#it's a nurse... wanna be its patient...

[bloody-dollies]

I don't like being sick I want cuddles :((((

[my-mom-named-me-duck]

so I'm going blind everyone should know that about me by now and because of that I know braille and back when I wasn't home schooled (like middle school and freshmen year) I would write vulgar notes to my bullies fully in braille but written with a pen so they'd have to manually translate it and I never got in trouble because even if the kids translated it the principal wasn't gonna fact check it because I made em long

i also wrote a bunch of swear words on a poster when I was in a mental hospital (we were making it because we were the first batch of kids in that building) and they never checked it and I'm pretty sure its still up and I'm very happy about that

i also taught plenty of other kids at that hospital how to write swear words in braille

The moral of the story is don't give a god of chaos a secret language

[nomaishuttle]

basically i think. and this isnt rly the 1930s its earlier probably but also still kinda. i think when god was coding my little brain or whatever he was like yeahhh this one will do really well in a time period where she can just lie and make up elaborate backstories and then completely disappear out of the blue to move on to a different life. shes going to have a really good time with that. and then he put me in a fucking surveillance state

[gardenlilgnome]

mmmmm im so exhausted.

[kingghoost]

Posting this Cybertronian Ratchet design because all the drawings I have ready forward use/reference it ^^

I made it awhile ago and it may not be super creative, but I actually didn't wanna change his design too much to portray how he himself doesn't change as a person (not in a bad way, he holds firmly to his beliefs and has a strong character💞)

I wrote a little backstory, too!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

" Long before the war, Ratchet was one of the many medics stationed in Kaon with the task of nursing fallen gladiators back to health. Though he was considered the best, many feared his temperamental attitude, especially his own patients. Despite the coincidence, Megatronus and Ratchet had never actually interacted face to face, although they were aware of each other's existence. That is, until they had both been introduced through their mutual friend, Orion Pax.

With the little free time he had, Ratchet was one to frequently travel to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records, whether to spend his time reading or doing research on personal projects. Then, he met Orion at his workplace, and the two quickly formed a strong bond. When they weren't hanging out in person, they would keep contact via comms (sorta like online friends.) One fateful day, Orion had taken some time off of work to visit Ratchet in Kaon, coincidentally at the same time Megatronus had started to make a name for himself and his cause. This resulted in him witnessing one of Megatronus' speeches live, thus allowing them to meet and form a partnership as well.

In a way, Orion Pax changed Ratchet. Being surrounded by corruption and oppression from the caste system where it was at its worst, Ratchet had given up any hopes of a better Cybertron. However, Orion's altruistic nature inspired him, guided him to prove his mettle in the Great War, and binded him to Orion's—now Optimus'—side for millennia, and many more to come. "

Corny? I'm not sure. The writing's not all that good because of its age, but getting the point across is all that matters..

I really love the idea of a Kaonian Ratchet 💞💞

Ratchet being an indirect cause to Orion and Megatronus meeting is super interesting to me as well... do you think after all that happened, he feels at fault? In the episode where Ratchet was telling everyone about Optimus' backstory, he seemed to have nothing but bad things to say about Megatron, so they probably never got along since the beginning...

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

Okay but like imagine Jason Todd living in Crime Alley and he has numerous safe houses in gotham some of witch just aren't for him and in fact are apartment complexes that he bought out for cheap possibly due to a little life-threatening scare by Red Hood and any time he's in crime alley and he notices that especially in the winter months that the kids are sick or don't have a dry place to live he just starts setting them up in the apartment complex, and none of the kids ever talk about where exactly that complex is because they love redhood... Also, I imagine that once a week Jason makes like a really big dinner and he just goes outside and serves it to the kids around crime alley, the kids all love him and feel safe with him. I imagine it gets to a point where if the kids are in danger or are worried or scared they just go running over to Red Hood some of the kids have taken to calling him dad, uncle, and other various family references.. And one day on the way back to one of his safe houses he just hears one of the younger street kids yelling dad and he turns to where its coming from and theres just this small kid holding another small kid in his arms and red's just like what happened and the kid just goes shes sick and idk what to do and red just kinda sighs and goes yeah alright follow me kid and he walks over to one of his main safe houses puts his bike away and gets the kids into the car but before continuing to the doc office he calls out through crime alley of if anyone's sick yall better come here i don't wanna do numerous trips and suddenly theres a small group of kids coming out of the shadows and he ushers them all into the car drives them all to gotham general and the receptionist doesn't bat an eye at the gaggle of sick kids or the fact redhood is checking them all in because he and the hospital have an understanding so he gets them all treated and seen and has to sit in with every nurse and doctor, at one point he gets a call from bruce asking why he's not on protrol and jason thinking nothing of it just goes i'm busy im at the hospital have dickface cover my patrol and then he hangs up to speak to the doctors and check on his kids..

bruce shows up at Gotham general just to find red surrounded by numerous children with various flu's colds coughs one of them has pneumonia and was just diagnosed with asthma and he's just taking notes while there's one child in his lap crying cause she's scared and he's just rocking her gently while writing down various treatment plans for each kid and what safe house he's putting them in because he'll be personally taking care of them... and one of the docs spot Bruce and is like excuse me mr. wayne you can't be back here patients only and redhood can be here because he's there acting guardian which makes Bruce's brain short-circuit entirely

Also alfred 100 percent knows about this and has helped red set up the rooms for the kids and everything and some of those big family dinners Jason has for the kids yeah he's using Alfred's recipes

How Jason got guardianship of these kids is because of Harvey dent he got the proper legal advice from Harvey

[rafeandonlyrafe]

wisdom teeth

words: 1.1k

warnings: dentist, blood

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

“ma’am?” the voice rings through the waiting area. your head shoots up, realizing that she must be talking to you.

“hi, how is he?” you question, slinging your purse over your shoulder and pocketing your phone.

“the procedure went completely fine. we are trying to place the gauze in his mouth now but he keeps insisting on seeing you.” the receptionist says, a slight blush to her cheeks.

“oh!” you say, eyebrows raising. 

“follow me, please.” she says, leading you back further into the building.

“he’s being quite rowdy, isn’t he?” you ask, able to hear through the shut door the incessant questions, asking where you are, asking why you aren’t with him.

“some patient react differently to the anesthesia. it’s nothing we haven’t seen before, so don’t be embarrassed, doll.” the receptionist assures you, opening the door and letting you into the post op room.

“baby! there’s my baby!” rafe says, his hair a mess over his forehead, blood dry and crusted on his chin.

“hey, rafey.” you say calmly, hoping your relaxed attitude will influence him to calm down. “i’m right here, honey.”

you cross to his bed, glancing briefly at the dental assistants, one who looks annoyed that their clean up is taking so long, but the other gives you a sweet smile.

“you’re so pretty.” rafe slurs. “i love you.”

“i love you too, honey.” you coo, taking his hand, still slightly limp, in yours. “you have to let the nice women help you though. they’re here to clean you up for me.”

“you gonna kiss me when im all clean?” rafe asks, his lower lip pouting out.

you nod. “gently though, baby.”

“what did they do to me?” rafe questions, now sitting still as the nurses wipe away the blood on his chin.

“they just took your wisdom teeth out. they were hurting you but you’ll feel all better now.” you explain softly, petting his hand and arm to calm him as the nurses continue to rub at the dried mess.

“open your mouth.” the mean looking nurse says, her voice too stern for your liking, but before you can speak up, rafe turns to her, a look of fury in his eyes.

“i will not open my mouth for you. i only do what my baby tells me to do, so fuck off.” “rafe, oh my god!” you shout as the sweet nurse cracks up. “watch your language.” “i’m sorry, but this girl was trying to flirt with me! she wanted me to open my mouth for her, can you believe that?” rafe asks, his eyes flickering between looking softly at you and glaring at the assistant.

“they just want to put some gauze in your mouth. open up and let them, sweetie.” “fine.” rafe hums, his brow scrunched together as he turns back to the nurse. “i will because my baby asked me to, not for you.”

you shake your head but smile when rafe opens his mouth, allowing them to finish cleaning up. you stay next to his bed, holding his hand firmly in yours.

“can i be alone with my baby now?” he asks them as the nice assistant tells rafe he can close his mouth now.

“we recommend waiting at least a half hour until the anesthesia wears off a bit more before trying to get him out to the car. we can leave you two in here, but try not to let him talk too much, it’s only going to cause his mouth to bleed more.” “that’ll be hard, but i’ll try. thank you.” you nod to them as they leave the room.

“rafey, be quiet for me, okay baby?” you tell him, sitting down on the side of the bed, stroking your hand through his hair to smooth it out over his forehead, back in its proper place on either side of his part.

“but i want to tell you how beautiful you are and how much i love you and how much i wanna marry you one day and how much i lov-” “thank you, rafe.” you cut him off. “you can tell me all that real soon, but for now you have to be quiet so your mouth can heal, mmkay?”

“fine, i’ll stop talking. but you did promise me a kiss.” rafe says, and then dramatically shuts his mouth before puckering his lips.

“a gentle one.” you remind him, leaning forward and pressing your lips as softly as you can against his, putting your hands on his chest to stop rafe from leaning forward and deepening the kiss.

you pull away, but before rafe can open his mouth to complain, you kiss along his cheeks, then forehead, covering his face in soft presses of your lips to keep him happy and calm.

you tuck your chin into the crook between his shoulder and neck, stroking your hand over his chest as you cuddle up to him. “i’ll talk to you to keep you entertained, yeah?” rafe nods, nuzzling into your hair. you begin to whisper stories into his ear, anything you can remember to pass the time. tales your mother told you when you were little, or recapping movies that you’ve watched enough times to remember the plot clearly.

theres a knock on the door as you straighten up, calling out for the assistant to come in. she enters the room with a wheelchair. “time to go!” “yes.” rafe says, pumping his fist in excitement. “did you here that baby? its time to go.”

“i did, rafey. remember we are supposed to be quiet though.”

“thats right.” rafe nods. “im letting my mouth heal.”

the nurse laughs gently, wheeling the chair towards the bed. rafe is able to get into it pretty much without your help, but sends the assistant a glare when she tries to push the wheelchair.

“you’re gonna take me someplace without my baby again?”

“no, honey, she’s just helping us get to the car. and then i’m gonna take you home.” you explain softly, moving to walk ahead of the wheelchair so rafe can keep you in his sight.

“we live together?” rafe asks as you help him into the passenger side seat of the car.

“we do.” you remind him, taking the buckle and strapping it across his chest. you thank the assistant, who tells you again what rafe can and can’t do over the next 24 hours, before bidding you both farewell. 

you carefully shut rafes door before rounding the other side of the car. you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek before putting the car into drive, thankful that its a short way home so you can get rafe laying and relaxing again soon.

you click the radio on, but rafe frowns and shuts it off. 

“whats wrong baby?” you question. “don’t want to listen to music?” “no.” rafe shakes his head, an adorable pout on his lips. “i want to hear more of your stories.”

you let out a soft laugh before conceding. “of course baby.”

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[gothic-thoughts]

Clearing Up Confusion

(sry its so long, i got a lil down bad i love him sm 😭)

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, AsylumPatient!Michael, Nurse!Reader, Forbidden Love, Virgin!Michael

Part 1: Right Here

Part 2: Right Here

Part 3: Right Here

CW: Confused Michael lol, afab parts mentioned, groping/palming, ✋🏾job, riding

TW: quick murder mention

Word Count: 2229 (give or take)

Michael didn't get it.

After months of knowing her, he still couldn't understand why (Y/n)'s body was always so... animated. Her hanging earrings bounced when she walked and her box braids swayed when she shook her head— on top of that, she was jiggly. Top, middle...bottom. 

He didn't understand and it made him mad.

She walks into the cafeteria, those plump, dark thighs wiggling under her white nurse dress— as usual. (Y/n) glances over with a small wave but he doesn’t respond despite his attraction to her, he only squints behind that orange mask as she disappears between the kitchen doors. A couple minutes later, the nurse walks back out, still unaware of her slightly bouncing ass and thighs as she sipped from a small paper cup.

“See ya tomorrow, Mikey!”

Cold blue eyes follow her until she vanishes from them when stepping through the open cafeteria doors. Michael turns to look over his left shoulder and then his right, noting the two security guards standing behind him with tight grips on his chains. He knows that they’ll either try to stop him or go with him if he leaves— he just wants to talk to her in peace. He resets his position before gazing back down at his cold, untouched food. 

The killer then slowly stands up, his almost 7-foot form casting an imposing shadow over the guards as he turns to face them. The guards immediately recoil and reach for their tasers but as soon as they do both of Michael’s hands grab their necks and simultaneously break them before dropping them to the floor with thuds, disregarding the cameras. He then turns to look at the exit.

Michael followed his nurse’s footsteps down the hall until he found her in the next, still drinking her water— still jiggling, unaware that one of the most violent and murderous patients escaped. Before he could grab her, another nurse turned the corner at the other end of the hall and gasped, stammering incoherently. (Y/n)’s steps slow down from her confusion, unknowingly making it easier for him.

“The hell is your problem— Mmh!?”

Michael’s hand suddenly covers her mouth, muffling her screams as he walks her back to his room. He shuts the door with a loud slam before turning and walking over to her.

“Hey, hey!” She called, eyebrows furrowed at him.

The Shape freezes.

“What did I say about the manhandling?”

His body tenses knowingly. He was so eager to see her, that he completely disregarded their agreement.

“Didn’t I say that if you wanna touch me, you gotta be gentle?”

He takes another step then gently places his fingers on her cheek, delicately stroking her cheek to show her understood— to show he was sorry. The gesture made her laugh a little, the sound, in turn, soothing his nerves as he continued to pet her like he would his masks. He didn’t like when she was disappointed in him; he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if she was ever mad at him.

“It’s alright, you just scared the shit outta me. Now, why’d you need me so bad?”

He just stares down at her for a second, head tilting as he examines the unusual stillness of her body.

“Mikey...?” (Y/n) called, reaching out to rub his arm, “Michael, what’s the matter?”

Michael wordlessly spun the nurse around by her shoulders then guided her forward until her breasts and stomach were pressed against the wall next to his door, pinning her between him and the cement as gently as he could. He crouches down behind her so he can begin his analysis, starting with the jiggle in her thighs right as they stop. He got it: it was her movement; it had everything to do with why she was so jiggly. He gently swats the left one to truly confirm his observation.

“Wha— hey!” She squirms, “What are you— hey! Michael! Where is this coming from?”

Keeping one large hand pressed against her lower back, Michael uses the other finger to curiously poke and prod at (Y/n)’s left thigh. He then swats the right, making her tense then chuckle uncomfortably at his cluelessness but it was cut short with a sharp gasp when Michael squeezes the left thigh just under her ass, watching the smooth, dark flesh rise like bread between his spread fingers.

“Okay, okay, I get it: you like my thighs. Is that really why you pulled me in here?”

He didn’t even grunt out a response. He was damn near ignoring her with every poke and caress he gave her thighs. He wasn’t even aware of how perverted he was being, he was just so immersed, a contrast to how angry his confusion made him earlier. His cold, inexperienced hand slowly slid up the back of her thigh until it rested on her butt, the boldness making her gasp sharply.

“Hey!”

(Y/n) reached back to swat it away, making him look up at her with a head tilt.

“You can’t touch me there, Michael, I’m your nurse!”

He was confused again. Why would she say that to him? He knows that.

He brushes it off and focuses back on her ass, treating it the same way he did her thighs: with experimental pokes, squishes, and smacks, but it eventually gave him a result he wasn’t expecting: a soft hum. He stops, head tilting again. Michael smacks her ass again, granting more jiggling and another hum from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I know you’re curious but...” She shivers at the next smack, gulping thickly, “I'm your nurse, you can’t feel me up like this.”

More confusion: why does she keep saying that like he doesn’t know? 

He stands up behind her, instantly towering as he gently grabs her hips and pulls her back his cold body until his pelvis is pressed firmly against her lower back. She tilts her head back and looks up at that orange mask, waiting for him to move away, continue groping, anything but he remains still, seemingly done but when (Y/n) tries to move he holds her against him with a soft grunt. Little did she know, Michael was looking down at her with some kind of desire— a desire he felt before.

He was lost again, but this time it was combined with worry. Something about how she was looking up at him, how warm she was, how jiggly she was made his desire to kill grow... but he didn’t want to kill her. He knew he didn’t, the thought of hurting her made him mad at himself. In the end, he began groping her furiously hoping the feeling would go away.

“Mmh, Michael—”

He tunes her out, trying to focus on the warmth of her body as his big, rough, inexperienced hands roam up and down her curves, but it is torment: calming him down while still riling up his bloodlust. His hands reach around, worshipping her breasts, grasping at her tummy, caressing her thighs, and squishing her butt, all of which made more gasps and hums come out of her. He grabbed the inside of her thighs and that made her thighs part a little more as a soft moan of his name slipped out. Michael’s hands pause as he finally acknowledges the stiffness that pressing against her soft butt and making his sweats tighter.

“Oh god...” (Y/n) breathes out, palming the wall, “Did you make yourself hard?”

He tilts his head.

“Hard, y’know, horny? You never felt that before?”

He adjusts his head, hands refusing to leave your sides as he processes the fact that he isn’t feeling bloodlust, just the regular kind.

“Ugh, okay, lemme think... Does it hurt?”

A subtle nod.

“Of course it does.” She sighs shakily, trying to ignore the size of him against her crack, “Um, fuck, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? Dammit, I’ll lose my job.”

Michael’s hands tighten on her sides, lowering to her hips to pull her back again.

“Wait... they can’t really fire me, can they? They need me, right? This is the calmest you’ve ever been thanks to me.”

He hunches over (Y/n) and buries his mask in the side of her neck as he hugs her— something she’s only recently taught him how to do. She chuckles at the gesture but it’s replaced with a soft hum when he starts humping his aching erection against her ass, his hips gradually moving faster the closer he pulls her back to him. She lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay, okay, okay; I’ll help you, but you gotta be gentle and listen to everything I say, alright?”

Michael nods into her neck, the papier-mâché mask scratching between her chin and shoulder.

“It might get a little hot, you sure you wanna keep your mask on?”

Another nod.

“First, go lay back on your bed.”

His heavy body practically disappeared from the nurse’s back and when she turned she found him already laid back on his shitty mattress with his large cock twitching and trying to stand in his pants. She gulped as she made her way over, kicking off her heels and mentally preparing herself for everything: her explanation if her boss caught them, the ridicule if anyone else caught them... the fat cock practically dying to be let out. (Y/n) takes a breath as she pulls down his pants and underwear, letting all 9 inches spring free which earned a soft sigh from behind that mask.

“Holy fuck...” She whispers, her mouth-watering before she composes herself, “I mean, um, better?”

Another subtle nod. The nurse hesitantly dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them before climbing on the bed and straddling the behemoth’s muscular thighs, the action making her dress hiked up over her ass as she stared down at the throbbing dick standing before her pelvis. (Y/n) takes a breath and wraps her hand around the pole, stroking from the wide base to the tip, making it leak effortlessly.

“Good god, where were you hiding this shit?”

Michael tilts his head back into his pillow with a huff every time her hand passed over the leaky, sensitive tip that he was grinding against her butt, his eyes closing at the new sensation.

 

“You like that? Feels better?”

He nods, hair disheveled all over his pillow. His nurse watches his chest rise and fall with every stroke over his pulsing veins, the sight making her drip onto him as she began humping him to get her own pleasure. Michael suddenly grabs her wrist with a huff, trying to convey the message of wanting it faster but his nurse thought he was being needy and carefully moved a little higher on his body with her palms planted firmly on his clothed chest.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He was confused again but remained still to see what she was going to do since she held his cock upright. The killer’s body tensed slightly when she started to lower her cunt on him with groans through every inch until her jiggly form was somewhat seated on his lap. His eyes were wide behind the mask, watching her breasts rise and fall to the beat of her shaky breath as her tight, wet channel slid down his shaft. (Y/n) tenses, gripping his shoulders tightly to which he abruptly sits up and grabs her hips to steady her on his lap.

"Yup, like that. You're gonna just hold my hips, okay?"

He grunts lowly behind the mask and guides her the rest of the way down until her cheeks are squished against his thighs. She looked up at him, already weak from the delicious feeling of his cockhead pressing on her cervix and his pulse throbbing against her g-spot. (Y/n) shivers in an attempt to control herself enough to tell him what was next but she was caught off guard by him starting to drag her up and down his fat cock by her hips.

“Wha- how d-do you... know how to...” Her mind trails off from her body already seeking an orgasm, “Oh my god, Mike... right there...”

Hearing praise from his favorite nurse always made Michael’s heart skip a beat regardless of him never showing it but now he made sure (Y/n) could feel just how much he loved hearing her approval even if it came in the form of moans and grunts. Her whimpers and groans were suddenly accompanied by a shaky hand that reached between them and pressed to his pelvis, trying to slow his thrusts while wet, squelching echoed off the cement walls of his room.

“M-Mikey, wait, big guy. Gimme a...” She trails off, eyes rolling back, “A... a fuckin’ minute, didn’t expect you to be so... ugh, my god, yess~”

The Boogeyman stopped moving her for a moment only to grab her wrists as gently as he could and hold them behind her back with one hand while the other gripped her hip firmly before both hands worked together to resume her bounces her on his lap. She gasps out, throwing her head back and arching her back as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around him as he continues to wordlessly bounce her on his lap and fuck her through an intense, eye-crossing orgasm.

"Michael... Mikey, you're doing amazing, b-baby~"

She looks up at him, amazed and already dizzy from how steady and sure he was moving her, every drop followed by barely a huff. Not every lift from exertion, every fucking drop. He wasn't tired. Hell, he was never tired. (Y/n) clenched her fists behind her back tightly and moaned loudly with how delicious each stroke against her g-spot and hit against her cervix felt, glad she didn't have to teach him a goddamn thing.

But in the back of her mind she got the feeling that she might need to teach the Boogeyman was how to stop.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(a/n): I cut it short tbh, but lmk if yall want it longer 💙💙

[omiangelic]

shared moments (dabi)

a handful of shared moments between you and your maybe more than friend, touya todoroki, the flame villain.

this is a prequel to the first fic i posted, pheonix, but it could be read as a standalone !

wc: 2.8k

reader is not described but is implied to have a quirk that makes them colder. i also imply that they're a nurse who frequently works with burn patients, including dabi's victims.

cw: 18+ ONLY !!! no smut, just kissing, grinding, and shirts come off but it ends pretty quickly after that. dabi accidentally wounds reader (a small burn from trying to wake him from a nightmare), mentions of abuse, murder, dying, and nausea. soft yet emotionally stunted and avoidant dabi

playlist: maybe by flower face, zombie by everglow, voidstar and longlegs by grim salvo

He’s shaking, head in your lap. You think he might be crying, but his hands are covering his face as he curls up as tight as he can. Dabi didn’t usually spend the night, but on rare occasion you can wrangle him into sleeping a few hours before running off who knows where. Tonight had been fun, daresay cozy, watching bad movies under a blanket so you could use him as a space heater and he could use you as an icepack.

It’s near four in the morning, far past when he usually sneaks out of your tiny apartment, when you awoke to his distress. He’d been squirming on his side of your too-small bed, mumbling and whimpering unconsciously. Even now, you don’t think he’s realized the small burn on your arm from trying to wake him, but you don’t move to soothe it; you’re too busy trying to soothe him. You rub his side over his shirt and pet a hand through his spiky hair even though he’s long since stopped shaking. You pretend you don’t care you have work in a few hours.

Now, he’s completely motionless, arms fallen to the cushion of the mattress. His voice is raspier than normal when he finally speaks, “…Sorry about that.”

“’S okay. I’ve seen worse.”

You both know he’s caused your ‘worse’.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on up here?” You tap your fingers softly against his temple. It’s a miracle he hasn’t moved yet.

“Don’t think that’s something you’d wanna hear about.”

“You can tell me anyways,” you can practically hear him go over the notion in his head. You met almost a year and you hardly know anything about the man besides his preferred snacks and the types of movies he likes to make fun of.

He thinks for a bit before stating, “you’ve never asked about my scars.”

You hum in agreement. The healed tissue is naturally textured but worsened from insufficient aftercare. The skin grafts look like they were done by someone with medical experience, at least. “Were you dreaming about when you got them?” The scar tissue on his face always made it look like the flames had tried to take him in its hands; like it wanted to soothe him. Console him. You want to do the same.

“Kinda,” he says after another long pause, like he’s trying to find the words, “maybe more like ‘why’.”

He can’t see you frown at that. You don’t like the implication it carries.

He’s quiet for a long time while you brush through his hair. It’s gotten longer- you think you can see blonde roots peak through the inky black.

“My old man…real shit guy,” he takes in a shaky breath and subtly curls deeper into your lap, “I’m gonna kill him one day.”

(You didn’t think he was serious, then.)

“All he cares about is power. He bought my ma so he could create a child more powerful than him. I’m the oldest of four- and his biggest failure,” you wince at the way he chuckles, “It’s funny. He got what he wanted. My youngest brother is a prodigy. He’s one of the top students at U.A.,” Dabi stops again, like he has to prepare himself for what he’s about to say, “I hated that kid for so long. Tried to kill him when he was a toddler, wanted to prove I was better than him. When I was twelve or thirteen I told dear old dad I got stronger,” another pause “He didn’t care,” another pause, like he’s debating telling you the rest at all, “I burned down half a forest, woke up three years later. The fucker who fixed me up showed me pictures of my funeral and everything. Ma got institutionalized not long after…but I gave myself a new name, since I died that day.”

“What was his name?” You ask impulsively. You wish you could take those words back, stuff them in your mouth and swallow them down

“Who’s?” He looks up.

“The boy who died.”

Dabi looks away again, contemplates before relenting, “Touya. Touya Todoroki”

“Touya sounds like a sweet kid. I hope he’s resting easy.”

It’s like the words flipped a switch in him. He shoots to sit up straight. His eyes are angry. Scared.

“You don’t know shit about him.”

“That’s not the point.”

He gets up, paces the length of the bed a few times, stops, looks at the ground, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know shit about me.”

“And whose fault is that?” You really need to learn when to shut your stupid mouth.

He looks up. Sees you fully for the first time since waking. He can see the welt he caused on your arm in his post-nightmare panic. His anger dies. His eyes widen. You reach to slap your hand over it to shield it from view, but he has his jeans on and his jacket and boots in hand before you can find words to say. He’s out the door before you can ask him not to leave.

(You call out of work that day. You won’t hear from him for three weeks.)

Later that day, the search results for Touya Todoroki hurt as bad as you expected them to. There aren’t many paparazzi pictures of him, only a handful of him with his dad at award ceremonies.

His dad. Pro hero Endeavor.

The news coverage of his son’s death is minimal, and it’s mostly about Endeavor taking a leave of absence from hero duties to grieve with his family, but the obituary is public. The white haired boy in the picture looks so young. It’s not very detailed aside from denoting that his funeral was a private ceremony.

You open a new tab and search for fire related quirk malfunctions or natural disasters from around the same time. Its not hard to narrow down that the forest fire that destroyed Sekoto Peak was Dabi’s doing. The flames had been massive and unnaturally hot, nearly impossible to contain. There was barely anything left besides charred bone fragments from wildlife and the partial jawbone of the only human casualty they could find. The victim is unnamed, but it says the police were able to identify them through dental records and bring closure to the family.

There’s a handful of pictures of Endeavor at the scene. They make your stomach churn.

A third tab. Endeavor. There are news articles about his most recent achievements and a few about his youngest son, Shoto, who recently passed the entrance exams into U.A., just like Dabi said.

You feel nauseous.

It’s so comfy laying here wrapped around him like a koala. He’s cold and hot at the same time. There’s one hand cradling the back of your head to his chest while the other rubs your back over the blanket he draped over you.

You don’t usually let him in when work gets you like this. He’s usually the cause, being the most prolific fire quirked villain in the country, but you felt like you needed him today. A little boy had come in with his parents after his first quirk manifestation. All you could see was a young Touya Todoroki when you looked at him. Now all you feel is the pain you feel for the real thing who has you cradled in his arms like you’re more than maybe a friend.

Dabi is prickly when it comes to touch- despite the nerve damage, his scars are sensitive- but for you, he makes exceptions, especially since this is his first time seeing you since his meltdown last month. When he woke up in his dingy-ass apartment today, he knew he had to see you, knew something was wrong. His gut was right. You practically collapsed crying in his arms when you opened the door.

You’ve barely said anything since he’s settled the two of you down on your bed. Every time he thinks about saying something, you burrow impossibly closer into his chest like if you try hard enough you can crawl in his ribs and clean out all the ash and soot that make him up.

He wants to apologize for how he left. He wants to tell you he was scared, that he’s still scared, because he’s never let anyone get close the way you have, and he doesn’t know why he yearns for you to be closer. It’s the only time he ever wishes things had gone differently. If he was closer to a normal guy, less of one of the most wanted villains in the country, maybe he’d let himself be happy to be known by you.

But the only thing Dabi can do is destroy. He burns too hot to be anyone’s light.

Dabi is ruthless. He’s a monster, a villain, a killer; there’s nothing that could clean the blood from his hands.

That doesn’t stop him from pretending things are different, even if just for a moment. You’re naturally cooler to the touch and he finds it hard to imagine ever choosing to be anywhere but in your arms. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling.

Dabi’s never had to comfort someone before. He’s never really wanted to, either.

He isn’t one to be soft or kind or comforting. It’s all so confusing. How do you drag this out of him? Why is he so content with this moment? Something about you makes him different. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s scared. He’s angry. He’s unhappy.

You pull yourself away from him completely, scooting to lay on your back on the other side of your bed.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “you can go now. That was probably really uncomfortable for you. You can leave now, if you want.”

Your eyes are so empty. He’s never seen you like this. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he wants to stay, make his last visit up to you with more time tonight, but would you rather he go? Should he ask about what upset you? This is so new to him.

He leaves.

The next time he’s over, you pretend to not notice the tension in the air. You move around in your usual sync, gathering snacks and scrolling through the worst rated movies you can find. You feign obliviousness to the way his eyes linger on you for longer than usual and curl up on the opposite side of the choice from him, like the months of slowly shifting closer to each other didn’t happen.

The jokes are bored and the laughs are empty.

He doesn’t spend the night. You don’t ask him to. He doesn’t know why he feels so hollowed out when he leaves.

A few weeks later, after watching movies and ignoring elephants in rooms, you fall asleep. Dabi waits, lets whatever’s playing continue to run while he watches you breathe in and out at a steady rhythm.

The credits roll. He turns off the T.V. and welcomes the darkness lit only by the city as he gets up to lay you down on your little couch. He’s never done this for you before- he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. Your eyes flutter open as he kisses your forehead and tucks you into your blanket you keep out here.

(He did it without thinking, like it was natural, a habit. He was a big brother, once. He hadn’t realized that part of him survived.)

You look up at him as he stares down at you, eyebrows furrowed at his surprised expression. His eyes flicker to your lips without his permission. He’s already leaning over you, it’d be so easy to crawl on top of you, kiss you, wherever and however you want.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it. Maybe it’s Himiko’s insistence he grow up and take the risk, maybe it’s a moment of weakness where he allows himself to forget who and what he is, but he’s pressing a soft kiss to your lips without realizing. The contact makes your head jerk back, eyes wide in shock, surprise, wonder. You look at him like there’s something worthy of being looked at. His mouth moves to apologize, but you’re shooting your hands to hold his scarred cheeks and pressing you lips to his before he can try. Your skin is so cold against his had surprised at the lack of steam. He thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t reciprocate in his shock. His response is even further delayed by the fact that he’s never done this before. He feels like a teenager- or what he imagines what being a teenager under more normal circumstances would allow him. As you move to pull away, afraid you’ve somehow overstepped, Dabi is snapped out of his shock, and he’s pulling you back in. His kiss is messy, wet, spit slick as his tongue licks into your mouth with no hesitation. The taste of his urgency is unexpected but he feels so incredible you can hardly stand it. You revel in the way his dull nails bite into your skin when you whimper at the sensation.

His hands are heavy as they make their way down your body, nearly pushing like he needs a constant reminder that this is real. Before you know it, he’s on the couch, on top of you, pushing at your shirt and you’re pulling it over your head in compliance. Dabi takes the moment to yank off his own; his torso is a marble of normal and scarred skin with a shiny barbell through each nipple. You wonder briefly if the metal is hot like the rest of his skin as his lips crash back into yours. One hand in your hair, the other on your waist- he’s pushing you down, pulling you in, until he's all but crushing you in his desperation.

You moan when he lets up, “Dabi-“

“No, no- don’t call me that. I don’t want to feel like a villain with you,” he’s equally breathless, practically heaving above you.

“…Touya?”

Your uncertainty is immediately discarded when he fully moans at the sound of his given name on your lips, “yes, yes, thank you-“ and he’s kissing you again, cradling your face like you’re porcelain but grinding down like you’re the farthest thing from fragile.

His grip tightens when the pressure of his hips makes you moan.

The weight of his body makes you dizzy. His lips and hands move down your neck, licking, biting, and sucking at all the skin newly exposed to him and it feels so good you don’t now what to do with yourself. You decide on shoving your hands in his hair; you’re pulling it at the root when he bites down next, and he’s moaning into your throat like it might kill him to be quiet.

What does he want from me? The question crashes through your brain like a bullet. You don’t know if you want to actually ask. Would it be so bad to let this happen, just to have him close like this? Is the burden of wanting from afar easier to carry than having him halfway? Yes. Of course it is.

Your sudden unresponsiveness stills him. He pulls away to find your eyes distant and face neutral.

“Touya?” You ask after a silent minute filled with his thumbs rubbing circles in your waist, “what did that mean? To you, for us?”

He gulps, “I don’t know.”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t thought at all.

“You don’t know,” you echo.

He’s off you before you can decide what to make of his answer.

“Sorry, don’t know why I did that- sorry,” you think you hear as he fumbles around for his coat and his boots. You don’t say anything. You don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus on the ceiling it’s almost too dark to see. You think you hear him pause at your door, but your head is so loud and intelligible you aren’t paying attention.

The static doesn’t block out the sound of your front door shutting, though.

(Neither of you realize he left his shirt behind until after he’s already out the door. You pretend you resist the urge to cuddle it to catch his scent on it, and he will pretend he doesn’t imagine you doing just that.)

Ever the coward, Touya runs. He throws up his shame once he’s in his own apartment. He knows he shouldn’t have left. He didn’t want to- but he didn’t know how to stay either.

He hates himself more than he has in a long time for tonight.

His burner buzzes in his pocket. It’s Shigaraki. plans in motion.

He doesn’t think you’ll forgive him for doing this, but it’s been building since before he met you. It’s not like he has any sort of life or future to look forward to anyways. It’s not like he gives you much to miss anyways.

Soon. Endeavor’s head. Soon.

dividers by @/issysh3ll and @/thecutestgrotto

♡ Return to Navigation ♡ Masterlist ♡ About Me ♡ Main ♡ Fic Recs ♡

[little-fairy-forest]

Scars of your love

Bakugo x fem! reader, domestic, romantic, mentions of children

*thump* *thump* *thump*

The bakugo heart was a strong, powerful organ. It contained so much love, power, and emotions. It is able to withstand many sceanrios ; hurtful words, losing a loved one, producing love to another...

This powerful heart is passed down each generation, a true heirloom of the bakugo name.

***

The florescent lights are turned dim to accommodate the tiny patient. Wires too small for anyone to need, a hat so tiny it could be a sock,

But a strong heart to keep fighting.

Katsuki looks down at his son inside the NICU, wires and tubes surrounding him like a jungle..oh how he wants to tear each one away and hold him close.

The sound of the electrocardiogram being the only sound bouncing off the walls, the occasional beep of the machine breaking the rhythm.

"He's a fighter kats" y/n says as she sits in the nursing chair across from the nicu bassinet, watching as her husband looks down at their premature son.

" 'course he is, just like his papa....heart stronger then titanium," katsuki lets out softly, careful to not disturb his sons peaceful slumber.

"He'll be out in no time, the nurses estimate only a week or two more before he can come home if he keeps up with the weight gain and recovery like he is now.."

"I just wanna hold him so bad...lil guy shouldn't be in this world if we aint holdin him"

Katsuki wipes his tired eyes, hours spent in a hospital can be draining even if you're not the patient

"I know love...soon.." y/n says with a soft smile..

"Soon...when his hearts stronger...: katsuki mumbles

Y/n smiles at the pair, even though their son is no older then a few days, the bakugo genes are so strong, its uncanny how similar they already are.

"You'll both have a matching heart scar, like papa like son" y/n says softly as her husband gazes up lovingly at her, knowing shes right. The bakugo heart is a strong powerhouse, he'll be damned if his son hates his scar in the future.

"Damn right, this lil guy will know how strong he is one day..."

Good to be back

[vagabond-umlaut]

gesundheit

you deem gojo to be the most stubborn nurse you've ever seen. you suppose you're the most stubborn patient gojo's ever seen.

but what you don't know is you both are the most caring, and the most idiotic, couple of best friends [or perhaps... something else] anyone's ever seen.

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; sickfic; mentions of flu & the medicines treating it [i wish i could include their composition too but no :(((]; a brief appearance of yummy chicken soup; gallons & gallons of tooth-rotting fluff; one sexual innuendo; ETERNALLY PINING 'TORU & ETERNALLY OBLIVIOUS SHORTIE ARE BACK!! :D

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

obdurate, obstinate, bull-headed, pig-headed—

you reckon there's no word in the lexicon of any language, from any corner of this world, that can adequately describe the boy crouched before you.

furrowed brows barely visible from behind the unkempt white bangs, gojo shoots you a woefully concerned look, so much so that it makes you wanna smack it right off his face– and says, "your temperature is still above 100, shortie. you sure you took all the medications right on time?"

"i did," you grit out through clenched teeth and a hoarse throat before a fit of cough racks through your warm body, making you clutch onto your blankets for dear life while the airways fight to expel the irritants into the tissue you've pressed over the lower two-thirds of your face—

a painful battle which continues for a good portion of a minute or two before ending– temporarily— you toss the tissue into the overflowing trash can few feet away and return to glaring at your best friend, with a very exhausted, very frustrated sigh.

gojo's shades glint back innocently in the low light of the television as the boy dutifully places the thermometer in its box then moves to put the lids back on the tupperware he brought you dinner in.

you sigh yet again, wrapping the blankets tighter round yourself.

"sometimes, i wonder if you ever learnt to read, y'know?" you mumble in a soft voice, yet its tone mad enough to make him flinch as he rises from the carpet– having cleared the center table of the remainders of the chicken soup haibara made for you– only to cover it a tiny second later with anti-pyretics, cough syrups, nasal decongestants, inhalers-

gasp of shock worsening into a scratchy cough, you wheeze out, "did you really not read my messages, 'toru? i asked u to leave my soup at the doorstep but you warped right to the centre of my living room— i also asked you not to buy any medicine for me, i already bought them today, but- but- you literally bought the entire medicine shop for me!"

"yeah. and?" the white-haired boy retorts, short and sweet with that eye-crinkling beam of his– one he knows never not works on you, "it isn't like i don't have the means to afford it. and as for your orders via the messages..."

he trails off, shooting you a wink as he moves to plop down near your feet on the sofa and drawls, "i've always been a brat. why don't ya put me back in my place, huh?"

in his place... don't tell me this idiot's speaking of...

"is that supposed to be a bdsm thing, satoru?" you inquire, genuinely confused. concerned. "and you should raise your standards, y'know? thinking a person sick and dying from a flu to be attractive enough to apply a pick-up line on them; i hone– hey, no, why the fuck are you—"

"scoot. over."

neither gojo's stony tone nor his pinched features brook any room for you to disagree, yet you decide not to be held back by such, legs and arms struggling to free themselves from the blanket to push the way too tall figure squeezing you into the sofa as he lies down beside you.

not even a moment passes before your blankets are rudely ripped off your body, then dumped on the floor beneath. swallowing back a sigh of relief– the fan feels so good!– you muster a glower to shoot at your best friend.

earning an eyeroll and a huff, you know are fond, in reply.

"the paracetamol will be kicking in soon, and you'll start sweating like hell then," the boy explains, plucking his shades off and placing them on the table beside, "and that sweat needs to get evaporated asap for your fever to reduce asap— which won't happen if you stay swaddled in your blankets. didn't ya know that, shortie?"

your fever-stricken mind didn't until now, but you decide not to voice the fact out loud, just to not appease the smug grin on that bastard's face.

instead, you retort, "but don't you know staying in close contact with a sick person, taking no preacutions, can make you fall ill too?"

"nah!" gojo shoves your concern away with a dismissive shake of his head, "i'm not one of the strongest duo for nothing, you know? them weakass flu viruses can do nothing to me."

then adds, swiping a calloused palm over the skin of your forehead— cracking a smile, you realize, is 'cause he finds it sweating, "moreover, you're sick, shortie— you don't think i'm gonna leave you to take care of yourself, all alone with no one to help, do you?"

you don't.

of course, you don't, knowing who your dearest friend is— a very very stubborn boy, a store of immense power, but most importantly— the holder of a heart made from the purest of pure gold...

a half-hearted ugh is the only response you decide to grace his query with, not really minding when the boy ruffles your hair and pulling the thinnest of the blankets over you both, shifts so that he is now on his side with an arm tucked under his head, while you remain squished in between him and the sofa, face nearly pressing into his shirt-covered chest.

allowing a beat to pass, you peer up at him, mumbling tiredly.

"but why are you sleeping with me here, 'toru? go to one of the rooms and sleep in them. your legs will hurt a lot tomorrow, if you keep them dangling like that."

"let them," gojo smiles, wrapping a loose arm round your midsection, "it's more important for me to stay close to you to know when you're feeling sick and when you're not- or do you wanna make me sleep on the floor? i can do that for you."

"i am not saying this for me, 'toru," you grumble, inching closer to him despite your brain barking opposite instructions at you, "it's for you– i move a lot when i'm asleep. you won't get even a wink of sleep."

your best friend's lips lift knowingly. "why do you think i trapped you like this, hm?"

your zeal to dissuade him, itself fades a little. still, you persist, "i also tend to mumble in my sleep. won't you find that creepy?"

"nothing's creepy if it's in your sweet voice," he answers with a very... uncanny smile then rushes to add with a visibly exhausted sigh when you shoot him a frown, "i've got earplugs in my bag. i'll use them if it's too unbearable for me."

"tch!"

the battle of talking him out of this seemingly- definitely lost, you tsk and move to shut your eyes, finally letting your ailing body to listen to the call of sleep— before your eyes fly open again— a brand new idea whirring to life in your mind.

"but what if i start sneezing, or worse, coughing in the middle of the night? what are you go—"

"shut up," gojo shushes you, pressing your face into his shirt by a firm hold on the back of your head. you make a yelp of protest but it goes ignored by him as he continues, voice dropping to a pleasant rumble.

"and in case you start sneezing or coughing, i'm gonna wake up and take care of you and will stay awake till you're perfectly okay and fine— is that clear to you, shortie? taking care of you is only why i'm here tonight— why else would i bother myself with a snot-nosed person?"

his remark makes your fingers want to pinch his sides hard– but you stop them— choosing to let them draw nonsensical designs over his back, instead. a barely-there shiver passes through his body, you feel it, the same moment he removes his hand from the back of your hair to keep it in between your shoulder blades, lightly pressing, loosening the knots there.

yawning a little, you nuzzle into him at the comfort his action gives, then blink a pair of bleary eyes up at him, "do you know how much i adore you?"

curiosity and delight dimple his cheeks in a smile, clear as day for you to see. he asks, "you do?"

"mmhm," you don't waste even an instant in humming your assent, the relief brought by the medicines and gojo making you slowly fall into the grasp of slumber, "i really do. you're very very very precious to me and i adore you so much, 'toru. you're the best."

"i'm very happy to know that," the boy murmurs in a tone way too soft for him, but your slowly ebbing consciouness doesn't let you dwell on it for long— a smile shaping your lips at his next words, "and i too love you very much. i lo-"

he stops abruptly, making you frown up at him, worried— only to find him wearing a bright grin on his face. something tells you he is hiding something— his eyes are too nervous for a bragging person as him...

deciding not to pay it any attention, you pucker your lips into a pout.

"heyyy," you whine, "finish your sentence, 'toru!!! you can't leave your darling best friend hanging like thattt!!!"

the tension in his facial muscles reduces a pinch at your demand. the boy's grin widens, glowing even brighter to your tired eyes than those led-like blue eyes of his in the dim lights of the room.

thumbing your cheek lightly, he gives into your urging. "okay, fine— i love my darling shortie the most in this world. so much so that there is no one in this world who can love you as much as i do," he says in a gentle whisper, then adds— face growing that same strange smile as before— "my beloved best friend... now does that make you happy?"

the abrupt change in his tone to an oddly cheery quality as he makes his query is more than enough to give you one hell of a whiplash. you quickly sidestep it– filing the many queries it brings, away to be dealt with on a healthier day.

a brief shiver sending you press yourself closer into his comforting self, you close your eyes and mumble into the fabric of his shirt, "it makes me the happiest... thank you, 'toru. i too love you the most."

a tiny beat passes before you feel a feather-light kiss landing on your hairline— and that's the last thing you notice, before your drowsiness finally claims you, lulling you to a restful sleep in the safe embrace of your dearest 'toru.

▸ IMPORTANT NOTE: whatever u do, pls don't be as dumb as 'toru or shortie here!! if u r the one suffering from a flu or if u r the one taking care of a person who has flu, pls take the required precautions, and take care of urself and the ppl around u! love u sm!

[as a med student, it literally pained me to write these two being so stupid & careless when dealing with an illness as infectious and irritating like flu... but oh well. anything is possible in fiction, right? 🙃]

▸ masterlist

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 4: fever can melt ice. even the coldest of hearts can melt; even the past can be fixed...

❄ a/n: a little longer with a lot of ups and downs, but this time things are getting hotter... even though you might have to wait for naughtier chapters, Uryu is slowly becoming desperate... 😏 ❄ tw: MDNI. This chapter contains smut -soft smut, but mature, kisses, sexual thoughts and erections-. Also, please be aware of a certain little part about Uryu having hidden little old scars. This is just my personal HC that I will eventually develop in the next chapters, but it is super important to warn you, even if subtle, those scars were made by himself. Though if anybody wants to keep on reading and self-harm is triggering you, please let me know. I will not include it. It is not mega important to the plot, just a hc about Uryu and the way he deals with all the pain of his past. ❄ masterlist

“Bring my son immediately to the sixth floor!” he screams at someone through the phone. He stands up and orders you to get ready for surgery…

 “(Name), get ready. OR number 2. Now” 

Your ears buzz. Everything seems to happen, and nothing happens at all at the same time. “Bring my son” those words echo inside your head, making your sweat become cold, colder. You feel like your blood has stopped flowing. What happened to Uryu? What did he do? 

A thousand scenarios happen at the same time in your imagination. Your body moves on its own, following Dr. Ishida to the operating room. 

“What happene-“ you wanna ask, immediately being interrupted by that hospital bed being pushed and rushed to the OR. 

“He needs immediate intervention. I managed to patch him up, but the wound is too deep”

You watch the scene pass right in front of your eyes; Uryu’s hair flowing with the wind, his hand covered in blood up to his wrist, his white shirt as well. 

“(Name), come on!” Uryu screams, waking you up all of a sudden. “The boy is probably 5 or 6. Get ready!” he continues, showing he is safe and sound, and just -amazingly- saving a little kid’s life. 

You nod, with tears in your eyes. You thought the patient was him, but it was just yet another misunderstanding. 

The way both Ishida men work in perfect synchronicity to save the life of a child, the way they, for as long as the surgery lasts, do not fight. However, it is not only them, but you. You work with them, hard, to save the patient. You have everything ready; you are like the gear that keeps two parts working perfectly. 

Sometimes his eyes and yours meet; your arms graze, you talk to each other and it’s also natural, as if nothing had happened in between you and him. Oh, how you wish that would last forever. 

“It was great working with you…” you whisper while you watch the patient being taken out of the OR along with Dr. Ryuken who continues to give directives about the patient. 

“It was. Now, please, I need to change…” Uryu answers, cold as ice. 

You notice his white shirt, underneath the sterile gown, covered in sweat. There is no way he is hot, the OR has always a low temperature and it’s chilling winter outside. Was he that nervous to work with his father for the first time? 

“Are you ok? Are you feeling well?” you dare to ask while taking your own gown off. 

“Yeah… achuu!” Uryu sneezes, and his cheeks become red as apples. 

You giggle and walk away, leaving your used gown on the bio residues trash can. Yet, before you could leave, you turn around right by the exit. 

“You can come to my office if you need something, I can give you meds if you are running a fever. You should rest, though” you tell him, this time as a nurse and not as much as a friend -ex-. Something inside you is growing, and it is not exactly tolerance for his attitude. 

Uryu nods, fixing his glasses and hiding, as always, underneath them and his hair. 

You, annoyed and tired, drag your feet to your office, where you flop to rest for some time.

Irritation builds up as you type which procedures and actions were performed during that emergency surgery; tears have dried and now Uryu’s attitude has started to turn your feelings from pain to anger.

“HA! He was the one betraying us, even though that’s ok. He was the one who hurt me!” you complain, pressing that ever lasting scar on your chest from one of his arrows. “And he was the one to leave with no explanation!!” you continue, swearing under your breath as you focus on your screen. 

“Yeah, I know…” a miserable voice comes from behind your monitor. 

You widen your eyes, sliding on your office chair to the side to discover the reason for your annoyance, standing right there. 

“Do you need something?” you ask, unable to look at his face.

“Uh-yes. I need Acetaminophen, 500mg” he murmurs, clearly asking for something to lower the fever. 

You nod; mortified. In silence, you search for the tablets and give them to him. Your hand again grazes his, this time with no gloves on; just with the touch of your fingers you can tell he is running a high fever. 

“You are burning, Uryu. Go have some rest in room 301, I’ll bring some wet pads. You need to lower that fever, or you will fry your brain” you command; he might be a doctor, but you are the nurse in charge there.  

The last Quincy tries to say no, but you won’t allow him. Your eyes are now fixed on his, scaring him a little. Uryu is not used to your mature you, much less to your nurse you. 

“Believe me I am doing this so that I don’t end up fired. I wouldn’t want something bad happening to my boss’ kid” you state, standing up from your chair. 

You realize you’ve probably gone a little further than expected with your choice of words, but it ends up being effective; Uryu leaves your office to enter the room you assigned him. Though his eyes show a mix of anger and pain, probably he is feeling bad enough not to argue… that, or he enjoys being dominated. 

You admit the last thought made you laugh internally; but immediate scenes of him wearing leather clothes stopped all fun. “Me and my wild imagination” 

You check he doesn’t leave the room and soon prepare the washcloths. He definitely needs that temperature lowered. 

“I’m gonna come in” you let him know, as you open the door with your hip. Your hands full with the needed stuff and your mind, only focused on taking care of him, forgets about a very important rule in medicine; preserve your patient’s privacy and intimacy. 

You find him shirtless, no glasses, hair pulled back, forehead wet. He is now a man, and despite knowing him since kids, never once you’ve seen his whole upper part naked. 

It is impossible for you to avoid getting addicted to his body; pale, thin, prominent collar bones and hipbones. The Quincy star inked on his chest, looking as hot as sad… like the star of a night he wishes to forget. Forever. 

You take a deep breath, immediately looking to the side as you close the door; nobody should see Dr. Ishida’s son in such situation. Anybody but you... 

Uryu gasps just a little, grabbing his glasses and putting them on. He takes his hand to his nape, doing the typical “sexy man” pose. Perhaps he didn’t mean it, but to you it felt as if it was dearly on purpose. 

“Please, lay on the bed” you command, bringing the little bowl with cold water and the pads floating in it. 

You watch him do as you tell, laying down, looking outside the window. The snow falls hypnotically, almost as white as his skin, and now pale lips. He tries to avoid eye contact, allowing you to do your “job”. 

You squeeze one of the wash clothes, filling the silent room with the sound of drops on water. It only gets interrupted by Uryu’s soft gasping as the cold pad touches his neck. 

“Sorry, I know it’s cold…” you lament, going for the next one. 

Uryu’s skin turns bumpy, and his teeth softly chatter. He is definitely feeling the cold, and deep inside, you kind of enjoy this just a little… “have a taste of your own medicine, this might not be as cold as your heart” 

However, you would lie if this were something good to you. On that bed, lies the man you haven’t stopped loving since you can basically remember.

You grab his hand delicately, placing one of the wet pads on his wrist. And then, you do the same with the other one. 

Now, the last two should be placed on his femoral zone. And that includes, of course, taking his pants off. 

“I- Uh… we should add some on your crural zone” you inform, happy to use medical terms as he will understand them. -and specially because you wouldn’t dare to call it “crotch” in front of him-. 

Uryu sighs; he seems uncomfortable… and how wouldn’t he be? He nods, blushed, serious, still looking outside as his thin, delicate fingers undo the button of his pants. 

You help him lower them, seeing on his legs old scars. You could have looked at his white boxer briefs with crosses all over like a pattern, but you can’t help but guide your attention to the red and white marks; what are those? Why is he that scarred? Were those battle injuries? 

His sapphire eyes burn holes into you, letting you know you shouldn’t be so noisy about them. And you quickly stop. 

“Good, that should work. Leave them there for around 15 minutes, then I’ll change-“ 

“I can change them myself” there he goes again, asking you to leave in such a painful yet soft way. 

Your lower lip trembles, your eyes get all blurry. But you won’t cry this time.

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on bothering you again. In fact, I will ask another nurse to come and do it for me. If you need anything press the button and I can assure anybody but me will appear on that door. You can be sure I won’t disgust you with my presence a single minute more” you snap; this time you don’t care about professionalism, you simply see red now. 

Uryu is taken aback; he wasn’t expecting such reaction -though, it was completely justified for him- His classic guilty ashamed façade repeats again, he can’t even look you straight in the eye. Uryu hides, a little, again, underneath his onyx hair. 

“(Name), I didn’t mean to sound rude…” he mutters.

“No? I’ve been taking care of you for the past two stupid days. I’ve been putting up with your ways for way too long. And now, six years later, you dared to appear and keep on hurting me? No explanation, simply acting as if I was some kind of leper, with disgust? You have no idea how much I’ve suffered for you, Ishida Uryu” you continue, letting all the pain out of your chest. 

You pull down the collar of your uniform, exposing the scar he left on your chest. That arrow carved on your chest didn’t really hurt, compared to the way he is treating you right now. 

“See this? It was you! You. Every day I wake up looking at the mirror, seeing the reminder that I had forgiven you for this and still not even once I heard you say, “I’m sorry”. And the worse part of it all, is the way you push me away… I could have understood if you were married. I could have… but you simply decided to ignore me” you continue, not seeing the tears running down his cheeks. 

Maybe, in between your pain and all of the hurtful -yet, true- things you were saying, you didn’t listen to his constant “sorry, sorry, sorry”.  And, enough sorrys were cried, when Uryu finally stood up.

With difficulty and a little bit dizzy due to his fever, Uryu snatches your hand to keep you from going away as you roar all the things you need to say. The cold water on that stainless steel bowl spills all over your uniform, getting you completely wet, turning the white fabrics to become see through. 

“Because I know all of the things I did to you, because I hurt you more than once… that’s why I want you far from me. You don’t understand, I am not deserving of being next to you. I shouldn’t even talk to you; this wasn’t my plan” Uryu finally says, raising his voice. 

You lay there, dripping wet. The same way you cry under the rain, when the tears mix with the drops that fall from the sky, you do now. As much as you want to stop, you simply can’t. 

“I thought- I thought you were gone from Karakura…Please, I beg you... don’t cling to this, to me… please, forget about me. Just- go away, go away from me… if you stay, if you stay you will only suffer” Uryu cries louder, still grabbing you from your wrist with so much strength you might end up with marks.

Even though he is telling you to go away, he is not letting you go.  Once again, Uryu is asking someone he loves to go away, despite knowing deep inside, it is absolutely false. 

“Uryu, I- you-“ you wanna say something, even though you can’t.

“Look at your chest, look at the scar I left there. On your skin, on your body… you don’t-“ he continues, with a trembling voice and now flopping on the bed. He still shakes and cries, and has his hand tightly gripped around your arm. 

You suddenly, and perhaps without even thinking about, rip all the buttons of the upper part of your uniform with your free hand. Your skin, covered in goosebumps, cold and wet, exposes all its extent to his beautiful eyes. 

Uryu stops breathing; his nose, so close to your chest, can almost touch it. Sitting on that hospital bed, he looks and feels small, engulfing all the beauty of your nudity and the pain of his past in one single blow. 

As he slowly lets your hand go, your palm lands on his cheek. A sweet caress, filled with softness and love, to make him look up at you. 

“Uryu, your silence, to me, was the most violent deception” you whisper.  

The Quincy gasps, tears sprouting harder now. Uryu perhaps, finally understood he was hurting you more by pushing you away, than staying by your side.  

As tears run down his blushed cheeks, cooling his burning skin, his hands around your waist to pull you even closer. His pale lips, as hot as the rest of his body, finally fall upon the scar his arrow left. 

A deep connection, of pure intimacy, takes place and the time seems to freeze. You play with his hair and brush it away. Maybe the fever, or the words you screamed, were enough to melt that heart. 

“Can you, this time, for real, forgive me?” he asks, muffled by your chest. Up until now, Uryu hasn’t realized he is almost burying his face into your breasts. Nor did you notice, because this wasn’t about that. 

You swallow. Up until today you never thought you needed to absolve him from any guilt, and yet still you realize it was simply a way to cope with him leaving. With him, for real, betraying you. 

“Uryu…. I-….I forgive you” you state, clear and strong. 

Uryu breathes; his cheek now plastered on your chest, resting perhaps for the very first time in the last six years. 

“Thank you…” “Thank you, Uryu…”

A sudden cold reaches you; it makes you shiver; it pulls you off from your love bubble. Both wet, semi naked, hugging in such intimate way… You swallow dry, his body against yours… 

“I think we should…” you murmur, perhaps with the vague intention of leaving the room.

“No… please, just…” Uryu murmurs back, kissing once again your scar, breathing in the scent of your flesh, getting drunk on the heat of it. He is needy, desperate.

You brush his hair back, moving his head up so that he looks at you again. It is almost sad, the way his eyes look at you like an abandoned puppy. 

“You are still burning, Uryu… you-“ you wanna continue searching for excuses, but you get interrupted by his hand sliding up until your nape. 

With the softest pull, he intends to come closer to your lips. Though, his mouth doesn’t crash with yours just yet. A lingering kiss that’s been due for too long, seems closer, a reality. It almost feels painful to wait a single second more, not to touch the soft surface of each other’s lips. 

Both so slowly getting closer that warm breath caresses your mouth; The more he waits, it seems as if his fever grew stronger. 

“Please…” he begs, Uryu won’t be the one to kiss you. He still feels as if you needed to give him permission for it. 

Your stomach gets filled with butterflies; your scraped knees get a little weak… how to say no; how to tell no to that man that’s imploring for a kiss? 

You can’t control your body either way, as your lips finally land on his. It’s almost instantaneous, a spark that had been asleep for so long. 

Uryu stands up, his naked chest stuck against yours. His free hand pulling your bellies closer as it slides through the small of your back. 

A little gasp escapes in between tongues that have already met in a feral adagio; this is the first time he kisses you as a man, and not anymore like a sweet inexperienced teenager. 

Your hand slides down his back, feeling his skin temperature rising. “He shouldn’t- he should rest…” you repeat in your mind, but you aren’t able to detach from him as he slowly slides down back to the bed and pulls you to sit on his lap. 

Your inner thighs are able to feel the hardness growing underneath you; in fact, it would be impossible not to, as Uryu’s hips buck up on their own, pushing his heat against yours. You tremble, as he gets more and more desperate. 

His lips finally abandon your mouth, only to land on your neck. Uryu seems to be a biter as he first inhales the scent of your flesh just to carve his teeth on it after. 

You whine, a little screech from the pain of the bite. Who would have said Ishida Uryu developed to be nothing but a sweet lover? 

Though, Uryu shouldn’t keep going any further. First, because of his health. Second, because you are currently on shift and third, is this the place where your bodies will meet after so long to love each other? 

“Sto-stop…” you whisper, sweet and lovingly. 

“WHAT? DID I HURT YOU?” he suddenly stops, scared.

You giggle; He is indeed a desperate lover with so much respect for your body. 

“No… but you are sweating, a lot. Your cheeks are red as tomatoes. Your skin is burning, and your brain will literally fry if you don’t stop. I’ve told you this many times already” you scold him, almost sounding like a mother. -thing you ultimate despise doing- 

Uryu squinted his eyes and looked to the side; “I’ll die if it’s because of this…” he murmurs, sounding even a little whimsical. 

“Plus…” you sigh. “Do you think we should do something like this here?” you continue. 

The Quincy man immediately understands; “Sorry…” 

You plant a peck on his forehead, getting off his lap. Of course, the wet spot on his boxer briefs looks delightful; his erection tenting the fabric, even more. His spasming belly, all his skin covered in sweat… 

“I might need to run to my office, this uniform is – I’m almost naked” you comment, trying to avoid looking at him any longer. You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you did. 

You bend over to pick up the bowl of water that fell down your hands. It was supposed to help Uryu cool off, but it only ended up on your uniform. 

“You want me to stop, and you bend that way in front of me. How am I gonna resist that bum?” he cries, and even to him it was a funny appreciation.  

“MY. BUM…?” you turn around, laughing, loudly. It also makes him laugh, and suddenly you were back at that sweet age of seventeen. 

And in between laughter and sneezes, Uryu finally lays back on the bed again. This time you provide him with new cool compresses to manage his high temperature. 

“I need to go back to work, I’ll come check on you as soon as I am free. Ring the bell if something happens, ok?” you tell him before leaving the room, looking both sides the corridor to avoid any people seeing you leave with a ripped uniform and wet to the point of becoming see through. 

You run, with a naughty smirk on your face. It is impossible not to. Your office is just in front, you will be able to change once you get there, fast, easy, and with nobody seeing you. Right? 

“(Name)? what happened to you?” “Dr. Ishida? Uh…”

[to be continued]

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 4

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

This chapter came together super fast, I'm a little shocked! Next on my to do list is to make a masterlist, so that all parts are easily accessible. If time permits, I really want to make a playlist. I just love making playlists!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k+

Rooster finished his song behind the piano, surrounded by his friends who were all singing along. The whole bar burst into applause and cheers.

You clapped slowly, still staring in disbelief. He looked so great, so healthy, so… handsome.

Carly nudged you, snapping you out of your haze, “If you two don’t stop staring at each other and say ‘hello’, I’ll drag his ass over here!”

You shook your head, “I have a rule about seeing patients in the wild, I don’t acknowledge them unless they acknowledge me first.”

“But this former patient is sooooo hot!” Madi swooned.

Sam scanned the people surrounding Rooster at the piano, “And so are his friends…”

You and Bradley locked eyes again.

Hi. He mouthed to you.

Hey. You mouthed back.

A smile spread across his face and he slowly stood up from the piano bench, breezing past his friends, and swaggered towards you and the girls.

“Oh my god, he’s coming!” Sam squealed under her breath.

Carly shushed her, “Shut up and be cool!”

“What is my favorite nurse doing at my favorite bar?” Bradley posted up in front of you and winked.

You shifted your weight, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, “The youngins on the unit bullied me into coming out.”

He looked over at them, “Oh hey, night nurse.”

Carly laughed, “Oh hey, night patient. Staying out of trouble?”

He shrugged, “I mean, I’d fuck around and get hospitalized if my favorite nurse was there to take care of me.”

“Please don’t do that, Bradshaw.” You rolled your eyes.

“I promise I’ll be good if you let me buy you a drink.” He smirked, glancing towards the bar.

Before you could argue, Carly answered for you, “She would love that! Thank you, Lt. Bradshaw.”

You turned and glared at her.

“Wanna lead the way?” Bradley suggested.

You pursed your lips, he was so cute! “Well alright!”

As you and Bradley walked away from the girls, you could feel them silently celebrating behind you.

“So are you chaperoning a field trip?” Bradley chuckled as the two of you stood outside on the deck that faced the beach. The only thing illuminating the dark sky was the moon and its reflection on the water.

You snorted, “Is it that obvious I’m the old lady?”

“Oh no, it’s obvious that those girls look like they just graduated high school.” He explained and looked over at you, “you look like a grown ass woman.”

“Nice save.” You softly punched his arm playfully, an electrical current ignited all throughout your body as soon as you touched him. Woah.

You wondered if Bradley could tell the feelings that just came over you, he was beaming at you. “It’s clear that they love and respect the shit outta you. Especially Carly, the child.”

You sputtered, “Oh my god, I forgot you called her that!”

He chuckled, “I still can’t believe she’s old enough to a be a nurse.”

“I can tell you this now since you’re no longer under her care,” you prefaced, “But she’s like brand new. She’s only been a nurse for like 3 months, she’s fresh off of her orientation. All those girls are.”

”And you’ve adopted them all?” He asked.

You shrugged, “They adopted me, more so. There’s a big culture of ‘nurses eat their young’. Basically meaning that like older nurses are really shitty to new nurses as a way of breaking them in and toughening them up.”

Bradley nodded, “Sounds familiar.”

“I, however, don’t agree with that.” You explained, “I think it instills insecurity with their skills and clinical judgment. It also makes them less likely to ask for help when they’re in over their heads. So I go out of my way to be a resource for these new nurses. And I’ve grown very fond of them in the process.”

He smiled, “Maybe if I had someone like you in the Navy, I’d be a colonel by now.”

“Maybe you could be that for someone else.” You suggested.

“ROOOOOOOOOSTERRRRRR!” Two tall, buff, tipsy men stood at the window calling for their friend.

He looked at them, then looked at you, “I think those idiots are beyond help.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Rooster and Y/N re-entered the bar to join his friends around the pool table.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N.” Bradley introduced her, “She was my nurse in the ICU.”

Phoenix's eyes widened, “Oh! The hot one?”

Y/N choked on your drink then looked up at Bradley, who was red as a lobster.

“Yes, Phoenix…” he sighed, “The best nurse I’ve ever seen do the damn job.”

Hangman sauntered up and held out his hand, “Name’s Hangman. How about you come take care of me, Honey?”

She couldn’t help but audibly gag, “That is the worst pick up line to ever use on a nurse, dude. Instant ick.”

Rooster smirked. She was smart, pretty, and completely saw through Hangman’s bullshit. What a woman.

“Hey, I’m Bob.” Bob greeted her, “Thanks so much for taking care of Rooster.”

“Of course, he was a wonderful patient.” She then looked up at Bradley again, “Why do they call you Rooster?”

“Cuz he’s got a big—“ Payback started to say but Bradley reached over and covered his mouth to shut him up.

“It’s my callsign, what I go by in the air as a pilot.” He explained, “We all have one. They’re given to us during training, usually it starts out as someone clowning you and it just sticks.”

She nodded, “Interesting… you’re more of a Bradley to me though.”

Eventually Carly, Sam, and Madi made their way over to the group of aviators as well. Hangman looked a little too excited to see three hot young things. He was starting to get real close and touchy with Madi.

“How old is she?” Rooster asked Carly.

“Twenty two.” Carly chirped.

He took his head and walked over to the flirty pair mumbling to himself, “Absolutely the fuck not.”

Y/N kind of loved that he was protective over the girls. “Glad he got in the middle of them before I had to.”

“It’s giving Mom and Dad.” Sam giggled.

She rolled your eyes, “It’s giving… you’re reading way too far into this.”

“Y/N, come get your patient!” Madi pouted walking back to the group with Rooster, “He’s a cock block.”

“They don’t call him Rooster for nothing.” Carly held up her drink, pretending to cheers.

“Ooooh, good one.” Phoenix prompted a high-five and Carly gladly accepted.

Y/N scooted in closer to Bradley when he stood beside her. He so desperately wanted to drape his arm around her shoulder, to make her feel as safe as she made him feel in the hospital. But he was… nervous. He didn’t want to scare away the angelic figure that he had been daydreaming about for the past two weeks. 

Somehow, Bradley ended the night with three drunk 22 year olds in the back of his vintage Bronco and Y/N in the front seat. 

“If one of them throws up in your car, I’ll pay for it to be cleaned.” She whispered to him.

He scoffed, “No, need to worry about it. It wouldn’t be the first time these seats have been christened with vomit.”

She looked back at the girls, still with a concerned look on her face as they giggled and slurred.

He placed his hand over hers and a surge of electricity shot through his entire body.

Y/N then looked over at him and gave him a soft smile, “Thank you for staying sober enough to drive.”

Bradley winked, “I was planning on it, wouldn’t have driven myself to the bar if I was planning on having more than a beer or two.”

“I guess DUIs are probably frowned upon in the Navy.” 

He chuckled, “I mean yes, but many seamen straight outta boot camp still get them… it’s a lot of fucking paperwork.”

“Y/N… he said semen!” Sam leaned forward in her seat and giggled, making all three young girls burst into hysterical laughter.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle too, though she tried to hide it. 

Rooster couldn’t help but smile to himself as he turned into the parking lot of the apartment complex that your phone was navigating him to. 

“This is you girls.” Rooster looked back at the silly trio, “You all roommates?”

Carly shook her head, “Noooo, we’re having a sleepover!”

“Ooh, very nice.” He nodded, trying not to laugh at the girls too much as they stumbled out of the truck.

Sam straightened herself up at waved to Bradley from the curb, “Thanks Dad!”

“Thanks Dad!” The other two echoed, making Bradley laugh. 

Y/N shooed them away, “Go to bed! Maybe give each other IVs in the morning if you feel bad.”

The girls stumbled into the building, “Okay Mom!”

She watched them and made sure they were safely inside before turning back to Bradley, “Sorry about them.”

He waved it off, “They’re a trip, I’m happy to be able to help you get them home safely.”

“May I?” She reached for the AUX cord that was hooked up to the updated radio system. It juxtaposed the vintage feel of the rest of the Bronco, but it was a necessity for Bradley to easily jam out.

“Be my guest.” 

“What do you like to listen to?”

He looked over at her and smirked, “is it too ironic for me to say Dad Rock?”

She burst into laughter. Oh god, how Bradley’s heart soared when he heard that beautiful sound. Once she caught her breath, Y/N plugged in her phone. “Have I got the playlist for you!”

The intro to Up Around the Bend by Creedence Clearwater Revival started to play through his speakers.

“Oh hell yeah!” He bobbed his head to the beat and turned up the volume, “I love CCR!”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Bradley drummed his palms against the steering wheel to the beat of And She Was by Talking Heads as he pulled up in front of your apartment. He idled there for a moment before shifting into park.

You sighed… This is so inappropriate. But you desperately wanted to shoot your shot…

He looked over at her, “I just… I can’t believe I saw you again… It doesn’t feel real.”

“Do you wanna come inside?” You blurted out, possibly a little too loud.

He perked up, completely surprised. “Uh yeah. Yeah! I would love to!” He shifted his car into drive and found a guest parking space for the Bronco.

You started to reach for your door handle but Bradley stopped you, “Don’t you dare touch that door.”

You blushed, remembering how he scolded you earlier in the parking lot of the Hard Deck for the same thing.

He got out of the car, walked around to your door, and opened it for you.

“An officer and a gentleman.” You winked at him as you climbed out.

He offered you a hand for assistance, “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

You accepted, placing your hand in his— again that feeling of electricity jolted through you.

He gestured for you to walk ahead of him, “Lead the way.”

You began to ramble as the two of you walked to your building, “So I’m not much of a beer drinker but I do have seltzers, wine, liquor, and all kinds of mixers. Don’t feel like you have to take anything if you don’t want it though. I can also put a pizza in the oven—“

You were interrupted by a large hand on your shoulder, again with the electric feeling. 

“That all sounds wonderful.” Bradley said sweetly, “Please don’t make a fuss over me.”

You sighed, “Sorry, can’t help it. I get nervous.”

“You don’t need to be nervous with me.” 

“So was I correct in hearing that you told the girls to do IVs on each other in the morning?” Bradley questioned polishing off the last sip of his glass of wine.

You promptly refilled his glass and your own, finishing the bottle you opened together. “You are correct.”

“What the fuck?” He was absolutely tipsy now.

“Obviously we don’t do it often,” you explained, “But after a night out, you feel crappy and dehydrated… give yourself a bag of IV fluid and you’re golden for the day. Nurses have actually made businesses out of going to people’s houses and giving them.”

Rooster was so shook by the information he was receiving, “Where do you get the stuff?!”

“I’ve collected some from hospitals over my time working there. As I said, I don’t do it often but… it’s nice to have on hand.” You shrugged.

He smirked, “What are the odds I can get you to give me an IV sometime?”

You laughed, “Bradshaw, I gave you tons of IV fluids two weeks ago!”

“That’s different, I was a patient!” He sipped his wine, “That’s not as fun as getting drunk and having one the next morning.”

You scanned his arms, “I mean… ya do have some great veins.”

He looked down at his arms, “I have never had anyone tell me that before, especially not so sensually.”

You burst out laughing, “Sorry! Good veins are like Nurse Porn. We love them.”

Bradley shook his head, “The more I learn about this profession, the weirder it gets. First you’re telling me about older nurses eating their young; now you’re telling me you all are into vein porn!”

Your laughing continued until your stomach started to hurt. It has been a really long time since you laughed this hard. You looked over and caught him smiling at you, “What?”

“You have a great laugh,” he explained, “I remember the first time I heard it. You were talking to me while I was intubated and drugged up.”

“You remember that?” You asked in disbelief.

He nodded, “How could I forget the first time I felt human in that place?”

You placed your hand over his, this time instead of electricity, there was a wave of calm with your touch. 

He turned his hand so that his palm was up and holding yours, “You made me feel like I could actually get better.”

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[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Halloween, 1978

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: Ye I guess today is just one of those goin through it kinda days. I am excessively sad and i, like 90% sure its just the after affects...effects of my period. Its whatevs

Day 12: Cardiophilia

Eddie stands behind Buck, rubbing his shoulders 

“Come on man, come on you got this”

The crowd around them cheers as Buck shoots the little ping-pong ball into the cup and the other team loses. Eddie shakes Buck and they both cheer along, high-fiving and doing their stupid little dance they’d been doing all night every time they got a shot. 

Eddie’s so distracted (and drunk) that he hardly even notices you walk past, that is until he spins around to grab Buck another egg roll and splashes what’s left of his drink all over your nurse costume, and subsequently your chest. 

“Oh my god!” You shriek and his mouth flies open 

“Oh god! Shit, fuck, shit I’m so sorry I’m-“ 

“Take her to the bathroom upstairs!” Buck shoves him toward the stairs and Eddie grabs your hand, pulling you with him as he profusely apologizes the entire way up. 

He locks the door and rushes to get towels for you, he awkwardly pats your chest before just shoving the towel into your hand. 

You snort and turn toward the sink, to dab some water on the light stain and sigh. It’s difficult to clean it up at this angle… 

“Hey, Doctor?” You ask as you look into the mirror. 

Eddie had decided to be a doctor for Halloween, he’d done a couples costume with Buck who was the patient with a giant blood spatter all over his gown. 

“Yes, Nurse?” He chuckles, shaking his head and you smile 

“Mind if I borrow your lab coat for a while? I think it would be easier to clean this if I took it off” 

“Oh yeah of course” He takes it off while you unzip the front of your dress, he knows he should have looked away, but he couldn’t help himself. You look at him as you let it fall from your shoulders, he gulps as he keeps his eyes laser-focused on yours, no way is he looking down at that lacy bra and… and 

Okay, he was looking. The strings of your panties cling to your hips and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You smirk and turn to run your dress under the water and he shifts uncomfortably, discreetly adjusting his hardening cock. 

“So uh- if you- if you wanted some privacy?” He points at the door and you dry your hands, before slipping on the lab coat 

“No, it’s okay… I think that’s gonna take a minute to dry and I don’t know, I guess I’d be pretty bored alone. That is if you wanna stay” 

“No-no I’m so cool with staying- I’m… fuck am I good with staying”

“Uh huh, I bet” You smile, walking over to him. Your heels click against the tiles with each step you take, you reach out and grab his stethoscope, toying with it 

“This thing really work?” 

He smirks “Yeah of course it does… Why? You think you need a checkup?” 

“I don’t know… I’m feeling a little faint” 

You fan yourself playfully and he takes a step forward, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. He takes the end of it, putting it to your heart. 

“Mmm, I think I know the problem” His lips touch your throat and he can’t help but grin when he hears your heart rate pick up. His hand slides down your side as he kisses your neck and it goes crazy. 

“W-what’s my problem?” You whisper and he chuckles 

“I think your heart is beating too slow… we should seriously do something about that. Could be dangerous” 

“What do you suggest?” You mumble breathily and he looks up at you, nuzzling his nose against yours 

“Maybe a kiss? Just to start things out..” 

You nod slowly and he captures your lips, pushing you back against the wall, keeping the little circular part against your chest. He can hear the way your heart rate skyrockets as he kisses you, your soft moan amplified in his ears. 

“Mmmm taste so good“ He kisses across your jaw, leaving hot kisses in his wake, he feels you grab onto the front of his scrubs as he slots his thigh between your legs. You whimper and he growls as you begin to grind against it. 

“Soundin’ so much better baby girl” He pants in your ear “But you’re still not where I want you…” 

He takes your hand and puts it on the stethoscope to hold it in place before his fingers slip inside your panties. He feels your wetness and grins against your skin. 

“Maybe this will help… you gonna be a good girl and take your medicine?” His fingers find your wet folds and you gasp, immediately rolling your hips against him 

“Mhm” You mutter, your body shuddering and he shakes his head

“You don’t sound very convincing” He moves his fingers away and you whine, your hips chasing after him. He leans down again, his lips attaching to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

“Yes Doctor, I’ll be good and take my medicine, I promise” 

Eddie groans against your neck, his fingers picking up speed as he thrusts them in and out of your tight heat. He can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal coating his fingers as you work your hips on his hand desperately.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need” he encourages you, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing your nipple through the thin lab coat. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Sugar. I can’t wait to bury my cock inside you.”

He captures your lips in another bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to finger fuck you. He can literally hear you getting closer, your body tensing beneath his touch, your heart beating out of your chest. He’d never been harder in his life and he can’t believe listening to you is getting him so worked up. 

“Do it,” You beg, your body shaking under his “Just put it inside me please, I want you to b-bend me over and-“

His pants are down faster than you can even finish the sentence as he twirls you around, pressing you into the wall.

“You want this, baby?”He asks, his voice rough with desire. He positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing you.

“You want me to fill you up?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, thrusting forward and burying himself deep inside your tight heat. You both moan at the sensation, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, starting to move inside you. “So tight, so perfect”

“So yours” You purr as your head falls back against his shoulder. 

Eddie grins, his eyes dark with lust as he watches your face contort with pleasure. He loves seeing you like this, so lost in the moment, so desperate for him.

He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against yours as he pounds into your tight heat. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the small bathroom, mixing with your moans and gasps. Neither of you can even be bothered with wondering if anyone can hear you, the music is loud enough anyway. 

“That’s it, baby” He praises you, his voice strained. “Take it all. You’re doing so good.”

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m going to fill you up so good, sweet girl. You’re gonna feel me for days.”

His hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. He can feel you getting closer, your walls starting to flutter around his cock. 

His other hand comes up, wrapping around your neck and you hold onto his wrist. He can hear your heart pounding in his ears, it matches so perfectly with his he could cum right there. Your hot, breathy gasps, your high-pitched whining, it’s all in his head right now as you completely overwhelm his senses. 

“God Eddie you’re t-too big, too much”

You pant, your cunt fluttering around his cock, taking him deeper as pumps his hips into you. He feels his legs getting weak as you say that, his cheeks flushing pink. 

His grip on your throat tightens slightly as he feels your pussy clench around him. The thought of making you come undone on his cock is driving him wild.

He increases the pace of his thrusts, his fingers rubbing your clit harder and faster. He can feel his orgasm building, that coil so close to snapping, but he holds back, determined to make you come first.

“Cum for me”, His voice was low and sexy. “Let go, baby. I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

He leans down, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you as his. His other hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you deeper onto his cock.

You shatter on his cock, your orgasm flowing through your body all the way to the tips of your fingers. His name spills from your lips over and over again as he keeps pounding into you, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

Eddie feels your body shake and tremble as you come undone beneath him. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. He groans, his hips stuttering as he fights to maintain control.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps, his hand tightening around your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

 He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. He moans into your mouth, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

 You both stay like that for a moment, your bodies intertwined, he can hear your hearts pounding in sync. Finally, Eddie pulls back, his softening cock slipping out of you. He helps to keep you on your feet, holding you close as you both try to catch your breath. 

“We have got to do this more often” You giggle as you take the stethoscope from his ears and put it back around his neck. 

“You’re telling me… that was fucking hot” He nuzzles into your neck and you turn around gingerly, giggling and holding onto him tightly. 

There’s a knock at the door and Eddie groans, walking you both slowly over to the door and cracking it open. 

“Hey I’ve got some club soda for Y/N’s costume… apparently that just gets shit out of everything” 

Buck lets himself in and goes over to the sink, pouring it over your dress to soak. 

“I can’t believe you spilled on her, we’re supposed to be a group costume. Now we don’t have a nur-“ 

He stops in his tracks, noticing your disheveled looks… the way he’s holding onto you… the glossy look in your eyes, and the exceptionally bright blush on Eddie’s cheeks. 

“IN MY BATHROOM?!”