#it was stuck in my head and needed to get out
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riveredmoon · 2 days ago
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cheater gojo watching your friend, geto, fuck you. based on this song.
warnings: mdni - smut: piv, doggy, voyeursism(?)
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“how did you cheat on a pussy this sweet?”
suguru’s voice rolls from behind you, smooth and teasing. your hands are grabbing at the sheets, knees spread, thighs shaking.
your soaked cunt clenches around his cock, milking him with every ruthless thrust. his hips slam into you — obscene sounds fill the room; your plush ass slamming back on him, your moans, and satoru’s restraint slipping away. suguru pounds into you fast and relentless, like he’s more pissed about the cheating than you ever were.
“be sure you watch this ‘toru,” suguru mutters with a chuckle as he yanks your hair, bringing your back to his chest. “watch how well she takes my cock.”
“fuck,” you softly groan. you fuck yourself back on his cock, chasing him with every pullout. its desperate, needy, messy.
one of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other pinching your nipples until you whimper. your hands clawing on his forearm, trying to ground yourself.
you arch your back, allowing his cock to reach deeper. the mushroom tip of his cock hitting exactly where you need it too.
your eyes meet satoru’s — flushed pink, lips bitten raw, frosty hair plastered on his forehead, cerulean eyes pinched into slits. his hands are twitching on his lap, like they don’t know whether they should stroke his cock or crawl over to you.
if suguru wasn’t stuffing you full, you might have giggled at the view. instead, you send a smug smile as you moan. satoru’s eyes narrow even more and drop down to where suguru’s cock enters your wet pussy.
“he never fucked you right, did he?” suguru whispers loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. one of his fingers roughly pulling at your nipple, you bite your lip to hold back your moan.
suguru pulls your hair back just a tiny bit more, your arch deepening — angling you just right. he ruts into you deeper, you slick trailing along his cock.
you shake your head, eyes still on satoru. your orgasm coils right in your gut, sharp and fast. thighs trembling, cunt fluttering around his cock — begging him to stay.
satoru’s hands are practically shaking, balled up in fists right on his thick thighs.
“n-no.” you send a wink his way and watch him swallow the lump in his throat down.
your pussy is a mess, wet and noisy meeting every thrusts that suguru sends your way. his cock hitting that spongey spot deep inside, over and over.
you could barely breathe, can’t really think — just incoherent babbles slipping from your lips. your eyes stuck on satoru as you watch him bite his knuckles. his other hand finally grabbing at his cock through his pants.
suguru’s thrusts start to slow down and you watch as satoru’s breathing slows. relief washing over him, thinking that this is the end.
“tell him that,” he sneers. you gasp when he slams back into you with one rough thrust. thick and mean. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, pounding into you faster, angrier.
“y-you never fucked me r-right,” you practically whimper, your head lolling to the side — trusting suguru to hold it upright.
“good girl,” his hold on your hair loosens and you fall forward. your chest hitting the bed below.
suguru’s thrusts doesn’t let up. you ass bouncing with every thrust — skin slapping skin echoing in the room.
“let me touch you,” satoru whispers into the room. his voice is flat and whiney.
you send a grin his way when you look up and notice he’s fished his cock out his pants. his face distorted in anger, his knuckles flushed white as slowly strokes his cock. his thumb running over his tip, spreading his pre cum.
“nah,” suguru barks out a laugh. “fuck into your hand satoru, because you’re not getting this pussy again.”
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thank you @satorus-princess & @sugurusladyknightt for reading my first little draft :)
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thatonegrimm · 2 days ago
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Heyyy
Can you do saja boys x idol reader
Finding out she has toxic manager forcing her on diet and doesn't take any breaks
Thank yewwwww, 🩷🩷
Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy it! 💌
🌙Saja Boys x Idol!Reader —Toxic Manager
You tried to hide it. The skipped meals. The forced smiles. The exhaustion. But the moment they saw the cracks, it was over.
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🧿 Jinu
He noticed it in the way your hands trembled when you lifted your chopsticks.
And the way you smiled too quickly when someone asked if you’d eaten.
Later, backstage, he caught you alone, sitting with your head in your hands.
He didn’t say anything at first.
Just walked over, crouched beside you, and offered you a steamed bun from his coat pocket.
You stared at it. “My manager—”
“Doesn’t get to starve you,” he interrupted gently, but firmly.
You blinked. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried weight.
“I read the rider in your contract,” he said quietly. “And I saw the messages. The ones you delete before I can read them.”
You looked away, guilt rising.
But he just nudged the bun into your hands.
“You don’t need to ask permission to eat,” he murmured. “You don’t owe anyone your body.”
You nodded, eyes wet.
“And if they push you again,” he added, “let me know.”
Because Jinu never made threats.
But when he said that, the air around him shifted.
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💪 Abby
He found out from a stylist who mentioned it offhand.
“Her manager said no water until she finishes the shoot.”
Abby froze mid-stretch.
“...No water?”
That night, he showed up at your dorm with three bags—home-cooked food, electrolyte drinks, and a tub of body wipes.
You blinked. “Abby—”
“Sit,” he said firmly. “Eat. Hydrate. No arguing.”
You hesitated.
“I’m serious,” he added, gently pushing a spoon into your hand. “You’ve been running on fumes. I can see it.”
You stared at the food, then at him, overwhelmed.
He softened.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said. “I’m mad they treat you like this.”
Then he looked at you—earnest, strong, warm.
“You’re not a product. You’re a person. And I’m gonna remind you of that until it sticks.”
And he did.
Every time he saw you.
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📚 Mystery
He noticed it during rehearsal.
The way you swayed between moves. The way your lips moved silently, counting under your breath like it was the only thing holding you upright.
When everyone cleared out for a break, you didn’t sit.
So he did something rare.
He walked over, took your hand, and led you outside. No words.
You didn’t resist.
You ended up on the rooftop, cool wind in your face.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked simply.
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
Then quietly, “Manager says I need to slim down for the comeback.”
He nodded once.
Then said, “He’s wrong.”
You blinked at him.
“I see everything,” he murmured. “Your effort. Your exhaustion. You shine without shrinking.”
Then he passed you a protein bar.
He didn’t force it. Didn’t beg.
But when you ate it, he didn’t stop watching.
And later that night, you found out your schedule had been mysteriously cleared for the next 48 hours.
Mystery never admitted how.
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💋 Romance
He caught you skipping dinner after a shoot.
You gave him a quick, airy excuse. “I’m fine, I swear. I’ll just grab something later—”
“Nope,” he said, twirling a fork and setting it in front of you. “Sit your pretty self down.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing weakly. “You don’t understand, my manager’s watching—”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He leaned in. “I do understand.”
His smile dropped.
“I know that kind of pressure. I know what it does to people.”
You stilled.
“I’ve seen it steal joy. I’ve watched people starve their shine to keep someone else happy.”
He looked at you like he saw you.
“You don’t owe anyone a version of you that hurts.”
You said nothing.
So he fed you a bite of pasta.
Then another.
“You’re my favorite idol,” he whispered. “Not because of what you look like. But because of the way you burn.”
And that stuck with you longer than the meal.
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🔥 Baby
You didn’t realize he overheard your phone call.
Didn’t realize he was behind the door, frozen, listening to your manager berate you for “looking puffy” in the last stage photos.
You turned to find him standing there.
His jaw clenched.
“What did he just say to you?”
You flinched. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just—”
“No.”
He walked past you, straight to your phone, and grabbed it.
“Baby—wait—”
He turned on the camera and stared straight into the lens. Hit record.
“Hey. This is Baby. Of Saja Boys. And if I ever catch you talking to her like that again, I’m going to find a way to make you regret it. Professionally. Permanently. Capisce?”
He ended the video and texted it to the manager himself.
You stood there, stunned.
He turned to you. “If they fire you, I’ll hire you.”
“You don’t even run a company.”
“I’ll start one.”
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M-List
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butyoudidthis4what · 1 day ago
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She's Here Part 2
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader
Find Part 1 here!
28.8k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: age gap relationship but gap unspecified; teasing Robby about his age; arguing; discussion of/about sex; allusion to PIV and oral sex; implied protected PIV sex; allusion to Robby having a breeding kink; reader was punched (no real description); potentially incorrect medical procedures and recovery; blood; seizures; passing mentions of stitches and staples; brief slightly graphic medical description; brain surgery; TBI and effects thereof; facial fracture; discussion of PittFest; discussion of what happened to Leah and Adamson; compartmentalization; regret; discussions of death/dying/coding; anxiety; heavy emotional angst; crying; alcohol; grief; active suicide risk Robby; suicidal ideation; depression; anger and irritability (at times intense) as depression symptoms and manifestations; a detective shows up very briefly; no use of yn or related
Series Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed him and doesn't react well.
AN: Thank you for all of your support on Part 1 and your patience waiting for me to get this out!! I truly appreciate it. I'm kind of nervous about this one but not really sure why. I hope you enjoy and it was worth the wait! And thank you so much for reading!!
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“Robby I have to go, but just get here as quickly as you fucking can, okay?” 
Robby isn’t able to get anything out before Jack hangs up. He knows he needs to move, needs to start running back to the hospital but he’s stuck standing in your apartment with tears streaming down his face. 
Adamson. Leah. And now you. Another name on the list of people he’s killed on this date. 
Because Robby is sure you’re not going to be alive when he gets to the hospital. Or that if you are it won’t be for long. Even after he broke your heart and got you killed he could see you trying to be nice to him and waiting to die until tomorrow but he’s not sure he wants that. 
Robby’s eyes roam your kitchen to your fridge. You have a strip of photobooth photos of the two of you hanging up with a magnet. You look so happy. He looks so happy. You both look so in love, even if you hadn’t said it yet. It brings him back down and he realizes he has to go, he needs to try and get to the hospital in time to either help save you or say goodbye to you. 
He walks quickly back to your front door and locks it before running down the stairs and back out onto the street where he starts sprinting again. He takes every shortcut he knows, anything to shave off even just a couple of seconds. The adrenaline coursing through him is giving him the ability to keep up his sprint and he knows when that adrenaline crashes, it’s going to crash hard. 
There’s the briefest second of relief when he finally sees the ambulance bay doors. He’s almost to you. 
He comes running in through the doors looking for you or for Jack. “Where is she?” Robby yells the second his eyes find Jack on the opposite side of the hub.
Jack’s head snaps in Robby’s direction like he’s been here waiting for Robby. He starts to walk toward Robby who has lessened from a sprint to a partial run. Jack holds his hands up and steps in front of Robby, putting his hands on Robby’s chest to catch and slow Robby down for a few seconds before removing them.
Robby thinks he might be sick. Because Jack isn’t working on you. And Jack isn’t greeting him with a reassuring ‘she’s alive.’ And Jack isn’t leading him toward a trauma room or toward the elevators to go up to an ICU or OR or whatever other floor but off to the side toward one of the more secluded empty rooms. And everyone is looking at him not with hope but with sympathy that feels more like pity. 
“Jack. Please.” He can’t even begin to try and catch his breath. “Please don’t take me into some room and tell me she’s dead. Please.” His voice breaks on the last please, a prayer and a plea to his best friend to not fucking do this to him. 
Jack shakes his head. “She’s alive. I’m not taking you to any room to tell you she’s dead. I just didn’t think you’d want to do this in front of everyone.” Robby lets out a barely muffled sob of relief. “She’s up with neuro. Dana’s in observation. She’s not alone okay? But it’s ba-”
“Brain surgery? Oh jesus fucking christ.” Robby takes off for the elevator, Jack right behind him. “I need to see her.” 
“Robby, hey,” Jack tries to get his attention as he presses the elevator call button over and over. “Are you sure you want to see her like that?”
“Yes.” There’s no real thought to it. Because to Robby it’s not even a question. The doors open and the two step in, Jack hitting the button for the right floor and then the door closed button. “What are her injuries?”
Jack pauses for a second. “It’s bad, Robby.” 
Robby’s stomach twists again. He knows what it means when Jack says something is bad because of how rarely he uses it. For Jack, bad is the worst. 
The elevator arrives at their floor and they both step out, Jack pulling Robby over to the side of the hallway with him. Jack lets out a breath. “Longitudinal basilar skull fracture, depressed skull fracture along her left parietal and temporal. Massive subdural hematoma, easily the biggest I’ve ever seen on a patient. Tripod fracture on the right.”
Robby shakes his head at Jack, more adrenaline pouring into his system and making him shake a little. It feels like he can’t breathe. “What else?” he whispers.
“Scrapes and bruises, nasal fracture. Cut on her face that I’ve made sure Plastics will stitch.” Jack gives Robby a couple of seconds to take it all in before nodding in the direction of the observation room for your OR. “Come on.”
They finish the short walk to the door and Jack opens it, walks in after Robby. 
“Hey,” Dana says softly as she stands and approaches Robby to give him a hug. “She’s hanging in there.” 
Robby barely hugs Dana back, too focused on looking at you. Because seeing you, seeing you in that chair with your head bolted into place, intubated, face already incredibly swollen and bruised, seeing you makes it all too real. “Oh my god,” Robby whispers. “Oh my fucking god.”
“I know,” Dana murmurs, standing next to him and rubbing his back. 
“I…She…” Robby shakes his head and swallows hard. He has to turn around and he hates himself for it, feels like he’s abandoning you once again but he just can’t. He lets out a half-broken sob as he puts his face in his hands. 
“Sit down, yeah?” Dana leads Robby over to one of the seats while Jack turns the monitors and speaker off so Robby doesn’t have to see it up close or hear it. 
“How long has she been in surgery?” Robby whispers after a minute, dropping his hands in his lap and sniffling. 
“She went up a minute or so after I hung up,” Jack tells him. 
Dana takes the seat next to Robby. “They’ve evacuated about half of the hematoma.” 
Robby gets dizzy at that. The hematoma he just saw on your brain was still huge. He figured you hadn’t been up here that long and they were just getting started. “That was half of it?” 
Neither Dana nor Jack say anything. There’s not much to say at this point. Like Jack said. It’s bad. 
Robby wipes away a few tears and can almost feel the wall his mind builds around him and everything growing numb. “What was her GCS?” He watches Dana and Jack look at each other, neither answering. “That bad?”
“It wasn’t great,” Jack says slowly. “We burr holed her downstairs and once we got the ICP down her GCS came back up. Then I called you and while I was talking to you she seized and her GCS dropped again.”
He just nods. He doesn’t push for the actual numbers. They don’t really matter right now anyway. Robby doesn’t know if five minutes or five hours pass as he sits there, lost in his head and wishing he could just go to sleep and wake up and have you in bed next to him and none of this be real. He’s not even fully aware of Dana squeezing his shoulder and slipping out of the room. He’s stuck in his thoughts, replaying all of your best moments together and then him breaking up with you in that supply closet, over and over and over. 
It’s only been six or so minutes of Robby lost to his thoughts when he finally pulls himself free enough to look at Jack. “What happened?” 
Jack sighs and takes a seat, leaves one chair in between him and Robby. “Not super clear. Based on her injuries and where she was found it looks like she got punched from the side and fell and hit her head on the curb. Mugging probably, she was missing her backpack and phone.”
“How long was she down?” Robby mumbles.
“Don’t know.” Jack shakes his head. “A while I would guess. Her body was hidden by a car to anyone driving by and where she was found isn’t a heavy pedestrian street at night.”
“Where was she?” You couldn’t have been on your way home, Robby would’ve seen you while running there. Unless you’d already been picked up. 
“Paramedics said she was about a block west up and a hundred feet or so down from Harry’s bodega.” Jack tells him. “I don’t know, obviously, but it feels like she was trying to get to a busier street to walk on.”
Robby nods. The two settle back into silence. Robby can hardly fathom you just laying there on the sidewalk growing closer and closer to death all alone. He wonders how long you were conscious for. If hitting your head on the curb knocked you out or if you had to lay there knowing what was slowly happening to you, if you had to watch them take your backpack and feel in your pockets for your phone. 
That line of thought brings Robby to a natural worry. What if whoever it was hurt you even worse? What if taking your backpack and phone wasn’t enough? He almost gags at how hard the nausea hits again. “Jack. Was she…” Robby looks at Jack with a horrified expression. He can’t bring himself to finish the question, to say the words, but Jack knows immediately. 
“No,” Jack shakes his head emphatically, “Dana checked. There were absolutely no signs. And the paramedics said her clothes looked normal, not like someone had tried to put them back on an unconscious body.”
Some relief floods Robby’s system at that news. “How the fuck-” Robby presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How did she even end up here? We should’ve been closed to trauma.”
“Paramedics recognized her,” Jack says quietly, “knew she needed to come here regardless of our status.” 
Robby doesn’t respond, just shakes his head a little and closes his eyes again. He keeps praying he’s going to wake up and this entire day will have just been a horrible nightmare but he knows he won’t. He knows this is his reality. He knows what he lost. 
“I killed her,” he whispers, just loud enough for Jack to hear. “I killed Adamson, and then I killed Leah, and now I’ve killed her.” Robby swallows down a sob. “I killed them all and I killed her after I broke her heart for no reason, and I don’t know what to do with that, how to, how to… This is my fault Jack.”
“Robby,” Jack lets out a breath as he looks over at him, “I love you brother, but you are not god. You didn’t kill Adamson. You didn’t kill Leah. You didn’t kill her. She’s still alive and we don’t know if she’s going to die. The world is fucked up Robby. Fucked up things happen. Disease and violence happen. I get why you feel like all of those things are your fault but they’re not.”
He shakes his head at Jack and looks back down at his lap. Jack just doesn’t understand, can’t see it. Maybe Jack does and is just lying to him as his friend trying to make him feel better. Because it’s hard for Robby to believe Jack that he isn’t to blame. Especially about you. If he hadn’t broken up with you then you wouldn’t have left and you wouldn’t have been assaulted. But he did break up with you.
Robby replays the night in his head again. He gets to being on the roof with Jack and realizes that Jack let you leave. You told Jack you were leaving and he didn’t stop you. Robby knows his thoughts are wrong and that Jack has no responsibility for any of this, but Robby needs someone to be angry at if he can’t be angry at himself. 
“Why’d you let her leave?” Robby spits the question venomously. 
“Excuse me?” Jack raises his eyebrows at Robby.
“Why’d you let her fucking leave?” He glares at Jack. 
“I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown adult and an attending whose shift was well over. We didn’t need her anymore. So she left.” Jack stares back at him, seemingly unperturbed by Robby’s glare. 
“Well if you asked her to stay until after that debrief maybe she wouldn’t have left and I could have talked to her-”
“No, Robby.” Jack shakes his head. “I understand you’re grieving and deeply upset and a lot of horrible fucking things have happened today, but you do not get to blame me for this just because I’m trying to stop you from blaming yourself.” 
Robby looks away from him again and is quiet. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he whispers. 
“It’s okay, I get it.” Jack reaches over and squeezes Robby’s shoulder. “You know I do,” he whispers. 
“She’s not going to wake up is she Jack?” Robby slowly looks over at Jack with tears streaming down his face as the numbness he’d gotten himself to starts to fade and he’s left with overwhelming grief and sorrow. 
Jack’s quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t know, Robby. She’s young. That’s heavily in her favor with all of this. We got the swelling and pressure down quickly once she got here.” 
“Yeah,” Robby huffs, “but who the fuck knows how long she was out there. It had to have been at least an hour if not closer to two. That’s a long fucking time to have blood on the brain and a high ICP, Jack.”
“It’s hard to know Robby. It’s hard to know how long and if the bleeding and swelling started immediately or if it took time to come on or what.” Jack nods slowly. “But we both know she’s stubborn and a fighter.” 
Robby scoffs. It’s at himself and not Jack’s admittedly correct observation about you. “She doesn’t think she has anything left to fight for.”
“Yes she does. She knows she does.” Jack looks like he’s debating whether to say more. 
“What?”
Jack lets out a breath. “When her GCS came up, before we intubated her, she started repeating your name. Michael. So I think she knows she has a lot to fight for. Has you to fight for.”
The thought slams into Robby. You were saying his name. That’s the word your injured brain came up with. His name. His fucking name. Michael. 
Robby’s phone buzzing in his pocket distracts him from his thoughts for a few seconds. He goes to pull it out of his pocket but stops as the realization hits him. “She called me Jack, she called me. Right after I spoke with everyone, she called me. Twice.” He stands up and starts pacing the length of the room. “She might have been trying to get to a busier street like you said because maybe she was being followed or something and she knew she was in danger and that’s why she called me. For help. And I, I sent her straight to voicemail and then just let it ring. I ignored her. I ignored her.”  
“You don’t know that Robby,” Jack shakes his head, “I know it’s hard but you have to try not to let yourself go there. She could’ve been calling you for any number of reasons.”
“No, Jack.” Robby stops pacing near the wall at the far side of the room from Jack. “We both know that she called for something related to what happened.” He can feel the adrenaline start to crash as he looks back down at you in surgery. “She called because she needed me and I wasn’t there.”
He’s thankful when Jack doesn’t try to argue with him on this one and just lets him have it. Robby focuses on watching what they’re doing to you while he thinks about you. How much he loves you, how perfect you are for him, how beautiful and smart you are, how lucky he is just to know you. And then another realization hits him. 
He never told you he loves you. 
The adrenaline crash finally hits him. Robby turns away from the window and steps backwards until he hits the wall and slides down it, just like he did in pedes earlier today. But this time you’re not coming to find him. You might never come to find him again. “I never told her I love her,” he manages to get out clearly enough for Jack to hear before he starts sobbing and slips into a total breakdown, finally letting himself sob freely even more than in pedes earlier. Robby breaks all the way down, comes completely unglued because he can’t get the grief and hurt out fast enough, and what he does get out is immediately replaced. 
“She knows,” Jack says quietly as he sits next to Robby and leans back against the wall. 
Robby lets himself lean against Jack a bit just to feel someone else even though he doesn’t think he deserves any comfort from anyone. This is all his fault. He made this bed and now he has to lay in it. “I never told her Jack, she’ll never get to hear it from me, I’ll never know she heard it,” Robby chokes out between sobs over and over. “I never told her I love her.”
The two sit there until Robby cries himself out and for a bit longer after while Robby tries to pull himself together. By the time they get up you’re out of surgery and settled in a room in the neuro-ICU. 
“Dana and I will be downstairs. Call or text if you need anything,” Jack tells Robby as they stand outside your room.
Robby nods distractedly at Jack. “Yeah thanks,” he mumbles as Jack walks away.
He forces himself to open the door to your room and step in, closing the door behind him and walking towards your bed. “Oh god, Kid,” Robby lets out through a shuddery breath as he gets close enough to really see you. He saw you from a distance in the OR but that was nothing compared to seeing you close up.
The bruising and swelling is some of the worst Robby has ever seen and it’s you. They stitched your cheek well. Your incision looks good too all things considered, the drain they left in isn’t too full. You’re intubated, hooked up to more monitors and drugs than Robby cares to look at right now. But this is you. Robby is looking at you and seeing all of this. This is you. 
He thought he had truly cried himself out, that he didn’t have any tears left but somehow more find him. “I’m so sorry,” he sniffles as he pulls a chair over close to your bed and sits in it. He takes your hand so gently, holding it between both of his like he’s holding the thinnest piece of glass that’s waiting to be broken. Robby rests his forehead on the back of his top hand as he lets more tears fall. “I’m so sorry for everything, I love you so much and I need you to come back to me.” 
Robby pulls his head back up to look at you, finally lets himself squeeze your hand a little. “I need you. I really fucking need you, Kid. So please. Please come back,” he hiccups out, close to giving into his sobs once more. 
He tries to think back on what you look like normally, when you’re not this bruised and swollen and don’t have stitches or partially shaved hair or an incision on your scalp or a drain. The only image Robby’s brain will conjure up for him is the expression on your face in the supply closet earlier today. How the more he spoke the more upset you became, how the sadness and heartbreak took over all of your features, how your tears slid down your cheeks and your lips trembled. 
It’s all he can see and it triggers that memory to start playing again. Him breaking up with you in that supply closet. Him being needlessly mean. Him refusing to listen to you. And it hits him like so many other realizations have tonight. What’s likely to be the last thing he ever said to you.
No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.
Robby holds your hand against the side of his face as he rests his head on your thigh and lets himself sob again. Because what the fuck else is he supposed to do. 
A couple of days pass. They’re able to wean you off the ventilator so you’re breathing on your own now and you’ve been stable the entire time. Robby knows how good that is, how good of a sign it is. But it’s hard for him to appreciate when you’re still unconscious and not really here with him. He wants to talk to you. Tell you that he loves you and he’s sorry. He wants to work it all out, to have you forgive him and get better and go home with him and get engaged and married and grow old together. He says it to you over and over, to your unconscious form. But that’s not the same. He doesn’t know if you’re hearing him. 
Time passes slowly. He reads on his phone sometimes. Jack and Dana come to visit frequently and most of the ED has stopped by for at least a couple of minutes by now so that breaks up the days a bit. 
But Robby’s pretty sure he spends most of his days just watching you and replaying your last day together over and over in his head. Ruminating on what might be the last thing he ever said to you. No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you. Ruminating on how sad and destroyed you looked.
The buzzing of his phone pulls him from his thoughts. 
D - Can I get you anything? Coffee or water?
He’s been given multiple cups of coffee over the last couple of days. Nobody has asked. They’ve just brought him cups figuring he needed it or that it would be some small gesture of comfort. He didn’t think much of it. But seeing the word in Dana’s text makes the memory hit him hard.
That coffee. That fucking coffee he made that morning that lead to him accidentally hurting you and the two of you having a little tiff. And he used the coffee as an excuse to say no and now he might have turned down his last chance to ever be intimate with you, to ever be that close to and with you. 
And that coffee is still sitting there. The mug he poured himself and the carafe. He has to go home to it. It’ll be sitting there waiting and ready to taunt him when he has to walk in his front door without you. Without you in his life. Without you in the world. With you in the morgue. 
Robby isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to drink coffee again. 
He doesn’t reply to Dana immediately. Can’t bring himself to. Robby puts his phone back in his pocket and looks at you. Your fingers moving catches his eye and he stands, heart rate speeding up as he watches you open and close your hands. 
“Kid?” He grabs your hand and wraps it in a fist around two of his fingers. “Can you open your eyes for me? Or squeeze my hand?” You do neither and Robby’s heart sinks. But he keeps talking to you, keeps trying to coax you back to him. 
A few minutes pass and Robby wants to sob with joy for once when you flutter your eyes open. Everything is too much. It’s too bright and too loud and god everything hurts. You think you might be sick. But as you adjust you finally start to really hear noise. It just kind of sounds like gibberish though, you don’t know what any of it means. You also realize you have no idea where you are or what happened and that scares you. Your eyes focus and you realize Robby is standing by you and crying, and while him crying worries you, you’re just relieved to see someone you recognize, someone who cares about you. 
“Mic-” You stop yourself and lick your lips before trying to speak again. Because for whatever reason that’s the memory that comes into your mind first. “Dr. Robinavitch.” His name is heavily slurred and difficult for you to force out, but Robby knows exactly what you’re saying. He knows you started to say Michael and caught yourself. 
So he knows that you remember. That some piece of you remembers what happened. He shakes his head at you and squeezes your hand. “Hey, Kid, no. No, please. You can call me Michael. Or Robby. Whatever you want, okay? I’ve been so worried about you.” 
Your eyes flutter shut as another wave of tears soaks Robby’s beard. A searing pain worse than anything you’ve ever felt before hits your head and you wince and groan as everything fades back to black. 
“Kid? What’s wrong? Stay with me, yeah?” But Robby knows by the way your body goes limp that you’re unconscious again. “Fuck,” he mutters. He knows that’s not unexpected, but he was really praying you would be one of the ones who just wake up and are fine. And he realizes he just had his opportunity. That the first words out of his mouth should have been that he loves you. But they weren’t, he didn’t say it at all. And now you’re unconscious again.
He lets go of your hand and steps away from your bed, planning on pacing a little as he texts Dana and Jack to let them know you woke up briefly. Robby doesn’t get the chance though. Because as soon as he pulls out his phone your intracranial pressure monitor alarm goes off and you start to seize. 
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Robby gives you one last lingering kiss before pulling out of you with a groan and falling onto his back beside you. He takes off the condom, ties it and tosses it in the trash before settling in next to you and pulling the sheet up and over you so that you don’t get cold. 
The two of you finally just had sex for the first time and Robby already knows your pussy is like a drug to him. He’s never going to be able to get enough, is constantly going to think about it. He bets your mouth will join it. 
His hand closest to you splays out over your tummy, something that feels, and is, protective and possessive. His other hand comes up to rest behind his head against his pillow. He knows he’s grinning like a love sick idiot. 
“I have a confession,” he says through soft pants as he continues to come back down. You can hear that love sick idiot grin in his voice.
“Oh yeah?” you sigh happily, still panting a little yourself.
“After that, I kind of really regret waiting until you were an attending,” he chuckles. There’s enough of a teasing lilt to his voice to know he’s not being completely serious, but some seriousness rings through. 
You scoff at him and grab your pillow under your head, turn onto your side as you hit him with it over his chest and stomach. 
“Hey!” He grabs the pillow from you as he turns on his side to face you. “What was that for? That’s just how good the sex was!” He gives you a look before giving you your pillow back. 
“That’s why you regret waiting until I was an attending? The sex. Just the sex?” You fake pout at him.“Not me in general? Dating me? Kissing me even? It took you until being inside of me to regret waiting?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. It was just a funny joke.” He smirks at you as you roll your eyes at him playfully. “You think the sex would be that good if the chemistry we have with our clothes on wasn’t here? If I didn’t love spending time with you and dating you and kissing you?” 
“You know, you never asked me if the sex was that good.” You smirk at him now. 
“Oh,” Robby laughs, leaning in and kissing you for a second and then letting his lips ghost yours. “You’re not really trying to tell me it wasn’t. Because I think the scratches on my back and how hard your pussy squeezed me when you came on my cock and how you were crying my name beg to differ.” 
You smile as you shiver a little at the memory. “I never said it wasn’t, I merely pointed out that you didn’t ask.” You give him another kiss. 
Robby pulls back and looks at you. “Was it good? Was it worth the wait?” He pauses for a second but then gets it out. “Was it better than with him?” The teasing nature of the first two questions gets watered down with the last. There’s some real insecurity there. Robby just knows the guy you went out with and slept with was fit and closer to your age. 
You smile at him fondly, run your hand up and down his side. “Better than I ever could’ve hoped to imagine, Michael, and trust me I did a lot of imagining over the last four years. So it was more than worth the wait.” You let your hand slide up his chest and neck and cup his face. “And yes, it was better than with him. Because you’re better in bed than him and because you care and because there’s something real here and because I’m more attracted to you. Which I think is something I’m just going to have to show you.” You can both see him blush and feel the heat coming off his cheeks under your hand. “I didn’t mean to ruin it and make you insecure. It was amazing. You were incredible. I’ve never had that good of sex and I’ve never been more attracted to and turned on by a man in my life. I promise.” 
Robby puts his hand over yours and smiles. “You didn’t ruin anything and believe me you weren’t what made me insecure. That’s all self-driven. I just know I’m older and my body is much… different.”
“It is yeah.” You nod, pull your hand from under his and run it down his neck and chest and tummy, lick your lips. “It’s much fucking better.”
He just laughs. “Whatever you say, Kid.” 
“Good, yes. Remember that. Make that your mantra.” You nod as you laugh with him. 
The two of you keep chatting as you wait for him to recover, waiting to be ready to go again. You’re planning on staying the night and neither of you work tomorrow or the next day so you have plenty of time to explore each other. The conversation eventually ends up turning to sex and likes and dislikes and would tries and wheres and whens. 
“How do you feel about shower sex?” You smile at him curiously. 
Robby lets out a soft chuckle. “I feel like I’ve been an emergency room physician too long and know better.” 
“So no?”
He lets out a breath. “It would really depend, but I really doubt it. Not penetrative sex at least. Oral… I think I could be persuaded quite easily.” 
“Oh, good to know.” You flick your eyebrows up at him suggestively. “Bathtub sex?” 
“Sounds great.” He nods. 
“Car sex?”
He lets out a small laugh that reflects the way your question took him a little by surprise. “It would depend on when and where exactly, I suppose. But not a categorical rule out by any means.” 
You make a face of consideration and nod before smirking at him because you know this one is going to pull a reaction. “On-call room sex?” 
“Ha!” Robby lets out a surprised laugh and thinks about for a second, a slight blush creeping up. “I mean I would never say never but I, I don’t know. It’s so, I don’t know. I don’t know.” 
You hum in acknowledgment. “Hospital roof sex?” 
He shakes his head at you and your questions but thinks about it for a second. “Maybe. At the right time. Maybe.”
“Quickie in someone’s bathroom?” 
“Depends.”
“Whiskey dick?” 
“Oh my god,” he laughs under his breath, turning his head into the pillow for a second as a deep blush creeps up his chest and neck to his cheeks. “Not that I can recall, but it’s been a bit since I’ve been inebriated and really tried to do anything.” 
“Okay, so we need to experiment with that. Got it,” you giggle. “Alcohol can make me a little slutty sometimes.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” He reaches out and pinches the side of your ass teasingly. “I’ve seen you get quite drunk before. More than once. I’ve even made sure you got home safely on more than one occasion.”
You grab his hand with yours so he can’t pinch you again. “True,” you sigh. “Such a noble gentleman not taking advantage of me. Not that I’d have minded.” You laugh and Robby just shakes his head at you as he smiles, the corners of his eye crinkling so perfectly. You sit there looking at each other in silence for a bit, your fingers playing with his absent-mindedly. “Remember celebrating my champagne tap?” 
“Of course,” he chuckles. “How could I ever forget the two of us sitting on the hospital roof drinking nice champagne straight out of the bottle with some stale cheez-its we scrounged from the breakroom?” 
“Oh god, those cheez-its were so fucking stale,” you laugh. 
“They were pretty fucking bad.” Robby pulls his hand from yours and cups your cheek this time, growing more serious. “I was so proud of you. First tap and zero red blood cells. I got you good champagne. Normally I just get something cheap. Don’t tell anyone.”
“And here I thought you got me good champagne because you liked me.” You smirk but it fades into a fond smile quickly. “That was one of the best days and best nights of my entire residency.” 
He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yeah?” You nod at him. “Why?” 
“I don’t know.” You shrug. You absolutely know, it’s just hard to explain. “I laughed so hard I cried several times that night. I left feeling human again. Like I was more than just an intern. And you did that. You made me feel like that. And earlier in the day, when we were on shift you made me feel like a doctor for the first time, and a good one at that. There’s not a ton of good vivid memories from residency, but I distinctly remember getting home and thinking how on that one day you’d made me feel like a real doctor for the first time ever and like a real person for the first time since at least before medical school.” 
You look a little misty eyed because it truly was a day and night that meant so much to you. You’ve wanted this man for so long and now that you have him you’re never letting him go. Robby looks at you with the softest smile and devoted eyes, the two of you sharing the moment. You break the silence with a soft chuckle. “If I hadn’t already been down hopelessly bad for you that sure would’ve done it.” 
He laughs through his nose at that, blushes a little. He just can’t believe you’ve wanted him as long as he’s wanted you. “That night is special for me too. It’s one of the best memories I have at the Pitt. Or in general, honestly.” 
“Yeah? Why?”
His answer comes quick but breathtaking in its admission and simplicity. “Because I was just myself and it was enough for you. And I’d never really had that before.” Both your and Robby’s eyes grow glassy. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. You know what he means. That it was easy and he could be unfiltered and himself and knew he wouldn’t be judged. 
“Michael,” you whisper. You take his hand from your cheek and kiss at his palm and the back of his hand and knuckles before squeezing it and looking at him. “You weren’t just enough, you were more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough. You always will be.” 
You scoot closer and press your bodies together as you kiss him, trying to pour into him how much more than enough he truly is for you. The two of you stay like that, just making out and being close until you have to pull away a bit for some air.
“We should share champagne and stale cheez-its on the roof together more often,” Robby teases, his arm winding around you. 
You smirk at him and raise your eyebrows. “Could do that before the hospital roof sex.” 
“Stop it.” He let out a fake groan and rolls his eyes playfully as he rolls you on your back and hovers over you.
Your smirk grows. “Make me.”
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Days pass. They turn into weeks. Weeks turn into a month. 
The seizure you had was due to a sudden spike in your ICP so they did a craniectomy, removed a piece of your skull to help relieve the pressure on your brain and accommodate the swelling. 
You’re not brain dead. You’re in a coma. You’ve been in a coma for over a month now. 
For 41 days. 
41 days without you. 
41 days Robby hasn’t been home. 
Because he can’t bring himself to go home. He can’t face that coffee. Can’t face all of your things that have made their way to his place over time. Can’t face walking in without you. 
Initially he had to fight to be able to stay overnight with you while you were in the neuro-ICU but he was one of the hospital’s own so it hadn’t been a particularly hard fight. Jack and Dana promised one of them would stay the night with you and convinced him to go to Jack’s place a few times to get some real sleep on a real bed. He managed to get one of the nicer cots brought to your room so it isn’t like he’s sleeping in a chair, but still, it’s a cot and he gets woken up during the night when your nurse comes in to check your vitals and look you over every couple of hours. 
He had Jack go to his place to get him clothes and toiletries and your shampoo and conditioner that was in his shower. He gave Jack specific instructions not to touch the coffee on the counter. He had to face that eventually. He had to be the one to deal with it. 
Having any of your stuff at the hospital felt wrong and like tempting fate but once you were cleared to have your head moved enough to deal with your hair, Robby started doing it for you every few days so that it didn’t get matted. He made sure to leave it in a style that would help prevent matting too. He also helped bathe you too, meticulously using a sponge to clean your skin so that when you woke up you wouldn’t feel gross.
There were at least some positives over the 41 days. You hadn’t had another seizure. As far as they could tell you had normal sensation in all your extremities. You had surgery to repair your tripod fracture on day 9 and it had gone fine. The swelling in your brain subsided and your ICP decreased and returned to normal so they were able to do a cranioplasty to put the piece of your skull they had removed back in and remove your drain on day 23. And on day 35 they were able to extubate you and you’ve been breathing fine on your own since then. 
Robby thought that was going to be the turning point. That you’d wake up soon after. But no. You haven’t. It’s getting harder and harder to believe that you will.
He’s still not drinking coffee. It’s either black tea or a Redbull he tries to pace drinking and not just chug. But sometimes he does because the heart palpitations caused by 111 mg of caffeine hitting his system all at once give him something physical to really feel. Something other than the nausea and the tension making him ache all over and pop a concerning amount of ibuprofen.
He listened to Dana. Somewhere around day 10 she told him that he might want to think about going back to work, to save his time off. And so Robby forced himself to go back to work on day 15. He knew she was right, that he’d want the time off when you woke up and really needed him. 
If you woke up.
If you needed him. 
Robby’s still terrified you’re going to wake up and tell him to get out. That he broke up with you and made that bed and he has to go lay in it. That what happened to you doesn’t change anything. That you’ll find other people to help you. He spends just about all of his free time with you despite his worries, only excepting the few times he’s gone to Jack’s to sleep. He has to. He loves you and doesn’t know how to exist in the world without you and this is the only way he can have you right now. 
He also listened to Jack and started therapy. If he’s honest with himself he knows it’s already helping. He can already feel the difference in how he thinks and feels and interacts. Jack and Dana have both commented on it. He’s ready for you to wake up and hopefully see and feel the difference, see that he’s not just willing to work on himself but that he’s actually doing it. He hopes it’ll help you forgive him. 
Robby’s off today so he’s sitting in his chair beside you in your room like he normally does, plays with your fingers absentmindedly as he reads out loud for the both of you. At first he thinks it’s just him imagining things again, because god knows he’s imagined your fingers twitching against his and your hand squeezing his more than once or twice over the last 41 days. 
He always checks though, he always has to. Just in case it’s real. He lets go of your fingers and rests them on the bed. And this is that just in case. Because it’s real. Your fingers are moving.
“Hey.” Robby stands up and leans over you, brushes his thumb over your forehead lightly and takes your hand back, squeezes it. “Can you open your eyes for me, Kid?” 
You don’t, but your fingers twitch in his hand again and he’s sure he can see your eyes moving under your eyelids. He looks over you and sees your other hand moving, your feet too. 
“Come back to me, Kid, yeah?” Robby puts his hand in yours gently. “Can you squeeze my hand? Try for me, hm?”
There’s nothing for a second but then he feels you try to. It’s undoubtedly incredibly weak but it’s still following a command. “That was so good Kid,” Robby praises you, already getting a little teary. “Try to come back to me. Follow my voice.”
Your head moves a little but quickly stills, face pulling up in a slight grimace. “Can you make a fist with your other hand?” He’s desperate for you to open your eyes and talk to him again, but he’ll take this, take you following commands, take knowing you’re in there. 
Robby knows that even if you do open your eyes, there’s no guarantees. No guarantees you’ll recognize him or be able to speak or that your personality will be the same or that you’ll be cognitively the same. But you’ll be awake. He’ll be able to look in your eyes again. 
There’s a little delay again but he watches as you do your best to make your other hand a fist. You don’t get particularly close to an actual fist but you very clearly are trying, are responding to his command. Robby knows he should call your nurse so she can page your doctor but he’s worried if more people come in and you get overwhelmed you’ll stop. 
“Good job, Kid,” he murmurs, squeezing your other hand a little. He lets it go and walks down to the end of your bed, pulls the blankets up a little so your feet are free. “Can you press down with your feet? Like you’re pushing the accelerator?”
After a couple of seconds you do. It’s weak and there’s not a ton of movement but there’s some. There’s some and that’s hope. Hope enough for Robby. 
“Good, that was good. I’m so proud of you.” He pulls the blankets back over your feet and walks back to the head of your bed. “Can you open your eyes now, Kid? Come back to me all the way, hm?”
The words feel a little wrong in his mouth. They have every time he’s asked you to come back to him. Because Robby knows he has absolutely no fucking right to ask you that. Not after the way he spoke to you and treated you. After the last thing he said to you. But he asks anyway. 
“You’ve done so good. I’m right here, okay?” He grabs your hand again. “I’m with you. So open your eyes, yeah? Let me see you, let me see your pretty eyes.” Robby watches as your eyes continue to move behind your eyelids, and he sees your lashes flutter like you’re trying to open your eyes. “Good, that’s good. I know you’re trying for me, thank you. Thank you, Kid. Just keep trying. Come back to me. Open your eyes.”
Your hand squeezes his a little harder than it had previously had and that’s what breaks him, a few tears running down Robby’s face that he’s quick to wipe away. 
“Come on Kid,” his voice is thicker with his tears than he’d like it to be. “You can do it, I know you can. Open your eyes for me. Open your eyes for me, please. Please.” He’s pleading now. 
Robby whispers your name and words of encouragement as he watches your eyes continue to move, lashes continue to flutter, more and more. And then it happens. Your eyes flutter open. It’s for less than a second though as you slam them back shut and pull away, grimacing at the pain. 
It’s too fucking bright and everything fucking hurts. Despite it seeming like you were slowly coming back to, for you it feels like consciousness slams back into you all at once. There’s suddenly so much light even through your eyelids and so many sounds and it smells like Robby and the hospital. You’re hyper aware of whatever it is you’re wearing and the blankets over you. It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. 
Robby laughs through a sob. “Hi Kid.”
You keep trying to get your eyes to stay open but struggle to. You squeeze Robby’s hand and lift one finger, trying to point at the windows. You struggle to process how unbelievably weak you feel. You’ve never felt like this before, where it’s hard to even move a finger. It’s scary. Everything feels so scary right now. You don’t know why you feel like this, aren’t sure where you are. But you know Robby is here with you and that gives you some comfort because you trust him not to let anything happen to you. You know him. Recognize him.
It takes him a second to put it all together, but he moves fast when he does, almost running over to lower the blinds over your windows and dim the room lights. “That better?” He asks as he returns to stand at the top of your bed, slipping his hand back in yours. 
It takes another couple of minutes for you to really get your eyes open and keep them open, in part because you’re trying to acclimate back to awareness, but eventually it comes.
You blink a few times as he comes into focus, your eyes looking around the room a little before landing back on him. He’s smiling at you as tears stream down his face. More fear seeps into you at his tears because you don’t understand why he’s crying. You don’t understand anything right now. “Michael.”
Your voice is nearly unrecognizable with how weak and raw and cracked it is but Robby beams at you. You thought you’d seen him beam at you before but no. He’s never smiled like this at you before. He’s looking at you like you think he might on your wedding day. Like you’re everything to him, the only thing that matters and his whole world and life. It’s contagious and you can’t help but give him a small genuine, but weak, smile back. 
He lets out another sobbed laugh when you smile at him, more tears streaking his face. You calling him Michael gives him hope. That you’ll forgive him and the two of you will be okay and that you’re going to be okay and recover well. That you’ll have the future the two of you have talked about before, marriage, maybe a kid or two running around the house you buy together. 
“Hey, Kid.” He squeezes your hand again and leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you.”
You furrow your brows at that a little as he pulls back. “What?” You start to cough a little and groan a little at the pain. It just makes you more scared.
“Here,” he says quietly when you stop. He puts his hands in the right position on your neck. “Can you swallow?” Focusing on you like this helps his tears stop. 
Getting your brain to execute the task feels harder than the actual act itself but after a few seconds you do without much of a problem. Robby deems it good enough for some small sips of water. He grabs the cup of water he changes every few hours just in case and grabs an empty needleless syringe from his pocket. He draws a bit of the water up and brings the syringe to your mouth. This way he can control how much you’re having at once, yes, but he also doesn’t know if you’re able to use a straw yet and just wants to get you some relief. 
You take the small dispenses of water he gives you greedily, swallow them down without any issue. “There you go,” Robby murmurs as he finishes giving you what’s left in the syringe. 
“Thank you,” you whisper. Your voice is still pretty raw and it hurts to hear far more than he thought it would. He thought he’d feel sheer relief hearing it again, and he does, there is so much relief in hearing your voice. But it’s also partially a reminder of everything that’s happened. “What happened?”
Robby grabs his chair and pulls it back over to the side of your bed and sits. “When you fell you hit your head-”
“When did I fall?” The confusion is clear in your voice. 
Robby’s stomach twists a little, his smile faltering. You don’t remember. It wouldn’t be surprising for you to have some retrograde amnesia, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean it’s permanent. But he needs to know. 
Robby needs to know what the last thing you remember is. In part because that’s where he’ll start telling you what happened and in part because he needs to know if you remember the supply closet. Because now he’s not sure if you called him Michael because you heard him before you had your seizure or because you don’t remember the supply closet.
He clears his throat. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks gently. “Don’t strain yourself, just whatever you can think of.” 
You try to think back but it’s hard. It feels like you don’t know how to think in a way, like you can’t get your mind to move out of the present and what’s directly in front of you. 
Robby can see you struggling and prompts you to see if it’ll help. “Do you remember any of the PittFest MCI?”
His prompt helps, gives your brain something to wrap itself around and it slowly feels like you can think again and the memory comes back. “Pedes. After Leah died. I remember sit, sit, sitting and talk, talking with you and then we got up and went back to it.” You’re having some trouble with your speech. It’s not that you can’t think of the words, it’s that you can’t seem to get your mouth to say them how you want. It just makes you more scared. What if it’s always like this? “But nothing after you thank, thanking me and wal-, walk, walking away.” 
You look over at him and shake your head a little despite the increase in pain it causes. “Are you okay?” You start to get a little worked up about it, about whether Robby is okay. Not about yourself. Your focus completely shifts to him. “I’m here for you. We can talk.” You try to reach your hand out for his but your arm doesn’t move the way you want it to. 
It’s just something else that warms and breaks Robby’s heart. Here you are in the hospital having just woken up from a coma with a severe TBI and you’re worried about him. Like really worried and starting to get worked up which your body absolutely doesn’t need right now. 
“Hey, I’m okay.” He gives you a reassuring nod and takes your hand, he saw you trying to move it toward him. “I’m okay, I promise. We can talk eventually, yeah, but right now I’m not worried about that or myself.” 
You calm down a bit hearing that he’s okay. But you know he’s not worried about that or himself because he’s worried about you, and you hate that for a number of reasons. You hate it because it just makes the fear come back into focus. You hate it because you’re making him worry, causing him pain. You hate it because he needs to focus on himself and healing. And you hate it because you don’t understand it, don’t have any idea why he’s worried about you. 
“What happened?” you whisper again. 
Robby takes a deep breath in. You’re calling him Michael because you don’t remember, not because you heard him before you seized and it’s a little sign of forgiveness. You don’t remember him breaking up with you, the way he treated you. A part of him doesn’t want to tell you. Wants to bet on you not remembering that part ever and him getting away with it almost, being able to pretend it didn’t happen. But he knows he can’t. He’d never get over the guilt of lying to you, because it would be a huge lie by omission. 
But Robby also knows he can’t tell you now. Not right now. Not when you just woke up. Because he can’t risk you getting escalated and the additional strain it would put on your body. In a day or so. He’ll tell you in a day or so he promises himself and you. 
“We’re not entirely sure. After the MCI you were walking home and we think you got punched from the side and fell backwards and hit the side of your head on the curb. It was probably a mugging, your backpack and phone were missing.” He squeezes your hand gently. “You were down for a while but once you were found you got brought here and Jack got you stable. Longitudinal basilar skull fracture, depressed skull fracture along your left parietal and temporal. Massive subdural hematoma, tripod fracture on your right. Some cuts and bruises, broken nose, you had a cut on your face that needed stitches. Jack made sure Plastics did it. Stitches are out already. Obviously you had surgery to evacuate the hematoma. You woke up briefly, for just a few seconds, and then seized from high ICP. Craniectomy, cranioplasty. They got your tripod fixed. Stitches and staples are all out.”
You look away from Robby while you try to take all of that in. Your head is swimming. On the one hand you’re relieved you know what all that shit means still given the severity of your TBI. And it explains the weakness you feel, why your head hurts, why Robby is worried, why he did a quick swallow test, why you’re struggling to get some words out, why you felt like you couldn’t think and your apparent retrograde amnesia. On the other though, holy fuck it’s a lot to take in. Hearing everything you went through feels like more than your injured brain can handle or process. 
That last part sticks out to you though. All the stitches and staples are out. That means time has passed. A decent chunk of it. 
You look back at Robby and swallow hard, think to yourself it’s a good sign that you can. “How long?” you whisper. 
You recognize his furrowed brows, crinkled sad eyes and frown for what they are, sympathy, an indicator of hard news to come. But a part of you can’t help but feel like it’s a look of pity. Like he’s here because he feels bad for you. “You were out for two days initially. After you seized… 41 days.”
You knew it was going to be long from his expression, but you didn’t expect a month and a half. “Oh my god,” you gasp quietly. “Michael, that’s so long.” 
Your pained and horrified expression kills him. More and more pieces of him are breaking off inside and he feels it, feels each one. He can only hope that there’s enough good in your recovery for them to heal back over. 
But the second you start crying he does again too. “I know, Kid,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry.” He stands back up and gently wipes away some of your tears. “Can I kiss you? Please?” His eyes tell you just how badly he needs you to say yes, how he’s been sitting here for that month and a half needing to kiss you, needing to see your eyes and hear your voice. 
“Yeah,” you sniffle and he helps wipe away more tears. “Please.”
He gives you a watery smile before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you’re finally able to reciprocate. It’s more than one. You knew it would be and you’re glad it is, you need to feel close to him. It’s like your body and mind missed him, missed the way his lips felt against yours as you kissed him back, is still missing the feeling of cuddling with him and sleeping in his arms and hugging him. It brings tears to your eyes but you’re too tired to cry. After at least a dozen kisses Robby rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. I’m not just saying that because of all of this. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, I just never found the courage to say it.” 
His admission catches you off guard, his words so unexpected. But it warms your heart, makes butterflies flutter in your stomach and your chest tighten in a good way. He pulls away to look at you, his stomach in knots about whether you’ll reciprocate. “I love you too. Have for a while now.” The smile you give him is weak but genuine and it has him beaming at you. 
“Good,” he whispers before leaning back in for another few kisses. 
You turn your head to the side a little after a few. “I’m sorry but I… I’m really tired Michael.” You want to say more, want to ask him to get in bed but the exhaustion has hit and words and speaking suddenly feel so hard and your brain hurts. So you don’t. You can’t.
“I’m sure you are, just get some rest, okay?” He pulls his head away and smiles at you. He’s glad your eyes are already closed because he wouldn’t be able to even try to fake a reassuring smile right now. The terror he feels at you going back to sleep and slipping back into a coma has to be written all over his face. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” 
You don’t reply, have already drifted off. Robby calls your nurse and lets her know you woke up, asks her to send your doctor in. She does and Robby and your doctor discuss you, what you were like, what Robby observed. Ultimately they decide to let you rest and not wake you for more tests. 
It’s a few hours later when you shift on the bed more than you have before. Robby can tell it’s a similar movement to what you do sometimes when you wake up at home so he stands from his chair and squeezes your hand gently. 
After a moment or so your eyes open again, find him quickly. “Michael.” It’s truly croaked out.
Everything is too much as you return to consciousness. Too bright and too loud and you can feel everything touching you, all the fabric and plastic tubing and wires. You recognize it as a hospital. 
“Hey, I’m here,” he smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”
“Weak. Where…” You take a couple of heavy breaths as you look around the room, brows furrowing and lips pulling down. “Why am I in the hospital? What happened?”
You’re scared. The room doesn’t reveal any clues about why you’re here. All you know is your head hurts, everything seems to hurt and moving any part of you feels like pushing a boulder around. You’re so weak you can barely get a hand into your lap from where it rested on the bed. And Robby, he was happy when you woke up but you could see the concern in his brown eyes, could see his own worry and knew it was for you. 
Robby stiffens, heart starting to slip into his stomach, a feeling of dread settling in even though he knows some anterograde amnesia wouldn’t be the end of the world and would likely go away. “What do you mean?”
You look back over at him with that same expression, eyes widening a little as the fear and panic set in, his frightened look only making it worse. “What happened?” 
“You don’t remember us talking about this earlier?” He tries to keep his voice steady and calm because he can see how scared you’re growing.
Your chin trembles and tears start to slide down your cheeks. “No.”
“Okay, okay, that’s okay. It’s okay to not remember right now.” He’s able to set aside his concern at this development to reassure and comfort you, hiding his own fear well enough that his smile is actually helping reassure you. He wipes some tears from your face again. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll tell you what happened.” 
He repeats the story, tells you how long it’s been. But this time you don’t focus on that as your head spins. You’re too caught up on the fact that you and Robby apparently had this conversation before. 
“And now I can’t rem, re, remem,” you huff, frustrated with yourself and your inability to get the word out easily, “remember.” 
Robby nods. “The anterograde amnesia could be temporary. So could your retrograde amnesia. Mostly likely they both will be temporary. What’s the last thing you can remember? Don’t push yourself, just whatever you can remember.”
You try to remember, try to do what he asks. But your brain doesn’t seem to know how to think, doesn’t know where to begin. It hurts trying to remember, and feeling like you’re unable to think scares you into shutting down this time. “I don’t know and think, thinking is hard. I…”
“Okay, it’s okay.” He’s still smiling at you, can tell you won’t be receptive to a prompt this time. “We don’t need to worry about that right now. You should get some more rest, okay? Let your brain rest.”
You try to squeeze his hand lightly, get enough pressure behind it for him to notice and glance down at your hands, his smile widening. “What if I don’t remember?”
Robby looks back up at you. “Then I’ll tell you again, I promise.” 
“You shouldn’t have to,” you whisper. 
“Not about should or shouldn’t, Kid.” He kisses your forehead, hopes the gesture will feel familiar and comforting. “If that’s part of how you need me right now then that’s part of how I’m going to help you.” 
You look over at the window. He pulled the blinds back up when it got dark. He likes staring out of it sometimes. There’s something vaguely soothing about looking out and down on the city. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Okay,” he nods, watching you get lost looking out the window. “I’m going to get your doctor, okay?”
You hum at him in response. Robby’s able to tell your nurse you’re awake again but resting and gets told your doctor is in an emergency surgery but will be by as soon as he can. Robby wants to keep talking to you, wants to have you talking to him but he knows you need to rest your brain so he sits quietly with you, strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. 
If asked you wouldn’t be able to describe how it happens or when exactly it started to happen. Twenty or so minutes after you woke up looking out the window grows unfamiliar, your surroundings suddenly new again. You look around the room, recognize it as a hospital room. Recognize Robby sitting next to you as you look at him. “Michael?” 
“Yeah, Kid?” Robby’s heart sinks further. He knows what you’re about to ask, recognizes the all too familiar look of confusion and panic in your eyes. You haven’t even slept. You were awake and it just slipped away from you. 
His expression has your heart mirroring his and sinking. It feels vaguely like you shouldn’t need to ask, like you should know already. But you don’t and you’re scared not knowing or understanding anything or what’s going on right now so you have to ask. 
“Why am I here? What happened?” 
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“Do I finally get to know where it is you’re taking me so that I can dress appropriately?” You ask Robby as you open the door to your closet. 
“Jeans and a shirt will be more than fine.” He motions to himself. “Look at what I’m wearing.” 
“Michael,” you whine a little. “That’s unhelpful. Like a t-shirt or are we talking a blouse or something even a bit fancier than that? And I just want to know. Why the big surprise?”
“A t-shirt will be okay. You could do a blouse if you wanted but you don’t need to.” He stands from the edge of your bed and walks up to you, wrapping his arms around you. “And it’s a surprise because I enjoy teasing you,” he murmurs. “But if you don’t put some clothes on over your bra and underwear soon you’re never going to find out what the surprise is because we won’t make it out the door.”
You swallow hard at his words and Robby’s able to watch your eyes widen as you contemplate his last sentence. “Fine,” you huff, “I’ll just get dressed with no information and hope I don’t end up looking ridiculous!”
Robby chuckles as he lets you step out of his arms and into your closet. “I promise you will not end up looking ridiculous.”
“Famous last words,” you deadpan at him. 
The date starts with dinner at a casual restaurant in the city. 
“Jake asked for my PittFest pass earlier today so he could take Leah instead.” Robby shakes his head at you. You guys are at your table sipping drinks and waiting on your food. 
“Oof,” you say with a sympathetic and somewhat teasing smile. “Ten days away and he wants the girlfriend over the stepdad. That’s rough.”
Robby shrugs it off. “It’s all good. I was a teenage boy once. I get it.” 
You nod at him, growing a little nervous. When he made plans to go to Pittfest you said you were okay working that day. That day. “What are you going to do to keep yourself occupied?” You try to keep it casual.
“Work,” Robby says simply, like it’s not a big deal at all. You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head, mouth opening a little. He shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I have to face the day eventually.” 
“I mean, no,” you shake your head at him, “you don’t. It can just be a day you don’t work. In perpetuity.”
He keeps shaking his head. “I don’t want it to be.” 
You can tell he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, doesn’t want to talk about this ever really, but much less while on a date with you. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to stop and move on. You just read it on him. And you respect it, nodding at him. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He gives you a small smile. “For not making it a thing right now.” 
“Of course.” You return his smile. You both turn your heads to look at your waiter as he sets your food down and tells you to enjoy. 
“Okay,” you clear your throat as you and Robby walk out of the restaurant. “Where to next?”
Robby grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. “This way.” He nods his head to the right. 
You give him a look. “You’re not going to tell me are you?”
He smirks and bobs his head a little while he speaks. “I’ll let the establishment’s sign tell you.”
You snort a laugh. “The establishment’s sign?” You bump your hip with his as you stop at a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn green. Cars race by but there aren’t any other pedestrians near you. “Sometimes I forget just how old you are and then you remind me.”
Robby scoffs but smiles. He stoops down to your level, something you normally hate when he does. But the smirk that has pulled up as he stooped makes it hot. “Yeah,” he leans in so you can feel his breath on your lips, drops his voice low “and you fucking love it. Get all worked up about how much you love my body and crow’s feet and how hot it is that I’m going gray everywhere. So yes,” he closes the distance between your lips and gives you a searing kiss that’s made all the better by how shocked you are that he’s kissing you like this in public. “I’ll let the establishment’s sign tell you.” 
You’re wired for him as you think about what he just said and how he said it, the physicality of it. “What if the establishment was one of our apartments?”
He laughs as he tugs you along gently when the light turns. “Yeah, we’ll get there eventually, Kid. Don’t you worry about that.” 
You nearly stop walking in the middle of the street at the insinuation. “Does that mean you have like… bedroom plans for us?”
Robby glances down at you, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Oh, I have a plan or two in mind for you, yeah.”
You swallow hard. “Okay, so, see, I just really think that your apartment should be the next establishment.”
He shakes his head at you and the two of you continue to walk.  
“Pins?” You look at the sign as Robby slows in front of the building.
“Yeah,” he nods, “you ever been?”
“No, but it’s been on the list of places to go.” You smile brightly at him, excited to finally get to try the place. “I was trying to get a group from work to come here because who else was I going to go with, you know? Just never happened.”
“Well good, I’m glad to know you’ve wanted to try it.” Robby opens the door and holds it for you. 
“Have you been?”
Robby nods. “I took Jake once when it first opened a couple of years ago. I remembered they had shaved ice cocktails and immediately thought of you and knew I had to take you. So here we are.” 
A heavy dose of butterflies hit your stomach. He thought of you. You know he probably does a lot just like you do about him, but hearing him say it is different. You stop walking and turn so that you and Robby are chest to chest. “It’s very sweet of you to think of me like that.”
You push your lips out for a kiss that Robby happily gives you, basking in how happy and excited you look to be here. “Where would you like to start,” he nods to cut you off as you start to answer preemptively, “after we get you a shaved ice cocktail?”
“Mmmm,” you hum as you look around. “Well, that depends on how competitive you’d like to be Dr. Robinavitch.” 
“Oh it’s Dr. Robinavitch now that things are getting competitive, is it?” he laughs. 
“Does the deflecting mean you’re scared to go up against me in anything here?” you grin slyly. 
“Not at all, Kid. We can start however competitive you’d like. I’ll win whatever it is.” Robby gives you a matching grin as he grabs a drinks menu and hands it to you. You roll your eyes at him affectionately and tell him which drink you’d like with a please and he orders them and pays. “Thoughts on what’s first?” Robby asks as he hands you your shaved ice cocktail. 
You’re still looking around. “Yeah, I’m trying to figure out which things I really want to do and then order them from most to least difficult to do while tipsy. Probably anything requiring movement we should do first so we don’t even risk injury because I’ll be very annoyed if we end up at work tonight. So duckpin bowling, bocce, ping pong. The arcade games and pinball are far more stationary.”
“You’re very smart, you know that?” 
You stare at him for a second. You’re not good with compliments most of the time, especially about your intelligence. “I’m saving us both and just going to ignore that question.” You immediately take a bite of your shaved ice and decide as you finish it. “Let’s start with bocce. Something nice and competitive.” 
“Alright, Kid, but don’t get mad when you lose,” Robby challenges.
“Please Robinavitch,” you snort and roll your eyes at him teasingly. “My ball handling skills are far superior to yours.”
You’re both quite tipsy later in the evening when you see the photobooth. All being tipsy does is augment how you feel about each other when you’re sober and has you showing it more in the way you look at each other, has you both giggly.
“Michael, look! Let’s take photos!” You point to it, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.
He chuckles at your enthusiasm and pays on the side of the machine before literally folding himself in the photobooth with you. “Okay, so what poses do you want?” 
“Just whatever,” you giggle. 
“Just whatever?”
“Yeah, whatever we happen to be doing when it takes. Look at the camera Michael!” You pull at his shirt to get him in frame with you. 
Once you’re done you leave the booth and wait for the strips to print, he’d gotten two, one for each of you. You grab them and then spot a bench and walk over to sit on it while you look at them, Robby right behind you.
You get five photos. The first is both of you looking at the camera, the second Robby looking at you, the third you looking at Robby, the fourth you kissing and the fifth you looking at each other. You both look drunk on love and each other in every single one. Your feelings for each other are nearly palpable just through the photo paper. You look like you’ve been together for years, not a couple days shy of four months. 
“Aw, they’re so cute! It’s perfect! I’m hanging mine right in the center of my fridge.” You hand Robby his copy and watch his face light up as he looks at each photo. “What’re you going to do with yours?”
“Keep it in my wallet.” He winks at you. 
“That’s very, very sweet, Michael. Very old school. I like it.” You lean into him and kiss his cheek. “I want you to know that I was going to tease you very dirtily right then, but I controlled myself.” 
“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “what were you going to say?”
“You said ‘keep it in my wallet’ and winked at me and I immediately thought, oh so jacking off in the on-call room is okay, but sex in the on-call room is where you draw the line,” you giggle, very pleased with yourself. 
He chuckles and shakes his head at you. “That is not why I’m going to keep it in my wallet, nor is it why I winked at you.” You look at him with feigned disbelief. “I just like the idea of having a photo of you in my wallet and this fits in the billfold and I winked because I knew you were going to make some comment including the word old.”
“Well shit,” you let out a long breath. “I’m getting predictable.”
“Believe me, Kid, predictable is one of the last ways I would describe you,” Robby laughs. “You have no idea just how on my toes you keep me.”
You lean in close to him. “Yeah, but you love it,” you breathe against his lips. You smirk as you pull away and stand up, ready to head back into the arcade. “Keeps you young.” You wink at him. 
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It takes about five days for the anterograde amnesia to go away. The longest five days of your life. Robby had eventually written everything down on a little notecard for you to read when you forgot what happened and why you were in the hospital. He didn’t mind telling you, at all, but he could see how much you hated having to ask. All sorts of therapies start that week. Speech, physical, occupational. You get moved out of the neuro-ICU to just neuro. More scans are done, a recovery plan drawn up. 
Now at least you can remember the plan and why you’re in the hospital and why you’re doing all these different therapies. You’re still struggling with some words, have trouble pronouncing them or getting them out. You haven’t gotten to relearning to walk yet, you’re still bed bound for the most part. 
Robby is there with you for all of it and sometimes you can’t decide if you like that or not. It’s not about him but about how all of this makes you feel and how having him see you like this makes you feel. Because it’s nice having your boyfriend help you with various exercises, nice to have him being the one moving your legs and arms and helping you stretch, to know he cares enough to be involved. But it’s also embarrassing, having him see you like this, having to watch him do it and know that he knows how weak you are, how much you can’t do for yourself, how much you’ve lost. You know that’s just you and how you feel and that Robby doesn’t care, that he wants to be here doing this all with you and thinks you’re strong for it all. 
Now that it’s been a day and a half since you started forming new memories and he’s convinced the anterograde amnesia has resolved, Robby knows it’s time. Your retrograde amnesia hasn’t resolved much, you still can’t remember much past walking away from him when you left pedes. So he has to tell you about the supply closet now, no matter how much he doesn’t want to. No matter how terrified he is. 
He’s not sure what he’s going to do if you kick him out, if you never want to see or speak to him again. He knows it won’t be that simple, that it’s not going to be a black and white thing where you’re either okay or you’re done. But it wouldn’t surprise him if you wanted space from him. Robby hates himself for it but he would struggle to give it to you. You don’t realize it but you’re part of what’s holding him together right now. Yes, therapy is helping him, but having you in his life, both in general and to focus on your recovery, is helping him keep it together and not spin out. You’re his reason to hold on and stay grounded and here. You give him purpose. 
“I really hate this,” you mutter as you keep repeating the physical therapy exercises they’d given you to help you with moving your arms. You can move them normally for the most part but it’s hard and they’re weak and sometimes it’s not quite completely normal at all and occasionally you just can’t. Everything about you is a work in progress right now. You hate that too.  
“I know, I’m sorry. You should take a break though, the line between pushing yourself productively and exhausting yourself so that it’s ultimately unproductive is fine.” He looks at you over the top of his glasses from where he’s sitting and reading in his chair. 
You roll your eyes playfully even though it hurts a little. “I think you just want me to be done so that you can come get in bed and have cuddles.” You give him an impish grin. 
He smiles and shakes his head at you, takes off his glasses and sets his paper aside. He’s not ready to lose this. The relative normality of your relationship. Your happiness and affection. Robby realizes he’s not ready to break your heart. Again. To have to spell out for you how he did the first time.
You stop your exercises, focus on moving yourself over in bed but Robby stops you. “Not quite yet, okay? I have something I need to tell you first.”
You furrow your eyebrows together and cock your head at him. You can already feel the panic rising. “What’s wrong?” 
As he moves his chair closer to your bedside again your mind whirls through what it is he could need to to tell you. Maybe he’s done with this. With you. With how much work you are right now. It would make sense, you’d understand it. It has pretty much taken up most of his life and it’s not like he’s getting much back from you right now. You try to be there for him emotionally, try to listen when he needs to talk. 
But he hasn’t been talking a tremendous amount about how he’s doing and how this is making him feel. And you’re sure in part he feels like he can’t because he thinks it’ll add stress to you and in part when is he supposed to talk to you? You’re in physical and speech and occupational  therapy for large portions of the day and still get tired pretty easily so you’re frequently napping after. 
And on the physical side you have very little to offer him other than kisses and cuddling in bed. You know he doesn’t give a shit about that side of things and that he’d never leave you because you couldn’t do much physically, but it still crosses your mind. 
Robby sits down and looks at you. The look of concern and rising panic on your face is what gives him the ability to just jump right into telling you. “After pedes, and after the MCI was over, Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay. He threw me being on the floor in pedes in my face. I… I assumed it was you who had told him. So I found you and dragged you into the supply closet and I,” he shakes his head, looks away from you even though he knows he shouldn’t. “I was awful to you. Truly fucking awful. And I regret it constantly.” Robby pauses. “Is this bringing back anything for you?” 
“No,” you whisper, still looking at him even if he won’t look at you. 
“Okay, I just wanted to check.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. This is going to be the hardest part. Telling you what he did. Having to confront it for himself even though he spends a significant portion of each day thinking about it. It’s different having to tell you. 
“I said I couldn’t fucking believe you and asked how you could betray me like that. By gossiping about me. I told you that there were a lot of people I’d expect to gossip about it or could see doing so but never did I think you would.” Robby finally looks up at you. “You had no fucking idea what I was talking about because you didn’t gossip. You didn’t tell anyone. And I yelled at you about that, about you pretending to not know what I was talking about because I was convinced you did know, that you had done it. I told you that you were trying to be the victim. I finally said I’d spell it out for you and told you that I knew you told Langdon or someone about what happened in pedes. You tried to speak and tell me that you knew I wasn’t going to believe you but that you didn’t talk to anyone about pedes and never would.”
“I wouldn’t.” You’re still whispering but it’s emphatic, almost pleading. Because as much as it’s hurting you to hear all of this you still want him to know. Need him to. 
“I know. I knew.” He nods his head. This next part is going to hurt. You can tell by the way he pulls away from you, like he needs distance to cushion the pain he’s about to inflict, on you and himself. “I cut you off and asked how else Langdon would’ve known.” He swallows thickly. “And then I broke up with you.” 
“What?” It’s whispered so quietly he barely hears the question. Your tears are spilling down your face the second they hit your eyes. You hadn’t been holding hands but you pull your hand away from the side of the bed he’s sitting by. This isn’t what you expected him to need to talk to you about. You could never have fathomed it, you’re not sure you can. Part of you wonders if you’re dreaming or maybe hallucinating, part of you hopes for either of those. But you know neither is true. It gets hard to breathe. 
Robby nods at you, looks like he’s at war with himself, chin trembling and eyes full of self-loathing. A few tears slip down his face and he sniffles hard. “I told you we were done because I’d never be able to trust you again. I said that we had waited all this time, that I had waited all this time and you threw it all away before we hit six months. I asked why, told you I didn’t understand.” 
You let out a small sob and the sound kills Robby. He hates it when you cry. It’s even worse when it’s because of him. You try to keep it together but you can’t, the thought of him breaking up with you and not being here too much for you to compartmentalize and keep inside.
“And then I finally let you talk. And you were so you about it,” he laughs out a small sob. “You were so much more than I deserved in that moment, treated me far better than I deserved. You said you knew I wasn’t interested in listening to you but that you didn’t and would never tell anyone about pedes. You told me you loved me and that you hadn’t told me because you felt like I wasn’t ready to hear it or say it or that maybe you misread things and I didn’t or don’t love you.” He shakes his head because it was and is so untrue. He did and does love you, you hadn’t misread anything.
“You said you were proud of me for pulling it together in pedes and that one day you hoped I’d find out you were telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone.” Robby swallows down a sob. “And then you said you loved me. Past tense. That you were proud of me and I should be proud of myself through all my hurt. You ended with Michael, by saying my name. But I didn’t take anything in. I just told you no. That you weren’t allowed to call me Michael or even Robby. That I was Dr. Robinavitch to you. And then I left you in the supply closet. You ended up leaving the hospital and you called me, as you were walking home. And I didn’t answer. Deliberately. And if I had maybe none of this would’ve happened.” 
You feel sick, have to look away, not because of what he just said, because of all of it. You don’t blame him for what happened, even if he didn’t answer your calls. It’s a lot to hear at once. He broke up with you. What does that even mean for right now? You don’t even remember. He could have just not told you but he did and even in your haze that sticks out to you. 
When you pull your eyes from his and don’t say anything Robby continues. “I didn’t bring it up while you were still struggling with the anterograde amnesia because I didn’t want you to have to experience whatever emotions this brings up more than once. I didn’t want to keep putting you through that. Genuinely. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you.” He wants to reach out and take your hand, squeeze it reassuringly but he knows you don’t want that right now. “I’m telling you now that you can remember because not telling you felt like a lie, and I just thought you needed to know. So that you could decide what you wanted to do, if you want me to stay or go, how this changes things, if it does.” 
You’re quiet for a moment as you fight through all of your thoughts and then shake your head slowly. “I don’t know,” you say softly and shake your head. Because you don’t. You don’t know what to say or think or do. You’re not super sure what exactly your brain is even doing with all this information at the moment. It feels like it’s just there.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How much I hate myself for it. For all of it. For speaking to you how I did, for what I said, for not listening to you and for thinking you would betray me. There’s no excuse. Not a single one. It doesn’t matter how bad the day was and where I was at mentally. I am so sorry, Kid. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and earning back your trust.” Robby can’t bring himself to offer to leave if that’s what you need, to say that he’d understand if you needed him to go. He would. But he doesn’t want his suggestion to prompt you into asking him to leave or kicking him out because he’s not sure he’d survive having to leave you.
You’re quiet as you try to process or do something with everything Robby’s just told you. You bring your hand to your face slowly and wipe some tears away as you try to get rid of some of the big hiccuped breaths that slip out. 
You finally look back at him. “So we weren’t even… a couple? When this happened?”
“No,” he shakes his head and sniffles, “not technically.” 
“But we are one now?” 
“I,” Robby pauses. He’s not sure if he knows. In his mind you are. But he knows that for the last week he was able to just kind of pretend the supply closet breakup didn’t happen. That’s not true anymore and he doesn’t know where that leaves the two of you. Because right now you’re you before it happened. And so he doesn’t know what happens to the you he broke up with who believed you were broken up. He doesn’t know what happens to that conversation, if it still exists in a sense. If it still happened between the two of you. It’s so intangible and hard to wrap his non-injured brain around so he can just imagine what it’s like for you. And on top of it you can’t even remember. 
“I don’t know. I want us to be. In my mind we are. But I guess I don’t really know if we are. There’s a version of you in there who thinks we aren’t together. But she’s not here and so I don’t know how it works with you not remembering. I don’t know how it works now that I’ve told you.” He lets out a breath. “I guess it’s kind of up to you, Kid.”
“Oh, I…” You shake your head but grow quiet again, your tears having at least stopped. This entire conversation, everything Robby has told you, it’s all way the fuck too much for your brain right now. It’s hurting you. Emotionally, yes, obviously. But physically too. Your brain and head literally hurt as they search for where to even begin to try to make sense of and process this. It’s a scary feeling, not feeling like you can’t really control your mind. 
Your silence gets to Robby. He desperately needs to know how you’re feeling, where you’re at. If you still love him. He knows it’s selfish and that this isn’t about him and how he feels but he can’t help himself right now.
“Can I ask,” he breaks the silence, interrupts your spiral which you’re kind of grateful for. “Do you um, do you still love me? You went from love to loved when we were talking in the supply closet. So I was just wondering if you do.”
You nod slightly. “I… This is… Yes. I do. The me here with you now, of course I do. But I don’t remember, Michael. I’m sorry. I don’t know if the me you left in the supply closet… I don’t know if that me meant to say loved or if it was an accident. I don’t know.”
“But even knowing right now? You still do?” He looks shattered at even just the thought that you might not.
“Yeah. I love you, Michael. I do. The love I have for you, the way I love you, it doesn’t just go away like that, over one thing. And I don’t know for sure but, I’m me before the supply closet thing I guess and I don’t think that would have made me just abruptly stop loving you even after the supply closet. It doesn’t work like that.” You can see the relief ease some of the tension in his body and you’re glad for it. He’s too tense normally and you hate the thought of him being more tense because of you, even with what you just learned. 
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I love you too. I love you so fucking much, you have no idea. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry the way I treated you didn’t reflect that. Because I loved you then too, of course. I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry.”
“I know you are, and I accept your apology right now.” You look away from him for a second and let out a breath before returning your gaze to his. “But Michael I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how to feel really. I think I know how I should feel, but it’s hard to when I’m just hearing about it. I don’t remember how I felt or what exactly happened and what it was like and I don’t know what it means for us right now. It’s hard and it’s all hurting my brain right now, so can we just… not talk about it for now? I’m sorry. I know that’s unfair to you. I’m just getting really tired and feel like everything’s being pulled from under me a little. Do you want to go? Is that part of why you told me? To make me tell you to go?”
“God no. No. Absolutely fucking not. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want you to tell me to go anywhere. The thought of that is terrifying. I would understand if you needed me to, but no,” he shakes his head in emphasis, “I don’t want to go anywhere. Ever. I never want to leave your side ever again. I want to be here with you, be your boyfriend and take care of you.”
You can’t deal with this anymore right now. With trying to sort out your thoughts and feelings about it all. It’s too much for your brain. You feel too alone even though Michael is right next to you. You just want him. To feel him and be with him and have it all be okay and for none of this to be happening. 
“Okay. Good.” You start to shift over in bed a little bit. “I just can’t right now, with this, it’s too much. Can you just get into bed please? I just want to rest on you, if that’s okay? I feel very alone with you in the room and I hate that feeling, so can we just… be together in bed right now?”
“Of course, Kid.” He’s quick to stand and push the chair back, help you move over in bed and climb in next to you. It’s like he’s worried you’re going to change your mind before he has the chance to hold you. 
The two of you settle into one of the positions you’ve found to work well. You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes, focus on the repetitive beat of his heart, the way his warmth seeps into you wherever you’re touching, how his scent overwhelms you, how his hand feels rubbing up and down your back, how he kisses the top of your head over and over. How loved he makes you feel. 
“I love you Michael,” you whisper as you flirt heavily with sleep. 
Robby smiles to himself, gives the top of your head another kiss. “I love you too, Kid. Just rest now.”
You do. You rest on him a lot the next couple of days. Eventually you find some words and the two of you talk a little more about what happened. It’s hard to figure out, to decide what you are or aren’t. It’s hard for you to figure out how to heal from what happened in the supply closet, both individually and as a couple, how to move on from it, and how to work through it together when you don’t remember it. How can you process or heal from or move on from or work through something you can’t remember? Robby telling you just isn’t the same. 
Even after you talk and say you’re together and going to work through what happened, it doesn’t quite feel real. The reality you both come to accept is that it’s extremely difficult to work on repairing and healing a relationship while basically living in a hospital. Everything is artificial. You’re together all the time. There is routine but not true normalcy. 
There are moments of happiness, yes, but it doesn’t seem to stay. There are moments where things really do feel like they used to, where they feel like how things were before any of this. There are moments where it gets close to that feeling and seems like you’re working your way back there, like you’re healing. And there are moments where you just feel like two people who used to be together sitting in a room and awkwardness infests the silence in a way it hasn’t between the two of you ever before.
It’s like there’s something between the two of you preventing you from really feeling like you’re together and it’s hard to know what exactly it is. If it’s what happened in the supply closet or if it’s because you’re at a hospital and so you’re relationship is almost stunted in a way, you can’t be a totally normal couple here, there’s no privacy, you can’t go on dates, you’re still recovering, or if it’s something totally unrelated, or if it’s you struggling with how to do anything about something you don’t remember, or if it’s the depression that’s starting to settle in you. 
Because settle it does. 
Nobody is surprised when it seems to blanket you almost overnight. In the beginning, once you got over how you looked physically and accepted your injury and your new reality, you had been happy to see people and chat and have visitors. It made you feel good, made things seem a little better getting to laugh and smile with people. And then pretty much overnight that stopped. And now it doesn’t anymore. Now almost nothing makes you feel good anymore. You just exist. Spend your days counting down the minutes until you can go back to sleep. 
You pull away and revert into yourself, block nearly everyone out. Absolutely no visitors with the exceptions of Robby, Jack and Dana. You don’t want to see anyone. You don’t even let people in your room just to turn them away. Robby stops them at the door. You don’t respond to texts. You ask Robby not to tell anyone anything about you or where you are with your recovery, even if they ask. 
You let Dana and Jack visit, but that’s for Robby really because it’s not fair of you to cut him off from the world just because you want to cut yourself off from it, and you know he wouldn’t leave you to go talk with them elsewhere. So you let them visit. You don’t say much when they’re visiting, mostly you just let the three or two of them chat and look out your window or drift in and out of sleep. 
You don’t pull that far away from Robby in that you let him be around, still want him to be around. But you barely talk to him a lot of the time. You don’t react when something goes well in physical or occupational or speech therapy. He’s worried you’re going to slowly stop wanting to even do them. That you’re going to slide from this kind of sadness to apathy where you just don’t care what happens to you, don’t feel like working on anything. 
Robby hates it, you feeling like this and his inability to fix it. It’s hard to see you this depressed. But he’s going to stay with you through it. Your struggle with depression isn’t going to push him anywhere. He knows this is a part of your recovery.  
He knows there’s only so much you’re able to give him right now and for the most part he accepts that, is okay with it, doesn’t push you for more, something both of you know he’s learning and working on in his therapy. He takes whatever you’re able to give and holds onto it, holds on to each rare little smile he pulls from you, each time you reach out to hold his hand, each time you pat the bed for him to get in, each time you kiss him. Each time you tell him you love him. 
That type of depression is where you’re at about ten days after Robby told you about what happened in the supply closet. Your memory still hasn’t returned. You know that’s normal but you hate it. It’s difficult in general to cope with not being able to remember, but it’s made all the worse by knowing that your inability to remember is playing a role in the strain between you and Robby. You feel like if you could just remember what happened and how it made you feel then you’d be able to actually truly start to work through it and move on. But you can’t. You can’t remember. 
You’re having a very good day for you, physically and emotionally. You and Robby are cuddled together in your hospital bed together watching the TV show you started binging recently. You chat sometimes as you watch, even flirt with him a little and laugh. It doesn’t feel like that thing is there between you right now and while you both know it’s unlikely, you’re still praying you’ve finally turned some corner. Robby swears you’ve said more words to him all of today than you have all of the last ten days combined. He’s high on the sound of your voice and laugh. 
Both of you are particularly irritated when there’s a knock on your door. 
“No,” you say immediately as you pause the show. “Not unless it’s Jack or Dana.” 
“Alright, Kid. I’ll be right back.” He lingers for just a second and you know what he’s waiting for, waiting to see if you’ll offer. You tilt your head up at him and push your lips out. Robby’s face lights up as he leans down and steals a couple of kisses from you before getting out of bed and going to the door. 
“Sorry, not up for-” Robby cuts himself off when he gets the door open enough to see that it’s not someone either of you know. 
“Dr. Robinavitch? They said you’d be up here with her.” Robby nods and the guy introduces himself as the detective investigating your assault. “Can I speak with her?” 
“Um.” Robby rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I don’t think now is really a great time. Her memory of the assault hasn’t come back either, so I don’t know what she’d be able to tell you.”
The guy gives Robby a tight smile. “Well then she can tell me that herself.” 
Robby lets out a single dry laugh. “She’s not up for visitors right now.” 
“I’m not just a visitor. I’m the detective trying to find the person who assaulted her and put her in the hospital.” He cocks his head at Robby. “So why don’t you go ask her if she’ll entertain me for a few minutes.”
Robby senses it’s probably going to be easier and get the guy out quicker if you tell him you don’t remember yourself. “Wait here.”
You’re confused why it’s taking Robby so long to get rid of whoever it is. You have no idea who would try to be pushing their way in this hard. You raise your eyebrows when you see him and sit up a little so he can get back in bed. 
He shakes his head. “It’s the detective assigned to your assault. I told him you don’t remember anything but he doesn’t seem to care. I know you don’t want anyone in right now but it might be easier to get him to leave if you just tell him yourself that you don’t remember.”
“Fine,” you sigh, your irritation at the detective clear in your tone. 
Robby nods and walks back over to the door and opens it. “Come in.”
“I don’t remember anything related to the assault,” you tell the detective as he walks in before he can even open his mouth to introduce himself. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” 
He introduces himself anyway. “Even the smallest detail could help.”
“I’m sorry, but I promise you I can’t remember any of it. My memory stops several hours before the assault. I don’t remember.” You shrug at him. You were irritated the second the guy knocked but that irritation is growing exponentially with each passing second because you can tell he doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings or your need for this conversation to be over. 
“Do you remember what they were wearing? The color? If it was a jacket or a hoodie?” the detective presses. 
“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t remember anything. I had to ask what even happened to me because I don’t remember any of it. Nothing about it exists in my mind, I can’t picture it or anything. I’d like you to go, please.”
“Well, now, just wait a second, maybe it’ll come back. Anything shoe wise? Boots? Tennis shoes?” He steps closer to your bed and Robby moves in a little closer in turn, between you and the detective because Robby’s already done with how the guy is treating you. 
“I don’t remember. There is just a void where the memory of it should be. I get it. It’s frustrating. Believe me, I get it. I’d like my memory to come back too.” You’re starting to hit anger levels of irritation. “I’ve been waiting for it to come back for over two weeks now. You being here isn’t going to make it come back. You’ve done your job and asked. I’m telling you I don’t remember. So please leave.”
“She doesn’t remember. She had a very traumatic brain injury, okay? Retrograde amnesia is common.” Robby holds an arm out in front of the detective and motions to the door. “She’s asked you to leave, so please respect her and go.” 
He doesn’t. “Anything. Anything at all, the direction the assailant came at you from, skin color, were they wearing a ski mask-”
Something in you breaks when he won’t leave and keeps asking you questions. Something that feels like it’s going to take a while to heal. 
“No,” you cut him off. “See now I’m fucking done. I’ve been trying to be polite and nice. But I’m fucking done. I get that you have a job to do and I appreciate you trying to find whoever did this to me, but you still need to respect me. I’ve asked you to leave. I was having a great day for the first time in too long and you’ve ruined it,” you snap at him. Robby hasn’t seen you this angry and irritated in a long time and something about the way it’s settled in your face and body makes his stomach sink.
“I have run out of ways to tell you that I don’t fucking remember. I have no idea how else to phrase it or communicate it to you. I don’t know how to make you understand it, it’s not a difficult concept. I do not remember anything about what happened. You sitting here repeating the question and asking if I remember specific little things is simply not going to change the fact that I don’t fucking remember. Any of it. As I’ve said what feels like seven thousand times in this conversation,” you seethe. “So get the fuck out of my room and don’t come back. Leave your card and if and when I remember something I’ll make sure you’re the first person I call.”
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“I don’t know, Jack. I think she’s the one.” Robby can’t fight off the small smile that forms on his face at the thought of you.
The two are out having a couple of drinks together at a bar not far from work, Robby just getting off and Jack not on tonight. They’re watching the game on TV and chatting about whatever comes up. Jack is unsurprised when the conversation turns to you.
Jack finishes taking a sip of his beer and sets the bottle back down on the bar top. “Yeah?” 
“Yeah, man. I can’t imagine life without her.” Robby shrugs and looks at Jack. “I know it’s crazy because we haven’t said I love you yet, but I just feel it. Like she’s it. She’s the one.”
“No, I get it.” The smile Jack gives him is a little wistful. “When you know, you know.” 
Robby grimaces. “I’m sorry-”
“Hey, no. Don’t be.” He gives Robby a seriously look. “I’m happy for you. I want you to be happy.”
Robby nods, smile creeping back up. “I am.”
“I know.” Jack smirks. “Everyone knows.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, everyone knows you’re down real bad Robinavitch,” Jack laughs teasingly.
“Shut up.” Robby rolls his eyes but knows Jack is telling the truth. He knows he can’t hide how he feels about you. From anyone. “I see a future with her. I want to marry her one day. Maybe get a townhouse or a house, something with a yard. Maybe have a kid.”
Jack’s eyebrows raise. “Wow, I’ve never heard that from you before.” He takes another sip of his beer. “You thought about telling her that you love her?”
“Of course,” Robby sighs. “All the fucking time. It’s just scary, honestly. And it never feels perfect.”
Jack clicks his tongue at Robby. “It’ll never be perfect.”
“I know, yeah.” Robby looks up at the TV. “Just what if she doesn’t say it back? What if it freaks her out and is too much too soon?”
Jack breathes a small laugh through his nose. “Well, I can’t promise you that she’ll say it back, but seeing the two of you together, I’d be pretty fucking floored if she didn’t. And I think the absolute last fucking thing you telling her is going to do is freak her out or be too much too soon. She’s down just as bad, Michael.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Listen.” Jack waits for a second for Robby to look at him and tilts his head and leans in just a touch. “Just, tell her before you can’t anymore, yeah? Tell her all the time. Don’t wake up one day regretting not telling her enough. And I know it’s scary and it’s hard and it’s easy for me to say and a whole different thing to actually do. But try. It’ll be worth it to hear it back from her and have her know exactly how you feel.”
“Yeah. I will. Soon.” Robby takes a drink of his beer and looks at Jack. “I will soon.”  
A few days later you and Dana have a similar conversation. 
“So,” Dana drawls, ducking into the room where you’re suturing an inebriated unconscious patient, “how are things with Robby?”
“They’re good.” You smile at her. You can hear how syrupy your voice is. She gives you a knowing smile in return. “I think he might be the one Dana.”
“Yeah?”
You bite your lip and nod at her. “He’s just always there, you know? Like when I think about the future, future plans, he’s always there with me. Ten years down the road, fifteen. I see a house and marriage and maybe kids. And I know we haven’t said I love you yet, but I know I love him, and I’m pretty sure he loves me. Even if he doesn’t say it, I can feel it. In how he treats me and the things he does for me.”
“I knew my husband was the one before we said the l word too. Sometimes it just takes longer to say it.” She raises her eyebrows at you. “But when are you gonna tell him?”
You shrug as you tie off your knot. “I don’t know. I haven’t because I don’t want it to be too soon for him and have him freak out or pull away. Especially now with the anniversary in two days and him working on it. Sometimes I feel like he’s the kind of guy who needs to say it first, but I can’t decide if that’s true or an excuse I’m creating.”
“Well, it’s good you can recognize that might be what it is,” Dana laughs. “You didn’t ask for advice but the advice I’m going to give you anyway is that if you keep waiting for the perfect moment to tell him, you’ll never end up telling him. Because no moment will ever seem perfect enough. And he’s going to end up falling into that same trap of waiting.”
“I know,” you sigh. You glance up at her in between stitches. “I just don’t want to lose him.” 
“You won’t, Hon. You make him happy. He’s crazy about you. Has been for a long time.” Dana smirks before growing more serious. “I’ve known Robby for a long time. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when he’s with you. And it’s not just when he’s with you. He’s happier in general.”
You finish cutting your last suture and look up at her. “Good. He deserves to be happy.”
“And who are we chatting about today ladies?” Robby smirks as he walks in the room. He seems very proud of himself for discovering the two of you talking.  
You exchange an amused look with Dana before looking at your boyfriend. “You.” 
“Ha!” Robby laughs. “You’re so funny.” Neither your nor Dana’s facial expressions change and he realizes you meant it. “What about me?” He asks with mock upset. 
You shake your head at him. “We were just talking about the future. Naturally you came up.”
“Naturally?” The smirk pulls back on his face. 
“I’m out.” Dana holds up her hands and walks out of the room. 
Robby steps closer to you as you stand up. “Naturally? What does ‘naturally’ mean?”
“It means we can talk about it tonight at home.” You smile saccharinely at him as you take your gloves off and throw them away. 
He shakes his head. “No, no. I want to hear about the future and me naturally coming up now.” 
“We don’t always get what we want.” You tilt your head at him.
“I know,” he nods. “For example, you don’t want to talk about this until we get home tonight, but you’re not going to get what you want because we’re going to talk about it now.” 
You scoff though there’s nothing really behind it. You hate how attractive the self-satisfied grin he’s wearing is and how it makes you want to jump him, except you don’t hate it at all. But if he really wants to play this game then you’re happy to. “Fine. She asked how things were going with you and I told her that when I thought about the future you’re always there with me and that I even see rings on fingers and sometimes I see a couple little mini-Michaels running around the house we buy together, okay?”
It makes him glitch out and go still and silent for a second like you figured it would and you smirk as you walk out the door and start to quickly make your way to the hub to find a patient to get involved with so he can’t pull you away. 
Rings? Robby thinks to himself. Mini-Michaels. Plural. A couple. More than one. Marriage. Kids. You see that with him. A huge smile pulls onto his face because he sees it with you but has always wondered if you saw it with him. Because he’s older and insecure about it and whether you’d really consider having kids with him because of that and if you wouldn’t would that end up being a deal-breaker. 
Robby turns and walks out of the room. “Hey!” he calls after you as he watches you giggle to yourself and damn near fucking scamper to the hub when you hear his voice.
“Hey, Javadi and McKay are with a patient in central 2 looking to present if you’re free,” Dana greets you as you walk up to the hub. 
“Oh,” you smirk to yourself and nod, “I am so free and available for them right now.” 
“Hey, hey, hey!” Robby gets to you just before you can get away. His hand wraps loosely but just tightly enough to remind you he’s your boyfriend around your upper arm and he pulls you to the side and then releases you. “You do not just get to drop that and run.” He shakes his head at you. 
You see McKay pop her head out of the room and look at Dana who points at you. You wave at her. “I’ll be right there!” 
“No you-”
“Yes, I will Dr. Robinavitch. Dr. McKay needs to present so that her patient can get the care they need. And she can present to me. That’s just one of those things I get to do,” you emphasize the word with a smirk and a slight bob of your head at him, “now that I’m an attending. So, our conversation will naturally have to wait.” You get to give him your own self-satisfied grin now as you walk off to central 2. 
The rest of the shift is busy. A rough busy. You and Robby barely see each other until you’re gathering your stuff to leave. You’re both quiet as you walk home holding hands. You’re not upset with each other or anything, you’re both just using the time to decompress a little. 
“You know,” Robby says as the two of you walk into his bedroom, “today was the closest I’ve gotten to hauling you into the on-call room and fucking you on shift.” 
You stop walking at his words and he nearly runs into you. “No, I did not know that. Why didn’t you?”
He steps in front of you and turns your hips, walks you backwards until you’re pressed against the wall, cages you in a little. He smirks at you. “I needed you to be able to walk to finish your shift.”
“Oh,” you laugh a little, mostly just a breath out, “you are talking an awfully big game right now, Michael.” 
His eyes sparkle as he nods. But he gets a bit more serious, almost a little shy or nervous. “Were you serious earlier? About marriage and kids and a house with me?”
Now you’re the shy one, but just like his, your eyes still sparkle. “Yeah. None of those are a dealbreaker for me, though. If you don’t want any of them. I see those things, or I can see those things with you, I want those things with you if you want them. Because really it’s just you. Whenever I think about my future, however many years down the road, you’re always with me, right there by my side.”
Robby beams at you and nods.“That’s funny because whenever I think about my future, however many years down the road, you’re always right there by my side. I’ve talked to Jack about it before.”
“Really?” you whisper, a huge smile of your own pulling onto your face.
“Mhm.” He nods. 
“Would you want any of that?” You’re a little breathless at the thought. And at Robby and how handsome he looks right now smiling at you like you’re perfect and the living embodiment of everything he could ever need and then some. “Buying a house together or marriage or kids?”
“I want all of that with you. None are a dealbreaker for me either, but I want all of that with you. I want everything with you, Kid.” He pauses and tilts his head. “Though if we have babies, I’d like there to be a bunch of mini-yous running around our house as opposed to a bunch of mini-mes.” 
You bite your lip and shake your head, watch Michael’s eyes blow a little more. “Nah, I want mini-Michaels.”
“Well, seeing as we can’t really control that, we’ll just have to see what happens.” Robby leans down and closer to you. “But I do want that with you. To marry you and buy a house and have some kids. I want that a lot.”
You nod. “I want that a lot too.” 
“Good,” he murmurs before leaning in and kissing you. 
He’s teasing about it, taking his time devouring you and leaving your hips canting against his before he pulls away and smirks at you, walks over towards the dresser. 
“And just so you know,” Robby says as he pulls his scrub top and under shirt off and looks at you. “It was the thought of fucking a baby into you, my wife, in our house that nearly had you getting fucked in the on-call room today.”
“Oh yeah?” You smirk, pulling off your own top. “You hiding a breeding kink from me Dr. Robinavitch?”
“Maybe.” Robby takes off his cargo pants and steps closer to you. Like he knew they would, your eyes drop down and you lick your lips when you see how hard he is under his boxer briefs. “You want to find out right now?”
You nod as you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. “Maybe I do.” Like Robby you take off your scrub pants but leave your underwear on and take a few steps closer to him. “And maybe you better put your money where your mouth is and I better not be able to walk after, Michael.” 
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You’re different after speaking with that detective. The depression remains, the apathy and sadness and numbness are still there but anger and irritability start to take over. At first it seems to be more of a dynamic situation. One where you wake up every day not knowing how you’re going to feel. One where Robby wakes up every day and has no idea what you’re going to be like. That fact just feeds into the depression because it makes you hate yourself, hate the way Robby’s damn near walking on eggshells around you at times because he doesn’t know what you’re going to be like today.
He reacts by getting a little clingier, trying harder to be there for you, trying harder to anticipate your every need. You love him and you truly do appreciate all he’s doing but with each passing day you’re settling more into irritation and anger and his constant hovering and touching and offering you things and doing things for you starts to get suffocating. 
You’re both aware that speaking to the detective is what really set off your shift into the irritability and anger side of your depression and there’s a part of you who holds it against Robby. Because he was the one who didn’t just tell the guy no for however long it took to get him to leave. He was the one who told you it would just be easier if you spoke to the guy. And if you hadn’t spoken to him it’s likely you wouldn’t be this angry and irritable.
Your resentment about that slowly becomes some resentment about everything and he starts to agitate you more and more. You know it’s not him and it’s the depression so you fight it off hard for a while, but it’s fucking exhausting and eventually you’re not able to as much. You start to snap at him. Especially when it starts to feel like he’s here doing all these things for you and hovering and smothering you because he’s trying to make what he did in the supply closet all better just by being here for you. Like if he helps you get through this all will be forgiven and it’ll just be like the supply closet thing never happened. 
You don’t kick him out or tell him to leave. You let him be here with you. Let him do whatever he wants and thinks helps you even when it doesn’t. Because the few times you’ve gotten snappy and told him to stop and that he wasn’t helping and needed to stop hovering he looked like a kicked puppy with those big brown wide eyes and you immediately hated yourself. So you keep trying to bury your feelings down when you know you shouldn’t be. You know if you talked to him kindly about it then he’d probably adjust and things would be better but you’re constantly too irritated to want to engage in any prolonged conversation with him, or anyone else for that matter. 
Robby can feel it, despite how much you try to hide it. He can feel how irritated and annoyed he makes you. But he doesn’t know what to do about it, doesn’t know what you want from him. And so again, as you slip further into irritation and anger he holds on tighter, clings more, because he’s so afraid of losing you. The colder and more off with him you grow the more he does to show his worth and that he loves you and just wants to help you. It’s a never ending cycle for the two of you. 
It kills him inside knowing he upsets you. He slips into a depression of his own. He keeps going to therapy but it’s hard to make much progress right now. Once you woke up, being here with you all the time and helping you and doting on you, let him ignore everything else that happened on the day of the PittFest MCI. But it gets harder not to think about, to ignore all of the guilt weighing on him, when you really start to pull away from him and the two of you spend most of the time you’re not in some form of therapy in complete silence with you not even looking in his direction, sometimes turning in bed so that your back is to him. 
He hates himself. For all of it. Every single thing. Adamson. Langdon. Leah. You. All the people he either killed or failed or both.
The more angry and irritable with him you get, the more he feels like him being here isn’t actually helping you, the more he thinks he should just go. That you’d be better off without him. That the world would be. That it would be the kind thing to do to kill himself. That it would actually help you. That then neither you nor he would have to continue to suffer.  
Physically, you have good days and bad ones. Generally it depends on how tired you are. And the more you swallow down your feelings the more tired you are. The depression sucks all of the energy out of you too. You still have all kinds of therapy, but you start to stall out in terms of progress because of how tired you are. It makes it difficult for your body to maintain where it has recovered to, let alone make gains. 
They won’t let you go to a rehabilitation facility and be out of the hospital because they’re slowly weaning you off the heavier anti-seizure medications and they’re concerned about a delayed CSF leak causing you to develop meningitis and they’re worried if you do end up seizing that you’ll have another brain bleed and don’t want you to be at a facility far away and get delayed treatment. You know those are all technically legitimate concerns, but you also know they’ve definitely discharged patients where you’re at in recovery to rehab facilities and that really they won’t let you leave because Robby is asking them not to because he’s scared of you not being in the hospital. You learn to let that one go because you’re not sure what difference it really makes at this point. A rehab facility wouldn’t be home. 
Your memory is slowly starting to come back and the more you remember taking care of patients and wrapping up the MCI after pedes the more you and Robby know that eventually you’re probably going to remember him breaking up with you in the supply closet and things are likely to change between the two of you. It’s unclear whether it’ll be for the better or worse, whether remembering will help you process and heal and move on or whether it’ll be too much and you’ll end up telling him you can’t forgive him for it and work through it with him. 
One day little flashes start to come through. Nothing that’s enough to really give you much insight as to what happened and how it made you feel. You don’t tell Robby it’s starting to come back. You worry it’ll make him somehow even clingier, though you’re not sure how that would be possible at this point. 
And then one day it does come back fully. You can see the whole thing from start to finish. You can feel all the feelings you felt then. In fairness to him, Robby had done a good job of explaining what happened and just how severely he spoke to you and yelled at you when he broke up with you in the supply closet. But nothing he said or could have said or any way he could’ve explained compares to the memory. Robby couldn’t remind you of how it made you feel in the moment, of how he looked at you.
It’s mid-afternoon and you’ve just finished some therapy and settled into bed when it really comes back. You let it play through in your mind a couple of times before looking at Robby for a couple of seconds. He catches you looking and raises his eyebrows in a silent ask of what you need. 
You don’t ask for anything, immediately turning yourself over so your back is to him. You can’t look at him. Tears start to stream down your face and you clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle some of the noise. You wouldn’t be able to handle him trying to get into bed with you right now. 
So you force yourself to cry quietly. Force the dry heaves down. He thought so little of you and that hurts. It hurts more than anything you’ve been through during all of this. He didn’t trust you, he thought you’d breach his trust that egregiously. He wouldn’t even listen. How could he? How could he so easily dispose of you and throw you away without even hearing you out? It was just over for him. You were nothing. 
The walls your mind starts to build up around it are built subconsciously. You’re far too tired already today to really deal with this. You can’t let yourself feel any of this. But then heartbreak doesn’t really work like that does it? You try as hard as you can to pull it together and put it in a box and shove it away but you can’t. The sadness is overwhelming. It’s like you’re drowning in it. 
You can’t even begin to try and think of how to forgive him. How to heal this massive wound he’s inflicted on your heart and soul. You don’t know what the two of you even are anymore. He’s here acting like he’s your boyfriend but he never asked you to take him back. There hasn’t been any real conversation. 
The sorrow settles into your bones. It feels like you’ll never love again. Like you could never possibly feel any kind of romantic love towards anyone but him and so you’re destined for a lifetime without it. And it feels like nobody will ever love you again. Not like he did. Or not like how you thought he did, because you’re not sure anymore. That he ever did. Not when he could throw you away so easily. 
“Kid?” Robby’s voice is gentle as he calls to you and gets out of the chair. He knows you’re crying. He can see it in the way your body shakes and how you curl in on yourself, can hear the sniffles you try to muffle. It breaks his heart. It’s the first time in a good while now that he’s seen you show some real emotion other than various forms of anger and irritation. He wants to hold you. He wants so badly to make it all better. “What’s wrong?”
You hear him growing closer, you know he’s going to try and get in bed behind you. So you automatically adjust yourself and spread out a little so that there’s no room for him to. So that he’d have to ask and you could make up an excuse and say no. 
“I’m fine,” you sniffle. 
“Please talk to me,” he whispers, his hand finding your side and rubbing up and down in what he incorrectly thinks is a soothing manner. 
“I’m just tired and am going to try and sleep,” you mumble, pulling the covers further up you. 
Robby wants to push you, get you to talk to him. But he doesn’t. He knows you don’t need that right now. “Okay,” he murmurs, walking back over to his chair.
Eventually you wake up. You say even less to Robby than usual the rest of the day. You don’t eat the dinner he gets you, just say you’re not hungry. Which is true because you’re far too nauseous to feel hungry right now. And then you go back to sleep for the night without him in bed with you. 
In the morning you don’t feel better but you’re at least rested and not as tired. You have some breakfast because you know you need your blood sugar to be okay. The rest and food will make it easier to control your emotions and you’re going to need to because you’re going to talk to Robby and do your best to set aside your anger and irritation and hurt and sadness for this conversation. 
“Hey,” you say softly. “Can we talk?”
“Of course.” Robby nods from his chair at the side of your bed. “What’s up?”
You let out a shaky breath. “More of my memory has come back. So, um, I remember now. The supply closet. You breaking up with me. It’s a little hazy in places still but, yeah.” You let out a long breath. “I remember it.” 
You do your best to keep your voice neutral, to keep any emotions from taking you over, to keep from crying. It’s almost worse for him in a way. He’d rather have you express emotion so he could know where you are with it.
Robby swallows thickly and nods. He’d been expecting this. Thought the last afternoon and night might be about it. “I wondered. But I didn’t want to push you or something by asking.”
You give him a strained smile. “I appreciate that.” 
“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I know it doesn’t change anything or make it better, but I truly am sorry.” 
You nod. “I know Michael. I know you are. Trust me, I know. And I see how bad you feel and I don’t want you to hate yourself for this. I think we can get through it, I’m just not sure how right now. And I don’t know where exactly this leaves us.” You shrug. “But I don’t want to lose you and not be with you if you don’t want to lose me. I’m just telling you now that I’m struggling with it, now that I can remember, and I’m struggling with how to process it and where we even start and how we work through it and heal. My brain is still…you know?” 
Robby nods but stays quiet to see if there’s more you want to say, trying to be better at listening and hearing you. Trying to show you he’s not who he was that day in the supply closet. Trying not to push when you don’t want to be pushed.
“But it’s not just better, things aren’t repaired and fixed.” You know you’re repeating yourself a little. You just want to communicate all the thoughts your brain can put together so that Robby knows where you’re at with things, even though you don’t really know. You want him to know you don’t know. “So I don’t really know exactly where we are right now, what we are exactly. I’m just, we’re just going to kind of have to take it day by day and I know in a way that’s not fair to you, not fair for you to be here taking care of me and helping me but not knowing exactly what and where we are and maybe doing all of this for me just for us not to end up together.”
He’s shaking his head before you even finish speaking. “No. No, I don’t care about that for a second. I mean I do in the sense that I care about whether we’re together or not but not, I don’t think it’s unfair is what I mean, or even if it is, I don’t mind. Like even if we definitively weren’t together and you wanted or needed or even were just okay with me being here helping you I would be. Because I love you and I care about you and I always will. Even if we’re not together. I will always love you.” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that made sense or made things worse.” The way he seems so scared to get your reaction makes you sad. 
“I know what you mean.” You nod at him. “And I love you too, always will.” You give him a small smile.
Robby returns your small smile with a big one of his own. All he ever wants to do is make you laugh and smile. “Okay, good.” He lets out a breath. “I don’t want to lose you. That’s the last fucking thing I want. I thought I was going to and I…” He looks away from you for a second to pull it together. “I couldn’t handle it. So I’m going to try to follow your lead with this and meet you where you are with it and try and help us figure out a way to heal.” He looks down. “From me.”
“I appreciate that and think that will be very helpful.” You’re surprised at the course of this conversation. You were fully expecting Robby to push you and bombard you with questions or try to keep the conversation going and try to sit on the bed next to you and fluff your pillows so he’d feel like he was helping you. Because that’s what he’s been doing a lot as of late when you do talk casually about whatever. 
You know it’s probably because he’s desperate for you to talk to him and so once you start he doesn’t want the conversation, good or bad, to end. And that he likes to feel helpful and like he’s doing things that really help you and wants to show you he’s taking care of you. 
Your physical therapist knocks and comes in. Robby’s distracted during it, normally far more involved. You’re hopeful it’s a sign that he’s stepping back a little and not going to hover and be in your space and trying to do everything for you as much. 
But really he’s just thinking. About what you said. About how you don’t know what the two of you are. About how that conversation went far better than he thought it would. He expected your irritability and anger to come out hard because that’s where you seem to live lately. He was prepared to accept it, whatever it was you needed to say, however you needed to say it, as long as it helped you heal. If you needed to be mean and yell at him like he had done to you to heal from this and be able to move on and still be with him then he’d let you. He’s hoping your irritability and anger not showing themselves too much is a sign you’re not going to be living there anymore. 
Unfortunately neither of your hopes turn into reality. Things are just awkward over the next two days. Robby still hovers and is suffocating at times and you’re right back to irritability and anger as you try to deal with your broken heart and how to heal it. 
There’s a bit of a change, though. Your irritation and anger and depression in general manifest in extreme apathy. It builds slowly over those two awkward days after you and Robby talk, but by the third it’s almost total apathy. You stop pushing yourself during any of your therapies. Everyone can tell you’re mentally checked out the entire time and just doing whatever you’re told without any real thought. 
And over the next three days while you’re checked out and not pushing yourself and trying to figure out what to do about Robby a more complete apathy sets in. You stop doing your various therapies. Physical therapy comes and you say no. Speech therapy comes and you say no. Occupational therapy comes and you say no. 
You say no when Robby reminds you to do all your various exercises they leave you with. You say no thanks when he brings you food. You get irritated and are quick to snap at him if he tries to persuade you into doing things for too long. 
At first everyone agrees to let it go. Nobody is happy about it but you’ve been working very hard for a good chunk of time now and so they agree to let you have a couple of days of rest. Everyone that is except for you. 
Because once those couple of days pass, you’re still saying no. And Robby can’t take it anymore. 
“You need to do speech therapy.” He gives you a look. “You had a break. It’s time to get back to it all.”
“I don’t even need it anymore. My speech is fine. I very occasionally have trouble with some words but I probably did before this anyway.” You shrug at him. 
Robby shakes his head. “You know there are some words you consistently struggle with. They can help with that.”
“Why do you fucking care? What does it matter? Is it because I might embarrass you one day when I struggle with a word in front of someone? Just stop. I’m not doing it.” You let out an irritated sigh and shake your head at him. 
Robby lets out a slightly irritated sigh of his own that makes you bristle a little. Today is really not the day for him to do this with you. Your irritability is particularly bad, you’re tired and just want to sleep and be left alone.
“Alright, how about some physical therapy then? We don’t need to call them. I can help you.” You ignore him and make no effort to sit up so that you can do some exercises. “I’m just worried, Kid. I know it’s tiring and it’s hard but if you don’t keep up with it you’re going to lose everything you’ve worked for.”
“I didn’t realize I suddenly wasn’t a doctor anymore and didn’t know that,” you deadpan. 
“Kid,” he sighs again. 
“I know,” you huff, “I know and I’m still choosing to not do it. Not today. Let it go.” You take a deep breath to try and let out some of your irritation and tension because when it builds up you snap at him and you hate that, hate snapping at him.
“You have to,” he says simply, starting to walk closer to your bed. If you’re not going to do it when he asks nicely then he’s going to take a tough love approach because he can’t let you lay here and lose all of your progress and waste away in front of his eyes. 
“No I don’t.” 
“Yes.” He throws your blankets off you. “You do.” Robby adds to your rapidly growing irritation when he goes to grab at you to get you sitting up.
“Fucking stop, Michael.” You bat his hands away. “I really don’t. So please stop. I really can’t do this right now. You can try asking again in a bit.”
“You really do.” He’s unperturbed by you batting his hands away, continuing to try and get ahold of you enough to get you sitting up. 
“No. Stop. Michael, I’m so fucking serious right, stop touching me please. It’s too much. I need you to get out of my personal space right now.” You shove at his arms as best you can to try and get him to back off, the increasing tension and irritation clear in your voice. “I can’t do it, okay? And I’m not going to.” 
“No. You don’t want to.” He doesn’t mean for it to but it comes across like he’s scolding you to you. “You can and you are going to.” His hand manages to wrap around your upper arm and that’s it. You’re done.
You snap. 
“Oh my fucking god, Robby!” You half yell. He freezes instantly. “I need some space, I need you to go.” 
Robby doesn’t freeze because you half yelled. He freezes because you called him Robby. You haven’t called him that in years now. And it doesn’t even look like a fully conscious choice, more something that just slipped out and for some reason that panics him even more. He pulls his hand from you and takes a few steps back from your bed. 
“What?” he whispers.
You take a second to let out a breath and bring yourself back down. “I need some space, please Michael. I’m too overstimulated and irritated right now, I don’t care if you don’t understand why, you don’t need to. I just need some space. Please.”
“What is this really about? Because I know it’s only about me trying to get you to do exercises to an extent.” He shakes his head, mouth set. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop when you asked and tried to keep going and take the tough love route. That was wrong of me. I should’ve stopped as soon as you asked. But something else is driving this, this anger and irritation that you have, that gets so high you snap and now apparently makes you need to be alone. And I need you to talk to me. Like really talk to me honestly. So we can work things out and I can know what to do and not do.” 
You stay quiet, hoping he’ll take the hint and let the conversation go and give you the space you desperately need. Neither of you are at your best right now. Neither of you are perfect. And you don’t want to continue to hurt each other with this conversation.
“If this is about what happened that day in the supply closet you need to just say that so we can talk about it. Because we haven’t. Not really. Not since you remembered. We ignore it.” He shrugs at you. “We can’t keep ignoring it.”
“Michael,” you let out a long breath, “right now I just need some space, a little time to be alone. We should not have this conversation right now while we’re both this escalated. I don’t want to.”
“I’m not escalated. I’m just saying we can’t keep ignoring it.” The thought of this conversation ending and leaving you even just to give you some space terrifies him. 
You clench your jaw, give into the irritation and anger a little. 
“Fine, you want to talk about it now of all fucking times? Now when I’ve asked you to leave and give me some space because I’m overstimulated and irritated and too escalated? Fine. Whatever you want, Robby!” You scoff a laugh at him because it feels so fucking typical. His breath hitches because you’re back to calling him Robby. “I haven’t been ignoring it. Somedays it’s close to all I think about. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go and to forgive you and try and move on, and figure out how to do all of that. But I still don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” he asks. Doesn’t agree to stop the conversation. Just asks a follow up question. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should just give you the bit of space you’re asking for and not push you. 
“Anything! I don’t know how to do any of this and deal with it. I don’t know about us. Where and what we are. You broke my heart! You shattered my trust! You thought I’d just betray you. You didn’t, maybe don’t, trust me. So I don’t really know why you even want to be with me. And right now I am so physically fucked up everywhere and my brain is a mess. I just…” You let out a long breath and try to regain some semblance of composure but it’s getting increasingly difficult. 
“Honestly, you’re hovering, constantly, and suffocating me. I never get any fucking alone time. You schedule your therapy at the same time as one of mine so someone’s with me. You’re here with me all the time, and yes I appreciate it, and I love it and you so very much, I promise I do. Even when it feels like I don’t and when I’m irritated. I do. But it feels so much like you think that if you’re here and helping me through this and doing whatever I need and hovering and showing me you’re here for me then it’ll all be fine and work out like nothing happened and that’s just not true. So I just need some space right now in this moment. I’m getting overwhelmed and I just need to be alone. I really don’t want to continue this conversation. Now is not the time.” You shake your head at him.
“I am sorry, you know. I really am.” Robby wraps his arms around himself. “And I want to do whatever you need me to so that we can fix this and get through it. So please just tell me.”
He still won’t end the conversation. He’s still pushing you. Because Robby would rather be feeling your anger than feeling nothing from you. But it’s winding you up again, the way he won’t stop. And you know if you try and shut down he’ll just keep talking at you and hover near you which will be just as bad. 
“I know. I know you are. And I remember understanding in the moment. Understanding why you did it, how bad of a day it had been, how emotionally fried you were. I know what the day was but you were so ready to just throw me away. And I know you want to fix this. But I still don’t know what exactly I need from you. It is hard for me to be around you sometimes. I’ve never asked you to leave because I know how much it would hurt you. I know how bad it would be for you. But it’s hard to look at you. Because I look at you and all I can see is the man who thought so little of me that he wouldn’t even give me a chance to ask questions or explain and wouldn’t listen to me. It’s like I was nothing to you. And you’re always here and so I’m thinking about that a lot. I just…” 
You pause for a second. It’s getting harder to organize your thoughts and keep them on topic and not tangential and rambling. “Please. I’m not even asking you to leave, Robby. I’m asking for some space. For like an hour or so. You say you’ll do anything for me, then do this. Give me some space.”
Everything Robby’s learned at therapy is sliding right out the door during this conversation. He needs to walk away because you aren’t able to and you’re asking for space. And he knows that as calm as you’re trying to keep yourself and your voice, he’s winding you up every time he won’t do as you ask, won’t give you space. But he can’t stop. Eventually you guys will talk your way out of this, just like you always do. That’s what he tells himself. 
“You weren’t nothing to me.” He shakes his head, face screwing up in worry that you still think that. “You aren’t nothing to me. You’re everything, you always have been, even when I was being a full on piece of shit and horrible to you.”
You look away from him for a second before shaking your head to yourself and looking back at him. “You say that Robby but sometimes actions are so much louder than words.”
“And what about now?” He scoffs at you a little because what the fuck do you mean actions are louder than words. He’s here and trying so hard and that’s apparently nothing to you. All it does is make you pissed off with him. “What about all this, everything I’m doing now? You have to be able to see that you’re not nothing to me, that you’re everything, that I’d do fucking anything for you! I’ve stayed through it all, through the depression, through feeling like you don’t want me here, through you snapping at me and not talking to me and nearly ignoring me. I’m still here. I’m still here even when you make it difficult to be! And you’re telling me that counts for nothing?”
Robby can see you grow more upset and irate, can see it building up again. You tense further, your chest starts to heave just slightly, jaw grinding. Your eyes show it too, look at him sharper. 
“Oh,” you draw out your laugh of the word. “When I make it difficult to be here you push through and stay, okay. Don’t fucking act like you’re doing me some goddamned favor by staying and being here Robby! It shouldn’t be a fucking favor. It shouldn’t be something you lord over me. It should be you here because you love me and you want to be here and you don’t feel like you need recognition for being here because that’s just what people who love each other do. If you don’t want to be here, if I make it too fucking difficult, then fucking leave and don’t come back.” 
“I didn’t mean it like that and I don’t want to leave and not come back,” he starts to interject. But you keep going.
“And of course you being here and staying counts, for a lot, I never said it didn’t. I literally just fucking told you I appreciate you being here but that doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t just magically fix what you broke!” You shake your head and shrug at him, let out a breath of a laugh. “How do I know this isn’t just some manifestation of you feeling guilty and responsible and like you have to fix me? How do I know it’s not the guilt that’s keeping you here? How do I know you don’t really want to still be broken up but feel so guilty that you’re here and pretending? Because you were fine with not having me until something happened to me that you blame yourself for.” 
“No! No. I was never fine with not having you, even when I still stupidly thought you had gossiped about it. I wasn’t fine. I was destroyed!” He shakes his head at you, takes a step forward because he needs you to believe him about this. “Do I feel guilty? Yes. I’m not going to lie to you or myself. Of course I feel guilty. If I had been there or if you had stayed at the hospital this wouldn’t have happened to you. But you’re not going to get better and then I’m going to be like oh yeah actually I don’t want to be with you and just fuck off and leave you. I’m fighting for you. For us. For that future we talked about. Marriage and a house and kids. Please let me fight for us. Please fight with me for us.” 
He knows you are fighting for the two of you, that you are everyday, and that you asking for space doesn’t mean you’re just giving up. It’s a healthy thing to do. He should respect it. He knows he’s making things worse by continuing the conversation. 
“Don’t.” The coil of anger and irritation Robby’s winding up in you is getting tighter and tighter. “Don’t act like I’m not. Don’t act like me asking for some space means I’m not fighting for us. I could’ve told you to get the fuck out the second you told me what happened or the second I remembered. Believe me there have been times the irritation and depression or the sheer hurt from what you did have overwhelmed me and I’ve wanted to make you leave. There still are those times. But I didn’t and I don’t make you leave. Because it would hurt you deeply and because I want to fix this and make it work. So I fight for us. I fight for us every fucking day. And me needing an hour of space doesn’t change that.” You stare at him intensely as you try to use the silence to drive it all home. 
“I don’t want to lose you.” Robby rubs the back of his neck. He’s terrified. You can see it. His face is furrowed, lips pulled down and eyes wide and glassy and reflecting the anxiety and self-loathing you know he’s drowning in. “I can’t lose you.” 
He still won’t stop and give you what you need, what you’re begging him for and you’re a hair’s breadth away from reaching a point of no return.
“Staying doesn’t mean you won’t lose me, Robby! You really need to see that! The simple fact of you being here and trying to help me and supporting me doesn’t mean everything’s going to be okay.” You rub your face as you let out a long sigh and look at him pleadingly. “Please Robby, I’m literally begging you for some space right now. I really need it. I really need you to go because I don’t want to end up completely snapping at you and saying a bunch of shit I regret and damaging things further when I get totally overwhelmed and I’m headed there really fast. And I know you want to help. Right now what would help me is if you gave me some space.” 
“I think we should do couple’s therapy.” You nod at him, hoping that at this point in the conversation your silence will at the very least get him to be quiet. “I can start looking for someone and-” 
“Robby,” you interrupt him. But he speaks before you can say anything else.
“Please don’t call me that.” He shakes his head at it. “Why are you suddenly calling me that? What happened to Michael?” 
You let out a slow and shaky breath. “I really need space and this conversation to be over.” 
“But I love you. I want to work this out.” He’s pleading with you now just as much as you’ve been pleading with him. 
“I know. I know that. And I love you. I genuinely do, Michael. Unfortunately though, despite what many people say, sometimes love alone isn’t enough. I need you to respect me right now. I am asking you for space please. Just please give me some time to myself right now. An hour. Just an hour for right now. If we keep going I’m going to snap and say shit I regret, I really can’t take anymore, so please,” you’re begging him, “please give me some space.” 
You’ve hit the point and you know it. This conversation is either going to end and Robby is going to give you the space you need, or he’s going to try and continue the conversation and you’re going to lose it on him and end up hurting him. 
Robby is fully aware that he’s not going to get the answer he wants to the question he’s about to ask. It’s not going to make you calm down and slip into reassurance mode and end this argument or whatever this is. He knows it’s just him pushing you further and he tries to stop himself but it slips out anyway. 
“You don’t need me? To help you.” 
And that’s it for you. The way that question seems like it’s about you but is really about him. The way he kept pushing. You’re too tired and totally overstimulated and overwhelmed and he has just kept pushing and pushing you, kept winding you up and adding to your overwhelm and irritation and overstimulation. So you snap again. 
But you snap much, much harder this time. 
“God damn it Robby just get the fuck out, okay?” you seethe at him. You’re fucking livid. He has never seen you like this before. “Get out! I’m fucking done! Is that what you wanted? Me to totally snap and come unglued and say I’m done so you could get out of all this and not be to blame in your mind? Because congrats, you got me there! You fucking pushed me there! I’m done right now. Done. I asked for space and you can’t do it. You just had to keep fucking going. So yeah, now I am kicking you the fuck out!” 
You let out a shaky breath as tears of anger and frustration start to stream down your face. “You are making it so fucking hard right now to want to keep fucking fighting for us and I hate it. I hate it. I get you’re scared about losing me either physically or emotionally, but jesus fucking christ I just asked for some space Robby! But you still don’t trust me, you don’t trust me to take the space I need and not go anywhere! You don’t trust me to not just give up on us!” 
“I didn’t want to have to kick you out. I just wanted a little bit of fucking space. And you can’t give me it and you’re making this about you! Like you always do. Everything is about you! Do you even see it?” You throw your hands up at him and give him a look. “I asked not to have this conversation because I was too escalated and upset and exhausted and overwhelmed but no, you wanted to fucking have it so here we are. Both of us hurt and upset. Do you see that you not leaving is making this about you and what you need to quell your fears? To be here with me constantly. But it’s not about you and what you need!” 
“In the hospital right now, this shit is about me! I’m the one who has been relearning to walk and feed myself and everything fucking else. I’m the one who has problems speaking at times. I’m the one who can’t get her brain to think sometimes, who just forgets how to get her brain to do anything.” You wipe at your face. The tears of frustration and anger haven’t stopped. “You have no fucking idea what that’s like, what it’s like to feel like a toddler again in some ways, even with how far I’ve come. I’m the one who might never be able to practice medicine again, who might have my entire career ripped away from me as it was literally just fucking beginning.” 
“And you know what, actually, yeah.” You nod at him with a sardonic laugh. “To answer your question. I do. I do need you. I need your help with all of this, your support and your respect, but not on your terms. Not you doing what helps you. Not you doing what you think is helping me and supporting me and respecting me. On my terms.” You point at yourself. “On what is actually doing or will do those things for me. I need you but you have now stopped me from having you by not giving me some simple space when I asked. You’re my partner, or you were my partner, I guess. I don’t even know if you are anymore. You broke up with me. You told me to call you Dr. Rob-, Dr. Rob- fuck.” 
You let out an acerbic scoff at your inability to get out his name. It strikes you as exceedingly poetic in the moment. “You told me to call you by your title. The one I can’t even fucking say now so I guess it’s a good job you decide to let me call you something else. You broke my fucking heart Robby! You shot a fucking bullet right through my heart and that bullet tore through it, just like what happened to Leah!”
Neither of you breathe for a couple of seconds and the room is pin drop silent. Robby’s chin trembles and he tilts his head at you for a second in a look of total heartbreak before looking down as his tears start to fall. He can’t believe you just said that. That you went there. It’s pain on multiple levels. Pain because of what happened with and to Leah, because of what it did to Jake, because he should have been there instead of her, and because you just threw it in his face. 
You know how low of a blow that was. You know you could hardly go any lower than that. You know that you just broke his heart in a way. You hate yourself for saying it. But you are so overstimulated and angry and exhausted and irritated and just fucking done that it’s difficult to find it within you to care. So you go on, you don’t let up at all, don’t calm at all. You just keep going. 
“Sure mine wasn’t physical but it was emotional. You managed to do that with words, tear right through my heart with your words.” You sneer at him. “And it’s really fucking hard to figure it all out, Robby, how to do this and heal my heart and us. Especially with a very traumatic brain injury that’s not healed. We weren’t even fucking together when this happened, not to you! I don’t know what we are! I don’t know what I want!” 
“I am so far fucking beyond overwhelmed and overstimulated right now, Robby. You have made me that far beyond overwhelmed and overstimulated by not giving me the little bit of fucking space I asked for over and over again! You have gotten us here!” Your head is killing you and it’s getting substantially harder to form coherent thoughts that aren’t just essentially repetitions of things you’ve already said. 
“Everything hurts, thinking hurts. Being with you hurts! It hurts way the fuck too much. You need to leave me alone and go and not fucking be here because it’s too much! It’s too much and I can’t do this anymore. I cannot fucking do it. You need to fucking go,” you fully snarl at him. “And if you don’t I will call my nurse and have her get security. I can’t do this anymore, okay? So get the fuck out and don’t come back until I want and ask you to.” 
Robby’s still looking at the floor as he sniffles and nods. He’s not sure how he hasn’t thrown up already or started audibly sobbing. “Okay,” he whispers. He pushed you way too far and he knows it. And he might have permanently pushed you too far, might have destroyed everything because he was so terrified of losing you. Might have created a self-fulfilling prophecy. 
He grabs a couple of his things and his backpack as he makes his way to the door. He stops with hand on the door handle and looks back at you. “Are you ever going to want me to come back?” 
It’s a loaded question. He asked ‘are you ever going to want me to come back’ but what he really means is ‘are you ever going to want me back’ and both of you know it.
You look over at him, still just as livid as when you threw Leah in his face and told him to get the fuck out. Your voice is ice cold when you answer. 
“I don’t know.”
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😶 I have very little to say for myself, but please do not hate me lol. I tried to make the vignettes fluffy for some balance. 😭 There will of course be a Part 3.
I hope it was okay and enjoyable! I really enjoy hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me so much motivation and inspiration!! Liking, replies and reblogging are always so so appreciated! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming (or (lovingly) screaming at me again)! 🙂♥️
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hellinistical · 2 days ago
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6:53
a/n: thank you vm for your art, @box-artist. farmer phainon made me all giddy and eased my woes for him. now it's stuck in my head and i need to write it. i'll probably do more too. check out their art here!
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Your grandmother left you a lil old house in her will. It’s overgrown. The porch leans. You’re convinced something lives in the shed. You move anyway—burnt out from city noise, breakup drama, or just ready to disappear for a while.
You meet Farmer Phainon on your first day. You’re holding a crooked box of god knows what, and he’s standing at the fence line with a jug of water and a fluffy white dog at his heels.
"You're not her." He says, plainly. "She had stronger arms."
You squint. Blue eyes- pretty blues and snowy hair with a smile like the sun was saying hi. "Who the hell are you?" "Phainon. Neighbor."
He hops the fence, takes your box like it weighs nothing, and carries it to the porch without being asked. Immediatley suspicious of how attractive he is with his sun tanned skin, freckled shoulders, and a white tank that sticks to him like its got nothing better to do, he smells like cedar, soil, and something sweet you can't quite place.
He catches you staring, cracking a laugh. "Somethin' the matter?" "No- no, sorry." "'s all good. No worries honey."
When you can't keep a plant alive to save you (and you tried. you really did), you get frustrated. Your grandmother had whole gardens. Yours shrivel in protest.
He notices. Quietly.
One morning you find a small potted rosemary on your porch. A note tucked underneath: “Try again. This one forgives mistakes.”
One time, you argue over a fence line. He’s building a new one. You think it’s too close to the garden path. You march over with a print-out of a property line, hair a mess, coffee in hand.
He listens, then hands you a ruler. "Then measure it." You do. You were wrong. He doesn't say told you so. Just adjusts it anyways.
The first winter that comes in, you get snowed in.
The power flickers out. Pipes groan. You’re wrapped in blankets on the couch, cursing yourself for moving to the country just cause it was cheaper.
There’s a knock.
Phainon.
He's got a thermos of soup, extra fire wood, and a flashlight. His cheeks are rosy from the wind. "Told ya this place ran cold."
You let him in. He warms your hands by the stove. He doesn’t leave until the lights hum back on.
He teaches you things slowly. How to split kindling. How to listen for rain in the wind. How to tell when the chickens are lying about laying eggs.
Sometimes he stands behind you, guiding your hands. Sometimes he just watches, arms folded, smirking when you mutter under your breath.
He never teases meanly. Always just enough to make your stomach flip.
Your porch becomes shared.
You drink tea there at sunset. He brings over honey from his hives. Leaves jars without a word.
You leave books on the steps. He brings them back with dog-eared pages.
Sometimes neither of you says a word. You just sit there. In the quiet. Together.
And it feels… safe.
He fixes your leaky roof. You try to help. He won’t let you. You bring him lemonade instead. He drinks half of it. "You put too much sugar in there, sweet girl."
You roll your eyes.
The first kiss is unexpected honestly. You’re barefoot, holding tomatoes from your garden (finally thriving thanks to him). He says something low and nice and full of weight like: "You messed up my routines and cycles."
And you laugh too softly. And your eyes meet. And he steps close. And the kiss is slow, and quiet, and says everything you’ve both been avoiding.
You hold the tomatoes between your bodies. He smells like sun.
Eventually, you stop calling it your grandma's house. And when people ask about the man always fixing your fence, feeding your dog, or sneaking into your kitchen to make coffee just the way you like it—you just say, "Oh, that's just Phainon."
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dduane · 1 day ago
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Holy crap, you wrote My Enemy, My Ally in ELEVEN DAYS?! One of my favorite books ever that was and still is one of my go to books for comfort (my copy has been getting a workout lately), that I still pull out and study for the gorgeous language and turns of phrase when my own writing is stuck?
*wanders away, shaking head* Evidently I still have a lot to learn…
Thanks for the kind words. 😊
And yeah: eleven days. (It might've been longer had my housemates not kindly taken on my snow-shoveling duties for that period. It was snowing a lot in Philly right then.)
This speed of execution (and the luxury of having the leisure to relax into language and dialogue issues) was made possible by having a very detailed outline—a "road map" very completely drawn in advance. ...That having been what sold the novel in the first place.
But then if you're going to work in somebody else's IP, no matter how talented you are (or think you are), you have to be prepared to demonstrate, via outlining, that you know exactly where you're going to be going. Trust me when I tell y'all that at the end of the day, Corporate will have zero interest in how you got stuck mid-story while you were "pantsing it." To work without a sufficiently-detailed outline in somebody else's universe is a near-guaranteed pathway to Only Getting Hired Once.
Meanwhile, more details on how to outline at this level of granularity—or whatever level you need—are here.
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rafeslvbug · 14 hours ago
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LEAVE A LIGHT ON
context: months after your divorce, rafe still leaves his light on for you.
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you notice it three months after the divorce is finalised.
every night, like clockwork, rafe’s porch light turns on at around 9PM. he used to leave it on when you came home from work late, and you used to leave it on too. like a gentle reminder of where you had to go, what was waiting for you inside. comfort after long days. rafe thought of it as keeping you safe on the walk back to your shared house. it was a quiet gesture– not spoken out loud. but you both knew what it meant.
and now? you’re in separate houses, but the light is still on.
at first, you thought it was coincidence. just habit.
by the third week, you wondered if it might be deliberate.
by the sixth, it had you pissed off.
you glare at the light out your window, arms crossed over your chest, muttering, “he can’t keep doing that.”
but you don’t look away.
you still check each night when you get out of the car to make sure it’s there.
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it comes to a head on a thursday.
work was long. you were stuck with a client who couldn’t make their mind up, trapped in traffic for two hours and your co-worker said you looked “tired”.
you shut your car door, work bag on your shoulder, and the light flicks on. illuminating his porch, his house– as if you should be going there. and you’ve had enough.
you scoff, marching up the path to his door and knocking on it. you’re tired, and it would be best to just go home, forget about it, but you can’t. not when you know what it means.
rafe opens the door before you can knock, barefoot, shirtless and groggy. he rubs the back of his neck, eyes still adjusting, squinting. like he was waiting up for you.
“seriously?” you snap. “still with the light?”
he leans against the doorframe, hair messy, you can see the little bags under his eyes. he looks exhausted. you both are.
he looks almost…soft in a way, like a memory you never meant to revisit.
quietly, he whispers, “didn’t think you’d notice.”
you blink. “i live right there!” you point to the next door. consumed in black.
“yeah,” his eyes flick past yours to your porch. “yours is always off.”
“because i’m not waiting for anyone anymore.”you clench your jaw.
he smiles— but it’s the sad kind. the one that’s too honest. too raw in the late hour where he could never conceal his thoughts or emotions.
“i leave it on,” he says, voice slightly raspy, “just in case.”
“in case of what, rafe?”
his eyes meet yours. tired. vulnerable. real.
“in case you needed to come home.”
your stomach drops. eyebrows pinching together, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the wobbly frown about to cross your face.
“you’re not my home..and i’m not yours,” you say, but it comes out shaky.
he looks at you like he still disagrees. sympathetic, almost, that you believe that.
you stay there for a beat too long. under the yellow light. in the space between not over it, and definitely moved on.
then you go to your house before you can make a mistake you’ll regret. before you can go home.
rafe pulls into the carport one night, two days later. ten pm, tie hanging loosely around his neck, stressful day at work. his porch light’s on, still. but he’s sure it’s a trick of his fatigued state, that he swears it’s brighter tonight. rubbing his eyes, he turns around.
your porch light is on too.
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fckmebarnes · 3 days ago
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hehe wasn’t tagged but doin this anyways 🫶🏻
— currently reading: a few books! several people are typing by calvin kasulke (a book about capitalism and like corporate companies where a user gets stuck in his firms interface. formatted like a groupchat!) it started with a kiss by clare lydon (this is my lesbian book i go to where i need some cute stuff! a wedding planner meets a wine tester:/owner and they kiss in the bar bathroom for the first meet, then one of them ends up working for the wine company) and the last one is walking practice by dolki min! (this one is translated but it’s about an alien on earth who goes to find different host bodies)
— last song: nettles by ethel cain
— last series: 90 days hunt for love (my work show lol)
— sweet or savory: sweet!
— tea or coffee: coffee makes me incredibly anxious and sleepy because of my adhd and i don’t really like too many teas out there besides sweet tea lol
— working on: nothing at the moment, all the fic ideas are in my head. just been too busy to put something together at the moment but i wanna work on more professor!barnes
no pressure tags — @sharnarn @callmelinamfsnow @buckybarnesslutshop @stargazer-saturn @buckysleftbicep
TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW MORE
tried to reblog the original post but it was gone so here we are i guess. thanks for tagging me leigh!!!!! @poemeater <3 i love you to pluto and back come kiss me now
currently reading: nothing actually. walk of shame
last song: man in the mirror — michael jackson
last film: captain america brave new world
last series: new girl season 3, mha season 2 (rewatch), wbk s2
sweet/savory/salty?: savory + salty!!! but i would give up both kidneys for some cinnamon sugar pretzels rn
tea or coffee: tea always
working on: packing to move states in july, weeding through some rough friendships that no longer serve me, picking up guitar again, and. well. kinktober ‘25
no pressure tags 🤍 @carminechrollo @admiringlove @madaqueue @cheralith @bouqette @mochiqa @mosskissed @storiesoflilies @toadba @tokeposts @hiraethwrote sorry if you’ve been tagged i tried to choose people i haven’t tagged in awhile/at all hehe
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charmac · 1 day ago
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miedei · 8 hours ago
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bringing you back to earth
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a stressful day has you running to clark, and he knows just how to set you straight.
a/n: more superman hehe i have so much motivation all of a sudden
cw: clark kent x fem!reader, established relationship, smut mdni, comforting, thigh riding, praise, pronebone <3, finger sucking, putting r in a headlock, he's soooo nice and soooo horny
wc: 2.3k
mlist
(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )
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Bang.
The door shuts harder than you intended, but you can barely bring yourself to wince. Feet aching, you kick off your heels, shoving them haphazardly into the shoe rack by the door. Roughly hanging up your coat and bag, you shuffle into the living room in socked feet.
Your head’s killing you, a hand drifting up to rub at your temple. It’s like you have no awareness of anything around you, exhaustion narrowing your focus until all you can think about is this no-good, shitty day. 
Clark looks up from his spot on the sofa, and the weight on your chest lifts for a moment, but everything still suffocates. He can tell immediately, of course he does, lifting an arm to beckon you over as he puts away his book. 
You pad over without preamble, collapsing like a pile of limbs in his lap. A soft sigh leaves him, chest rumbling against yours as he rearranges you, biceps bulging as he lifts you into straddling his thighs, pulling your arms over his shoulders. 
There’s silence for a few seconds, Clark gazing into your eyes as you look off into the middle distance, mind stuck on everything but this moment. 
He squeezes your waist lightly. 
“What is it, baby?”
It takes a beat, but the words slowly come. 
“I don’t— I don’t know why I’m all… like this, but…”
He rubs an encouraging hand up your back, bringing stinging to your eyes. 
“I just had a shitty day. That presentation to the board was all messed up, the projector didn’t work and then I think they all got an email because they weren’t paying attention, then my manager gave me so much to do in like, less than a week, and—”
The all-consuming pressure starts up again, and the words dry up. 
Clark’s hands have migrated up, cupping either side of your face with a tenderness that makes you want to melt into him, if you could. His large thumbs swipe away the tears that drop to the apples of your cheeks, bringing a soothing heat with them. 
“Oh, honey…”
He’s more than experienced with all of your moods, but this one has only come up a couple of times in your relationship. When you get like this, stuck too far in your brain to be able to crawl out alone, you can be coaxed in different ways. 
“What do you need? I’ll give it to you, anything.”
He lowers his forehead to press it against yours.
You might need slow comfort, a bath with his searing-hot chest against your back. Or you could want to stay still, listen to his breathing until your quickened breaths slow to match his. Otherwise…
“Can you… Can you fuck me? Please?”
The plaintive request is followed by a heartbreaking sniffle, and he all but liquefies for you. 
Right. Sometimes you need to be overwhelmed by him, so much so that no other thought can even penetrate your mind. You need him to take the reins for once, to let you ride it out until even the notion of stress evaporates. 
He can’t lie, he relishes when you let him take care of you like this.
“Yeah, baby. Of course I will.”
Just the assent seems to relax you a little, your shoulders dropping just a little from where they were nearly touching your ears. 
A rush of pride runs through him. Knowing that he can have such an effect on you is a heady, intoxicating feeling. 
With a kiss to your temple, you feel his hands slip down to your thighs, wrapping your legs securely around his middle. With a soft grunt, he maneuvers up off the sofa, fingers tightening indulgently on the plush of your ass over your slacks as he guides you both into the bedroom. 
For a moment, all you feel is the warmth of his hands on your body, his hips against your pelvis. Once he lays you back on the sheets, you’re yearning for him, for him to get you better. 
“Please, Clark, want you to fix it.”
He nods down at you, laying his body over yours with careful precision. You love the feeling of his weight pressing against the length of your body, but you know he’s being cautious, making sure enough of him is braced on his elbow and knee so he won’t crush you.
“I will, just gotta be patient. Can you do that for me?”
His words have slowed, the enunciation much more pronounced. It causes your back to straighten subconsciously, your body reacting to his implicit command without a thought.
The room quiets until all you can hear is the drone of downtown Metropolis outside, and Clark’s slow, measured breaths. His hands have started to wander, broad, sweeping strokes up and down your side until his deft fingers meet your waistband. 
“Taking off your pants, sweetheart.”
You nod automatically, hips raising so he can pull off your slacks and panties in one go. His mouth has lowered to your jaw, lips brushing over the sensitive skin, making you shudder. 
“Want your shirt on or off?”
It’s muttered against your jaw, teeth scraping softly against you after his question. You need a few seconds to process it, but your answer comes quickly. 
“Off, please.”
He nods his assent, fingers slipping under your shirt and pushing the fabric up your chest. Raising your arms before he can ask, you allow him to shuck off both the shirt and bra, leaving you bare below him. 
His hands get to work immediately, greedily grabbing handfuls of flesh wherever he can. Groping at your chest, your stomach, your thighs, your thoughts follow him, reacquainting yourself with your body. 
His mouth has returned to your jaw, travelling the expanse of your neck to settle on your collarbone. 
“My smart girl, aren’t you? Always working so hard.”
He bites your skin softly, as if punctuating his statement. It prompts you to arch your back, pressing your body to him as hard as you can. You want him to get to it. 
“I know, I know. Be good, I’ll give you what you want.”
You’re expecting him to shift so his hand can snake down to the apex of your thighs, but he grips your waist firmly instead. In a sudden movement, he flips your positions on the bed, rearranging you so he’s the one settled against the many pillows, your legs spread to accommodate the bulk of his thighs under you. 
“Clark?”
Without responding to your question, he shifts you again, so your bare cunt is angled over one mouthwateringly wide thigh.
“I want you to get yourself there like this, baby. Can you do that for me?”
You’re a bit caught off guard, having expected him to lay you down and do the work for you, like he always does. But you can’t lie, his thigh does feel good pressed up against you, and you trust him. 
“I… Yeah. Yeah, I can.”
He shows his appreciation with a firm squeeze to your ass, lips curling up into a smile against your neck. 
You begin slowly, dragging your hips against the rough texture of denim over muscle. You’d expect it to be harsh, but every shift sends sparks up your spine, pleasure tinged with pain slowly bringing you back down to Earth. 
Clark doesn’t part from you, his large hands helping you move along his leg, mouth practically glued to any inch of skin he can access. 
It’s like you’ve fallen into a trance, tunnelvision until all you can think about is his thigh under you and his hands on you. 
“Clark, Clark, I—”
He soothes you with a soft cooing sound, lips travelling up to your forehead. 
“I know, baby. Feels good, huh? That’s good!”
His hands spur you on further, hips bucking wildly against him. There must be a wet patch on his jeans by now, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 
“You deserve to feel good, deserve— You deserve everything.” 
His voice is ragged, as if he’s the one getting off right now. Judging by the size of the tent in his pants, you suppose he is. 
You’re single-minded now, your only goal being getting yourself there. That just-out-of-reach, intangible climax that you’ll do anything to get. Clark seems to understand, his hands forcing you down further in his lap, grinding his thigh up until you cry out. 
He’s hit a perfect angle, pressing deliciously against your clit while giving you enough friction to want to hump him like a bunny. You’re damn near doing that anyway, hips moving incessantly against him. 
You’re cresting, getting higher and higher until, all at once, the wave comes rushing towards you, and you crash. Pleasure continues to arc up your spine, and you realise Clark was right. 
Your mind’s returned to you, and you feel more yourself than you did half an hour ago. It’s frankly overwhelming, and you choose to bury your face in his chest. 
Clark laughs breathlessly, a hand coming up to pet your hair affectionately. 
“Yeah? Feeling better?”
It takes some time before you’re recovered enough to come out, peering up at him with your chin pillowed on his chest. 
“Yeah…”
Your thought’s unfinished, though, and he knows it. He waits patiently for you to pipe up again. 
“But Clark?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Can we still fuck?”
He can’t help but laugh, chuckles vibrating his chest until you join him in his mirth. It takes him a moment until he can sober up, but you know he won’t deny you. 
“Of course, baby. I’m never going to say no to that.”
With that, he surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing, filthy kiss that puts you in a haze. 
Even within that haze, you’re eagerly moving, knowing exactly what you want. 
He watches you get off his lap, watches as you stretch your legs out with a languid moan, and watches as you settle on your stomach on the sheets next to him, looking up with a cheeky grin. 
“This okay?”
Your Cheshire-cat grin only widens when you see him scramble to tear off his clothes, feeling him settle on his knees between your parted legs. 
You know he loves to have you like this, lying prone under him as he gets to overwhelm you with everything he’s got. But this is also for you. The feeling of him laying all his weight on you from behind never fails to ground you, and this will do wonders for bringing that last bit of you out from the cold. 
He lays his body over yours gingerly, pelvis pressing to your ass as he makes sure his weight is distributed evenly over you. It pushes a satisfied sigh from your lips, feeling rooted to the spot in the most wonderful way. 
It doesn’t hurt that you can feel the fervent heat of his cock, nestled between your thighs. You can feel that one vein of his pressed up against your slit, shuddering with anticipation as you recall how it feels inside you. 
One arm is laid on the bed next to your head, forearm so close that you could bite it. His other arm moves down, down, until he can grab himself, lining him up with your dripping entrance. 
With a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, Clark pushes forward. 
The burning stretch is blissful, the weight of his body on top of yours even more so. The gasps and moans leave your mouth unbidden by you, unable to resist the allure of his slow, solid thrusts. 
The vein is nudging perfectly against your walls, and the near-suffocating feeling gets your head right. 
“Good— God, you feel good. You good, baby?”
“Y-yeah, feels so good, Clark,”
You can’t finish your sentence, a particularly dirty grind of his hips against yours robbing you of the ability to speak. Each knock of his pelvis against you leaves you openmouthed, craving just a little more. 
His hand is right there, by your face, if you could just…
It’s like he can hear your thoughts, moving his left hand so he can cup your jaw a little. 
“What is it, babe? Y’want something… Oh.”
You don’t bother asking, craning your neck so you can envelop two fingers with your lips. 
The rough pads of his fingers brush against your tongue, and you feel sated, finally. He smells exactly like he should, soap, sweat, and something uniquely him that has you humming around his digits. 
A deep, guttural groan looses itself from his throat as he feels you suck on his fingers, sending yet another shiver down your spine. As if possessed, his free hand moves up to your neck, the length of his arm carefully wrapping around your most vulnerable area. 
He’s put you in a headlock, and you’ve been sent to heaven. 
Crowding you even further into the sheets, Clark lets loose, drunk on the sight of you. Gone are the slow, soft movements. Instead, he’s rutting feverishly into you, chasing the high that you’re approaching as well. 
With the cumulative pressure of his fingers on your tongue, his bicep digging into your throat, and the sounds of his moans, it’s no surprise that you’re falling apart nearly immediately. Tremors run through the length of your body, and you know your leg would be shaking if he didn’t have you pinned down. 
Clark, ever the giver, reaches his peak at the first sight of yours. His hips stutter once, twice, against you, until he pushes in as deep as possible, as if to ensure you’ll stay right there. 
You have no reason to leave, not when the stress that weighed you down has been lifted off your shoulders with his careful hands.
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anglbunny · 2 days ago
Text
OPERATION: PRINCESS GOJO - S.GOJO
fluff, crack, gojo's a pretty princess
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The house is filled with the warm smell of food — garlic, sesame oil, soy sauce, and the faintest hint of something sweet browning in the oven.
You’re humming to yourself in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands busy chopping green onions when the thump thump thump of tiny feet barrels down the hallway.
And behind her — the heavier, exaggerated stomps of the man she’s dragging by the hand.
“Mommy!” your daughter cries, all breathless energy and sparkly socks, “we need Daddy for something very important!”
You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Gojo getting yanked through the living room by the wrist, his body floppy like a ragdoll, face twisted into mock agony.
“She said she has summoned me,” he tells you dramatically. “I think I’m being kidnapped.”
“You’re being turned into a princess,” she corrects, huffing. “A real sparkle one.”
Gojo gasps. “Sparkle royalty? Oh no. That sounds serious.”
“It is! You need sparkles and lipstick and the tiara I made out of pipe cleaners.”
You laugh under your breath, wiping your hands on a towel. “Just don’t use my good makeup this time.”
Gojo calls out as she drags him away, “What if I wanna look snatched, babe?!”
“No glitter glue on his eyelids this time!” you shout after them.
Your daughter yells back, “TOO LATE!”
Ten minutes later, as you’re stirring the sauce, you hear it.
The telltale shuffle of slippered feet on hardwood.
“Do NOT laugh,” Gojo’s voice calls from the hallway.
You look up — and immediately start choking on a laugh.
There he stands, all 6'3" of the strongest sorcerer alive, in a pink tulle skirt, a sparkly blue feather boa, and lipstick smeared all the way to his cheekbone.
His lashes are clumped with glitter mascara, and his cheeks are violently red with two uneven smears of blush.
And on his head?
The crooked, wobbly pipe cleaner tiara.
Your daughter stands beside him, arms crossed proudly, a little makeup sponge in one hand and a heart sticker stuck to her forehead.
“I now present…” she says with a grand gesture, “Princess Sugar Sparkle Explosion the First!”
Gojo bows — tiara nearly falling off — and gives you an exaggerated wink.
You snort. “Oh, you are never living this down.”
He grins. “Tell that to Her Highness here.”
She grins up at him, arms wrapping tight around his leg. “You’re the prettiest princess, Daddy.”
Gojo melts instantly, crouching down and letting her plant a sticky kiss on his glitter-covered cheek.
“And you,” he whispers, bumping his nose against hers, “are my sparkliest girl.” Gojo grins before coming up behind you. "oh god, please don't kiss me, i'm gonna see this in my nightmares" you laugh, exaggerating.
Gojo smirks, lips landing on your cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain on your cheek, it looks more like a blob but that's fine. you giggle, trying to push him away. Gojo then turns to your daughter and kissing her face as well, leaving a red mark.
you smile softly, watching them.
They’re a mess. Your kitchen’s a mess. Gojo’s face is definitely a mess.
But this?
This is perfect.
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TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan @ethxrxxlity @elegantmakercoffee
A/n: coping
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
[Masterlist]
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slightly-knot-insane · 2 days ago
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Can we get someeeee... Shy Chubby reader with a suave playboy knight? Perhaps she's brushed off all his advances, not thinking he was serious about it. Maybe that just spurred him on to become even more serious about it, getting him stuck thinking about her more and more!
Forge Through
[ m!gargoyle x fem!reader ]
a/n: feel free to always imagine my readers as chubby. i've been chubby my whole life and curvy or chubby are my standard body types i just don't emphasize that lol. reader isn't as shy as you expected, but she is an introvert content: nsfw, mild angst, body worship, mild praise kink, p in v, creampie, oral (female receiving)
You've been friends for quite some time. And flirting has always been part of your playful chats. Any kind of conversation would easily slip into sexy banter. How wouldn't it? You were the blacksmith's young assistant, and he was a recently knighted gargoyle. Metal and stone were in both of your blood, and you hit it off right away. Which was rather strange for you since you've always been painfully shy. But he somehow managed to loosen you up with his quirky jokes and euphemisms. Your cheeks would hurt from smiling, but luckily, the blush was basically invisible because of the constant heat inside your mentor's smithy.
"Here's my favourite blacksmith!" As soon as he enters, ostentatious as always, he removes his helmet and gauntlets and kisses you on the cheek. Ever since he was knighted, he has worn his full armour almost everywhere, even though he didn't actually need it, being made of stone and all. "Always working so hard, beautiful."
"Of course," you reply. "Someone needs to fix all the dents you get from scorned exes after you steal their girls."
"Oh, you wound me!" He slams his stone fist against his metal plate. "Those dents are from our country's enemies. I serve my lord with my whole heart... just as I would love to serve you."
You chuckle, wiping your sweaty forehead. "Serve me? Serve me what - a beer? That would be nice, actually."
Your gargoyle friend stays quiet for a minute or two, as you work. He turns away from you and removes his breastplate. His undershirt is sweaty and sticking to his muscular body. You bite your lip.
"I would, you know?" His voice resembles a wave softly crashing against pebbles. "I would serve you. If you asked me to."
You stop your hammer from hitting the anvil. Utterly confused, you look at him, expecting his broad shoulders to shake from laughter. But they are not. "What do you mean by serve?"
"Oh, you know..." He starts pacing up and down the workshop, avoiding looking at you. "To please you... take you out somewhere... woo you... make love to you..."
You're not sure you heard him correctly. It can't be. He's a notorious flirt and has been fooling around with more people than you know. He always brags about his adventures and lovers, and how 'his heart still yearns to be forged by a different kind of flame'. Whatever that means. And it hurts. It hurts to hear him boast about his trysts, all while you only get titillated. "Please stop with your teasing, I'm too busy for that right now."
You are upset. Why are you upset? It's stupid, and you're not stupid. He is just playing with you, as always. And yet, with a hiss of steam, heavy tears hit the hot metal still standing on the anvil.
"Are you crying?" Your gargoyle friend is next to you, pulling you into a hug. Your face is squished against his hard chest. "No, no, no, what did I say? What did I say?"
You push yourself away, trying to stop angry tears. "That's the problem! You say too much! And don't mean it! You want to serve me? Ha, what a joke! That's what I am - a joke to you."
"What?" He runs his fingers through his long hair. "No, never. You were never a joke to me. I've always... liked you. And more than that."
"But..." You shake your head. "But weren't we just... joking around?"
He slowly cups your cheek. "I wasn't."
You recall all the times when he showed genuine affection: his little gifts, his thoughtfulness, his acts of service. Not even for a second did you think they were romantic. How can someone as handsome and popular as he is like someone as painfully antisocial as you?
"Let me show you. Let me show you how serious I am about you." He pulls you closer to him as he leans down to kiss you. And you let him. Not only that, you let him in.
You allow his mouth to cover yours, you let his arms roam around your body, undress you, caress you. His hungry mouth licks your lips and leaves bite marks all over your voluptuous body. He worships your wide hips and soft tummy, kissing them with fervour as strong as your forge. In one quick sweep of his strong arm, he clears one of your mentor's workbenches, lifts you up on it, and eats you out until you're a quivering mess, ready to fall apart in front of him.
"The only one I truly want to serve," he says from between your warm and plush thighs. "Moan for me more. I want to know what you like. Exactly what you like."
And you do. You don't stop even after you cum the first time, because he immediately flips you over and enters you from behind. He plays with your nipples as he bites your neck, and his massive cock lights up your insides.
Your strong arms barely withstand his weight as he pushes his body onto yours, rutting against your ass until he hears you climax one more time. Then he follows, releasing his load into your sore pussy.
"Do you believe me now?" he asks as he kisses your shoulder. "Do you believe I want to be your knight and servant?
You can barely talk from underneath him. "Is that... ahh... is that what you meant by 'my heart yearns to be forged by a different kind of flame'?"
His cock twitches inside you. "Exactly. Took you long enough to decipher that, beautiful. The only heat, the only flame I need is yours."
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dragoneyelashart · 1 day ago
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HOME TO YOU
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𖤓 SMUT + FLUFF.
𖤓 synopsis :: a little late night date night with your wife
𖤓 warnings :: fingering, oral (r receiving)
au :: ceo!billie x reader
a/n :: it's kinda a long one y'all....also very much not proofread so 🤓
you check the time on your phone as the elevator climbs. 8:17 p.m.
you were supposed to meet billie at 7:30. she made the reservation herself,  had been talking about it all week, how it’d been months since the two of you had a real night out. no interruptions. no work. no parenting. just the two of you again.
you’d meant to leave the house by 7. you were halfway through your makeup when the babysitter texted. stuck in traffic. “i’m so sorry, i’m coming as fast as i can.”
so you waited. touched up your makeup, checked the clock. you hear soft padded footsteps coming down the hallway, looking to the side you see your daughter, she stood by the her matching pajamas, eyes glossy and wide, clutching her favorite stuffed animal.
she clambered into your lap like she’d done it a hundred times, which she had, her little legs folding easily over your thighs, her cheek pressing into your chest. you held her there for a minute, her warmth grounding you.
“what are you doing?” she asked, lifting her head, eyeing your blush palette.
“getting ready for my date with mama,” you whispered, brushing the fly away hairs out of her face.
she blinked up at you with that serious little face. “you look pretty,” “thank you, baby,” you said, voice thick. then you picked up your blush brush, swirled it in the pan just a little, and gave her a teasing grin.
“now you need a little something,” you said.
“mommy, nooo,” she squealed, already giggling as you tapped the brush lightly against her cheek.
“what?” you teased, brushing it across her nose next. “it’s your big night too.”
she dissolved into laughter, her little hands swatting at the air. “nooo! i’m not going on the date!”
“sure you are,” you said, smiling. “you’re the reason we’re late.”
you both laughed, her curled into you, your brush forgotten somewhere in the folds of your skirt. for a moment, the world was just you and her, warm and glowing and still.
when the baby sitter arrived she came apologetic, all flustered. you smiled and waved it off.
then came the hard part, the part where your daughter’s face crumpled, lip trembling, arms reaching.
“don’t go,” she cried. “please don’t go, mommy.”
you knelt down, heels sinking into the hallway rug, and held her tight. told her you loved her. told her it was just dinner. that you’d be home soon. that mama missed you too and needed some time with you all to herself for once.
and eventually, after soft lullabies and another round of kisses, her eyes fluttered shut in your arms.
you tucked her into bed. whispered i love you into her hair. promised you'd be home before the sun came up.
now it’s 8:17, and you're smoothing your hands down the sides of your dress in the elevator’s mirror, trying to steady yourself. your lipgloss still intact. you smell like billie’s favorite perfume. the one she buries her face into when she hugs you from behind in the kitchen. the one she swears makes her dizzy if you’re too close for too long.
your phone buzzes in your purse, a text.
baby 💗:still here. don’t rush. i’m yours all night.
you smile to yourself. tuck the phone away.
the elevator dings softly as the doors open onto her floor, top floor, private, quiet. the whole office has that end-of-day hush, just low lighting and the occasional shuffle of someone packing up their things.
you walk out, heels clicking softly against the marble.
linda looks up from her desk as you approach, her eyes lighting up when she sees you.
“well don’t you look like a movie star,” she says, smiling wide.
you laugh gently, smoothing your dress again. “thank you, linda. is she still in?”
“of course. hasn’t moved from that desk in hours.” she leans in a little, voice dropping like she’s sharing a secret. “but her mood’s been better since about twenty minutes ago. wonder why.”
you smile, cheeks warm. “i might have something to do with that.”
“you definitely do. go on in, sweetheart.”
you walk the short hallway to her office, your heart beating a little faster now. the door is closed, but the blinds are drawn open, and there she is.
billie.
she’s at her desk, still in her suit, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair a little wild like she’s been running her fingers through it all day. her laptop’s open, papers scattered around her in neat chaos. there’s an untouched coffee next to her elbow, and she’s scribbling something on a legal pad like the world might end if she stops.
you knock softly once, then open the door.
her head lifts instantly.
she sees you, and everything in her face just drops. like the breath leaves her body.
“oh…”
her voice is low. reverent.
she stands slowly, eyes never leaving you.
“baby.”
you step in, letting the door close behind you, the sound of the office fading out.
her eyes travel down your body, slow and unblinking.
you don’t say anything right away. you let her look. let her take you in. you wore this dress for her. this perfume for her. your hair curled, pressed your lips together with that soft gloss, slipped on jewelry she bought you two anniversaries ago, and your wedding ring placed perfectly on your ring finger.
just for this. just for her.
“thought we had a date, mrs. eilish,” you finally say, soft and teasing.
her whole body sags, like that’s the first real breath she’s taken all day.
“we do,” she says, stepping around the desk. “we do. i just got buried in this stupid report and the board meeting got pushed and i kept checking the time thinking, i have to leave, i have to leave, but then you said you’d come here and…”
she stops right in front of you.
you lift a hand, smoothing a piece of her hair back into place.
“hey,” you whisper. “it’s okay. i’m here.”
she leans in and wraps her arms around you. not some casual end-of-day hug, no. it’s full-body, full-heart, desperate in that quiet way.
you can feel her breathing against your shoulder. her nose brushes your neck.
“you look unreal,” she mumbles into your skin. “i can’t believe we’re married”
you smile, your cheek pressed to hers. “you’re dramatic, we’ve been married for 3 years baby.”
“well i can still be obsessed, my love”
she kisses your neck once. then your jaw. then pulls back just enough to look at you. her eyes are a little glassy, a little dazed.
“thank you for coming to get me.”
“of course i came to get you,” you whisper. “you’re mine.”
she kisses you once, soft and slow, fingers tightening against your waist like she doesn’t want to let go.
“you hungry?” you murmur against her lips.
“starving,” she says. 
you laugh, tugging her hand gently.
“let’s go, baby.”
she laces her fingers through yours and follows like it’s instinct. like she never wants to be anywhere else again.
and when you step back out into the office, linda gives a little knowing smile and waves.
“you two have fun,” she says, already turning off her monitor.
“lock up for me?” billie calls over her shoulder.
“always,” linda says.
you both make your way down the elevator, hand in hand, billie quiet but visibly softer now. lighter. like being near you peeled something heavy off her shoulders.
when the doors open at the lobby, thomas is waiting outside beside the car. he opens the back door, nodding politely.
“evening, you two.”
“evening,” you both say, almost in sync.
you slide in first, then billie, and the door shuts behind you. the city lights start moving past the window.
billie’s hand finds your thigh under your dress, her thumb rubbing slow, absent-minded circles. she leans over and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek.
and it’s quiet for a while, tired quiet, good quiet. her head resting lightly against yours, her fingers still moving.
the car glides through the city like a lullaby, all gold lights and muted sounds, and for a moment, you forget the rush of the day. you just lean into billie, her hand still warm on your thigh, your head tilted against hers.
she’s quiet, but not in a heavy way. just peaceful. her fingers trace slow shapes along your skin like she’s drawing reminders. you’re here. i’m here. you made it.
you don’t say much on the drive, just a few soft jokes, a couple tired smiles. her lips brush your knuckles when she lifts your hand to kiss it. the kind of silence that feels like love, not absence.
thomas pulls up to the restaurant, a cozy little spot tucked into a side street, candlelit and quiet, the kind of place you both bookmarked forever ago but never found the time for. until now.
he opens the door and billie steps out first, then helps you out like it’s second nature. always the hand at your lower back, the door held open, her eyes flicking down to make sure your heel doesn’t catch on the curb.
“table for eilish,” she tells the host, and he lights up immediately. clearly recognizes her, but doesn’t make a scene. just smiles and nods.
“right this way.”
you’re seated in the corner, tucked away from the rest of the restaurant, the lighting low and warm. billie pulls your chair out for you, waits until you’re settled before sitting across from you.
you watch her exhale as she leans back, one hand running through her hair. she looks exhausted, but beautiful. soft around the edges. her eyes a little glassy from the low light and the wine you haven’t ordered yet.
you reach across the table and take her hand. her fingers curl around yours like instinct.
“hi,” you whisper, just because.
she smiles. “hi.”
the waiter comes, and you both order without thinking too hard, you’ve been talking about the menu for weeks. she gets the thing she always said she’d try first. you get the pasta that makes her eyes go wide when she reads it again.
when the waiter leaves, billie sighs again, shaking her head like she’s still coming down from her day.
“thank you for coming to get me,” she says again, voice quiet.
you squeeze her hand. “i’d pick you up every day if you let me.”
she smiles, but it’s crooked, a little tired, a little emotional.
“i know it’s been a lot lately,” she murmurs. “with work. and the little one. and us not really… being us. i hate that.”
you rub your thumb over her knuckles. “we’re still us. even on the hard days.”
“yeah,” she says, eyes on yours. “but i miss this us. the dressed-up-for-each-other, hand-holding, lipgloss-and-blush-brush, private-table kind of us.”
your throat tightens a little at that, the way she said it. like she’s been carrying it quietly for a while.
“me too,” you whisper. “but this… right now? this is enough.”
and it is. because when the food comes, you don’t stop smiling. she makes you laugh halfway through your wine glass. you feed her bites off your plate and she calls you greedy for stealing her dessert. her foot nudges yours under the table like she’s flirting with you all over again. like it’s the first time you met all over again. 
by the time the check comes, she’s glowing. not in a flashy way, just… soft. real. her eyes are warmer, her laugh is freer. you can feel her hand resting gently on your knee, like she doesn’t want to break the contact, not even for a second.
you leave the restaurant hand-in-hand again. thomas is already waiting. the car door opens. billie helps you in, tucks the hem of your dress inside so it doesn’t catch. slides in after you, and this time, the silence between you hums with something heavier. slower. intimate.
she leans into you, her nose brushing your cheek. her lips kiss just below your jaw, soft and patient. her fingers find your thigh again, stroking gently.
“ready to go home?” she murmurs.
you nod. “always.”
her mouth catches yours for a moment, not rushed. just steady and full.
and when you pull away, she rests her forehead against yours, breath warm. fingers still drawing slow, lazy lines across your skin.
her mouth doesn’t leave yours for long.
the car’s dark, the windows tinted, and the city lights flicker in and out like stars through water. billie’s hand is on your thigh again, but it’s higher now, fingers pressing into your skin, slow and steady. not rushing. not asking. just there.
her lips are hot against yours, her kiss a little deeper now, like she’s been waiting all week for this moment. and maybe she has, the way her mouth moves over yours says everything she hasn’t had time to.
you slide your hand into her hair, tug just slightly, and she exhales into you like you’ve flipped a switch.
“fuck,” she breathes, voice low. “you’re gonna kill me in this dress, ma.”
“you like it?” you murmur, lips brushing her jaw as you speak.
“like it?” her teeth graze your lower lip. “i wanna rip it off you.”
you laugh, breathless, and kiss her again before she can say anything else. her hands shift, sliding up under the hem of your dress just enough to graze bare skin, your hip, the inside of your thigh, not greedy, just teasing. memorizing.
your bodies press close in the dark backseat, like the world outside doesn’t exist. it’s warm, a little breathless. she kisses you like she’s starving, like she’s grateful, like this, right here, is the first time she’s been able to breathe all day.
and god, you want her.
you kiss down her neck, just below her jaw, and she lets out the softest sound, a half-moan, half-sigh, her head tipping back against the seat. one of her hands fists gently in the back of your dress. the other stays at your thigh, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles.
you don’t even notice when the car slows to a stop.
thomas clears his throat from the front, barely audible. “we’re here.”
billie groans softly against your shoulder. “he would have perfect timing.”
you giggle, pulling back just enough to fix her smudged lipstick with your thumb. “we have all night.”
she leans in, presses one last kiss to your lips, a soft, open-mouthed promise, then slips out of the car. you follow, breath still shallow, skin warm where she touched you.
the front steps feel like forever, but eventually the door clicks open and the house folds around you like a familiar warmth. cozy. quiet. safe.
billie toes her shoes off with a sigh, her hand still resting low on your back. you say your thanks to the babysitter, paying her a little extra before she leaves. 
“i’ll be right back,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “just wanna see my girl.”
you nod. “i’ll be in our room.”
you both split, her down the hall, you upstairs. the nursery light glows under the door as she slips inside, and you keep walking, heart full.
in your bedroom, it’s dim and soft. you slip your heels off, set your purse down on the chair, and make your way to the vanity. the one she bought for you after you had moved in. your reflection is flushed, a little dazed from the ride home, lipgloss worn off from kisses. you smile at yourself, just a little.
you reach for the wipes, then the micellar water, the cotton pads. you start slow, eyes first, gentle swipes over your lids. mascara lifts off like ink. your fingers are steady, your body still humming from her touch.
you pause, glancing over at the open bathroom door, the lights already on in there, waiting. 
you go back to your makeup, humming under your breath, and you don’t even hear her footsteps until she’s leaning in the doorway behind you.
“she’s out cold,” billie says softly, arms crossed, voice full of love. “bunny in one arm, pacifier half-out of her mouth. cutest thing i’ve ever seen. besides you.”
you meet her eyes in the mirror, cheeks warming.
she crosses the room in a few quiet steps, her hand sliding into yours, warm, familiar, grounding, and you don’t even have to ask before she’s guiding you toward the bathroom.
“c’mere,” she murmurs, her voice that perfect middle ground between gentle and firm.
you follow easily. you always do.
the lights are dim in the bathroom, golden and low, and the marble floor cool under your bare feet. billie stops in front of the vanity, hands slipping to your waist, and with a quiet, wordless nudge, she lifts you up onto the counter like it’s nothing.
you gasp a little, more from surprise than anything, but she just smiles, hands smoothing along your thighs once you’re seated.
“perfect view,” she says, voice playful but soft, eyes dragging slowly up your body.
you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “thought you were drawing me a bath, not flirting with me.”
“can’t i do both?” she leans in, presses a kiss to your shoulder, then the base of your neck. “i’m multi-talented.”
you let your legs fall open a little, her hips slotting between them naturally. she kisses you again, this time slow and sweet, her hands resting just above your knees before finally stepping back.
“don’t move,” she says, like a promise.
you don’t.
she turns toward the tub, bends over to twist the knobs. you watch the muscles move under her blouse, the way her shoulders slope down with tiredness but still work through it. you whistle softly at the way she bends, a fit of giggles escaping your mouth afterwards. the sound of water rushing into the tub fills the room, soft and steady. she tests the temperature with her fingers, adjusts it a little, then pours in the lavender soak you both keep hidden behind the candles.
steam starts to curl in the air.
“how hot?” she asks without looking.
“just like that,” you say. “perfect.”
she hums in approval, stays crouched beside the tub a moment longer, making sure it doesn’t overflow. then she stands, turning back to you, eyes soft, lips parted.
“you want help?”
you nod, wordless.
she comes closer again, stands between your knees and reaches for the zipper at your side. her fingers work slow, deliberate, tugging it down with care. the sound of it unzipping is loud in the quiet, just barely audible over the water.
she pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, eyes following every inch of skin she reveals. her knuckles graze your collarbone, your chest, then lower.
you raise your arms and let her pull the dress up and off, leaving you in your bra and panties. her eyes drag over you like she’s memorizing, not just looking.
“gosh, you’re…” she doesn’t even finish the thought, just leans in and kisses you again. deeper now.
your hands go to her shirt, fingers slipping under the buttons, one at a time.
but she pulls back, smiling gently. “bath first, baby. i want you warm and clean and soft before anything else.”
you pout, dramatically, of course, and she laughs, nudging your chin with her knuckle.
“trust me,” she murmurs. “it’ll be worth it.”
you slide off the counter with her help, stepping carefully out of the last of your clothes. she helps you unclasp your bra, rolls down your panties with reverence, not rush.
and then she holds out a hand, guiding you to the tub like she’s leading you into something sacred.
you step in, sighing as the water wraps around you. your shoulders relax, your spine eases. the warmth seeps into your bones.
she kneels beside the tub, reaching for a cloth. “lean back, mama. let me take care of you.”
you lean back like she says, the water swallowing you whole, steam curling around your skin. your eyes flutter shut for a second, head resting against the edge of the tub.
she dips the cloth in, wrings it out slowly, then runs it over your shoulder with a featherlight touch. she moves with such focus, like you’re art she’s afraid to ruin. your eyes open again just in time to catch the look on her face, tender, a little dazed. like she still can’t believe you’re hers.
“you good?” you ask, voice soft.
“mhm,” she hums, sliding the cloth across your collarbone. “jus’ thinking bout how lucky i am, and how beautiful you are”
you tilt your head, smiling. “you know what else i am?”
she raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “what?”
you flick water at her.
she gasps, jerking back like it actually did damage. “rude.”
you laugh, bright and open, and do it again, a bigger splash this time, catching her right in the middle of her chest.
“oh, you wanna fight,” she says, already rolling up her sleeves, eyes sparkling.
“get in, eilish,” you say through your grin, leaning forward in the water. “don’t make me soak you.”
she stands, feigning exasperation. “you’re lucky i love you.”
“uh-huh,” you taunt. “you just want to be naked.”
“also that.”
she starts undoing the rest of her buttons, slowly, dramatically, just to make you squirm. her shirt slides off her shoulders, soft fabric hitting the floor. then comes the pants, her fingers pausing at the waist for one last teasing glance.
“you gonna keep staring or make room?”
you move forward instantly, water sloshing around your body.
“there we go,” she murmurs, stepping in behind you.
the second her body slips into the water, your back presses against her chest. her arms come around you like instinct, hands resting on your belly, her mouth at your shoulder.
you sigh, eyes fluttering shut again.
“see,” she whispers, kissing the curve of your neck, “you were right.”
“’bout what?”
“this is better.”
you hum, relaxed and warm, her skin slick against yours, water cradling you both.
“i know,” you murmur, smiling into the steam. “i always am.”
she chuckles, low in your ear. “whatever you say, mrs. eilish.”
you lose track of time in the bath.
maybe ten minutes. maybe thirty. all you know is her body warm behind yours, her hands on your stomach or slipping up your arms, thumbs brushing soft over your ribs like she’s grounding herself with the feel of you. she presses kisses to your shoulder, then your jaw, then behind your ear. every now and then you hear her hum a song, under her breath, barely there, and your whole body just melts.
eventually, the water cools. her fingers trail down your arms one last time, and then she shifts behind you.
“come on, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “let’s get you into something cozy.”
you nod, voice gone quiet with comfort. she helps you stand, careful not to let the water slosh over the edge. towels are already set out. she wraps one around your shoulders, then takes another and starts gently patting your legs dry like it’s just another part of loving you.
you let her.
you lean into her every touch, and she doesn’t rush it, dries you off piece by piece, your thighs, your calves, the inside of your arms. she helps you step out, wraps the towel tighter around you, and presses one soft kiss to your sternum before rising.
her own hair is wet now, ends curling slightly from the steam, and her skin glows. you grab a fresh towel and start drying her off, mirroring what she did. she smiles and lets you take care of her the way she always takes care of you.
you both pad into the bedroom in nothing but towels, warm and clean and quiet. she digs through the dresser and tosses you one of her softest t-shirts, the green one, worn at the collar, one you always steal. you tug it on, no bra, no shorts. she does the same, just boxers and one of your hoodies.
you sit at the vanity again to finish your skincare, and she comes up behind you, watching in the mirror as you dab eye cream under your lashes.
she runs her fingers down your arms gently. you grab the lotion but billie is quick to stop you, asking if she could do it instead. 
you hand her your lotion to and let her lead you to your bed. you let your eyes flutter shut as she massages it into your shoulders, your neck, the slope of your collarbones. her touch is slow, not sexual, not yet. just loving. like she’s pouring everything she can’t say into the press of her hands.
when you finally crawl into bed, the lights low and the sheets cool against your clean skin, you turn toward her immediately.
her hand slides over your waist, then up your back. your nose brushes hers. your lips meet, not rushed this time, not teasing.
just soft.
she kisses you like she’s home.
you melt into her, one hand sliding under her shirt, fingertips tracing the line of her spine. her breath hitches just a little, and she tilts her head, deepens the kiss. still slow. still quiet.
but heavier now. warmer.
she shifts closer, presses her thigh between yours.
and you sigh against her mouth.
“you okay?” she whispers, brushing your hair back from your face.
“mhm,” you breathe. “i just… missed this.”
“me too,” she says, voice tight with feeling. “so much.”
your lips meet again, and this time, it lingers, long and lazy. her tongue slides against yours, soft and deliberate. her hand drifts down your back, over your hip, and then she pulls you closer, flush against her.
you can feel her heartbeat.
her breath is warm at your ear. “let me show you how much i missed this, mama”
you nod.
her lips move slow over your neck, just barely open. not sucking, not biting,  just pressing. her breath hits your skin in warm waves, and your hands fist lightly in the fabric of her hoodie.
you whisper her name, just once, real quiet, and she pulls back to look at you, eyes flickering across your face like she’s memorizing every detail.
she kisses you again, slower this time, deeper. her hand slides under the hem of your shirt, skin meeting skin. her palm skates up your stomach, then up to cup your chest, thumb brushing gentle over your nipple. you gasp softly into her mouth, arching just a little into her hand.
she smiles against your lips. “missed the way you sound.”
your fingers curl into the back of her neck, anchoring her there. “then don’t stop.”
she doesn’t.
she takes her time with you, so much time. everything about it feels intentional. her kisses, the way her fingers move, the way she sighs against your skin like being this close to you physically soothes something raw inside her.
you feel it too, how being touched like this doesn’t just feel good, it feels like being known.
her hand slides lower, down the soft curve of your belly, then between your thighs. she doesn’t rush, just grazes you first, slow and teasing, until your hips are moving toward her hand without you even thinking.
“so soft,” she murmurs, dragging her knuckles gently up your inner thigh. “so perfect.”
you whine, breath catching when her fingers finally slip between your folds, not too much pressure, just enough to make your spine curl.
“yeah?” she whispers, watching you. “that feel good, mama?”
“mmhmm,” you breathe, hand tightening on her hair. “don’t stop.”
she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then down your throat. “you know i won’t my love”
her fingers keep moving slow, patient, like she’s not trying to push you anywhere too fast, just letting you ride the rhythm until you’re breathless, legs trembling slightly around her wrist. she works you open carefully, lovingly. and when she finally slides two fingers inside, your back arches with a gasp.
she groans softly at the way you wrap around her, like even she can’t take it.
“jus' so perfect,” she whispers. “you were made f'me my love”
your hands slide to her back, fingers splaying there. “billie…”
“i’m right here,” she murmurs. “i’m not going anywhere.”
her thumb finds your clit and you cry out, biting your lip to muffle it, hips grinding down against her hand instinctively. her lips are back on yours in a heartbeat, swallowing the sound, grounding you in that kiss.
it builds slow, like a tide coming in, warm and steady, wave after wave. and she’s right there with you through all of it, murmuring little things into your skin: “so pretty when you cum f’me” and “that’s it, baby, come on,”
your release rushes through you in soft, warm pulses, and she holds you through it, her fingers never stopping, her lips pressed to your cheek, your neck, your temple. you breathe heavy against her collarbone, eyes fluttering, skin flushed and damp.
you’re half asleep, muscles soft and limp, head tucked under her chin. the room is still, the kind of silence that only comes after you’ve been thoroughly loved.
but billie’s hand is still moving.
slow circles over your lower back, just barely dipping under the hem of the shirt she let you keep on. fingers ghosting over your skin, trailing warmth and want.
you murmur something incoherent, nuzzling closer.
“you still awake?” she whispers, voice rough with sleep and something heavier underneath.
you hum, not quite answering.
her hand slips lower, over your ass, then between your thighs again, fingers gentle but curious. and you gasp, hips twitching, not expecting the way it already starts to ache again.
“fuck,” she breathes, kissing the corner of your jaw. 
you blink slowly, heat flooding your belly. “billie…”
she pulls back just enough to see your face, to catch the dazed, needy look in your eyes.
and then she smiles.
soft.
“need to taste you, baby. please?” she murmurs, kissing your collarbone. 
your breath catches. she rarely asks, not like this. not pleading but still in control, like she knows exactly what she wants and exactly how you’re going to give it to her.
you nod before you can think. “yeah. fuck— yes.”
she kisses down your chest, lifting the hem of the shirt just enough to kiss the soft skin of your stomach, the dip of your navel, the top of your thigh.
“lie back,” she whispers, already moving the covers down.
you do. spread out for her, legs parting as she kneels between them, her hands sliding up your thighs with that same reverent touch. like she’s still not over the fact that you’re hers.
she presses a kiss to your inner knee. then higher. higher.
you whimper, hips shifting toward her, already aching.
“always so sweet. jus’ wanna be your perfect wife” she says quietly, eyes locked on yours. 
“please. billie, please…” you breathe. 
and that’s all it takes.
she leans in tongue pressing flat against your folds, dragging up with unhurried pressure. and your hips jerk at the contact, the feeling so much after being so sensitive already.
she moans into you like it’s the best thing she’s tasted all night.
and then she settles in. arms hooked under your thighs, holding you open like a prayer. her mouth is unrelenting, steady and slow, then fast and shallow, then slow again. she reads your body like a song she’s memorized.
your hand finds her hair, tangling in the soft black strands.
“fuck, billie—” you gasp, “i’m—i can’t—”
she pulls back just enough to whisper, breath hot against your soaked skin
“that’s it mama, c’mon, come f’me”
© dragoneyelashart
𖤓taglist :: @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @chrissv4mp @karaeilish @peytonneilish @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone @vijaxx @thinkshespretty @cantlandonmyfeet @emi-inspace @marieilish1823 @rubyszjuno @belovedbil @hopingforgoodblogs @willowsshots @dousleepanymore @billiesbabygirll @hehehehannahthings @clairrehwart @malefantasy23 @sky-brooks8 @callsignwidow | link to be added to my taglist !
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longlostlibrary · 1 day ago
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The only good thing in a heatwave.
AN - there’s a heat wave where I live rn so here’s something my boiled brain wouldn’t stop thinking about today :]
Warnings - suggestive?, nothing actually happens, reader is written as GN and has few physical descriptors (mentioned of hair, being flushed though no specific shade is mentioned, etc), light dom!reader undertones?
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You’re laid out on the kitchen floor, the cold tile a blessing against your boiling skin. The lights are off, the only sound coming from an old fan sat next to your open freezer in an attempt to cool the place down. Electricity bills be damned — your landlord paid them anyway and it seemed a fitting act of rebellion given his refusal to outfit your building with any form of AC.
It’s dark; quiet, and, — if you could ignore the feeling of your skin sticking to everything it came into contact with — almost peaceful. It would be the perfect time to take a nap if it wasn’t for the absolute radiator that was your boyfriend.
It was breaking his heart, really. He didn’t understand why you refused to cuddle up with him!! — Well, he did understand in theory, your voice from an hour ago nagging in the back of his mind;
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‘You just don’t get it,’ you’d announced loudly after what? the eighth time he’d tried to cuddle up beside you that morning. You’d almost let him, when he’d stared at you with an expression you could only liken to that of a kicked puppy, but at the end of the day you’d held firm. ‘You’re too hot!!’
Your hair was stuck you your brow from sweat, and the prettiest flush ran across..well, everything. If only you were saying that in a..different context — his brain did the work of supplying the rest of that scenario. At that he’d flushed red. Yes, he knew what you’d actually meant; the fact that, in your words, cuddling up to him was akin to climbing inside a lit furnace for a nap — but it didn’t stop him from filling that sentence away in his brain for another time.
It had been an hour since then, the thermostat reading a solid 35°, and he’d wandered around the house more times than he could count, searching for something to make you cool down enough that you wouldn’t oppose his touch. Unfortunately, it seemed that your current solution of lying flat on the linoleum and breathing in whatever chill the freezer could provide was quickly becoming the only one.
The heat was even starting to get to him, small rivulets of sweat beading down his forehead and gathering in his eyebrows and dark lashes, plastering his shirt to his back in a way that was nothing short of uncomfortable. He pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt, dropping it by the laundry before heading back to you. Maybe now he’d be cool enough that you’d be willing to cuddle with him.
He made his way back to the kitchen quietly, though the lack of physical contact was killing him at least he would be able to be near you. That plan went out the window when he laid eyes on you again.
Sometime in the few minutes he’d been out of the kitchen, you had shed your top and shorts, leaving you just your underwear and gods, that was maybe more than he could handle.
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The clatter of a chair and a low groan is what alerted you to his presence.
‘Hey, love’, you opened your eyes slowly, relishing in the sight of him. His hair was sticking to his head, jutting out in odd angles like he’d just gotten done with the shower; beads of sweat collecting on his lashes and lips, making his collar bones and chest shine, and oh. He was flushed so beautifully, the colour staining his cheeks down lower and lower, emphasizing his v-line and tone until it oh so sinfully disappeared into his waistband. It was obvious that he still wanted to cuddle, that his need for contact was struggling against his respect and care for you.
In all honesty it was rather adorable.
In any other situation, you’d have taken a picture. Him standing so pretty and docile, that look in his eyes like he’d do anything for you just to be able to be by your side. The cold freezer air had helped you to cool down a bit, though you were still sweltering. But how could you ever deny him when he was just so beautiful?
Slowly, you turned so that you were properly facing him and sat up. ‘Tell me what you want, love,’ you asked, almost teasing in your tone. He didn’t reply, rather looking at the spot beside you on the floor like it was the gateway into heaven. You sighed, smiling a little. He really could be adorable, even if he could probably pick you up like a sack of potatoes if need be.
‘You want to cuddle, love?’ you ask, a bit kinder this time. He nods just a tad too vigorously to be normal, excited, and you gesture at the floor beside you. It takes a few seconds for it to register that your offer isn’t in jest, but he quickly lays down beside you — not touching quite yet, making sure you’re as comfortable as can be; he’ll take whatever he can get from you today, it’s a blessing you even let him get this close given the weather.
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You press back against him, slotting yourself against his chest comfortably, before slowly guiding his arms around you. You can feel him practically melt into your touch, and maybe you can deal with being a little bit too warm if it means that you can be together like this; fitted against each other like you were made for one another, just letting the worries of the world slip away.
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If it isn’t already clear idk what I’m doing so this may just be a jumbled mess— gonna blame it on sleep deprivation lol
Line banners by @/cafekitsune, name banners by me
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glubglubgurgle · 9 hours ago
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stuck bunnies
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xaviermc where your vibrating egg gets stuck and only your helpful neighbor xavier could save you
pairings: xavier/unnamed afab [mc/you]
tags: smut, shameless smut, neighbors, stuck vibrators, he helps you hehe, DRY HUMPING, fingering, p and v sex, kissing, praising, jealous xavier, charlie mentioned, sex confessions, drunk in luv hehe
word count: 7k
a/n: first part to stuck vibrator series !!!!! YIPPEEEEE !! i hope u guys enjoy, no beta but i worked hard to pump this out before i leave for my tip, thanks for the excitement shown for this series! im excited to write more eheh
pings!: @rurushow @straykidslvr @mcdepressed290 @otomegamesforlife @liz9898 @cherriesinoctober @dummiebunny @cecxliia @rikissaurus @ophelia-ophelian @youkoden @zaynetism @auroranavi [IT WOULDNT LET ME TAG SOME OF U TT IDK HOW TUMBLR WORKS TT]
CROSS POSTED TO AO3
“You need to get laid, girl…” Tara said to you before taking another sip of her martini. She scanned the bar, surely looking for a proper suitor for you.
You sighed, following her gaze. “I do…but I don’t know about a one-night-stand. I want to at least know them or something.” You looked back at her and she already had her tarot cards in hand, shuffling them. “No way your tiny purse fits that…where the hell did you pull those cards out from?” You gaped at her.
“Hush. You’re looking for love, and I’m trying to help you.” Tara continued to shuffle the cards more before fully facing you. She pulled the card from the top and placed it on the bar, hovering it face down for a moment before flipping it over. She gasped.
“What? What does it say?” You panicked, looking at the random card with a large goblet being held that seemed to have water flowing out of it. Despite having had your cards read at random, multiple times, the meanings have never stuck with you.
“You like Xavier.” Tara smirked at you.
Your ears felt hot and you scowled. “What? N-no! What are you talking about?” You push her shoulder playfully. “The card does not say that.” You huffed.
“Nooo, but your face says it all whenever he talks to another girl at the academy!” She giggled, glancing back at your card. “Hm…but judging from this, I think you’ll have some good luck in the future with your silly crush…hm, it might be a little bit of a bumpy road buuut, it seems kind of positive!” She shuffled the deck again.
“You think he knows?” You asked her, chewing on your lip. It was very much true that you were into your work partner. Not only was he your partner and friend, he was even your upstairs neighbor. Xavier was everywhere, but he still wasn’t close enough for you. Although at times you thought there was the start of something, he would disappear at times and it would feel like you were back at square one. Even if you two were partners at work, he had higher strength levels and clearance than you, which meant he would be put on a lot of solo missions. 
Tara snickered, pulling another card and placing it face up besides the other one. “You’re so obvious…but who knows? I have a hard time reading that guy, sometimes. He has been to more employee dinners after you got home wasted that one time…So at least we know he cares about you!” She looked at the card and then slyly smirked at you. “I think you’ll be getting luckyyy soon.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
You looked at the card, a queen-like woman sitting on a throne. You cocked your head up at her as she ordered two tequila shots. 
“One more shot!” She screamed.
One became two. And then another. And then you were stumbling on your way home. You put Tara on a taxi to her place and texted her roommate that she was on her way. Since you ate a lot while drinking, and since you were a pretty good drinker, you weren’t as drunk. It was still hard to walk a straight line but it was manageable. You stopped by a convenience store on the way for a sports drink and then sat outside in the cool night air to sober up even more. Your body felt warm from the alcohol, despite your dress revealing a lot of skin. 
A hand reached out to the bottle you were struggling to open. “What are you doing out here?” You hear a familiar voice ask. 
You looked up after flinching at the sudden interaction. Xavier. He was wearing a gray hoodie and matching sweatpants. His fluffy hair had tufts sticking out as if he had just rolled out of bed. He easily opened the bottle before handing it back to you. 
As you grabbed the drink from him with a nod of appreciation, you took a sip before answering. “I was just coming back from the bar with Tara.” You took another sip, looking away from him. Your cheeks burned as he stared down at you. The alcohol felt like it was giving you another round of being drunk, your head was spinning and your heart was racing. 
He put his hand on the top of your head, turning you back to face him before letting go. Xavier looked like he was studying you. You saw his eyes roam at your outfit and you swore the tips of his ears turned pink, but you quickly brushed it off as the cold air’s doing. “You were walking home alone?” He crossed his arms, as if to judge you, and then pointed his chin upwards while looking down at you with a slight tilt.
Another sip of your drink, the cool liquid sending a small shiver up your spine as it contrasted with everything else feeling hot. “It was just me and Tara, she was a lot drunker than me so I put her in a cab…I’m fine. Just a bit wobbly.” You answered sheepishly, a small giggle bubbling out of your throat. “Was I supposed to find a guy at the bar to take me home instead?” You cocked your head at him, taking another sip. You had no idea where the sudden confidence came from, maybe the cards from earlier made you want to test the waters. 
His jaw clenched slightly. “Is your phone broken?” 
The question threw you off and you looked down at your lap where your phone was, confused. “N-”
“So, why didn’t you just call me?” He sighed, looking away before looking back down at you.
Another shiver, this time from his annoyed demeanor. It should have been a little upsetting, but you were quite honestly turned on. The way his blue eyes darkened when he was upset. It’s a sight you saw often when you came back from a solo-mission bruised and battered. You grasped at every shred of worry he showed, letting it feed into your hopes and delusions. Still, you couldn’t find an excuse.
He sighed again, his arms crossing and his fingers gripped at his sweatshirt, slipping it off. His shirt came up with his sweater for a second, his bare abdomen flashed you and time seemed to slow down. You couldn’t help but stare. Each crease and crevice of his muscles almost made your mouth water, but you could feel the place between your legs get a lot warmer. You quickly looked away, blushing, hoping that he didn’t see you staring since his sweater covered his face. You screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it by your side. Then his sweater was held out in front of your face. 
“Wear this. You’re shivering.” He motioned for you to take the sweater.
With a slight hesitation, you reached up to grab it from him. You couldn’t tell him that you were actually feeling really hot because of him. You thanked him before slipping it on. It smelled like it just came out of the wash and it felt really warm. You wanted to keep smelling it, but he was right in front of you. Surely he would think you’re some sort of pervert if you just sat there and sniffed it. The fit was larger than you and since he was so tall, it went past your dress even. Which wasn’t very hard considering your dress was short already. You stood up, a bit too quickly, and stumbled. 
His arms wrapped around your shoulders to steady you, “Hey…you’re still drunk.” His mouth was near your ear, his voice deep and you shivered again. You hoped your lacey underwear would be able to hold in how wet you were, because the proximity was getting to you more than usual. 
There was something about the Xavier in front of you that was making you more feral and needy. You were already in a drought as is. It’s been hectic at work with long hours, to the point that when you got home, you couldn’t even take care of your needs yourself. The last time you dated someone was back in college, and you were terrible at hooking up with strangers; in the sense that you chickened out before anything went further ever. 
You were so extremely sexually frustrated, and you wanted to get home to take care of it before you jumped him right on the street to confess. “Th-thank you.” You said, slightly panting from feeling his breath on your neck. You hoped he passed it off as your reaction to almost falling. You straightened yourself up and he dropped his arms, standing up straighter as well. You grabbed your drink from the bench and shoved your phone into the pocket of his sweater.
The two of you started to walk towards the direction of the apartment building you both resided in. 
“What was the occasion?” Xavier asked after a few moments of silence. 
Since he was normally the soft-spoken type, you have always been worried about yapping his ear off. You normally waited for him to make the first conversation move, yet besides that, the silence that fell between the two of you was comfortable. You shrugged, shoving your hands into the hoodie pocket. “Nothing really, just needed a drink after those spatial anomalies made it nearly impossible to rest for two weeks.” You let out a sigh while looking up at the night sky. The city was quieter, no random car alarms being triggered, no sudden screams from surprised civilians. “I’m glad I’m not too drunk though. It’s really nice walking with you on a peaceful night like this. You must be tired too, right? I barely saw you even though we're technically partners.” You tilted your head up at him, a small smile on your lips. 
He was already looking at you and your eyes met. A small blush formed on your face. The corner of his lip twitched and a chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, it’s been a few days since we last saw each other…are you sad?” A teasing smile was on his lips as he bent over slightly to meet eyes with you, still walking. “Is that why you drank?” The question was a joke, but it was the truth.
You loved being a hunter, it was all you ever dreamt about since you were young. Although there were times where you would get tired, yet whenever he was around, it would feel like you could work for longer. As cheesy as it was, he felt like sunshine. You just let out a laugh and playfully pushed his arm away, “Don’t be silly.” His arm felt firm under your touch. You’ve had to patch him up before so you weren’t too surprised, but it still gave you butterflies. You knew that under his soft fluffy exterior was a very strong figure. The heat felt strong again, on your cheeks and under your clothes. 
“Hm, you’re blushing. Are you still drunk?” He asked, stopping the both of you in your tracks. His hand came up to your face, the back of it touching your forehead. “Or…are you getting sick?” His eyebrows knitted together with a concerned look. 
Your eyes widened at the sudden touch as you stopped walking. You looked away from his touch and saw that you were already at the front of the apartment. “N-no! But we’re home!” You forced out a laugh, “I’ll take some medicine before I sleep, just in case.”  You ducked under his arm and in through the gate of the building, quickly walking to and through the front entrance. 
The elevator ride felt quiet, but it also felt way too long. He stood too close to you and you wanted him. All you could smell was him: detergent, spring, citrus…it was driving you insane. You squeezed your thighs together and looked down, letting out a sigh through pursed lips.
“Are you okay?” He put his hand on your lower back, making you jump slightly, but you hoped it wasn’t obvious. 
“Yeah,” you forced a laugh. “I think the alcohol is making me really tired or something.” You lied. Then the elevator opened on your floor. Thinking you were going to say goodbye, you finally looked up at him, but he stepped out. “Huh, this isn’t your floor.”
“Yeah, but it’s yours. It’s better if you pass out inside your home than the hallway. You never know if your neighbor is a creep.” He glared at the door closest to yours. 
You walked out, still confused. “Hm, I think the only people that live on this floor are that mom and her kid…and the new one! What was his name…?” You racked your brain trying to remember, suddenly dropping the question of Xavier walking you to your door. “Carl?”
“Charlie.” Xavier responded sternly. “And anyways, just because he’s a baker, doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. I just would sleep better if I saw you enter your home, especially in this state.”
You hummed an acknowledgment, trying to not look too swayed. He was being so considerate while he was looking so domestic and hot, you wanted to pull him into your apartment and kiss him right there. Instead you managed to open your door and step inside, turning to face him again. “Thank you…for walking me home. I’ll treat you to hot pot next time! Or a drink!” You looked down and saw his sweater still on. You were going to reach under and take it off until he placed his hand atop yours.
“Don’t worry about it, just return it whenever. Sleep well. Goodnight.” He smiled at you warmly, making your heart do jumping jacks. He walked away and then stopped to face you again, “I’ll be expecting that free meal soon, though.” He smirked at you before heading to the stairs. 
“Goodnight!” You yelled back, hoping none of your neighbors heard. You shut the door and leaned against it, your heart racing a thousand miles. You made a mental note of not listening to anymore of Tara’s readings, it was making you more delusional and unstable around him. But you also thought that maybe you were just extremely horny, so you took a shower to get ready for bed. 
You didn’t plan on sleeping any time soon that night, you wanted to finally take care of yourself. It was your first day off and you needed to cum as soon as possible. After your steaming hot shower, you slipped on a large shirt that you normally slept in and ditched the underwear. And then you saw his sweater on your bed. Since no one was around to judge you, you brought the fabric up your nose. 
Xavier.
Images of him in the sweater, removing the sweater, holding you, and saying sweet words flashed through your mind and it was making your heart race and you started feeling your clit pulse as well. You slipped on the sweater again, feeling too warm but you wanted it. You walked over to the balcony doors and opened them to feel the night breeze. You normally touched yourself with the doors open, in hopes that he could hear you. It’s been many times since you’ve done it and since there had been no signs of any knowledge of your nighttime activities, you just do it out of habit and the breeze felt good especially after sweating all night. 
You walked towards your dresser drawer and cursed. The vibrator wand you normally used had actually died two weeks prior, and you’ve been meaning to buy another one. It completely slipped your mind once work picked up and now you were left with a dead wand. You groaned, sifting through the drawer until you found a small drawstring bag.
It was the gag gift that your other coworker Simone had given you for secret santa a year before. A small purple vibrating egg. It had a little rubber loop as a handle and a small remote. Despite sitting in your drawer for a few months, you clicked the on-button and the egg came to life. Nearly bouncing from the vibrations in your palm. You never used this type of toy before from fear of losing it inside of you, but you were so desperate to cum that you couldn’t be bothered to worry anymore. 
You turned the lights down and got into bed, setting the egg beside you. You dragged your hand in between your legs and put your fingers in your folds. You were already wet, despite just taking a shower, you were warm and pulsing. Your fingers pressed against your clit and a hissed breath left you through gritted teeth. “Fuck…” You grabbed the egg with your free hand while your other fingers rubbed circles on your own clit. You spread your legs further, lifting your hips up a little and planted your feet on the bed. You slowly inserted the egg into your entrance, the stretch wasn’t too much despite being inactive for years, but it was rather small anyways. You tried to push it further in, inserting your fingers with a moan. And then you clenched around it, squeezing it further in you. You tugged at the loop, making sure you can still take it out before grabbing the remote. 
You took a deep breath before hitting the on button. A low hum began, which felt more like a massage than anything. You were worried that it was too weak to help with your needs, but then you pressed it again and it slowly got stronger. There were ten lights on the remote, and you knew you needed the strongest mode to cure you. Your hips started twitching as you kept raising the intensity, and once you reached the maximum, your lower body got warmer. You set the remote down and started rubbing your clit in circles. Soft moans were spilling out of you, and your leg even began to shake. You adjusted his sweater on you so the neckline was up to your nose, inhaling his scent. You felt like a pervert, but there was no one to see so you couldn’t care less. The coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, your legs started shaking, and your breathing got heavier. To reach your orgasm faster, you thought of Xavier. You wished he was on top of you, his hands replacing yours on your heat, saying your name. “Fuck…ngh…Xavier, please!” You moaned out. It was the first time you actually moaned his name, but you were too busy to worry about him hearing you through the open balcony as you were chasing your high. 
Your hips gyrated against your own hand, the vibrations ripping through you and then you finally came. It felt like the egg was going to catapult out of you with the combination of how wet you were and how tight your walls were contracting against it. You looped your thumb against the hoop and tried to yank it out as you continued to orgaasm to relieve the liquids out of you. 
And then you felt a snap. You cursed and sat up, your orgasm still making its way through you and your new position made the vibrator move inside. The flimsy rubber hoop snapped off. 
You were so sensitive from having just come, and you reached for the remote to turn it off. The lights that were on were suddenly off, and you had a feeling there were even more problems. You pressed the off button and nothing. It was still vibrating inside of you and the panic made it seem like it was going even harder. You laid back down and took your fingers down into your entrance, hoping you could pull it out yourself. “Fuck! Ah!” You cursed as your fingers pressed against the egg, right into your most sensitive spot. The silicone body was slippery with all your juices coated around it, and you were losing hope. Another orgasm hit you like a truck as it was pressed against your g-spot, pushing you into overstimulation mode. You knew you could come ten times in a row in this state, and you were worried that you couldn’t control it. A string of curses lift your lips with moans in between, from pleasure and agony. 
Suddenly you heard a slam from upstairs, like a heavy piece of furniture fell on the ground. 
You ignored it as you had bigger things to deal with. You ripped your fingers out of yourself and rolled onto your stomach, pushing your ass up into the air as you buried your face into the pillow. Your body was shaking from the multiple orgasms, but the position felt like it was a little bit less pushed against your squishy spot. You wondered if there was anyone you could call that wouldn’t send you into years of embarrassment. You wished you kept the box for the toy to see how long the battery lasted, but you knew it would be at least an hour and you didn’t think you would survive that. Your last hope was Xavier, but…
Then, the doorbell rang. Once. Twice. And then multiple times. It was as if the person at the door was running from something. You pushed yourself up, getting to your feet, worried there was an emergency. Despite your watch not reading any fluctuations, it could have been something else. 
You wobbled your way to your front door, doing your best to ignore the egg vibrating inside of you. You pulled the sweater and shirt down to cover your naked bottom fully. Each step made you clench yourself, making it rub up and down your sensitive spot. You gripped at the walls and counters as you finally made it to the door. As you squeezed your thighs together, you fumbled with the locks and then turned the knob. 
The slight opening of the door was suddenly pushed further open from the outside.
Xavier.
He breathlessly said your name with concern laced through each letter. He was panting as if he had just run a mile, and his fingers were gripped on the door, looking down at you. His blue orbs were darker than usual as they searched your face for discomfort. Xavier raked his fingers through his hair, his black shirt lifting up as he raised his arm, revealing skin as his pants were low on his waist. You couldn’t help but stare and nearly drool. You felt your core get tight from arousal again, making it harder to ignore the buzzing inside of you. You wondered if he could hear it.
“Did something happen? I heard you..yelp. It sounded like you were in pain.” Xavier’s eyes looked around the living room, as if he was looking for signs of another person. 
You looked down, scrunching your face together as you tried to bite back the moans threatening to come out of you. You wanted to curl into a ball and die from the shame of the state he found you in, and the face that he definitely heard you. Even though that was your goal before, the fact that it came true made you burn inside. 
Desperation ate at you. “Fuck…” You cursed through gritted teeth. You pulled him in by his shirt and pressed him against the door to close it. You caged him in by planting your hands against the door by each side of his waist and looked at him. Your eyebrows were knitted together and your lower lip trembled. “P-please help me…I- ngh.” You stopped your sentence. The eye contact he held with you and the proximity of his body was enough to push you over the edge. You sank down to the floor by his feet, getting on your knees, as you tried to hold in your reaction as much as possible.
“What’s wrong?” Xavier asked, confused. He squatted down to meet you, his hand reaching under your chin to tilt up to look at him. “Use your words so I can help you.” The control he had was in heavy contrast to the control you had completely lost. Your thighs trembled and you felt your juices leak down your thighs. His words and the stern delivery made you bite your lip.
“Vibrator…ngh.” You panted, your hand reaching up to squeeze his arm. It was an attempt to focus on something else. “It’s stuck inside me…please help. I can’t-” You gasped as you clenched again, moving the egg inside of you. “I can’t get it out…” Your face burned with embarrassment. 
In no time, he was up on his feet and he scooped you up in his arms. His arm hooked under your knees, and he carried you bridal style over to your bedroom. “Are you okay…with me? I have to reach inside of you.” 
You could feel his eyes burning into you and you hid your face in his shoulder, gripping tightly on the fabric of his shirt. The position he carried you in pushed the egg inside of you and you were sure he could feel the vibrations from your legs. “Please…if it’s okay with you?”
“Of course.” He said instantly, placing you on the bed. “Let me wash my hands really quickly.” 
You felt him leave and you rolled yourself back onto your belly, assuming that it would be easier if you weren’t facing him. You heard the water run in your bathroom and then stop before the footsteps were close to you again. You lifted your ass into the air again, waiting impatiently for him to get it out of you. 
“I’m going to touch you now, okay? I have to move this up so I can see.” He said, playing with the hem of your clothing.
“P-please, just get it out quick.” You begged, slightly muffled by the pillow. 
The skin on your bottoms was suddenly kissed by the cool breeze from the balcony again, cooling the liquid gushing in between your legs. You heard his breath hitch and the warmth of his hand near your entrance as the other held onto one of your cheeks. “I’m going in…I need you to relax a little, if you can. Breathe properly.” His voice, which was usually steady, had a slight break to it. 
Uncertainty, you thought. Ignoring it, you moved your head to the side so you could take deep breaths, and then his fingers were inside of you. You could feel him push against the egg, and you twitched at his touch. You couldn’t help but moan. His long slender fingers were reaching areas you never could yourself, and two fingers instantly were stretching you even more as he tried to grab on.
“Fuck…you’re really tight.” Xavier said tensely. You could have sworn the grip on your ass got even tighter. “And you’re so wet…I’m having a hard time getting a grip on this thing. Can you take another finger?” 
His words felt so dirty and it turned you on even more, you ended up gushing around his fingers, fluttering your walls around the egg and now him. “Ngh..fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m sorry.” Tears pricked your eyes as you came on the spot, in front of him with him inside of you. “Please, do whatever. I can’t do this anymore, Xavi, please.” 
A breathy chuckle left him, “You’re driving me crazy, you know?” He said. Another finger inserted you. “Too…tight.” His hand rubbed circles on your lower back. “Relax…breathe.” 
As you did your best to follow orders, you could feel him go into you deeper, spreading his fingers wider into your pussy. “Haah…” You sighed, trying to maintain your composure or what little left you had of it.
“Good girl…I almost…” He then seemed to have a good grip of the egg and then slowly pulled it out. “Got it.” His fingers, along with the egg left you with a squelch and you felt liquid drip out of you.
The room was filled with sounds of your heavy breathing and the louder buzz of the egg which was then silenced. You assumed he found the button on it. You fell onto your side, catching your breath. The multiple orgasms were taking a toll on you, and your mind was clearing up. The chain of events were replaying in your head and you started crying from embarrassment. You felt yourself being lifted by your shoulders and your head being placed onto his chest. 
“Hey…why are you crying?” Xavier asked, rubbing your arms, wrapping himself around you. 
You shoved your face into his chest. “I’m so embarrassed…you were just inside of me because I had that thing inside of me.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad it was me that you asked for help…if it was someone else at the door would you-” He started which you quickly looked up to deny.
You shook your head, meeting his eyes with your own teary ones. “I would rather die. I think I feel safe around you. You always help me when I need it, I knew you could help me. I don’t think I’d want anyone else to see this, either.” You explained, determined to let him know that you weren’t open to just anyone.
Xavier looked at you with wide eyes before his shocked face melted into a warm smile. “So, don’t be embarrassed. I know you were kind of stressed out just now, but I think you look really good. You sounded really good too.” His face lowered down to yours. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night, even before this. Since earlier.” His dry hand came up to your cheek, his thumb pulling your lower lip down softly. “Can I?”
You didn’t answer. Instead you pushed yourself up to meet his lips with a groan. While your lips were attached to his, you changed your position so you were on your knees on the bed, your body fully facing him. The kiss was so soft and warm, it was more than you imagined it would be. You gasped as he nibbled your bottom lip and he took his chance to explore you further. The feeling of his tongue mingling with yours made you light headed. Your hands moved to his thighs and then one roamed up from under his shirt.
He pulled you into his lap, making you straddle him. 
“W-wait, I don’t have anything on. I’m going to stain y-” You tried arguing.
“Don’t care.” He stated before kissing you again, his hands held your hips and pushed you to sit on him fully. Your heat crashed into the bulge in his pants that you just noticed, making you moan loud into his mouth. Each of your sounds being swallowed by him and his groans. “Fuck…” He said against your lips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
Your hands explored underneath his shirt, your hips mindlessly grinding against him despite how sore you felt from the vibrator earlier. Your fingers traced each bump of his muscles and grazed against his nipples. A whimper left his throat, making you buck into him from surprise. “Take it off…” You tugged at his shirt. “W-wanna see you.” You begged as you pulled away. 
He smirked at you, his lips looking red. You couldn’t tell if it was leftover lipstick from you or just from the intensity of kissing. Xavier instantly slipped off his shirt.
You were about to take your tops off, but his hands grabbed yours. “I like you in my sweater.”
Xavier kissed your jaw and then your neck. Peppering more kisses until he reached your ear. “Were you thinking about me?” He asked, just above a whisper. “I heard you…” He held your hips and rolled himself up into you, groaning. “...saying my name. It drove me crazy. You never did that before.”
You gasped. “You heard me- mmmph. You heard me before?” You asked, shocked and embarrassed.
“Isn’t that why you opened your doors? Who else did you want to hear you like that?” His grip tightened on you, almost bruising, bringing you down to grind more on his clothed length. “It’s just me, isn’t it? You feel so good, even just like this. You already came, but you’re still soaking me.” He groaned into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and making you moan in return. 
You squeezed your eyes shut, your knuckles turning white as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. All his words made you flutter your walls around nothing. You were just begging to be empty earlier and now you couldn’t help but want to be stretched out by him again. His heavy breathing, soft moans, and dirty words were pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. If he blew air into your ear, you swore you wouldn’t have to keep grinding down on him just to come, he could unravel you without even touching you. “J-just you, Xavi…I like you so much…wanted you to hear me and like me too.” You took a sharp inhale as you felt his clothed tip rub against your clit just right. 
“Fuck- ahng. Why didn’t you say so earlier, baby? I could’ve helped you out all those other times.” Xavier then repositioned you to lie on your back before climbing on top of you, reconnecting the two of you at the hip. The weight of his cock felt heavier as he was on top of you. Even through the pants you could tell it was big. The light gray fabric turned dark, the wet spot large as well from you constantly dripping onto him. “What if that- shit…” He cursed as he slowly  trailed his clothed tip in between your wet, naked folds. He lifted the sweater you were wearing up, resting it above your belly button so he could admire you more. His eyes looked blown up and glassy from the arousal, you swore his pupils covered every centimeter of blue. “If that baker heard how you sounded….fuck. He doesn't even know that you can’t even remember his name,” he let out a dark, mocking chuckle. His hands roamed along your thighs, up your stomach, and played at the hem of the pushed up sweater. “Doesn’t even know how pretty you look, writhing underneath me, right now. How good you feel…and I’m not even fucking you….” 
You arched your back up from the mattress, attempting to have his hand ride up further to touch you more. You shook your head, “W-wanted only you to hear me…please, touch me.” You were gonna babble, you knew it. You grabbed his wrist that was on your stomach and pushed his hand under the sweater, to touch your breasts. Your nipples felt hard and peaked, you needed him to touch them. As if he read your mind, his fingertips grazed them, making you stutter a moan out. Your other hand played with the waistband of his sweatpants. “Can you fuck me? Please, Xavi? I want you inside me. Please?” You begged, your eyes looking up at him, half-lidded and blurry visioned. 
“God, you’re driving me crazy.” He groaned,  rubbing his cock against your core once more before pulling away slightly, which earned a whine to leave your lips at loss of contact. Xavier panted as he pulled his pants down slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t know if I can hold back…or even last long.” He looked around. “Do you even have a condom?”
You didn’t know whether to shake your head or nod profusely as you had multiple answers. “D-don’t care, birth control. Want you to cum inside.” Your brain was mush, desperate to cum again with him inside. “Been dreaming of this, Xavi. Don’t- ahhh!” He rolled your nipped in between his index and his thumb, interrupting you as you arched your back again, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t you dare hold back on me.” You managed to grit out. 
“Look at me.” He commanded and your eyes shot open again. He got up from the bed and pulled his pants down before scooting back in between your legs. His cock was an immense size. Large, leaking, thick. You’ve never seen one this big before, and although you wanted to be more nervous, you were too sex fogged to care. He wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself without much care as he looked at you intently, his jaw tensed and his eyes were full of sex. You never knew what bedroom eyes were until you saw him. His other hand slid up your thigh again, the trail electrifying. He then pushed the sweater up to rest above your tits, tucking it under your chin. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I could cum just looking at you…” Xavier said, lust dripping from his words as he continued to pump himself. 
You could watch him jerk off and cum right then and there too. Knowing that you were the reason was enough to make you whine. “Please, Xavi…”
He dragged his now bare tip in between your equally bare folds. You twitched at the touch and lifted your hips to quicken his proximity to your entrance, but his hand held you down. “Ah, ah…be patient for me, my star.” He hissed, yet his words didn’t match his actions as he already lined himself up to your leaking hole. “You’re already so wet, I think I could just slip right in…ahh.” He teased the tip in, pushing it in and out. The stretch was already bigger than you imagined, but you were so turned on, there was no room to be in pain. 
You moaned and whined, begging for more. A mantra of pleases and curses left your lips as he finally slid more of himself in with a groan.
“Fuck…” He groaned as he was halfway in, heaving. “You’re still so tight…won’t ever get enough of this.” He slid further in. “This is just for me, right? You’re mine now, aren’t you?” His fingers had a bruising grip on your thighs, keeping your legs on his hips, opening you up to him. “Tell me…” He commanded as he slid further.
“A-all yours. Just for you…take- holy fuck…take all of me. Whenever…whereever…” You babbled, your head dropping back onto the pillow, your gaze moving the ceiling as you felt him even deeper than before. “F-fuck me.”
Xavier leaned over as he bottomed out with a gasp, his hand moved to the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and where the two of you were connected. “Keep looking at me, baby. Need you to see the mess we’re making.” The skin around where the two of you met was glistening. Either with sweat, cum, slick…you couldn’t give a fuck. He was finally inside of you. Even if you wanted to look away, your eyes were glued. Either at his dick or his eyes, it was the only thing you could focus on. And then he started moving. “Shit, you take me so well. I’m the only one who can make you this wet…can’t you hear?” Loud squelching sounds came from him moving in and out of you, you could even see tiny splatters of liquid. “You’re so fucking wet, I think I’m gonna drown, but you’re still so tight…are you nervous? Or are you just a perfect fit for me? Relax a little baby…” He was turning such mundane words into the dirtiest sentences and it was driving you over the edge.
You couldn’t respond, all that was coming out of you when you wanted to was choked moans and whines. And the only word you could force out was his name. “X-Xavi…hngh…Xavie-r.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours and then he leaned down into a bruising kiss, teeth clashing and drool spilling at the side of your mouth. 
“Keep saying my name, I’m so fucking close.” He said against your lips before moving back again to watch him go in and out of you, you swore he drooled too. Then he licked his thumb and placed it on your clit, rubbing circles in a calculated manner. “Let me feel you cum around my cock like you did my fingers. So fucking pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze around me like that here too.” The pressure building was driving you crazy, nearly having you scream his name. You wondered if the entirety of Linkon could hear you. As if he heard your thoughts again, “Tell the whole city who you belong to, starlight.” He groaned, his thrusts turning sloppier by the second. 
“Xavier! G-gonna c-” You couldn’t even finish before you felt yourself spill all over his cock, spasming around him. You tried to hold eye contact, but couldn’t take the multiple sensations and you threw your head back, your hips stuttering as he continued to pound into you. You swore your back could have snapped in half with how far and fast you arched it up as you came.
“Right-fucking-there…holy shit.” He groaned and said in between thrusting into you. “Fucking…take it…” He groaned before spilling into you. It was hard to tell which warmth was his which was yours, but the of him cumming inside of you was enough to bring you to another quick and short second wave. “God…you’re going to drain me…” He panted, falling on top of you, still softly thrusting himself through his orgasm and yours. His lips latched onto your neck, leaving marks in between his breathy whines. 
He rolled the two of you over, still connected so you could rest on him instead of the other way around. Your head was on his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat return to a more normal state as each minute passed by. The two of you were still heaving and still sticky. You could feel yourself leak around his softening cock. He finally let you remove his sweater as it was bunched on around your chest awkwardly, so you were fully connected in your purest, rawest form. 
You giggled, thinking about the tarot cards Tara pulled. 
“What’s so funny, starlight?” He rubbed your back softly, his chin on top of your head as he spoke.
“Just thinking that the stars are forever in our favor…” You mumbled, fully content with the night.
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breakmeoff · 3 days ago
Text
Good Pup
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pairing: sub!seungmin x fem reader
warnings: swearing, degradation, praise, usage of "mama" and "pup" SMUT: oral (f receiving), usage of toys (m receiving), light bondage (m receiving). MDNI, 18+ only*
word count: 2.3k
synopsis: you bring home a new toy for your pup to play with, but first need to remind him not to give you so much sass beforehand.
note: all of the other depraved writers out there have made me go feral for subby seungmin, and that pegging req i got during my event has been stuck in my head. i fear that there may be more where this comes from. as always, thanks for reading. :)
Masterlist
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“You really don’t listen very well, do you?” You asked dryly, eyeing your boyfriend who was sprawled out on the couch nonchalantly as all hell.
“Whatever do you mean?” Seungmin replies, dry as hell, barely lifting his eyes over the top of his phone to look at you.
Kicking your shoes off and dropping your purse on the table by the door, you padded barefoot inside, swinging a shopping bag loosely from one crooked finger. “Pretty sure I gave you some pretty basic instructions for when I got home.”
Sitting up straighter, he pulled back the lapel of his button down shirt, revealing the black leather collar hanging around his throat. “You mean this one?”
Stepping closer with a small smirk on your lips, you nodded once, pausing before him to reach down and flick the silver name-tag that hung in the hollow of his throat. “Hmm, guess my Good Pup halfway listened after all.”
Looking up to you from his seated position, a blank expression still on his face, he gestured to the bag before dropping his hands on his thighs. “What’s in the bag?”
“Seeing as you didn’t fully comply to my request earlier, I’m not sure you deserve it.” You shrugged lightly, opening the top of the bag to peek inside briefly even though you obviously knew what it was.
“And ohhh, you wanna deserve it…” you added with a sly grin.
Sighing dramatically, Seungmin pushed himself to his feet, towering over you as you stood before him. “You’re annoying.”
Just as he turned to walk towards your shared bedroom, you reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to sneer into his ear. “And for all of that damn sass, now you get to crawl to the bedroom.”
Seungmin hissed with the pain of your tug, groaning a little as the lilt in your voice turned to that of venom. Hesitant, through gritted teeth, he slowly lowered himself to his hands and knees. “Yes Mama.”
Letting go of his hair, you waited a few seconds before you followed him into the other room. With a slight chuckle, you mused. "Y'know, you'd look really cute with a tail. Maybe I should get you one for Christmas." He didn't reply.
Once inside your bedroom, Seungmin paused at the foot of the bed before he instinctively reached underneath and pulled out the padded dog bed. You had no pets. This was reserved for one reason and one reason only.
Just before he went to crawl into position on top of the cushioned bed, you stopped him. "Strip first." Dropping the bag on top of the king sized bed, you turned to your dresser and pulled the matched leather leash off of the top and turned back to your boyfriend.
Now, having folded his clothes politely and placed them on the floor to the side, he crawled back into position, kneeling on the dog bed and looked up to you. As you reapproached him, you reached for the loop on his collar and clipped the leash into place.
"There. Now you're ready."
Seungmin's eyes were dark, and though he looked and acted as if he was miserable with this whole charade, the reaction of his body was telling a different story. His now exposed flesh and position gave the perfect view of his cock, growing harder by the second and turning a darker shade of pink.
Moving between Seungmin and the bed, you took a seat at the edge of it and parted your legs, causing your short dress to hike up your toned thighs and expose your delicate pink panties below. A darkened, slightly damp patch could be seen perfectly from his angle.
"Because you've been such a good boy for me now... I think I'll give you your present. Would you like that?" You teased, wrapping his leash around one hand as you grabbed the shopping bag again.
"Yes please, Mama." His voice was still firm, but just looking down at his fully erect cock which was now resting against his lower abdomen, you could tell he was trying to play it cool.
Reaching into the bag, you pulled out a vibrating cock and ball ring. Holding the new silicone toy in front of him, you watched his eyes roam over the new toy while he swallowed roughly. "Best part... is I can control it from an app on my phone. So if you behave like a good boy, I promise to treat you like one."
Sensing his hesitation, you inched it closer to him. "Go on, put it on. I can already tell you're intrigued..." you teased, your foot moving between his legs to gently rest under his sack, getting a slight reaction from him.
A minute or so later, Seungmin had aptly affixed the new toy, and his eyes were focused now on his dick, getting redder by the second. His lips were parted, and he took a shaky inhale, already enjoying the squeezing sensation already presented just by being on.
Now with your phone in one hand, you free index finger went to the on button on your phone, and a soft buzzing could be heard as the toy kicked on, and Seungmin sucked in a breath. "Ohh..." he mumbled, somewhere with a mix of shock and pleasant surprise.
With a soft chuckle, you tugged on his leash lightly, forcing his attention back to you. "Can't let you have all the fun now..." Spreading your legs again, you pulled his leash down enough to guide his head between your thighs, leaving no guess as to what you wanted him to do next.
His eyes lifted to yours as he lowered his face into the apex of your thighs, and brushed the tip of his nose against the darkened, moist patch of fabric covering your pussy. Inhaling your scent briefly, Seungmin moaned lightly, extending his tongue to drag a wide stripe up your clothed cunt. "Good boy..." you murmured, praising him momentarily.
Just as he was about to lap at you again, you tugged his collar back with a short tsking sound. "Panties off. With your teeth."
"Yes Mama..." he said softly, manuevering his mouth to your right hip, grasping the fabric of your panties between his teeth and tugged it down, before doing the same to the fabric on your left hip. Once he shimmied it down further, you lifted your hips in an effort to assist.
Moving back to your center, Seungmin's teeth clasped the front of your panties and began tugging them down as you spiked the vibration of his toy up just enough to break his concentration. Opening his mouth to moan, your panties snapped back in place and he pressed his forehead to your thigh, raising his hips at the intense feeling of the toy at that magnitude.
"I didn't tell you to stop, Pup. Keep going." Shakily, he lifted his head, panting his breath as he looked up at you with his hooded eyes and clasped your panties back between his teeth, roughly pulling them down your thighs and letting them fall to your ankles. Using his hands, he pulled the material completely off of you and tossed them to the side, moving his hands to slide back up your inner thighs.
With your fingertip still controlling the intensity and speed of the vibrations, you brought it back down to a mild buzzing, allowing Seungmin to take a deep breath and try to regain some composure. "What do you think of the new toy so far, Pup?"
"It feels good... kind of scared to see what all it can do." He admitted, his large hands pushing your thighs apart.
With a short tug of his leash, you corrected him. "Pups don't have hands... you know better than that."
"Sorry Mama..." he mumbled, moving his hands to rest on his bare thighs before he leaned back between your legs and took one more large lap of his tongue against your soaked pussy. Groaning at your taste, he nuzzled into you a bit further as his tongue teased your folds.
"Good Boy..." you sighed, one hand resting behind you on the bed for stability, and your other moved to another button on the app, making the vibrating toy start to pulse rhythmically around his cock and balls.
The new pulsating vibrations caused him to moan into your cunt, his lips moving to your clit as he sucked it into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves almost now in time to the persistent pattern of the throbbing he was feeling.
Starting to truly feel the effects of his new toy, and wanting nothing more than to please you, Seungmin began lapping at your wet pussy, nuzzling into your warmth like a man starved.  Dipping his thick tongue inside your entrance, you moaned lewdly, rocking your hips in time with his movements.  “Fuck I love your tongue, always so good for me…” 
Dragging your fingertip back over the screen of the app, you intensified the vibrations speed, and the pulsations changed to a new rhythm, throwing him for a loop as he groaned into your wet cunt.  Pulling his tongue out only to curse under his breath, he doubled down his efforts and began licking and suckling at every part of your soft skin, becoming pussy drunk and afraid of becoming distracted by his own pleasure.
“Mama… shit you taste so good, pussy so sweet for me…”  He babbled, the firm tip of his tongue went back to expertly licking your clit, flicking at it perfectly before his wet lips surrounded it and he began sucking enough to cause your back to arch and your hand to fly to the back of his head.  
“Jesus, fuck, Minnie… yes, right there…” you cried, wrapping one of your legs over his shoulder to keep him in place as you began grinding your pussy against his mouth, chasing whatever it was you needed out of him.  Between your hand tugging his leash into the position you wanted him, your hand on the back of his head, and his messy mouth, you were quickly approaching your release.
Dropping his jaw, he extended his large flat tongue and just let you ride his face, rubbing your clit and pussy against his drenched mouth and nose, his warm breath colliding into your heat as your free hand blindly increased the vibration on his toy before you bumped your phone out of your way and brought both hands to the back of his head.
“Fuck yes, right there, cumming, gonna cum all over that good tongue… shit, yess…” and your voice caught, both of your hands tangled in his hair as your body tensed and the wave of pleasure ran down your spine and through your entire body.  
Seungmin, like the obedient, obsessed, good little pup he was, groaned into your cunt and kept licking you through your orgasm, letting you take every last bit you needed from him before your body went slack, relaxing and falling slightly limp.
Once he felt your leg pull off of his shoulder and your hands release his head, Seungmin began babbling, now fully feeling the full effects of the toy and able to focus on his own sensations. 
“You’ve been such a good boy for me, take it all my pup… cum for me.”  You cooed, watching his eyes fall shut.
“Fuck fuck fuck, Mama… I lo- love you.  Thank you.  Thank you…” he nearly sobbed, pressing his forehead against your shaking thigh as he was finally allowed his release.  Thick spurts of his cum splattered against his stomach and chest as his climax crested, and reaching down to the tip of his oversensitive cock, you wrapped your fingers around the head and continued pumping him through his intense release, tears breaching his lashlines as he sobbed a moan, babbling thank yous and how much he loved you.
Seungmin choked out a sob as his body finally relaxed, his tense abs now softening as he tried to suck in air and calm his frayed nerves.  It took a moment before you realized the vibrations were still on at full capacity, and quickly you swiped the power off on the app and he exhaled a deep sigh of relief, nearly nuzzling into your thigh.
Brushing your fingers through his sweat damp hair, you began praising him, and pressed a series of soothing kisses to his forehead.  “You were so so good for me, Baby.  So proud of you… you must be exhausted…” 
Barely able to do much but nod his head, you reached down to his throat and unclipped his collar and leash, dropping them to the floor as you quickly got up to place them on your dresser before stepping into the bathroom.  Returning a moment later, you coaxed him up onto the king size bed seeing that he had removed the toy, and carefully began cleaning him with the warm, wet towel.  “So perfect, always such a good boy for me.”
With his eyes still shut, he laid there, allowed his breath to catch up to him before you dropped the towel onto the floor and cuddled right up to him after you pulled one of the blankets over your bodies.  
Dropping your arm loosely over his stomach, you began peppering his bare shoulder with soft, tender kisses as he lifted an arm around your shoulder.  “Was it too much?”  You whispered, tilting your head to look up at his face.
With a short chuckle, a wide grin bloomed over his face and he turned to look down at you.  “No Baby… that was… that was great.  Thank you for my gift.”  He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around you, pressing a tender, lingering kiss against your soft lips.
“Thank you for trusting me.”  You murmured against his mouth, kissing him again softly before he moved to press a longer, gentle kiss to the middle of your forehead.
“Thank you for challenging me and loving me always.”
“Always,” you confirmed, tucking your head under his chin and sinking into his warmth.
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luvs4matt · 3 hours ago
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𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 . . . fucking 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 outside of filming for the first time ‎ ₊ ˚ ₊ ‎♡
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pornstar!chris originally by @sturnioz !! 🤍
proofread by @delilahsturniolo & @jaxstvrns :))) thank you @strnilolover for removing the text on the photo
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“oh my fuck… didn’t know you got this needy for me sweetheart?” you just moaned, too entranced by the feeling of his thick cock brushing against your walls with each thrust.
he was mesmerized himself if he was being completely honest. he loved seeing you all needy like this, so desperate for his cock.
your hole leaked with your juices, leaving a thick coating on chris’ cock, your wetness making your folds glisten. don’t get him started on you clenching just from the littlest bit of praise..
“such a good girl for me, aren’t you sweetie?” your mouth hung open, moans left your throat, but any words you tried to speak just turned to moans as well.
chris chuckled, he enjoyed seeing you like this, but he only saw it when filming considering you had never done anything outside of movies together. sometimes he thought you were being a bit dramatic because you wanted numbers up, but no,
his cock really just had this kind of affect on you? “you really just— fuck, love my cock.. don’t you princess?” you whine, nodding your head.
you threw your head back, moans uncontrollable.. you arched your back as you rolled your hips, desperately trying to chase your orgasm that was right there, you were so close.
“want you to cum f’me… okay? want you t’gush all over my fucking cock.” that was all you needed, you didn’t want this moment to end, but you needed to cum so bad.
you screamed, your orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t stop. his hips still moved, fucking his cock into your sensitive hole. “f- fuck” you managed to choked out.
he stuck two of his fingers down your throat, getting closer and closer to your ear, allowing his chain to hang and dangle in front of your face.
“just take it princess… jus’ let me use your pretty little hole now, kay?”
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