#lace edged nurse uniform

[laurettelarue]

Korra del Rio

not me

[notyetneedcoffee]

Yes, Ma'am

Kinktober - Roll Playing NSFW - Adults only

Summary: You surprise Steve and he's happy to play along

“I’m fine, Honey. I swear.” Steve did his best to smile.

“The doctor said you were supposed to take it easy, and instead your at your desk doing reports.” You frowned.

“This is taking it easy.” He frowned back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Anyone else would still be in intensive care. The least you can do is take the day off.”

“I’m fine, Honey.” He repeated.

You stared for a moment longer. Steve Rogers could be one of the most stubborn men on the planet. Fine. You had another idea.

A while later you stepped into his home office again. “Captain Rogers?”

“Sweethe…” The word trailed off when he looked up to see you standing in the doorway wearing a nurse’s uniform. Not just any nurse's uniform. It was a sexed-up version of a 1940’s Army nurse’s uniform. You’d swept your hair up into victory curls. A lace bra peeked out from under a too-tight, too-short jacket. The skirt was impossibly high, showing off the tops of tan stockings. You posed on high heels, holding clipboard and pen.

“Captain Rogers?” You said again. “I’ve been assigned to take care of you.”

Steve muttered your name. Pink touched his cheeks.

“Captain. No arguments. I have my assignment and I will not take any guff from you.” You frowned, leveling your pen at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” A slow smile spread across his face. “That’s good, Nurse. I don’t think I could manage on my own.”

“Then we better get you to bed.” You set down your clipboard and took his arm, as if to lead an invalid. “Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what needs attention.”

“Hmm.” He stopped beside the bed. Steve stared down at you with hunger. His lip traced over his lower lip as he appeared to consider his response. “I have this ache.”

You gave him a fake, innocent look. “Show me.”

He cupped his growing cock. “Down here.”

“Oh, no. Captain Rogers, that could be serious. Better let me see.” You lowered carefully to your knees. Running your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his sweatpants. You stroked his clothed cock. He moaned. You tsked playfully. “Doesn’t sound good. I need to take a closer look.”

You pulled at his sweatpants, lowering them over his hips. Steve’s cock stood proud before you. He threw his t-shirt aside and watched you while clenching his hands. You touched him, stroking the silky skin over his steel shaft.

“Does it ache here?” You kiss the base of his cock. Steve hummed. “Or here?” You circled the head of his cock with your tongue.

Steve’s hand came up and cupped your jaw but didn’t muss your hair. His hips rocked, urging you to take him deeper.

You could feel the way Steve battled to keep control. It sent a thrill through you to feel his thighs tighten and his fingers hesitate. Normally so willing to manhandle you to where he wanted you, you knew your outfit affected him.

Pulling away from him with a suctioned pop, you gave him a final lick. Steve whined. Actually, whined. You stood, slowing, stroking his length. “Captain, I think I know exactly what you need.”

Steve slowly unbuttoned your top. He traced his fingers over the edge of the lace bra. “You have what can make me feel better?”

“Mm-hmm” You squeezed his cock harder and ran a hand over his broad chest. His eyes nearly closed. “Let me check my medical bag.”

You turned away from him and bent at the waist to reach for the small case on the floor. Steve groaned as he got the full view up your little short skirt. Stockings and no panties. His fingers slipped over your sex, spreading moisture and making you shiver.

“I know I put it here somewhere.” You breathed, excitement building.

Steve watched your hips rock as you shifted your weight. You moaned as his fingers delved into your depths. His voice came out low and rough. “Better be sure you find the right medicine for me.”

“Yes, Captain.” You panted.

“Maybe I should help.”

You felt the head of his cock slide against your entrance.  When had you lost control of this scenario? Steve pushed in, stretching, filling you. You grabbed the edge of the bed to steady yourself, moaning. “Fuck.”

“Yes.” He moved in and out, hands digging into your hips, moving faster. “Just what I need.”

“Steve.”

He pulled you tight to him, arching your back and cupping your breast. “You know, nurse, I think it might be me that has the right medicine for you.”

“Yes, Captain.” You panted.

Steve thrust into you, moaning. He let you fall forward. “Need this?” He moved fast, hard. “Need me to fill you up?”

“Yes, Captain!” Your thighs began to quiver. “Please!” Steve lifted your leg onto the bed, changing your angle, his access. His cock hit deep. Your legs nearly gave way. He held your firm. Moaning and cussing, you felt your body tighten and shake.

“So fucking good,” Steve groaned. “That’s it, babydoll, let go.”

You keened, shaking as the warmth spread and washed over you.

“Oh, yes.” Steve moaned. “That’s it. Yes!” His grip tightened. He pushed deeper and came hard.

As your legs shook and breath slowly returned to normal, Steve stood you upright on your high heels. He reached down and ran his fingers through the mess between your legs. A grin spread across his face.

“Hmm. I think it worked, nurse. I feel so much better.”  

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[missnind]

And just give me one last look. Darling, the hold you took.

Eddie looked at Steve. He nodded at the nurse as she left and went and sat by the bed.

"Hey, Stevie. How you feeling?"

Steve opened his eyes slowly.

"Like death." He laughed but it came out more of a wheeze.

Eddie smiled softly at him.

"None of that talk here, sailor."

Steve laughed again.

"It's been years, Eds. You ever gonna let it go?"

"Let it go? That uniform is why I married you, Mr Munson."

"Worth the embarrassment then." Steve replied.

Eddie sat looking at his husband. His luscious hair was now a wispy white crown upon his head.

The moles that smattered his skin now had the company of liver spots.

Steve breathed slowly.

"Eddie, what day is it?"

"It's Friday, my love. The kids are coming over to see you today, remember?"

"Oh, yes. I remember. I hope it isn't too much though."

The tiredness in Steve's voice hit Eddie's heart like a gunshot.

He took Steve's frail hand in his own.

"It won't be, darling. I promise. They just wanted to pop on by whilst they were passing."

Steve smiled and closed his eyes.

"I'll just have a rest til then."

Eddie watched Steve sleep. The soft rise and fall of his chest and the rasp of his breathing. He blinked back tears.

"No time for that, Edward." He scolded himself.

He had no idea how long he spent watching Steve but a voice in the hall stirred him from his thoughts.

"Eds? Steve?" The voice called.

"Dad, are uncle Eddie and uncle Steve even here?" Another asked quietly.

"In the living room, Dusty." Eddie called back.

Steve stirred and began to open his eyes.

"Dustin? Is he here?"

"Hey, Steve." A familiar voice said. "I'm here. And Suzie. And Evelyn."

"Hey, uncle Steve." The young teen spoke. "Uncle Eddie." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Evie, my special girl. Come here." Steve beckoned her to his side.

Evelyn sat carefully in the edge of the bed.

"How's school?" Steve asked.

"Good. Real good. Dad's been helping me with my physics. Auntie Nance is helping with English." She answered.

"Eds, they set up the next gen of Hellfire at her school." Dustin said excitedly.

Eddie laughed.

"About time! Only been playing it her whole life!"

Suzie looked at Eddie and nodded to the next room. Eddie nodded back.

"Stevie," he said, squeezing Steve's hand. "I'm just going to show Suzie the new flowers we planted."

He stood up and made his way to the door, looking back at Evelyn and Dustin laughing and joking with Steve.

"How's he doing, Eddie?" Suzie asked, face laced with concern.

Eddie took a deep breath to calm himself as his eyes started to tear up.

"Good and bad days, y'know? Nurse left about an hour ago. I'm still doing what I can for him but I'm no spring chicken now either." He answered quietly.

"Eddie, if you need anything... please just ask? You know Dusty and I think of you as family. We will help wherever we can."

"I know. I know you will. Listen, I have a letter for each of you. Information about... you know. Just... read them when the time comes, OK?

Suzie's eyes filled and she nodded as he reached out to pull her into a hug.

"Love you, Suzie Q."

"Love you, Eddie."

They shared the moment when Evelyn came into the room.

"Mom, dad says that uncle Steve should rest now. But they're having a talk so I got sent in here. Hey, uncle Eds, did mom tell you that the DM is leaving and they're looking at yours truely to replace them?"

Eddie smiled widely, dimples showing.

"Evie! That's great news! Your dad has a lot of my old campaign notes from my time as DM. You will be absolutely amazing. Evelyn Henderson, you keep being the amazing human you are, OK?"

Evie looked at Eddie and nodded thoughtfully.

"Can we see you again soon?" She asked.

Eddie clocked the look Suzie sent her daughter and stifled a chuckle.

"Hopefully."

They all went back into the living room and Eddie took his place right next to Steve's bed, hands together.

"Well," Dustin began. "We best be making a move. I think the Sinclair's are on their way and we don't want to overcrowd you."

He leant over Steve and kissed his Forehead.

"See you soon, Steve." Dustin's voice caught in his throat.

"Later, Henderson." Steve replied quietly.

As they left, Eddie lifted Steve's hand to his lips.

"You enjoy that, Stevie?"

Steve nodded slowly.

"It was nice. Evie is so like her father."

Eddie laughed in agreement.

"Without the ego though."

Steve laughed. It was a proper laugh, not the raspy ones of late.

"I missed that sound, big boy." Eddie replied.

"Me too." Steve smiled.

"Where are my two favourite idiots at?" A voice called.

Steve relaxed at the sound.

"In the living room, Max." Eddie responded.

A flash of firey red waves entered the room, followed by Lucas and Max.

"Uncle Eddie!" The child called, excitedly.

"June bug!" Eddie replied as the firey mane climbed into his lap.

"Be careful, June!" Lucas admonished as June climbed herself onto the bed.

"Uncle Steeb!" She exclaimed as she wrapped her small frame around his side.

"Hey, Junie." Steve replied as he lifted his arm slowly to hold her.

"I missed you so much!" She said as she pushed the red curls out of her face.

The red curls hid a face full of freckles. The kid had killer dimples and Eddie couldn't help but smile around her. Her energy was contagious.

"Junie, you stay here with uncle Steeb and tell him about the killer park we found on holiday, k?" Max said as she headed into the Kitchen with Lucas and Eddie.

"How long?" She asked, arms folded across her chest. To anyone else, this would seem aggressive. Eddie just saw the scared middleschooler he first met.

Eddie held his hands up in defeat.

"We don't know, Max."

"You should have told us sooner, man." Lucas said, eyes sad.

"I couldn't. Steve didnt-"

"Steve shouldn't get to choose on that. We could have had more time."

"I know. I'm sorry. But Stevie... he wanted you to live your lives. He wanted you to enjoy your time with June bug."

Lucas embraced Eddie and Eddie stifled a sob as the tears threatening to fall overtook him. Lucas held him as he let himself feel for a while. The enormity of the situation.

Max joined in and they huddled sobbing until they heard a little voice from the other room.

"Uncle Eddie! Mom! Uncle Steeb wants a drink!"

"Coming, June Bug!" Eddie call back, wiping his eyes and heading back in.

He poured some water into Steve's cup and helped him drink it.

"Uncle Steeb, I have a cup like that too!" June clapped her hands. "We are twins!"

"Don't let Auntie Robs hear that, Junie." Steve responded. "She might think you've replaced her."

June giggled with glee.

"Junie, we have some errands to run, shall we come see uncle Steeb and uncle Eddie another day?"

June's lower lip wobbled and she clung to Steve.

"I don't wanna go, mommy."

Eddie slid her into his lap gently.

He whispered loudly in her ear.

"June bug, you said you'd fetch the secret ingredients for the potion."

June's eyes grew wide.

"Dad, I need to go to the potion shop!"

Lucas smiled at his daughter and lifted her into his arms.

"Ok, kiddo. Let's go do that then. Say goodbye."

"Bye, uncle Steeb!" She blew a kiss and Steve caught it. "Bye, uncle Eddie!"

"Cya, Junie." Steve said as they left.

He looked at Eddie.

"Eds, I'm tired. Nap?"

"Course, baby." Eddie said as he plumped the pillow and helped Him lie down.

Steve drifted off into a slumber and Eddie messaged Nancy.

/Nance, Steve having a nap. Hold off an hour?/

A reply pinged through.

/Let my dingus get his rest. C U in 1hr. Also, we have Arg, Jon and Mike./

Eddie smiled.

/Cool. 1 hr./

Steve slept peacefully as Eddie watched him.

Memories coming unbidden to him of their many adventures.

The door sounded and he heard Mike call down the hall.

"Eddie?"

"In here." He called back, softly.

Mike entered the room, slowing as he saw Steve still sleeping.

"It's ok, man. He's just... it takes a lot outta him, you know?"

"I have a surprise for you both. He couldn't come with me coz of work but..."

Mike whipped out his tablet and Will's smiling face was on the screen.

"Hey, guys!" Will said from the screen.

"Will! Hold on, let me wake Steve."

He gently roused Steve.

"Stevie, honey, Will is on the line with Mike and wanted to talk to you." Eddie said. He helped Steve sit up.

"Will! How wonderful to see you!" Steve smiled widely.

"I'll just let you two have a catch up whilst I go have a chat with Eddie." Mike said, propping the tablet up on the table.

He left the room with Eddie.

"He looks so... old." Mike blurted out.

Eddie nodded. He was used to Mike's bluntness after all these years.

"We both are, Mike. Stevie just got ill and-"

An arm surprised him by embracing him.

"I'm sorry, man." Mike said quietly.

Eddie just nodded. "Me too."

The door went again and Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy and Robin bustled in.

"He's in there." Eddie gestured. "Talking to Will."

"We'll go see him briefly, man." Jon replied. "Don't wanna..."

Eddie nodded.

"No problem."

As the men went to see Steve, the girls came into the kitchen with arms outreached.

Eddie felt the damn break as he saw Robin's drawn face and Nancy's sad eyes.

The tears came thick and fast and the girls followed suit. They just held each other.

Mike went and joined the men and left Eddie with his best friends.

"Eds, we are so so sorry." Nancy said as she smoothed his hair.

"I can't-" Robin's voice cracked as she tried to explain her feelings. "I'm sorry."

They held onto each other once more.

Jon, Argyle and Mike left the room Steve was in as one.

"My man," Argyle began. His long black hair now a vivid white. "Steve is asking for you."

Jon looked quickly at Eddie and he recognised the tears in his eyes.

"We're gonna go now. I can't... won't..." Jon Fumbled over his words.

Eddie nodded and waved them off as he walked back to his husband.

"Hey, Stevie. Did you want me?" Eddie asked, gently.

"Eds," Steve slurred a little. "Missed you."

"Missed you too, my sunbeam. I was actually about to bring you a surprise!"

"Surprise?" Steve managed to say as the exhaustion settled in again.

"Yup. C'mon in, ladies."

"Dingus?" Robin asked as she slowly moved into the room.

"Robs!" Steve breathed loudly. "You came."

"Course I came, Steve. Where else would I rather be? And I came prepared with this!" She held aloft their fave DVD. "Room for a little one in there?"

"Always" Steve replied as Robin climbed up next to him on the bed.

"Hey, Steve." Nancy greeted him as she pulled a chair up by Eddie's. "Just like the good old days here."

"Without the weed," came Steve's bittersweet reply.

"Ah, bet they got you on some good drugs now though, Steve." Nancy smiled. Robin's hand edged towards hers, seeking reassurance as she snuggled up with Steve.

Eddie got up to pop the film on and they all started to watch it.

Robin and Steve used their Wondertwin powers to communicate - Nancy and Eddie always confused how they did it.

Eddie's mind drifted to their younger years and many a night spent just like this. It seemed only 5 minutes ago. Nancy glanced at him and gave him a reassuring look.

Towards the end of the film, Steve was out for the count and Robin alongside him.

Nancy was half asleep with her head on the bed and Eddie nudged her gently.

"Nance? Nance, take Robs up to the spare room. It'll be more comfortable. Me and Steve will be right here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Gotta be near him for him meds and he doesn't like me going far lately." Eddie shrugged. "I can't sleep without him after all these years."

Nancy began to wake Robin to move her upstairs.

"I know just what you mean"

Eddie's heart swelled as he saw the love between the two women.

"Sweet dreams, Steve." Robin murmured as she kissed his cheek. "Night, Eds."

She let herself be guided out the room and up the stairs by Nancy.

Steve stirred and opened his eyes.

"Just us, Eds?" He asked quietly.

"Just us, Stevie." He replied.

"Will you come read to me?"

"What do you want me to read, baby?"

"The Hobbit. I love you, Eddie."

"You always did enjoy my Hobbit voices." Eddie chuckled. "I love you too, Stevie."

He grabbed the book and got Steve snuggled with his head on his chest.

"In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort..."

Eddie read on and lost track of time. All that mattered was his love was in his arms and they were together.

Eventually, he came to a stop as exhaustion began to take hold.

"Stevie, I just need to-" He paused and panic seized his heart. "Steve? Baby?"

The body next to him was unresponsive. He shook him. He checked his breath. It was going through the motions.

Steve was gone.

"Oh, baby, no." The tears flowed freely as Eddie held his husband tightly. "Please no. I needed more time. We needed more time."

Eddie sobbed and sobbed. He knew he should alert the girls but he was selfish. He wanted his boy all to himself.

"I hope you know how loved you were, Stevie. By all of us. Til the very end. You will always be mine and I yours."

He cried until he had no tears left to cry.

***

"Let's go see if they're up yet." Nancy suggested as her and Robin descended the stairs. She headed in the kitchen and heard a soul wrenching scream from her wife.

"Robin!" Nancy flew into the living room to where her wife was inconsolable. "Robin, calm. Shhh. Shhh, let me see."

Nancy looked at the bed.

There lay Eddie Munson, Steve wrapped in his arms. There were no movement from either of them. Nancy had seen her share of bodies in her journalism career.

She led Robin into the kitchen and sat her down.

"They're both gone. They can't be." Robin sobbed.

"I guess they couldn't live without each other, Robs." Nancy said, softly. "I need you to stay right here whilst I ring the paramedics, OK?"

"Nancy, they're d... they're de..."

"I know, honey. I know. Shhhh." Nancy held her as she rubbed her back.

She remembered the letter addressed to her on the side. With heartache, she opened it.

As expected, it contained all the arrangements and people to contact upon Steve's death.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator began.

"We have two deceased elderly males here. One is under the care of the local hospice. The other is his husband. No known health conditions."

"An ambulance is on the way, ma'am."

Nancy took Robin with her outside to wait.

"Fly high, boys." She whispered to the sky with a gentle kiss.

[josouhenshin]

while I'm replaying the demo portion of the game to see if I can finesse it so the girls get harassed less, here's some supplementals: graphics from the trans 2 site's quiz thing. ideally these help with figuring out how to access those characters' routes & good endings.

as usual I can't really offer complete or especially accurate translations but I think the gist of these is... under the break

top: your suggested coordination under the portraits: good compatibility character

from top left to bottom right

tachibana mizuki

today's vibe is "sporty casual!" simple clothes that don't leave out sex appeal is a great way to coordinate. try getting the most from denim and sneakers!

misaki sumino

today, try going for erotic-cute appeal! maintain girlish vibes while experiencing beauty in the way only an adult woman can with translucent camisoles and colorful fishnets!

hirosawa yuu

todays theme is: romantic maiden! lace, frills, pin tuck... incorporate taste that makes you think "girl." gentle and sweet, express the purity of a maiden's heart.

asakura jin

for today, let's be a cute little seductress ☆ don't just be cutesy, try incorporating a premeditated sexiness too. be a little adventurous, with a miniskirt you might just tempt someone!

minami kasumi

for today, go with sweet and casual! with orthodox items, achieving a cute balance is the way to go. these are the clothes everyone is anticipating, so show off your fashion sense. keep your hands off!

shiboura minato

today, dress like your womanhood is a weapon and attack! create a strong bodyline and show a glimpse of cleavage. and of course, use your makeup wisely as well. effectively show off the appeal of bare skin, and speak with what you've naturally got. do your best!

shiraki miho

today, let's be honest about what you like! you've always been longing for them, those costumes... sailor uniforms, nurse outfits, gothic lolita dresses, and so on. whatever the case, try dressing cute to your heart's content!

kasuga rei

today, aim for "cool young lady" (cool oneesan)! when you combine pretty and sexy clothes with harder edged items, the result will be spicy and effective. employ a strong posture without forgetting the feminine. you just gotta pair your clothes with carefree gestures!

[mercurygray]

throwing another one into the ring — secondhand for Irene and Shifty bc I miss them oh so terribly

Who wants an AU? Me! I do!

The adage for this wedding, it seemed, was going to be everything borrowed, and something blue.

But just how else was one supposed to do it, when the groom was on occupation duty and the bride had been living out of a hospital bed for the last twelve months?

The flowers were wild, gathered that day by her friends and wrapped in one of Joan's good handkerchiefs and a blue ribbon that Ruth had taken off a shirt. The ring - secondhand, of course - had been purchased (he said) by Floyd Talbert, by ways and means that were perhaps better left unexplored. The dress came with Irene from England, a heavy parcel that sat on her lap for the whole journey, her hands protective around the twine -a loan from one of the nurses at the hospital, who said there wasn't any way she'd let Irene get married in a uniform.

"Well? What does it look like?" Maggie asked, too caught up in it all to realize it was the wrong question until Niamh hissed at her. "Will it match your shoes?"

Irene stared straight ahead, her fingers working at the package's twine. "It's…smooth. It has cap sleeves with lace edges, and celluloid buttons. I…I didn't think to ask her about the color."

She would never get back the vision in either eye. The doctors said the fragment had severed the optic nerve and the blood loss had been too terrible to save it. "Well, that's all right," Shifty'd said with one of his implacable smiles, when he'd gone to Colonel Sink to ask for permission. "Could have been worse than that. Anyway, she knew what I looked like before and I ain't changed all that much. And it seems I've got eyes good enough for the both of us, when it comes down to it."

Bob Sink certainly wasn't a romantic, but he also wasn't going to argue with the simple logic of that.

The shoes she'd brought didn't match, as it happened - they borrowed some from Marj's friend Frankie, black pumps with a bit of a heel that would look nicer in the photographs, and slipped the silver sixpence in for luck. No one who saw the pictures later would know the bride was blind - she was just another woman on her wedding day, smiling through closed eyes while her husband whispered in her ear that she looked lovely.

(Shifty didn't need to go home so badly, after that - points or no points, he had everything he wanted right here.)

[yourgirlsarchived]

These obviously vary by muse but I'm never finishing that chart in the info directory SO have a general overview.

Bold-Italics indicates a 'favorite' Strikes indicate never ever in a million years with someone else's bits unchanged is 'eh' Italics indicates they're into it Bold indicates they're really into it * indicates they can be negotiated into it

24/7 Lifestyle Abduction Play Accountability Power Exchange Adult Nursing ( - age play) Adult Nursing (age play) After Care Age play Anal (play, training, fingering, sex) Analingus* Anonymous Encounters* Arm Binders Asphyxiaphilia Play {Breath play alone or with a partner} Auralism (Arousal via accent/music) Baby Boy/Baby Girl role/nickname Bare bottom spanking Bare handed spanking Beastiality [ non-sentient unable to consent animals ] Bareback Begging Bimboification* Biting Blind Folds Blood play Blushing Body Modification Body Worship Bondage [ non-rope ] Brats* Branding* Breast Bondage Breast/Nipple play Breeding Bruises Candle Wax Caning Cervix play* Chastity Choking Clamps ( clothes pins, clover ) Clothed Dom Naked Sub Cock Warming Collars Consensual Non-Consent Consensual Infidelity* Control (retaining) Control ( lack of ) Corsetry ( training/cinching) Covert Bondage Creampie Cuddling Cum Cunnilingus Dacryphilia (crying) Daddy/Little (no age play) Daddy/Little (age play) Daddy Status/Title Damsel in distress Deep Throating Defilement Degredation Dollification Domestic discipline/service* Domination (being dominated) Domination (being the Dom) Double Penetration Dumbification Edge play Electrical play Enforced Bedtime* Erotic Literature Erotic Photography Exhibitionism Eye Contact ( restrictions/rules) Face fucking Face slapping Face sitting Fear play Female Ejaculation Femdom F/F/F Threesomes Figging Fingering Fishnets Fisting* Flogging FMF threesomes Fucking machines Gags Genital Piercings* Hair Bondage Handcuffs High heels Human furniture Humiliation (mild) Humiliation (intense)* Humiliation (public) Humiliation (private) Impact Play Impregnation Fantasy Impregnation in Practice Inspection Infidelity Kneeling Lace Lactation Large Object Insertions Lingerie Male Authority Male Submission Manhandling Masturbation (for show) Medical Play Mental Bondage M/F/M Threesomes M/M/M Threesomes Military Mommy/Little (no age play) Mommy/Little (age play) Mommy Status/Title Monogamy Morning sex Multiple orgasms Mutual Masturbation Needle play* Nudity Obedience Training Objectification Older Man/Younger Woman Older Man/Younger Man Older Woman/ Younger Woman Older Woman/Younger Man Omegaverse (play) Omegaverse (universe) Oral Sex Orgasm Control Orgasm Denial Over the Knee Spanking Overstimulation Outdoor Bondage Outdoor Sex Ownership Tattoos Paddling Panties Pantyhose/Stockings Pegging Pet play Play Punishment Polyamory Power Exchange (mild) Power Exchange (total) Pregnancy Primal/Prey dynamic Prostate Massage/Milking Protocol Public PlayPunishment Pursuit, Take-Down/Capture Pumping (pussy/clit/cock/breasts)* Religious Play* Remote play ( online, sexting, etc)* Restrictive clothing Role Play Rough Sex Sadomasochism Scarification* Scent Seduction Self-Bondage* Sensation Play Sensory Dep Sensual Domination/Play Service submission Shibari Submissive Bells/Jewelry Slut/Whore Nickname Sounding Speech restriction spitting spreader bars* strap-ons* suspension bondage swallowing Tearing off Clothing Tease & Denial Taboo roles Toys Transformation Triple Penetration Uniform Vaginal stretching Vibrators Violence Voyeurism Waste Fluid Whipping* Wrestling

[major-mads]

Chapter 11: The Wire

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: enjoy!!💕🫡

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 4.4k

October 1, 1943: Sagan, Germany:

Two days.

Two days of squalor, of the constant smell of human excrement, of pure hell. They’d stopped a few times to pick up other prisoners, prolonging the journey deeper into Germany. When the train car door finally slid open, its occupants shielded their eyes as the bright morning light shone into the car. Frank, Hope, and Ruth remained in the corner, unable to stand when the harsh commands to do so echoed through the air.

“Up!”

The airmen did their best to follow the order, but their weakened bodies slowed their movements, angering the Germans who began roughly pulling them from the train. Once the dozens of legs surrounding them stepped toward the exit, Hope clambered to her feet, her legs shaking as she helped pull Ruth up. They shared an anxious glance while Frank grabbed their jacket sleeves and led the trio toward the door behind the other POWs.

“Stay close,” he stressed, looking to each of them for confirmation. “We’re not gonna get split up this time, alright?”

It took their eyes a few moments to adjust to the blinding light of the sun they hadn’t seen in a few days as they jumped down from the train, mud squelching beneath their boots. Ruth’s eyes scanned their surroundings, noticing the scraggly pine forest with a dirt path in the distance. She jumped in surprise when the car door behind her slammed shut.

The guard at the front of the group motioned toward the path with a yell. “Walk! Now!” 

Ruth’s eyes widened in panic as they started walking. “Do you think they’re gonna kill us?”

“No,” Hope replied quietly, offering her friend a forced smile. She honestly didn’t know what the Krauts had planned for them but she wasn’t about to give Ruth something more to worry about. “They wouldn’t transport us this far just to kill us.”

Though Ruth nodded in tentative agreement, Hope’s own doubts lingered, a silent weight pressing down upon her. The uncertainty of their fate was almost unbearable, each step forward carrying them deeper into the unknown. 

Where were they going? 

How long would they be there?

Would they ever see their loved ones again?

They could feel the filth clinging to their bodies with each step down the path. The mud, sweat, blood, and disgusting muck from the train car coated their clothes. It was far worse than any conditions they had experienced as nurses. The women prayed for a shower or just somewhere they could clean themselves of the grime painting their skin. After almost two weeks, the pain in Ruth’s arm dulled into a throb with every movement, and thankfully, Frank’s ribs were much the same. Hope’s bruises were beginning to fade and the deep gash above her eye had slowly closed.

The path through the forest stretched on for about a half-mile before they reached the edge of the treeline. As they emerged from the forest, the sight before them stole their breath away. A vast clearing spread before them, dominated by a sprawling complex of buildings, huts, and sheds. The entire area was encircled by a pair of menacing barbed-wire fences, their twisted coils glinting ominously in the sunlight. Along the perimeter, wooden guard towers loomed tall, manned by German soldiers armed to the teeth with rifles, machine guns, and searchlights.

Frank’s jaw clenched as he took in the formidable sight, his mind racing with grim possibilities. “Looks like our new home,” he remarked, his tone laced with bitterness. “Real cozy.

Hope’s hand found Ruth’s, squeezing it tightly as their group approached the large main gate. Hope opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud siren and the gate creaking open. As they walked through the gates and beyond the perimeter of barbed wire, prisoners flocked to the sides of the walkway, scanning the new arrivals for any familiar faces. They wore frayed and mismatched uniforms, many of them hanging loosely on the men’s slender frames. Some called out to friends they recognized, their excited laughter lifting the atmosphere just slightly. Others murmured in disbelief when they caught sight of the women, their expressions filled with shock and pity. 

“Can you believe it? Women here…” one muttered from where he leaned against the wire.

“Poor things,” the man beside him replied sadly. “Leave it to the Germans to make women POWs. I wonder what unit they’re with.”

Among the pitied glances were men whose eyes lingered on Hope and Ruth with a disturbing intensity. It was clear that some hadn’t seen women in years, and their unsettling stares sent a chill down the girls’ spines. Frank shot a warning glare at anyone who dared stare too long, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he trailed closely behind them. 

“Welcome to Stalag Luft III, ladies! This place is going to eat you alive.”

Ruth’s eyes followed the voice to a man ahead of them, his sunken face bearing a smirk. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and red sores sat along the corners of his lips. The poor man looked terrible, and the fear she’d been so desperately trying to push down gripped her heart tightly. She looked away quickly, but the damage was done, the image was burned into her mind.

Was that her future? To end up like him?

Frank’s voice behind them cut through the buzz of the crowd. “Ignore him,” he said, sparing the man a pointed glance. “He’s just a bitter old timer who’s been here too long.”

Hope nodded in agreement, her grip on Ruth’s hand tightening slightly as they continued past the wire, further into the camp. They were led into one of the buildings and lined up before being searched for any items considered contraband. Thankfully, their Luftwaffe searchers were more respectful than the soldiers who found them after the crash, patting them down without allowing their hands to linger.

Once the search was complete, they were fingerprinted and photographed, reminding the trio of their arrival at Dulag Luft. Thinking back on that day, Hope couldn’t help but wonder where Bob Wolff ended up. He was the only piece of home they had… the only tie to the small corner of East Anglia the women held so dearly to their hearts. The thought was pushed from her mind when a neatly folded pile of two thin blankets, a rough mattress cover, and a straw-filled pillow was thrust toward her. Hope’s heart sank at the sight of the pitiful bedding, knowing it would offer little comfort in the cold nights ahead.

In line before her, Ruth blinked away the tears filling her eyes as she was given a small package filled with eating utensils and toiletries. She clutched the scratchy towel close to her chest, struggling to hold it all with one hand. At the final stop, a man held out her new “dog tags,” her prisoner of war number stamped into the shiny metal. Ruth rearranged the items in her hands and took them from the soldier, lining back up along the wall.

2981, the tag read. 

With a shaky sigh, she glanced over at Hope who took hers and joined the blonde against the wall. Frank soon made his way over to them, and before they knew it, their group of about 30 Americans was led back through the camp to a gate leading into one of the many compounds on site. Hope and Ruth’s eyes scanned the large area, taking in the dozens of men walking around, some returning to their blocks after swarming the wire a few minutes before.

All eyes flew to the gate behind them as it shut, sealing them into the compound for the foreseeable future. Despite the open area before them, Ruth felt the reality of their situation wash over her like a frigid ocean wave. Her panic set in. The thought of being confined to this one place for months, years, decades, however long it took for the war to end, was unbearable. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart racing as a sense of claustrophobia overwhelmed her. The barbed wire surrounding her seemed to close in on her, and she fought the urge to run, to try and escape the suffocating camp.

Sensing her distress, Hope immediately gave her things to Frank and reached out to grab her shoulders, reassuringly squeezing them. “Rue, it’s okay,” she said softly, her voice steady and calming. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Frank stepped closer to them. “Take deep breaths, Ruth. In…and out.”

She tried to calm herself, Frank’s words reminding her of John’s that day on the tarmac. Ruth could almost feel his beating heart beneath her hand as she took deep breaths. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and the panic passed. Frank and Hope sent each other a relieved glance, thankful the anxiety strike didn’t progress into a full-fledged attack. It wasn’t the first panic Ruth had around the pair, and Hope was surprised she hadn’t had one since they went down. In her eyes, it was long overdue.

“Welcome to the lovely South Compound,” a commanding voice called out to the group. “I’m Colonel Goodrich, and I’ll be your Commanding Officer during your stay here.”

Goodrich was a tall man with dark, curly hair. He stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke. The colonel’s sharp gaze swept over the faces of the men before him, assessing their conditions. But it was when his eyes landed on Ruth and Hope that his expression shifted, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his features. He hesitated momentarily before gesturing to the shorter man beside him. 

“This is Major Dodson. He’s going to assign you to blocks.”

Dodson stepped forward and began to lead the group toward the dozens of buildings across the clearing. The trio started to follow but froze when Goodrich’s voice filled the air.

“You three. Hold on a moment.”

The rest of the group murmured among themselves as they followed Dodson to get their bunking assignments, leaving Hope, Frank, and Ruth standing alone before the Colonel. He approached them with his hands in his pockets, his demeanor serious but not unkind.

“I apologize for singling you out, but we’ve never had women here. I thought maybe it was one thing the Germans wouldn’t do, but here we are…Do you need medical attention?”

Hope exchanged a quick glance with Ruth and Frank before replying, “No, sir. We’re alright, just a bit banged up from the crash.”

Colonel Goodrich nodded, his gaze lingering on the blood and cuts marring Ruth’s face and the grimy appearance of all three of them. “I see. What outfit are you with?”

“806th MAETS,” Frank replied.

“Ahh, so you’re flight nurses, I’m guessing.”

Hope stuck out her hand. “Yes, sir. First Lieutenant Hope Armstrong,” she gestured to herself. “This is my counterpart Second Lieutenant Ruth Morgan, and our pilot Captain Frank Martin.”

Goodrich shook each of their hands and offered the women a kind smile. “I hate you two are stuck here, but I’ll do what I can to help you out. I imagine you’d all like to clean up a bit. Major Dodson can arrange private showers for you, Lieutenants. It’s cold and might not be the Ritz, but it’s better than nothing.”

The thought of showers, of getting clean perked Ruth up, and she nodded once at the man. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Goodrich glanced at his watch before taking a breath and walking away, motioning for them to follow. “I’ll take you to your assigned block. This compound has only been open a few weeks, so there’s a lot of empty rooms.“

The air inside the block was musty, but it felt like a sanctuary compared to the chaos and constant vigilance they’d endured the past few weeks. The Colonel stopped before a door and turned to face them.

“This building is relatively quiet,” he explained, looking down the long hallway at the few men entering their room further down. “You’ll have this room to yourselves. It’ll give you a little bit of privacy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Colonel Goodrich nodded, and Hope could tell he wished he could do more for them, but this was the best he could do. ”Dodson will be back soon to take you to the showers. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”

With that, he turned and left them standing in front of the door to their room, staring at the wood blankly. Frank took a deep breath and opened the door. The space was dimly lit by a small window, casting long shadows across the room. Triple-decker bunk beds lined the walls, each one with a thin straw mattress that looked as disgusting as the ones in their Dulag Luft cells. A single table stood in the middle of the room.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Frank remarked, dropping his handful of things to the table with a thud.

Hope nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on the bunk beds. “At least we have a place to rest.”

Ruth was the first to choose a bunk, opting for the lower bunk farthest from the door, and Hope chose the one beside her. Frank decided on the bunk above Hope. They got settled, putting the thin sheets and blankets on their beds. With a weary sigh, Ruth sank onto her finished bed and closed her eyes. It didn’t feel the greatest, but it was the most comfortable she’d been in weeks, and exhaustion crept up on her as she took a deep breath.

“That man,” she whispered, blinking away tears that stung her eyes, “The one at the gate…”

“What about him?”

“His eyes…they looked so hollow, so hopeless. I-I don’t want to end up like that.”

Hope sat on the edge of Ruth’s bed, placing a hand on her arm. “Hey, you won’t. You’ve got me. And you’ve got Frank. We’re not going anywhere.”

As Hope stared into her friend’s glistening eyes, she hoped the woman couldn’t see through her. That she couldn’t see the terror that possessed her every thought, every moment, every dream since the door of her cell slammed shut at Dulag Luft. It was no secret that they were at the mercy of their captors who could do anything they wanted, and Hope feared it was only a matter of time until the Germans took advantage of it. 

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, through the thin walls, and Hope’s hear skipped a beat. She could see it now: a German shoving open the door, dragging her and Ruth out by their hair to do unspeakable things to them. But when three quiet knocks filled the air, she furrowed her brows. 

Germans wouldn’t knock.

The women watched with bated breath as Frank slowly approached the door, shooting them a warning glance that seemed to say, ‘get ready.’ Before he opened it, the visitor spoke on the other side, their voice muffled through the wood.

“It’s Major Dodson. I’ve arranged some showers for y’all.”

Hope let out a soft exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing as Frank shook his head and opened the door. Quickly blinking her eyes, Ruth tried to clear any sign of tears from her face before he could see. Dodson stepped inside, smiling kindly at the two women sitting on the bed. If he noticed the blonde’s red-rimmed eyes, he didn’t comment on it.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenants.” He nodded at them, then turned to Frank. “And you, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dodson held out a bundle of clothing to him. “Here are some fresh clothes. I found the smallest ones possible for you two, but-”

“Thank you,” Hope interrupted. “I’m sure they’re fine, sir.”

“Grab your stuff and follow me. I reckon y’all are chomping at the bit to get clean. I know I was when I arrived.”

His accent held a slight southern twang, and Hope raised an eyebrow at Ruth, who instantly noticed and perked up, feeling a little bit at home. They each gathered their basic shower pack and towel quickly, following the Major out of the building. 

“Where are you from, sir?” Ruth asked, walking faster to fall into step with him, already expecting somewhere close to her beloved North Carolina. 

A fond smile graced his lips as he thought of home. “Erwin, Tennessee, ma’am. You?”

“Charlotte, North Carolina.”

“Ahh the good ‘ole Queen City,” he chuckled lightly.

Dodson directed them around the corner of a block to a much smaller concrete building, resembling the shower building at Dulag Luft. The krauts sure weren’t original with their POW camp architecture, that was for sure. As they reached the door, the Major spun to face them. 

“There are no curtains, so-”

“You two go first,” Frank interrupted, nodding at Hope and Ruth.

“Alright. There’s only one entrance, so Captain Martin and I will stand guard while you two are showerin’. Sound alright?”

Hope and Ruth held each other’s gaze for a moment before thanking him and stepping inside. The room was dark and damp with a row of sinks on one side and a few showerheads on the other. A couple of benches lined the middle, and they set down their packs and towels, exchanging another brief glance before turning their backs to each other before starting to undress.

Ruth carefully removed her sling, supporting her healing arm before shrugging off her flight jacket. She sighed with relief as she stripped off her clothes, feeling the weight of the grime and filth lifting from her skin. As she peeled off her shirt, she winced at her too-quick movements that sent a sharp pain through her forearm. 

“I can’t wait to get this thing off,” she groaned, casting a longing glance at her arm, the splint’s once pristine bandages now a disgusting brown. “I can’t even shower 'cause it’ll get wet.”

“How’s it feeling?” Hope asked sympathetically from behind her.

“It still hurts, but it’s better than before.”

“And how long has it been since you got the splint?”

“Barely a week,” she sighed. “The nurse said 6-8 weeks.”

Hope paused, thinking it over for a moment. “I’d have to agree with her. Five more weeks, Rue.”

“Great.”

Silence again filled the small room as Ruth finished undressing. She heard a showerhead coming alive behind her and grabbed her washcloth and moved to one of the sinks, running the tan cloth under the frigid water. Starting with her face, she used the rag to wipe away the dirt and blod daked on her skin. The mix of brown and burgundy drips from the cloth turned the water in the sink a disgusting color as it swirled down the drain. 

The macabre sight caused a similar moment to flash in her mind, taking her back to Thorpe Abbotts…to the small officer’s outhouse…to John. Ruth felt the warmth of the shower, the feeling of the hot water rolling down her body. She smelled the familiar scent of Johnny’s soap and heard his low voice above the spray of the water. 

“Never saw the sun shining so bright,

Never saw things looking so right.

Watching the days hurrying by,

When you’re in love, my how they fly,

Blue days, all of ‘em gone,

Nothin’ but blue skies from now on…”

Much like that day, tears pricked at the corners of Ruth’s eyes as she focused on the voice of the man she loved. She’d realized on that late August day that she wasn’t alone…that she had someone to stay by her side and take care of her. Ruth had finally fallen helplessly in love, but it had all been ripped away from her without warning. 

Was she angry with God? Maybe. As a child, she remembered asking her father why God allowed bad things to happen to good people. Why He allowed her grandfather to be taken from them by a terrible car accident. William Morgan picked his daughter up and placed her on his knee, kissing her temple.

“God doesn’t make bad things happen, sweetheart,” he whispered, wiping the crocodile tear from her cheek. “Everything was perfect in the Garden of Eden, but when Adam and Eve chose to disobey God, it brought sin into the world. That sin is what makes bad things happen, not God. He loves us and gives us a choice in what we do.”

“Is it okay to be mad at him? Are you mad at him?”

William contemplated her questions, searching his wounded heart for the right answer. “It is…and I am. But I don’t blame God.”

“Well, I am too,” Ruth whispered as her lower lip quivered. “I miss papa.”

“I miss him, too. We’re gonna be alright, Ruthie.”

If there was one thing Ruth Morgan always held onto, it was her faith. She didn’t always understand, didn’t always get to see what awaited her through the rough times, but she always believed that God held her close to His heart, giving her strength when she was too weak to go on. Wiping the tear that leaked from her eye, Ruth shook away her thoughts and cleaned her arms and legs, scrubbing away the grime that had accumulated over the previous week and a half. As she washed the dirt from her skin, the various bruises and cuts littering her limbs became visible, some still an angry blue while others were barely yellow-tinted. They were a grim reminder of just how lucky they were to be alive.

Once she was as clean as possible, she hesitated before reaching up to run her hand through her hair…or trying to. Ruth winced when her fingers caught an enormous tangle, painfully pulling on her scalp, and she gave up on the blonde rat’s nest. She instead stuck her whole head under the spigot, doing her best to wash away the dirt with her good hand somehow without tangling it further. Careful of her arm, she changed into the fresh clothes Dodson gave them, trying to pull her hair out of her way with one hand. They hung loosely off her body, but at least they were clean.

“I’ll braid it for you later if you’d like.”

Ruth was startled at the sound of her friend’s voice. She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard the shower stop or Hope getting dressed behind her. With a nod, she slipped back on her sling. “Please.”

The girls finished in the bathhouse and joined Frank and Major Dodson outside. 

“I’ll lead you back to your bunkhouse,” Dodson suggested and Frank nodded in agreement. “I’d like to think the men here are better than the Krauts, but some of them have been here so long that…” he trailed off. 

“Thank you, Dodson,” Frank added, “I’ll have a quick wash up and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t rush, Frank. Ruth and I are just going to settle in,” Hope confirmed, linking her arm through Ruth’s, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. 

Dodson had long strides and the girls struggled to keep up with him as he marched back across the camp to their bunkhouse. Hope and Ruth slipped in the mud and clung onto each other to stay uptight. The last thing they wanted was to end up covered in mud again. 

Dodson opened the door to the wooden house and led them inside once more. “Do you girls need anything? Anything at all?” 

Ruth flopped down onto her bunk with a sigh and Hope shook her head, “No, I think we’re good thank you, Major. I think we just need some sleep.” 

The Major nodded, sending Hope a soft smile before he closed the door gently behind him. Now they were alone, Hope moved to sit next to Ruth. She began to run her fingers through Ruth’s damp locks, causing her friend to emit a long, satisfied groan. 

“Sit up, Rue, I’ll braid your hair.” 

The blonde obliged, sitting up as best she could without hitting her head on the low bed above her. As Hope moved her fingers through her hair Ruth sighed once more, finally feeling a little more relaxed. She’d been so uptight since they had crashed that she’d barely taken a moment to breathe. 

Hope stayed silent behind her and Ruth turned to look at her friend, noticing the few tears that had slipped down her cheeks. 

“Oh Hope, what’s wrong?” 

Hope shook her head firmly, wiping the tears away quickly, “I’m fine. I promise, Rue.” 

Ruth knew better than to believe her stoic friend, but she also knew pressing her on the subject would only cause Hope to close up further. 

“Dodson seems nice,” she changed the subject, hoping she might be able to distract Hope from whatever was plaguing her. 

She hummed in agreement but continued to run her fingers through Ruth’s hair. Grabbing the thin comb from her shower pack, Hope did her best to detangle the mess of blonde before her. She didn’t really feel like talking. The events of the past few weeks had finally caught up with her and she felt as though she might burst with her pent-up emotions. 

“I wonder what the guys are doing now?” Ruth replied absentmindedly as she tugged at a loose thread on her bedding. “What do you think they’re doing?” 

Hope thought for a moment, trying to imagine the boys back at Thorpe Abbotts. She honestly wasn’t sure what they would be doing, but she knew Ruth was trying her best to make conversation.

“Hugh’s probably annoying John in some way and Gale’s probably trying to keep the peace.”

Ruth chuckled as she imagined Hugh bickering with John like two spoiled children. She could see Gale now, running his hand through his blond locks with an exasperated sigh. 

“Poor Gale,” Ruth chuckled, “At least he’ll be good at breaking up fights if you guys have kids.” 

She was trying to be positive, to think of the future, but from the look on Hope’s face, she knew her friend was struggling. Pulling her head away from Hope’s hands, she pulled her into a tight hug, squishing her face into Hope’s neck. She could feel Hope relaxing a little beneath her touch. Hope couldn’t help but relax as Ruth’s body collided with her own. It was one of the few things that still made her smile. She wasn’t sure what the coming weeks and months would hold for them, but at least they had each other. 

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[notyour-valentine]

Go tell the English ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Angst)

[Masterlist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Tommy leaves the field lazarette in France with nothing but a trinket, and memories of the woman that had given it to him (Reader/OC is only mentioned. She doesn’t appear)

Note: Part I has started as an old writing exercise so it is stylistically a bit different. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: Description, mention and implication of violence, death and war, possible character death, rape and violence. As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. 

Wordcount: 1551 words

January - 1917

There had been a time where he had thought that nothing could be worse than Verdun, that nothing could be worse than the Somme. That nothing could eclipse the horror of the endless screams as men lost their lives left and right. 

But this was worse. 

A part of him even missed the screams for they were better than the silence. 

Tommy took another deep breath and leaned his head back against the beam. 

They say one got used to smells and once upon a time it had made sense, after all, he didn’t remember being able to smell the “stable” on him that made his mother and Aunt Pol scold him whenever he came home. 

But, like so many things, that turned out to be a lie. He still smelled the soil and the sweat and the shit all around him. 

By now he was sure he had forgotten what it felt like to breathe in air, what grass smelled like and the way wind tickled his face. He would have forgotten the colour of the sky as well, if it weren’t for the ribbon he had tucked under his shirt close to his chest. 

As they dug, he would feel it move under the movement of his pickaxe and shovels and more than once it was that feeling of the ribbon's edges scratching over his skin that made his arms continue to move. It was a reminder that it was still there. 

Tommy felt his hand tremble as he reached under the rag that his shirt had been reduced to. He held his breath until he found it, twisting his fingers around the fabric as he pulled it forth. 

They were short on matches, but they were always short on matches.

He shouldn’t waste them, because they were needed for torches, but he had to see. 

Glancing around he made sure that all the others were sleeping, before dragging the match across the surface. 

It sprang to life with a hiss and spread a small beam of red and yellow glow. As he brought the flame closer, he made sure to keep the ribbon out of reach. He would never forgive himself if it got burned or stained by the smoke. 

It wasn’t a particularly fancy ribbon, not laced or embroidered, not silk or satin, not very wide and not very thin. But he would kill the man who tried to take it from him, friend or foe. 

The match burned down to his fingers and the light died, and with it the colour of a summer sky faded back into memory, joining the girl that had given it to him. 

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, though sleep never came. 

Proper sleep hadn’t come since he had left the hospital, not since she had ghosted through the beds and soothed away nightmares with her gentle touches and soft humms. 

When he tried, he could almost hear her. 

The words of her favourite song seemed almost like a prophecy now, of that song she had sung while handing up the sheets, unknowing he was watching her. 

That was before they had properly met, before he even knew her name. She knew his of course. She had treated him since that very first night, but that was his first concrete memory of her beyond a blur of pain and agony. 

“Meet me tonight in dreamland, 

under the silv’ry moon,”

It was true that he sometimes saw her in his dreams. 

He saw the blue of her nursing uniform, the red cross on her arm, the traces of her hair peeking out under her white cap. He could see the way the sun sometimes made her eyes shine gold. And he could see her smile, her soft, shy smile, that made her lower her head as her cheeks were tinted just the slightest bit of rose. 

The taste in his mouth turned bitter as his heart clenched. 

If it was dark outside, and he thought it was dark outside, but he had no real way of telling for sure, then she would most likely be walking up and down between beds, tugging blankets into place and uncoiling hands clenched into fists. 

She would stroke foreheads and whisper sweet comforts into the ears of sleeping men, soothing away their horrors. 

He knew she had done it to him as well, but he would only know if he awoke one morning having slept through a night without having his dreams torn apart by shots and screams. 

~

His heart had been racing since they had realised where they were. And he wasn’t even able to grasp a clear thought. All he could think about was the round of bullets in his revolver and the knife. 

It wouldn’t be enough. 

But at least he could make sure to take some of the bastards with them before he bit the bullet meant for him. 

Tommy Shelby didn’t want to make his peace or say his prayers. 

Fuck those and fuck God and fuck the King and the country and fuck himself because he had gotten them into this mess in the first place. 

He had enlisted, he had volunteered, because he wanted to get away, because without Greta, Small Heath seemed dark, dreary and empty and entirely unbearable. 

She had gone because she had considered it her duty, because she was not content with staying at home and organising charity concerts and knitting scarves for the men. Because she had wanted to do something. 

She had gone to such lengths too. 

He had discovered her secret soon enough, her secret she had only confessed by accident, as her eyes had swam in tears and her chest was wrecked with sobs. 

Like countless others she had lost a loved one, like too many she had lost a brother, but only few, Tommy had thought, had lost a twin. 

He had gone to check the lists after she had told him, his heart still heavy from her grief though by the morning she had hidden it well beneath duty and dedication. 

There was only one to fit her surname-Frederic, a 2nd Lieutenant Frederic Farring, of the 36th, killed, aged 19. 

And there it was, the thing that had bothered him for two nights until he realised why. If he was 19, so was she, and that meant she had no place in France. Girls below 25 years were not permitted to come to France, let alone on the front lines. 

According to their laws, she had no place there, but her own laws of duty, loyalty and honour had compelled her to go. 

He had thought her stupid at first- she had been too young, practically still a child, a brave and stupid child that had gotten herself into something she couldn’t possibly understand. 

Not unlike John, but unlike John she at least had somewhat of an idea of what to expect. She had an understanding of war that exceeded her years. She knew it was far from heroic, she understood the pain and the grief and the suffering and most importantly, somehow, she understood the men. 

She understood more of the war than Tommy had, all from her old poems and ancient ballads and legends of times long gone by. 

She had brought those words to France with her, those tales of terror and grief- and of grieving, all scribbled down in her little notebook, in her tidy yet loopy handwriting. 

What would you say now, eh?, he wondered. Do you have some quote for that as well then? In your smart little book?

The second he had thought it, it came back to him and he could see the page before his eyes. The corner had been folded and she had dried a flower of all things between the pages. But if one removed the dried flora, the words appeared. 

They had been written in the original Greek, copied from the plaque when they had visited the country on one of their many holidays, but she had read the English translation out to him. 

They could use it for him as well now, he thought, for them. 

Go tell the English, 

stranger passing by, 

That here, 

according to their-

“Tom?”, Arthur asked, making him look up, “‘s not a bad idea, is it?”, he asked. 

His older brother’s eyes were red from tears and yet there was a glimmer of hope in his voice. 

“What is?”, Tommy asked, glancing around, expecting the cavalry. 

John had gone completely silent and was wringing his hands. 

Danny was clutching that picture of Rosie and the children, and Freddie was glancing around, watching for any sign of the approaching Germans. And Jeremiah had been praying. 

Or that was what they had been doing. Now they were all standing together, closely huddled as if yearning for warmth. 

“A hymn.”, John mumbled, his eyes never leaving the muddy floor. “We should sing a hymn.”

He didn’t want to sing a hymn. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to fight and rage and hurt someone. 

But when they had sung in the hospital, during Sunday service, her voice had always been the sweetest. 

His fingers closed around the ribbon, clutching it tight in the palm of his hand as he joined in.

End.

Part II

Thank you so much for reading. I'd be grateful for feedback of any kind!

[imaginedreamwrite]

“I want to get out of here, find a place where no one knows me.” His voice catches up with you in the late hours of the night, he’s almost sorrowful as he sits on his bed.

“Mr. Rogers-“ you start with formalities only to have your breath very swiftly leave you when he lifts his head and his blue-green eyes shine like iridescent beacons in the dark.

“Steve,” he corrects you, “please just…Steve.”

“Steve,” you’re supposed to be doing the final rounds of the night before the patients settle in, “why do you…I mean why would you…”

“Why would I want to live where no one knows me?” He repeats what you can’t quite manage to ask, and the corner of his lips twitch as if he wants to smile but is incapable.

“You’re a good man, you’ve done so much for the world and-“

“I want to get married, I want to be a father. I want…more than this.” His brutal honesty is laced with anguish, with monumental fear that he will be unable to do what he wants most.

He’s already perched on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the thin mattress when you approach. Your kitten heels and standardized starch white nurses’ uniform brushes against the back of your calves. You see him in a different light, as the young man and weary soldier that he was.

He’s not crazy; he’s suffering. And you’ve deduced that his penchant hatred of bullies has turned him into an enemy of the doctors who take liberties with nurses and patients.

You know that every instance of him attacking orderlies was completely justified. He was defending them; he was defending you.

“Steve…” you stand a few inches away from him, your hands trembling as you reach out to graze your flesh against his.

“I want to have the dream I was promised.” He looked at you, his eyes piercing your soul until your fingers brushed his cheeks. “Don’t I deserve that? Don’t I deserve the chance?”

His thick dark lashes brush against his cheeks as his eyes close, his breath comes out in soft sighs. You feel him turn into your clutch, his lips dusting the inside of your wrist as he subtly breathes you in. His hair is falling into his face which is nothing a cut couldn’t resolve, and you know it won’t be long before he grows a beard.

He is beautiful; he is an Adonis before you.

“Yes, Steve.” You finally speak, finally let go of the breath you had been holding. “Yes, you deserve happiness.”

His lips move against your wrist, a soft melody you had heard before seems to echo in your head while a picture of a happy home lingers at the forefront of your mind.

It may have been restrictive, and it was a fantasy at best, but as you listened to his soft humming you let your mind wander.

You let it wander to a place that was homey and quiet, a place with a large yard and a big picture window. A home that was made cozy by the same kind of gentle music Steve was singing, and the soft sway of two bodies together.

All of this made complete by the patter of footsteps and the childlike laughter that warmed your heart.

You saw it all; you saw it with Steve.

“Yes,” you were swept away, “you deserve it all.”

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

OFF WITH YOUR HEAD

PART 2 OF HEADS WILL ROLL

SYNOPSIS: Whenever school is in session, Eren will just keep finding new places to corner you.

PAIRING: BULLY! EREN x FEM! READER

DEDICATED TO: you guys, always you guys.

WARNINGS: unedited, slight dubcon, groping, degradation, bullying,

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

Gooooood Morning Paradis Birds! Remember to give a big round of applause to the football team for clutching the victory against reigning champion Marley High! We stay undefeated thanks to our excellent and hardworking team. Special shoutout to Captain Eren Yeager for guiding the team to another flawless victory-

You're half-heartedly paying attention to class, sleepily listening to the school announcements over the speaker until the mention of his name douses you like a shock of ice-cold water.

You can't catch the rest of the announcement because your class erupts into cheer, enthusiastically clapping their hands for the boy of the hour.

The only one not joining is you.

Eren's smile is brighter than 100 kilowatts. In the back of your mind, you wonder where he learned to smile like that. When his emotions became so practiced.

Mr.Berner tries to calm the kids down, especially Sasha who bangs on her desks and howls, creating even more hype and ruckus. The class, now in a chattier mode, excitedly breaks into little conversations.

"Man, thank god. That school is so pretentious, I'm glad we finally have something over them."

"Jeez, I know our team was good, but it's this good-?"

"-Bro, year of XXXX is stacked as fuck. It's literally never been this stacked before. We have a whole team of prodigies, it's insane-especially Eren. "

"Yepp. My dad went to Paradis too and he said shit like this never happened during his time. The academic comps were one thing, but these footballs wins? We're being put on the fucking map."

The announcements are still going on, but it's hard to hear over the noise. You're only able to catch the tail end, a useless tidbit about the word of the day.

pre·mo·ni·tion a strong feeling that something is about to happen, especially something unpleasant. Here is an example: "She had a premonition of imminent disaster" Have a good day folks, hope it's free of any premonitions!

Overhearing the unceasing praise of the boy who pinched your thighs until they bruise blue and purple was a little painful-but you were used to it. After all, he's putting Paradis on the map. Whatever the fuck that means.

While you didn't love sharing this class with him, he was seated far across the room and surrounded by a gaggle of friends. You might as well have been invisible, the way he did not acknowledge you. Maybe you should treat it as a small mercy.

Unwittingly, your eyelids grow heavy. You're sitting in the back of the class, no one would notice if you took a little nap right? Assured by the fact no one will notice, you lower your head into your folded arms and let your thoughts float.

You dream of vaguely nothing but shadows of smiles, tufts of dark hair, and the smell of the wind at sea until a noise confined to the shape of your name breaks the harmony.

"[y/n?]"

"[y/n?]"

You startle awake with pairs of eyes piercing their gazes at you. Swallowing thickly, you apologize to Mr.Berner who looks worried. He's a good teacher, and one of your favorites.

"I'm sorry Mr.Berner. I had a migraine so I laid my head down." You lie smoothly, with more grace than you knew you were capable of. Course, you could have just said you were taking an unprompted nap, but that would disappoint your lovely teacher.

He sighs, "Guess that can't be helped then. Go to the nurse ok?"

Bingo. The nurse was an understanding lady, she'd let you sleep the rest of the period off. You nod, and start to gather your materials, relieved the class' attention on you was beginning to dwindle.

"Wait, Mr.Berner, let me take her. What if she gets disoriented and falls in the hall?"

Fuuuuck. You should have known. You should have expected this because attached to the request dripping with faux concern was none other than the precious jewel of the kingdom. Eren's intrusion makes your peers perk up again at the scene unfolding in front of them.

You smile, lips tightly pressed, "I'll be fine. I don't want to distract anyone from the lesson and it's a short walk-

"It's still potentially dangerous.", Your teacher interrupts, pinching the bridge of the nose, "And while I'm completely surprised by Eren's sudden streak of altruism, he's right. Something could happen. He'll take you there safely."

A very convenient streak of altruism, all right. You think it over in your head, yeah the nurses' office is right down the hall, and once you're there, he'll leave. Sure, he'll taunt you but you can handle a few minutes worth of cruelty.

It's awkward getting up, and walking in front of the class while Eren props the door open like a gentleman. You know what a sharp contrast it must look like, you and him, you cowering into yourself, not meeting any eyes while he stands tall and confident.

"Do you have everything?" His tone is one of reassurance, and for the barest of the moments, feels too familiar. You know he's not being genuine right now, and for the first time, you question if he was genuine back then.

"You can hold onto my arm if you're too dizzy to walk." He says as you guys slip out of the classroom, purposefully a little too loudly. You hear coos from girls and a stray "She's so lucky!"

He must have heard it too, because he lowers his head to whisper into your ear, "Yeah, very lucky, aren't you?" Wisps of dark hair tickle your cheeks. You see the glint of tiny silver hoops and wonder when he had gotten his ears pierced. The illusion breaks and the performative charming prince's reassuring smile is replaced by a sneer.

"Didn't know you could lie like that, by the way. Some good girl you are if you're trying to ditch class like this." Fingers dig deep into your waist as he drags you along the empty hallway that seems to stretch on for miles.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, "How did you know I was lying?"

Viridian eyes narrow, "I've seen you get migraines before." There's a knock on your heart. As if realizing he was talking about something far away ago, a vindictive edge laces into words pouring out of his mouth, "I bet you wanted this to happen, didn't you? Wanted to get us all alone."

He's trying to get a rise out of you, that much is obvious. So you ignore him to the best of your ability.

...which quickly proved to be futile, as you suddenly find your arm pinned to your back, and your front facing the nearest walls.

"I asked you a fucking question bitch." He's practically growling, "Fucking answer me."

If there was a world record for the shortest temper, best believe Eren Yeager will have collected that accolade too. He's getting too worked up, and you could definitely feel his harness poking the back on your ass, as he grinds into you.

You manage to crane your neck, wanting to have your face shoved into the wall, and then venomously spit out, "You're not looking for answers. You just want me to repeat whatever you think is true."

This position brings back flashbacks to the library when he caged you in against the bookshelves, and like then, he spins you around to face him quite abruptly.

His smile is full of sharp teeth, "No. I know I'm right."

You don't respond. He moves in closer, his breath fanning on your earlobes. Your body can't help but let an involuntary shudder, and you close your eyes, not wanting to see his pleased grin or the way the fluorescent light makes his hoops gleam like silver bullets.

One calloused finger flicks your nipple, "Do you want to know why I'm right?"

At your lack of response, the dark-haired boy rolls your nipple in between his fingers before pinching it painfully, eliciting a small whimper out of your fuckable lips. "N-no", you answer finally. You're wearing your thinnest bra because of the seasonal heat, and you can't help but regret that decision right now. The fact he's only paying attention to one of your nipples is driving you insane. Not that you want it, but you're so fucking sensitive right now. You struggle in his hold, causing him to hold you tighter, and by now his nails were probably embedded into your skin.

He chuckles at your honesty, rewarding you with a thick stripe of his tongue over the collared shirt of your uniform making you gasp. Did he just-, over your shirt too-, you look down and see a very visible wet spot.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, a eager hand snakes under your skirt until it settles in the middle of your panties. He licks your earlobe before speaking, his voice like ice under your heels.

"You were so fucking wet that day in the library while saying you hated me the entire time," he pauses as his fingers scissor you through your panties, as if to drive the message home, "About as wet as you are right now."

There's a wet spot there too, also caused by him. You crush your eyes shut, "Eren...please just take me to the nurse." You're not even struggling anymore, holding onto him out of your own accord, worried that if you don't hold onto anything-you'd fall on your knees.

The very headache you lied about having seemed not so non-existent after all.

Eren hooks his arms under the plush of your thighs, "Yeah. Of course, that's what I came to do, right?"

*

You had hoped you'd be granted a reprieve in the nurses' office but you'd forgotten that luck was never really in your favor. Because while you guys had entered the squeaky-clean office, the nurse was nowhere in sight.

Instead, a note sat on her desk in unassuming frilly cursive that Eren read with glee.

Sorry students! Minor emergency to take care of, and I'll be back by the middle of the next period. If you're badly hurt, see Mr.Ackerman in room 203. If not, just sit tight! Feel free to take up the beds.

Thank you,

Ms.Ral

Eren had turned to you with shining green eyes, "Since no one's here, I guess I'll have to keep you company. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

There was something claustrophobic about how Eren stood in front of the door as if to signify to get out of here, you had to get through him.

"Maybe I can get Mr.Ackerman..."

Eren's sudden bout of laughter makes you wince and retreat inside of yourself, "For what? A fake headache? You really wanna inconvenience him like that? Mr.Ackerman?"

You take slow steps backward until the back of your knees hit the school bed, making you stumble as you clumsily take a seat. Eren's been marching forward with every retreating step you took, and it's no surprise when he pushes you down the bed, strong hands on the side of your head, while his muscular legs force your thighs apart so he can settle himself in between.

"We have some time to kill, you know." Strands of dark hair fall into his eyes, and without thinking, you reach upwards to brush them aside.

He grips your wrist before you make it that far, nearly gritting out a "What are you doing?"

You just stare, not really knowing why that was your impulse either. Finally, you mouth out, "I want you to leave Eren."

The grip on your wrist is tighter than ever, and you very well know that you're going to have new finger-shaped bruises before the old ones even finish healing.

"And I want to stay." He punctuates each word slowly, and all you can think is how being pinned to a bed is much less painful than having the hard surface of wood digging onto your back.

You're fully aware of the heat in your core, and having Eren on top of you doesn't make this it any easier because fuck, he is attractive. Maddeningly so. And maybe you want him to go away so bad because you're afraid that if his fingers are caught inside of you, you'll thank him for it.

As if reading your mind, he lets go of your wrist (making a mental note of your sluggish movements and slipping resistance) and massages your warm hole from your panties.

"Eren please" You grit out. He merely chuckles, "What are you asking for, whore?"

You could feel tears threatening to fall. This was so embarrassing. Did you want this? Yes, yes. yes, yes. You were so wet right now and had enough of the teasing.

He alternated his kneading from slow and soft to fast and rough, and you couldn't help but let out the prettiest little moans Eren's ever heard. Since you lose all pretenses of resistance, his other hand roughly brushes against your hardened nipples, straining against the fabric of your shirt.

Okay, he decided. He's going to make you beg.

"Beg." It's announced like a command, and while you hear it, you don't really register it because your hips are busy chasing the heat, and it's all too much of an utter disappointment when his long thin fingers leave.

"I said beg slut."

"Eren, please, please. I need you so bad." You're blubbering and you don't care. You just want his pretty fingers to shove aside your panties and rub against your folds. You think back to the library, how wet you were, how the stupid fucking phone call from his coach interrupted him pumping his fingers inside of you. And you didn't know if you were happy or mad he left. But now, all you crave is the blissful wave of pleasure- the very pleasure he's been denying you.

Eren looks down at you, green eyes scrutinizing. After a long while of what it seems to be him just staring, he wipes his fingers on your skirt, brushes back his hair with a wayward hand.

"Looks like I should head back to class. See you later."

Too numb to say anything, you watch him leave with a smirk on his face. When you're sure he's walked away, you curl into yourself and cry.

[violetnotez]

HC: Seeing Them Shirtless for the First Time | JJK

Should I be getting ready for work? Yes, yes I should be 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Music Genre: Rock | JJK

Characters: Gojo, Itadori, Megumi 

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner Note: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS ONE-Gojos in particularrrrrr

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

The first time you saw Gojo shirtless was during your first time being intimate with him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Gojo was just-perfect. You honestly couldn’t describe him any other way...yeah, he could sometimes be a pain in your ass with his boyish antics, but that somehow adds to that special charm he possesses. Even now, with his hands pinning yours above your head, lips molding into yours in a lustful heat, he was smiling as if he was having the time of his life. Gojo moved down from your lips, finally allowing you a second to breathe, instantly finding a spot on your neck, sucking and licking the skin as if his life depended on it. The sensation was overriding your system, your throat desperately trying to release a groan from the overwhelming sensation, intense heat traveling through your core. You felt him find the spot you were most sensitive in, that held back groan finally being stolen from your swollen lips. Embarrassment burst into your stomach, your knuckles tightening as you shifted to to the side, desperately trying to hide your face from making such a lewd reaction.

You felt Gojo chuckle against your skin, the vibration sending a shock wave throughout your spine and limbs. “Ah, Cmon doll, don’t be so shy,” he cooed, a devilish smirk encasing his features, “I like it when you make those little sounds for me.........and only me, right?” It was a taunt, a trap, and he knew it-if Gojo Satoru was anything, he was always confident in his abilities. And his ability to completely be able to control you, to keep you by his side, was no exception. Any other day, when you were thinking clearly you would Probabaly retort back with a back handed quip that would make him chuckle. But right now, with your head buzzing with adrenaline and only the thought of the way his skin felt against yours, his kisses burning into your flesh and the pulsating heat in your core...you just wanted him.

“Only you,” you whispered, voice wavering with nerves and adrenaline as your digits found the edge of his shirt, craving for more of his skin against yours. Gojo chuckled again, the sound warm and rich like molasses. Yet, his hand since again were on top of yours, now halting you in your pursuit of undressing him. “You really wanna do this doll? I’m not against it, not at all, but you dont have to-“

“I want to,” you interjected, face flushed with desperation, eyes wide with lust, “I want to so badly Gojo...I want you.” Gojo’s chest tightened at the words, a feral need exploding in his chest-god, the times he dreamed of this day and it’s finally happening...you were just too adorable, your hair tosseled from the heated make out sessions, lips puffy and skin so warm, your eyes practically begging him to devour you. How could he deny you that luxury, especially since you wanted it so much? He leaned in to your lips, digits tracing your skin in designs only he could imagine. He pulled away, mere centimeters from your skin. “You sure little one?” He asked again, using the nickname he gave you that always made you roll your eyes with a smile. It did just the trick, making you giggle at the name as you looked to the side-“I’ve always been ready, ya know.”

“Oh really?” He teased, that delicious smirk gracing his features. He leaned away from you, sitting up in the bed. “Well, I’m not too sure about that....” His digits wrapped around the hem of his shirt near his neck, pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it to the corner of his room. Gojo shook his hair out slightly, making the tendrils look even more chaotic than before. You felt your chest tighten by the sight of Gojo shirtless....you had imagined many times before, but seeing the real thing was way different, and way better. Gojo was built as perfectly as his personality, each muscle taught and visible in his abdomen and arms, the veins in his hand even more noticeable in the lighting. You gulped, staring at the way his sweatpants accentuated the dips of his hips, following down to the waist band of his boxers peaking out from his sweats.

Gojo noticed every gesture you made, loving how you drank in his form as he hovered over you. “Why don’t you take a picture-itll last longer,” he said as he leaned into your ear, earning a playful eye roll form you. He chuckled at your reaction, leaning back into your body, hands trailing the side of your waist. “Well if you’re not gonna take a picture....I don’t think it’s very fair that I’m the only one shirtless here....” your felt his digits find the hem of your shirt, teasingly tracing your skin under from underneath..

“So how about we change that, hm?”

The first time you saw Itadori shirtless it was by pure chance- He just cant seem to remember to bring a spare tshirt into the bathroom when he showers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Yuuji cant seem to understand why your so flustered- he is so adorable and innocently oblivious its almost painful. Especially when he comes out of the bathroom from a shower, cotton candy pink hair still dripping with water droplets, slick adomen in full view, the “V” of his hip bones partially exposed from the band of his sweatpants. You just wanted to have a chill movie night with your boyfriend-but how can you think about choosing between a horror or a comedy when you have that in front of you? You gulp down a ball of saliva as Itadori casually talked about the different options of films, rummaging through his drawers for a clean shirt as if this was all a normal event-which it was not. Your eyes were glued onto him, drinking in every deifned dip and curve and trying to hold yourself back from thinking about...other ways this cozy date could end up....

But Yuuji knows you like the back of his hand....he knows when something is wrong with you, and you most deinfitely are not your self right now. He instantly begins to ask you questions, voice softly laced with worry. You reassure him your fine, really, but Itadori knows you way too well. He gently raises your chin with his pointer and middle finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your breathe gets hitched in your throat, brain suddenly and unbelievebaly clouded from being so so close to him, now knowing that the boyfriend you love so dearly looks like a damn god under his clothing making your heart ram against your chest. His voice was comforting and warm, eyes scanning your face for any sign of sadness or even maybe sickness. 

“Whats on your mind?” he asks gently, trying to coax a response out of you so he can put his worries at ease....until he hears the words “your abs”, blurt out of your mouth at warp speed, your tone dazed and then immediately embarrassed, horror on your face for saying soemthing so honest. He blinks a few times, clearly not expecting that to come from you....but he would be lying if he didnt say he enjoyed it once it set in. A warm chuckle tumbles out of Itadori, that bright boyish grin plastered on his face. He really didnt mean to make you so flustered,..but he’s not complaining

The first time you saw Megumi shirtless was by force-he just hates being taken care of when he’s hurt.

Crimson red clumped against Megumi’s face, sticky and smeared glimpses of his pale skin glowing under the moonlight. His hair was matted down to his face from the slashes oozing out of his head, suit was slashed to bits, his ribs were killing him, and he had a limp on his left leg...but he was fine-honestly. Or that’s what he was trying to tell you...but you wouldn’t listen to a single second of the bull crap he was trying feed you. He was conflicted with emotions-on one hand, it almost annoyed him how utterly selfless you could be for him. It was 1am, the moon on its highest peak in the sky, and you were willing to play nurse for him....but on the other, it warmed him up inside that you did care so much. If he would allow himself to dwell on that emotion, he would admit-that it was .... nice....to have someone take care of him for once. He was used to bandaging each wound on his own, cleaning and disinfecting the soon to be battle scars, hissing to the walls at the pain it caused him. But with you there, you were soft, so gentle with him. Your touch was like a second adrenaline rush for him-you had yourself cradled in his lap, the skin of your thighs barely crazing his tattered uniform. Hands gently positioning his hair, pushing the wispy jet black strands away from the wounds.

“I can do this on my own,” he retorted quietly, his voice a few octaves lower from fatigue. “I bet you could..” you completely ignored him, continuing to busy yourself with closing a scrape on his skin with butterfly bandages. “-but why would I let you?” Megumi felt his breath hitch, taking a sharp breath in....any type of annoyance he felt with you being so god damn persistent instantly left his body, the only thing he can focus on was how much he loved your selfless nature-even if it could be annoying at times. But the instant he took in that deep breath, he felt a deep, guttural pain in his side, making him groan before he could stop it from spilling out of his mouth. That soft gaze you had turned to worry, your hands wrapping around his face, thumbs running smooth circles on his pale skin. “Your hurt....we’re going to need to-“

“N-no, I-“Megumi stuttered out, obviously flustered by the prospect of you seeing him so bare. “I-I’m fine. I can do this on my-“ his voice was stern and cold, yet the wavering tone made any attempt of sounding firm go invalid. You gave him a small smile, your fingers still running circles against his skin, making him look at you with nervous eyes. “Megumi, you are not fine,” you stated calmly, with eyes that simply said the opposite-you were genuinely worried for him. “please...you could have broken a rib, or done soemthing to cause a lot of damage...please, Megumi, I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.” You were asking him, pleading with him, and it broke Megumi in his core-he just couldn’t stand to see you look that scared for him of all people. Megumi sighed, eyes drifting down to the floor in hopes you couldn’t see his embarrassment as he gave in to you.

You helped Megumi shuffle out of his uniform, opting to cut it with some scissors halfway (as it was tattered to shreds already). Both of you were quite nervous...in your relationship, you had never down anything that would warrant for you to see each other’s body’s. So you being able to see him without a shirt felt like a huge step, even if it wasn’t such a big deal to an outsider. Once the fabric was finally off, you both sat in silence, your minds reeling. You knew Megumi was fit, but seeing exactly how much that work paid off brought heat flooding your body, your eyes focused on the way his breath contracted and relaxed his muscles, the moonlight catching the divots of his lower abdomen deliciously. Pale white Scars littered his skin from training, making his body even more mysterious to look at. Each scar was a story, some sort of battle, a lesson he had to learn...you wanted to learn about each and every one. Your hand felt drawn to them, digits slowly checking for signs of bruising, purposefully tracing those scars in order to burn them to memory. Fushigori was practically panicking, desperately trying to keep his heartrate lowered, the cool night air biting at his heated skin as your digits traced against his sides. You were only trying to detect the spots that could be damaged on his abdomen...but damn was it firing something inside him. He was feeling more comfortable like this, just relishing the feeling of your skin on his.

© Violetnote 2020

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

[jadequeen88]

A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture. 

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor. 

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him. 

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s. 

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you. 

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected. 

[sashi-ya]

Female reader + no. 6: Uniforms (doctor or nurse) with Sabo, Ace, Sanji and Law please.

Hi!! of course! I choose to write little scenarios. I hope you like them!. Thanks for taking part in the event. Enjoy 💖 ~

NSFW ~ Scenarios for Law, Sanji, Ace & Sabo ~ Wearing Uniforms: Doctor/Nurse ~

Kinks: 🌶 #3: Uniforms

Law ~A pleasant surprise.

WC: 590.

“Finally, it has arrived!!”, you ran to your front door where the postman had left the box with the special order you made a few days ago. “Prepare yourself, doc”, you think as you open the little cardboard box and discover the transparent bag that holds a pretty revealing costume of a sexy nurse. Law is working at the hospital right now, so you run to your room to try on the white short dress. You look amazing, the stockings with red lace give the whole costume a special touch.

“I’m gonna tease him a little”, you think and snap a picture that only shows part of your thighs and the white edge of the dress over them.

You > I got a surprise for tonight, come home fast ♥ ~ DrHeartStealer > Oi babe, what is it? Wanna bite those thighs ;)

“Perfect”, you celebrate as you take off the costume and put it on a hanger. This is going to be the first time Law sees you wearing something like this, specially related to his professional area. “I hope he likes it…”

He usually spoils you in private, but tonight you wanted to make something special for him. He has been working a lot lately, so he deserves it. After cooking his favourite meal, onigiris -with NO umeboshi, for the love of God - you leave them in the fridge and take a relaxing bath where you pamper yourself before he arrives. Your skin is glowing, your hair flows and your vanilla perfume, Law’s favourite, scent your whole body. You have chosen to wear a cute yellow floral dress that either way will only last until you finish dinner…

DrHeartStealer > Baby, I’m coming home. Be there in 10’ 💫 You > Ok, darling ♥

You give yourself the last touches, a little bit of lipstick and smack your lips in front of the mirror. You hear the keys opening the door, and there is Law. Your poor boyfriend, stressed from work, but when he sees you, flashes a big smile to you -you are the only one that knows that smile-.

The dinner table set with candles and the food perfectly served, makes him say “babe, all of this for me??, don’t tell me it’s our anniversary and I forgot! But it’s in October...”. “Oh no no babe, I just wanted to spoil you!”, you tell him smiling at how cute he looks when he worries about your relationship. “Come on, let’s eat”, you tell him, and inside you are already relishing it because he is still wearing scrubs. “But wait, don't you want me to change clothes?”, he says while you pull from his arm. “Hehe… keep it on”, you tell him with a side smirk.

The dinner is over, and you tell him, “Babe, wait here. You have to come when I call you from the bedroom, ok?”. He nods confused but still smiling and you run giggling upstairs. You get ready and call him “Doctor, could you please come here?”.

Law prudently enters your bedroom. “Babe”, he gasps, opening his eyes wide and then grinning sexily. “Doc, could you please help me with this?”, you tell him and gently lift the side of the little white skirt, showing him your thighs with those sexy stockings.

“It’s funny how I don’t want to see anything related to the hospital at home, but this time I want you to be dressed like this all the time, baaaaabe”, he says and jumps into bed next to you.

The rest, you already know it ~

Sanji ~ Treatment

Tw: nose bleeding 😂

Wc: 553

The girls and you bought some fun costumes on that pretty island yesterday. Nami chose an odalisque one because it reminds her of Vivi, Robin chose a “Catwoman” one, and you, despite wanting a chef one, ended up buying a cute little doctor costume.

You are spending the afternoon taking pictures in the girls’ bedroom, having fun all dressed up in the Thousand Sunny. Nami of course is the queen of the sexy poses. Vivi takes part in the little party via video calling. Music blasting, while the boys are entertained with their own activities.

“I’m thirsty, gonna tell Sanji-kun to bring some drinks. Want something to eat?”, you ask your girlfriends. “Oh yes, please!!”, shouts Nami. Robin asks for iced tea.

You shout from the door, “SAAAANJI-KUN!”, and the blond cook is already there in a matter of seconds. He has changed a little since he fell in love with you, but his simpnature still shows. You like him as much as he likes you, but you are still seducing him -No need to, though-.

“Yes, my dear, Y/N-swan”, he tells you while trying to peek through the little opening of your door. You notice this and decide to make him want you even more. You open a bit more the door, and let your thigh flash a part of the white stockings you are wearing. Sanji looks directly at it, widens his eyes, and his breathing becomes faster. “Sanji-kun… we want drinks, can you please bring us some to our party??”, you ask him with an attitude you learned from Nami when you want something for a man.

“Y-yes, Y/n-Swan”, he says, with his lips trembling and a little droplet of blood running from his nose. You smile at Sanji, opening a little bit more, letting him see the side boob that shows your white dress, and perhaps the girls in the background having fun. “Ri… right away…”, he says. “Thank you!” you tell him and close the door fast. You can even feel the warmth his body emanates from behind the wooden door and laugh with a devilish attitude. You imagine what fantasies run through his mind, and love to tease that pretty chef to the max.

A few minutes after Sanji knocks on the door and you decide to ignore him for a little while. You have planned with your friends to let him wait so he could open the door and watch the spectacle for a few minutes. After all he has always been amazing with you all, so he deserves a gratification.

Of course you know him well, and after the second time he knocks on the door, he can’t fight against his pervert instincts and opens the door. The image of three goddesses playing sexily in front of his eyes, is just too much to handle. He lets the tray over the floor and stands still while blood runs from his nose.

“Oh poor Sanji-kun, let me cure you”, you tell him while you approach with the plastic stethoscope of your costume on your hands. The blond chef laughs hysterically while you push him out and take him to the next room.

“Ready for your treatment?”, you tell him while sitting on his lap and brushing the blood out of his face… ~

Ace & Sabo ~ Trick or treat?

WC: 362

“I’m already running out of candy… How many kids are coming tonight trick or treating? omg….”, you whine because the bell hasn’t stopped ringing all afternoon. You want to get ready for tonight’s party, but you keep getting disrupted by a million kids asking for candy at your door.

“That’s it, this is the last one I open the door to”, you say annoyed, half dressed up with a nurse costume, after the bell rings once again. You open the door with your cell phone in your hands without even looking at the “kids” with a big bowl on your hands and offer to “them” before even listening.

“Trick or treat”, says a manly voice laughing. You get scared, and your sight is directed to the “child”. Freckled cheeks, black flowy hair, abs showing and dressed only with a white coat over. Another one, but wearing blue scrubs, a red scar over his eye and blond hair. These are not kids, for sure.

“I see we have matching outfits”, the blond guy says. “Uhum”, you tell them, smiling. “We’ve come to invite you to our party, we are new to the neighbourhood and decided to throw a big party tonight. Want to come?”, the dark haired “doctor” says. “I am... uhm...”, you doubt because you have already been invited to another one, but damn, how sexy they look. The blond one flashes you a sexy smile, and you decide. “Ok! I’m coming then”, you say to them trying to hide the arousal they are producing on you.

“Perfect!”, says the blond one. “Ok…” you awkwardly say, because they are not moving from your front porch. “But either way, trick or treat?”, asks the freckled boy. “Uhm, treat?”, you tell them laughing. “Yeah, but you see, there is only one candy, and we are two people…” the guy wearing the blue scrubs says to you, with an evil grin.

You laugh sarcastically, bite your lip, and tell them “Well, then, doctors. I chose “trick”. The three of you smile and you let them in.

That night you learned his names were “Sabo” and “Ace”, and the party took place at your home, after all ~

[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

Forgotten Birthdays

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Your parents and friends (except for those in the volleyball club) forget your birthday

A/N: One last bit before the angst later. Plus, this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie.

When people asked, your answer was always the same. “I don’t know. I forgot it a while ago.” So many people would ask how you could forget something so important. So many people would laugh and give you a look that you read all too well as a look of pity.

   Though you couldn’t blame them. Who could forget their own birthday?

   Well, to be honest, you hadn’t. But you said you did. It made things easier to cope with. No one else ever remembered.

   You hoped this year would be different. Your trust and love for your boyfriend and his volleyball club had given you a bit of hope that you hadn’t thought yourself capable of, any longer. For the first time in years, you woke up on your birthday with a smile, wondering if maybe Tōru had broken the cycle and remembered.

   It didn’t take long for you to tug on your uniform and practically fly out of the door to school.

   You should have known better. Maybe that would have made the inevitable heartbreak the tiniest bit easier. But, when you greeted your boyfriend, any trace of hope that anyone would ever remember or care just... faded.

   “Hey Tōru,” you greet your boyfriend with a kiss to his cheek, which he responds to with an almost sheepish grin. Then, you look at the other three third years, waving to them with a light smile.

   “What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Hanamaki raises an eyebrow in your direction, “You’re usually pretty tired in the mornings.”

   Without a moment’s hesitation, your boyfriend nods his head, “Today special?” He asks you curiously.

   If he hadn’t looked away when he did, he might’ve caught the crestfallen look that flashed across your features. It seemed Iwaizumi was about to ask you something, when Tōru speaks up again, “Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to pull it away from you, but would you mind if I had my jacket back? We’ve got a practice game later and I’ll need it for then.”

   Managing a weak smile, you nod and silently slip the jacket from your shoulders, before handing it to him. It takes you a moment to swallow the lump in your throat and speak, but luckily, you did manage to keep your voice level. “Of course... I have a class I’ve got to be to early, this morning. So, I’ll see you at lunch?” 

   Visibly flinching at your words, Tōru frowns. “Cutie, I wish I could but I-”

   “Need to practice. I understand.” You nod, before glancing at the other three, “See you three later...” With a nod and an almost awkward wave of your hand, you carry on towards the school.

   You barely manage to carry yourself to the nurse’s office, before tears brim your eyes. The look of pity that came from the school nurse is what had the tears finally trickling down your cheeks, your meek question for an area to discreetly regain your composure silenced by her ushering you to a bed and pulling the curtain closed, for you.

...

2:37

From: My Pretty Setter    ‘You coming? You’re usually here before most of the boys.’    ‘Y/N? Everything alright?’

Sent to: My Pretty Setter    ‘I haven’t been feeling well, today, Tōru.’    ‘I’m sorry, but I’m just going to go home and see if laying down helps. But let me know how it goes, okay?’    ‘I’ll be rooting for you, from a distance.’

   Locking your phone, you tuck it back into your bag. Maybe it was for the best, anyways. You didn’t know how much more you could take after the pitying ‘Happy Birthday’ was thrown your way after the nurse looked over your file.

   You began the walk home with your eyes glued to the pavement in front of you. You could contain your tears until you got home, couldn’t you?

   The walk felt like it lasted an eternity before you were finally able to enter an empty household. You left the lights off as you trudged to your room, shutting the door behind you. You pull your phone and laptop from your bed, gently placing them on your bed before you drop your schoolbag to the floor.

   Slumping back in your chair, you feel the tears start to fall. You felt humiliated and you weren’t even sure why. You’d been such an idiot to believe this year would be any different than any other.

   The morning spent, slowly realizing that despite all of your efforts to not care about your birthday and to not remember it, you did remember it, and you did care. Then, you spent your lunches alone. And you went home as soon as school ended... And you spent the evening all alone, sometimes making a subpar cupcake or cake for yourself.

   Your brows furrow as you glance in the mirror. You felt pathetic and you fucking hated it.

   With your attention so focused on your reflection in the mirror, you didn’t realize someone else was in your house, until you heard your door creek, as it was pushed open. And there stood the last person you wanted to see right now.

   Sinking to the edge of your bed, you bring your hands up to quickly wipe away the tears that quickly rolled down your cold, wet cheeks, “Tōru, what are you doing here? You have a practice game—”

   “Y/N, stop,” he comes to kneel in front of you, in between your legs, softly cooing to you. “Sweet baby, hey, what are you doing here? Alone?”

   Tōru, of course, knew that your parents were seriously absent in your life. They were almost never home, and you were left alone, more often than not, which was why you both called and texted one another as frequently as you did. Unless he could be there with you, then he was spending the night as often as he could.

   But today was your birthday. Not just that, but your eighteenth one, at that. Why weren’t they here to celebrate with you?

   “What do you mean?” Your confusion broke his heart, “It’s just like any other day. They’re never here.”

   “No, it’s not. Today is your birthday and they—” His breath caught in his throat, realization hitting him. So that was why you pretended to never know your birthday. Because even your parents had forgotten. “Baby did they...?”

   You frown, looking at the ground, “You — You forgot too,” your voice is weak and as you fall silent, you bite down on your bottom lip in an attempt to keep the quiver out of your voice. “But, it’s not important. You have a game to get to, anyway.”

   Tōru’s shoulders fall. This morning had been a display of what the four third-years thought to be bad acting. They’d never forget your birthday and they thought you’d have figured out what they were up to, by now. There was no practice game. Only a birthday party for you that the team had put together. Which was why your boyfriend had been so quick to retrieve you.

   “Baby, none of us forgot your birthday. Stupid idea to act like none of us remembered, honestly, I know. It is important and... Just come with me, yeah? We’ll talk about this thing with your parents, later. Sound good?”

   Your eyes move back to him, tears filling them all over again. “You - You didn’t..?”

   He shakes his head, bringing his hands to gently cup your cheeks, gently wiping his thumbs over your wet cheeks. “Of course I didn’t. You can’t imagine how very important you are to me, Y/N. I wasn’t going to let you go without celebrating, today. Because no matter how unimportant you think today is...” He laces his fingers together with yours as he speaks.

   “The day that my favorite person in this world and the person I love more than anything came into this world is just as important to me as... Making it to Nationals, if you can believe that.”

   His comparison makes a quiet laugh escape you, sniffling a bit. “I’m sorry for assuming you forgot.”

   “Don’t apologize.” Tōru scolds you, “But I am serious when I say that I need to have a serious talk with your parents. No child should go without ever getting to celebrate with the people who care about them. That’s just not how it works.”

   Wrapping your arms around your boyfriend, you allow him to pull you up so that you’re both standing, wrapped in one another’s arms. The way you bury your face in his chest and allow yourself to relax against him reassures him. 

...

After allowing you time to clean yourself up and get dressed, Tōru takes your hand and quite literally drags you all of the way back to the Aoba Jōsai volleyball club gym, grinning stupidly as he knocks a few times on the door to let them know that you were both there. Then, he pauses and turns towards you to look at you in excitement as he waits for them to get ready inside.

   After a moment, he manages to kick the door open, tugging you into the dark gym. He moves to your side, but still, his eyes don’t leave you. He silently wondered if this was your first birthday party. No matter if it was, or not, though, he wasn’t to see your reaction to all of his meticulous planning... After all, he had been planning all of this for a solid two months.

   It was all he’d been talking about to Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. Though, they would admit that it was nice to see him so invested in something that wasn’t volleyball, for once.

   As the lights are turned on, you find yourself looking at the (mostly) smiling faces of the volleyball club that you had grown so familiar with. Though you weren’t officially a manager, you were always here to support them at practices and games. They all knew that if any of them came and asked you for help with anything, you’d do it for them in a heartbeat. Everyone in the club adored you.

   Shittykawa had done himself well, finding you and everyone in the club agreed.

   “Happy birthday, Y/N,” a chorus of voices call out to you, some leaving you to register and take in your surroundings, while others immediately approached so that they could speak to you.

   Iwaizumi is the first to reach you, “I hope you like it. Loserkawa has been planning this for you for months.” Though most around you laughed at the seeming jest, you took his words for what they were: a subtle way of telling you that Tōru had planned this all, by himself and deserved the credit for it.

   After speaking to some of the team, you see your boyfriend go to grab a parcel with a bow on it for you, bringing it back to you with a grin. “Open it.”

   Giving him a look of confusion, your hands begin to peel open the parcel, allowing your boyfriend to pull the trash from your hands so that you can use both of them to see your gift. It was a jacket, themed with your school’s colors, teal and white. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you look at the words on the back of the jacket. 

       ‘Y/N L/N ‘Seijoh’s Manager’

   Turning it over in your hands, you looked at the front as well. Next to the zipper, on the right side of the jacket and below the collar, rest more words.

‘If found, please return to Tōru Oikawa’

   “So, do you like it?” Your boyfriend wears a sheepish, almost apprehensive smile as he tries to gauge your reaction.

   “I love it, Tōru. I love it all... Thank you.” Your words are accompanied by a sweet kiss to his lips.

   “You two, the first years are present, come on, now.”

   “So mean, Iwa-chan! Now how about we turn on some music and treat this like an actual party?”

General Taglist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 2

So the first part did decently well, so I figure I could add a second part. 

---------

For the next few hours I waited, making sure he was truly asleep. The Michael I knew was a heavy sleeper, but I would never be able to tell if that was a lie too. During that time, I tried to make a plan on how to escape. If this was Michael’s apartment building, it meant it was on the outskirts of town and nowhere near the police station, so my only option was running. But it had been a while since I had any food or water, so my ability to do any running was limited to one short sprint. As far as getting out of the chair went, there was the knife that Michael threatened me with at my feet. But I was conflicted about using it. Had he left it there on purpose to taunt me? It was my only way of escape, so caution had to be thrown to the wind. 

Using the rubber on the soles of my shoes, I carefully got the knife handle between them. The next challenge was to get it up to my hands. All those crunches Coach did were paying off. I took the knife from my shoes and relaxed, gripping the handle tightly. Awkwardly, I began slowly cutting at the duct binding my hands together and then around my chest until I was free. Every cut took what felt like hours, but I didn’t want to be loud to make sure he didn’t catch me. By the time I got finished it was the end of the afternoon, the sky slowly fading from blue to the sunset.  Once free, I stood up slowly, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak underneath my feet. I took my steps slowly, feeling my heart pound. The door to the outside world felt so close yet so far away. Out of the corner of my eye, Michael’s door was in my vision. But the problem was that the door was closed earlier, but now it was opened with just a crack. 

He was awake, but he hadn’t heard me. It was now or never, I walked quickly to the front door and made my way into the hallway, the heavy door slamming behind me. 

“(Y/N)!” I heard Michael shout. I started to run, Michael’s apartment was on the third floor so running down the stairs was the only option since taking the elevator would mean he would be at the bottom. By the time I had made it to the second floor, I could hear his booming steps behind me. 

“GET BACK HERE!” I picked up my pace, almost tripping down the steps multiple times. Until I saw the front door of the building, slamming into it and making my way outside. The parking lot was empty except for a black Camaro, a man was leaning against it, looking towards the woods. It was a risk, this guy could be working with Michael. But Michael never really worked well with others in school. 

“HELP!” I screamed, feeling my legs start to ache from running all those stairs. The adrenaline running through my veins halting, “HELP ME!” The man turned and my heart almost stopped. It was Derek Hale. One of the survivors from the Hale fire six years ago. 

By now he had turned to face me, looking at me and then Michael who was hot on my heels. 

“Help!” I shouted, crashing into him. He didn’t move, it felt like running into a wall, “Please help me.” I held on tightly to his leather jacket. 

“Please.” I pleaded, hoping that he was just there at the right place at the right time. By that point, Michael had caught up. 

“Hey, man.” Michael panted, “Thanks for catching her. My girlfriend gets a little crazy when she’s off her meds.” 

Derek looked down at my face, his expression became hard and frightened me a bit. He took my hands from his jacket. It’s over, he’s going to hand me over. But then, he pulled me so I stood behind him, keeping him between me and Michael. 

“I think you should leave.” Derek said. I had never heard him speak before. From what I could remember from high school, after the fire Derek had become reclusive and kept to himself. 

“Listen, pal, if you don’t hand her over, I’ll need to get physical and we both know you don’t want that to happen.” Michael warned, gripping a knife in his hands. But the way he spoke made it seem like they knew each other, but Michael had never mentioned Derek before. 

“(Y/N), come on. Let’s go home.” Michael said. 

“No.” 

“Fine.” He glared, “Then leave.” He spat his words like they were laced with venom. Derek glanced towards the passenger door, like an invitation to freedom as he made his way to the other side of the car. Michael, however, went back on his words. He stalked towards Derek, knife in his hands. 

“No!” I scrambled to stop his path and the knife meant to Derek’s back found its way into mine. The pain itself made my body seize up, making me fall into Derek once again, his green eyes looked full of panic. 

“Shit.” Michael hissed, pulling the knife from my back and sprinting away. My knees buckled, the last of the adrenaline gone. 

“Hey, hey.” Derek held me up, pulling me with ease towards the back of his car, “You’re gonna be okay.” He laid me down in the back seat, slamming the door and getting into the front, starting the car. The Camaro’s wheels screeched on the pavement as they sped off onto the road. His eyes kept looking back at me in the rear view mirror. 

“Hey, stay awake, (Y/N).” I tried to speak but my vision was going black, as it was I could hear Derek’s voice farther and farther away. 

- 

“(Y/N)?”  A sweet voice called, “(Y/N), can you hear me?” My eyes slowly fluttered open, then squeezed shut at the bright lights. 

“Where am I?” I whispered, my throat was sore.

“You’re in the hospital. We took you into surgery, everything went well and you’re healing just fine.” She said sweetly. I was finally able to open my eyes and found the nurse who had been talking to me. She wore burgundy scrubs and had her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. 

“The Sheriff is here to see you, but I told him that you still needed rest.” She said, standing up and writing her vitals. 

“No, it's okay to let him in.” She took a deep breath, “He’s my godfather.” The nurse nodded and she walked out the door. But instead of Uncle Noah, Stiles rushed into the room, the nurse right behind him. I slowly began to sit up to greet him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you sit right back down. Are you okay?” His words rushed from his mouth. 

“Slow down.” I smiled weakly, “I’m okay.” 

“You got stabbed.” 

“I’ve been better. How’s that?” Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the Sheriff make his way in the room. 

“Hi Uncle Noah.” I said softly. He looked like he usually did, stressed and tired. 

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was somber and brought back the memories that my parents and my home were gone forever. My eyes brimmed with tears, my lips tight to hold back my sobs. Uncle Noah came to my side, and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, rubbing her shoulder softly. I turned into his side, wet spots growing on his uniform from my tears. Stiles held my hand, moving his thumb across my knuckles.

- 

Later after feeling a little more lucid, Uncle Noah wanted to take my statement. 

“Can you tell me about what happened last night?” 

I took a deep breath, “I went out to go to a party. Around eleven o’clock. On my way there I ran into Michael. He….” I looked up, trying to avoid tears again, “He knocked me out and took me to his apartment. And he tied me up. He showed me the news telling me mom and dad were dead.” I hiccupped back a little sob, “He threatened me with a knife then he went to bed. He dropped the knife at my feet, I cut myself out, and ran. He was running behind me and I ran into a guy in the parking lot, Derek Hale.” 

“Derek Hale?” He asked, stopping his note taking. 

I nodded, “Yeah, he was just there in the parking lot. I ran up to him, he was going to drive me away from there. Michael came after him with the knife and I got in the way. I don’t remember much after that.” 

He nodded, taking his notes on a small flippad. 

“Isn’t that the guy who survived in that fire five years ago?” Stiles piped in from a chair in the corner. 

“Yeah, that’s him. I’ll have to track him down to find him. Get his statement.” Uncle Noah put his notepad in his pocket. “Get some more rest, kiddo, you’re getting discharged tonight into my care.”

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[widowsofchaos]

Here With You

summary: The weight of drugs can break any relationships, but your love for him is greater.

pairing: Mike Weiss x black!reader

10. “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?”

12. “Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.”

Beta by @avintagekiss24 A big thanks to my good sis! Thank for being such a great friend on taking the time to help edit!🤍

warnings: fluff and angst.

a/n: this is 1/2 of my submissions for @angrybirdcr ‘s 200 follower challenge! I choose to write for Chris Evan’s character Mike Weiss. Great underrated film! Thanks for hosting, babe! <3 thank you for being so understanding on my lateness on my submissions! <3 sorry again for being late!

do not repost my works!

This wasn’t new -- this feeling of dread --- awaiting for the shit-storm of pain, and the rainfall of tears. A slow, and yet tender feeling like a blossoming bruise. The inside of your cavity feels shattered by every inhale of a strained wheeze.

Cloudiness floats around your skull like a haze, but you move on auto-pilot --- your feet move by the surge of determination, and commitment; a bitter-sweet twinge weighs on your tongue to witness someone you love fall apart at the seams.

It’s 3 in the morning now, the moon beams high in the inky sky. The apartment is blanketed by darkness, cautiously all lights are off. Chaos ensues, your heart lurches at the muffled vomiting, and whimpers from the bedroom down the hall. Your fingers tighten around the bucket, clutching as the plastic digs into your palm.

Two chilled soaked rags hang limply over your forearm. Breathless as your footfalls dash against the carpeting, bolting through the room to see Mike slumped-over the edge of the bed, his legs tangled in wrinkled sheets.

Drenched sweat soaks through two thick pillows --- now a bit flat, and wet --- blankets strewn around by fits of rage or Mike crying that his skin is too boiling hot. A lone lit lamp illuminates the room into a dim dewy yellow flourish --- an excess of light hurts Mike’s eyes, and gives him a migraine.

The bulb emitting makes his entire body shine by the sheen of sweat, shivering, and groans of your name slips from his quivering pink lips.

Half of his body leaning over the mattress, his trembling fingers shakingly gripping the carpeted flooring, as if he was trying to crawl his way out of bed. “I’m here, Mikey. I’m here.” A broken sob escapes your lips, as you gently fall on your knees beside him. Tears break its watery shield, and collide down your cheeks to see Mike crumble.

Drool pooling from his mouth, and puke residue sits at the corner of his lips. His eyes pinching shut-tight, crying at the pain, you shushing him as you caress his cheek.

With all your strength, with gentle hands, you push Mike over on his back, guilt coiling in the pit of your belly at him moaning. Your hands sliding underneath his armpits, you maneuver him -- twisting his torso, and legs so his body can lay horizontally on the bed.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Mike croaks, his voice was hoarse, and raw. You bundle a bit of your nightie in your hand, to wipe his mouth --- it didn’t matter, you’ll wash it later. “It’s okay. No need to apologize.” You stroke your knuckles sweetly against his cheek, reassuring him by touch and voice that you want to be here; to remind him you’re here for the long haul.

You kiss the crease between his furrowing brows, then your lips featherly trail upward, and kiss his forehead, with no hesitation to sweat sticking to your mouth. “You’re still a bit warm, but the fever is going down.” You spoke breathlessly against his skin, your lips tickling his skin.

Gingerly laying the rag on his forehead, Mike sighs in relief, his lashes fluttering closed at the cooling sensation surging through his buzzing head.

It’s been four days of Mike going raw cold-turkey. Four days of pure hell for Mike, and four days of pure grief for yourself.

In the beginning of this trial, when the drugs began flushing out of his system Mike wasn’t himself --- it was as if he’s a frothing beast scouting for substance. Screaming matches spewing from his irritation, itching between these four walls; Mike resembling a caged animal.

Pure rage masking self-hatred; anger at the aches deep in his muscles, pity at that maybe he can’t do this.

To accomplish sobriety.

Vomiting with his head limp, and deep in the toilet, hours of crying, and pleas for that one last hit --- Mike screaming for God to end him, and that he doesn’t deserve you. Cradling him in your arms, rocking him like an infant, as he sputters incoherent cries; speaking in hushed tones in his ear that you love him --- all his flaws, and scars.

What provoked his final decision to get clean, and start a new slate for one’s health, life longevity, and to keep your love --- was a discovery he dreamt to have long ago but felt he wasn’t deserving to earn.

“I’m sorry --- a-about the ca--r-rpet.” Mike whispers in choppy puffs, whining low. Jesus, this man is in pain, and he’s worried about you being mad at the carpet? You shook your head slightly, gesturing to him that you weren’t mad.

“Don’t apologize for that, it’s nothing. I’ll clean it later.” You spoke in a calm hush, as you placed the bucket on the floor, next to his bedside.

Your hand delicately pad against the clammy biceps with one rag, testing his bodily temperature, taking the remaining rag off of your slightly cold-numbing skin.

You kiss the corner of his brow, as you rub down his chest with the crisp rag, his lips part as an airy breath laced with deep relief escapes; as the refreshing fabric graces his flesh. His chest hair swirled a bit under the comforting circular motions.

Admiring his body, your eyes trace over every ink stroke of his tattoos adorning him. Sheen of water linger as you soothe Mike, silently reciting the Buddhist quote on his chest. Through the rag, you trace the designs of his tattoos by the tips of your fingers --- soft as petals.

Your hand travels the rag downward his torso to dull the slight overheating. Mike hums lowly with his eyes laxly closed shut, his breathing now ceasing into an easy rhythm. Memories begin flooding Mike’s head, as his breathing relaxes steadily. Recollections of how Mike and yourself met years prior --- four years to be exact --- at the hospital you work at.

It was a dark cloudy day, the outside world drenched with heavy pouring rain; the atmosphere was thick with dread, and scented with antiseptic. Sniveling, and irritated with a forthcoming migraine, the flickering lightening tube hovering above him was like a menacing tick, making him twitch internally; as he laid in the hospital bed.

Balling the white blue-polka dotted hospital gown into his fists, the fabric bundling between his fingers. Mike was silent, as he scanned his environment motionlessly.

Accidental overdose is the verdict. Sunken eyes with lavender hues, as the mulling cadence of ringing phones, bustling chatter of nurses, and squeaking footfalls of passing doctors flood the hallways.

A click of the door opening, and in all your glory, your hair tied in a bun with a few curls straying, wearing a purple nurse uniform, a clipboard clutched in your palm, Nike sneakers for comfort --- being on your feet all day --- and a name tag boldly showcasing your printed name.

In your palm, are clear bags of his folded clothing, and shoes. Nicely you place the bags at the edge of the bed near Mike’s feet.

“Hello Mr. Weiss. How are you feeling right now?” A melodic timbre that soothed Mike, lulling his weary mind to a blissful state. The concern didn’t go unnoticed, how you worded your question in the namesake of professionalism, and humane authenticity.

‘Right now?’ Usually people would ask how he’s feeling as if he wasn’t struggling prior with the question, ‘How are you today?’ and his usual response would be, ‘Shitty.’ sealed with a somber shit-eating grin, but you asked how he’s feeling right now, so you can help him, not analyze him.

You didn’t sound fake, nor condescending. Usually a lot of medical staff didn’t have much regard for addicts, nor at least a speck of pity or sympathy. Mike’s tongue was heavy, struggling a little to speak up.

Gaping his mouth open and closed, like a mindless goldfish. You peeked over your clipboard, with a sweet arched brow, giggling lowly to yourself --- your brown hues sparkling in amusement. It was a tiring day, so to see this man stammering over his words was beyond cute, and the highlight of your day.

“Are you okay?” You asked with a small curling smile, hiding your snickering behind the clipboard, with only musing eyes squinting in giggles appearing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m actually better now.” Mike perked up, coughing a bit as his voice was hoarse, bashful, and his pale cheeks dusting pink. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Why in the fuck am I floundering? Get a grip, Mike! Mike never stuttered around women, always flirtatious. This was new for him.

“That’s good. How is your body feeling after the sedatives? Any discomfort right now?” Your soft voice interrupted his rampant thoughts.

“Just a bit groggy, but what else is new?” Mike humorlessly chuckles, as he shamelessly eyes your body. You notice him checking you out, but you elect to ignore him with a warm smile — but you couldn’t deny, you’re silently enjoying his wordless flirtation; despite your fatigued stature, this man still saw attraction to you.

“I promise it’ll pass. Just get some rest, and stay hydrated.” With a flick of your carmine painted nails, you smoothly perked the clipboard on your waist as you unlatched the metal clip, retrieving a few handbills.

“Here I have chosen a few pamphlets for rehab centers, and a few numbers for therapy agencies.”

“I don’t need those.” Mike pushed your out-stretched hand gently away.

You arched your brow at him, clicking your tongue at his ignorance, “And why don’t you need them?” You inquire kindly, a cautious tone; not wanting to release this man from the hospital’s care, just to snort and shoot up into an early grave.

“Listen, I can tell you’re sweet. Too sweet for someone like me to be concerned with. I’ve tried to get clean, and it never works. It’s just not for me.” Mike hastily sits up, slinging his legs over the bed, flinging the thin blanket off of him, “It’s not worth it.” He mutters under his breath.

You were entirely taken back, wincing at how low he talks of himself. Intently watching this man hastily open the bags to get his clothes, the edge of his jaw pinched pink --- like ripe warm peaches. Was it due to embarrassment?

You place the papers on the bed, as you walk more closely to him.

“You are worth it.” You place his cold hands into yours, cupping as if you’re cradling. Trying to get to his eye-level, make him see that you were serious.

He doesn’t dare to glance your way, “Doesn’t matter.” Mike insists, slowly seizing his hands from your grasp, “Why bother trying only to fail? And then disappoint everyone all over again?” His nose was flaring, not wanting to lash his tongue at you, just at the idea of his addictions being the topic of discussion irks him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want help … it’s that hopeless sinking feeling, that he’s just incurable. A burden. A problem, masking pain with sarcasm and substance to numb it all. A demon clawing at his shoulder, spitting self-hate in his ear.

You’re just not worth the trouble, Mike.

As he stood up from the bed, stretching out his shirt, he noticed from the corner of his eye that you were staring at him worriedly. On instinct, pulling the mask down to cover his anguish once more.

“Wanna help me get dressed, sweetheart?” A curling faux self-confident smirk that was forced, you sniff out like a bloodhound. You immediately caught on the familiar behavior, a usual route for patients to cope out with defense mechanisms. You saw this tactic day in and day out.

But more importantly, it’s one you use too well.

“It may not feel like it now, but it’s not impossible. You’re not the first patient I had who felt this way.” You spoke with conviction, ignoring the insistent words ushered by doctors from the past that were ringing at the back of your head, you can't help someone if they don’t want to get help.

It’s not a martyr shtick, nor a God complex --- but how Mike looked so distressed and sickly as he was pulled in the hospital on the stretcher pained you straight in the heart, parallel to many others before.

“You never know if you don’t try.” You perk your hands on your hips, with an insisting stance. It wasn’t pushy, but Mike could tell you weren’t going to back down.

How you stood firmly with the hands perched on your curvous hips that strained subtly against the cotton uniform --- it was hot, how you stood your ground to him, yet no insulting persistence. Your bubble cheeks scrunching up so cutely. Mike just couldn’t help but be turned on, maybe it's your caring nature mixing into it.

Mike breathed through his nose, his head hung low, his hands sinking into the mattress. A sign of defeat, not entirely submitting, but how your words were honeyed with sterling sweetness got him to halt, and process how his life led up to here.

He glimpses through his long pretty lashes, “Alright --” He cheekily scans your name-tag, pretending he didn’t already memorized it from the moment you walked in.“Y/n. I’ll go. You’re pretty convincing. Maybe you should have been a lawyer too.”

“Oh --- you’re a lawyer, huh?”

“An unlikable one to be exact.”

You suck your teeth teasingly, “I highly doubt that. You seem likeable to me.” You pucker your bee-stung lips with jovial tease, as you tug on the curtain surrounding his bed to offer privacy, his eyes zero on your soft lips that glisten with chapstick sheen, his arms mid-frozen holding onto his articles of clothing.

“Now get dressed, and we’ll get you out of here.” You chuckle, only the shadow of your stihollute appears. Mike chuckles to himself, a little shake of his head, he liked you from the very start.

You knew the circumstances of dating an addict, from day one you knew the weight of his demons Mike carried on his back. He laid all his cards on the table, and you leaped into this life with him head-first.

But how could you not fall for him? His charm, his blunt wit, his intelligence, his kindness and that beautiful face? Only a fool would be blind not to be swooned off their feet for the one and only Mike Weiss. After the first -- rather intense --- first meeting, it was definitely not the last encounter for Mike and yourself.

After agreeing to go to a rehab program, Mike flirted with you immensely; along with requesting for you to accompany him on his first day. “For moral support.” he shrugged, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His first day was stoic, but with hushed side-commentary, and sly remarks. Muffling your laughter, you would poke his ribs, silently telling him to knock it off. It didn’t take long for an unusual friendship to develop. You really didn’t see it coming, and if Mike was to be honest, he didn’t either.

The realization of deep love was agnated to a love-drunk punch to the heart.

Days blurring into weeks into months with good morning and goodnight calls, late night conversations - those were the heart-shattering times. It was difficult for Mike to open up his layers, bottling his hurt inside to the point of shaking sobs at 3 am, clutching the phone.

Choppy incoherent words, spurts of feeling worthless. It began with you two having brunch which then led into dinner dates. Soon trust was earned, and you began hanging out at his house or your apartment.

A nurturing nurse and a sardonic lawyer becoming friends--his dry humor doesn’t rub you the wrong way, or how you don’t see it as obnoxious.

“Later when you take a shower, I’ll get you fresh sheets.” You murmur sweetly, as you finished massaging him. Mike slowly peels his eyes open, hooded and squinting. Your voice is silvery to his ears, it always appeases his darkest times --- like that hopeful light at the end of the tunnel.

Silently his eyes raked over your body, your hushed voice brought him back to reality. As he soaked in your appearance, Mike couldn’t stomach how tired you were, your eyes were droopy, your curls sloppily disrayed. As his eyes traveled from your exhausted face to your breasts that swelled over the past weeks to the ample bump protruding against your nightie.

Now entering into your second trimester.

Mike began silently crying, pinching his eyes shut as lone tears spilled down his cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. We’re getting through this, I’m so proud of you.” You kiss his wet cheeks, not minding the salty tears that kiss his eyes. Nimble sweet kisses, and cooing. You knew how hard he was working to get sober.

“You don’t need this shit.” Mike croaked, not daring to open his eyes, and see the pity in yours.

“Stop that. I love you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” You caress his cheeks by the gentle graze of your knuckles, shushing him. Lulling him to calm down from a pending panic attack.

You soft humming quills him, with only a sniffle here and there. You kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you.” Mike mutters under his breath. You giggle under your breath, feeling a bit bashful --- how can he make you so shy even after three years together?

You snivel a bit, biting back a sheen of tears, “And I love you too.” You’ll never get tired of saying that.

It’s been a long road, filled with bumps and turbulence. Many women would have left a long time ago, abandoning Mike at his lowest, but you just couldn’t. You’re too addicted to Mike, from the taste of him, to his scent, to the feel of his skin. His sharp tongue, and his humanity.

There was a moment in this journey that almost halted this life together, where you both had to address every bleeding crevice. It was a toxic mixture of your denial, and Mike’s instinct to push anyone close to him away.

It’s not that you didn’t want to help Mike, or face reality --- you were afraid. Scared that Mike was hurting himself, and all the progress you both built together was deteriorating at the seams, but then his honeyed words of promises of getting better would wrap your head in a rose-tinted daze.

Mike wasn’t trying to convince you, but himself. Just to chip off on the drugs, to keep himself afloat --- that this time it’ll be okay. He can balance his sanity, and his urges of substance that makes him feel ‘whole’. But that was just a temporary moment of brief delusion.

It was about three months ago, your shift at work was a tiresome blur, bustling on auto-pilot. The soles of your feet were aching, the nape of your back was droning in a dull pinch, and your eyes were slightly burning. Your worn body was screaming, and yearning for the comfort of your soft bed, and just to cuddle in Mike’s arms.

But there was a sense of … queasiness yet gleeful.

For days on end, you were puking in the early hours of the morning, your head hanging in the toilet. Waves of nausea, and finally, the nail in the coffin, you realized that your period was five weeks late. A hunch was hovering over your head, like a burning bright bulb. Finally, biting the bullet, and putting on your big girl pants, during a lunch break, you took a blood-test, and sent a cup of your urine to the labs for testing.

Once the results came back to you a few days later, you were speechless for the remainder of the day.

You were deary with worry, unable to conjure the words to form the discovery of yours. As you parked the car in-front of the house, cutting the engine off with the flick of your wrist, snatching the keys. Living with Mike has become a better part of your life, coming home to a person who loves you, and who would hold you, holding them. Grounding yourself back to earth in warmth, blending into one, melting your worldly problems away.

Reminding that you’re not alone.

With a groan, you weaved out of the car, locking it, and trekked up the walkway to the porch. Arching your arm, as your open-palm was rubbing your tail-bone as you waltzed to the front-door, thanking God and his angels that you were able to leave work early.

Dunking your hand in your bag, fumbling for your house-keys, mumbling under your breath as you blearily tried to conduct the proper way to tell Mike the truth, ansty and yet giddy at the toes --- to tell him you’re pregnant.

You always wanted a family, but over the years, the desired fantasy was slowly being strangled with dwindling hope, never really connecting to any soul --- until now, with Mike. Yawning mindlessly, you inserted a key into the lock, twisting, and opening the door.

“Mike, I’m home. I have something to tell you—” A cheery tone falters into silence.

Your foggy haze of exhaustion was smacked off your face, as you almost nearly stumbled off your own feet. Prejuticle vomit bubbling at the back of your throat, as startled eyes all look into you, you felt like a trespasser in your own home.

Witnessing a mass of people seated in your living room, snorting lines off the now stained and scratched coffee glass table, startled as they drink heavily and sloppily gulps liquor, as fogs of nicotine floods the air — staring at you with wide eyes.

Rooted in the middle sector of the couch, eyes bulging with fear, hot under the collar, was Mike himself, sniffling back remnants of coke deep into his nostrils, bare-chested in his red suspenders, and dress pants.

“That’s just great.” You mutter under your breath, a cracked sigh of breath; your jaw clicking to the side, Mike knows that tic very well. Your arms fall limply to your waist, as a gesture of defeat.

You walk away, exhaustion setting and resting in your bones, as your feet guide you upstairs. Begrudgingly so, an unbearable itch at the back of your throat, dying to just scream on the top of your lungs.

Scream and cry.

You can faintly hear Mike alert his friends to pack up and go, scuffling of footfalls and inebriated murmuring begin to flow out of the house. A few chuckles and finally …. it was silent, with the slam of the front door the only indicator that it’s just you and Mike — finally alone.

Fidgety fingers nearly tear the fabric off of you, tugging it off your body button by button with an edge of boiling rage, and a sheen of tears burning at the brim of your eyes. All the joy slowly zaps slowly out of your pores, now a dreary sadness now weighs on your shoulders.

Have I not done enough? To help Mike? Maybe my help wasn’t enough? Maybe his pain is too deep-rooted in him, maybe he has to push himself first to make the first move for recovery? Has he been lying all this time? Maybe he’s never been sober during the entire duration of the relationship?

You suspected it, felt the energy was off for quite some time, and yet you decided to play the love-sick fool dance the dance of denial.

A watery huff of a sigh. A dulling pain begins to throb and engulf your skull, an impending migraine just beyond the horizon. Clenching your jaw, nearly on the brink of grinding your teeth. A somber treading up the stairs looms near the bedroom, as you strip.

Dreading on what’s to come next, Mike was slowly walking to the bedroom, fearing a fight breaking out, worried that you’re going to leave him once and for all. But isn’t that what you wanted? For her to realize that you’re not good enough? Mike belittles and berates himself, as he is ever so delaying his steps.

Counting his steps like the sheeps to lull him at night, as he tries to collect his thoughts, already his tongue heavy with ale, ready to slur an apology. Trepidation beams at his brow, fearing the worse to come, that you’ll finally leave him.

His open-palm collides silently against the bedroom door, right on cue when he’s ready to push, he hears sniffles. Internally wincing at your pain, but like a bandage, he’s gotta rip it off.

Grovel on his knees, if he has to, kiss your feet like a goddess worshipped at an alter — anything for you not to hate him. Bringing strangers - swirly acquaintances - into your shared home, breaking your trust.

A creak of the hinges alerts you. Quickly wiping away your teary cheeks, you stand at your night-stand in nothing but your panties, straightening your hunched over form as you were sobbing into your folded clothes.

With a firm shove of the drawer, you close it, gripping your nightie in one hand, and the other clenching into a fist that hovers over your heart. Trying to level your breathing, not wanting to scare off Mike, you know that he’s hurting too.

You can feel his stare burning holes in the back of your skull.

“Mike, I’m just going to take a shower and head off to bed.” You turn your body around, now facing his mopey face, wanting desperately to just kiss him, and hug him. “I suggest putting a bottle of water at the night-stand to keep hydrated throughout the night, and a bucket to be precautious.” You force a forlorn smile, as you place the nightie on the bed.

Uncertain feet tap against the flooring, you walk hesitatingly at first, towards Mike, placing your palm on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against his skin. A kiss on his lips, ever so featherly soft. “I’m not mad. We’ll get through this.” You rub the tip of your nose against his sweetly.

Mike knows you’re not mad, it’s beyond that. Mad is just scratching the surface, his heart aches to see your eyes watery, and nearly splotchy pink at the rims. “I hate it when you do that.” Mike’s hoarse voice makes you flinch, as if it grated against your ears.

“Excuse me?” Your nose scrunches up, as your cheeks puff out. “Hate what exactly, Mike? Me supporting you bothers you?” You move away from him, sniffing back your tears, shaking a little at the hands, the back of your knees collide against the bed, softly thudding yourself against the mattress.

“No. You pretending you’re not mad. Pretending that everything is okay.” His nose flares, his chest heaving. Wanting to scream, for you to scream. Just let it all go. Too much is bottling like a ticking time bomb.

“But I’m not mad.” You hiss through your teeth.

“Yes the fuck you are! Admit it! Stop acting like a martyr for one moment, and just say it! Say how you really feel! Say I’m a junkie!”

“Stop it, Mike! You’re just a little …” You trail off, biting your tongue, before anything stupid or insensitive spills out. Forbidding any word to spew out, and hurt him. No matter how infuriated you are, you just couldn’t lash out at him.

“Like what? Fucked up? News flash, Y/n, I’m fucked up. Stop acting as if you can fix me! You act like I can just pick up my mistakes and move along.” Mike shouts, now pacing, practically burning a hole in the carpeting.

“Shut up! I was going to say high!” You hastily stand up to your feet, “And I’m so fucking sorry, that me loving you is a fucking problem. That I see you as you are, a fucking human being, not some addict. Because that’s not what defines you, but you want it to be. You can’t stand to see yourself as anything but.” You cry, your hands not knowing where to put them at, just shaking in mid-air.

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Mike barks in your face, tears ready to fall down his stubbled cheeks.

“No it’s not!” You stomp your foot, your toes curling into the carpet. “You refuse to let me in! Instead you seek comfort in strangers, come together to get high, and fuck it all!” Your hand weaves in the air, angrily gesturing; harshly slamming against your thigh.

“You don’t even fucking know me!” By now, his nose is connected to yours. He doesn’t know why he’s screaming at you, lashing you with his insecurities, but how you just won’t admit that this isn’t helping you either. You’re hurting too.

Jesus, his brain is muddled. Fried. He wants to cry, and beg your forgiveness for what he has said, fall to his knees and just hold you, but instead, here he is, shouting at you. He doesn’t feel like a man, he feels lower than dirt.

“Then let me get to know you! You only feed me scraps, thinking that can subdue me, I want you to open up to me!”

“Why? So you can get some self-satisfaction by helping a charity case?” Mike growled, it was a watery one. “I told you from day one, I’m not worth it!” Mike thrashes trinkets off the drawer with his hand, products and little figurines collide on the floor with a thud, “You don’t need this shit! You don’t need me!” Mike screams on the top of his lungs, now hunching over, falling on his knees, as you sink into yourself; covering your mouth from sobbing too loud.

Have you been coming off as pretentious? Pushing him to keep positive, kind affirmations every-day, reminding him to eat healthy, telling him he’s great no matter what, hovering over him to keep sober? Hovering too much? Pushing too hard?

But you couldn’t help it … you love him too much.

“But I need you.” It was a pitiful sob, his arched spine quivering, his shoulders tense, his fingers digging into the cotton fibers. Slowly, you kneel down, your fingers tentatively rub between his shoulder blades; Mike savoring the touch of your finger tips against his clammy skin.

Seconds felt like minutes, biting your lip as you kept rubbing and soothing him, it always helped him calm down. Finally he spoke up, and what he will say will break your heart, “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?” Mike choked on a sob, his head bobs a bit to sniffle.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Baby …” You cry, finally a heavy waterfall crashes down. Holding him, your chest against his sculpted back, “Please talk to me. I don’t want to lose you.” Wet little kisses on him, mumbling, “Please tell me.” Fresh tears water his back.

“I love you too much to pull you down. To my own hell. It’s not right. You’re too pure.” Mike picks his head up, your hands cup his cheeks. Your brows furrowing, shaking your head at him.

“I need you.” You whispered. “I will go to bat in Hell, for you. Sock Satan in the mouth if I have too.” You chuckle, and luckily, he chuckles too with that cute signature Weiss smirk.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I just …” Mike hung his head, sighing. Hating that he lied for months, he was doing good, he was clean for a period of time. But he got hit with a big case, and the stress got too much.

Drugs were easier than asking for help.

“Then why did you keep pushing me away?” You tilted your head, to manage eye contact. You never wanted to push him too hard just to open up to you. Knowing that it only could make him crawl deep inside himself.

“Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.” Mike rubs his cheek against yours, “I never had anyone love me, never held anything good.” Mike blubbered.

“I love you for you. Flaws and all. I’m here for the long haul.” Blinking back wet lashes, you lean in more against his face, with a gentle squeeze of his cheeks in the cusp of your hands.

“I love you too.” It was simply sweet. Shy, even. Mike nudges his face against yours, his lips trailing down your pulse point. Your ultimate weakness.

Mike hedges himself at the knees, as he engulfs your nude body in his arms; as you wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss the joint of his jaw, and with ease, Mike lifts you by his palms on your ass, standing upward with you in his grasp.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper in his ear, “Come take a shower with me.” Caressing your face against his, Mike nodded silently. With quiet steps, and two hearts beating against one, Mike waltzes into the bathroom.

With his fore-arm holding you by the bum, his free hand unzipped himself, the click of his zipper made you quiver underneath your skin. His enchanting warmth shoved your secret in the back burner of your mind, but the journey of it twisting and morphing made you worried — slowly your concern of the possibility of losing the father of your unborn baby was temporarily replaced with touch starvation.

Like a balm to a gashing wound.

It was there but subtle, and quiet. Awaiting it’s time to arise at an unexpecting time, to snatch your heart and squeeze.

The shower was warm and inviting, it helped a little clear Mike’s stuffy sinuses. Your fingers twirling and massaging in Mike’s chest hair, as you both cling onto each other as a life-line. Mike kissed the middle of your brows, as his hands were unwavering from your body.

Silence --- the type that doesn’t need to be filled with unnecessary chatter --- comfortable --- speaking louder than words. His tears blending into the spraying water, and his small tremors were the signs that he was genuinely sorry; and with open arms, you forgive him.

Bathing each other has always been a favorite of yours, so intimate, the soapy sensation of wet skin, the intense eye contact — how perfectly his forehead connects with yours. How soft your touch is against his sex, coddling and cleaning him with care and precision.

Mike rubs the soapy sponge against the terrain of your shoulder blades, trailing down the arch of your spine leaving electric kisses down your spine. A breathy gasp at this welcoming intrusion of Mike seeping the sponge between your asscheeks.

Small lathery cadence intermixing with your wanton moans, as your fingernails scratch slightly against Mike’s back. Mike groaned, it felt so good — the smooth and slippery scratches made him hiss, it was a good pinch of pain.

Cheeky as ever, you slipped your hands to cup his his toned ass; Mike chuckled, mumurming under his breath, his pink lips against your soaked dome, “Greedy brat.” This wasn’t an escape from your issues, clearly both of you need to open the air to discuss your emotions --- a needed shower for two was a nice reprieve from the emotional turmoil.

To clear your heads.

After the shower, and moisturizing, helping Mike into bed, you were braiding your hair, but you were unusually silent. It was time to tell him … now or never. His finger curls against your bare back, fiddling with the thin silk straps against his tips.

You turn your face, your palm holding his fingers. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” Mike spoke quietly, as he laid his back against the headboard. His twirling fingers put you a little ease, but it’s not enough, you have to speak up.

“I have to tell you something …” You trail off, your tone puts him at unease. Your gaze is lowered, Mike shifts his hand away, and perks it underneath your chin.

Making you look at him, with a calm poker-face, Mike insists you, with the soft whisper of your name. Biting your lower lip, his thumb quickly tugging it down. “I’m — I’m pregnant.” Wide eyes gawk into Mike’s own widen orbs, wide as dinner plates.

His breathing got heavy, and soon choppy. You quickly put your hand over his heart, shushing him. “It’s going to be okay. Baby, it’s going to be okay.” A lone tear trails down your cheek, thinking of the worst, you believe Mike is going to bolt out of your life out of fear.

“Is that … ” Mike swallows, “Is that what you wanted to tell me earlier?” His chin wobbles, as you nod, unable to speak. His eyes lower to your flat tummy, hesitantly he cups your belly. His fingers caressing the silk clad skin, he began to cry. Just unraveling in your hold.

That night, you held him tight, and he clung to you tightly; his head laid on your stomach, his tears shedding against your nightie. Mike felt …. scared. Throughout the night, he would mumble that he wasn’t good dad material, but you always tell him, “You’re going to be great.”

That was four months ago, and throughout those four months, Mike was up and down, on and off of drugs, but finally … he stopped. He cried when he first heard your baby’s heartbeat, that’s when he began his rocky path back to sobriety.

Four months of self-hate, sometimes he would leave his journals open for you to read, he couldn’t properly express himself verbally, but in writing, he said it all. He was afraid of the rehab campus’, he preferred your expertise and comfort to nurse him back.

But he couldn’t do this to you, your pregnancy shouldn’t be a stressful one. He knows what he must do.

Mike opened his eyes once more, coming back to reality. Four months and he’s still here. “I’m ready.” His voice was small, yet confident. As if a surge of power consumed his body. His eyes shine with determination.

You were taken back, “Ready for what?” You ask nervously. You bite down on your bottom lip, a little habit you have yet to kick, you would bite your lip till it cracked and bleed.

“To go back to rehab. I gotta do this right.” You hold back a sob, kissing his forehead. “I want to do right for our baby.” Mike weakly smiles, you smile back. You can already envision your shared future, how Mike will protect and love your child. Happy and healthy, no longer fearing the shadow of death lingering near him.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as their daddy.” With the tips of your fingers, grazing his jaw, you lean down for a kiss. It’s a wispy yet passionate kiss. Sending electric waves down Mike’s spine.

“God, I love you.” Mike mumbles against your lips.

Mike Weiss, lawyer, ex-addict, a lover and a father. Oh, how lucky you are to have him, and how blessed he feels to have you.