with a smile on my face. I don’t bother getting up, or even turning around because I know she’ll join me on the bed in a few seconds anyway.

The window slides open and there’s some shuffling before her feet land on my floor. She shuts the window again, and my smile widens because any moment now she’ll jump on the bed.

I wait, and wait, but nothing happens.

“Sam?”

No answer.

My smile dims and when I hear a sniffle, I frown. I finally turn around and the sight that greets me makes me curse myself for not turning around earlier.

Standing in the middle of my room in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants is Sam. She’s shivering and has goosebumps all over her body, but that’s not what concerns me the most. No, what concerns me the most are the tears that are streaming down her face.

“Sam?” Alarmed, I shuffle off the bed and cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

Her brown eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip quivers. Once again though, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey. . .” I return the hug and bring one hand up to the back of her head when she pushes her face against the side of my neck. “What’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it.

What going on? Did she have a fight with Tara, or her mom?

We continue hugging without saying anything, just basking in each other’s company until Sam starts shivering.

“Sammy,” I try to break our hug, but she whines and claws at my back to keep me close. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voices makes my heart hurt.

“But I do,” I argue softly, reaching behind me to unclasp her arms from around me. “Here, take this.” I take off my hoodie and slip it over her head. “There, much better.” I make sure it fits properly, un-bunching the bottom and fidgeting with the too-long sleeves before pulling her over to the bed.

She wordlessly slips under the covers and drags me down with her, cuddling up to me as soon as I’m within reach.

She stopped crying a while ago, but she’s obviously still feeling vulnerable, so I pull her closer and run my hand up and down her back.

This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in this position, but it feels different than any other times before. Something has changed and I have yet to find out what it is.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I open my eyes, it’s seven in the morning. I stretch and turn to maybe get some more sleep, but then I realize the bed next to me is empty.

“Sam?” I ask, but Sam is gone. The window is open and the spot next to me is still warm, so it can’t have been long since she left.

Present

I step out of the elevator and greet Deputy Vinson and a nurse who are chatting at the nurses’ station.

They nod and smile in greeting before getting back to their conversation, and I make my way to Tara’s room.

I feel much better now, having showered and changed into a new set of clothes. I took a cab from the hospital to Tara’s, grabbed her inhaler, and then drove my car back to my own apartment.

I also called Liam and Paige, updating them on the situation and telling them about Sam’s unexpected appearance.

They know how I felt about her in high school since the three of us have been friends since middle school. They offered to come to the hospital and act as a kind of buffer between Sam and me, but I obviously declined.

I’m more than capable of dealing with Sam’s presence, even if dealing with it is simply ignoring her or interacting with her as little as possible. She broke my heart a long time ago and even though I’d be lying if I said I was over it, I know it’s best to just stay away from her.

Someone rounding the corner and crashing into me at full speed rips me out of my thoughts. I stumble slightly and grasp at the wall to stop us from going down together.

“Hey! Watch where—“ Crap. So much for staying away.

My mouth snaps shut when I realize who ran into me, and then my eyes widen when I see the panicked look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

Sam clings to me and tries to push me back, away from where she just came from, and for a moment all the hurt, anger, and despair she’s caused is forgotten.

“Somebody tried to kill me in the break room!” she cries and without thinking, I wrap my arm that is not in the sling around her and pull her closer.

“What?!”

Our shouting alerts Deputy Vinson, who comes running over with his gun in hand.

“In the break room you say?” he asks, and Sam nods frantically. Without another word, he dashes off, gun raised and shoulders tense.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, breathless even though Sam’s the one who literally just fought off the killer. Her panicked eyes dart around the place, still sensing danger in every shadow, so I tighten my grip on her and repeat myself. “Sam, are you hurt?”

She finally looks at me and shakes her head, panting. “N-No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I look her over but she seems to be telling the truth because I can’t spot anything amiss except maybe her disheveled hair which is no longer in its claw clip. She’s also taken her jacket off and is now only wearing a white t shirt.

She nods again which causes a few strands of hair to fall in her face. I instinctively reach up and tuck a piece behind her ear only to freeze a heartbeat later when my knuckles brush against her cheek.

What am I doing?

Sam is frozen as well and her brown eyes are darting all over my face, a storm of emotions raging in their depths.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly, stepping back. It makes her hands drop off my chest and I hate how I miss the warmth of her palms through my sweater.

“Y/N. . .”

“Sam!” Richie comes rushing around the corner and when he spots us he’s quick to pull Sam into a hug. “Oh my God, are you okay? Deputy Vinson just told me what happened.”

“I— Yeah, I’m okay.” Sam eyes linger on me and for a moment an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers across her face. Then, however, she turns her attention to Richie and I look away when she lets him kiss her softly.

“Good. I was so worried,” he mumbles and if the kiss wasn’t too much for me already, his sickeningly sweet tone definitely is. I clench my jaw and brush past them, absolutely hating the hurt that settles on my chest and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Focus, Y/N. Tara needs you.

________________________________________________

This one’s a little bit shorter than the last, but I had to get some of the backstory stuff out of the way before the story picks up properly.

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list:

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony shook his head.  “It’s not.  I promise you that.  You want to blame me for making Ultron in the first place - fine.  But you didn’t do any of this.  You didn’t start this.  You didn’t put those twins in that situation.  All you did was try and clean up a mess that I was - at least partially - responsible for.  You aren’t to blame.”

He rubbed Clint’s leg.  “And you’re not useless.  You’re like the heart of the team.  But - if you want to pull back -” he shrugged and let a breath out through his nose.  “Honestly - I feel the same way.  I still love the tech and flying around.  But I don’t know - maybe I don’t need to be in the fights so much.  Maybe we can both take a step back.”  He took another breath as he processed what he’d just said.  He wasn’t even sure he could do something like that.  He felt addicted to it.  But maybe with remote controlled suits he could.

He sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair.  “I had a thought.  It’s just the start of one, but I think the Avengers need to move out of the city.  The tower has been attacked twice now.  Maybe if I build a facility upstate, we can make it more of an organization like SHIELD.  Have a bunch of agents working for us and the big hitters only go out on the end of world things.  I can make a bunch more Iron Legion so I’m not needed as much, and you know, with Wanda and Vision - maybe you and I won’t be need?”

“Yes, I know, I know,” he spoke and sighs softly. Even if they did do the right thing and what needed to be done, it would never repay the life’s that actually got lost. The innocent life’s that they had on their hands because they wherent quick enough or careful enough. He hated it.

He looked at Tony with teary eyes as he held his hands and shook his head. “It is my fault,” he spoke and shook his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m so useless with just my bow,” he spoke and sighs shaking his head again. “And he died protecting me because I couldn’t safe myself or the kid I was helping,” he said and sighs running one hand over his face.

“Maybe it’s time to retire,” he whispers and sighs.

[verstappenverse]

From P17 to You

Requested by anon: “Could you maybe write something about the win in Brazil?? I'd love to se something like friend to lovers, maybe even Max confessing he's got feelings for her 🥰”

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a legendary drive through the rain in Brazil Max realises that some things are worth risking, and this time he’s ready to risk it all.

Author’s note: Been working to get this out before Vegas so hopefully you're all still riding that Brazil high! Hope you enjoy anon 🫶🏼

1.9k words / Masterlist

The thunderous roar of the crowd echoed around the paddock, the energy still electric. You could barely keep up with Max as he wove through the sea of people, his hair damp, sticking to his forehead, his fireproofs and suit clinging to him like a second skin. He looked invincible—untouchable, even. The entire race had been nothing short of miraculous, the kind of drive that people would tell stories about for years. No one could quite believe what had just unfolded at Interlagos.

It was a win that would go down in history as one of the most legendary drives Formula 1 had ever seen. Starting from P17 and managing a breathtaking, near-miraculous climb to P1 in rain that hadn’t let up once, silencing every critic in one afternoon. Max had won against all odds, and not just won—he had dominated.

You’d been there, every lap, every heart-stopping turn, watching from the pit wall with your fingers practically digging into the table. When he finally crossed the line, pulling a lead that had almost made you laugh in disbelief the paddock erupted. And so did you.

Max Verstappen was a force to be reckoned with. You’d known him long enough to see that. From his early days in karting, to the whirlwind of his rise through Formula 1, and through it all the two of you had been inseparable. You were more than just friends - you were each others constant in a world that never stayed still.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears inside the motorhome. The team was in a frenzy of celebration, and you couldn’t wait to congratulate him. Finally, the doors swung open and Max appeared, drenched in champagne his eyes lighting up in that way that always seemed to make everything else fade into the background. He looked wild and alive, hair still wet and tousled, his suit clinging to him, adrenaline still pumping through him like an uncontained storm. His eyes caught yours almost instantly, softening from the adrenaline-fueled excitement to something more private, a kind of warmth he reserved just for you.

“There you are,” he said, his voice hoarse from exertion, he was laughing as he wiped his face. “Did you see that?” he asked, as if you might have somehow missed his generational drive.

“Max,” you said, breathless. “That was insane. You were incredible out there. I—I don’t even know what to say.”

He grinned, the same boyish grin you always loved. “I was just doing what I do best,” he teased.

In one swift movement, he pulled you into a tight hug. You could feel the dampness of his suit against your skin, but that wasn’t what made you shiver. You could feel his heartbeat thundering through his chest as he held you close, his hand lingering on the small of your back, and when he pulled back there was something in his eyes, a kind of restless energy that had you rooted to the spot.

You shove at his shoulder, “You’re unbelievable, Max. Do you have any idea how many heart attacks you gave me?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “What can I say? I don’t like to lose.”

There's an energy between you that you can’t quite shake off, a tension that’s lingered for months, maybe longer. The air feels thick between you, and your heart races as you search for something, anything, to say that will defuse this tension. Before you can one of the Red Bull crew sweeps him up again, pulling him back towards the crowd.

You spend the next hour caught up in the celebration, in the noise, the laughter, the congratulations that echo around the garage. The afterparty spills over into one of the hotels, with everyone recounting Max's drive from their own perspectives. The energy is high, and the drinks are flowing freely. Max, for his part, looks like he’s on top of the world surrounded by friends, his smile relaxed, his energy magnetic.

But you can’t help but notice the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, even as he laughs and talks with everyone else. Each time your eyes meet, there’s that pull, that spark that’s been simmering for what feels like forever.

Eventually he finds you, catching you by the arm and tugging you into a quieter corner of the party. The background noise dims and it’s just the two of you sitting together in the soft, golden glow of the dim light.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask, a grin teasing at your lips as you tilt your head to look at him.

Max chuckles, his eyes crinkling in that familiar way you’ve always loved. “Trying too. My adrenaline’s still through the roof.”

“You deserve it,” you say, and there’s no teasing in your tone this time—just sincerity.

He glances at you, his grin softening. “It’s been a crazy day…but it’s not just about the win you know?”

You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Max shrugs, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looks back at you. “I guess… I had something to prove today. To everyone. To myself.”

“Max…” You paused, unsure of where to go with that. “Today wasn’t about proving anything to anyone. You’ve already done that.”

“Yeah, maybe…but I- ” His voice was lower now, more serious, his gaze locked onto you. “I had to prove it to myself. And—” He hesitated, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were deciding how much to say. “And maybe to you, too.”

The intensity of his gaze made your heart pound as if you were the one who’d just raced through that rain-soaked track.

“Max, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I hope you know that." Your voice came out softer than you intended. “You mean more to me than you probably realise.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and your heart twisted with vulnerability. “You’ve always been completely yourself, Max. That’s what makes you… you. That’s why people love you. Why I—why I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you for a long moment, as if really trying to understand what you’d said. And then he took a deep breath, reaching out to brush his fingers against yours, tentative at first.

“You have no idea what it meant to me to see you there today. To know you were watching. That you’re always watching.”

“Of course, I’m always watching,” you say, swallowing hard. “You’re a lot more than just a driver Max. You’re… you’re my best friend.”

A flicker of something crossed his face, something you couldn’t quite read. “Best friend,” he echoed softly, as if tasting the words, considering them. There was a faint, bittersweet curve to his lips.

The quiet stretched between you, heavy with unsaid words. You were about to laugh it off, make a joke, say anything to fill the silence, but then he spoke again.

“I’ve never really thanked you for that. For everything.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me. You know I’d do anything for you.”

Max’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Maybe. But sometimes…” His voice faltered, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “Sometimes I think I should have said something earlier. Said thank you in a way that actually meant something.”

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his. “What do you mean?”

His hand moved to your waist, his touch now bold, yet gentle. “I think I’m saying this all wrong.” He let out a small, nervous laugh, his thumb brushing the sliver of exposed skin at your waist. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. You know, after the race. And I couldn’t focus on anything else. Just you.”

He looked down at you. “I didn’t want to tell you before because I thought it might mess things up. But… I’m done waiting.” he said, his voice lower. “I’ve tried to say it a hundred times, but every time, I just… I couldn’t.”

“Max, are you—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, his gaze intense. “I am. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but every time I thought I might, I… well, I was scared I’d lose you if it didn’t work out. But today, I thought if I can pull off something I thought was impossible, then maybe…maybe, I can tell you how I feel too.”

Max let out a low, almost frustrated laugh. “I think about you all the time, This—us. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. It’s always been you. I know we’re friends, best friends, and I never wanted to ruin that. But I… I think about you all the time. I can’t help it. And today made me realise that I don’t want to keep waiting. You’re worth taking the risk. I want more. I want everything…with you.”

The world seems to tilt. You’re left speechless, his words tumbling over you, breaking down every carefully built defence you’ve put up. And it feels terrifying, this openness, this risk, but it feels exhilarating too, like stepping off a cliff and hoping someone will be there to catch you.

So you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you reach for his hand. “Max… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” you admitted, your voice raw.

He lets out a slow breath, his expression shifting to one of pure relief, a grin spreading across his face. “So we’ve been two idiots, both waiting for the other to say something?”

You laugh, and it feels freeing, like a weight lifting off your shoulders. “Yeah, two idiots. But now we’re here so… what are we going to do about it?”

Max’s smirks, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. His lips brush against yours, soft and tentative, as if he is giving you one last chance to pull away. But you don't. Instead you lean into him, pouring every unspoken feeling, every hidden moment of longing into the kiss.

His hands are on you in an instant, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as his lips move against yours with an urgency that makes your head spin. Soft yet insistent, his hands framing your face. The kiss is slow and desperate, holding you like he can't bear to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and aching for more, Max leans his forehead against yours, his hands still resting on your waist.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

The space between you is still charged. “You’ve been waiting for me, huh?” you tease, your hand moving to rest on his chest,

Max’s gaze drops back to your lips, his chest rising and falling with each breath, “You have no idea.”

His hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. Your body feels like it's on fire as he kisses you harder

He pulls back again, just enough to look at you. “I can’t believe winning wasn’t even the best part of today,” he murmurs.

You laugh softly, running your fingers through his messy hair. “If you’re not careful Verstappen you’re going to make me fall in love with you.”

He smiles, that boyish, confident smile that always managed to knock the wind out of you. “Good. Because I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

[dubina-dawkins]

WINCHESTER'S PICKUP, INJURIES AND CLUMSY KISSES

~1k words

>you get hurt while hunting with your uncle, John Winchester and his son. Dean can't help but help.

pairing:teen! dean winchester x teen! reader

warnings/notes: basically a really tooth rotting fluff, first love and first kiss trope, vague descriptions of reader's past (like death of their family), few but subtle descriptions of injuries, john winchester mentioned (and i mean he's a real trigger so that's important), gn reader, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

Minnesota. A werewolf hunt. Ordinary case-- boring, in a way. Just had to catch the bastard and shoot it through the heart with silver.

It seemed normal even to you, even though you weren't even an adult yet. Had to grow up early, huh? God, you hated that phrase. It sounded like you were feeling sorry for yourself. And self-pity is weak, very weak! At least that's what your uncle, the hunter who raised you since your family died in a vampire attack taught you.

And besides, you and your uncle weren't alone on this case, but with "family friends" - the Winchesters. Were they considered family friends if every time John needed help hunting and Dean was busy, your youngest son, Sam, was left at your and your uncle's house? Hell if I know! But at least you got a good memory of that family. And the older son's face, his cocky grin, his brilliant green eyes, his perfect nose and distinct freckles...it was all getting to your throat.

But damn it, it had to be some old, abandoned house. Protruding nails, scattered things, wood that left splinters in fingers - it would be dangerous here, even in daylight, without the risk of having your heart eaten...and when there was that risk, every step was tense.

Especially when the "hunted object" - you tried not to think of them as people, or else it became too hard to hunt - had run right into your path. The rumble of falling things, the pop of missed shots. This werewolf was physically strong and dexterous, so it was hard.

Like when he threw you into the wall and some protruding, crooked, rusty nail pierced your shoulder. It's okay, we've been through worse injuries, you'd think. Until Dean ran up to you, completely ignoring his father's scolding.

"Hey, are you okay? Ooh..." He seemed to swear, but it was quiet, a whisper he didn't want his father to hear. Dean sharply threw your arm, whose shoulder wasn't injured, over his neck and lifted you up, not listening to any of your complaints about not needing help.

"Dad's gonna kill you- sshhiit..." You hissed as he pressed his shirt, previously hanging over his black T-shirt, against your shoulder, treating the wound. The fabric was soaked with whiskey.

Hearing your sounds of pain, Dean lifts his emerald eyes from your wound to your face. His gaze is piteous, concerned, and his thick lashes glisten in the moonlight.

He was too handsome. Objectively, of course.

"Like the first time I'm going to get a punch from him... All right?" He squeezes your healthy shoulder in the palm of his hand, then puts his hand on the collar of your t-shirt, and...stops. "I... Can you slip your arm out of your sleeve?"

All his arrogance evaporated, there wasn't a particle of it in the air. And it was cute.

"You want me to take my clothes off? Pervert," you laugh, but your face immediately frowns as you raise your arm. Dean doesn't waste a second and starts helping you.

And God, the touch of his somehow warm fingers - there was a cool breeze outside, by the way - send shivers down your spine, making you dizzy. But you don't think about it. At least you're trying.

A low whimper escaped your lips as he tightened a piece of cloth, torn from your shirt and soaked in alcohol, on your wound. Maybe it wasn't unusual, but it still hurt.

"You're gonna stay here, you hear me? There's no way in hell you're going to go fight that big guy again right now. I won't let you," Dean said, glancing outside his dad's pickup window. His dad and your uncle were still in the house with a werewolf, apparently. You two could have been alone...for a little while. But of course that didn't excite you at all. You and Dean were just friends, right? Hunting bros. Nothing more.

And the fact that your gaze fell to his lips, then to his cheeks, covered with freckles, sharp cheekbones, ash-black long lashes, brilliant green eyes.... It meant nothing. At all.

"Whatever you say, sir," you quipped, rubbing the wound under the piece of cloth with your hand. Dean just gently pulled your hand away, "Don't make it worse for yourself, buddy." And oh, his tone is so gravelly. You're absolutely done.

But he won't let go of your hand. And you don't want to pull away.

His green eyes came up to your face, and he suddenly just froze, as if he couldn't look away. Dean stared at you as if you were the most brilliant and expensive gem, as if you were a living angel he hadn't believed in for a long time.... Like something unearthly. It would be foolish not to admit that you looked at him the same way.

Dean squeezed your hand lightly, and slowly - yes, very unusual for Dean Winchester to do something slowly - moved closer, but in a friendly way for now. In the same second, however, he remembered who he was, and his hand went up to your neck - still tentatively, of course... "Listen, buddy-..."

"Dean, please..."

And that did it. Dean's one word was enough for him to press his lips lightly against yours. He wasn't pushy, he wasn't rough, he didn't even let himself try to deepen the kiss. His lips only phantomly touched yours, guiding you, somehow even mentoring you, gently (still unusual for Dean Winchester himself!). His lips were matte, a little dry, but damn it, you liked it better than the sweetest meals of your life.

He pulls back, takes a deep breath and leans into you again. You're so cooked.

Dean can't help but marvel at your ineptitude at kissing- God, he could have sworn it made it the best kiss of his life. His lips move hotter, feistier, more needy, but still tentative, dipping down a little to leave a few quick nibbles on your chin and on your jaw--

Until you start hearing John and your uncle's voices outside. Oh, God, not now!

"Sorry, baby, sorry-" the nickname slides off his tongue so tenderly, lovingly, as he quickly pulls moves away from you.

Because after today, the chance of Winchester allowing you to see Dean earlier than after few months was close to zero.

a/n: i needed to think about little dean that haven't experienced hell already (on s4 currently yaaay). young jensen on header only because i can't think of teen dean looking as original cast actor for this role. and because i love young jensen. like really much. think im starting to get a lil' bit too much obsessed with dean

[nosyrobin]

Hello👋

Can I request a TTG Robin x male reader where reader is speedy twin brother and and robin has a secret crush on reader and he know.

Whenever Robin and Speedy meet reader like to tease robin like some good pick up lines robin is trying to not blusing that hard.

Speedy like:Brother what the heck are u doing??? 🤨

If that ok?.Well feel free if you want to do it have a good day/night

-Blue sea🔵🌊

“QUICK CRUSH”

TTG!Robin x Twin of Speedy

Summary: Robin meeting the twin of speedy, Quiver makes him think that maybe a quick crush will pass. Only for the crush to grow and grow.

Speedy and Robin were in the main teen titans tower, relaxing even if they did fight over starfire before. Totally relaxing and nothing against each other, the two sidekicks were ranting about their teams before speedy had gotten a call from us cell phone.

“Eh, hold on bird brains. It’s my twin calling me.” He says, making Robin raise a brow. ‘A twin? He never told anyone or him about his twin…’ Robin thought as he just looks at the sporting channel. Speedy laughs and hangs up the call, putting his phone up as he looks at the tv. “He’s coming over, he’s bringing me some fish tacos if that’s okay with you.”Robin only shrugged, not really thinking about it since the sporting channel changed to gymnastics. As minutes pass, the elevator dinged. Bringing the attention of the two domino mask wearers.

When the door opens, Robin swore he heard angels sing when he met speedy’s twin. Yeah they’re twins, but you can obviously tell the difference between them in the outfits as you wore black and red with a black domino mask. Smirking holding up a bag of the suppose “fish tacos.” If Aqualad seen them now, he would’ve thrown up. Speedy smiled at his brother, hopping over the couch to greet him.

“Quiver! Man thanks for the tacos.” Speedy says going to you, daping up which you did back. “No problem man.” You smiled, looking to the side to see a black haired boy shyly peaking over the couch to look at you. You smirked, jumping over the couch and landing smoothly by the boy.

“Well don’t you make my heart quiver. What’s your name?” You said, holding a hand out towards the boy who seemed a “little” flustered at your quick pick up line. “I’m…I’m Robin. Yknow, like the sidekick of Batman.” He laughs nervously. Taking your hand as he keeps shaking it, he started to sweat along with his hand.

“Is it hot in here, was it always this hot here?” Robin said, using his other hand it pull at his collar of his hero costume. “I mean you’re hot too—” you raised a brow with a sneaky smirk. Making Robin immediately tweak out and run away screaming as speedy just sighs and smack you in the back of your head.

After that whole encounter with each other, you two always met up, making Robin kinda run away. He didn’t think he would be in-love with a guy really. Sure he was bi-curious. But damn were you attractive with your charms and your quick pick up lines.

Most encounter you two have is just you flirting with him as he tries so bad not to blush or show it’s getting to him. Meanwhile speedy was just like “bro, wtf are you doing?” Smacking the back of your head for flirting with the main leader of the titans. You were aware of his crush on you, it was damn obvious of how he checks you out. The small comments he thinks he can’t hear about how fit your body is.

He may has well have a gay panic attack when you were sweating, panting as you finish shooting down a foe that tried to sneak up behind him.

As these encounters and small conversations kept going. You got tired of this little cat and mouse game. Robin was doing a night patrol by himself in jump city, tired of his team not listening to him and mocking him. He sits against the edge of a roof of a building.

That’s when a red arrow shoots by him, making him jolt from it. He picks it up immediately recognizing it’s your arrow. You’re close. His cheeks start to heat up as he sees that there’s note to it.

“You shot an arrow to my heart birdy.” With a red heart having a red arrow through it. Robin immediately covered his face with his cape. Holding the note close to himself as you dropped down smirking. “Did I get you?” Robin jumps again, standing up to look at you with a still flustered look.

“Quiver! I— uh..” “cmon, I’m tired of playing as if we don’t want each other.” You said, walking to him. Robin felt frozen to his feet before feeling you pull him from the edge of the roof. His heart beating. His palming sweaty as well. He felt like he could throw up but couldn’t. You lean in, he leans in. As the two of you get ready to kiss.

A “ahem” ruins the moment. You curse under your breath. Lookin at speedy who shakes its head at you. “Cmon bro, you can play Romeo another night. Titans East needs us!” Speedy says, jumping from another roof. Waiting for you. You sighed, and Robin frowned. But that frown changed when you kissed him and left. Robin felt fireworks explode in his stomach as he put his hand to his lips. He watches you and your brother leave him there. Just smiling dumbly that you are definitely something that makes his heart quiver.

[dami-anne-damn]

CookieSized!Beast Cookies x HumanSized!Reader

Cuddling Head-cannons!

Shadow Milk Cookie:

He’s super into cuddling, but only when he wants too. Like, man is clingy in the same way a cat is.

He would totally want to crawl up the inside of your sleeve like a gremlin and curl up on your chest.

Speaking of chest, that’s his favorite place to snuggle up too, either that or your face. Specifically your cheek since he’s tiny. (He likes to be a presence you can’t ignore.)

If you love cuddles prepare to be absolutely smothered in them. He wants to be all you can focus on in this world, and allowing him to cling to you is an opportunity he just can’t pass up.

If you don’t like cuddles then you are fresh outta luck because he does not care. It doesn’t matter to him how large you are, or how intimidating you can be. He’s snuggled up to you and he’s comfortable. Plus… since when were you in charge?

Like, if you’re resting he’s all up in your business, IMMEDIATELY. If you try to push him away enough times, he’ll walk off in a fake huff talking about ‘diva(s)’. But once you finally fall asleep he’s right back where he wants to be.

Ironically enough if you try to cuddle up to him without his prompting, he’ll play hard to get. Might even bat your hand away too- (well, as much as a itty-bitty cookie his size can to a human).

When he’s cuddled up on your chest, sometimes he’ll worm his way up to your ear. He’ll begin to whisper things, things he couldn’t possibly know. Tidbits about your day you never told him, stuff that has yet to happen, knowledge on how to help you succeed in future endeavors. You are normally asleep by the time this advice comes, so why does he do this?

Is it the joy he feels knowing that he has all the answers you need and all the control to tell you only when you’re not listening? Or is it something else? Only he has the answer to that.

——————————————————

Mystic Flour Cookie:

She’s definitely not clingy, but she doesn’t mind it when you two cuddle.

I imagine since she’s the Beast of Apathy she is quite neutral about where she lays in accordance to you in bed. You could have her in your arms, your hands, heck probably even on the top of your head and she’d be ok with it.

She won’t admit this, but her favorite way to cuddle is with your head in her lap and her hand in your hair. Yes, you are still human sized. Also yes, she is still cookie sized. (You guys make it work though.)

Love cuddles or hate cuddles, she couldn’t care either way. Calm and composed, she decides when and when not to allow you to breach her personal space.

Although, if you do catch her off guard with a pick up and cuddle attack from behind. Even if she may not show it immediately, she doesn’t like when people just take what they want from her. Expect the cold shoulder.

On rare occasions, Mystic Flour can and will ask to be held. There’s something unusual about her tone, something more..alive.

When you have long since fallen asleep, she finds her hand stroking your hair absentmindedly. She then slowly lowers her body to lay against your head, all of HER own volition. For cuddling you was her choice, not your will. Hers.

——————————————————

Burning Spice Cookie:

Normally, I would never think that Burning Spice would go for cuddles. Too boring and stagnant for his tastes.

But if you did manage to get him to cuddle, you bet you had to earn that. And it wasn’t easy. So if you like fighting tooth and nail for the right to cuddle, then Burning Spice is your man!

Battle against him, he doesn’t care how large and fleshy you are. He wants a fight, he needs a fight. If you want to cuddle The Great Destroyer, then show him you can handle it! (This is an every night before bed thing too).

Finally you win—(because let’s be honest..he’s like what, 3 inches tall?) —and now you’ve earned the right to cuddle. Burning Spice’s favorite place to cuddle is right against your stomach or heart, things he can hear.

Sometimes during these sessions, you can catch a glimpse of Burning Spice’s face, it looks empty as he listens to your body work and breathe. You wonder whats going though his head.

But as soon as it’s there, it’s gone and is replaced with his usual scowl as he loudly exclaims how ‘bored’ he is with the current situation.

As I’ve already explained, if you want cuddles Burning Spice is definitely going to play hard to get. Much like Shadow Milk in that sense. But on another note, much like Mystic Flour he doesn’t care if he gets cuddles or not. (If anything he seems to project more no than yes. But if that’s really true, why does he still offer to fight you each night?)

——————————————————

Eternal Sugar Cookie:

Are you a couch potato with big emotions?! Do you like to cuddle?! Then maybe you should consider getting yourself an Eternal Sugar Cookie to keep you company!

They are a MASSIVE cuddle monster, (they might even be clinger than Shadow Milk in this sense) you’re like a big warm pillow! They are perched or nestled somewhere on you from 24/7 to eternity.

Their favorite place to cuddle is curled up on your neck. Wings draped over the sides of your shoulders in a sort of possessive hug. Feeling your pulse.

If you like cuddles Eternal Sugar is definitely a provider, and is pretty good at making you feel right at ease. I could imagine them curled up, tangled in your hair and lazily strumming at their lyre with droopy eyes.

Being the Beast of Sloth, I could see them using their power to perhaps make you feel a bit more lethargic than usual.

After a while with Eternal Sugar you might start missing your morning alarm, sleeping in, missing breakfast, lunch, maybe even dinner too…a couple days go by…wait, how long have you been sleeping for again?

——————————————————

Silent Salt Cookie:

Tbh, I see this cookie as very hit or miss when it comes to cuddle time. Either they’re all in on some nice quiet quality time or they want absolutely nothing to do with it.

If they are into it I could see them liking sleeping tangled up in your legs (keeps you from moving too much) or I could see them resting in your hands, especially if you sleep with them curled up to your face.

Don’t expect any kind of talk though, if you start yapping while you two are snuggled up close they’ll just end up getting up and walking away. It’s silence or nothing. (And if you talk in your sleep, just forget about it.)

If they are not in the mood for cuddles, don’t try and convince them. Begging and pleading will only serve to annoy this beast. You gotta let them come to you, like a stray cat you gotta earn the trust of before they come inside your home.

On the days you guys cuddle, if you stay really quiet and still, you can feel Silent Salt press into you almost longingly. Is it despair? Is it loneliness? Want, need? It’s impossible to tell which emotion the beast is feeling with that helmet on. All you can guess is that they are comfortable in the palms of your hands. That’s all that matters…right?

——————————————————

Fin and thank you for reading!

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter one: a blinding glimpse or the one you politely offered your heart to the king of curses in an attempt of mocking him.

warnings: ryomen sukuna, meet-cute (they're actively trying to kill eachother), hate to morbid curiosity, canon level of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, cannibalistic thoughts, hot villain covered in blood, sorcerers being clinically insane, satoru gojo cameo, fight style visual.

word count: [1.2K]

kill count: [0]

Observing it all from above, scarce stars battling with artificial lights to test his blurred vision, Sukuna realized he awakened in a distant era. One that overflow with life, he assumed.

He could hear it all. At every dark street and its endless crossroads kids would bid their farewells and run back home. Wind carried the hiss of kettles and brush of soles against old rugs. Sukuna reveled in the harmony reverberating inside each and every human blissfully unaware of the hungry void lurking above.

Offenses cowardly whispered, commands shouted, nauseating confessions. How many voices. So much unnecessary noise. Sukuna’s initial deduction was proven correct in a matter of seconds. Life overflows in every moldy corner. Surviving isn’t a concern in this brand-new world, and herds born for slaughter confuse not having a predator with having strength.

It truly is a perfect era to destroy, considering the reek of sorcerers nearby.

I was brought back, Sukuna rejoiced as the receptacle resisted his presence. To a world build to be torn apart, Sukuna laughed as an extravagant sorcerer dared use him as a training dummy. Nothing good will came out of this, Sukuna felt a shiver on his nape.

A thunder silenced the world. Wall after wall shattered as the impact of a lightning bolt threw Sukuna inside the building. Involved by a dense layer of dusty, Sukuna regained balance. Pearly white waves danced above his skin. The aftermath of sheer electricity.

It didn’t burn Sukuna. It didn’t hurt him at all. A basic and quick attack lacking cursed energy and strength. Sorcerers sunk to such a low level during his slumber? Pathetic, although not surprising or disappointing. He never expected them to become stronger.

A blink later and his arrogant smile oscillated. As the energy dissipated, it was all healed. Every wound and scratch. Broken ribs and cut lips. As good as new. In an instant, all the pain inflicted in his vessel disappeared. It definitely wasn’t his doing, since Sukuna haven’t decided if this maggot was worth his time.

“Don’t ruin another school,” wind carried a new voice towards Sukuna. One tender and hospitable. It reminded him of silk. “People will question it, and then Yaga will question us.”

“His brain only works against us”, Satoru whimpered, handing Megumi the bag with his future midnight snacks. “Not an ounce of trust on our good, flawless work. When did he ever let us be?”

Looking at his pout, you giggled. “And since when did we ever let him be?”

Sukuna followed after your voice. What an alluring conversation. Two sorcerers, half-complaining and half-laughing. No remnant of dread or fright. This night, no one that spoke carried the fear of someone challenging the King of Curses.

Feeling moonlight on his flesh once more, he finally saw who dared healing his vessel. And for a moment, all Sukuna could do was stare.

A pearly mist expanded with your every breath. As if haunted by a wraith, or perhaps surrounded by a still gathering storm. It shined so brightly, floating right above your skin, in an extreme contrast with the darkness of your cursed energy.

Sukuna was staring at your soul.

A shiver travelled down your nape as his gaze burned something within you. Tilting your head, you faced Ryomen Sukuna. The weight of his presence alone could make curses beg. Staring back into his red eyes, you smirked.

The double-edged long axe on your hands glistened as you imbued it with more cursed energy. Biting the tip of your tongue, a habit you never truly escaped from, you observed the ancient predator in front of you. It was time to hunt.

Crouching down on the ground, you supported your weight on your toes. A simple change of position. Enough to make stupid curses hesitate. Why crouch down while holding an axe? Why not go straight for the throat? Why put your strength on your knees when you need it on your torso?

You saw no confusion inside Sukuna’s eyes. Only amusement.

In a fluid motion, your body floated above his. The fabric of your yukata covered the wide arch of your arm. The edge of your axe came down, cutting the concrete bellow you even far away from the ground.

As you expected, Sukuna dodged it easily. By making a fuss with your robe, you forced Sukuna to move further away in order to obtain a better view of your movements. And he moved exactly where you knew Satoru would be.

“And I am the one destroying the school?” Hands inside his pockets, Satoru forced his presence upon Sukuna. You wondered who between you three flashed the most annoying grin. “That was on you.”

In the air, you three danced. Satoru and his surgically correct dodges. Sukuna’s incessant pace of physical attacks without breaking a sweat. You forcing them both to move higher in search of the upper hand. A perfect dissonance.

 “You told the kid to let him take control”, you remembered Satoru. “Everything is on you from now on.”

“How convenient for everyone else”, Satoru hissed. “And remind me who said fighting a special curse would make this day interesting? You manifested this.”

“I can take the blame if you pay the price”, you offered. Sneaking a glance at Megumi, you checked if he was safe down there. One of Sukuna’s black nails brushed against the sash around your waist. “I’ve been craving fish and-”

Hollow.

How to define inexistence properly? How to explain the palpable feeling of lacking something? The best you can do is summarize it to a single word: red. Your teary eyes, the energy growing between Satoru’s fingertips, the fist deep into your chest. Everything was burning red.

“Don’t look away from a fight”, Sukuna mocked you, tearing your chest open. There was a certain poison in his words. “And I thought you were promising.”

Crushing your heart between his fingers, blood gushed upon his lips. Sukuna laugh echoed in the midnight sky. How uncommon. Tender and hospitable. You taste just like how you sound.

If you had cried, Sukuna would be tempted to taste your tears. If you had fallen, Sukuna would enjoy the sight of a human turning into a puddle of organs and bones. If you had screamed, Sukuna would feed on your delirious rage.

But as your right hand closed around his wrist gently, Sukuna had no reaction.

“I appreciate the compliment, Sukuna-sama”, you smiled.

Grabbing your black hairpin, the golden opal gem on the end of it reflected moonlight directly into his eyes. Wind moved your hair, framing your face and carrying its perfume directly into his nostrils.

“You can have my heart.” Piercing the still beating organ, your smile turned into a cheeky grin. “I have no need for it anymore.”

 “Yuji”, Satoru called. And just like before, there was no remnant of dread or fright in his voice. “You can come back now.”

Staring into your menacing eyes, Sukuna felt his vessel taking control over the shared body. Licking his lips, he tasted you once more. Yuji Itadori regained consciousness to find himself with a heart in his hands and teeth dangerously close to it.

Fascinating, Sukuna admitted to himself. What an interesting era to ruin.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist | @mwalibrary @mwashelf

[majoryeager104]

You + me = three

Summary: Headcannons of Touya with a pregnant partner 🥹👍

Touya/Dabi x fem!reader

Warnings: language, and general wholesome behavior (these hc’s are my therapy atp)

Telling Touya you were pregnant was a worrisome task to say the least 

Because even though you both worked to be as emotionally available to each other as possible

This was a subject that you had no idea how he’d react to

Because pregnancy wasn’t something the two of you had talked about, even in your late night discussions of what you wanted your futures to look like, a child was never mentioned 

He knew that he was barely alive as it is

And I suppose he thought that the trauma his body had experienced would probably put the possibility of being a father out of his reach. 

he would be lying if he said that this saddened him, if only a little

Because even though he never mentioned having them

He thought about kids with you

A lot. 

Because currently he was in a relationship with the only person he’d want to start a family with

But as mentioned, he wasn’t really sure if that would be possible for him

So you’d bet that when you decided how you’d tell him

And you took him out for dinner at his favorite soba place

And those two momentous words left your mouth

He was beyond shocked. 

He’d stare at you for a long moment, his eyes drifting from yours to your belly, over and over again, while a wide smile spread across his face

“You serious?”

And when you’d confirm? It was like there was a light at the end of the long tunnel he’d been stuck in since the night he’d burned up

Something to look forward to, beyond the repercussions he’d wished upon his father

A family with you, something to go home to, hell, a home in general

Because he’d make it happen, now. No matter what. 

Because that light at the end of the tunnel, that glimpse of hope in the flames he’d been burning in for so long

Made him feel alive again. You, and the little one you currently carried, were his reason to exist. Beyond his revenge, beyond the dark clouds overhead

Because he now had the privilege to be a father

To do for you and your child what his father had never bothered to do with his own family 

To give to your child something he’d never received from Enji

Love. 

After he’d finally stopped grinning

And the two of you were walking back to your apartment 

He made sure that you wanted this, too

He wanted to be absolutely sure that you wanted this child

Especially if it would be with him

And dammit the smiling confirmation from you once again

Sent his heart soaring. 

He had to stop himself from smiling too much to make sure he didn’t pop his staples out. 

He was absolutely elated

He’d be such a great partner during the pregnancy 

He’d act annoyed when you woke him up for snacks

But secretly when he’d turn over to look at you when you nudged his shoulder and quietly requested it, he’d be on cloud nine just looking at you

Because just look at you 

His beautiful girl, and his future beautiful girl

Because he was secretly hoping for a daughter

The least he could do was go get you your chips from seven eleven

He’d constantly be rubbing your belly too

Like “holy shit there’s actually a baby in there? And it’s mine?”

Like I said, cloud nine. 

And the first kick? He was already cuddling you when it happened, so you best believe he felt it

If he could cry, he would have been 

Because that little kick cemented the entire thing for him

Like, this was it. This was gonna be the best thing in his life

And he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna be there for every second of it with you. 

So he decided taking revenge could wait

Because he was a father now, and had better priorities

This is one of my favorite songs and it reminds me of Touya often, but I found it through my favorite Attack on Titan animatic (here but spoiler warning if you haven’t finished the show), and the LYRICSSS 😭🙏

[beautification-tales]

The Wereslut

A tale of periodic transformation

Ginger's heart fluttered like a caffeinated butterfly as she approached Sam's door. She clutched the stack of anime DVDs to her chest, feeling their plastic cases dig into her skin. Her cheeks flushed a shade of red that could put a ripe tomato to shame. She had met Sam only a few months ago when he moved into the apartment next door. Tall, with a mop of chocolate-brown hair and a smile that could light up a room, he was the kind of guy she had always admired from afar. He was cool, athletic, and had a mysterious aura that she just couldn't resist.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the only sound the muffled thump of music from a distant apartment. Ginger took a deep breath and rapped her knuckles against the door. It swung open, revealing Sam in all his glory, dressed in a casual tee and sweatpants. His eyes widened in surprise, then a warm smile spread across his face. "Hey, Ginger! What's up?"

Her voice quivered slightly. "Hi Sam, I... I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch some anime with me?" She held out the DVDs like a peace offering. "I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought you might enjoy it."

Sam's smile grew as he looked over the titles of the top DVD. "Attack on Titan, huh?" He chuckled. "You're trying to convert me into a weeb, aren't you?"

Ginger's blush deepened. "Only if you want to be," she replied with a nervous laugh. "But I promise it's really good."

Sam's smile remained as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching the room behind him. "Actually, Ginger, I'm kind of in the middle of something." The words hit her like a brick wall. Her hopeful expression crumpled slightly, and she took a step back. "Oh, I see. That's okay. I just thought—"

But before she could finish her sentence, the sound of giggling and high heels clicking on the floor grew louder. A moment later, a beautiful brunette with a figure that could make any magazine cover jealous sailed into view, her arms laden with shopping bags. "Sammy!" she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You didn't tell me you had company!"

Sam's expression grew sheepish as he took in Ginger's downtrodden look. "Ginger, this is Tiffany," he said, his voice tight. "Tiff, this is my neighbor, Ginger."

Tiffany's eyes swept over Ginger's unassuming attire and the anime DVDs before her smile grew strained. "Hi there," she said, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. "Sam's told me all about your... hobby."

Ginger felt a sudden urge to shrink away, her excitement replaced by a sinking feeling of embarrassment. She had hoped, maybe even for a second, that Sam would see her in a different light, that maybe he'd want to share in her love of anime. But now, with Tiffany standing there, she realized how ridiculous she must look. "It's okay," she murmured, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into her voice. "Another time."

Tiffany's laughter was like a tinkling bell, but the sound grated on Ginger's nerves. "Oh, I don’t think so. Sam isn’t into geeky loser things.," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Sam’s eyes widened at Tiffany’s cruel comment. He took a step towards Ginger, his hand reaching out as if to apologize.

"Tiff, that's not nice," he admonished gently. “What it’s true isn’t babe? You don’t want to give this girl any false hope… right?” she said with a knowing smile, her voice as sweet as honey-laced venom.

Ginger's eyes filled with tears, and she took a shaky step back. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her cheeks burned as the words echoed through the hallway. The stack of DVDs grew slippery in her grip, and she fumbled to keep them together. "It's fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I should go."

Sam's hand hovered in the air, his expression torn between guilt and frustration. "Tiff, that's not—" he began, but she placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off with a look that was both seductive and commanding.

Ginger didn't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. She turned on her heel, her heart feeling as if it had been crushed under Tiffany's expensive stilettos. Tears blurred her vision as she hurried back to her apartment, the DVDs clattering against each other in her trembling grasp. She could feel the weight of Tiffany's gaze on her back, but she refused to look back. Once inside the sanctuary of her own four walls, she let the tears fall freely, her shoulders shaking with sobs that seemed to come from a place of pain she didn't know existed.

Her room was a testament to her love for anime: posters of her favorite characters adorned the walls, plushies lined the bed, and a bookshelf groaned under the weight of countless manga volumes. Normally, the sight of her collection brought her comfort, a reminder of the fantastical worlds she could escape to whenever reality became too much to bear. But now, as she stared at the poster of a fierce heroine holding a sword aloft, she felt nothing but a hollow ache.

Something in Ginger snapped as she screamed in pain. The sound echoed through her room, a cathartic release of the agony that had been building inside her. She took a deep breath and turned to face the poster of the heroine she had once admired. With trembling hands, she reached up and tore it from the wall. The paper ripped under her fingernails, sending a thrill of anger and adrenaline through her body. One by one, she yanked the posters down, each tear echoing her own shattered illusions.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, she stumbled out of her room and into the hallway, the DVDs scattered on the floor behind her. She needed air, needed to get away from the suffocating reality that was her life. Without bothering to change out of her sweatpants and oversized t-shirt, she grabbed her phone and keys and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

The cool evening breeze kissed her flushed cheeks, and she took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She quickly walked past Sam’s door and could hear his groans of pleasure, which grew louder as she approached the stairwell. Her steps slowed, and she leaned against the wall, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of her own mortification. Through the thin barrier, she could make out Tiffany's high-pitched giggles and the unmistakable sounds of passionate lovemaking.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat that had formed from her earlier exertion. Ginger felt like a fool for thinking that someone like Sam would ever be interested in someone like her. The geeky girl next door, with her unruly red hair and glasses, was no match for a goddess like Tiffany. She stumbled down the stairs, her eyes blinded by the tears, and pushed through the heavy front door of the apartment building.

The street outside was alive with the sounds of the city: cars honking, people laughing, and music playing from various windows. Ginger didn’t register any of it as she started walking, her legs moving on autopilot. She didn’t have a destination in mind, just a desperate need to put distance between herself and the apartment complex that now felt like a prison of humiliation. The sidewalk was a blur of concrete and shadow as she stumbled down the block, the neon lights of the nearby convenience store reflecting off the wet pavement.

Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, each memory of Sam and Tiffany’s encounter striking her like a bolt of lightning. She couldn’t shake the image of Tiffany’s smug smile, her words cutting through Ginger like a hot knife through butter. The pain was unbearable, a reminder of every time she had been dismissed or belittled because of her hobby, her looks, her very essence.

As Ginger walked, her eyes remained cast downward, avoiding the glances of passersby. The world felt too harsh, too cruel to face. The sidewalk grew crowded, and she felt the press of bodies around her, a stark contrast to the loneliness that engulfed her. Without warning, she collided with someone, her body bouncing off them like a pinball.

Ginger's eyes shot up to see a gorgeous brunette woman standing in front of her, dressed in a stylish outfit that screamed confidence. For a split second, she thought it was Tiffany, come to twist the knife even deeper. But the woman's eyes, a soft brown, were filled with concern rather than the malice she had just encountered. "Oh, I'm so sorry," the stranger said, her voice as sweet as it was sincere. "Are you okay?"

But Ginger was beyond okay. The anger that had been simmering inside her boiled over, and she took it out on this unsuspecting bystander. "What the hell is your problem, watch where you're going!" she snarled, pushing the woman away. The brunette staggered back, her eyes wide with shock.

“Umm excuse me?” The brunette woman’s eyes narrowed, the sweetness replaced by a hint of annoyance. “You’re the one who practically bulldozed into me!” Ginger’s heart was beating fast as she unleashed all of her pent up rage. “Fuck you bitch! Women like you think you can do anything you want! Why? Because you got blessed with big titties? So just get out of my fucking way you empty headed bimbo.”

The woman took a step closer, her expression morphing from anger to curiosity. "Bimbo?" she repeated, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "You've got quite the mouth on you, little girl. You know what they say about calling someone a bimbo, don't you?"

“What ?” Ginger sniffled, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. She hadn’t meant to let it all out like that, but the pain was too much. The stranger smiled as she whispered. “It takes one to know one.”

Before Ginger could respond, the brunette leaned in closer and licked the palm of her hand. It was a quick, almost imperceptible gesture, and Ginger’s eyes widened in shock. The woman’s tongue was warm and wet, leaving a strange tingle in its wake. She stepped back, trying to shake off the bizarre sensation, but the stranger’s gaze held her in place. Her eyes had changed, the pupils dilating to almost swallow the irises whole.

"By the power of the moon," the woman began, her voice low and hypnotic, "I bestow upon you a gift, a transformation." Her words were laced with a mysterious power that seemed to resonate through the very air around them. Ginger felt a strange energy coil around her, tightening like a noose with every syllable spoken.

Ginger’s hand burned with pain as a burn mark appeared where she was licked. “Ah what the fuck!” she yelped, staring at the hand in horror. The brunette’s smile grew wider, revealing her white teeth. “It’s a small price to pay for what’s to come,” she said cryptically. “I’m sure you’ll have so much fun…tomorrow.” The woman laughed as she walked away, leaving Ginger trembling with confusion and fear.

The cold evening air seemed to pierce through Ginger’s skin, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable chill run down her spine. Shivering, she turned and hurried back towards her apartment building, her legs moving faster than she thought possible. The sounds of Sam’s lovemaking had faded into the distance, and she was grateful for that small mercy. As she reached the safety of her own hallway, the chill grew stronger, and she could feel a strange energy pulsing through her veins, setting her nerves alight with anticipation.

Her trembling hand fumbled with the keys, and she finally managed to unlock the door, stumbling into the relative sanctuary of her apartment. The mess of DVDs and torn posters greeted her like a sad reflection of her shattered heart. She didn’t have the strength to clean up the mess or even change out of her tear-stained clothes. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed, the mattress welcoming her with a comforting sigh. Her hand throbbed where the brunette’s saliva had burned her, the pain a constant reminder of the bizarre encounter.

“Forget Tiffany. She’s a bitch and I love anime. I love you.” Sam said as he looked deeply into her eyes. Ginger felt a spark of hope flicker inside her chest. Could it be that he felt the same way? That he didn’t care what anyone else thought about her hobby? She took a tentative step closer to him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. Sam embraced her and kissed her deeply, his arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace. The passion between them grew stronger, and soon they were both lost in a whirlwind of desire.

But the dream shattered as abruptly as it had begun. The sound of knocking on her door yanked Ginger from her fantasy world, and she bolted upright in bed. The room was bathed in the cold light of dawn, the curtains fluttering gently in the breeze from her open window. Her heart raced, the remnants of her dream clinging to her like a stubborn fog.

Ginger frowned in disgust as she was covered in sweat. She reached down and felt that her panties were drenched. The dream had been so vivid, so real. But it was just that, a dream. A sad, sad dream that taunted her with the one thing she wanted most - Sam's acceptance and affection. She wiped her eyes, trying to scrub away the last traces of hope that had lingered from her slumber. The knocking grew more insistent, echoing through the silent apartment. She threw off the covers and stumbled towards the door, her legs feeling like jelly.

When she opened it, she was surprised to find Sam standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. "Hey, Gin," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Can I come in?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected to see him today, let alone this early in the morning. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. His presence filled the room, making it feel smaller and more intimate than it had just moments before. The smell of his cologne, faint but noticeable, tickled her nostrils and brought back memories of their awkward encounter in the hallway.

“Did.. Did you just wake up? I’m sorry if I woke you,” Sam said, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the mess from the night before. “Umm it’s ok it’s early.” Ginger responded trying to hide the mess. “You’re joking… right? It’s evening Ginger.” Sam said, a look of confusion crossing his face.

Ginger looked at the clock, it read 7:30 PM. “Oh my god, I totally lost track of time,” she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had been sleeping the whole day away. Yet her body still ached as if she had not rested enough. Sam looked at her with concern, his handsome features etched with a frown. “So I wanted to come over and apologize. Tiffany is kind of…”

“A bitch!” Ginger exclaimed, interrupting Sam before he could finish his sentence. “You don’t have to apologize for her, Sam. She’s not worth it.” The anger in her voice was palpable, but she couldn’t hold back the hurt that bled through her words. “Yeah well it won’t happen again.” Sam said, his voice tight with frustration.

“Oh really you’re not going to fuck her again?” Ginger couldn’t hold back her feelings. She felt bolder for some reasons as the ache stayed throughout her body. “Huh?” Sam looked surprised. “No, I meant what she said to you. It was wrong. She shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers for any signs of residual pain. Ginger felt the pain increase as she winced at his words. The anger and embarrassment from the encounter had not fully dissipated, and his apology was a salve that didn’t quite cover the wound.

“Hmmm let me guess you used that big fat cock to punish her and now she’ll be a good girl.” Ginger’s eyes widened as she surprised herself. She immediately looked down embarrassed at how explicit her words were. “Yeah… wait, how do you know this?” Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“Cmon Sam. The whole building could hear you two.” Ginger mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. She felt a strange mix of emotions, a cocktail of anger, embarrassment, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I’m not mad at you, I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Well I meant it. I would love to watch Attack on Titan with you.” Sam said, his voice gentle and sincere. Ginger's heart did a little dance in her chest. Could it be that he was actually interested? “No Sam, I think you’d rather watch me attack that cock!” Ginger’s mouth hung open, shocked at the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. It was as if the pain from the day had turned her into a completely different person, one that was not afraid to speak her mind.

Ginger could feel the pain increasing in her chest as she looked at Sam, unsure of what to say. “Whoa Ginger! Are you ok?” Sam asked, taking a step closer. The genuine concern in his voice was like a balm to her soul, soothing some of the raw anger she felt. It was like something else was in her itching to come out. “I… I’m sorry I don’t feel so great.”

Without warning, the memory of the brunette's spell crashed over her like a wave. She glanced outside, the curtains billowing in the evening breeze. The sun had set, and the moon was a silver sliver in the dark sky. The ache in her hand was now a pulsing throb, a reminder of the mysterious encounter. Her eyes grew wide with realization. “Yeah you look like you’re burning up.” Sam said as he placed his palm on her forehead. “Whoa you definitely have a fever! You’re hot!”

“About time you noticed me!” Ginger exclaimed, her voice laced with seduction. Sam stepped back, his eyes searching hers, his hand still hovering near her forehead. He had felt the heat, but now he could see it. Her eyes had changed, the green of her irises swirling with gold, a fiery dance that seemed to reflect the intensity of her emotions.

Ginger stepped away and shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I think you should go ah ah” Ginger grabbed her stomach as the pain was unbearable now. She felt a warmth spread through her body, starting from her hand and moving up her arm. Her heart raced as the heat grew stronger, and she could feel something happening to her. Her skin began to tingle, and she watched in horror as her nails grew longer, sharper, and a deep crimson color.

“Sam what’s happening to me?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she held out her hand for him to see. But instead of fear, Sam's eyes lit up with something akin to excitement. His gaze roamed over her body, and she felt a strange sensation, as if his eyes were physically caressing her. Her body responded to his gaze, her breasts growing heavier, her nipples hardening into points that pushed against the fabric of her shirt. She felt her body stretch and change, her curves becoming more pronounced, and her skin taking on an ethereal glow.

Her sweatpants grew tighter, the fabric straining against her expanding ass. She looked down to find that her buttocks had swelled to an impossible size, the material of her panties stretching to the point of transparency. It was as if she had been blessed with the voluptuousness of a goddess overnight, and the sight of her own transformation was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. The pain in her hand had spread throughout her body, but it had morphed into a pleasurable ache that made her want to moan with each movement.

Ginger's short hair grew longer with every passing second, cascading down her back in fiery waves. Her cheekbones sharpened, and her eyes grew brighter, the green now a mesmerizing emerald that seemed to sparkle in the dim light of her room. Her glasses slipped off her nose, no longer needed as her vision corrected itself. She watched in the mirror as her body continued to change, her arms and legs filling with a newfound strength and feminine muscle that rippled under her skin like living art.

“Ungh fuck this feels so good!” Ginger couldn’t believe the words that slipped from her lips as her body continued to change. Her skin tightened over her newfound muscles, the sensation a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The tingling grew more intense, moving down her spine and into her legs, making them longer and more powerful. She watched in the mirror as her thighs bulged and her calves grew defined, every muscle fiber standing out in sharp relief.

Her ears grew pointed and sensitive, picking up sounds she’d never noticed before. The distant hum of the city, the rustle of clothes as Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the unmistakable sound of his breathing growing heavier. She could feel his eyes on her, and it was as if they were caressing her skin, setting it alight with a burning need for his touch. Her nose twitched, and she caught a whiff of his arousal, the musky scent making her heart race even faster.

Her eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Sam's pants, and she felt a strange power surge through her. The room grew hotter, the air thick with the tension that crackled between them. Ginger’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, and she could feel a wetness growing between her legs, her panties now sticking to her swollen sex. She was aware of her own beauty in a way she never had been before, and she knew that Sam couldn’t resist her.

The smell of his desire was intoxicating, a heady aroma that seemed to fill the room. She took a step closer, her hips swaying in a way she had never allowed them to before. The pain in her hand had become a pulsing beat, matching the rhythm of her own heart. She reached out and took his hand, her eyes never leaving his, and led him to her bed. His eyes were wide with shock, but he followed her without protest, as if under a spell.

Ginger felt her own body responding to his touch, her skin growing more sensitive with every brush of his fingers. Her breasts heaved with every breath, the fabric of her shirt now stretched to its limits. She watched as his gaze followed the movement, his pupils dilating even further. She felt a smug satisfaction at the power she now wielded over him, a stark contrast to the helplessness she had felt just hours ago.

Sam's hand hovered over her chest, and she could feel the warmth of his palm even before he made contact. His breath hitched as he finally touched her, his thumb brushing over the peak of one breast. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her knees buckled slightly, and she leaned into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel exposed, yet somehow seen for the first time.

The air grew thick with their mingling scents, the sweetness of her arousal and the musk of his desire. Ginger could hear the rapid thud of Sam’s heart, the erratic beat matching the tempo of her own. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the warmth of his skin beckoning her closer. Every inch of her was alive with sensation, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

Her eyes locked onto Sam’s, and she could see the hunger in them, the need that mirrored her own. His hand trailed down her arm, the calluses on his fingers sending a delicious shiver up her spine. She watched his pupils dilate further, his gaze dropping to her mouth, and she knew he wanted to kiss her. To claim her. And she wanted it too, with a ferocity that surprised even herself.

The scent of his arousal grew stronger, filling her nostrils with a heady musk that made her core throb with need. She could hear the quickening of his breath, feel the heat radiating from his body as he stepped closer. It was intoxicating, a siren's call that she couldn’t resist. Her hand reached up to cradle his face, pulling him down to her, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum.

The moment their lips met, it was as if a dam had burst. The kiss was explosive, a conflagration of passion that consumed them both. Sam’s arms wrapped around her, his hands exploring her newfound curves with a desperate hunger that matched her own. Ginger’s skin was a canvas of sensation, each caress setting her alight with pleasure. Her body felt alive in a way it never had before, every nerve ending singing with a symphony of desire.

Her nose twitched again, the scent of his arousal now so potent it was almost overwhelming. It was a heady mix of musk and sweat, a pheromonal beacon that drew her closer. She could feel his cock, thick and hard, pressing against her stomach, demanding release. The ache in her hand had transformed into a throbbing need that traveled through her entire being, a hunger that could only be satiated by the taste of him.

Her tongue flicked out, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin as she traced the line of his jaw with a gentle nip. Sam groaned, the sound vibrating through her body, setting every nerve ending alight. His hands slid up her back, his strong, calloused fingers digging into her flesh. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious blend of pain and pleasure that had her arching into him, her breasts pushing against his chest.

Her heightened sense of smell picked up on the scent of his desire, a potent aphrodisiac that made her head spin. It was intoxicating, a siren's song that grew louder with every beat of her heart. She could feel the heat of his arousal through the fabric of their clothes, a testament to the power she had over him.

The sound of his breath grew more ragged, the air in the room seeming to thicken with every shallow intake. Ginger's own breathing matched his, as if they were two animals caught in the throes of an ancient mating dance. Her body responded to his proximity, her skin a live wire of sensation that begged for his touch.

Her eyes narrowed, her heightened vision taking in every detail of Sam's face. The way his pupils dilated with desire, the flush that spread from his cheeks to his neck, and the slight tremble of his bottom lip as she traced it with her teeth. She could smell his arousal, a potent scent that seemed to coat the very air they breathed. It was a heady mix of musk and sweat, a scent so primal it made her want to purr with need.

The fabric of Sam’s jeans grew damp as her hand brushed against the bulge in his pants, and she could feel his cock pulse with every beat of his heart. The sensation was exquisite, a silent communication that told her exactly what he wanted. She felt a thrill of power, a delicious sense of control that she had never felt before.

Her heightened hearing picked up the sound of his racing heart, the wetness of their kisses, and the faint rustle of their clothes as they moved together. The symphony of desire grew louder with every passing second, drowning out the world outside their bubble of passion. Ginger’s body was a maelstrom of sensation, her newfound strength and agility guiding her every move.

Her eyes, now a fiery gold, locked onto the pulsing vein in Sam’s neck, the lifeblood of his desire beckoning to her. She felt a hunger stir within her, a craving that was both terrifying and thrilling. Her fangs elongated, a reminder of the spell that had transformed her. She hadn’t noticed before, but now, they were all she could focus on.

Sam’s breath was hot against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, and she felt her body respond with a tremble. The pressure grew as his teeth scraped against her flesh, and she knew he could feel the pulse of her vein beneath. It was as if her body was begging for his bite, craving the connection that would seal their bond.

Her hand slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles before finding the button of his jeans. With a quick flick, she undid them, her hand sliding into his boxers to grasp his cock. It was hot and heavy in her palm, a testament to his desire for her. She stroked him gently at first, watching his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. His hands tightened on her hips, urging her closer.

Ginger felt a rush of power as she realized she had Sam exactly where she wanted him. She straddled his waist, her knees pressing into the soft mattress on either side of his hips. He was so big, so powerful, and yet she had him at her mercy. With a seductive smile, she guided him to her entrance, her wetness coating his shaft. The anticipation was unbearable, the ache in her core demanding release.

With one swift motion, she sank down onto him, her tight pussy enveloping his length. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural moan escaping his throat. The sensation of his hard cock inside her was unlike anything she’d ever felt. The pain from her transformation had given way to pleasure, and she reveled in the feeling of being filled by him.

Ginger’s body moved on instinct, her hips rocking back and forth in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. Sam’s hands were everywhere, gripping her ass, her hips, her breasts. He was lost in the moment, and she reveled in the power she had over him. Her newfound strength made every thrust feel more powerful, more intense, and she knew he could feel it too.

With each movement, she could feel the energy from the spell coursing through her, heightening her senses. The scent of their mingled arousal was intoxicating, making her want to devour him whole. Her fangs ached, and she knew the urge to bite was growing stronger. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the soft skin of his neck, feeling the pulse of his vein beneath her lips.

Sam's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them with a desperation that matched the rhythm of their hips. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn’t hold back the loud moan that escaped her. It echoed through the room, a sound that seemed to resonate in the very fabric of reality itself. His own moan grew deeper, his hands moving to her hips to help guide her movements.

With every moan, Ginger felt the power of the transformation coursing through her, fueling her desire and her need to claim Sam. Each stroke of his cock against her walls sent waves of pleasure through her, and she could feel herself getting closer to the edge. The room spun around her, the colors more vivid than she had ever seen them. She threw her head back, her moans growing louder, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to fill the entire space.

Her hips moved faster, her movements more erratic, as she chased the orgasm that was just out of reach. Sam’s grip on her tightened, his own breathing growing more ragged. She could feel his muscles tensing, his body preparing for his release. Ginger knew she had him, knew she had him under her spell. The thrill of it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

With a final, powerful thrust, she sank her teeth into his neck. Sam's body tensed, and a strangled cry of pleasure ripped from his throat. The taste of his blood was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a heady cocktail of life and passion that set her ablaze. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she came, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Her body convulsed around him, milking his cock with every pulse of her orgasm.

The room was alive with the sound of their mating, the wet slaps of their bodies coming together melding with their guttural moans. Ginger’s newfound strength allowed her to ride Sam with a fervor that bordered on the bestial, her hips moving in a frenetic dance that seemed to shake the very foundation of the apartment. His own cries grew louder as he matched her rhythm, his hands clutching at her ass, his nails digging into her flesh.

The scent of their union grew stronger, a potent mix of sweat and blood that seemed to feed the transformation. Ginger’s eyes never left Sam’s, the gold in her irises burning with an intensity that seemed almost supernatural. Her nails, now claws, scored lines down his back, leaving trails of crimson that stood out starkly against his pale skin. His own cries grew more desperate, his hips bucking up to meet hers, driving himself deeper inside her.

Ginger’s moans grew louder, filling the room with a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate through her very soul. She could feel the power of the spell building within her, each gasp and whimper a release of energy that seemed to fuel her further. Sam’s eyes widened with a mix of fear and desire as she took his face in her hands, pulling him closer.

With a final, desperate thrust, Sam climaxed, his body shuddering beneath her. His cock pulsed inside her, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her body. His blood flowed into her mouth, the metallic tang of it mixing with the sweetness of his release. Ginger swallowed greedily, the taste of him a powerful elixir that seemed to complete the transformation.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as the orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, the power of it stealing her breath away. Her body spasmed around him, her muscles tightening and releasing in an endless symphony of pleasure. They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and passion. Sam’s blood coated her tongue, and she felt a sense of satisfaction that was almost primal.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Ginger pulled away, her teeth retracting and her eyes returning to their usual emerald hue. She looked down at Sam, his body now limp and still beneath hers, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. His eyes fluttered open, and she watched as confusion clouded his gaze. She watched as he passed out on her bed.

Ginger awoke to the sound of her alarm. Her body felt sore in places she hadn't felt before, and she was momentarily disoriented. She sat up, her head swimming with memories of the night that had just passed. But as she looked down at herself, she realized that she was back in her plain, geeky body. Her breasts were no longer swollen, and the fiery red hair had retreated back to its usual mousy brown. The pain in her hand was gone, and she was once again bespectacled. It was as if the whole thing had been a dream.

But then she saw him—Sam, sprawled out on her bed, his shirt hiked up, revealing a trail of teeth marks and scratches on his back. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a cold shower. It hadn’t been a dream. Her heart raced as she took in the sight of him, his handsome face relaxed in sleep, the smell of sex still lingering in the air.

Ginger’s cheeks flushed as she recalled the feral passion of their encounter, the way she had claimed him, marked him as hers. Her eyes fell to the crimson mark on her hand, a stark reminder of the spell that had transformed her. The giggle that had bubbled up in her chest died in her throat, replaced by a low growl of desire that seemed to resonate through her very bones. It was a thrilling thought—every full moon, she’d become this all-powerful creature of beauty and passion, capable of ensnaring any man she chose.

[livelaughghoul]

Omg girl with honorary daddy I just meant all the hot elderlies that aren’t on the current grid but should defo be included. But ok here are my recommendations:

The current grid

+ Danny Ric ,Kimi Raikkonen, Sebastian Vettel, Mick Schumacher, Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg

Toto Wolf,

Peter Bonnington,

Daddy Stroll,

Fred Vasseur,

Adrian Newey 😭,

Helmut Marko 💀,

Christian Horner

And I think thar should be enough. I included some personal icks as well this should be so much fun

Here is my smash or pass for the current grid and members below, and my reasoning behind the answer. I hope you all know this is a judgment free zone, please…

Charles Leclerc: smash, but only because I feel like there is some sort of obligation to find this man incredibly attractive. Don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive in a conventional way, but he doesn’t necessarily do it for me.

Carlos Sainz: pass, but if it were his dad? Absolutely would smash this man’s dad. Honestly he’s too pretty for me, like I would ruin him and I don’t want that guilt.

Oscar Piastri: pass, only because I feel like we’re both way too introverted and it would just be weird. Plus I think seeing my hidden tattoos and piercings (I have my nipples and multiple genital piercings btw lol) would potentially give him a heart attack and I don’t want that heat.

Lando Norris: pass, honestly he does nothing for me. I’ve watched a few of Max’s streams (I actually like Max!) and I think mom friend mode would be activated and I’d just lecture him about taking care of himself because what the fuck do you mean you have the money to buy a car but not groceries? Are you dumb?

Max Verstappen: smash, but only because I find his attitude and general demeanor attractive, not necessarily him.

Sergio Perez: SMASH, SMASH, SMASH. No explanation needed.

Nico Hulkenberg: pass, he’s too pretty and honestly I would bad getting between the haasbands, like they’re end game for me.

Kevin Magnussen: ignore my answer above, because I’m absolutely smashing certified track terror Kevin.

Pierre Gasly: give me a few shots of tequila and I’ll smash, but otherwise it’s a pass.

Esteban Ocon: smash, he’s got a really nice voice and I love his accent specifically so like, it makes sense.

Alex Albon: pass, but only because I want the chance to see the animals on his apparent farm. Also let me pet your cats please and thank you.

Franco Colapinto: pass, I’m not a mother so it wouldn’t happen anyways. Also I feel like I’d end up in a similar situation to Lando where mom friend mode gets activated and im taking this grown man grocery shopping because what do you mean your fridge is fucking empty?

Logan Sargeant (yes I’m including him, fight me): pass, only because this is my literal son and I love him and want to protect him. I would die for him.

George Russell: smash, I could break this man and I think it would be fun.

Lewis Hamilton: smash, I think he could break me and it would be fun.

Fernando Alonso: SMASH, SO MUCH SMASHING MY DUDES. LIKE SO MUCH.

Lance Stroll: pass, again, he doesn’t do it for me but his dad certainly does.

Yuki Tsunoda: pass, he’s too just a little guy for me.

Liam Lawson: pass, I don’t like his attitude and I feel like I’d want to discuss why he feels the need to be so performative with how he presents himself and it would just be a lot.

Zhou Guanyu: pass, but only because I want to hang out with his cat and not him.

Valtteri Bottas: smash, feels natural and like it would be an experience nothing would be able to replicate, ever.

Daniel Ricciardo: SMASH, no hesitation. I love a slutty thigh tattoo. I’m a sucker for this man.

Kimi Raikkonen: yall know I’m smashing, this is obvious. I’m in love with this man.

Sebastian Vettel: I’m smashing, but I’m not super into it. I’m more here to talk about sustainability and figure out what I can do to assist. It’s not a fulfilling smash.

Mick Schumacher: he’s literally so pretty, like so pretty. I’m afraid it’s a pass though guy, like I think I would almost feel guilty?? Like he’s so pretty and I’m just a feral little swamp goblin?? It’s not fair.

Jenson Button: smashing, 100%. I feel like this needs no explanation.

Nico Rosberg: pass, but it’s like a really difficult pass.

Toto Wolff: fucking smash my dudes, like I am actively ruining my marriage at the chance to smash (this is a joke I love my husband very much). I’m beginning to realize there is a bit of theme in my answers…

Peter Bonnington: have you seen the size of this dudes chest? The size of his arms? Smash, I’d be crazy not to.

Daddy stroll: smash, absolutely. Honestly? Frothing at the mouth for him.

Fred Vasseur: NO ONE JUDGE ME. Smash, and I’m not proud of it.

Adrian Newey:….smash….swear to god yall better not judge me. He’s just really smart and I find that attractive!!

Helmut Marko: pass, but only because I’m pretty sure if he saw my nipple or clit piercings he would die and I don’t need that additional trauma, ya know?

Christian Horner: pass, he looks too squirrelly to me.

[woozisguitar]

happy fuckin' birthday

pairing: jihoon x reader (afab)

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive towards the end so MDNI, bad bad ideas

word count: 1.2k

a/n: happy birthday to my girlfriend, husband, princess, the real love of my life, lee jihoon. idk what id do without you, my loverboy. everyday im so grateful you and me exist in the same timeline. please always be happier than me <3 (lowercase intended and not beta)

the fast bustling and the faint smell of coffee, which once felt intimidating, now feels like home. it’s been 8 months since you were last here, and god, you missed this. the overseas project took longer than anticipated, but none of that matters now that you’re back with the one you love. you slowly make your way to the floor where his studio is, trying to be as lowkey as possible. see, the thing is, you were supposed to arrive a week later, but the project wrapped up early, and there was no reason for you to stay away from your lover on his birthday. cue a last-minute birthday surprise which only you and his manager knew about.

when the elevator opened on his studio floor, you came face to face with none other than kwon soonyoung. soonyoung is a close friend, but you knew his hyperactivity would give away your plans in a second.

“yn, what are you—”

“shhhhhhhhhhh!” you shushed soonyoung, pulling him into the elevator and pressing the button to the top floor.

“dude, what the hell are you doing back so early?”

“jihoon’s birthday. the project wrapped up, and there was no reason for me to miss it,” you explained and saw a smile creeping up on your friend’s face.

“so, i’m guessing he doesn’t know?”

“nope. i planned this so last minute i’m not even sure if he’s free today.”

“he’s free. working as usual,” soonyoung rolled his eyes, “but i think i have an idea.”

“uh-oh.”

“so your great idea was to tell everyone except jihoon that i’m here? way to keep things lowkey, soonie,” you rolled your eyes, trying to figure out which idea would involve all 12 of jihoon’s members and his manager.

“nooo,” he dragged out the 'o', “the great idea is that we will distract him and sneak you into the studio where you can hide. then, once we leave, you can surprise him!”

“or give him a heart attack and an early death, which would be one hell of a birthday gift,” seungkwan commented, side-eyeing soonyoung.

“well, do you have a better idea?” seungkwan slowly shook his head no. “that’s what i thought. anyways, yn, trust me—he will like this.”

you gave his idea a second thought. well, it’s not like you had something better in mind anyway.

“god, this better work, soonyoung, or i’ll have your head.”

so the idea was indeed stupid.

the plan was that jihoon’s manager would first enter the studio to discuss next week’s schedule, and once he gave you a thumbs-up, the members would all file in and ‘discuss the latest album.’ 12 men filing in to talk at the same time about the same thing? totally not suspicious.

but somehow, this was the best bet you had. so now you were outside the universe factory with the members, waiting for jihoon’s manager to give a thumbs-up. after what felt like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), his manager emerged and gave a subtle thumbs-up.

this was truly starting to feel more and more stupid as the plan progressed.

“everyone ready?” whispered mingyu, and the others nodded in confirmation. slowly, they all started to file in, and you heard them greet jihoon. once all of them were inside, you slowly peeped in to see them form a subtle wall between jihoon and the back of the couch where you were planning to hide.

slowly, you crept in, crouching low and making your way toward the back of the couch. you heard the boys discuss concepts and styles they wanted to try out for the new album. from this angle, it looked like jihoon was undergoing an intervention, and you stifled a small giggle at the mental image. after making sure you were hidden properly behind the couch, you slowly peeked out from the side to see jihoon between jun’s and dino’s legs.

god, he looks so pretty, were your first thoughts. it had been 8 months since you last saw him in person, felt his touch, and kissed his lips. you wanted nothing more than for this plan to be over so you could kiss your boyfriend. you slid back into your hiding spot and texted soonyoung that you were in place. you heard his phone buzz and received a thumbs-up in response.

the members slowly started to wrap up their ‘discussion’ and leave the studio after making some kind of excuse. if jihoon noticed their weird behavior, he sure as hell didn’t comment on it. once all the members left, you slowly peeked out again to see jihoon turned to his computer with his headphones in place. you could hear the loud bass from his headphones and made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

you crawled from your hiding spot toward jihoon’s chair. from your position, you saw seokmin, soonyoung, and seungkwan hiding behind a partially obstructive door, phones already recording. you quietly rose to your feet, making sure not to touch anything that could alert him to your presence. you leaned down and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“happy birthday, baby.”

jihoon jumped from his chair, arms raised to fight whoever broke in. his sudden movement shook you off balance, and you grabbed his now discarded chair to stabilize yourself.

“calm down—it’s me!” you exclaimed, giggling at his confused face.

“y/n,” jihoon blinked, lowering his hands, “what..? i don’t...?”

you heard booseoksoon giggling outside and yelled at them to leave you two alone. once you heard the door click shut, you got closer to jihoon, pressing another kiss to his nose.

“yes, y/n, you dork.”

“you’re here.”

“mhm.”

“you’re actually here? i’m not, like, hallucinating or anything, right?” jihoon blinked, trying to figure out what was happening, making you giggle.

“yes, yes, i’m actually here.”

upon hearing this, jihoon grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be back next week.”

“well, you see,” you hugged him tighter, “i finished the project early and had a lovely guy waiting for me on the other side of the world. and i wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.”

“you did this all for me?” he breathed out.

“of course. who else would i do this for?”

jihoon shook his head, falling back into his chair and dragging you to straddle him.

“god, i fucking missed you,” he said, pulling you in for a heated kiss.

all the months of missing, yearning, and longing manifested in desperate kisses shared between the two of you. you slid your fingers into his hair while his found home in the curve of your waist, pulling you into him. jihoon slid his tongue into your mouth while you started to slowly grind yourself against him. he let out a moan, prompting you to keep grinding, feeling yourself heat at the core. jihoon’s moans grew louder as you felt him harden below you.

“wait,” you pulled back breathless, “not yet.”

“mhmm..?” jihoon made a confused sound at the lack of contact. his eyes were blown with desire, and his fingers held you close, almost as if he were worried you’d disappear.

“i want to give you your first birthday present,” you smirked mischievously, getting off his lap and kneeling in front of him.

“what are you...oh.”

jihoon leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. “well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

and after a series of birthday ‘gifts,’ it was indeed a happy birthday.

a/n: heh sorry for teasing but I really do wish 100000/10 that jihoon gets the best birthday head he deserves one so bad (I volunteer as tribute-)

[tbyfandoms]

Heart to Heart | Clay Beresford x Reader

Pairing: clay beresford x f!doctor!reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Summary: after crossing paths and connecting with new york’s most well known businessman, you end up in a whirlwind situation that’ll change your life forever

Warnings: reader is a heart transplant recipient, descriptions of heart transplant procedures and the healing process, mentions of overdosing and death of a mother, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: clay beresford, my angel bb! I was literally so excited when I got this request. I’m so absolutely obsessed with the awake movie and I think hayden did such a good job as clay. I literally need all the content for my little nyc golden retriever lmao! I really like how this turned out and I hope ya’ll do too. thank you sm to the person who requested this! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

Sterile.

That’s the only word you can ever come up with to describe the feeling of walking into the hospital each day. The white tiles, the bright lights, the almost burning scent of alcohol; it’s all so much to take in but somehow it also gives you a sense of peace.

Every time you come in through those doors it’s like a fresh start. No matter what happened the day before, no matter the heartbreaks or victories, the moment you step inside it’s another chance at new opportunities. It’s one of the reasons you love working here so much, love doing what you do. There are a lot of uncertainties in your line of work, but there are some risks worth taking.

Rounding the corner you start going over what you need to do today. Residency has been a whirlwind of an experience and every day is different from the last, but over the past few months since you’ve been at this hospital, you’ve started to get somewhat of a routine down. At least when you start your day it’s kind of the same every time, giving you a moment of normalcy until the real fun begins.

Changing into your scrubs in the locker room, you nearly jump as one of your coworkers, Jill, comes up beside you.

“Hey!” She squeaks, a gleam in her eyes you know all too well. She’s definitely up to something.

“Jesus, stop doing that to me! You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” you grumble. Shutting your locker you sit on the bench to change into your comfortable work shoes. They’re not the prettiest but they do wonders for your back and feet during these long shifts you endure.

“Sorry! But you’ll never guess who I just saw walk in with Dr. Harper.”

“Who?” You inquire—Jill’s giddy smile and shifty eyes beginning to freak you out.

“Clay Beresford,” she whispers, moving closer to you on the bench to ensure no one else can hear. Not like anyone would considering the two of you are the only people in the locker room.

“Really?” The name isn’t at all unfamiliar. If you live in this city, you know who Clay Beresford is, or his name at the very least. The man owns half the city at this point, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he owned all of it by the time he hit 30. All inherited from his father and even from his own doing too. You’ve seen a bit about him here and there in the papers and on the news. It surprises you how young he is and yet he’s already accomplished so much. It’s inspiring to put it plainly, especially considering how much good he’s done for the underprivileged.

It doesn’t surprise you Jill’s seen Clay here. When you started working at this hospital the gossip was everywhere. You couldn’t chat with a coworker without Clay Beresford being brought up. Apparently he has a bad heart and suffered a massive heart attack not long before you started. It was clear to you then that he didn’t have much time left without a transplant, and that was a while ago. You’re surprised he hasn’t been able to receive one yet considering his status, but amongst the whispers you were able to piece together that his blood type is rare and thus the transplant waiting game began. You’re unfortunately more familiar with that game than you’d like to be—having had your own heart transplant just a few short years ago.

No pun intended but your heart aches for Clay. You know that fear and anxiety he must be facing isn’t easy. The wait for a transplant is brutal enough as it is, but dealing with that is only half the battle. The road to recovery is a long and painful one and you just hope he has the support he’ll need once he does have the surgery. You’re not sure why your mind wanders to thoughts like that when you think of Clay, maybe it’s the transplant sympathizer in you, but there’s also just a part of you that feels like the Beresford heir is so much more than the media and other people make him out to be.

It’s sad, really, when you think about it. In reality Clay’s just like any other person trying to keep on living and get healthy, yet he’s talked about around the hospital as if HIPPA doesn’t exist. Sure he has money and power—as much as a man in New York could have—but that doesn’t change the fact he’s just a 20-something year old guy fighting for his life. You just wish more people saw it that way and wished him well instead of questioning what’s gonna happen to his company if he doesn’t make it out alive.

“-and I mean ohmygod I only saw him for a split second but I swear he is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even realized Jill has been going off on a tangent about her encounter with Clay.

“Wait, so did you talk to him?” Your eyebrows knit together as you look over at your friend, suddenly needing her to go back several steps in her story.

“No, I told you when I saw him walking down the hall with Dr. Harper I said hello to Doctor and that was it. I couldn’t exactly blurt out Clay’s name like I knew him. If I had I mean hello, stalker much?” You try to bite back your smirk, wanting to tell her that’s exactly what this whole conversation paints her out to be, but you let it go. Jill is always one for the dramatics. “But I did look at him as I was passing by and he smiled at me and nodded and honestly after that I’d say I’m pretty content with life now.”

Giggling, you shake your head. “You’re somethin’ else you know that, Jill?”

“Awh, c’mon! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t just die to have a conversation with Clay Beresford,” Jill teases, poking you softly in the side to try and egg you on. You swat her hand away playfully and roll your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s royalty. Sure he’s attractive and rich but so are a lot of men, some not so favorable.”

“Okay but he might as well be! He’s about as close as you can get to royalty in New York! And that’s the point, he’s not part of those not so favorable men. He seems like a really great guy! I know you think so too, I’ve heard your thoughts on him before. It’s good to have guys like him having a hand in what goes on in this city. God knows we need the help.”

“You got all of that out of a smile and a nod?” This time it’s Jill’s turn to roll her eyes and the two of you laugh lightly as you get up from your spots on the bench.

“Whatever, I’m just saying! You’ll understand where I’m coming from when you meet him in person.”

Reaching for the door handle you look back at Jill. “I doubt that’ll ever happen. I can’t think of one instance where he and I will ever end up in the same room together.”

“It’s possible, I mean look at me! I was just walking down the hall ready to come get you and there he was in all his glory,” she smiles. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into him yet considering all the times he’s here. I know he’s always with Harper when he is here and you’re not usually on his service, but still. I’m also surprised Harper hasn’t introduced the two of you considering your history. You could probably give Clay some tips, you know.”

Turning the thought over in your head you realize that’s not actually a bad observation or idea. “You know you’re actually right. I do have first hand experience with that stuff…but I mean so does Dr. Harper. Sure he’s never experienced a transplant personally but he’s performed them countless times. He probably knows better than me everything that goes along with getting a new heart. I’m just a resident, what could I really help Clay with?”

Jill hums, a sign that means she’s not giving up. “There’s nothing better than talking to someone who’s actually gone through what they have. Respectfully, Dr. Harper can tell Clay all he wants about the process but you’ve actually lived it. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you happened across him and were able to at least ease his mind if nothing else. Transplants are scary and dangerous, especially heart ones, but you’re proof they actually work and that he has a fighting chance.”

Glancing at your coworker you can see it in her eyes she’s being sincere. Sure Jill likes to joke a lot and is more unserious than not half the time, but she does have her moments and you’ve certainly found yourself in one. It warms your heart that she actually thinks you could be of any help to fellow transplant recipients, even if this whole conversation only started because of the fact she’s attracted to a patient.

“Thanks, Jill. Look I promise if I happen to see Clay Beresford I’ll make sure to give him all my expert advice on dealing with a heart transplant.” Saying it out loud kind of sounds ridiculous to you, still not believing the idea you’d ever even have a chance to talk to the businessman. But it seems to be enough for the woman beside you because in an instant she’s excitedly clapping her hands.

“Goodie! Now, let’s get serious.” Grabbing onto your arm as the two of you continue walking, she leans her head closer to yours—reminding you of when you were both in the locker room. “Do you think Clay has a girlfriend?”

And she’s back.

*****

After parting ways with Jill, you find yourself wandering the halls. A patient had asked you for directions and you took it upon yourself to just lead them to where they needed to go, finding it much easier to do instead of trying to explain it. Sometimes you swear you still get lost around here too.

You’ve ended up a long ways away from where you need to be so you’re quickly trying to find the easiest way back. You don’t have much to do right now but you’d still rather be closer to your assigned doctor for the day in case something comes up. Anything can happen and you want to be accessible if help is needed. You’re eager to learn any and all new skills whenever you can, plus you have a feeling it helps when doctors are deciding who gets to join in on surgeries, which—if you’re being honest—is the goal.

Turning the corner, you cut through the hallway where some of the operating rooms are. You’ve found yourself here countless of times in the past few months, either helping out with low-risk surgeries or merely observing. It gives you a rush in the moment, makes your heart beat a little faster, and although you know super high stress and a rapid heartbeat isn’t the best for you and your condition—it makes you feel alive. The rush and the heavy thumps of your heart remind you of all you’ve been through, all you’ve survived, and it makes you even more grateful to still be here. Grateful to still be able to go out there and help people just like you’ve always wanted.

Smiling at the thought, you quicken your steps, eager to get back to work and see what the day has in store for you. Though before you get much further, you look off to the side and see a doctor rapidly approaching you. It’s Dr. Puttnam, one of the doctors that works closely with Dr. Harper.

You’ve worked on his service a few times before but each time you were itching to get away. There’s just something about him you find a little off. Part of it is probably the way he so easily cracks jokes in the operating room while cutting open a patient and how he seems so cocky with everything he does. It’s like there’s this missing piece of humanity in him, he gives you the impression he only cares about himself and you constantly find yourself wanting to roll your eyes in his presence. You and Jill have talked about him before and she feels the same way you do—if not stronger. The two of you always tease each other when one of you unfortunately gets put on his service, and as he approaches you you pray he’s not here to tell you today’s one of those instances. That’d really put a damper on your mood right now.

“Y/N! Glad to run into you. Hey, do me a favor and let Dr. Harper know to saddle up. Riordan’s cabbage is in the ICU bleedin’. He took off for the fuckin’ vineyard so we gotta get in there. Harper’s supposedly in one of the operating rooms so just find him and let him know I’ll be waiting, thanks!”

You don’t even get a chance to respond because in an instant he’s back to rushing down the hallway. See this is exactly why you don’t like him. Who talks like that about another patient? It’s like taking care of people is a chore for him…as if it’s not his job.

Ugh.

Trying to not let it get to you, you take a peek in the operating room closest to you. You can see Dr. Harper through the window and can tell he’s talking to someone but you can’t see who it is. You’re pretty sure he didn’t have any surgeries this morning so you’re confused on why he’s even inside. You shrug and push on the door, feeling the weight of it as it slides open.

When you walk in you catch the tail-end of Harper’s conversation. “You might not have much of it left, okay?”

Your eyes cut from the doctor to the figure that moves on the operating table. As you step further into the room you nearly trip over your feet as you stop dead in your tracks. Laying on the operating table, forearms holding up the top half of his body, and staring straight at you, is Clay Beresford himself.

Oh my god?

For some reason you figured Clay would’ve been gone by now. Sure you knew he was with Dr. Harper, but considering his job you just assumed it’d be quick. You never thought in a million years you’d walk in on him laying on an operating table fully clothed and apparently discussing something serious with Dr. Harper. It’s strange but you’re also intrigued.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! How can I help you?” Harper’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you pray the heat you feel flush through your body isn’t visible as you finally look away from the blonde just a few feet in front of you.

“Dr. Harper, I-I’m sorry to interrupt! I didn’t know you were with a…” Words fail you as your eyes flit to Clay once again, taking note of the soft smile adorned on his face. Finally the word you’re looking for comes to mind and you shift your focus back onto Harper. “Patient.”

“It’s quite alright, we were just finishing up.” Harper turns to Clay and from the tone of his voice and look on his face, you get the feeling you actually were interrupting. “Was there something you needed, Y/N?”

Before you can dive too deep into the possibilities of what it is Dr. Harper was talking to Clay about, you remind yourself of the actual reason you walked in here. “Yes! Sorry! Dr. Puttnam stopped me in the hall and told me there’s a bit of a-uh emergency?” Going over Puttnam’s words in your head you try to piece together a more respectful version of them. “Dr. Riordan’s patient is apparently bleeding out and he’s away on vacation so Dr. Puttnam said it’s up to the both of you to treat the patient now. It seemed urgent and he said he wants you to meet up with him in the ICU right away.”

A flash of shock crosses Dr. Harper’s face as he takes in your words and you can see him start to revert to hyperdrive-as most doctors do with news like this. “Oh I see, alright, thank you for letting me know.”

Harper places a hand on Clay’s shoulder and you take this moment to do a once over of the businessman as his attention is being drawn elsewhere. He’s wearing a grey suit that is of course fitted to perfection and he’s got some leather shoes (that you’re sure are worth more than your rent) to match.

It’s funny, you would think that considering his well-kept appearance and cookie cutter styling, the Beresford heir would be oozing the feeling of wealth and prestige. But instead all you see as you look at him sat on that operating table, looking up into the serious eyes of his doctor, is apprehension and uncertainty wrapped up in expensive packaging.

Clay may have practically all the money in the world and an empire of a business backing him, but it’s clear in the unspoken message passing between him and Dr. Harper that there’s a lot more involved than what the public knows. It’s apparent to you, just like you thought earlier, that there’s more to Clay Beresford than just his money and pretty face, that he too has things—people—he’s scared of losing.

You can’t help the downward dip in the corner of your lips as you think about it all, as you think about how you were in his exact same position not that long ago.

“I have to go,” Harper says as he steps away from Clay, but suddenly he stops and you watch as his gaze flutters back and forth between you and the blonde. A thought seems to occur to him and you swear you can see a smile start to form on his face. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot you two have never met before. I don’t know why I didn’t think to introduce you sooner. Y/N, this is Clay, he’s a patient of mine that’s awaiting a heart transplant. Clay, this is Y/N, she’s a resident here and is actually a heart transplant recipient herself.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Where is Jill and how in the hell did she speak this into existence?

Before you get the chance to actually process the fact you’re being personally introduced to Clay, you watch as the man of the hour sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take a step forward and grasp it in your own, giving his hand a light shake as he nods his head and smiles up at you from his seat on the table.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says.

“You as well, Clay.” A beat passes between the two of you just looking at each other and it’s in this instance you notice how blue Clay’s eyes are. They’re pale blue—like the sky—and you find yourself hoping that a cloud never passes through them.

God, get it together, Y/N.

Letting go of Clay’s hand, you take a step back and put some distance between you. The pictures of him on the news and in the paper so do not do him justice. You take a second to remind yourself Clay’s still a patient of this hospital and, yeah, you’re still an employee of it too. Oops?

“Remember what I said, Clay. No regrets. The clock’s ticking,” Harper says as he walks backwards towards the door. As he faces forward and grabs onto the handle, he stops and turns towards you both again. “You know, Y/N, while you’re here maybe you can give Clay a little advice and insight on the importance and weight of this surgery? Have a little…heart to heart, if you will.”

The doctor smiles at you both before he disappears through the door, leaving you and Clay alone in the operating room.

As the door softly closes, you swear you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. For being a bustling hospital it sure is quiet out there…

“So, you’re a heart transplant recipient?” Clay breaks the silence first and you’re grateful for it. You’re not sure what you would’ve even opened a conversation like this with. What does Harper expect you to say? Hey, Clay! This surgery is super scary and you might die, but stay positive!

To be fair, it’s not like that’s a lie per say, but it’s incredibly blunt and you’re definitely not the type of person to just dish something out like that and move on.

“I am,” you start, finding it hard to fully look into the blonde’s eyes again. They’re so intense you’re not sure you’ll be able to be alone with him in this room, look into them, and not completely lose your mind. “It was a while back, nothing extremely recent, but yeah. It was…an experience.”

You don’t even know how to articulate the proper words to explain to Clay how monumental something like a heart transplant is. He’s not stupid, there’s no doubt he knows the risks, but having experienced it yourself and knowing first hand what’s it’s like on the other side of it all is hard to summarize.

“I bet it was,” Clay practically whispers. It’s in this moment you notice he’s lost some of that front he was obviously putting up for Dr. Harper. That joking edge in his tone is gone and is instead replaced by unknowingness. “Dr. Harper has tried to explain to me over and over how important and serious this surgery is, and I get it I really do, but there’s still a part of me that is completely lost on it all. I think if I believe it’s not that bad and just act like everything is fine that it will be. But I know that’s not how it works.

“I’ve tried to talk to Dr. Harper about it but it never comes out the way I want it to. I feel like it would kind of fall on deaf ears anyways. At the end of that surgery Dr. Harper will still be alive. I’m the only one in that operating room who has a chance at not making it back out of there and that terrifies the hell out of me.” Clay let’s out a breathy laugh, not because he finds anything actually funny, but because of the fact he can’t believe he actually said that out loud.

Since the moment he found out he needed this surgery, he’s never once vocalized the very real possibility of what can happen. He’s heard it spoken a dozen times to and around him, but never once has he heard it be spoken in his own voice. The weight on his shoulders seems to somehow get even heavier.

You know Clay is a busy man and that there isn’t a lot of time here to get through to him. But you feel your heart practically shatter in your chest at the blonde’s words, and it’s at this point you decide you’ll try your best, because for some reason the universe has given you this opportunity to be there for someone in your position—something you unfortunately didn’t have. You won’t stand to let Clay be in this alone. Family or not, the man clearly has no one around who’s gone through what he has and you refuse to let him deal with it on his own any longer.

“Clay,” you say, taking tentative steps towards him, not wanting to cross a boundary but also wanting to be close enough so he really hears what you’re about to say. “Dr. Harper isn’t wrong when he says how risky this surgery is. There is a very high chance that you will go to sleep on that table and never wake up.”

Clay’s eyes flick to yours and suddenly that jittery feeling you had looking into them earlier is gone. Now you only feel sincerity and determination as you look into them.

“I don’t want you to take that as me believing you won’t survive this, though. I mean look at me, I know first hand exactly what you’re going through, what you will go through, and I am still here. I am alive and healthy and proof that this can work for you too. I don’t know everything Dr. Harper has told you or asked of you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to let the fear control you. Yeah, this surgery is scary as hell. I didn’t think I was going to make it either, but I did, and I’ve lived every day since knowing this transplant is not a death sentence. It’s a chance at a new life.”

Something flickers in Clay’s eyes and you swear you can tell you’re getting through to him, in whatever way that may be.

“Yes, there are risks, and yes I agree with Dr. Harper in the sense that you need to grasp the fact this surgery and it’s repercussions are very real, but that’s not all that’s important. Of course there are things you have to think about and take care of before going into this surgery, but you also need to take care of yourself. It is your life, Clay, and if I took away anything from when I had my own transplant surgery, it’s that no one else can get you through this the way you can. Your decisions are your own and you have to look after what’s important to you first, no matter what or who that may be. But just because there’s a chance you won’t survive, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. You deserve to still be able to think about and plan your future. Dr. Harper is a good surgeon and I believe with all my heart that you will continue to have one.”

There’s a finality in your tone that you’re not quite sure on where it came from. Part of you feels like you were just standing on a soap box and maybe you shouldn’t have gone off on that little rant as much as you did, but from the look on Clay’s face you can tell it means the world to him.

“Y/N…why is it only now I’ve just met you?” Clay grins at you and you can feel your face flush at both his comment and awestruck gaze. “Somehow I feel things would’ve made a lot more sense earlier on if I would’ve met you when this all started. Not one person has ever made me feel the way you just did about this surgery. No one’s been able to give their honest thoughts and feelings on it all like that. This is the first time in almost a year that I’ve ever felt seen and heard.”

There’s a small blush on Clay’s cheeks and you revel in the way you words have affected him. You didn’t really have a plan, you kinda just went for it, so you’re glad it came off the way you wanted it to. If there’s anything Clay—or any transplant patient really—deserves is the chance to find solace in someone who can relate to them. Someone to help ease their fears, their burdens.

“There’s a lot of doctors and statistics involved in this whole thing, but there’s not a lot of relatability. Going through this process can be very lonely and nerve wracking, and I know we quite literally just met today but I want you to know I’m here for you, Clay. If you need someone that has any clue about what it’ll feel like, what the process of recovery is like, I’m here to answer those questions. Not everyone is the same, everyone’s transplant journey is different. But just know you no longer have to feel alone in this.”

As you finish your spiel, you try to hide your surprise at your own words. You’ve met this man officially mere minutes ago and yet here you are essentially offering up a shoulder to cry on. Even through your shock you find it weird how natural it feels.

“Thank you, Y/N, seriously,” Clay starts, clearly not feeling uncomfortable at the offer at all as an honest and warm smile adorns his face as he looks at you. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

That heat makes its way back to your face as you stare at Clay, watching as his eyes look up at you through his lashes as he continues to sit on the operating table. In this position you have the tiniest bit of height advantage on him and you curse yourself for noticing how easy it would be to lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an embrace.

After a few more beats of comfortable silence, the two of you just enthralled in each other’s presence, a daring thought pops into your head. It probably crosses so many lines in regards to HIPPA and just doctor/patient morals in general, but you don’t want this to be the last you see of Clay. Who knows when he’ll be back the same time as you, or if you’ll even get the opportunity to stop and talk to him when you are at the hospital at the same time. You’ve seen a lot of articles recently about taking things into your own hands, making the first step, and apparently this is your moment to practice just that.

“Clay-“ You don’t even get the chance to attempt to be bold because the moment the blonde’s name leaves your lips, his phone is ringing and his gaze is ripped from your own as he reaches into his pocket in search of the source of the sound.

You watch as he looks down at the screen and in an instant every thought of absolutely anything happening between you two is immediately dismissed. It’s so obvious in the way Clay’s shoulders relax, the crease between his brow flattens, and how his whole face practically lights up that clearly whoever is on the other side of that phone call is someone the businessman is in love with.

“Hey, baby,” Clay coos softly in the phone, looking so at peace in an environment that is the complete opposite of it. And that confirms it.

Your shoulders slump forward and you’re unsure why you feel so deeply affected by all of this. You don’t know Clay at all, never would have under any other circumstance, so why does it hurt so much watching him talk sweetly to another woman?

Quickly, you stand up straighter and plaster a smile on your face as Clay’s eyes flick over to you, seeming to remember where exactly he is and who it is he was talking to before his phone rang.

Pulling the phone away slightly from his face, he smiles at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should really head out now. It was so nice to meet you.” Clay gets up from the operating table and you find yourself taking a step back as his full height comes into view and he consumes your space.

“Of course! It was nice to meet you too, Clay,” you reply, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. A twinge of embarrassment floods through you. How naïve of you to let yourself daydream about this becoming anything else than what it actually is; a doctor talking to a patient.

You watch his retreating back as he makes his way to the door and you find yourself firmly planted in the spot he’s leaving you in. You won’t lie, a part of you doesn’t want to follow in the risk you’ll go in the same direction and you’ll be forced to hear him whisper more sweet nothings to another woman.

As Clay opens the door, he pauses for a moment before turning back to you and nodding his head. “See you around.”

The door slowly closes behind him and you let out a breath of air you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“See you around, Clay.”

*****

“God, I cannot wait to go home, curl up in bed, and go to sleep. I’m exhausted,” Jill groans as she rubs the back of her neck with her hand, trying to ease some of the tension there.

“Tell me about it, I feel like it was so brutal today. I guess it makes sense considering it is Halloween, but still.” Rolling your head, you feel a couple cracks in your neck and you can’t help the hum of satisfaction that slips past your lips at the feeling.

“Oh shit, it is Halloween, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t realize! Ugh all the good candy is probably sold out by now. You think some of the other doctors with families will bring in candy tomorrow they don’t want their kids to eat? I’d kill for a full size Hershey bar.”

You giggle over your friend’s comments and roll your eyes as you nudge her softly. “Jill, we can get those from the vending machines! Stop trying to mooch off of kids’ hard earned candy.”

“I know, but it tastes better when it’s from trick or treating! A-k-a when it’s free! Besides those kids don’t need it, cavities and all that.”

“Oh okay, I didn’t know you switched over to dentistry,” you laugh.

Jill rolls her eyes and smirks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, are you even working tomorrow? You better or when I steal a kid’s candy bar, I’m not sharing with you.”

“You’ll have to indulge without me then because I’m off,” you shrug and then laugh as you watch Jill throw her head back with a groan.

“Ugh, so not fair, you lucky, lucky girl! I’m not off until the day after.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get my karma then because I’m working when you’ll be off, so it all balances out in the end.”

Jill tilts her head and hums satisfactorily at that realization. “Huh, you’re right. All is forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and you shake your head at your friend’s antics. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

As the two of you round the corner towards the front door, you both slow down as you take in the sight of a small group before you. It only takes you a second to recognize Clay and even less time to realize he’s with a girl. A very beautiful girl at that.

“Woah, who’s the babe with Clay? You think that’s…?” Jill tilts her head slightly towards you, wanting to get your insight.

You don’t even have to guess that that’s the woman the blonde was talking to earlier on the phone. As you get closer you realize Clay has his arm wrapped around her as well, and your stomach lurches a bit at the sight.

“Y/N!” Your eyes are immediately averted from Clay’s embrace around his—presumed—girlfriend, and instead become locked in with those of the man in question. Those pale blues look somehow even brighter, happier than they were this morning. From the looks on everyone else’s face as well, you can tell there’s a reason for it.

“Hey, Clay,” you smile, finding yourself and Jill now wrapped up in the small gathering. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?”

“More than okay, Ms. Y/L/N! Clay here is getting his new heart tonight,” Dr. Harper chimes in. The smile that breaks out on your face is uncontrollable.

“What!? Clay, that’s amazing! Congratulations.” For a mere moment it feels like the two of you are the only ones standing there. Clay’s soft, grateful smile causes your cheeks to warm and a sense of adoration to flow through you.

The feeling swiftly leaves though as you pick up movement out of the corner of your eye. All too soon you’re brought back to the reality that you’re in a group of people, and the man you can’t stop fawning over is very much involved with whoever this woman is next to him.

Your eyes flit from Clay’s to the brunette woman’s and somehow Clay seems to pick up on it, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced you two yet! Sam, this is Y/N, one of the doctors who works with Jack. Y/N, this is Sam; my wife.”

Wife.

The word rings out in your head and you have to fight the way it nearly knocks you off your feet. “H-Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” You reach out your hand and Sam does the same, your eyes widening at the sight of her wedding ring as she grasps your hand in hers.

You quickly try to recover, not wanting to be too obvious with the way you’re feeling right now. Sam’s smile is big and infectious and you’re sure she doesn’t notice a thing.

Who would, knowing a man like the one next to her is her husband?

Lightly shaking your head, you let go of Sam’s hand and turn towards Jill, needing her now more than ever and also realizing she also deserves an introduction.

“And this is Jill! A friend of mine as well as a fellow doctor.” Jill wastes no time in taking Clay’s gaze off of you, moving in closer and sticking out her hand immediately.

“Hi! So great to officially meet you, Clay!” She says ecstatically before turning her head towards his wife and only slightly losing the excitement. “Sam.”

Clay grasps her hand in his and you can just tell by the look on her face that she’s eating this up. You have to hold yourself back from laughing. “I remember you! I saw you this morning while I was with Dr. Harper, right?”

You swear you see Jill die and then come back to life all in a split second. “Y-Yes, that was me!”

She miraculously lets go of Clay’s hand and you hear her let out a stunned huff as the takes a step back towards you. Not a second later you feel Jill poke you lightly in the side and you know immediately she’s never going to live this moment down.

You cover up the chuckle that escapes you by clearing your throat. As you regain yourself, you watch as Sam looks up at Clay and they seem to share a private moment, even while standing in the middle of a hospital. It’s evident the love they have for each other, the trust and admiration. It’s palpable and makes your heart squeeze, both in envy and despair.

You’d give anything to have a love like that. A man like that. Specifically that man in front of you, if you’re being completely honest.

“You girls heading home for the night?” A voice cuts into your stream of thought and you’re grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Clay and Sam.

It’s Dr. Puttnam, but you’re honestly not even mad about having to talk to him right now. You might even go as far as to say you’re thankful for him…maybe.

“Yeah, our shifts just ended so we’re on our way out,” you reply.

“Really? That’s too bad, I was hoping maybe you’d be here for the surgery. I figured since you work with Jack and all that you’d be in the operating room,” Clay says, drawing your attention right back to him.

“Oh-!” Clay’s words catch you off guard but also leave you feeling flattered. To think he wanted—no, wants—you in the operating room with him, it leaves you practically speechless. “Uh-no, I’m not on your case specifically, but I wouldn’t mind stepping in, if Dr. Harper is-“

“No!” You’re cut off by Harper himself and with his sudden exclamation, your excitement dwindles. An opportunity to be there for Clay in a way you didn’t think was possible would’ve been everything. Even besides that, to step in on a high profile heart transplant surgery this early in your career could’ve opened so many doors for you. You’re confused on the sudden shut down of the idea and by the look on Clay’s face, you’re not the only one. Harper clears his throat and gives a strained smile. “I mean, unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible. Although Y/N is more than capable of taking part in the surgery, due to the severity of this case I must insist we stick with only the original people assigned to this operation. We wouldn’t want to risk anything or have more people in the room than necessary.”

A valid reason, but still a disappointing one nonetheless. You just nod your head understandingly, your lips coming together in a tight line as you try to not let your upset emotions shine through.

“You could stick around in the waiting room with me? If you want to that is, I know you’re just getting off a shift. Clay told me earlier about the conversation he had with you and well, I just know it’d mean a lot to him to know you were around—at least in some capacity—for his surgery.” Your eyes snap to Sam and her offer takes you by surprise.

Damn, she’s nice, too? It’s gonna be really hard to dislike this woman.

You shift your gaze to the blonde before you and he nods his head lightly, encouraging the idea. Your decision is a no brainer. “I’d love to. Anything to help support Clay.”

“Great!” Puttnam cuts in with a clap of his hands. “The more, the merrier! I’m sure your mother will appreciate the company, Clay.”

The doctor looks on with a smile but it immediately drops as he takes in Clay’s concerned expression.

“What? Wait, she’s here?” Clay questions.

Clay and Harper share a look and you try to not come off as nosy as you attempt to read their expressions. It’s clear Dr. Harper and Clay have some sort of understanding with each other. It doesn’t seem odd considering their friendship, but it’s clear there’s some hesitation between them when it comes to Mrs. Beresford, at least from what you can tell.

“What? She’s on the call sheet,” Dr. Puttnam says in defense.

Clay sighs before turning to Sam. “I’m going to go deal with this and then I’ll meet back up with you. I think it’d be best if I just went with Jack to handle my mother.” Sam nods and you watch as the blonde leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead before turning back to the group.

You try to make yourself appear as if you didn’t just witness their tender moment by stepping a bit closer to Penny, trying to locate what room they’re gonna have Clay in.

“If you want,” you start, wanting to offer at least some sort of help. “I can take Sam up to the room you’ll be in. She can wait there until you’re ready to get changed for surgery.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Clay smiles. “That’d be perfect.”

Trying to hide the blush you just know is beginning to coat your cheeks, you smile and nod your head before stepping away towards Jill. The look on her face makes her appear as if she’s just won the lottery and honestly just knowing how Jill is, her talking to Clay is her version of winning the lottery.

You roll your eyes affectionately and smirk as you physically feel how jittery with excitement she is as you pull her closer to you. “Well, I guess this is happening?”

“Holy shit! Yeah this is happening! Look at you getting all cosy with the Beresford family! This morning you didn’t even think you’d ever be in the same room as Clay let alone getting to talk to him and now be his personal on call girl.” There’s a suggestive look on your friend’s face and you feel yourself wanting to curl into a ball over the fact she said that when everyone else is barely five feet away.

“Jill!” You squeak. She begins to laugh and you hate the fact you feel yourself fighting back a chuckle as well. “I can’t believe you.”

“No, I can’t believe you. I’m heading home but go and get cosy with the apparent new Mrs. B.” Jill lowers her voice and leans her head so close to you her forehead nearly knocks into the side of yours. “Maybe you’ll find out she’s really some horrible person and you can swoop in and steal the blonde god that is Clay Beresford away from her.”

“Jill! Never gonna happen!” You playfully push your friend away and watch as she laughs brightly over the whole thing. You just stand there and shake your head, barely noticing the intrigued look on Clay’s face a few feet away from you.

As your friend recollects herself, you let her absurd words float through your mind. You sneak a glance over at the woman in question and find it hard to believe she could have any trace of evil inside of her. Her smile and eyes are too kind, and the literal glow around her as she talks with her husband is unmistakable. It’s clear she makes Clay happy and you’re sure a man as good as Clay Beresford would never fall for someone cruel.

“You never know,” Jill shrugs. She yawns and then continues. “I’m gone, but call me if anything happens! Good or bad, I want the details.”

“Promise! Have a good night, I’ll see you later.” Jill waves in return and as she walks past the small group she wishes Clay ‘good luck’, which he instantly thanks her for.

Even with her back turned you can tell the woman has a smile on her face. You don’t even wanna know the thoughts running through her head right now. The idea makes you chuckle.

Rejoining the group you take in the fact it’s dwindled since you stepped away. All that remains is Clay, Sam, and Dr. Harper.

“Y/N, perfect timing! Dr. Puttnam has gone with Penny to get the operating room ready for Clay. Why don’t you go on ahead with Sam while Clay and I speak with his mother. We hope the conversation won’t be long,” Dr. Harper says before glancing at Clay. “But either way we will meet up with you both and get started right away.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say before turning towards Clay and Sam. “Sam, right this way.”

The brunette smiles at you warmly and you mentally curse yourself for even jokingly thinking about the idea of stealing her new husband from her.

After all, she is just evidently a girl in love trying to live a long, happy life with her husband.

*****

To say the atmosphere has turned a little...chilly would be an understatement. After bringing Sam back to the waiting room, it wasn't long before Clay's mother joined you two. She greeted you kindly, asked a few questions, and thanked you for staying to support her son. But the minute Sam tried to insert herself into the conversation, tried to find some connection with Clay's mom, Lilith immediately shut her down. Lilith wasn't very receptive to anything Sam had to say, which made having any conversation with the both of them basically impossible, to put it lightly.

So now you find yourself practically trapped between these two women who clearly have some sort of history, anxiously watching the time tick by on the clock you've had your eyes glued to for some time now. Lilith's occupied herself with some playing cards she had in her purse and Sam twiddles aimlessly with her thumbs, no doubt feeling anxious not only about Clay but also due to the tension between herself and his mother.

"Miss, uh..." The deep baritone of the nurse's voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you immediately hone in on the chance he might be bringing news of Clay. "Ramos?"

Your shoulders slump down in rejection, feeling no closer to getting any answers than you did before the nurse walked in. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he goes and sits down in one of the waiting room chairs close to Sam. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you wonder what it is he could want from her.

"Hi, how you doin'?" He asks Sam and you can tell she's having non of it as she replies with a cool 'hey'. "Can I help you with something?"

Wow, he's persistent, you think.

You go to roll your eyes, picking up on the fact that clearly this guy is trying to hit on Sam. Which, if you think about it, is a little sick considering where you are currently. Obviously that doesn't deter some people.

"Haven't I seen you around?" You lift your head up and look over at the pair, finding it odd the nurse would even say that. You assume if he has seen her around, she'd be with Clay and this guy would know she's taken. You mentally brush it off, this is probably just part of his game to get Sam's number.

The need to maybe step in on Sam's behalf is abruptly pushed to the side as you see Sam hold up her hand, proudly showing off her engagement and wedding ring.

You can't help the tiny smirk that graces your lips as you watch the nurse sigh and slouch down in defeat. Sam shut that down real quick. The nurse mumbles an apology before rushing off back to his job.

"You have two rings on your finger." Your smirk disappears as you hear Lilith speak up from beside you. It's the first time she's spoken to Sam directly since you got to the waiting room. Something tells you this is not gonna be good.

"What was that?" Sam questions barely above a whisper. She's probably just as shocked as you this interaction is happening.

"Why are you wearing two rings, Sam?" The way Lilith questions it, you know she already knows the answer and she is not happy about it.

Holy shit, you think. She had no idea her own son got married.

Things just got a whole lot more interesting.

Sam stays silent and it doesn't take long for Lilith to question, "When?"

"Just before he got the call," Sam shrugs, looking timid. Clay's mom sighs and quickly looks away from her, finding the playing cards she's been shuffling way more interesting than whatever it is her apparent daughter-in-law has to say.

"Lilith," Sam pleads, but it's no use as Lilith refuses to look up.

Yikes. Maybe I should've sat on the other side, you think. You feel at any moment those playing cards could go flying and you really don't feel like being in the middle of that cat fight.

Clearing your throat in the least awkward way as possible, you get up and head for the vending machine a few feet in front of you. Maybe a little refreshment will do you some good. It is Halloween after all, you deserve a sweet treat.

As you pick which of the drinks it is you want, you remember the tidbit Sam tried to give Clay's mom earlier when she first walked into the waiting room. You hold down a bit longer on the button and feel satisfied as you watch your treat get released to you.

Bending down to grab your drink, you startle a little as a crash sounds from behind you. You turn your head and watch as Sam hurries to the floor, a bunch of orange pill bottles scattered around her. She must've dropped her purse.

"Oh, shit!" She exclaims, trying to catch some of the bottles before they roll away. You go to help her pick them up, but you stop as she begins to speak, clearly to Lilith. "Levatol, Enalapril, Digoxin. He likes me to carry them around. If I left it up to him he'd be popping 'em like M&Ms. He could OD on these things, you know?"

Sam finishes gathering all the bottles and goes back to the chair she was sitting in. "Can't say I'll miss them. A lot of cute purses I haven't been able to use over the last year."

"I didn't know you did that," Lilith says softly, looking down at the ground. It's obvious she's taking in the fact Sam cares deeply for Clay. Why else would she cart around all his medicines like that? You don't do that for someone you're not serious about. "That you carried his meds around."

It feels as if there's about to be some big turning point for the two women right now, so you stay hovering by the vending machine, not wanting to get in the way of whatever moment they're about to have. You only hope it turns out well and doesn't become a screaming match.

"I tried not to like him. I honestly did," Sam starts. "Lilith, I know how much he means to you."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Lilith asks defensively. You barely know the woman and yet you can tell all of this is incredibly hard for her to fathom. Her son got married right under her nose and now he's in a life threatening surgery that she has no idea if he'll survive. You can't even imagine where her head must be at right now.

"I want you to tell him that he's as good as his father. I want you to tell him that it's okay to love me, and I want you to tell me that it's okay to love him back. He's already lost one parent, he can't lose another. He needs you. I'm not a bad person. I mean if you could just give us your blessing—"

There's a rawness and urgency in Sam's tone. At this point she has nothing left to lose. It's clear she's hanging on to every second Lilith is giving her, using every bit of that time to try and convince this powerful woman that she's deserving of her son. A part of you aches for her. To have a love you're willing to fight for is a rare thing, and you think anyone who's willing to sacrifice everything for the one they love deserves happiness.

"Okay, just stop talking." Lilith holds up her hand and that immediately causes Sam to halt her efforts. You prepare for the worst, but what Clay's mom does next shocks you. "Just make sure he takes his meds and...stop talking."

"What?" Sam asks, her eyes going slightly wide at Lilith's...acceptance?

"He has horrible allergies. Did you know that? Especially in the spring. Grass and flowers." You watch as Sam wastes no time in wrapping her arms around Lilith, bringing her in for a long awaited hug. The sight makes you smile. "Don't think this means I'm gonna be visiting every week."

Sam holds on a little longer and you can see Lilith start to stiffen a bit at the contact. She's not fully there yet, but you can tell this family is going to be okay. You may not know the whole story, but it's clear there's a lot of love involved. "Okay. Okay, let go. All right." Lilith chuckles a little and the two of them break apart, settling back into each of their respective seats.

You take this as your sign that it's all clear to take your seat again. You walk up and catch Sam's eye, you give her a warm smile and she gives you one in return. That glow she had around Clay earlier is back and you can tell this interaction she had with Lilith has lifted her spirits. That little envious feeling you had earlier too comes back, but you push it aside. Now is not the time.

As you sit down in between Sam and Lilith again, you open your drink and take a long sip. The cool liquid runs down your throat and you relish in the refreshing feeling. It feels like you've all been here for ages. You're starting to pick up on the feeling your friends and family must've had when you had your own heart transplant surgery. This waiting game is definitely not easy, and you'd give anything to get some answers.

Clay's wife must feel the same because not a second later she leans towards you and Lilith. "You know what? I'm gonna try and find out what's going on."

You both give Sam nods of encouragement, seeing it as the best bet. You thought about maybe trying to use your status as an employee as leverage to try and get some information, but the fact you're off the clock mixed with the fact you're not part of Clay's family had you second guessing doing that. Thankfully Sam's taking one for the team. "Sit tight, you two. I'll be right back."

The brunette walks off towards two doctors who have congregated in the hallway and you strain your ears to try and hear what they have to say, it's useless though, everyone talking in hushed tones.

There's a doctor in blue scrubs off to the right of Sam and you watch as he makes his way towards her. You've personally never seen him around before, but maybe he's new or he's been called in to help on a surgery. Whatever the case may be, you just hope he has some answers about Clay and his condition.

"You're not a doctor at this hospital!" You hear Sam bite out, and the comment leaves you confused. "I mean, you don't work here, do you?" She finishes in hushed tones, but it's just loud enough for you to hear, and by the looks of it so did Lilith. The two of you share a puzzling look, not understanding why Sam would say something like that. You chalk it up to the fact maybe Sam just hasn't seen this specific doctor before. You're sure she's decently familiar with Clay's team, so of course she'd have some questions if someone completely new is working on his surgery.

You give Lilith an assuring smile, trying to ease any worries she may have. She gives you one too, but you can tell it's not genuine. She goes back to holding her scarf close to her chest, no doubt what she's using to ground herself, and you mentally sigh. As with any patient's family, you want to give Lilith some sort of comfort to hold onto. A positive update. Good news on Clay's recovery. Anything at all. But alas, you're not able to offer anything and that alone breaks your heart.

Sam walks away from the doctor and you watch as she retreats down a hallway. You're not sure where she plans on going or how she plans on getting some answers, but maybe she knows something you don't. Clay is a high profile patient, to be fair. She could know a way to get access that you haven't heard of yet. Whatever it is Sam is doing, you just hope she's quick. You're not sure how much longer Lilith will be able to hold out without any information.

*****

It seems like hours before Sam makes her way back to the waiting room. In reality it was probably only ten to fifteen minutes, but every minute feels like an hour when it comes to something like this.

As the newest Mrs. Beresford walks towards you and Lilith, you watch as Clay's mother immediately springs to her feet.

"Is he okay? Is everything okay?"

"They wouldn't say," Sam offers. All that time gone and she has nothing to report? There's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that says none of this is right, things aren't adding up, but you let it go the minute you catch a glimpse of Lilith's face; a mix of both relief at no bad news, but also nerves from no good news either.

"You were gone so long. I started—" Lilith rolls her head back, her shoulders slumping.

"I know, I know. I'm scared too," Sam sympathizes.

The brunette rubs the arms of the older woman before leading her back to her chair. She smiles and nods at you, and you try your best not to make anything of her shifty gaze. It feels almost as if she doesn't want you too close, seeing past anything she's giving Lilith.

It must be paranoia, nothing solid has happened to make it seem like something is going on. Sam is a nice girl, she probably can just tell you have the hots for her husband, and as the clock ticks closer and closer to his surgery finishing, you're sure she's just becoming a little uncomfortable sharing such a personal time with you.

You technically are just a random doctor she met today who had a heartfelt conversation with her significant other and is now sitting with her and her mother-in-law during his life altering surgery. When you put it into perspective, the untrustworthy atmosphere seems to make a bit more sense.

Shaking it off, you readjust yourself in your chair. With no news at all, who knows how much longer it's going to be. Might as well get comfortable.

*****

"Something's wrong." Lilith's voice breaks you out of the trance you've found yourself in. For who knows how long now you've been trying to ground yourself. You're not sure why you're feeling so affected. Maybe it's because you do have a soft spot for Clay. Maybe it's the realization of how scary it is to care for someone going through a heart transplant. Maybe it's a coping mechanism to try and tune out the fact the three of you haven't spoken since Sam came back, anxiety striking you all silent. "I can feel that something's wrong."

"What Is it?" You ask Lilith, noticing her stricken expression the moment you look towards her.

"I can't just sit here like this. They should have told us something by now."

Sam straightens in her seat beside you, no doubt gearing up to try and calm Clay's mom. "Listen to me."

"No, you don't understand. He's not just my son. I was a kid when I had him."

"He's gonna be fine," Sam assures, shifting her gaze between Lilith and you, nodding her head. Your nervousness is probably written all over your face.

"We've grown up together. It's me and him," Lilith continues.

Sam has a contemplative look on her face, and you find yourself having deja vu. You take this as your opportunity to offer Lilith some comfort and advice, much like you did with Clay earlier today. Although, that seems so long ago now.

"He's not gonna die. Not now, not today," you say as you turn your body towards her. Confidence—or something—must overtake you because you find yourself reaching for her hand, feeling the slight shake in them. A mother's worries.

"How can you be so sure?" She whispers, not pulling away from your light grip.

With all the sincerity you can muster you whisper to her, "Because he's got too much to live for."

You can see the shimmer of tears brimming Lilith's eyes as she takes in your words. In an instant, you feel her squeeze your hand, no doubt trying to thank you for your words without having to actually say so, her voice unreliable at this point with the amount of emotion lodged in her throat.

You simply nod your head, letting her know you understand completely. What you said isn't bullshit, it's genuinely how you feel. It's clear as day that Clay is surrounded by two women who love him very much. There's no doubt in your mind that he laid down on that operating table today with every intention of waking up and going back to them.

The thought squeezes your own heart that you fought so hard for. To love is to be loved, and you're happy that Clay has a good support system around him to guide him through what is no doubt going to be hell for a little while. You remember your own restless days and recovery process. Lilith and Sam may not know exactly what Clay is gonna go through, but you're sure they'll do all they can to help him.

*****

You're the first to notice Dr. Harper walking towards you along with the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You lightly tap both Lilith and Sam with each of your hands to grab their attention. This is it.

"So?" Lilith questions after getting to her feet. Harper immediately shakes his head and your stomach drops.

"He rejected the heart." Four words. Four words is all it takes to completely throw you off balance. "We did everything we could, but the organ failed, and I am so sorry."

No, there's no way.

You feel Sam fall to her seat beside you and you wonder how it must feel for her. She married the love of her life not even a day ago and in just a few hours she lost him. You can't imagine a worse heartbreak.

"The organ failed?" Lilith questions, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Yes, it wouldn't respond to the procedure. But in cases like this, it's not uncommon for—"

"Don't you mean you failed?" Lilith cuts him off, and you can tell at any minute she might lose it. You can't blame her, you'd do the same in her position. You're positive Dr. Harper did all he can to save Clay, but this was a risk you were all well aware of. You just never thought it'd actually happen.

"No, we...we did everything that we could. It's just an imperfect procedure." Harper shakes his head and you can tell by the look on his face that this has broken him just as much as the rest of you. You don't know him or Clay that well, but it's clear they had a genuine friendship. He will never recover from this.

"Say it," Lilith bites out.

"Say what?"

"I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear you say you failed my son." Dr. Harper stands there in shock as Lilith walks away from him and sits on the opposite side of the aisle of chairs. "It shouldn't have been you. It should never have been you. I fucking knew it."

"I'm sorry, Sam." Harper whispers before slightly turning and barely meeting your eyes. "Y/N."

He leaves the room and all that's left is you, Sam, Lilith, and the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You find yourselves in utter silence. No other sounds can be heard besides the distant noises of other lives being saved and others being unfortunately lost. You think about how many more families will be devastated tonight just like the Beresfords. The thought pains you.

"I'm afraid we're gonna need your permission to take him off bypass." The doctor's words cause you to glance up at him. He stands tentatively at Mrs. Beresford's side.

"What?" She asks, looking over at him with tears streaming down her face.

"We'll need your permission," He says again, taking a seat next to her. "I'm so sorry to have to ask."

"I don't understand," Lilith shakes her head. "He's alive."

"Yes, but his blood's being pumped by a machine. He has no heart."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the image that's planted itself in your mind. You've seen countless people be put on bypass, it's your job, but it makes you feel sick to think about Clay being in that position with no way out. His chest open on that table with no heart inside to make him better again. You hate it. He deserved better.

"Then get him another heart," Clay's mother demands, not understanding the full severity of the situation. There is no other heart. You've heard enough about Clay and his case to know this one was a miracle as it is. To get another heart on such short notice, whilst also not having Clay on bypass for too long a time, is impossible.

"You don't understand. His blood type's too rare. We don't have one. I'm sorry. It's over." The doctor explains softly. Lilith merely thanks him before standing up and making her way to the corner of the waiting room, scarf still clutched in her hands.

"I'll be in the hallway," the doctor says before walking away form you all.

"Lilith," Sam says as she gets up from her seat.

"Could you leave me alone for a minute?" Lilith stops her in her tracks, not wanting Sam's comfort right now.

"Okay," she complies before walking away, going who knows where.

For a moment it's just you and Clay's mom. Nothing is said between the two of you, but just by looking at her you can tell she's struggling to keep it together.

You stand, taking a small step closer to the woman before softy calling out her name. "Lilith."

Suddenly, her eyes narrow slightly, a look of determination overtaking her grief-stricken features. "I'm going to the cafeteria. I need a moment alone."

She doesn't even await your answer as she swiftly makes her way around the chairs and towards the hallway, but not before snatching Sam's purse out of one of the chairs. You don't even question it at this point, you'd do just about anything else before standing in the way of a grieving mother.

*****

Time passes, and that nagging feeling you had earlier that something is severely wrong comes crawling back. Lilith still isn't back from the cafeteria yet, and you haven't seen Sam since Lilith asked her to leave.

You do the only thing that feels right. You go after Lilith. She's Clay's mother. If something is going on, she'd be the only one you could trust to tell you the truth. You need to talk to her, see if she feels the same way. You don't understand how this all could've gone south so fast.

Quickly making your way to the cafeteria, you looking around at all the tables and chairs, trying to find Lilith as quickly as possible. When you do finally spot her, what you see has your breath catching in your throat.

"Lilith!" You cry, rushing over to her secluded table. When you reach her, she's just finished shoving multiple pills in her mouth. You recognize the bottles as the same ones that fell out of Sam's purse earlier. Lilith has taken Clay's medication. She's trying to OD. "What have you done!? I need to get help."

Before you're able to rush off and call someone over to help you, Lilith has her hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "No! Please, don't."

"Why are you doing this? What's going on? I came to find you because I think something's wrong with what happened to Clay but-but-" You feel tears start to brim your eyes. Even though you hardly know the woman before you, you can't imagine her taking her own life. The pain she must be feeling is insurmountable, but she can't do this. She can't.

"Let me explain, please. I don't have much time." Lilith urges you to sit down and you do so immediately. The quicker she gets out whatever she needs to say, the quicker you can go for help and save her life. There's no way you're losing both Beresfords tonight.

"What is it?" You urge, leaning towards her in your seat, the anticipation and stress eating you up.

"I had a feeling something was going on, I knew it from the beginning, but I kept telling myself I was just paranoid. My suspicions were confirmed though when I found this." Lilith pauses to reach into Sam's purse, pulling out a small stack of envelopes and handing them to you.

"What is this?" You look down at the letters Lilith has given you and your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you notice Sam's name on them. Except, on each letter, she has one of two different last names. On some of her letters her name is Samantha Lockwood, but on others, specifically one from Varick University (a nursing school), it says her name is Samantha Tunnell. You feel like you're gonna throw up, quickly catching on to where this might be going.

"She's not who she says she is. It only took me a second to put it together after that. She's been to this hospital before. Think about it; the vending machine she somehow knew how to work? The nurse asking if he'd seen her before? Her saying one of Clay's doctors didn't work at this hospital? How would she know any of that stuff? I don't know the exact specifics, but they're all in on it, all of them! They tried to kill my son, they are killing him unless I do something about it."

"Lilith, I'm sorry there's nothing we can do. There's no other heart for Clay. His blood type—"

"Is the same as mine."

Lilith's sentence sends your mind reeling. Suddenly, the picture becomes clear.

She's going to give him her heart.

"Lilith, if what you're saying is true—"

"It is, and I need you to let me do it. I've already called Dr. Neyer, he's on his way to perform the transplant, I don't trust anyone else. It's happening and it's happening fast so please, listen to me. I need you to do me a favor, Y/N."

You're stunned silent. There are no words to describe what's happening right now. It was just supposed to be a heart transplant. The anticipation of waiting for Clay to make it out on the other side was supposed to be the most nerve-racking event of the day, but suddenly his murder plot is.

Trusted medical staff. His best friend. His wife. All in on it. Your stomach churns and your heart races, but as you stare at Lilith, you realize just how serious she is. How dead set she is on changing the story these horrible people have written.

Gone is the poised woman who was married to a business tycoon. What remains is merely a mother doing everything she can to save her only child. You'd find it admirable if you weren't already feeling so frightened and worried about it all.

What she's set in motion cannot be undone, and as she stares at you eagerly, hoping you'll agree, you can't help but to take a leap of faith and do just that. "What can I do to help you?"

"Hold onto those letters like your life depends on it. Give them to the police directly the minute they get here. She cannot and will not get away with this. None of them will. But most importantly, what I need you to do is look after my son."

Lilith reaches out and grasps your hands in hers, much like you did earlier when you were assuring her Clay would not die today. Unlike earlier, though, her hands are no longer trembling. She is the most stoic you've seen her all day, and her determination is slowly but surely rubbing off on you.

"Lilith, I—" You can't find the right words to reply to her with. Obviously turning in evidence to the police is a no brainer, but looking after Clay? A man you met not even 24 hours ago. Your heart knows it's right, but your head is trying to reason otherwise.

"It's okay, I know it's a big ask, but please Y/N. Clay will have no one else on his side after tonight. I know you just met me, just met him, but for some reason I trust you wholly. I can tell your heart is pure. You stayed by Clay's side just for the mere fact you wanted to be there for him. You know personally what he's gonna go through after he wakes up from that surgery. I have no one else to turn to, no one else to ask. I know it's not fair of me, but I need you. He needs you."

Your heart swells. Emotions run wild through your mind, only one thought clear amongst the chaos. You have to do this, you have to do what she's asking. You want to. God knows no one else will get it all like you do. No one else will understand Clay and be there for him to answer any questions he may have. You truly will be all he's got.

With tears slipping down your cheeks, you nod your head. "Yes, absolutely. I'll do it, Lilith. I promise I won't let you down, I won't let Clay down."

"Good," she smiles, her eyes starting to droop closed. No doubt the concoction of pills she downed working their way through her bloodstream. Any minute now her body will shut down. Her heart will stop beating. She'll never wake up again. "Now hurry. Go find Neyers. He should be here any minute if he's not already. Bring him here and make sure he gets started right away. Clay doesn't have much time."

Noting your head, you stand up from the table, removing one of your hands from Lilith's grasp to wipe away your endless tears. Before you can take back your other hand, Clay's mother squeezes it tightly, causing you to look directly at her.

"Thank you," she whispers, her body slumping back in her chair, her head beginning to lean on the wall to her right. "Clay deserves someone like you."

You smile weakly at the woman, your heart squeezing for more reasons than one. "Goodbye, Lilith."

The older woman lets go of your hand and uses it to prop her head up. To anyone walking by she just looks like a tired loved one, looking to pass the time in the hospital cafeteria. But you know what's really going on. You watch as her breathing slows, her chest rising and falling less and less as the seconds tick by. It'll be any second now, but you can't bear to witness her final moment. Instead, you do as she asked and haul ass to the hospital entrance, looking for the man who's going to save the life of the Beresford heir.

*****

Knowing Clay was going under the knife a second time was no easier than the first time. Dr. Neyer is an incredibly capable doctor, but considering the events of today, you could say you're still a bit uneasy.

There was no way you were going back to that waiting room from earlier, you'd rather walk around aimlessly for hours instead of reliving those moments again and again in your mind. You're beating yourself up over the fact you didn't truly notice anything was off earlier. If you just would've trusted your gut feeling a little more or asked a few more questions, maybe things could've been different.

You shake those thoughts away, though, knowing there's nothing to be done now. What's done is done and all you can do is hope and wait for Clay to get out of that surgery safe and sound.

After meeting up with Neyer and the police, you discovered they already caught Puttnam and Penny. They're still looking for Harper and Sam, but you're sure they'll catch them soon. They're in this hospital somewhere and there's no way they're coming out of it without wearing handcuffs. There's officers at every exit, so it's just a matter of time.

Your sadness and confusion has morphed into anger now. You feel betrayed for Clay and his family, and you feel betrayed for yourself for the fact these doctors you trusted turned out to be nothing but heartless, greedy monsters. These people who you looked up to, who you wanted to be like, are nothing but frauds.

Heat starts to travel up your neck, and the feeling only intensifies when a loud noise ahead of you catches your attention and you spot a familiar brunette trying to open a locked door.

"Hey, Mrs. Beresford," you call out, Sam's head instantly snapping in your direction. "Or should I call you Ms. Lockwood? Or Ms. Tunnell? Or I know! How about just Sam? Considering that seems to be the only name that stays consistent through all your different identities."

Samantha smirks as she stalks towards you, a look of smugness all over her face. It's hilarious how she clearly thinks she's won. If only she knew how far from the truth that is.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she sighs. "All I'm doing is looking for some answers on my husband's death. I'm just the grieving widow, remember?"

Your blood boils at her comments. How dare she feign innocence when she's probably the one who killed Clay. Your mind goes back to when she was gone from the waiting room for so long, looking for updates on Clay's surgery. She was probably meeting up with all of them, planning on what they were gonna do next. It takes everything in you not to lunge for the woman before you.

"Cut the shit, Sam! I know what you did, and so do the police. Nice work on carrying around your mail with you. Couldn't even cover up your tracks properly. You'll never get away with this no matter how hard you try or how many fake tears you cry."

Sam's smirk falters. She knows she's caught. You can see the realization flash in her eyes. Her mistakes, her missteps, her failures.

"Oh, please," she scoffs, trying to gain back the upper hand. "And who are you, exactly? Nothing but a wannabe surgeon with a little crush on someone else's husband. Real nice."

"Yeah? At least I'm not a killer. And unlike you, I am a surgeon, which is more than you'll ever be while you're locked up behind bars." Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to the side and call over your shoulder, "She's over here, officers!"

Sam's eyes widen, quickly realizing you had her right where you wanted her. You saw the police officers coming up the hallway off to your right, you just had to buy them some time so they could catch up to you and arrest Sam once and for all.

Now it's your turn to have the smug look on your face as the officers rush past you and get Sam down on the ground. She never even had a chance to try and outrun them.

Walking over to the woman on the ground, you squat down to try and be more in her line of vision. You really wanna make sure she understands the words you're about to utter.

"Oh and, Sam?" You start, practically batting your eyelashes at her as she glares at you. "It's ex-husband now. And trust me, I'll take real good care of him for you."

The woman practically screams as you stand back up and turn on your heel towards the recovery rooms. Clay will be out of surgery soon and you wanna make sure you're there for him when he wakes up.

As you turn the corner, you spare a quick glance back down the way you came. Although you wish everything that happened today never occurred, it gives you great satisfaction to see the officers yank Sam up off the ground and practically drag her towards the exit.

Good, you think. She'll get what she deserves.

*****

After several more hours, you've found yourself sat in a recovery room. Finally.

Not long after the police apprehended Sam, they found Harper and arrested him. He was just sat in his office, evidence laid out on his desk. He was ready for them. If you had to guess, he's probably the only one out of that group who genuinely feels remorse for what they did. You find it hard to sympathize with him at this current moment, though.

Dr. Neyer informed you the surgery went well. They lost Clay right at the end but thankfully were able to bring him back one final time. He lays in front of you now on a hospital bed, the beeping of his heart monitor and his soft breathing the only sounds filling the room.

It's been a few hours since they brought Clay here, and you used that time to catch up on some much needed sleep after being up for nearly twenty-four hours. It was a quick nap, but you feel much better.

You're still trying to process everything that happened. Even with Clay laying here in front of you like this, you and him being the only ones in the room, it still doesn't feel real. Part of you thinks that maybe you'll wake up at any moment and it'll all have been a dream. Another part of you worries that it's all too real, and that there's a chance Clay might not wake up.

Dr. Neyers stopped in a few minutes ago and informed you that Clay should be waking up any minute now. He might be a bit groggy but he would be awake nonetheless.

You’ve practically jumped out of your seat every other second since then each time you thought you saw movement. So far still nothing, but you’re hopeful it’ll be soon. You need it to be. You promised Clay’s mom you’d look after him, and you don’t plan on breaking that promise anytime soon.

Sighing, you get up from your spot in the chair next to Clay’s bed and instead take a seat to the left of him, your hip brushing his blanket covered thigh as you try not to fall off the side.

He looks peaceful as he lays there sleeping. So innocent from all the horrors that went on while he was in surgery. You dread the moment you’ll have to fill him in on all that happened. When you’ll have to tell him his mom—the woman he loves so dearly—is dead.

Emotion floods you and you try not to let it take you over. Instead you reach forward and grab Clay’s right hand in yours. His skin is warm and soft under your touch and you find comfort in it. You hope that when he does wake up, he’ll find comfort in yours too.

Rubbing your thumb back and forth over Clay’s knuckles, you look over at the EKG machine he’s hooked up to. His heart rate is steady, strong. You’re glad he made it out of the surgery, it’s rare people make it out of one transplant, yet alone two on the same day. Clay’s strong, you know he’ll get through this. He has to. His mom died to save his life and you don’t know a worse tragedy than one where neither one of them makes it out of this. The thought alone—

Your head snaps forward instantly. You wait a second and when it happens again you know you’re not just imagining it.

Clay’s hand squeezed yours. Twice!

Leaning forward, you watch as Clay’s eyes shift back and forth under his eyelids before finally, finally, they open. Immediately you’re met with two pale blue eyes.

He’s awake.

“Clay,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him. His eyes quickly find yours and you smile as you feel him squeeze your hand again. “Hey there. You’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay.”

Clay tilts his head to the side and you watch as he feebly attempts to sit up, no doubt trying to get some water. He winces and gives up immediately. You know that pain all too well.

“I got it, it’s okay. Don’t move.” Reaching over, you grab the small cup of water you poured a bit earlier incase Clay wanted it when he woke up. You hold the straw for him and bring it forward, allowing him to take a few sips. He tilts his head back when he’s done and you place the cup back on his bedside table.

“Thank you,” he croaks out, his voice raspier than normal. Even though you figured that would be the case, the deeper sound still takes you by surprise. You try not to take enjoyment in the sound, all things considered.

The blonde clears his throat and reality hits you as you realize you’ll now have to do the thing you’ve been dreading; telling Clay everything. You’re not sure where to begin, but you figure the beginning is probably the best place to start.

“Clay,” you say, uneasiness already settling in your voice. “I have to tell you something.”

A beat passes and as you go to continue, Clay beats you to it. “My mother is dead.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “How-How do you know that?”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath before saying, “I know everything. About Jack, Puttnam, and Penny. About-About Sam.” Pain crosses Clay’s features, but you’d bet anything that this time it isn’t physical. “When I was under, I wasn’t actually asleep. I don’t know how to describe it other than saying it was an out of body experience. I saw everything, heard everything, felt everything.”

“Oh, Clay,” you sigh, your heart breaking at his words. Immediately you know what he’s referring to. Intraoperative awareness is rare, and to think Clay was experiencing it during one of the worst possible surgeries and during one of the worst possible times absolutely blows your mind. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“What do you remember last?” You ask him. You don’t want to push Clay, but you need to know if there’s any gaps you need to fill in for him. Does he know he’s safe? Does he know everyone who tried to hurt him last night is never going to get near him again?

“The last thing I remember is talking to my mother,” he says it almost as a whisper and the sound nearly brings tears to your eyes. “She told me what she did, what she asked you to do. I get why she did it, but God, I just—“

Clay cuts himself off, tears beginning to fall from his eyes and down his pale cheeks. The sight tears you in two and causes tears of your own to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Clay.” Your voice cracks, the ability to hide any emotion completely disappearing. You reach out and brush away some of Clay’s tears with your thumb. The man practically melts into your touch and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to just wrap him in your arms and tell him it’s all gonna be okay.

“Did the cops catch them all, at least?” There’s resentment in his tone that you don’t blame him for at all. You can’t even begin to imagine the betrayal he must feel right now.

“Every single one of them. They’re all on their way to the station right now if they’re not already there. The evidence is solid, they’re never gonna see the light of day again and if they do it’ll be when they’re old and gray. You’re safe, Clay. I promise you that.”

The businessman nods his head and you can see him relax a little bit more. Silence settles over the two of you again, but it’s comfortable. Clay has also retaken ahold of your hand and this time he’s the one rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Even though he’s the one that’s been through hell, he’s trying to comfort you. The thought makes you chuckle lightly and Clay smiles at the sound.

“Before all the doctors and cops realize I’m awake and start flooding in, I just wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry.” The blue-eyed man looks at you sincerely and you find yourself trying to hold back a frown.

“Clay, you don’t have to thank me for anything, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no control over what happened to you, over what these people did to you and your family.”

“I know, but you also didn’t have to get wrapped up in it. I should never have asked you to stay earlier. You were going home and I should’ve respected that and let you go. And my mother asking you to look after me? It’s too much, you don’t deserve—“

“Clay Beresford, stop it right now. Don’t you dare feel guilty about anything. No one forced me to stay here and no one forced me to accept what your mother was asking of me. I did it all on my own. The first time we spoke I told you that no matter what I’d be here for you, in whatever way you may need me, and I meant that. No matter what happened or no matter what will happen, I’m here for you and I don’t want you to ever feel like that’s a burden on me. That you’re a burden on me. We met for a reason and even though what’s happened after that is horrible, I will never take that for granted. I care about you, Clay, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Clay just lays there and smiles up at you, reveling in the passionate look on your face and in your eyes. He saw it yesterday when you guys met and talked about his fears and thoughts on the surgery. He admires your ability to speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and how you feel. People like you are rare to him, and he feels incredibly lucky to have found you.

“You don’t know how badly I wish I could hug you right now.” The two of you burst into laughter but Clay’s laughs are suddenly cut short when he groans at the ache in his chest. “Ugh, I’m definitely not gonna get used to that.”

You try to tame your laughter, not wanting to trigger Clay to start laughing and hurt himself again. “Trust me when I say it’ll get better…eventually.”

Clay smirks before sighing, his eyes finding yours. “Seriously, though. Thank you for everything. I can’t imagine not having you by my side right now or what would’ve happened if I didn’t have that conversation with you yesterday. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, no matter how little time we’ve known each other.”

Heat rises up your neck and into your cheeks at his kind words. To think this is where you’ve found yourself when you didn’t even personally know this man twenty-four hours ago. It’s funny how life works sometimes. “You’re welcome, Clay. I appreciate you too.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door and not a second later Dr. Neyers walks in, clipboard in hand. “Good morning, Clayton. We have a lot to discuss.”

Clay nods his head and the two of you share a look. Clay would never say it, but you know he thinks it’s best if he handles this part on his own. He and Neyers have a lot to go over and you’re sure the officers that were walking around the hall earlier will be in to speak with him soon as well. You’ll be here when he needs you, though. You always will.

“I’m gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. I’ll be back, but call me if you need me.” Clay nods his head and you quickly grab his cellphone from the table before placing it next to his hand. That way he won’t have to try and reach for it if he does need you before you get back.

Dr. Neyers gives you a small smile before you walk out of the room and close the door behind you. The click of the door handle fills the silence of the empty hallway and you find yourself grateful for it. You were worried your coworkers would be standing around waiting for any and all updates on Clay, and more specifically you and Clay.

When you were making your way to Clay’s room after the surgery, you caught a few of the nurses and other residents whispering to each other in the hall, no doubt trying to figure out why you’re suddenly involved in Clay’s case. You definitely can’t wait to see what the story is when you come back to work tomorrow. This hospital sure is gossipy.

The walk to the cafeteria is peaceful, though, and that’s only broken when your phone starts buzzing in your bag. You reach in and grab it and nearly laugh out loud at the message on your screen.

Jill:

Umm why did I just overhear people talking about you being here all night with Clay!? What happened, is he okay??? And why are there cops all over the place??? Fill me in on everything!!!

Oh, God, you think. Where do I even begin?