#like they got this and that right then got this and that wrong then TOTALLY MISSED this and that

[neodazed]

enhypen - 🎀 - grinding/dry humping

ot7xfem!reader - grinding and dry humping

warnings: grinding, dry humping (wow the shock), clothed sex, thigh/knee-riding, hand-riding, nose-humping, abs too, mentions of doing it on objects, some might be executed slightly painful, not all humps are dry tho, lmk if i missed smth!

biggest kisses and hugs to every oral-fixation enjoyer out there 💋 can’t believe it got 600 notes ! also, i wanted to say that i’ll gladly take requests, but i’m a person who takes their time and def puts their brain-bugs first. have fun reading !

HEESEUNG

The first time Heeseung kisses you out of pure impatience, so rough his nose quite literally smashes onto yours, you know that’s something you will ride one day.

Obviously, you weren’t wrong.

But it’s not like you could just ask him bluntly — hey, you’re nose is so perfect, can I ride it? You didn’t have that much of a filthy mouth on you, no. You needed an ideal situation, which where you both were lost and loose enough to flew towards that direction.

So, back in the present, you’re already sitting on his face. The only fabric still “covering” you is the partially unclapped white bra, that Heeseung was too impatient to discard entirely, resulting in a annoyed huff, and just leaving it hanging off your tits, before grabbing your thighs in a harsh grip, and pulling you over his face.

Familiar it was, how your pussy enveloped mostly his chin and lips, a thing you’ve done countless times since you got together. The usual, practiced moves of his tongue licking your walls till the deepest parts he could possibly reach. His mouth closing around your clit, sucking so hard to the point you cried from both pleasure and faint pain. Sometimes, he liked to act like a jerk, and force you to stay in place, so that the joy you recieved was completely controlled and minimized by him, but truly, deep down, he was drunk. So high from how you taste, smell, and feel, all he wanted was to lay there and let you bounce on his face until he suffocates.

Totally normal about it.

Again, you’ve taken your well-deserved place. Your grip on his hair is tight and stable, as you lift your hips up and down in a repeating motion, sliding his warm muscle in and out of your pulsing hole. He groans into you, sending all the right vibrations, finger trying to rub your hard nub. When you push a little harder, paying a little less attention to wether he gets to breathe or not, you slide up enough that your clit brushes against the tip of his nose, and it’s so good you forgot everything you’ve thought out before. Your movements become intentional and directed, and his hand drops to his side by the newfound force. He waits a little, before grabbing your hips to pull away, his expression amused.

He’s smirking.

“If you like my nose so much, why don’t just sit on it all together?”

Your face reddens, realizing how obvious you have been. Is there a point of denying now though? Absolutely none. He gives a more soft, confirming nod, actually encouraging. You sit back, now in a position that allows his nose to go in between your puffy lips.

You don’t let yourself down entirely, but he doesn’t take your nice values happily, he grunts and pushes you down. Whimpers leave your mouth as you grind your clit without hesitation this time, a mantra of his name, gratitude to every god in the sky that let you have this moment. Crying out is an understatement to the noise you let out when the tip of his nose somehow manage to push past your ring. The bump rubs your insides in an unusal, yet mouth watering way. It’s Heeseung.

He’s the one slobbering over this, feeling like he’s on the edge of fucking heaven, and you’re about to send him through the gate by choking him into afterlife with your cunt.

Turns around it’s both of yours thing, afterall.

JAY

It was supposed to be a simple makeout session after dropping you off at home.

But then you started to stroke the back of his head with your cute little nails, opening your mouth wider, arching into his touch more, and before you could blink, you were in his lap.

However, he still holds back as much as he can, knowing you have to part ways eventually. He strokes your waist in a gentle manner, not pushing or pressing at all.

The problem is?

Those fucking jeans he decided to put on today. For anyone else, it looks and is like a simple pair of black denim jeans, and you are glad for that, honestly. Because thank god no one expect you stared at Jay enough to obsess over how the baggy pants got so tight in the place that mattered the most in this moment. You don’t even want to deny how you’ve been ogling at the bulge in his lap.

And that was him soft.

You must have a sixth sense, that made you wear a skirt today. As you lean onto his body, and lick into his warm mouth, it’s incredibly easy to just put your covered wetness on said bulge. He groans into the kiss, pulling back for a minute.

“We don’t have time to have sex now…” Is what he whispers, the words sounding almost painful coming from him, and you chuckle, continuing the kiss.

“We don’t have to” The short sentence is made in bits, taking a second for a sloppy kiss in between every word. He’s a tiny bit skeptical, but now so turned on he doesn’t protest.

He’s big enough to press against you in the right angle even through the tight material. It feels so big, so hot, so hard it makes a point itch somewhere deep inside of you. Your panties made of lace, and the fabric you try to so needily grind on make such an uncomfortable mix you’re not even sure how does it still feels so good.

It’s similar to a few things you did in the past, when you were single and inexperienced. Like humping a pillow, spraying cold water onto your clit on the hardest pressure, or grinding yourself back and forth on the arm of your chair.

Expect, now you’re not just dumbly chasing pleasure. It’s with Jay, who is kissing you so hard it bruises your bottom lip. With Jay, who guides you back and forth on his dick with his grip on your hips. With Jay, who pulls your soaked panties aside, and spits on your cunt you’ve rubbed raw by this point to make the slide easier, not caring if it also lands on his clothes. You already dirtied him with your slick, anyways.

It’s with Jay, who lets you explore and have your fun for a while, before getting frustrated and unbuckling his belt. The zipper he tries to pull down fastly grazes your lips, and you hiss, but immediatelly forget about it when his dick gets shoved into you the next second.

JAKE

It’s late in the evening.

The light breeze flowing in through the slightly opened window is a small sort of relief to your body, heated from the oppressive summer air and from the sight of your shirtless boyfriend laying next to you.

You are both tired - it’s obvious. Hazy eyes, short yawns, giggling about literally anything that happens in the late night glow, while you are wrapped up in each others presence.

But you can’t just go to sleep. Not like this, not when he is kissing so softly inside of the part connecting your neck and shoulders. When he reaches down to see if you’re also aroused, and it’s not just him growing needy despite the tiredness glooming over both of you.

He finds you wet, obviously. He smiles against your lips, proud of himself, and probably because he is a little out of it. Helps you kneel up just enough so that he can flatten his palm perfectly to cup your heat. He is way too spent to do his usual teasing, and the same goes for you. You make a silent agreement to just take.

His hand and forearm is strong, they don’t even budge as you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth. You always loved them, to be honest. They’re big enough to envelope your smaller ones, his fingers are long and veiny, and it all screams perfection. He adds just the slightest pressure with one of his long digits to your clit, a motivation to go faster.

To hump the fuck out of it, basically.

But it wouldn’t be Jake if he wasn’t a whiny mess himself - he doesn’t ask for your palm, he just grabs it, and wraps it around his cock. He fucks your fist in a messy pace, no rhythm whatsover, sometimes yanking your arm so hard your own pace falters. Or the opposite, and he gets you in a position where the knuckles of his fingers press on your covered slit in a way that sends you to the edge right away.

‘S-so good, baby. Gonna come all over my hand? Gonna fuck yourself on it?’

Both of you do exactly that.

SUNGHOON

Black tank top+gray sweats+Sunghoon after his gym session?

Either have him now, or die, you think.

He’s sitting in front of you, with a towel loosely hanging around his neck.

The way his thigh strains beneath the thin fabric makes your mouth water, quite literally. All you can think about is having that taut muscle pressed between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the fabric until it starts to ache — from both the frustration and the roughness of the material.

Then your gaze travels up to his torso, watching as the black tank top clings to his slightly sweaty muscles, outlining everything perfectly for your hungry eyes. You have to bite the inside of your cheek just to stop a moan from slipping out at the sight alone.

Of course, Sunghoon isn’t stupid — and by now, he knows you well enough to read your mind. Not that your lust-drunk expression left much to the imagination anyway. He smiles at your reaction, before pulling you into his lap.

‘Sit, pretty’ He pats his wide spread thighs for you.

He starts kissing you — hot, demanding. In contrast, his fingers are gentle as they caress your thigh, moving slowly up and down, occasionally slipping just beneath the edge of your shorts. You sigh under his touch, and your own hand sets off on a little adventure — though it’s a short one, since it only gets as far as his cock. He smiles into the kiss, grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand away. A frustrated little growl escapes your lips, making him chuckle softly.

‘What happened? The way you were staring, I thought you were planning to cum on my thigh.”

He says with a smug grin, pushing you back slightly in his lap.

You lift your hips for just a moment, letting him slide your shorts and panties down. With the layers gone, the hardness of his thigh sends even more pleasure surging through you, pressing perfectly against your pulsing wetness.

‘Damn. You’d really ride anything I give you. Are you that desperate for me, Love?’ You don’t have the energy to huff at his words, because truly, you really are that desperate.

You must be quite the shameless sight, reaching down with one hand to part your outer lips just enough to grind your clit directly against him. You can’t say it isn’t a little embarrassing — but the arousal far outweighs the discomfort. You’re wet, of course you are, and every forward motion makes everything even slicker.

Sunghoon watches your little performance with amused, mischievous eyes. He’s already rock hard beneath his sweatpants, but watching you struggle, rubbing your swollen clit against his thigh like that, was just too entertaining to stop you.

‘Mhm, that’s it, baby. Make that dirty cunt cum over my pants.’

And you do.

SUNOO

Sunoo always has nerve-wracking punishments that make you question, time and time again, why you decide to piss him off in the first place.

Of course, not enough to stop you from doing it anyway.

Yet you haven’t even done a single thing wrong — you simply showed your own little cute, polite self when you returned the male waiter’s courteous smile at the restaurant.

Apparently, you can’t smile out of pure politeness anymore — you note out loud, after Sunoo makes you strip naked in front him. Your snarky comment only makes him roll his eyes. Of course even now, you can’t fucking shut up. Your smile instantly fades when he suddenly reaches between your legs, to press his palm onto your flesh. He scoffs at your reaction.

‘I’m scolding your nasty behaviour, and you’re fucking getting off on it?’ You stumble on your feet, and quickly take a hold of his shoulder as you shrug as an answer to his question. It wasn’t meant to be answered. Sunoo pulls back, leaning against the armchair he is sitting in. He is still fully dressed, in black denim pants, and now half-way unbuttoned white shirt. His flashed collarbone and chest, combined with the angry look on his face is simply delicious to your eyes. He pats his knees for you to sit, so you comply. Your first move is to lean onto his mouth, but he grabs your jaw and stops you.

‘I didn’t say you can kiss me’ You sigh. Alright, typical. Should’ve thought so. Your next go is at his crotch, but when he also yanks you back from there, you are left dumbfounded.

‘You’re really that stupid? You don’t get to have my mouth, dick, or fingers, baby’ Oh, okay. So this is the punishment this time.

‘So…what are we doing then?’ You sigh, biting your lip. You are needy, he literally stripped you down, and you are sitting in his lap. There’s no way he just wants to sit around and make you suffer…Right?

‘I didn’t tie your hands, did I? Get yourself off somehow, but do it without my help’ And his cock, mouth and fingers, as he said. As you think about what should you do, you shift on his legs, trying to get more comfortable, and now, you don’t know if he does on purpose or purely accidental, but his knee also adjusts in the same moment, and slides right under your core. And that’s more than enough to inspire you.

You rest your paws on his thigh, to steady yourself. You pull your hips back a little, so your pussy is just right in front of his knee, then push back. The sensation is immediate, though it’s a mix of strange and good. The fabric of his jeans is rough, obviously not meant to be, well, rubbed on, but it’s not like a flicker (or some more) of pain is not something you love in the first place. With the pace you settled on, the humping movement makes you whine, bumping your clit against the bones of his knee again and again. It’s still not enough though, Sunoo can see it very clearly on your face, hear it dripping through your pathetic little sounds.

There’s no warning before he holds your hips down, and moves his knee up. You whimper rather loudly, naked chest slumping against Sunoo’s, grabbing onto his arms.

‘S-sunoo, that hurts’

‘Hurts? You don’t want me to stop though, do you?’ He smirks, knowing the answer damn well is a desperate ‘no’.

His knee spreads your pussy apart as much as possible, the hardest part continously dragging up your slit and against your clit everytime he pushes up. You let out a hiss. Your lips, your slit, the entrance of your hole, your bundle of nerves…they’re all red and swollen puffy of the harsh material rubbing against you. You are almost crying, when you release over his clothes, your liquid dirtying his expensive jeans.

‘Thought this would be a good punishment, but of course you enjoyed it.’

JUNGWON

Jungwon’s family home had ridiculously thin walls, and it didn’t help that his parents’ bedroom was just two doors down.

Knowing all that, you probably shouldn’t have made out with the poor boy like crazy the first time you stayed over — but what’s done is done.

You pulled away before things could go too far, and now the two of you lie next to each other, breathing heavily.You turn over, as if not seeing his face might somehow calm the desire burning in you — or in him.You feel him shift too, the slow, deliberate way he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in the curve of your neck.You let out a relieved sigh, thinking maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fall asleep like this — in this soft, sweet little moment.

Then his hips move.

At first, you try to tell yourself he’s just shifting to get comfortable — but by the third slow grind, it’s hard to keep up that narrative.

‘Won. What are you doing?’ You tilt your head back slightly to look him in the eyes, whispering. The boy shakes his head while a delicate blush spreads across his cheeks.

‘I c-can’t help it. I need to feel you right now’ He says in a desperate tone, now grinding with intent against your ass.

You want him too, how could you not? You haven’t been able to do much since you got together yet, but the desire and chermisty is definietly there. You feel it everytime you meet, everytime you touch, everytime you look at him. Obviously, you’re not about to have sex now. It’s not the place or time to do it, but still…

You can’t say no.

You take a shaky breath. The fingers that were resting on his hand now travel further, stroking his arm that is wrapped around your middle. Not with the most confidence, though just as eager as him, you push back. Feeling his bulge press against your backside and thighs is not that new. But the impatient, hurried pace of it pressing onto you is, and you think it must be good for him.

Good, but is it enough?

You need more. You need his growing member on a place that is pulsing for him, unsure yet open at the same time.

The only thing you’re wearing are boxers and panties, so when you suddenly decide to turn on your other side, he’s not prepared to back up even a little bit, and his cock presses forward, but now onto your pussy, covered by the very thin layer of underwear. Your hand slaps on his mouth almost right way, to stifle the loud noise you know he’s about to make.

You keep one of your hands there, even when Jungwon rolls on top of you, to rub his leaking hardness harshly. He’s obviously frustrated, the layer of his briefs being the reason, since you have gotten so wet your panties almost make no difference in the process. He grunts, and frees his dick, reassuring you when he sees the doubtful look on your face.

‘I won’t do anything else. Just want to feel you better’

It’s messy. Full of pre-cum, slick, and slight sweat, a mix of fluids making the slide so hard. If he was inside, he would he in heaven now. He’s not though, and the slippery mess you have created together only makes his annoyence grow, his grip on you tighter, and the press of his hips unhuman, both in pace and strength.

If there was unresolved sexual tension between the two of you before, now there’s a whole bomb ticking for more.

RIKI

‘I had something in mind’ Is what you whisper into Riki’s mouth when you pull away to breath for a second.

At first, his brain doesn’t really register that you said something, and instead of an answer, he kisses you again. Making out with Riki is quite similar to a fever dream, you think. Relatively slow, but the intensity doesn’t lay in the pace he sets. It’s a nerve-wrecking build up of plump lips, firm hands and wetness.

Both of you like it sloppy.

You try to gently push him away by his chest, and he listens this time.

‘Yeah? What is it?’ He did listen at first too, he was just too into it.

You are not that embarassed to say it, of course. You and him make a couple who are both got a rather high sex drive, and Riki was certainly never afraid to voice his thoughts on new things you could try. You, on the other hand, might be a bit more shy to just blurt them out. You’re not ashamed of wanting it, but your boyfriend is so good at keeping that damn eyecontact, and that cocky smirk on his lips still, that you can’t help but get flustered at times like this.

‘It might be a little weird’

You tuck your hair behind your ears. The muscles of his face are already twitching, but he suprisingly manages to stay serious.

‘Weird to me? Or to you?’ His fingers stroke from your hips to the underside of your chest repeatedly, making it kinda hard to think.

‘To you. I think’ His expression turns amused, but he doesn’t comment anything else, looking forward to hear it finally.

‘I though I could like…you know. Your abs’ You don’t say the word ‘ride’. You don’t really want to, and you already have been grinding on his clothed cock, so the idea might give itself, hopefully.

‘You gotta be more specific than that, baby.’

Asshole.

‘Like…grind on it.”

He stills for a moment, shocked that you actually said that out loud. Then he nods, and peels his shirt of fin a swift motion. The perfect pattern of his abs are revealed to your eyes, your mouth runs dry at the sight. His broad shoulders, biceps, veiny forearms and hands…the well built six pack on his stomach is a perfect match to complete the beautiful man that he is.

He lays on his back on the couch, his upper body flexing in the movement. Since there was no question and he seemed to be on board, you decide not to give him any more chance to tease you, so without another word, you quickly shimmy your undies down, and straddle him.

Biggest beige flag?

‘When his abs are so well defined you can cum by rubbing your cunt on it’.

Yes, that’s pretty random yet you love it.

You have to part your outer lips to feel him, and he is quite mesmerized by the view he is blessed with.

‘Such a pretty pussy for me, hm?’

Now you are glad he is talking, his voice sends waves of pleasure through your body, and it all comes out in the form of your wetness gathering between your legs. You try your best to have a stable grip, but you keep on slipping on his abdomen. He huffs, grabbing your hips and fixing you. He starts to guide you, pressing you down so hard the only thing you can do is moan.

‘It’s a bit funny, no? You’re so needy for me. You want to ride everything I have’ He lets out a low chuckle. Your face turns red.

“And you let me do it. That makes you just as needy, no?’

He smiles, and drags you down for a kiss.

‘Not my fault I have such a freaky girl on me.’

bae @ziiao

[writeriguess]

Hi lovely! Can I request Reader suddenly finding out Katsuki liked to be degraded, like maybe she jokingly calls him a “slut” and sees how he’s affected, so she tries to be mean to him in bed and he is waaay into it (if you’re comfortable of course)

Good Boy Gone Bad

You don’t mean to say it.

It slips out between panting breaths, between the messy kisses and the way his hands are gripping your hips like he’s trying to leave bruises there. Katsuki has you pressed into the mattress, arms caging you in, his lips moving hot and frantic against yours, and it’s got your head all fuzzy, drunk on him, on the way he’s all over you.

And then, when he grinds down, rutting against you like he needs it, like he’d die if he didn’t—

It just comes out.

"Fuck, you’re such a slut."

It’s supposed to be a joke. A teasing little quip to match the desperate way he’s moving against you, to call him out for how shameless he is right now.

But then—

Katsuki freezes.

Not in the usual way when he’s about to snap at you, no livid glare or oi, what the fuck? Instead, his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, his whole body goes taut, like he’s just been struck by lightning. His grip on your hips tightens, his head drops forward, and then—

He groans.

Low. Guttural.

Like he liked it.

You blink, staring up at him, the realization dawning slow but heavy. You watch the way his ears turn pink, how his breath comes out shakier than before.

Oh.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Wait a second,” you breathe, your lips stretching into a wicked little grin. You press a hand to his chest to push him up just enough to look at him properly. "Did you just—?"

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki snaps, but his voice is all wrong—rough, weak, like you caught him in the middle of something dirty. His eyes dart away, and he looks like he regrets everything.

You laugh. You can’t help it.

“Oh my god.” Your grin widens. “You like that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You so do.”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t—”

“You totally do,” you coo, your hands sliding up his arms, then curling around his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “You like being called a slut, don’t you?”

His jaw clenches.

You watch his throat work as he swallows thickly, his breath shaky, his hands still gripping your hips like he’s fighting himself—fighting how much he wants it.

You press closer, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, and you drop your voice into something mocking.

“Oh, you love it, don’t you, baby?” you whisper, just to see what he’ll do.

And that’s when you feel it.

His hips jerk.

Hard.

His fingers dig into your skin like he’s trying to anchor himself, and then another one of those wrecked little groans escapes his throat, unbidden, unfiltered, and—

Oh.

He really likes it.

Your grin turns dangerous.

"God, you’re so pathetic," you taunt, dragging your nails down his chest, relishing the way he shudders. "Grinding all over me like a needy little bitch. You can't even hide how bad you want it, can you?"

"Fuck," he chokes out, his hands flying up to grip your wrists, like he’s trying to get you to stop—but he’s hard as a rock, and his breathing is all over the place, and he looks like he might just die if you stop.

You giggle.

"Katsuki," you purr, tilting your head, dragging your fingers up his throat just to feel it work under your touch. "You’ve been hiding this from me? Hiding how much you love being talked down to like the desperate little thing you are?"

"Shut up," he groans, but his voice is all breathy, all wrecked, like he’s barely holding it together.

"Make me," you challenge.

His hands fly to your waist, flipping you onto your back so fast it makes your head spin, and he’s on you in an instant—hot, hungry, feral.

But then—his lips pause against your skin, and his breath stutters, like he’s waiting.

You smirk, dragging your nails down his back.

"Good boy," you murmur.

And that’s all it takes.

He loses it.

His whole body shudders.

And then—he’s on you.

Katsuki doesn’t waste a second. He crashes his lips against yours, swallowing the laughter bubbling up in your throat, his grip on your hips punishing. He’s kissing you like he wants to ruin you, like he wants to devour every breath you have left—but the way his body trembles against yours?

He’s the one falling apart.

"Oh?" You gasp between kisses, your hands tangling in his hair, yanking him back just enough to see him. His pupils are blown, his breath ragged, and fuck, he's already so gone. "You liked that, huh? Liked being my good boy?"

Katsuki growls, but it’s weak. His hands twitch against your waist, like he wants to deny it—like he should deny it—but then your fingers tighten in his hair, and he whines.

Whines.

"God, you’re pathetic," you murmur, dragging your lips down his jaw, nipping at his skin, feeling the way his breath stutters. "Acting all tough, but the second I get mean, you're melting in my hands like a desperate little thing."

"Fuck," he hisses, his head dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you. His whole body is taut, shaking, like he’s holding back.

Like he’s trying so fucking hard not to just give in.

But you won’t let him fight it.

You drag your nails down his back, slow, teasing, then slip your hand between your bodies, palming him through his pants. His hips jerk, a broken moan ripping from his throat, and you giggle.

"Look at you," you coo, rubbing slow, lazy circles over the growing heat between his legs. "You're not even trying to pretend anymore. So easy to break, aren’t you?"

He trembles.

“You love this,” you murmur, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his ear. “You love when I make you feel like a slut, don’t you, baby?”

His breath hitches.

You can feel him losing control, his whole body going taut above you, barely keeping himself together, and it makes you feel so powerful.

“Say it.”

Katsuki shakes his head, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Fuck—fuck, I—”

You yank his head back, forcing him to look at you. His face is flushed, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and fuck, he looks so wrecked already.

Your smirk is cruel.

“Say it, or I stop.”

His whole body twitches.

And then, in a voice so hoarse, so needy, it nearly breaks you—

“I—” His breath stutters, his jaw clenches, and then—

“I love it.” His voice cracks, desperate, barely a whisper. “I fucking love it.”

And god, he looks so ashamed.

But you can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s gripping you like he needs you, in the way he’s already so far gone—

He doesn’t want you to stop.

Your grin is wicked.

“Good boy.”

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 4 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 9.8k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

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1200

Y/N finally looked at her phone again. It was little past twelve and she had a moment to breathe. Opening her phone, she saw a few messages. One from Jack around a few minutes ago: “Jesus, dove, woke up to this novel of a text. Sounds good about dinner. I’ll grab ingredients soon. Dogs are good. Going to walk them in a bit. About Dolly, send me a link, but can’t promise anything. We have four already…  Just be smug to Robby back and put him in his place. Beckett can crash, but can we talk before he comes? Just need to debrief with you. Let Beckett know that the guest bed is made, but if he leaves his socks in the kitchen again, I’m going to make him clean the bathroom. Talk soon.”

            She nodded, reading it before going to the next message that was from Beckett. “Fire. Talked to Mom a few days ago. She met a lad at the legion and now thinks she has found her soulmate. Let’s see how long this one lasts…”

            Y/n chuckled, nodding before closing her phone. Robby gathered everyone and debriefed with them all about charting. It was a standard lecture about how to improve patient satisfaction scores, to get the hospital more money and to be through with diagnosing.

            Y/N finally got the tests results back for Nick Riley, glancing over them, she sighed. The kid did OD over fentanyl. Basically the same age as Beckett.

            “Robby,” Y/N said, getting up and walking over to him. She was wearing a cardigan now, a hot pink one, due to her being cold. “Nick Riley’s cerebral perfusion study is back,” she told him, handing him the tablet.

            She watched him take a deep breath as he glanced over the tablet to see the results. A loud sigh came before subtle nods. “No blood flow past the brain stem. Ok,” he muttered, looking over at her. “How are you holding up?” he asked, sending her a silent nudge.

            Y/N stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. Grand. Good,” she muttered and shook her head lightly. “A lot of death today.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Jack had a rough night as well,” he explained.

            Y/N nodded. “Must be a full moon,” she mumbled. “Or a retrograde.” He just stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “How are you holding up, Chief?” she asked. “You don’t usually work this day. I’ve been caught up with my shit and didn’t think about you. Just checking in.”

            He stared at her for a moment, debating whether to talk, but thought not to. “Just another day in paradise,” he responded. “I’m fine,” he added as she stared at him for a moment with a raised brow. “You sound like Dana.”

            “We are cut from the same cloth,” Y/N replied, sending a smirk. “What do you want me to do with Nick?” she asked, going back to work.

            “Let me know when the transplant people from CORE arrive,” he said to her.

            “Yeah, totally,” she replied before turning away and leaving to check on her patients.

            Y/N was so close to winning the bet, but Collin’s got her by one factor. She had crash and the catch wrong, which Collin’s got right. Robby made fun of her for a bit, saying she did her calculations wrong, but Y/N shoved it off. She muttered something like, “Better at counting cards than making bets. There’s a mathematical equation to it which you can never get wrong when you do it correctly.”

            Dana and Robby just stared at her as if she had two heads.

            The ER was in its usual state of chaos, monitors beeping, sneakers squeaking, call lights flashing, trauma bay doors opening and swinging. It was just another day. Busy, hectic and chaotic.

            Y/N was standing leaning against the counter lightly as she wrote something on the computer. Her reading glasses on her nose as she ran a hand down her face. She was focused, humming lowly under her breath some song that Jack showed her a few days ago. He was about educating her on real music, whatever that meant.

            Robby approached her. “How many cups of coffee have you had?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “I don’t know. Maybe four,” she muttered, not thinking. “Did you get me one? I would love you forever. I didn’t sleep last night.”

            He stared at her, but she was focused on the computer.

            “You know, you’re only supposed to have two cups of coffee a day max while pregnant,” he whispered, leaning into her. Y/N slowly glanced up to him, face falling.

            “Fuck,” she whispered.

            “How far along are you?” he asked, raising a brow.

            “Seven weeks,” she whispered back. “Oh my God,” she whispered again, “the fetal heart rate is going to be increasing, and it could impair oxygenation. It can also increase a miscarriage.” She was whispering more to herself. She glanced down at the floor, trying to calm herself. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered, voice filled with worry.

            Robby instantly softened. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly, voice gentle but steady. “Hey, hey, breathe, Ace.”

            She nodded, but her hand was already on her stomach like could somehow undo the caffeine with her palms. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even – fuck, Robby, what if I messed something up?” Her voice cracked on the last word, quiet but filled with a rising panic she didn’t often allow anyone to see.

            “You didn’t,” he said firmly. “Y/N, just stop, ok? Deep breaths. It’s not like you shot espresso into your veins through an IV. Four cups ins’t great, but its not catastrophic.”

            She bit down her lip, looking at him through wide, glassy eyes. “I know better, though. I fucking know better.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, you do. But you also haven’t slept. You’ve been working all week and you’ve been carrying this secret around, trying to function like nothing has changed. You’re stressed. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you human.”

            Her eyes dropped again, and she gave him a small nod. “Thanks, Robby,” she hummed.

            “Where’s that giant water bottle you carry around? The pink one? Let me fill it with water and electrolytes, vitamins and all that jazz. Get you hydrated,” he said with a smile, patting her on the back.

            “It’s at my station,” she replied. “Thanks.”

            He nodded. “Anytime. But before I do that, I do need your advice on something,” he told her, looking at her.

            Y/N nodded. “Yeah, shoot.”

            “It’s really weird and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. I don’t know if you’ve seen something like this or read about it…”

            She slowly nodded, pressing save on the chart she was working on and turning her full attention to him. “Talk to me.”

            “There’s a woman who came in this morning. Nausea, vomiting, lightheaded, fatigue, that sort of thing. Vitals were fine. Blood work clean. Nothing to show what was happening. With a few questions, she finally admitted that she had taken an induced vomiting drug. Made herself sick to get here.”

            Y/N raised a brow. “Factitious Disorder?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

            He shook his head. “Thought that, but no. She wants help. Told me her son is planning on killing some schoolgirls.”

            Y/N’s face doesn’t change, instead she just stared at him. “Repeat that?”

            Robby leaned forward, voice low. “She said her teenage son has a list of girls he wants to kill. A hit list. She found it. Doesn’t know who to tell. Doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should get the police involved – McKay said I should. Dad died due to COVID. Kid ran off when I questioned.”

            Y/N exhaled. “Holy shit, ok.”

            “Yeah,” Robby nodded. “I’ve never had anything like this in the decades of medicine I’ve been practising. I mean, what do I even do? I’m not psych. This isn’t my wheelhouse.”

            Y/N doesn’t hesitate. “First, you need to document everything. Everything. Everything he mentioned, every action he did. Anything. Everything mom says and does as well. Trauma can cause idealisations like this. Or other mental health disorders. Mom brought him here, which means there’s an element of seeking help rather than hiding it. That’s important.”

            Robby nods slowly, absorbing.

            “Second,” Y/N continues, her tone soft but confident, “you are talking to her like she’s in a crisis. This is not a crisis right now. Do not make her more worried than she is right now. This is terrifying for her. You need to build therapeutic rapport.”

            Robby furrowed his brows. “I’m not a therapist, Y/N.”

            She shrugged. “Well, sometimes you need to be. Therapeutic rapport is building a bond, trust between you and the patient. No judgment. Be empathic, validate her feelings, make her feel safe. Hear the whole story. Moms know their kids. I know you’re good at rapport. I’ve seen it.”

            He nodded.

            “Ask her how she’s coping. Ask if there’s anyone helping her – therapists, counsellors, psychologists, even family. A support system needs to be created. She’s not crazy, she’s worried. She’s a mother whose son might be a danger to others, she’s scared shitless.”

            He nodded. “What about the son?”

            Y/N shrugged. “He’s a minor, right?” Robby nodded. “It’s not a ‘tell the school’ issue. You need to report this. Don’t call the police. Police don’t know how to deal with cases like this without making it seem criminal. Get psych involved, even social work. I can help do. But right now, your job is the mom. Talk to her. Sit down. Be human. It’s not about diagnosing, it’s about understanding the pain that this kid is going through and how you can support the family. If that makes sense. It’s not black or white, Robby. Tough with situations like this.”

            Robby looked at her for a beat, then chuckled softly. “You can be terrifying when you’re calm like this.”

            She hummed. “Did my time in mental health, remember? Three years of working in the psych ward as a mental health worker. I’ve sat on too many cold tile floors with kids who thought no one would ever understand them. You don’t forget that. Being a teenager is hard, especially in this day of age.” Y/N squeezed his arm. “I have a teenager brother. It’s hard for them.”

            Robby nodded. “Thanks. I mean it.”

            Y/N bumped her shoulder with his. “You got this, Cowboy. Just be kind. Active listening. That’s all people ever really need.” He sent her a smile. “Want me to come? Jump in if needed?”

            He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, too many bodies. She might freak out.”

            Y/N nodded. “Absolutely valid. Go be a therapist for a second. Might even boost your patient satisfaction scores,” she hummed, smiling.

            Robby chuckled, shaking his head and walking away.

-

Dana came up to Y/N a little while later. “Have you eaten, sweetheart?” she asked, leaning to look at her.

            Y/N shook her head. “Not since this morning when Jack shoved a sandwich down my throat and then I puked it up,” she replied, humming.

            “Come on, Mama,” she hummed, hooking her arm with the nurse and pulling her to the break room.

            Once they got there, there were several bags filled with sandwiches. Instantly, Y/N then felt her hunger, sitting down and going through the bags.

            “Ugh,” McKay groaned, “the things I would do for pastrami.”

            Y/N smirked, going through the boxes to find something she could eat. It was recommended not to eat cold cuts when pregnant, so she was searching for something.

            “Is there a turkey and cheese?” Princess asked, glancing over.

            “Uh, yeah,” Y/N replied, handing her a box.

            The door opened, and Robby came in. “Oh, what is all this?” he asked.

            “Lunch. Primanti’s. It appears that we have at least one grateful patient,” Dana replied, looking over her shoulder to see Robby.

            Robby smirked. “Hope is alive. Who do we have to thank?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. I think there’s a card at the bottom of the bag,” Dana said.

            Robby found it, reading it over, however he placed it down, face fallen. “Enjoy your lunch,” he responded, then looked over at Y/N. “But you…eat,” he lectured, pointing at the young nurse.

            “I am!” she hollered back, mouth full of food.

            “Good.” Then he left the room.

            Y/N noticed the wicked change of behaviour from the old man within seconds. Brows furrowed; she grabbed the card.

            “What was that?” Whitaker asked.

            “Don’t know,” Dana replied.

            Y/N sighed. “It’s from Shelby Adamson, Dr. Adamson’s sister,” Y/N replied, handing the card to Dana.

            “She sends something every year,” Dana muttered, sighing.

            “He doesn’t like her?” Whitaker asked.

            Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s about that. It’s about him,” she whispered, biting into her sandwich again.

            “Dr. Adamson was Robby’s mentor and he…he died during COVID, so,” Dana replied, another deep sigh came from her.

-

1300

Y/N got called for a potential drug-induced patient or even psych. Nandi, an influencer who was erratic. Y/N stood next to Robby, arms crossed, as Donnie administered some drugs and Santos and Mohan tried to get the patient’s history.

            “Javadi, Whitaker, see if you can do the exam,” Robby said, looking over to the med students.

            They nodded. Javadi took out her pen light. “Can you look at the light?” she asked as Whitaker took vitals.

            Instantly, the patient flinched, hiding herself away from the light. “No. What was that?” she expressed.

            “Ok. Open your mouth?” Javadi tried.

            The patient was curled up, scared and filled with fear. Y/N continued to watch the behaviour, glancing over to Robby, who gave her a look.

            “No. It’s not real. Where am I?” the patient continued to express, voice filled with fear.

            “How do you even do an exam with a patient like this?” Whitaker asked.

            Nandi continued to be paranoid.

            “Observe her. Wait for her to look at you or open her mouth, and get a quick look. Make sure she moved her arms and legs equally,” Mohan explained to the med students.

            Donnie tried to get the patient hooked up to the monitor, but she was fighting.

            “Alright, we might need to wait until after the meds kick in,” Robby explained, arms still crossed as he looked at the patient. Then he called everyone out of the room. Y/N followed suit.

            Once out of the room, Y/N stood in front of Robby, glancing back as she tried to think of what could possibly have happened. However, Robby let out a sigh.

            “Ok, differential diagnosis?” he asked.

            “Schizophrenia, first psychotic break. She’s in the right age range,” Javadi suggested.

            Y/n slowly nodded. Robby too. “Yeah, what else?” he said.

            “Drugs, also common in this age group,” Whitaker explained.

            “Common in any age group,” Y/N replied.

            “Exactly,” Robby said. “What else?”

            “Not just recreational drugs. It could also be toxicity to medications,” Javadi tried.

            Y/N nodded again, thinking that could be a possibility as well.

            “Don’t just jump to conclusions,” Mohan reminded. “Think big categories and then specifics.”

            “Metabolic, hyper- or hyponatremia, calcium, hepatic encephalopathy,” Whitaker brainstormed.

            “Endocrine, hyperthyroid, infectious encephalitis,” Javadi added.

            “These are all possibilities,” Robby muttered, looking down at the floor for a second. “Ok, let’s work her up medically and see if we can clear her.” Then he glanced at the patient through the window.

            “Chem panel, CBC, TSH and T4, drug screen, and hCG,” Mohan muttered, saying the tests they need to do.

            “Yep. Keep me posted. If it’s all negative, then admit her to psych,” Robby ordered, nodding at the team before walking off.

            Y/N nodded, turning back to the patient to help stabilise her so they could get the tests done.

-

Y/N watched Robby’s behaviour for an hour. The way he was snappier, grumpier and a little bit too harsh with his tone. She figured it could be because he was hangry or perhaps due to the fact that it was Adamson’s death day. However, she needed to talk to him. She needed him to talk to her and for her to express that he can’t talk the way he does to his team.

            When she spotted him exiting the bathroom, she made her way, stopping in front of him. He stared at her for a moment, raising a brow.

            “You, me, talk, now,” she barked, pointing to the hallway.

            “Y/N,” he tried, voice low and warning.

            She shook her head. “Nope. You’re talking to me,” she explained, grabbing his arm and pulling him.

            “I’m a busy man, Y/N. I don’t have time–“

            “Don’t care. You need a moment to decompress. To breathe. So, we will go to the corner and hash it out,” she barked back, stopping in a spot where no one could see them. “You’re being harsh to the kids. A little bit too blunt, which isn’t like you, Robby–“

            He stared at her for a moment before glancing away, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince her.

            She shook her head. “You’re off today. I’m not the only one who sees it.”

            He scoffed.

            “You’re snapping. Chewing the kids out like they stole your car. Something’s going on, so tell me,” Y/N explained, nudging him. “Just between us.”

            He glanced at her, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place – exhaustion, maybe. Pain. Or both. His jaw clenched.

            “Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “Not everything needs to be dissected with your psych degree and nurse intuition. Maybe I’m just in a bad fucking mood.”

            She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t snap at people because of a bad mood. That’s not who you are. Also, you need to be professional, Robby. If it is a bad mood, stop impacting other people. We need to work as a team.”

            Robby looked away again, like he was trying to swallow something that didn’t want to go down. “You ever think that maybe I’m just a ride for people expecting me to hold it together?” he muttered.

            Y/N softened when he muttered that. “Then talk it out. Say it. Don’t lash out at them. You’re their attending, Robby, their mentor. The chief of the ER. They look up to you.”

            He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, today they’re looking up to a man who’s–“ He sighed.

            She stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever trusted to go into hell with and come out on the other side. But not like this. Not when you’re burning people with you.” He blinked. Once. Twice. “It’s ok to not be ok.”

            Then his tone dropped, almost broken as he glanced down.

            “It’s Adamson’s anniversary.”

            She nodded slowly. “I figured.”

            “And then all the fucking deaths, chaos. It’s just–“

            “It’s a day, Robby. Too much in one day,” she replied, sending him a small smile.

 He nodded, breathing harder now. “I just. Everyone expects us to fix things and sometimes I don’t know how to fix things.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re not supposed to fix everything, Robby,” she said gently. “But it’s ok to not be ok. We are doing our best. All of us.” Robby stared at her. “We aren’t superheroes. We aren’t God or whatever people believe in. We are just ER cowboys trying to win the rodeo,” she replied.

            There was a long pause, and Robby looked like he might finally crack. His mouth opened but then Y/N’s face shifted.

            Instantly, she grasped the wall as she clasped her stomach, holding it. Wincing, as she held her breath.

            Robby watched her, eyes widening. “Y/N?” he asked, instantly, alarm.

            Her brows furrowed as she continued to feel the intense cramps. “Fuck,” she whispered before shaking her head. “No, no, no, you do not get to do this.” Y/N bent over, both hands covering her stomach now.        

            Robby stepped closer, his voice soft but urgent. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

            Y/N glanced up at him, colour draining from her face. He said her name again, hand coming out to hold her, but instantly, she pushed past him. Robby turned, seeing her beginning to try her best with walking away.

            “Y/N,” he tried, walking after her.

            “I’m fine, go back to work,” she whispered, breathy.

            He scoffed. “No, no. You’re not fine,” he said, trying to reach for her, but she pulled away.

            She turned to him. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” she barked. “Do not follow me.”

            Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving Robby standing here, pulse pounding in his ears.

            He knew it. He knew exactly what was happening. And this time, he couldn’t fix it either.

-

1400

Y/N pushed the bathroom door open. She knew what was happening, biting down on her bottom lip, she closed the bathroom door, locking it. Sitting down on the toilet, she pulled her pants down and glanced at her underwear.

            Instantly, her stomach turned. Instantly, a sob came from her. Instantly, she closed her eyes and lost it.

            Blood. So much blood.

            She was miscarrying.

            Sitting there, she let it happen. She let everything happen. Y/N closed her eyes, sitting there on the toilet. Her pants were down, her hands were on her knees, and the tears just came. Y/N knew it was going to happen. It happened before. The chance of her getting pregnant was slim, but the chance of her carrying to term was even slimmer.

            There was a piece of her that was hopeful. Bleeding can happen in pregnancy, and she was still in her first trimester, but as she opened her eyes again and looked at her underwear, she shook her head.

            This was not light bleeding. Not even close. This was truly a miscarriage.

            Y/N let the tears happen for minutes. She knew Robby would find her if she got spotted, but she couldn’t think about this right now.

            She just had to let herself grieve in solitude.

            Twenty-four hours. She had knowledge that she was pregnant for twenty-four hours. She found out around two o’clock the day prior and now it was just a little past two, and she was not pregnant anymore.

            Y/N took deep breaths. Allowing herself to calm herself down. Cleaning her underwear and grabbing a sanitary pad from the bathroom, she fixed herself up at the mirror. She had to go on. Few more hours. Few more hours and she could go home.

            Y/N knew Beckett wanted to come over today, but she couldn’t let him anymore. She needed to be alone. Tomorrow was her day off. She could wallow in her own pity or pretend it never happened.

            Then it hit her.

            Jack. Her sweet, old man, Jack. He had no idea. Not a single clue what was going on.

            There was no pregnancy anymore. There was no exciting news. There was no baby. There was no way she was going to tell him now.

            He didn’t know about the last miscarriage. They weren’t together at the time. She had her last one at twenty-two. Eight years ago. A different partner at the time. A whole other world.

            Y/N grasped the sink for a moment, wiping her tears before looking back up. She smiled, showed her teeth and then took a deep breath.

            She needed to confirm the miscarriage. She needed proof.

            Opening the door to the bathroom, she kept her head down, walking past everyone and making her way to the ultrasound machine that was standing by the nurses’ station. She grabbed it, wheeling it to Central 16. However, Robby watched her. Robby watched her with Dana next to him as Y/N tried to hide this from everyone.

            Instantly, he pushed off the leaning post against the station and followed suit.

            Y/N was in the trauma room, turning the ultrasound on while grabbing the gel, when the door opened.

            “Lie down,” Robby whispered. “Let me,” he said.

            Y/N turned her head, tear tear-stained face and reddened eyes. However, no more tears were thre. She froze for a second, gripping the ultrasound probe too tightly, knuckles white. The room was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that made everything echo, even your own breath.

            Y/N stared at him, no words, just shook her head in a silent ‘no’. Robby stepped forward gently, hands raised as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

            “Please, Ace,” he said softly. “Let me help.”

            She blinked slowly; tears welled again but didn’t fall. Her voice was nearly gone. “I know how to use an ultrasound machine, Robby,” she responded.

            “I know you can,” Robby replied. “But you shouldn’t have to do this. Not alone.”

            Y/N’s lips trembled. Her fingers loosened around the probe before she let it drop onto the tray beside the machine. She didn’t say anything – just walked slowly over to the medical bed and laid back, legs still tense, arms folded across her chest.

            Robby moved with care, grabbing a pair of gloves and setting up the ultrasound. He didn’t speak as he pulled, he pivacy curtain across the window and door. The room filled with a quiet hum of the machine warming up.

            “This is just to check, ok?” he said. His voice was steady and careful. “I’m going to use a little pressure.”

            She nodded without looking at him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. Mind racing as she took deep breaths. Tucking her shirt up, she exposed her stomach to him.

            Robby squirted the gel onto her lower abdomen and gently moved the probe into place. Y/N turned to look at the screen. Both of them did.

            Nothing.

            He tilted the wand slightly, adjusted angles.

            Still nothing.

            No heartbeat. No flicker. It was there yesterday, but today it was gone.

            The silence was deafening.    

            Robby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

            “Try transvaginally,” she whispered, staring at the screen. “It would be hard to see it as I’m so early. It’s more accurate.”

            Robby stared at her for a moment, watching as she broke her eye contact from the screen to look at the man, she was so close with. When their eye’s met the hope that was in Y/N’s eyes, the sparkle, was long gone since this morning. She knew the answer, but she was science-based and needed to know.

            “Ok,” he muttered, pulling the probe away.

            “Get me something to drape myself,” she muttered, and Robby nodded, handing her a sheet from a cart in the corner.

            Robby turned his back to her and Y/N pulled her pants down, underwear and all, before draping the sheet over her.

            “I’m bleeding,” she whispered, warning him. “Vaginally,” she muttered added. “Because I’m–“

            He nodded. “I know. It’s ok, Ace. I’ve got you.”

            He didn’t look at her body. He didn’t even glance. He just handed her the internal probe and told her she needed to insert it herself. Y/N sat on the gurney, knees up, legs spread as she inserted it.

            “It’s in, Robby,” she whispered.

            He nodded, finding the probe under the drape, his arm steadying on her knee, a comfort message as he looked back at the screen.

            Still nothing.

            Just the hollow blackness of an empty gestational sac. No flicker. No movement. The image that meant life twenty-four hours ago was now confirmation of loss.

            Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch. It was like her soul had gone quiet. Numb.

            Robby slowly removed the probe and stepped back, carefully covering her again. He went to open his mouth to explain the next steps when it comes to having a miscarriage, but Y/N stopped him.

            “Not my first rodeo, Cowboy,” she muttered with a hint of a joke, pulling her pants back up. “This is my third,” she casually said.

            Robby stared at her. Hearing such a secret, the vulnerability of her words. “Have you and Jack gone through this before?” he asked. “Were you trying?”

            She scoffed, shaking her head. “No and no. I was twenty-two last time. Then nineteen the first time,” she responded. Y/N was moving to sit on the edge of the medical bed, looking at Robby, who was staring at her like she was broken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

            “Like what?” he whispered, brows furrowed.

            “With pity,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Don’t tell Jack. Don’t ever tell Jack. Don’t ever bring it up to Jack. Jack will never know. Never ever know. This is my story. Not our story,” she said, words very deliberate and soft.

            Robby’s brows furrowed, jaw tightening. “Y/N–“

            “I’m fucking serious, Robby,” she snapped, eyes finally locking on this. “He’ll never know. You hear me? This is going with me to the grave.”

            “He loves you, Ace. So much,” Robby said quietly, eyes soft but firm. “He deserves to know. He would want to know. I would want to know if we were together,” he said.

            “But we aren’t,” she casually shrugged before glancing up at the ceiling. “Jack has had a hell of a life. So much loss. He doesn’t need this on top of it. He thought I couldn’t get pregnant. He made his peace with it. I don’t need to disrupt that.”

            Robby crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not good going through this alone,” he muttered.

            She shook her head. “Well, sometimes there are things you do have to conquer alone,” she responded, jumping off the bed and looking at the chief of the ER. “Patient-Doctor confidentiality, Robby. I was your patient,” she said. “Don’t tell Jack.”

            Robby swallowed, nodding. “Go home, Y/N,” he said, a little too sternly, a little too roughly. “Go home. We’ll cover you.”

            She stared at him, crossing her arms. “I’m not dying, Robby. I’m miscarrying, I’m fine–“

            “You’re emotional,” he whispered.

            Her head snapped to him. “Oh, fuck you, Robby,” she barked, shaking her head and walking to the door. “Burn the scan. Delete the images. This never happened,” she said. “Thank you, though, for being here for this minute.”

            Robby didn’t say anything as she opened the trauma room door. He just watched her walk away with fire in her step and devastation in her eyes.

            The minute the door clicked shut behind her, he ran a hand through his hair, then face through his beard and exhaled hard. This was the part of the job that hurt the most. Not the trauma, not the chaos. It was watching someone you love – really love – bleed silently and refuse to help.

            And Jack?

            Jack would lose his fucking mind if he knew what just happened in this room.

            Y/N went to the nurse’s station, sitting down and opening up the computer. Dana knew what was up. Robby mentioned Y/N tumbled in pain, and then she wheeled the ultrasound machine into the trauma room. She stayed silent for a moment, debating what to do with the young nurse who was pretending nothing happened.

            She walked over, pulling a seat next to Y/N.

            “Talk to me,” Dana whispered.

            “Rather not,” she replied, eyes focused on the screen. “But thank you for being like a mom to me,” she whispered. “Thank you for the support.”

            “Always, sweetheart,” Dana hummed back, touching her shoulder, squeezing it. “But I’m here.”

            Y/N nodded, halting her type before looking at Dana. “I’m going to give the same speech to you as I did to Robby. This is between us. Jack will never know. You hear me never know. Ever. It’s my story and I chose who gets to know,” she said quietly, voice sharp.

            Dana nodded staring at her for a moment. “Of course.” Then Dana moved away from Y/N, knowing that hovering wasn’t going to benefit her at all.

-

            Y/N instantly was on her feet when a child rolled in on a gurney. Paramedics announced she was a drowning victim. Y/N instantly grabbed gloves and hurried over.        

            “Amber Philips, six years old. Found at the bottom of a home pool with an unknown downtime. Asystole on the monitor,” the paramedics called out as Y/N hurried alongside them.

            “Intubated with a cuffed 4.5, 22-gauge left AC, 0.25 epi three minutes ago,” another called out.

            Y/N grasped the underlying sheet, as someone counted down before they moved the child from the gurney to the medical bed. Instantly, she was back to herself, grabbing supplies and working around the doctors.

            “Whitaker, take over compressions,” Robby called out before looking up. “Any family coming in?”

            “Grandma and little sister,” a paramedic called out.

            “Fast and deep,” Collin’s stated.

            Whitaker began doing compressions as Mel stepped in with her stethoscope. “She’s really cold.”

            Y/N heard that, knowing what that meant and nodded, already going to work before Robby could say anything.

            “Ace, get a core temp,” he called out.

            “On it already,” she replied.

            “Good breath sounds bilaterally,” Mel called out.

            “Should we use the Lucas?” Whitaker asked.

            “No, she’s way too small for that,” Collin’s replied.

            Y/N was grabbing her temperature, brows furrowed. “Rectal temp only 85.” Y/N shook her head. “Kid’s got moderate hypothermia,” she stated. Robby glanced at Y/N who was deep into her work.

            “Yeah,” he stated, nodding. “We need to get her up to 90 if we have any chance of restarting her heart.”

            They all nodded.

            “250 ccs heated saline. Set up the Arctic Sun. Continuous core temp monitoring, and prep another epi 0.25,” Collins called out, and Y/N instantly went to work grabbing the supplies and things needed.

            Robby just stood there, looking at Y/N. “Robby, if you keep staring, I will throttle you,” Y/N muttered, walking around him.

            He then nodded, out of his daze. “Yup,” he muttered, looking back at the patient.

            They continued to work on the patient, trying their best to bring her back. Y/N tried not to think that there was a little girl on the table, someone’s daughter.

            Grandma came in, sitting next to Amber.

            “She wasn’t breathing, so the medics put a tube in her throat,” Robby whispered to the grandmother.

            “She’s so cold,” Frances, the grandmother, called out, scared.

            “We’re warming her up. That way, she’ll have a better chance to respond to the medicines,” Robby explained, looking back at Y/N who refused to look him in the eye.

            “They moved a bench next to the pool fence so they could go over, because their soccer ball went in the water. Amber couldn’t make it out of the deep end. The gate was locked. I was vacuuming. I didn’t hear them,” Frances muttered, holding onto her granddaughter as she sniffed and sighed.

            Y/N’s heart broke hearing that, but she couldn’t think of that right now. She had a job to do.

            The parents came in soon after. Y/N watched them as the mother came to hold her daughter. Y/N swallowed.

            “Rhythm check. Hold compressions,” Collins called out.

            Whitaker took a step back. But the machine was flat lining.

            “Asystole. Resume compressions,” Collins ordered.

            Whitaker went back to CPR while Y/N held the breathing bag.

            “Three minutes since the last epi,” Y/N said.

            “Push another,” Collins replied.

            “Did you shock the heart?” the mother asked, glancing up.

            “Uh, no,” Robby replied, calmly, lowly.

            “Why…why didn’t you shock the heart?” the mother asked, words desperate and confused. “We’ve got to save her. You’ve got to shock the heart.”

            “Heart rhythm right now is flatlining. That’s not treatable with a shock. We’re trying to get the rhythm to change to something we can shock by warming her up,” Robby replied, voice quite and low.

            “Ok. So, we’ve got to warm up. You’ve got to get some more blankets in here or something,” the mother rambled.

            “We are giving her warm IV fluids, and you can feel these blue pads. They have warm water running through them like a hot tub,” Robby muttered.

            “Are you sure you’re doing everything?” the mother asked, quietly.

            “Yes, we are,” Robby confirmed.

            Robby’s eyes went back to Y/N, who glanced up to see him. He was just staring her, and Y/N took a deep breath and dodged his eyes.

            They continued longer trying to bring back this little girl. Y/N didn’t try to think of the situation but rather the job that needed to be done. Whitaker continued to do chest compressions, warm saline went through her veins and Y/N helped with getting oxygen into her.

            “Core temp is 88,” she spoke up. Slowly it was climbing.

            “Is that good?” the dad spoke up, looking around the room.

            “It’s up from 85 on her arrival, so we’re headed in the right direction,” Collins spoke up.

            Robby was hovering, arms crossed as he walked around the room. His eyes were on the little girl, then Collins, before jumping back to Y/N, who remained emotionless.

            “You hear that, Amber?” the mother spoke. “It’s better,” she said between breaths as she ran her hand through her daughter’s hair. “You’re getting better.”

            “I need to step out for a second. You’re in good hands,” Robby whispered, looking at the parents. “Come find me when it’s over 90,” he whispered to Collins before leaving the room.

            Eventually the core temperature got to 91. Robby was back in the room, glancing at monitors. Mateo was on the bag down helping her breathe while Y/N stood with her arms crossed.

            “Can you shock the heart now?” the dad asked.

            “91 is warm enough for her heart to respond,” Robby muttered, still looking at the monitors.

            “Hold compressions,” Collins addressed. Whitaker stopped and the machine flatlines. Y/N walked to the phone to hear the results of the labs.

            “Asystole,” Mel whispered.

            “Resuming compressions.”

            Listening to it, her face fell, nodding. She hung up, placing the phone back on the wall before turning to the crowd. She took a breath. “Potassium levels are back,” she said.

            Robby looked at her, raising a brow.

            “12.2,” she breathed, knowing what it meant. Her eyes looked over the crowd as Robby walked over, bending down next to the family.

            Y/N’s heart broke, looking over to the girl on the table. Seeing her small frame, her lifeless, small frame and sighed. Another death. Another death on this day.

            “No one has ever survived a cardiac arrest with a potassium over 11. There is absolutely no chance of recovery,” Robby said, voice low, calm and soft. He took a breath. “I am so sorry. Amber has died.”

            Y/N instantly glanced down, biting down on her bottom lip.

            “Before we stop, do you think her sister would like a chance to say goodbye?”

            “No,” the dad responded, shaking his head. “Uh, Bella shouldn’t see her like this.”

            “Ok,” Robby replied, sending a solid nod. “You can stay in here for as long as you like. We are going to stop now,” he told them.

            The mother was hysterical. Y/N couldn’t blame her. She just lost a child. Her child. A daughter who barely lived. So small, so young. Y/N lost a child today, and it might not have been the same as the mother, but it was still a child.

            Robby met Y/N’s eyes, and he saw her expression. His head nodded to the door and she nodded back, quietly excusing herself from the room.

            Y/N walked right outside the trauma ward into the ambulance bay. The sun was shining, the wind was soft, and it was just a beautiful day. A beautiful September day, but it was such a fucking shitty day. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and staring in front of her.

            “Fuck, I want a cigarette,” she muttered. “Just one fucking cigarette.”

            However, she could hear Jack’s words in her brain scolding her for pumping poison into her lungs. His words would be so simple “Dove, rather you talk to me than take your stress out through inhaling toxins.”

            If that was so fucking simple. If everything was so fucking simple.

            She had no idea how long she had been there for, but she saw Nick Bradley’s body being wheeled out on a gurney to the ambulance bay to be transported for organ donation. She missed the memory walk. However, Y/N didn’t move. She stayed put, glancing ahead.

            Dana, Collins and Robby came out to see the ambulance leave. Y/N stayed put, not saying a word, not even looking at them. Instead, just stared ahead. Her arms were crossed, then she glanced down at her shoes, seeing the stains from the job. Her cardigan was gone. Just the long-sleeved cheetah print she had under the lighter scrubs. Y/N pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. Long, thick locks that cascaded in perfect waves.

            Robby spotted her by the doors, about three metres from them. Her back against the wall, just staring. He debated whether or not to walk over. Would she be down to talk? Would she even want to talk?

            He lingered, hands on his hips, watching her, hus head straight then a slight tilt he did whenever he was thinking too hard. Collins and Dana exchanged a glance, one that said, “leave it to Robby” before heading back in through the double doors, the hush of grief following them.

            Robby waited a beat longer. Then walked over.

            He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside her, leaning back against the same wall, crossing his arms. His shoulders brushed hers, but she didn’t move. Instead, her head came, leaning over to his shoulder.

            Her eyes remained forward, lips pressed together and jaw tight. She swallowed hard before she took a deep breath.

            Robby didn’t know what to say.

            “You missed the walk,” he said after the moment, voice low.

            “I know.”

            “He was your patient.”

            She was silent for a moment, then a small, “I know,” came. Nothing else came from her, instead, she just moved her head to get deeper into the crook of his neck.

            Robby’s hand came, grasping her hand as their hands entwined. “I’m here,” he whispered.

            She nodded. “I know.” He went to open his mouth. “Don’t tell me to go home. Please don’t. That’s the last place I want to be.”

            He said nothing, stayed quiet.

            “You’re a good man, Michael,” she whispered. “A really good man. Who deserves so much. Happiness, peace, solitude and a fair life,” she mumbled. “I’m thankful for you. I’m grateful you’re in my life.” Then she breathed. “I’ll always have love for you,” she whispered, looking down. “But this job,” she muttered and took a deep breath in, “slowly degrades you. Burns brain cells. Eats your blood count. Destroys your faith.”

            “I know,” he replied. “You’ve had a day.”

            She stayed quiet for a brief second before pulling away and looking up to his six-foot frame. “No, we are having a day. Not just me.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, pretty fucking shitty. But this is what we do.”

            Y/N nodded in silence before looking back in front of her. “I should tell Jack, right?” she whispered.

            “Yeah, you should.” She nodded, reaching for her phone but he stopped her hand. “This is something to do in person, Y/N. I would like to hear it in person. Not due to selfish needs, but because I would want to hold you while you told me. Wipe your tears. Hold your hand. Caress your hair and whisper ‘it’s going to be ok’.” Y/N met his eyes, and he saw how broken they were. “I would tell you how much I love you. I would ask what you’d want next. Then I’d run you a bath, get in with you and hold you. I’d whisper sweet nothings, delivering kisses along your skin as I rub your stomach. Then we’d go to bed, and I’d hold you all night.”

            Y/N stared at him. They said nothing for moments. Just stared at one another. Their hands were still entwined together.

            Then she took a long, deep breath. “A lot of death today,” she mumbled.

            “I agree.”

            She broke her gaze from him and looked ahead. “It’s been officially like a hundred days of me not smoking. I stress smoke. Since I was eleven, and stole them from my mother. I might light one or two, or a whole packet,” she muttered. Then she took another breath. “Jack found me last time. I’d got news that my mom was ok. She was missing from her housing facility. She was missing for two weeks. Found,” she let out a chuckle, “at our old shit box home. We lived in it till I was ten before we got evicted. She was pregnant with Beckett at the time. We moved into my Nana’s. Beckett was born not soon after,” she mumbled. He looked at her, listening but then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just want a fucking cigarette, and I can hear Jack’s brooding, grumpy old man voice in the back of my head lecturing me.” She met his eyes. “Don’t lecture me, Cowboy,” she joked with a small smile. “I bet you have vices to deal with your shit.”

            He smirked, chuckling. “Hey, we work in the ER, the ways we cope can’t be judged.” Though he winked at her, and she raised a brow. “I can’t give you a cigarette as I don’t smoke and I know Jack would throttle me if he found out. But,” he hummed, digging into his pocket, “I have a mint.”

            Y/N stared at the mint he had. The peppermint, one that brought a smile to her face. “That’s from the staff room.”

            He nodded. “Yes, it is.”

            She then sent a small smile. “Jack, before we started dating, would hand me a mint from the staff room whenever I had a bad case. He would say something like, ‘the burning would distract you’. We’d sit on the rooftop. Talk about anything. Well, he was my boss, so I didn’t know what to talk about. So, we’d talk about common things, which usually was how bad the coffee in the break room was and how I had a conspiracy that the sandwiches from the cafeteria were recycled from the university and from frozen. I was awkward with him.”

            Robby glanced at her. He had one thought – if she wasn’t on night shifts for two years and on days instead, would they have had months like this…leading to a life together.

            “I didn’t know that,” he said gently.

            “Jack’s not a talker,” she responded. “Now he is. Not a yapper, but like the type to express his wants and needs bluntly.”

            Robby chuckled. “Yeah, best mates we are,” he hummed.

            Y/N nodded. “Oh, I know. You two trade tools, talk about trucks and bond over building things from scratch.”

            Robby chuckled. “I did pressure wash your rancher home this past summer,” he mumbled. “And your Bronco.”

            Y/N chuckled. “Jack has threatened me that if I continue to keep my Bronco a mess from all my trash, shit and life, I will be sleeping in the guest room.”

            Robby chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, he’s a military man. Organisation, clean, sleek,” he muttered.

            Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m right now banned from his truck because I spilt my Starbucks in it last week and plus left my shit in it. But it wasn’t shit. It was like a claw clip, a lipgloss, a tide pen, an old coffee mug and my panties,” she muttered, and Robby raised a brow.

“Panties?”

“We went on a walk, and I ended up swimming in my undergarments, so I took them off in the car while he gave me his shirt. I forgot to bring in my lake-soaked panties. Classic Jack is like ‘Dove, the truck isn’t a purse’ and ‘Your chaotic gremlin energy does not belong in the truck. Truck is sacred’,” she muttered with a chuckle while doing a grumpy Jack impression. “Now, when we have to go anywhere, he demands we drive my car when we have three other cars on the property, but he complains they are ‘collectors’. Then he goes on about the mess. Whatever…”

            Robby rolled his eyes in laughter. “You’re a chaotic girl,” he muttered. “And a chaotic gremlin.”

            “No, I’m spicy. Unique. Different. Keep you on your toes type of girl,” she responded. Then she smirked. “But, I’ll accept gremlin.”

            Robby nodded. “You know it was love at first sight with him,” he mumbled.

            Y/N heard him, heart fluttering for a moment before shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t. When we met, he was emotionally shut down. Still grieving his late wife. I was this chaotic thunderstorm who entered the ER at twenty-two, who questioned the way he charted and his brooding demeanour.” Then she chuckled. “The first year, it was just professional, but I also mainly worked with you Robby on days. I moved to nights because of the premium rates and then gradually, he started to challenge me, teach me new things. After one hard case, he came over and crashed on my couch. Then he started to crash every shift we had together and then he was sleeping in my bed. We were just friends. He never touched me or flirted with me. Then one day, I just kissed him. Somehow, I did it on the rooftop and then…magic. Six years later, four dogs, a mortgage on a rancher on an acre of land by the edge of a city, a Bronco he bought for me, paid off my debt, paying my brother’s university and endless camping trips where I complain about shitting in a hole and sleeping on the floor.” She took a breath. “Why me? I ask every day. Why me? Because I’m far from perfect. Childhood trauma. Addict Mother. Dad,” she breathed, “dad, who has a whole other family. A half-brother who’s my world. And so many stories I’m not proud of but had to do to survive.” Then she shook her head. “He doesn’t know it all. I keep so much because he’s Jack. Old-fashioned, but still progressive, the type who,” she looked over to Robby and whispered, “makes sure a teenage girl gets an abortion. Brooding, strict, blunt, but so kind, deliberate, gentle and patient. The type who makes two of everything when he makes a coffee, or a lunch, because he wants to ensure I’m taken care of. The one who takes care of everything, so I don’t have to worry. Lectures me on letting the dogs on the bed or spending 7$ on a coffee.” Then she let out a loud cackle. “The man who hates my mother but still supports her housing. Buys her groceries for her with me. Comes with me to check on her and didn’t get mad when I was hiding that I was sending her money from our account.”

            Robby stayed quiet, knowing she didn’t need a response.

            “I’m so incredibly happy,” she whispered. “I made my own happiness. Becoming a guardian to Beckett at nineteen, raising him when my mother couldn’t, supporting myself and him while I attended school, going to university, becoming a nurse…getting Winston. But he came, and it was just like, ‘yeah, I’m good now. Don’t need anything else’. But,” she breathed, “a baby.”

            Robby glanced over but her eyes were focused on a rock on the ground. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Moments. He knew she was thinking of the best way to say it. Her brain was going over every word in her brain.

            “I was a mother,” she eventually said,” I am a mother.”

            Robby’s brows furrowed.

            “I became a mother at fourteen when mom went on a bender for two weeks. Gone, came back for her shift and then fucked off forever. I had a four-year-old brother. I had no choice,” she muttered. “Fuck,” she scoffed. “How am I alive? With her as my mother. Fuck knows. But Beck is mine. He is my child. He’s my son,” she whispered. “Jack sees him as a son. He takes care of him. For me. For us. For him. But also, because he’s Jack,” she muttered as tears came.

            Then everything hit. Memories she shut out from her childhood. Moments she didn’t know ever existed. Situations she hid from herself. Tears began to come down her cheeks.

            “Jack can know about this,” she eventually muttered. “But he can’t know all of me. Of everything I’ve done to be here today to be with him because he wouldn’t understand it.”

            Robby didn’t interrupt. He let her sit in that silence, let the tears fall. One thing Y/N taught him was active listening and how beneficial it was. But it was so rare to see Y/N like this, how she talked like this. Her truth that isn’t jokes, humour, and smirks. Her world was beautiful now, he knew that. But the way she spoke broke him internally. But this wasn’t a moment for laughter, but rather her talking about a grief that suited her.

            She sniffled hard and swiped her cheeks with the sleeve under her scrub top. “He wouldn’t understand it,” she whispered again, quieter this time. “He’s ex-military…we are survivors in different ways, but I don’t understand his trauma, and he wouldn’t understand mine. But he’s good. He’s cleaner in ways I never was. Sure, he may have combat fought and saw shit. But, never had to,” she shook her head, “never mind. He’s a good man and I needed him, and I thank the universe everyday for us.”

            Robby nodded.

            “But I want a baby,” she whispered. “I realized it in the last twenty-four hours, and I can’t have a baby, Robby. But it doesn’t make sense for us to have a baby. He’s forty-nine. We are workaholics. I still love a good party. I smoke if Jack doesn’t catch me, drink like an Irishman at a pub and dance like it’s 1999,” she said as she stared ahead. “Beckett was my baby. He was my baby, and I became a mother at fourteen,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I think I just realised that.” She scoffed. “I have to be his mother because ours is a piece of fucking shit.”

            Robby swallowed thickly, chest tight, watching her unravel, not in chaos, but in clarity. A trust she hadn’t spoken aloud, maybe not even to herself.

            He pulled her closer to his side, holding her. “Yeah,” he whispered. A piece of him would want to say I would give you everything, but he knew Jack already did. “Beckett is yours. Might be a adult now–“

            “Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He went to Jack two weeks ago for advice on oral sex.”

            Robby snickered, rolling his eyes. “You’re a good mom to him, Ace. You’ve done a good damn job.”

            Y/N looked at him, and he looked at her. “You’re a good man, Michael. In another life, I’d give you what you wanted,” she whispered, and he nodded.

            “In another life, Ace.”

            Then she scoffs. “God, I’m turning into an intern or a med student, crying in the ambulance bay,” she muttered before letting out a loud, real laugh.

            Robby smirked. “Welcome to the club. Took you long enough. They meet daily. Dana brings them muffins.”

            She glared at him. “I’m a nurse, not a goddamn med student. Crying is for the weak,” she barked but then smirked.

            “So judgmental, the rookies need to feel, Ace.”

            Their eyes were still looking at one another. “Do you think Jack would be mad if I didn’t tell him right away? Tell him when I’m ok?”

            Robby shook his head. “I would be ok with that,” he whispered but then sighed. “But Jack, he’d wouldn’t be mad, he’d be upset that you went through this alone.”

            She nodded. “He would say his classic line. I literally have a quote diary for him,” she muttered with a smile. “He would say,” she began and looked at Robby, clearing her throat for her best Jack impression, “it’s in the diary, ‘Dove…I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.’ Then he would be like, ‘Not in you, but in me. That I wasn’t there, but also that you went through this alone,’ isn’t that a Jack saying.” She smirked, proud of herself. Robby stared at her for a moment before nodding and chuckling.

            “You’re right on point, Ace.”

            “God, I know. I’ve been practising,” she hummed, smirking and sending him a wink and nudging his shoulder. “Anyway,” she whispered moments later. “You’re the Chief, fuck off and save lives.”

            He looked at her again and nodded. “You right?” he asked, nudging her.

            She looked at him for a moment, finding her words then broke in a smile. “I need a bloody case.”

            “Don’t jinx it.”

            “I need them alive. But like a good adrenaline rush. Earlier, when you let me do that intubation,” she hummed, nudging him again, “convincing me to join the daylight?”

            “You were moved to day shifts ten days ago,” he stated nonchalantly.

            “So, I can always change. You are on salary, me…well, hourly.” Then she smirked. “I love you, Cowboy, but like, you need to convince me to stay on the day. Jack lets me do way more on our shift.”

            He raised a brow, “It’s day. I can’t let you play being a doctor,” he stated. “Hate to break it to you, Ace, but you have a BSN, not an MD.”

            “Well, fuck you too, Robby.”             They stayed silent for moment. Then she smiled. “Hey, Cowboy?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Thanks for the mint,” she said with a smile, holding up the wrapper like a prize. “It helped. But not like a cigarette though.”

            He chuckled. “Well, if you stay on days, I’ll buy you a pack and store it in my locker for when you need them. But you can only smoke between 8am-6pm before Jack comes.”

            She smirks. “Marlboro lights, Cowboy. Take notes,” she hummed, winking.

            He nodded as she dropped her hold. “Locked in mind, Ace,” he hummed, smirking.          She nodded. “Go, save lives. I’ll be there in two.”

            He nodded, kissing the side of her temple before squeezing her arm and walking away. For a second, he paused, turning on his toes to look at her. “I may be good friends with Jack, but talk to me, ok? We are friends.”

            She smirked. “More than friends. Great friends, Cowboy. I’ll call you if I need you,” she muttered then lowered her voice, “better fucking do it to me if you need me.”

            He stared at her, mouth dropping a second before nodding. “Affirmative.”

            She smirked, watching him walk away. “That’s my saying!” she called out.

taglist:

@bubbleraccoon00

@beebeechaos

@travelingmypassion

@kaisanpoint

@sweetwanderlust05

@kmc1989

@hiireadstuff

@dizzybee03

@keileighr

@wolfbc97

@introvertathome

@sharkluver

@katydunn047-blog

@kenzimae67

@qardasngan

@rosieposie88

-

Hope you enjoyed. xoxo

Ava <3

[cameronsbabydoll]

sexist!season1!rafe and his podcast !! for @rafeslittlepup

the couch creaks under the weight of rafe and his friends, cheap beers half-drank, a ring light flickering weakly in the corner. the podcast mics are clipped to the coffee table like it’s some serious production. it’s not. they’re in his living room. the air smells like cologne, beer foam, and bad opinions.

you’re curled on rafe’s lap, legs tucked to the side, wearing one of his big shirts and fuzzy socks. totally out of place against the grimy, boyish backdrop. you're absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of his hand, looking up at him with big, oblivious eyes while he says shit like:

"nah, for real... women want to be led. they crave it. all that independent talk? fake. deep down they wanna be claimed."

he tightens his arm around your waist like he's proving a point.

his friends snicker and nod like he’s preaching gospel.

you just hide your face in his neck, pretending you’re not hearing any of it.

then kelce leans into the mic, laughing,

"and bro, rafe got the softest little thing sittin' here like a trophy. like, tell me i'm wrong."

rafe smirks, leans back into the couch like a king, tipping his beer at the camera.

"yeah, and she likes it too. don’t let ‘em lie to you, boys. the right one wants to be taken care of."

his hand slides up your thigh under the blanket, casual, possessive.

you squirm, embarrassed, but he just holds you tighter, dropping a kiss to your hairline like it’s nothing.

the mic picks up the rustle of fabric, the way he murmurs low against your temple:

"see? peaceful. that's how you know you’re doing it right."

the boys crack up again.

the episode title later?

"why modern women need to be humbled (feat. rafe cameron)"

and you?

you're still half-asleep on his lap when they hit publish.

[bread--quest]

oh hey! this news finally reached my dash, several months after it happened

yeah so as an update the government is following through on those threats and the head of social security publicly admitted to fucking with maine families ability to register their kids for social security at the hospital specifically out of spite and the state got its funding for free lunches for kids revoked and governor mills said this:

"Let today serve as warning to all states: Maine might be among the first to draw the ire of the Federal government in this way, but we will not be the last."

and like, i get it if you don't care about maine, there's a lot of other shit going on and it's a small state and all, but like. you could be next. might be worth keeping an eye on

also, the state's not backing down: the maine department of education, just yesterday, sent a notice to the U.S. department of education saying they refuse to sign a document saying they have removed DEI programs from schools, because they are already in compliance with federal laws and title VI of the civil rights act and they will not follow federal orders that are not backed by actual law. which i think is pretty fucking badass. and maybe deserves a bit more attention.

the maine attorney general stated "Trans girls are trans girls, and they deserve to play on a team of their identity, which would be a girls team". which is cool

also, by the way, the department of justice's "investigation" into maine's "violation" of title ix? yeah total sham. it only lasted a few days and they didn't actually talk to any state officials. doj investigations are supposed to take months and be, y'know, thorough.

and so like all of this is cool and i'm super proud of maine don't get me wrong. but also. losing federal funding would kind of be a huge deal and being in limbo (we already got a bunch of funding revoked and then sued the usda and then i think got that funding back but i'm not sure???) is scary. maine is not a particularly affluent state and there's a lot of kids who need the support from federal funds.

so, like. sorry for the long post but i just wanted to get more information out there.

TRUMP: The NCAA has complied immediately. That’s good. But I understand Maine — is the governor of Maine here? 

MILLS: Yeah, I’m here.

TRUMP: Are you not gonna comply? 

MILLS: I’m going to comply with state and federal law. 

TRUMP: We are the federal law. You better do it because you’re not gonna get any federal funding at all…

MILLS: I’ll see you in court.

TRUMP: Good, I’ll see you in court. That should be a real easy one. And enjoy your life afterward because you won’t be in elected politics ever again.

Trump threatens to cut off all federal spending to the State of Maine over trans student athletes, and proclaims himself the law, is met with a definite "I'll see you in court" from Democratic Maine Governor Janet Mills.

[digitaldaydreamm]

https://www.tumblr.com/umathurwin/777141804870074368/rafe-who-keeps-a-buzz-cut-because-he-has-sensitive?source=share

This is so bsf rafe, just imagine him going to readers house (unannounced ofc) and he looks awful, like burnout and frowning like a puppy (probably because of ward or some shit) and reader tries comforting him by running her hands through his hair and she lays his head down on her chest (this whole situation was just an excuse to be face to face with her tits LMAO)

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

warnings: cursing, rafe laying on reader's chest lol

a/n: this is sooo soft rafe :') i'm also finally getting into your reqs, remember they're always open for those of you who have anything special you'd like to ask for/comment on (for any of my existing pairings or new ones you wanna suggest)!!

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sound of your front door unlocking has your stomach flipping before you even register it.

Only one person uses a key like that��slow, angry, like the metal itself pissed him off. Then it swings open, heavy footsteps stomping across the floor like your living room did something wrong.

You peek out from the kitchen.

He looks rough.

Hoodie thrown on haphazardly, eyes red and jaw clenched so hard you think he might grind his teeth down. There’s a tension in his shoulders that screams don’t talk to me—but he came here, so you know he wants you to ignore that.

“Rafe?”

“Don’t ask,” he mutters, already collapsing onto the couch like it’s the only thing holding him together.

You shut the fridge quietly and walk over to him. “You look like shit.”

“Feel worse.”

You stop next to the couch, crossing your arms. “What do you need?”

He looks up at you, dead serious. “You.”

It’s not romantic. It’s not soft. It’s bone-deep exhaustion, and he’s just saying what he means—like always.

You sigh and climb up next to him, folding your legs under you as you start running your fingers over his buzzcut. He exhales immediately, head tipping forward like his entire nervous system just got unplugged.

“God. That—” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan to,” you say, brushing slow strokes along the top of his head. “You’re like a dog that needs head rubs to stay sane.”

“Woof,” he mutters sarcastically, and you laugh.

Then, without warning, he drops his head forward and lays it right on your chest.

You blink, tensing a little. “Rafe—”

“Relax,” he grumbles, voice muffled in your shirt. “M’not trying to cop a feel. You’re just soft.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand doesn’t stop moving through his hair. His body melts into yours, and the tension he came in with starts to dissolve bit by bit—still there, but dulled by your touch.

“What happened?” you ask after a beat.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late.”

He shifts a little, his arm hooking lazily around your waist like muscle memory, like this is where he’s meant to be when shit gets bad.

"I'll tell you about it later, 'kay?" His fingers bunch a tiny part of your shirt, gripping—not hard, just enough to keep you there.

“You’re the only one who lets me fall apart,” he says quietly.

Your heart squeezes.

“You don’t have to fall apart,” you whisper. “Not when you’re here.”

He hums, eyes still closed, and presses a little closer. “…You’re also the only person I don’t wanna hit when I’m like this.”

“Wow,” you snort. “Total green flag.”

He snickers tiredly, nose brushing your collarbone. “You love me.”

“Do not."

“You do,” he says, voice already lower, already slipping toward sleep. “You let me lay on your tits. That’s, like… ultimate love.”

You shake your head, smiling down at him as your fingers keep moving through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky I have a key,” he mutters.

And with that, he’s out—completely relaxed for the first time in God knows how long, buried against your chest like your heartbeat’s the only thing keeping him steady.

You just keep stroking his hair, already knowing: maybe he won’t talk about what happened tonight. But he’ll show up tomorrow with coffee like nothing happened, like he didn’t practically collapse in your arms.

And that’s okay.

Because Rafe only lets himself break when he knows you’ll be there to put him back together.

[loserinahotway]

Hobbies - Will Solace

Will Solace is head doctor. Easily and often shortened to only doctor. So, he thinks, knowing there’s more snide than there needs to be, who would expect him to have hobbies? Apparently, there’s a phase of dating that relies on their existence. 

Nico and Will have only been dating for two weeks. Haven’t kissed yet, have been on a solid three in-camp dates. And Will, on the forest floor with his back to some poor tree, is breathing heavy with the crushing, rock-hard weight of that stupid, too deep question that just. Keeps. Coming. Back.

He’s not stupid. He can see. He knows, logically, rationally, that it’s a standard question. A good and easy icebreaker. An important thing to know about as a partner. Yeah. Totally. Mhm. What do you do in your free time? Solid stuff. Solid. Solid. Good. Solid.

Solid enough to fill his lungs with rocks.

“Shit, what did I- what’s wrong? Will? Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t- what did I do?”

In. Out. In. Out. In, in, in, in-

He wheezes, embarrassingly, and his forehead hits his knees. He can feel, lightly, that Nico’s hand is above his shoulder. Ghosting it. He’d make a joke if he wasn’t so nauseously panicked. It barely brushes him, hesitant in the anxious, heart-stopped way Will can’t afford to be. That’s a mean thing to think, he berates. You aren’t struggling more than he is. Don’t compare.

He thinks it anyway. I can’t afford that. I can’t have that.

Can’t have hobbies, either.

Will hates when he gets like this.

Nico, next to him and out of his sight, seems to have settled his own breathing. You win, Will thinks, and almost laughs. He doesn’t. “Hey, alright, do you-uhm, do you wanna do the breathing stuff you taught me?”

His hand finally drops to touch his back, and Will feels one finger trace an infinite square on his shoulder. He knows the rules. He’s said them to camper after camper. In for the first line, hold for the second, out for the third, hold for the fourth; in, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out, hold in. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but his breath does even out. 

And instantly, guilt. 

He shoots right up and turns to his date. Fuck, his date. A picnic in the woods at the edges of camp. What a lovely way to kill romance. With a pointless panic attack. “Fuck, fuck! I’m sorry, shit, Nico, you didn’t do-”

“Hey, hey,” Nico raises his hands, looking right into Will’s eyes. He looks panicked, like he’s not quite sure what to do. Will likes that, somehow. Not in a sadistic way. It’s calming to seem like he’s not the only one all messed up in the moment. Part of him still bites, why aren’t you fixing it. It sneers about his need to nurse everything back to health. Sometimes Will thinks he was born a contradiction. God and mortal swimming in his blood, with all sorts of emotional opposites moving after that. “We just got you breathing again. You don’t need to apologize to me, Will.”

Will just sort of keeps looking at him. He’s not sure how to respond. Not out of shock or anything, just a lack of words. Luckily enough, Nico continues. 

“I said something.” “You didn-”

“Will.” Nico furrows his brows with the name, and Will closes his mouth and cuts off the denial. He remembers, sometimes, that Nico is technically a prince. And the way he ties weights to words really does sound royal. “I’m not blaming myself, or beating myself up, or sad. I didn’t mean to do anything. I’ve got very little reason to get mad at myself. That won’t help. I’ve learned that, by now. I promise.” Lightly, he moves his hand to Wills. He slots their fingers together against the dirt. “But I care about you. A lot. So, if something I did hurt you, I want to know. I want to get at it and learn and- and be good to you. I want to be good to you, Will. Please. Let me?”

He blinks.

And blinks.

And, with tears in his eyes; “I can’t have hobbies.”

A beat. “What?”

And he just fucking bawls, after that. Crumpling impossibly smaller as Nico curses and reassures and gets closer to him, rubbing his shoulders and forearm. Gods. How fucking pathetic, he thinks. You’re supposed to be a doctor.

That line, that last line. It does do something to numb him. He quiets, after another little bit. And eventually he’s just sniffling and leaning half against the tree and half against the sweet, beautiful, surprisingly good with speeches boy he’s supposed to be on a date with. 

“‘M sorry,”

“I’m not mad, though.”

“Probably should be.”

He pauses for just a second. “I don’t think so, Will.”

Now, Will’s voice is monotone and devoid of anything in a way he’s a little sickly proud of. “I’m a freak.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. Will can’t see it, with his head on his shoulder, but he knows he does, because he knows Nico. “For what? Not filling your exceptionally limited free time with extra tasks?”

Will rolls his eyes. “That’s not what hobbies are.”

“Isn’t it?”

They both stop for just a little, sitting close and in silence. It's really quite nice. 

“Is there a reason this upsets you so much?” You know that feeling, where you’re asked a question, and your whole story just sort of unfolds backwards in your brain. You remember everything, see it all, but it’s behind things. It’s blurred and muffled by glass. That’s what happens to Will, there.

Everything Will Solace has read since he was nine has been in a medical textbook. Because godly gifts aside, he needs to know he’s getting things right. He needs to know how to treat the bleeding and coughing and crying children that are in his care. So the Star Wars novels he’d trek through as a kid are gone. Because he can’t read them without knowing that there’s something better he could be looking at. Something  more useful to get into his head. 

He is the son of the music god and a renowned country star. And he has not a drop of musical talent. Musical knowledge, sure. He can read any sheet music, he can tell you any fact about a piece by ear, he could probably even teach you to play any instrument with words. But for the fucking sake of him, he cannot  put anything that sounds good into the air. He gets stressed in low-stakes situations instead of high ones, like he was anxiously programmed backwards. His hands only shake when they’re presented with something that will distract him. Like a guitar. Like a microphone. Et cetera. There’s no instrument that will give him something he needs to have. So why play one?

When he writes, he subconsciously looks for the line he has to sign. The boxes to check. The space for notes. All he’s written in years has been hospital reports and records. Files upon files of them. How’s he supposed to write something without those little guides that have been leading him almost all his life? How would he pen a story, or characters, when all the ideas in his head are organized by urgency? 

Will hates closing his eyes, hates stopping to be with himself. Because then he sees it all. Every mistake. Every brother and sister. Every soaked-through bandage. Every failure. When he looks back into his head, those are the pictures. So what would he paint? Broken ribs? Dead family? Because those are the images he works so hard not to look at. He can’t paint, or draw, because that will bring them forwards.

His hands sewed the shrouds that burned over so many of his siblings. So many. They’ve sewn shut cuts and slices and wounds on almost everyone he lives in proximity to. How can he try sewing, when every needle he’s ever touched has been sticky with blood?

What hobby would you give to Will Solace? Because he really doesn’t see an option.

Still, He’s not really sure how to answer the question. 

“How are you gonna care about me,” He breathes, still internally settling on what he’s going to say. “If I don’t even fucking know me?”

Nico breathes something that sounds sort of like oh, and he pauses. Will sits in that silence, thick and dense, and hysterically, somehow, he’s fucking crying again. 

“Shit. Hey, no- I’m not, like, contemplating you, or being with you, or anything. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not gonna change. I promise. ”

Will just laughs welty, still crying. Doctor. Doctor. 

The thought isn’t really working, this time. It sort of has a cooldown period. He’s all numb in that cooldown period. He’s good at switching emotions quick, isn’t he? Maybe that could be my hobby. He’s not really present enough to register whether that thought is a joke. 

“I’m just, wondering if that’s something people actually need from a partner. I guess that makes sense, when I think about it. but I never really did before now.”

“You’re the one who asked me. You knew, subconsciously, that it’s something people are supposed to have.”

“Well, maybe. But the questions i’m asking you-“ he breathes a laugh before continuing, “They’re because that’s a part of all the advice I’ve got. Ask him what he likes to eat, and do, and what his favourite colour is. That’s what everyone told me I was supposed to do. I don’t know what I’m doing, here. I’m learning. You’re learning, too. But I’m not learning how to, like, figure out your pastimes. I’m learning how to love you. I don’t need you to have a favourite colour for me to love you, Will.”

“Love me?”

His head is raised, suddenly. Eyes still teary and breathing still choppy. But he’s looking at Nico. His face goes red, but stony as ever, Nico doesn’t falter. “You’re my best friend, even if you’re my boyfriend, too. Of course I love you, Will.” 

Oh.

He’s still. Crying. And that really just makes him cry harder, dropping his head again, his lungs all full of something that won’t go through his blood. 

“Hey. Will. Hey, look at me. Look at me. You know what?”

He looks. 

“Neither do I.” Beat. Beat. Beat.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Like it’s full of light or tar.

“Huh?”

“I spent, just, so long. I spent so long seeking kiddie vengeance, and looking for some emotional band aid. I’ve been, like, nothing but angry, for years. I don’t do much, Will. I haven’t picked up many hobbies while feeling like that. So if you can’t be cared for, because you don’t know everything about yourself? then I’m just the same. And you tell me all the time I need to accept care. There’s nothing making you any different from me, Will. You deserve this, too. ”

And it’s light. 

Light.

It’s a stupid thing.

And he’s not fixed.

But it’s every fear in his body made just that little bit smaller, that little bit less loud.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.”

Nico grins. “I know.”

Will raises both of his eyebrows. “Was that a Star Wars reference?”

Nico laughs. “Gods, what have you made of me?”

Will laughs, too. “You do know me.”

His smile softens. “You know me, too. Hobbies or not.”

And they sit with that, for a bit. Will’s breathing is uneven, but not with panic. It’s a good feeling.

They sit next to each other, right until sundown, fingers entwined, and maybe. Just maybe. This is something Will  can have. Maybe, he’s not too beat down or busy for that. 

He’s one assurance closer to believing it.

[lllivia]

I could help you

Ellie Williams x f!reader

Summary: Ellie helps you out 😛

Warnings: non apocalyptic scenario, cocky (slightly loser) Ellie, top!Ellie, bottom!reader, frustrated!reader, NOT proofread

It had only gone four out of the six weeks the doctor had ordered for you to have your cast on - and you were already feeling like you were about to rip it off with your bare hands (which of course was impossible). What luck was it that the one fucking time you felt like skating without a helmet, you had skidded over some tiny little pebble and in an attempt to break your fall - breaking your wrist instead.

It was so hard to do quite literally anything when your dominant hand was all bandaged up, but by far one of the worst things was the masturbation. God, it was so frustrating, it seemed like any little thing could set you off at this point after going so long without a release.

You had tried getting off of course, but it only ended up hurting you more than it giving any sort of measurable pleasure, which only built up the sexual frustration that was at this point running 24/7 through your veins.

-

"Soo what d'you wanna do now?" Ellie smirked up at you from where she sat on the floor, just having beaten you for like the 7th time in the row in street fighter - which she claimed was all because of her pure "talent"x and not because you had a useless hand that couldn't help you make any proper combos.

"I don't know - you tell me, it's not much I can do with this fucked up wrist that doesn't cause me any pain" you sighed and layed back down onto your bed, pissed that the broken bone once again came in your way of doing anything fun.

"Alright.. How about we play some truth or dare?" She chuckled, standing up to sit next to where you lay, immediately getting comfy on the familiar blankets.

"What are you, ten?" You couldn't help but laugh - you hadn't played truth or dare since like early high school. But Ellie only raised her eyebrow at you "Have any better idea ms. "I can't think of anything to do"?"

And ig she was right, there really wasn't anything. "Okay okay you got me" You smiled, never able to resist your best friends pretty face.

"I'll get you to spill all of your deepest and darkest secrets" she wiggled her eyebrows ridiculously as if you didn't already tell eachother basically anything. "So, truth or dare."

You thought for a second - she wouldn't make you do something really stupid, would she?who we're you kidding, she totally would.

"Truth I guess" you answered hesitantly, slightly nervous about what she might ask.

"Umm when was the last time you finished a book" she asked, clearly not having thought as far as to get to the questions.

"Seriously dumbass, you don't have anything better than that?" You laughed and slapped her knee, unbeknownst to you making her grin just with your closeness. "Your turn then.. Truth or dare?"

She shrugged "Dare, obviously. I'm not a wimp" her smirk showing off her white teeth as you playfully hit her again.

"Fine, you have to text the last person you ghosted and tell them you need them" It was your turn to smirk as Ellie's face dropped, both of you knowing exactly who she had to text.

"You asshole! You know it was Dina, I can't just message her now after like 4 months" Ellie grimaced, the memory of when she suddenly stopped texting the girl back now fresh in her mind.

"I didn't say I would play fair" the laugh escaping you sounded down right sinister as you watched the brunette pick up her phone and send the text before slamming it down again on your mattress.

"Your turn, and don't even think I'm gonna play nice now" she had moved closer in the excitement, your bodies almost pressing against each other - which neither of you felt like commenting on. Not wanting to ruin the chance of being so close.

Worried she was going to make you do something absolutely humiliating you couldn't help with going for what you thought was the easy way out again. But oh my were you wrong. "Truth."

"Are you fucking kidding me y/n! You're such a pussy" Ellie groaned before widening her eyes at the perfect question.

"Well it's not in the rules that I can't choose truth two times in a row" you cheesed, pure smugness dripping off your tone.

"When's.. The last time you jacked off?" She smirked proudly, enjoying the embarrassment that quickly embraced your face.

"What the actual fuck Ellie, you creep!" You gaped, once again punching her leg.

"Ow - Well, you have to say it. It's the rules!" Your best friend laughed loudly while throwing her head back. She had for sure gotten the reaction she wanted after her last dare.

You thought about it for a moment before rolling your eyes "ok fine.. I guess about like 4 weeks ago" looking away your cheeks started burning hot, there was definitely some kind of unspoken boundary that just got crossed. "But it's only because of this stupid useless hand that I can't fucking get off!"

Well shit, you had definitely said too much now.

It was Ellie's time to gape now, her mind starting to race at the simple sentence.

All she could think of doing was licking her cracked lips and blushing before thinking of something to say. "I could.. Help you? Yk.. If you want."

You almost laughed straight in her face. There was no way she was being serious right now, what the hell did she mean by helping you?

"..What?" Your almost squeeky voice sounded out, unable to stop the warmth pooling into your lower belly at the situation that was happening right in front of you.

"I could get you off" her body was fully turned towards you now, she couldn't even believe herself for being so bold. God, she hoped this wouldn't ruin the perfect relationship you already had.

"Okay" you answered breathely, you legs unknowingly starting to rub against each other slightly - something that didn't go unnoticed by Ellie.

"Okay?" Waiting to confirm what she thought she just heard, she could almost feel herself twitching in anticipation.

"Okay" you laughed breathily, what was happening right now.

Ellie didn't waste any more time, and practically jumped your bones on the spot. She didn't waste any time on formalities and crawled down your body until she reached your pajama pants.

"You're so pretty" she looked up and smirked "but you'd be prettier without these" she plucked at the band of your pants before letting it snap back into place.

"You're so fucking corny" you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the fact that you were basically already dripping in arousal.

"Whatever you say" her eyes never leaving you as she slid the pants down your smooth skin, however many times she had seen you change could never compare with the feeling that embraced her now while actually being the one stripping you down.

All that was left on your lower body now was your underwear, which Ellie felt the strange want to rip off with her teeth - oh how many times she had imagined you under her like this. Restraining from the action she looked up at you once again as to double check that what she was doing was alright, before finally removing your panties in a haste.

She stopped to stare for a second, taking in your beauty in case this was the one and only time she would ever do this. "You're so pretty baby, might have to break your wrist more often" You rolled your eyes playfully - even when you were basically trying to hump her face and whimpering in need.

"C'mon Ellie - just fuck me already" you breathed as she took her time viewing and kissing your thighs.

"Alright alright, no need to beg baby. I'm right here, I'll help you."

And she finally did. Her tongue gleefully licking through your already soaked folds as she held you down while you writhed. "God, you taste so good" she moaned, using two fingers to rub up and down you pussy - enjoying the slick that quickly covered her digits.

But as much as she was enjoying the look of pure need and desperation in your eyes as she teased you slowly she couldn't hold on for long before she pushed the two already lubed up fingers into you.

You immediately squeezed around her and gasped, fuck, no warning? But the slight sting from the stretch dissipated almost immediately as she started curling her fingers into you, her tongue simultaneously tracing figure 8s on your throbbing clit.

"S-shit Ellie!" Wow, you hadn't noticed how much you needed this until it was actually happening. And the fact that it was Ellie - your literal best friend and crush, that leading you towards your forthcoming orgasm was reeling you closer and closer to the edge faster than you had ever managed to do with your own fingers.

"Huh, you like that?" Her pace never slowed before she decided it was time to add a third finger, loving the feeling of you squeezing around her.

"Yes, yes! I needed this so bad" your high pitched voice sounded out while you painted for air, aggressively using your one good hand to grab onto Ellie's hair and pushing her closer to you - not even noticing as she whimpered slightly at the feeling.

"You gonna come? I mean shit, y/n, I can literally feel the way you're suffocating my fingers" She chuckled and sped up a bit as she talked.

"Mhm - yeah I'm gonna come" it seemed like the only thing in the world that was real was Ellie as she flicked her tongue one last teasing time against you.

A pleasure better than you'd ever felt crashed down all at once, almost drowning you. The warmth of Ellie's tongue never disappeared while your orgasm lasted, the girl on top of you never letting up until you were a twitching mess against her, weakly trying to push her away while whimpering lowly.

When you finally felt as though you could speak again you looked over at her already staring form, her face having a tiny blushing smile adorned all over it as she looked at you.

"Was that good?" Even after she had made you experience the most jaw dropping experience of your life she still had the nerve to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes dumbass, that was literally the best orgasm I've ever had" you grinned and layed back, closing your eyes - if you could just stay in this moment forever you would, resting as Ellie hummed and traced tiny hearts onto your bare stomach.

Well, that was so much better than playing some stupid video game.

-

a/n: I'm writing this at 1 in the morning so excuse if it's a bit wonky - ALSO SEND REQUESTS PLS, I'M OUT OF CREATIVITY 😪🙏

MAIN MASTERLIST

[theoretically-questionable]

I've often found myself confused by people who use LLMs for tasks that involve communication, even in an office or other setting where a non-trivial portion of emails/messages are 'box-checking' rather than strictly interpersonally communicative.

Having thought it over, I think the difference in attitudes is probably akin to the split between people who value small talk and people who regard it, with extreme distaste, as "pointless and annoying": i.e., there is something the former is getting out of small talk that the latter group is not.

This is mostly just a rambling tangent, but oh well.

I like communicating and I do so with intent. I've heard the sentiment from some other autistic people that they'd love to have an 'autoresponder'-style module for their brain to automate away layers of necessary-but-draining/pointless conversation. Never been able to relate, in significant part because doing so would give people communicating with said autoresponder the entirely wrong impression about how I was feeling.

The purpose to communication is to transmit information from one person to another. There are so many layers to this information — something I have definitely struggled with, as an autistic person. Some of those layers were totally opaque to me for a long time. Hell, sometimes I didn't even know some layers existed.

In a collaborative environment, even rote/'pointless' communication rituals have a huge density of information. That is the point. It is important. If Joe Bloggs over in HR replies to my routine email confirming details for this week's parking garage allotments in a more abrupt way than usual, or slower than usual, that's contextual information.

Maybe I'll pick up that he's probably got a lot on his plate or feeling stressed. Maybe that's not relevant. Maybe I need someone from HR to do something later that day, and then I can either loop in someone else from the department or just know to approach Joe tactfully, rather than just passing the task along as I usually would.

When people start using LLMs to write emails, summarize meetings, and 'touch up' all of their work, all of that context turns to unparseable sludge. It's entirely random. You can't "get used to" how someone writes and learn to pick up context clues when everything longer than a single-sentence reply is being filtered through an LLM.

It genuinely ends up being a bit of a nightmare for me, having absolutely no access to any kind of context, just taking a ride down a river of vaguely polite- and professional-sounding drivel, all without even the barest grace of useful context. It just... makes things worse. It becomes a self-perpetuating loop with no eject button.

If it's really easy for everyone to maintain the 'professionalspeak' facade, nobody ever has times when they break the facade. And *breaking the facade* is important. Being able to shape the communication norms of your department/company over time is... I mean, I think it's essential? Willingly choosing "we all communicate via LLM" seems horrifying, like not just acquiescing to but actively reinforcing the worst parts of corporate expectations of overly sanitized communication standards handed down from your manager's manager.

And yeah, some of my feelings on the matter are definitely my own baggage, but it feels just as frustrating as having to work with someone who actively scorns 'small talk' and deliberately makes every single communication as stripped-down as possible — and ends up being less efficient overall, not more, because what they're actually doing is refusing to engage with their colleagues or make sure they're getting all the right information across.

The other thing is that LLMs don't actually, by default, have access to all the information you do. If you want to get specific information across in the output, you have to give it to the LLM first. I've never hit a scenario where I would have preferred an LLM-generated email instead of. like. just the bullet-point list of information that was used when prompting it.

If you're time-poor and easily frustrated by communication tedium, I would rather *know that*, and know for sure that none of the information you're giving me has been twiddled accidentally to be slightly wrong by a context-free LLM, than get 'professionally formatted' emails from you all the time.

the scariest thing about the generative AI thing is how quickly people have accepted it as an indefinite, irrevocable part of their reality. people have genuinely convinced themselves that ChatGPT is the only solution to most tasks - tasks they did with their own brain without any large effort two years ago. like you know damn well all of us used to write emails ourselves why are we pretending like this is an impossible task to do with your own two hands. what's with the fucking. AI revisionism. i feel like i am going insane.

[rotapathetic]

˒ HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE teaching reader to skate . · . .

not beating the mini him allegations 𓈀 ⟡ he doesn’t get hurt in this one! 𓈀 ⟡ himbo introduction

rafe runs over when he sees you about to fall backwards, grabbing you by your waist and holding you above the ground as the board continues to roll in front of you. you huff, arms down at your sides in defeat. “why does it keep leaving me?”

rafe shakes his head, “that thing is nothing like me. i would love you on top of me.” you giggle as rafe sets you down.

“well, what did i do wrong? i tried it like you showed me.” rafe had been showing you a few tricks, trying them on the board with you, then letting you do them by yourself. this was the first that didn’t land.

race shrugged, poking at your pout, “i didn’t get it the first time either. it’s like you’re just like me. . what a coincidence,” he teased. you slightly pushed at him, “okay, dude. just say it.” rafe frowned innocently. “say what. .” he headed towards the skateboard, then whispered in your ear as he passed you, “. .mini me.”

he didn’t bother hiding his smile as he retrieved the board then returned to you. “want to try a different one? i don’t want you getting hurt. not that i doubt you can do it, but if you get a scrape, we’re leaving.”

you shook your head, “no, i want to do it. can you do it with me on the board again?” rafe rose a brow, “i get to hold you again? of course,” he placed down the board, assisting you on top.

he stepped on behind you, pushing you two forward. “now, when i kick it at the back, jump up and switch sides, okay?” you nod, holding onto rafe’s arms wrapped around you.

and when he did, and you did as he said, and the board landed, rafe pushed down on the back to stop the board. you squealed, turning to face him. “i’ve totally got it, can i try again?”

rafe wouldn’t be able to say no to anything you asked him as long as you kept smiling up at him like that. “you can ask me to bang this board over my head repeatedly and i’d say yes. yeah, go ahead,” he stepped back and gave you two thumbs up with a smile like he didn’t say the first part of his sentence. you doubt he even realized he said it out loud.

you focused on the board, gave yourself momentum, did what rafe did and kicked up the back of the board, and landed back on it, facing the opposite direction you started in. stopping the board, you looked back excitedly to see rafe punching his arms in the air.

“yeah, she did! she’s a natural and the crowd is losing their crap right now,” he mock announced.

you picked up the board, running back to rafe who picked you up in a spin. you were grinning as he sat you down. his face suddenly turned serious as he held a nonexistent microphone up to his mouth, “miss cameron, how do you feel about landing that trick?” he held the ‘mic’ out to you.

you smiled up at him, “amazing. with the help of my incredible boyfriend,” you spoke to his hand. rafe glanced to your side, brows raising, “i think i see him heading over.”

he stepped to the side of you, raising his hands in a double high five, “good job, baby.” you both were grinning silly as you returned the high fives.

[wingedhallows]

hi ! you asked me to send you my request here (i hope this is working though, i'm still trying to figure out how the app works...) so that you don't forget about it, so here it is again :

just noticed you wanted us to send you asks so here i am :) unfortunately, i don't have any great inspiration to share with you at the moment… anything with vi or ellie williams (my girlsss) is always nice to see. but other than that, completing basketball!vi x ballerina!reader would be super cool, if it's something you'd be happy to do, of course ! (yup, i'm still obsessed with that one…)

bye 🫶 have a great day !

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 loser!ellie x reader / 1.2 k words ♒︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 HI !! I'm totally working on 'labyrinth love' right now, maybe i'll drop the last part tonight! this is a little something that's been sitting in my drafts & i think you'll like it (hopefully) so, here u go!!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You’re all crammed into Dina’s apartment—some shitty couch, a couple floor cushions, an overturned laundry basket being used as a table.

Music low, drinks half-finished, someone’s passed out in the corner with a blanket that definitely smells like weed and regret.

And Ellie? Ellie’s on the floor, back against your knees, launching into the most insane rant you’ve ever heard.

“…I’m just saying,” she says, hand flailing with a cheeto between her fingers, “If birds wanted to be evil, they totally could. Like, they’ve got flight and hollow bones and talons. You ever seen a goose, man? Those things are demonic.”

The room is silent for half a beat.

“Anyway,” she adds, like she’s just delivered a TED Talk, “that’s why I never trust anything with wings and an attitude.”

Jesse blinks slowly. “Dude, what the fuck?”

But you?

You’re grinning. Fingers carding through Ellie’s hair absently, like you love hearing her unhinged theories about avian world domination. You lean down a little and whisper near her ear, “so… if I wore wings, would you be scared of me?”

Ellie’s neck goes red in an instant. “What—no—wait—maybe? I mean, not in a bad way! Like, in a cool, terrifying, kinda hot way—”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse mutters. “She’s in love.”

“She’s doomed,” Dina adds, sipping from her beer.

But Ellie’s barely listening—because she’s twisted halfway around to look up at you, and you’re still smiling at her, still stroking her hair, still looking at her like she’s the smartest, funniest person alive.

And she’s melting.

“You’re, like…” she breathes, squinting. “Really pretty.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second.

“…Thanks, babe.”

“No, like. Really. It’s a problem. You’re smiling at me and I forget how words work. And my brain just goes: pretty. smile. girlfriend. And then there’s just static up here.”

She taps her forehead with two fingers, completely serious.

And you just laugh—soft and sweet—and lean down to press a kiss to her temple.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD,” Jesse groans, falling back on the couch like he’s been shot. “How the hell did Ellie pull her?”

“I feel like I’m watching a golden retriever date a goddess,” Dina mutters. “It’s disturbing.”

Ellie turns scarlet, burying her face in your thigh. “Don’t listen to them,” she mumbles. “They’re just jealous.”

You smile down at her, hand curling under her chin to tilt her up again.

“I think you’re perfect.”

Ellie malfunctions. Fully. Stares at you with big, round eyes like you just offered to marry her on the spot.

She mouths perfect? like she’s never heard the word before.

And all you do is nod.

Because you mean it.

Ellie’s still staring up at you, stunned, her face half-buried in your thigh. Everyone else has moved on to another round of some dumb card game Jesse’s pitching, but she’s still stock-still.

You called her perfect.

Her. Ellie “accidentally-walked-into-the-wrong-classroom-and-sat-there-for-40-minutes” Williams. Ellie who once used a sock to hold her blunt ‘cause she lost her lighter and burned her thumb last time. Perfect.

“You good, babe?” you murmur, hand gently brushing her cheek.

She blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m chill. Totally chill. Just, y’know, experiencing a full emotional reboot. It’s fine.”

You giggle and press another kiss to the top of her head, and she whines softly into your leg like she can’t handle the affection.

Eventually, someone mentions it’s past one, and the room starts to empty out. You tug Ellie up by her hoodie strings, and she stands like she’s been resurrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder and mumbling something about “walking you back.”

Outside, it’s cool and quiet. The kind of early campus stillness where every window glows soft yellow and the street lamps flicker like they’re just as tired as the students.

You lace your fingers through hers, and she tenses for half a second before relaxing—then squeezing back.

She glances sideways at you. “So. Uh. I meant to ask. That thing you said back there—was that, like, real? Or were you just saying it ‘cause I said your smile makes my brain explode?”

You stop walking and tug her back a little, fingers still locked. “You mean the perfect thing?”

Her whole face goes red again. “That’s the one.”

You shrug, playful. “Guess you’ll have to get used to hearing it.”

She stares. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re actually gonna kill me. Death by girlfriend compliment. Local lesbian found deceased on sorority row sidewalk.”

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” she says immediately, too fast, too much. And then realizes, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, ignore that, that was—that slipped out, I didn’t mean to—well I did, but I didn’t mean to say it, not like that, I was gonna wait ‘til, like, Valentine’s Day or a meteor shower or something cool—”

You stop her with a kiss. Gentle. Quick. Just enough to make her forget what planet she’s on.

When you pull back, she’s blinking, dazed. “…was that a good kiss or a ‘shut up, loser’ kiss?”

You smile. “Both.”

She huffs. “Rude.”

But you’re smiling at her with that look again—the one that says she’s yours, chaos and all—and she leans in close, bumping her forehead to yours.

“I meant it,” she mumbles. “Even if it was an accidental I-love-you. I do.”

You tilt your head, whisper back, “Me too.”

Ellie practically floats the rest of the way to your dorm. You part with another kiss, and she’s halfway down the hall before she turns around, walking backward and beaming.

“You still think I’m perfect?”

You laugh. “I think you’re mine.”

And that’s all it takes. Ellie bolts out of sight before you see the way she pumps her fist in the air, quietly muttering, “holy shit, holy shit, I have the best girlfriend on earth.”

She’s standing in the middle of her room. Hoodie still half-on, phone gripped like it’s both her lifeline and her greatest threat.

Her cat’s staring up at her from the bed, judgmental as hell.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters, flopping onto the mattress. “You didn’t see her. She said I’m hers. I had no choice but to fall apart.”

The cat blinks.

Ellie’s phone buzzes.

[You]: made it back okay? [You]: you looked like you were floating

She groans, punches her pillow a little, and then types back:

[Ellie]: i was not floating [Ellie]: i am very grounded. like a normal person. a grounded, non-floating person who is extremely chill and not thinking about your lips at all.

Immediate regret.

She throws the phone face down on the bed.

The cat meows. “I panicked, okay?”

Buzz.

[You]: you’re so dumb. i’m smiling so hard it hurts [You]: love you, loser. goodnight.

Ellie clutches her phone to her chest and lets out a long, dreamy “fuck.”

Then she whispers it again, grinning “She loves me.”

[lavandadiana]

Nice's Support System

Thanks to this post by @kiraisrika for giving me brainrot and had me spend my lunch break writing this for the past two weeks

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒

Word Count 🜲 1,614

TW 🜲 Attempted suicide

Constructive criticism is welcome! Let me know if I miss a TW or a tag. :)

Also, on Ao3!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🜲⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒🜲𓈒

“Is that Nice?” Lin Ling thought. He lowered his hand as the “Perfect” hero flew towards him; towards the roof’s edge. “What is he doing here?” Lin Ling pondered. As Lin Ling was about to open his mouth, Nice smiled and shoot his signature pose at Lin Ling before his foot was over the edge.

Lin Ling’s eyes widened as his hands reached out, grabbing Nice’s arm, his feet planted against the roof’s risen edge. “What the hell are you doing?!” Lin Ling yelled as he used his entire body weight to hold the suicidal hero.

Nice struggled against Lin Ling’s hold. “What the- Let go of me!” “No way! Whatever’s wrong, I’m sure jumping to your death isn’t the answer!” Nice’s eyes widen as tears pricked his eyes. Nice stopped struggling and flew upwards, slightly lifting Lin Ling into the air.

As soon as Lin Ling’s and Nice’s feet touched the floor, Lin Ling, still holding Nice’s hand, gasped for air. “W-Why?! Why did you try to kill yourself?” Nice’s eyes widened as he looked at him before his gaze turn to Lin’s hand on his arm.

“Because... I’m tired... I’m so tired of being Nice...” Nice said as he wiped away his tears. Lin Ling’s eyes widened as he removed his hand from Nice’s arm. “I... I’m sorry... But killing yourself isn’t the answer!” Lin Ling yelled at him. “Then why are you here?”

Lin Ling’s eyes widen as heat flushed to his cheeks “I-I’m different! Yo-you’re perfect, you’re amazing, you’re Nice! I’m nothing like you... I- I don’t have a great relationship with my family, I don’t have a girlfriend, I’d just got fired, not even an hour ago, and my dreams of being a hero totally got crushed.”

“I have nothing to lose, but you... You have everything to lose ...“ Lin Ling cries, his head fallen forward as tear droplets hit the concrete roof floor. Nice’s soften his gaze at him. “I- I’m not perfect ... I’m forced to be perfect... But I- I would rather be you.”

Nice said his voice, wavering with emotions. Nice took a deep breath and held his hand out. “What’s your name?” Lin Ling sniffled as he blinked away any remaining tears and shook Nice’s outstretched hand. “Lin Ling. What about you? I don’t think you want me to Keep calling you Nice.”

Nice smiled; Not his signature smile, but a genuine smile. “Actually, I would like it if you can keep calling me Nice. Hearing you saying my name is music to my ears. Like a breath of fresh air.”

Lin Ling’s cheeks heats up as he turns his head away to the side."D-Don’t say that ... Well, if it stops you from killing yourself ..." Lin Ling sighed and sharpen his gaze at him.

“Are you still going to kill yourself?” Nice sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Well... Yeah? Treeman wouldn’t exactly get me therapy. Wouldn’t want news of the perfect hero being in therapy or suicidal.”

“And the only way from me to not be Nice is to kill myself... unless...” Nice looked at Lin Ling and smiled. “You said that you’d want to be a hero, right?” Lin Ling nodded. “Yeah. What about it?” “How would you like to be my hero?!” Nice exclaimed as he leaned forward, his face inches away from Lin Ling’s face. “Huh?!” Lin Ling pulled away, slightly jumping back. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know about me being suicidal, and I enjoy talking to you. So how would you like to be my emotional support human?!” “Huh?! Wait... I’m supposed to be like those emotional support pets?!” Lin Ling exclaimed, not believing Nice’s words.

Nice nodded, floating in the air, his face inches away from Lin Ling’s. “You’ll obviously get paid, and you’ll basically be my side 24/7!” “Huh?! Wa-wait! What do you mean by your side 24/7?! Wha-what about when you fight?! What’s going to happen to me?!”

Nice landed, his body inches away from Lin Ling’s body. Nice paused for a moment; Nice’s blue eyes staring into Lin Ling’s brown eyes. Nice’s face morphed into a cheeky smile. “I’ll protect you, of course! Although, the thought of you being in danger leaves a bad feeling in my heart ...”

“He’ll be with me, then.” Both Nice and Lin Ling jumped at Miss J’s voice. They turned around and saw Miss J standing there, her face morphed into a stern look, her arms crossed over her chest, and her bodyguards behind her.

“What?! No way! I’m not letting him anywhere near you!” Nice frowned, baring his teeth, his body in front of Lin Ling, as if he’s a shield. Miss J, nonchalant, just sighed and shook her head. “Although, I’d much prefer if Lin Ling to signs an NDA in return for a handsome reward.”

Nice gritted his teeth, but took a deep breath. He looked back at Lin Ling; Nice’s expression is one of concern and fear. “Lin Ling, what do you want to do? Do you want to be my support system, or do you want to get paid and sign an NDA?”

Lin Ling pondered for a moment. If he signs an NDA, he’ll get paid. He’ll have enough for bills and rent while he looks for a new job. But what would happen with Nice? Will he still try to kill himself? How much can Nice take before they push him too far?

On the other hand, if he becomes Nice’s support system, he’ll get to see the real Nice; he could be a hero to Nice and maybe he’ll get to see Moon. Call him selfish, but Moon is still his idol, even though Nice is creeping into his number 1 spot.

Lin Ling made up his mind. He stared at Nice and Miss J, his face stern as he nodded. “I made up my mind. I want to be Nice’s support system.” As soon as he said those fated words, Nice jumped and flew to Lin Ling, hugging him in the air, while Miss J let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine... I’ll let Treeman Corporation know about Lin Ling and his role with you. Since Lin Ling will be by your side 24/7, I’ll have someone rearranged your floor at hero tower.” Miss J said, already contacting someone on her tablet.

“No need, Lin Ling will sleep with me!” “Yeah... wait, what?! Isn’t Moon living with you?!” Lin Ling asked; his expression is one of shock. “Well, yeah, but I can kick her out.” Nice nonchalantly said. “You are not kicking Moon out! And you and Lin Ling won’t be sleeping in the same bed!” Miss J growled at the nonchalant Nice. Miss J pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe I’ll just have Lin Ling live close to you ...” Miss J contemplated. “Then I’ll live with Lin Ling in his new place!” Nice smiled. Miss J gritted her teeth, but before she can speak, Lin Ling spoke up.

“It’s okay, Miss J. I’ll live with Nice and Moon, but I’m not going to sleeping with Nice in bed; there, a compromise between two wants!” Miss J nodded. “Not bad, kid. That’s an acceptable compromise; In the meantime, you,“ Miss J pointed at her one of her bodyguards. “Get to the ground quick. Nice; princess carry Lin Ling, smile at him and slowly fly down. “Huh?!” “On it!”

Without hesitation, Nice princess carried Lin Ling, smiled at him, and slowly flew down the building."Wa-wait!" Lin Ling stuttered, his eyes widened in shock as his cheeks heats up. On the ground, one of Miss J’s bodyguards held a phone out and took a photo of the scene.

Once Nice and Lin Ling landed safety on the ground, Miss J walked out of the building and towards them. The bodyguard handed Miss J the phone, and she looks over the photos and nodded. “These are acceptable.” She pockets the phone and looks at Nice, still carrying Lin Ling.

“You can put him down now.” As soon as she said those words, Nice and Lin Ling’s cheeks turned red, and Lin Ling scrambled out of Nice’s arm, stumbling a bit once both of his feet touched the ground. “So, what was that photo for?” Lin Ling asked, trying to change the subject.

“I’ll have someone write a news article about Nice saving this civilian from suicide and, from time to time, checks up with him. It helps raises Nice’s trust value and covers up any time you both go out in public together.” Miss J says, not once looking up from her tablet.

“Hmm... Not bad, Miss J. Now Lin Ling, you ready to go home?” Nice says, looking into Lin Ling’s eyes, a genuine smile plastered on his face.

Lin ling, cheeks red, nodded. “Yeah, let’s go home, Nice.” Lin Ling smiled back. Nice smiles even wider and Princess carried Lin Ling. “Ah! What the hell!!” “Hold on tight!” “Wait! Nice! Hold on- AHH!” Lin Ling screamed, wrapping his arms around Nice’s neck as Nice flew fast in the air and carried Lin Ling home to their now shared living space.

Miss J shook her head as she puts away her tablet. She looks at her bodyguards. “Get the limo. God, explaining this to Moon is going to be a headache...” She says, looking annoyed but the small smile on her face says otherwise. “Good luck, kid. I wish you the best of luck.” Miss J muttered under her breath as she steps into the limousine, driving towards Hero Tower to explain this situation to Moon and to lay some ground rules.

[ratatoilett]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

nylu's note : OK HOLD ON I LOVE THESE SNEAKY LITTLE RENDEVOUS SHIT

it wasn’t supposed to turn into a thing. but now it definitely is a thing.

it started after a sparring match — a draw, technically, but Bakugou called it "a pity win" and you called him "a sore loser with anger management issues." somehow, that turned into grabbing him by the collar and kissing the attitude off his face behind the gym.

now, you’re here. you, bakugou, and an unspoken agreement to sneak up to the rooftop whenever you could get away with it and make out like idiots.

totally healthy coping mechanism. very mature.

today, it’s the middle of lunch. you’re picking at a tray of mystery meat when something bounces off your shoe under the table.

you glance down: a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

subtle.

you unfold it under the table.

"12:35. roof. move your ass."

professional as always.

you bite back a grin and scribble back:

"busy. big meeting with my lawyer (aka literally anyone else I'd rather kiss)."

you flick it back with a perfect wrist snap — years of flicking erasers at the back of bakugou’s head finally paying off. It lands in his lap. he unfolds it, reads, and shoots you a glare that could fry a lesser human.

you wink across the room like the picture of innocence.

at exactly 12:35, you slip out of the cafeteria with the world’s most half-assed excuse. bakugou’s already at the stairwell, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he owns the whole building.

"you’re late," he says.

you glance at your watch. "it’s 12:36."

"that’s late."

"okay, captain time management," you say, brushing past him to climb the stairs first. "next time i’ll bring a stopwatch."

"yeah, and maybe a personality too," he mutters, following.

you shoot him a look over your shoulder. "aw, it’s cute how you try to neg me like that. It's almost like you think it's working."

he just smirks — that cocky, lazy smirk he knows drives you insane — and holds the door open at the top of the stairs.

"you’re the one sprinting up here like a lovesick puppy," he says.

"i’m here for the fresh air," you lie easily. "and the view. sometimes I pity you enough to let you be part of it."

"you're so full of shit," he says, grabbing your jacket and yanking you in.

the door clicks shut, and suddenly it’s just the two of you, all that sharpness dissolving the second he kisses you.

bakugou kisses like he fights — intense, focused, a little desperate. like he’s trying to win at it somehow.

you break away just long enough to catch your breath.

"little aggressive today, huh?" you tease, hands sliding into the collar of his uniform.

"you’re mouthy today," he says, crowding you back against the door.

"i’m mouthy every day," you point out.

he huffs a laugh against your jaw, and it sends a little thrill down your spine.

"you like it," you add, grinning.

"debatable."

you kiss him again just to prove a point, and he kisses you back like it’s a challenge.

typical.

when you finally pull apart — barely — you’re both breathing a little harder than you want to admit. you fix your shirt, pat your hair down, and try to look like you weren’t just two seconds away from climbing him like a tree.

"you've got," bakugou gestures vaguely to your mouth, "lipstick. right there."

you wipe at the wrong side of your face.

"other side," he says, smirking like he’s enjoying this way too much.

"you’re useless," you grumble, trying again.

"you're the one who can't figure out left and right," he says, flicking your forehead lightly.

you swat at him, but he’s already turning toward the stairs like he didn��t just kiss the hell out of you ten seconds ago.

"you realize one day we’re gonna get caught," you say, jogging to catch up.

"not if you shut up and walk normal," he says.

you scoff. "i always walk normal. you’re the one stomping around like you’re about to arrest someone."

"if anyone’s getting arrested, it’s you. for harassment."

you laugh under your breath. "please. you’re practically begging for it."

he glances at you, a flash of something almost fond under the usual gruffness.

"maybe," he mutters.

you bump his shoulder lightly as you hit the bottom of the stairs.

and when you walk into the cafeteria separately — faces calm, clothes rumpled just enough to get away with it — you think for half a second you’ve pulled it off.

until kirishima squints at you.

then at bakugou.

then back at you.

you freeze.

kirishima leans across the table, voice low and conspiratorial.

"you two been working on, like, a secret handshake or something?"

bakugou snorts and sits down like nothing's wrong.

you just smile sweetly and say, "yep. very secret. top level hero stuff."

kirishima nods seriously. "cool. respect."

you catch bakugou smirking at you over his tray.

later, when you're back in class, another crumpled piece of paper lands in your lap.

"tomorrow. 12:35. same deal. try not to look so desperate this time."

you grin as you write back:

"i’ll try. no promises. you're kind of irresistible."

you flick it back.

it lands perfectly in his lap.

bakugou catches it without missing a beat, and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

yeah. this thing between you?

definitely not stopping anytime soon.

[kisswoniie]

❝you lost?❞

オタク˖ 𝑓em!r .. inexperienced nerd jungwon!—suggestive. smut. romantic?

tw: mdni (18+)— making out. drinking. smoking one cigarette. unprotected sex. p in v. loss of virginity.

note: nerdy inexperienced jungwon forced by his popular friends to go to their party when he meets you 💋

Jungwon wasn’t supposed to be here.

The bass from the party thumped through the walls of the dimly lit study, muffled but persistent. He glanced down at the half-filled red cup in his hand, the chemical-smelling concoction inside as unappealing as the atmosphere around him. The noise outside was loud enough to make his head throb, but he still preferred the relative quiet of this room over the chaos in the living room.

“Damn Jay and Jake,” he muttered, setting the cup down on the polished desk. His best friends—if he could even call them that at the moment—had dragged him to this party under the guise of “broadening his horizons.” Whatever that meant. Now they were somewhere out there, laughing with strangers while Jungwon had no ride home and no clue how he’d survive the night without losing his mind.

He tried to focus on something—anything—to distract himself. The study, filled with shelves of books and knick-knacks, would’ve been cozy if it weren’t for the faint stench of alcohol and weed that lingered in the air. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and leaned back in the chair, wishing he’d stayed at the library. The door creaked open.

Jungwon froze, expecting one of his friends or another drunk stranger to stumble in. Instead, it was you.

You didn’t look like you belonged here either, but not for the same reasons as Jungwon. Your vibe was… different. The dim light glinted off the silver ball of your tongue piercing as you smirked, the smell of smoke clinging faintly to your leather jacket. Your dark eyes swept over the room before landing on him.

“You lost?” you asked, your voice low, almost teasing.

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard by your presence, let alone you talking to him. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice him tonight, let alone someone like you.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh… no. I’m not lost. Just… stuck. Got dragged here and can’t leave.”

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “That sucks.” You looked at him for a moment, your gaze curious but not unkind. “Wanna bail?” Jungwon frowned. “What?”“There’s a park nearby,” you said, straightening up. “Cool willow tree. Good spot to chill. Better than this place, anyway.”

It took him a moment to respond, his heart thudding in his chest for reasons he couldn’t quite place. He hesitated, the unfamiliarity of the situation pressing down on him. But then, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. Your lips curved into a small smile, and you gestured for him to follow.

The walk to the park was quiet at first, save for the crunch of your shoes on the gravel path and the occasional distant sound of traffic. Jungwon stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, unsure of what to say, while you lit a cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the dark.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence as you neared the park’s entrance, “you’re Jungwon, right?” He glanced at you, surprised. “You know my name?”

“Yeah,” you said casually, exhaling smoke into the cool night air. “You’re in my English class. Always sitting in the front with your hand raised. Like a total nerd.” His cheeks burned. “I—uh—yeah, I guess that’s me.” You smirked. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s kinda cute.” Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. Were you… flirting with him? No, that couldn’t be it. You were probably just teasing.

“What about you?” he asked, desperate to shift the focus. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d remember someone like me.”“Someone like you?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you know… someone boring.” You laughed softly, a sound that surprised him. “You’re not boring. And for the record, I remember everyone. People just assume I don’t because I don’t show up half the time.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked before he could stop himself. You shrugged. “Not really my scene. School, I mean. People talk too much, make too many assumptions. Gets exhausting.” They fell into a comfortable silence as they entered the park. The willow tree stood in the distance, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. You led the way, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with your boot. When they reached the tree, you plopped down on the grass, leaning back against the trunk. Jungwon hesitated before sitting beside you, keeping a bit of space between them.

“You’re kind of awkward, huh?” you teased, looking over at him. “Is it that obvious?” he muttered, earning another laugh from you. They sat there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. You shared stories about sneaking out of your house, your love for old horror movies, and your secret talent for drawing. Jungwon, in turn, told you about his obsession with reading, his plans for college, and his struggles with fitting in. Eventually, the conversation turned deeper.

“I’ve never, you know… done anything with a girl,” Jungwon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at him, your expression softening. “That’s not a bad thing.” “I feel like it is,” he said. “Like everyone else my age has figured it out except me. Jay and Jake make fun of me all the time for it.”“They’re just being dummies,” You said firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not as experienced as people think I am.”

Jungwon looked at you, surprised. “Really?” “Yeah,” you said, picking at the grass. “People love to talk, but most of it’s not true. I’ve only been with one guy. And even that was… whatever.” You sighed. “It sucks being the ‘easy girl.’ Like, no one even knows me, but they all think they do.” “I get that,” Jungwon said quietly. “I mean, not the same thing, but… I hate being the nerd everyone picks on. Like those guys who play football and act like they’re better than everyone else, even though they’re probably gonna peak in high school. Half of them probably have herpes by now.”

You laughed again, this time louder, your head tilting back against the tree. “You’re funny, Jungwon. Who knew?” He smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel out of place.

Jungwon leaned his head back against the trunk of the willow tree, staring up at the swaying branches. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting soft, dappled shadows on the ground. He felt lighter somehow, as if all the weight of the party and the world outside had melted away.

“You know,” You said after a pause, your voice softer now, “you’re kinda refreshing.” Jungwon turned his head to look at you. “Refreshing?” “Yeah,” you said, twirling a blade of grass between your fingers. “You’re not trying to impress anyone. You’re just… you. It’s nice.” He swallowed hard, the sincerity in your tone making his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. “Thanks,” he murmured. “You’re… not what I expected either.” You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’d you expect?” “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess… I thought you’d be intimidating. You have this reputation, you know?”You rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t fade. “Yeah, I know. But people’s reputations are usually crap, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you then, really looked at you—the way the moonlight made your dark hair shimmer, the way your lips curved, soft but teasing. You turned to meet his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. “Can I kiss you?” he blurted out before he could think better of it. You blinked, startled, but then your lips curved into a slow, genuine smile. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I—uh—sorry, I didn’t mean to—” “Hey,” you interrupted, leaning in just slightly. “Relax. I didn’t say no.” Your face was close to his now, your dark eyes searching his. He could feel your breath, warm against his skin, and the faint scent of smoke mixed with something sweet he couldn’t place. He closed the distance hesitantly, his lips brushing yours in the lightest, gentlest way. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. Jungwon’s heart raced, his hands fumbling awkwardly before settling on your waist. It was clumsy and uncertain, but you didn’t seem to mind. You kissed him slowly, guiding him, your lips soft and sure against his. When you finally pulled apart, Jungwon was breathless, his face flushed.

“Was that… okay?” he asked nervously. You chuckled, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Yeah, Jungwon. That was okay.” He smiled shyly, a laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay.” You lay back on the grass, pulling him down with you. You propped yourself up on one elbow, your other hand tracing absent patterns on his arm. “So, for someone who’s never kissed a girl, you’re not half bad.” Jungwon grinned. “Thanks, I guess.” You tilted your head, your expression softening. “You wanna keep going? Only if you’re comfortable, though.”

His heart thudded against his ribs. He hesitated, the nervousness swirling in his chest mixing with curiosity and something else—something he hadn’t felt before. He nodded. “Yeah. I—I think I do.” You smiled, leaning in again, your lips meeting his as the night around them seemed to fade away.

Jungwon’s hands trembled as you guided them to your waist, your lips pressing against his with an urgency that sent sparks racing through his body. He could feel your smile against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently.

You pulled back for a moment, your breath hitching as you took in his flushed face, his wide eyes, and the way he nervously licked his lips. Your gaze dropped briefly to his chest, and bit your lip. “Thank the universe I’m wearing a dress,” you muttered under your breath, a flicker of mischief in your tone. “What?” Jungwon asked, half-dazed.

“Nothing,” you said with a smirk, your hands sliding under the hem of his hoodie to trace the hard lines of his torso. Your fingers brushed over his light abs, and you let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve been hiding all this under those sweaters? Damn, Jungwon.”

He flushed a deeper shade of red, his breath catching as you squeezed his sides, your touch exploring. You shifted slightly, your thigh brushing against him, and he swallowed hard.“You’re so much hotter than I thought,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. Your hands moved lower, cupping his tiny waist and firm ass. He gasped softly, his eyes widening as you smirked against his lips. “Relax,” you whispered, your voice teasing but warm.

You leaned back against the grass, pulling him down with you. Your fingers guided his head to your neck, and he hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to your skin. You sighed, your hand curling into his hair as you murmured, “Suck a little. Right there.” He obeyed, his lips closing over the delicate skin of your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a soft moan, the sound sending a jolt of heat through him. Emboldened, he let his kisses trail lower, his hands fumbling slightly as he unbuttoned the top part of your dress.

The fabric fell away, revealing the curve of your black lace bra. Jungwon froze for a moment, his breath catching as he took you in. You reached for his hand, guiding it to your breast. He cupped it gently, his thumb brushing over the lace, and you arched into his touch. “You’re a quick learner,” you teased, your voice breathless. His lips followed the path of your hand, kissing along your collarbone and down to your chest. His mouth hovered over her bra, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission. You nodded, your fingers threading through his hair again. His kisses grew bolder, his lips and tongue exploring the soft curve of your breast. Your breaths turned into quiet moans, your body shifting beneath him. One of his hands, almost on instinct, began to trail down your side, brushing over the smooth fabric of your dress until it reached your thigh. His fingers grazed the edge of your panties, and he froze again, his heart pounding. You let out a soft laugh, your hand covering his.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, guiding him. When his hand finally pressed against the damp fabric of your panties, his breath hitched. He’d never felt anything like this before—warm, soft, and inviting. He rubbed his fingers against you experimentally, and you let out a low moan, your hips pressing into his touch. “No need to tease,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I’m already ready for your cock.”

The words sent a shiver down his spine, his hands trembling as you reached for his belt. You both struggled together, movements frantic and excited, until his pants fell down his hips, pooling at his knees. You spread your legs slightly, your dress bunching around your waist, you reached between your thighs to guide him to your entrance. Jungwon hesitated, his heart racing as he felt the warmth of you against him. “It’s okay,” you whispered again, your voice soft and reassuring. “Just go slow.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he pressed forward. The sensation was overwhelming—hot, tight, and impossibly good. He groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as you moaned softly beneath him. The feeling of being so close, so connected, left you both breathless as you moved together under the swaying branches of the willow tree.

Jungwon’s movements started hesitant, slow and careful, as though he was afraid of doing something wrong. Your soft encouragements—your hands in his hair, your lips brushing his temple, you whispered “It’s okay”—helped him ease into the rhythm. But then something shifted.

The way you moaned his name, breathy and desperate, sent a thrill through him, lighting something inside that he didn’t even know was there. His hesitance melted into something bolder, hungrier, and suddenly it was like he knew.

His hips snapped forward with more purpose, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Your nails dug into his back as he found a steady rhythm, each thrust making you arch against him.“Jungwon,” you gasped, your voice trembling, “oh my God, Jungwon.”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. The way you said his name, like a song, like it was the only word you knew, made him feel unstoppable. His lips found your neck again, leaving open-mouthed kisses, his breath hot against your skin.“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, surprising even himself. “So tight… so wet. God, Y/n, you’re perfect.” Your breath hitched at his words, your hands tugging him closer. “Where… where did you learn to talk like that?” you managed to say, your voice broken by a moan.

He didn’t answer right away, too lost in the way your body moved with his. Instead, his lips curved into a grin against your neck. “Guess I’m a fast learner,” he said, his voice tinged with a newfound confidence. You could barely think, your body overwhelmed by the heat of him, the way he filled you completely. You wasn’t expecting this—wasn’t expecting him to take control like this, to know exactly where to touch, what to say, how to make you lose yourself. But you weren’t complaining. His pace quickened, and you could feel the tension building inside you, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Jungwon, I—”

“I know,” he cut you off, his voice a growl. “Cum for me, Y/n. I want to feel it. I want to hear you.” The way he said it, like he was giving you permission to let go, pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name, your voice echoing into the night. Your legs tightened around his waist, your nails dragging down his back as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

The sight of you—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes glazed with ecstasy—was enough to undo him. He buried his face in your neck, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name falling from his lips like a plea. “God, you’re… you’re everything.” With one last thrust, he stilled, his body trembling as he came, the sensation overwhelming. For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the faint rustle of the willow tree above them.

Jungwon collapsed beside you on the grass, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The night was quiet again, the only sounds the rustling of the willow tree and their still-uneven breathing. You turned your head to look at him, your hair fanned out around you. You seemed almost dazed, your lips parted slightly, your cheeks flushed. A soft laugh escaped you as you reached over to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “No one has ever came inside me before,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, as if you were speaking more to yourself than him. Then, after a beat, you added, “We’ve got to see each other more.” Jungwon blinked at you, his face reddening again. A shy chuckle bubbled up from his chest, and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah. I guess we do.”

You both stayed like that for a moment, the intimacy of the words hanging between you. But then you sat up, smoothing your dress back down and glancing around as if realizing they were still outside. “Here,” you said, leaning over to help him button his shirt back up, your fingers lingering briefly on his chest. “Can’t have you walking home looking like you just got lucky under a tree.” Jungwon laughed, a real, genuine laugh this time, as he fumbled with his belt, trying to make himself presentable. “Yeah, that might give people the wrong idea.”

You smirked, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. “Or the right idea,” you teased, your voice light but your touch gentle. You stood together, brushing off stray bits of grass and fixing their clothes. The night felt different now—charged, but in a quieter, more intimate way. “So,” Jungwon started, shoving his hands into his pockets. He felt like he should say something meaningful, something to sum up what just happened, but the words didn’t come. You tilted your head at him, your dark eyes sparkling. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I just… this was… good? I mean, really good. I don’t know what the vibe is now, but…” You chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Relax, Jungwon. I like your vibe. You like mine. We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He nodded, your words easing some of his uncertainty. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” As you both walked back through the park, side by side but not quite touching, Jungwon couldn’t help but replay the night in his head. He’d lost his virginity—and it had been… amazing? Better than he ever imagined. And with you of all people.

You glanced over at him, catching his thoughtful expression. “Hey,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Don’t overthink it, okay? We’re good. This was good. He smiled at you, a warmth spreading through his chest. “Yeah. It was.” And as you guys left the park together, the willow tree swaying in the breeze behind you, neither of you knew exactly where this would go. But for now, you both were comfortable, and that was enough.

Jungwon walked you home, your steps slow and easy. You guys didn’t talk much on the way, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was comfortable, like neither of them needed to fill the space with words. When you reached your place, you turned to him, your lips quirking up in a soft smile. “Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. “Yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks for… everything.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Get home safe, Jungwon.” With that, you disappeared through the door, leaving him standing there with a stupid grin on his face. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking back to the party, which was winding down as people stumbled out in various states of drunkenness.

Jay and Jake were waiting for him by Jake’s car, looking surprisingly sober. Jay raised an eyebrow when he saw Jungwon approaching. “There he is!” Jake called out, throwing his arms in the air. “We thought you got kidnapped or something.” “Yeah, man,” Jay added, crossing his arms. “You disappeared for hours. What the hell were you doing?”

Jungwon froze for a split second, his mind racing for an excuse. “Uh… I was just—” Jake squinted at him, stepping closer. “Wait a second…” He sniffed dramatically, then his eyes widened. “Holy crap, is that perfume?!” Jay’s gaze sharpened, his smirk growing wicked. “And is that—” He pointed at Jungwon’s neck. “Is that a hickey?”

Jungwon’s hand shot up to cover the mark, his face burning. “What? No, it’s not—” “Oh my God,” Jake said, throwing his head back in laughter. “This nerd actually got lucky!” Jay clapped a hand on Jungwon’s shoulder, grinning like a proud dad. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. Who was it? Did she kidnap you or something?” Jungwon rolled his eyes, swatting Jay’s hand away. “No one kidnapped me. I just… met someone, okay?”

“Met someone,” Jake repeated, waggling his eyebrows. “Dude, you came back a whole new man. You’ve got this glow. It’s freaky.” “Shut up,” Jungwon muttered, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Jay leaned against the car, still smirking. “All I’m saying is, you went into that party looking like you’d rather die, and now you’re walking around like you just discovered the meaning of life.”

Jake grinned, unlocking the car. “Whatever happened, we’re gonna need all the details later. Like, all of them.” “Absolutely not,” Jungwon said firmly, sliding into the backseat. As they drove home, Jay and Jake continued to tease him, their laughter filling the car. Jungwon leaned back in his seat, his mind drifting back to you and the night you shared. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: something had changed, and for once, he didn’t mind it at all.

leah’s note: girl this might be my fav work 💋

[xxmiserysmilesxx]

people wanted the fic so!

@myheadgoesaround and @venshichan this is for you

SQH drops the ring twice before he even tries to propose, and panics when it actually is time. SQQ got too annoyed and took it from him to do it herself.

“See, you hack? That’s how you fucking do it.” Shen Yuan sighed, shaking her head and standing up. Shang Qinghua kept staring, for some reason, mouth open. “At least get it right, if you’re going to fucking… propo….”

Suddenly, she froze, covering her mouth. "Fuck."

Shang Qinghua jumped forwards, holding his hands out. "What? What's wrong?!" 

"You just were trying to propose to me," Shen Yuan whispered. "And I  took the ring and yelled at you."

"Um... yeah?" Shang Qinghua nodded. Shen Yuan was shaking.

"Fuck- I'm sorry. I completely ruined this, I'm sorry." She sat back down, holding her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes. 

Shang Qinghua scrambled forwards, shaking his head. "No! No! You didn't ruin anything! You're so- I was being an idiot, you helped me."

"I was such a bitch about it, though!" Shen Yuan said, nearly a whine. 

"You always are- that's what I love about you!" Shang Qinghua babbled, waving his hands. "I love that you're so bitchy and confident and you have such strong opinions and always know things I don't and aren't afraid to tell me when I'm being stupid! But you're also sweet! And you're always hyping me up, even when you're being totally tsundere about it!"

"I'm not  a-" Shen Yuan started, and he cut her off. "You totally are, cucumber-babe. But, like, fuck, it's okay! Because- because I love you." He ran out of breath, panting, still kneeled in front of her.

"You're stupid," Shen Yuan shook her head at him in exasperation. Then grabbed him by the collar, and pressed her lips to his, hard.

"I'll fucking marry you."

Shang Qinghua made a squeaking noise, before finally moving to kiss her back. 

"Oh- yay!"

He could feel the tears on her cheeks, and though he didn't say a word (since she'd never admit it), he kissed them away as sweetly as he could.

Cucumber wife <3

I wrote a flash fic of the proposal if anyone is interested it’s extremely dumb. (Also yes he tried to quote LBH in his vows and Shen yuan nearly went off on him for it but then saw he was crying and also broke down from how happy she was)

[lovelyahoy]

Haikyuu: One-Shot. Word Count:4,184.

Warnings: lowk cringe ending i can't lie but idc😭, fluff, and Kuroo being everywhere. PS idk shit about animal crossing new horizons, blame google for anything i got wrong.

Summary: Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, [Y/N] and Kenma are the prime example of this, except the hate wasn't exactly...hate.

TL: @akiqvq💖

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

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[Y/N] hated Kenma.

Hated the way he always beat her in every game, smirking to himself when she'd groan loudly and kick an empty can away.

Hated his effortless factual rebuttals on anything gaming-related, leaving her stumbling over her words like a headless chicken.

Hated how she always made sure to berate whoever tried to mock him, if looks could kill—they'd be further down than the Titanic.

God and worst of all? She absolutely hated the way she couldn't look away when he'd blush from a simple brush of her finger on his hand, when his lips quirked up in a soft smile, and when his eyes would widen slightly, giving her a better view of the pretty cat-like pupils.

Hated. Fucking hated that she was whipped for him.

"How the fuck did you roll another six?!"

"Luck."

[Y/N] held the Nintendo tighter, talking herself out of throwing the damn thing against the wall. You'd think she'd have a better chance at winning on Mario Party, except no, because Kenma was a god when it came to video games.

Sneering as he got another star, bringing his total up to four stars while she had zero. Finishing up the rounds, [Y/N] turned off the device and avoided gazing at his victory scene.

Kenma smiled, seeing her childish pout from the corner of his eyes. He gently took her DS and turned it back on, opening super bomberman and inviting it to a lobby he made.

[Y/N] took it back, blinking up at him.

"Let's team up."

And that was the first time she had won.

"Kuroo, what does he say about me?"

The tall rooster head stopped whistling, twirling a volleyball on a finger, and side-eyeing her. They crossed paths near the park and now he was walking her home.

"Not much, think he talks more about that orange crow he met." [Y/N] fidgeted with the melon bread in her hand, taking a bite and grumbling incoherent sentences. "Why are you asking?"

That was a question she didn't have an answer for, wondering the same thing herself. She hated him, right? So why did he plague her mind like a pretty persistent parasite, consuming her every thought, messing with her sleep by making her think of what he could be doing at times. Was he playing that new god of war game he bought last week, or did he go back to replay monster hunter?

"The quicker you accept that you like him, the easier your days will be." He chuckled, feeling her fist weakly hit his shoulder, glaring up at Kuroo like he had just exposed her.

"I don't. I hate him."

"You hate him because of how he makes you feel." Kuroo didn't miss a beat, dropping his teasing smirk and settling his lips into a very tender smile. [Y/N] sighed, crumpling up the wrapper in her hand and throwing it into a nearby bin.

"The last time I liked a dude, he fucked my best friend. I had to move schools because whenever I'd see their disgusting faces in the hallways, I'd be plotting their deaths and my own." He knew she had past troubles with boys, but he never thought it had that much lore, he made a mental note to ask for more gossip information later.

Kuroo tossed the ball from hand to hand. He understood why she felt so hostile when dealing with her feelings, however, comparing Kenma to that guy was not even remotely the same thing.

"Have you seen him talk to any girls who aren't you?"

"No, but that's not saying much, considering Kenma is very reserved."

"Okay, well, how many people does he let use his gaming consoles?"

That made her stop. Kuroo followed suit, his teasing smirk came back, and the girl looked up at him with her lips parted, face blushing slightly.

"Just me..."

"Just you."

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Kenma wiped the sweat from his forehead. This practice match had been going on for far too long, and he needed out. Now. The gym was unbearably hot, and the third set was not helping.

His only saving grace was knowing [Y/N] had stepped out a few points ago, yelling out that she'd be right back. She always did the same during hot days, watch him play for as long as she could stand the heat then leave, going to the nearby store and getting them popsicles.

"Kenma, just two more." Yaku patted his shoulder reassuringly then got back into position. The whistle was blown, and everyone moved accordingly. Kenma's eyes sharpened, hands in the air waiting to touch the ball and guide it towards an awaiting Fukunaga.

The moment it came in contact he decided to simply tap it over the net, hearing the whistle confirm the point and he breathed out—doubling over in pain when Kuroo smacked his back with an obnoxious laugh.

"A setter dump, good timing."

"HURRY UP!" They all turned to look at an impatient [Y/N] holding a plastic bag with the cold goodies. Knowing they were about to receive a treat had their blood pumping, and they scored that last point like their lives depended on it.

"Thanks." After saying their goodbyes and changing into their regular school uniforms, Kenma took the popsicle she had handed to him. The rest of the boys walked further, leaving the pair to stray in the back in silence.

A very comforting silence to him, but [Y/N] weirdly longed to hear his voice. She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks heat up when he tilted his head to the side, observing her while biting into the cat-shaped treat.

"Can I come over today? My dad got me the Nintendo Switch and I...I really wanna play Animal Crossing with you..." She whispered the last two words, Kenma looked away from her pretty [E/C] eyes, and felt his own face turn red.

"You can come over whenever you'd like, [Y/N]."

Her name feel from his lips like sweet honey and she quite literally melted on the spot.

"Ah! It's getting on your hands—"

...

...

Kenma softly snored into the pillow he had clutched to his chest. Next to him lay a focused [Y/N], determined to get the last 5k bells they needed for the house upgrade. Tom Nook was a greedy little man, but she needed the extra space to decorate, and no way in hell could she sleep right now.

His body rolled onto his back, head lolling to the side and facing her. [Y/N] confirmed the selected items to sell and smirked in victory as she ran to Tom for the long-awaited upgrade. She sighed quietly, saving the game and setting the console on the bedside stand.

[E/C] eyes shifted to the side, observing Kenma's peaceful expression, she lifted a hand to brush the pads of her fingers on his cheek, softly dragging them down to pass her thumb over his lips. A strand of hair loosened from behind his ear, [Y/N] reached to tuck it back.

Half-lidded yellow eyes fluttered open, and Kenma didn't move an inch, just observed her. Her warm hand rested on his cheek, cupping and caressing.

"[Y/N]?" Whispered groggy words, [Y/N] smiled and scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder, looking up at him, she could feel her heart race. "You're lucky it's the weekend."

"You only fell asleep early because of the volleyball match." His gaze trailed from her eyes to her lips, to Kenma, [Y/N] was a dream. A dream he didn't think could ever be real, a dream he didn't have a chance with.

It hurt him to like someone like her, funny, kind, and beautiful. They had become friends when Kuroo lost to her in a sandbox fight, and Kenma stepped in to help his friend get sand out of his nose. He remembered that day so clearly, especially her very humored giggles.

For this night, he'd risk it a bit, mind still half asleep. Kenma adjusted her head to be on his chest instead, arm wrapping around her shoulder, and chin resting on her hair. When [Y/N] hugged him in response, Kenma hoped she wouldn't worry about how shaky his breaths had gotten.

"Will you stay today too?"

"I'd love to."

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Kenma loved [Y/N].

Loved the way she'd never shy away from anyone, speaking her mind and keeping everything in control.

Loved when she smiled brightly during his volleyball games, screaming the loudest and buying him victory treats.

Loved her pouty lips, red cheeks, and especially her [E/C] eyes. They were clear windows to him, knowing how she was feeling in that moment with a simple look-over.

The best part of it had to be those late nights when they'd play together, shoulders touching, munching on junk food and energy drinks, whispering to avoid waking up his parents. When she'd muffle her laughs into his sweater, clinging onto him like he was her lifeline.

Loved. Absolutely loved everything about her.

"Where's [Y/N]?"

Kenma scanned the sitting crowd, and he saw her friends, but no sign of the girl. The whistle rang out, and he was forced to tear his gaze from the people, settling into his position on the court.

She promised she'd never miss a game, no matter what, and he believed her. Recalling the day she had gone down with a severe flu, wearing three sweaters and two facemasks, cheering for him while coughing.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to bring along a stray." Coach Nekomata rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the grin on his face, Kenma's frown slowly quirked up into a cute smile—[Y/N] waving from behind the old man enthusiastically.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Smiles. Blushing faces. Something he loved and she hated.

"Alright, alright, stop drowning in each other's eyes. Sit down and you get into the setter spot." Kuroo playfully patted their backs and dragged Kenma to start the game.

[Y/N] took her place on the bench, fidgeting with her fingers above her shorts, a little nervous to watch the game this closely. She wasn't allowed to enter the gymnasium, having lost her entry ticket and clinging to the poor coach trying to get a drink nearby.

The world around her went mute, not even the annoying squeaking of their sneakers could penetrate her concentration this time. Everything but Kenma blurred out, his slightly long, cute, pudding-colored hair, his focused yellow cat eyes, lips set into a thin line, and cheeks red with adrenaline.

He was perfect in her eyes.

[Y/N] didn't hate Kenma, she hated what she couldn't have.

"Careful where you spike!" A meek boy on the opposing team shrieked and quickly bowed to Kenma, as he had almost hit the ball into his face.

"Don't mind her, she goes a little cuckoo when it comes to him." Kuuro offered a gigantic smirk, sending not-so-subtle glances towards the duo, who blushed in unison.

The game continued on smoothly, both teams giving their all and keeping a balanced score. First set was given to the opponents, in the middle of their second, a time out was called.

"Their middle blocker is good, but gets sloppy when you all charge in. Keep an eye out and track him, bounce the damn ball as many times as you can." Coach Nekomata received a loud 'hai' from the group, proudly smiling at how they all contributed more ideas to increase their points.

Kenma separated from the group, needing a breather. Walking up to [Y/N], who held out his water bottle, he thanked her and took a much-needed sip while sitting down. She gently took a folded towel to wipe away the sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, knowing Kenma hated sweating above all else.

Could she really live on like this? Acting as if this weird situationship wasn't happening? She wanted something more, something clear. [Y/N] finished and placed the towel to her side, she turned back to look at him already with his eyes on her.

"Think we can win?"

"Of course." She cackled. "Can't lose when I'm over here cheering for you."

Kenma laughed quietly. She hadn't seen him lose yet, and he was not going to let today be that day. He stood up when the referee mentioned the fifteen minutes were up, as he bent down to leave his bottle, [Y/N] snatched up the collar of his jersey, bringing him down further, in turn making him need to place a hand on the side of her thigh to balance himself.

"If the winning point is a setter dump, you can make me do one thing. If it's not, then I'll make you do something. Deal?" Her [E/C] eyes were filled with a mischievous sparkle, wanting to spice the game up. Kenma blinked from the close proximity, the words got caught in his throat, but he made sure to nod, already knowing what he'd like to ask of her.

"He looks locked in." Lev stood tall with his hands on his hips, observing the way Kenma's face was blank, no trace of the usual complaints, only utter silence. Kuroo had noticed their little interaction and swore by everything he loved that they had kissed.

Kenma set the ball like a precise hawk, earning his team the second set without a hitch. Coach Nekomata had never seen him so focused, he needed to know what had been said.

"[L/N], what'd you say to him?"

"Uh, nothing in particular..."

"I'd like to know, maybe with those words I can make him take matches this seriously every time."

[Y/N] held in her laugh, turning to look at the older man with a smile.

"I don't think it'll work if you say it."

"Ah, young love. I understand."

He looked away and monitored his players, purposely ignoring the shocked girl next to him. Great, now even this dude was teasing her.

...

...

"The poor thing didn't even see it coming." [Y/N] skipped over the cracked lines on the cement, chuckling when she remembered the shocked faces of everyone, including his teammates.

"Yaku almost tackled me, he was very amused with it."

The sky had gotten dark, leaving them to walk under the lamp posts and hurry on home, aka his home, because she lived further away and he didn't want her walking alone at this hour.

"So, you won. What are you gonna make me do?"

Kenma stuffed his face into his sweater's collar, hiding the bottom half from her. His eyes darted to the side and avoided meeting her curious expression.

He wanted a kiss. When he was dragged down to her level, her words almost didn't reach him, wanting to lean closer and connect their lips. Kenma wanted to ask for it, but now all his confidence had dissipated like the petals of a withered flower.

What if she thought he was some sort of pervert after this? Would it ruin what they had built together?

"Kenma, don't overthink it."

They stopped walking, standing underneath a light. [Y/N] was expecting him to ask for a game or make her play that scary one she refused to even touch.

He breathed in, feeling goosebumps take over his covered arms. Countless times, she had mentioned hating past relationships, and anyone who confessed to her was shot down quicker than a bullet. Why'd he go and fall for her despite knowing this?

"[Y/N], you can say no."

"Tell me then."

Now she was beginning to feel nervous, giving her the option to decline was starting to look like a red flag. But this was Kenma, her sweet little pudding angel, there was no way he'd ask for anything she considered bad.

"A...k..."

"What?"

"Uhm, a k..."

[E/C] eyes blinked rapidly, straining her ears to try and decipher his low mumbling. She took a step forward and squinted when he looked away shyly, k? k what. Kenma suddenly began walking again, [Y/N] matched his pace with confusion building up inside of her.

"Never mind, you don't have to do anything."

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"K-word that causes embarrassment? Why would I know?"

"Well, I can't exactly ask him, now, can I?" Kuroo threw a pencil at her face, scowling playfully at her blatant sarcasm. [Y/N] told him about the silly deal, needing feedback on this matter before going straight to the source.

"Just because he's my best friend doesn't mean I can read his mind."

"No duh—okay, sorry, find out for me please? I'll set you up on that date you wanted with Claire." Kuroo's eye twitched at the stupid puppy look she was making. He hated it so much because it worked, plus the reward was something he wanted.

"Fine, get out of my face and classroom."

"Awww, you're the best." This time, the pencil hit the back of her head as she ran away.

He sighed. Of course he knew what Kenma wanted to ask. The boy had mentioned it multiple times at every damn sleepover or hanging out time they had. How these two were so oblivious to each other was a greater mystery than the Bermuda Triangle.

Kuroo and Kenma were practicing alone in the gymnasium, [Y/N] was needed at home, so the others were sent for drinks. The tall boy ruffled his black hair, wondering how he should bring the topic up, stressing out slightly until he realized this was Kenma.

"You chickened out."

"Huh?" The volleyball Kenma had thrown in the air landed at his side, startled by his friend's sudden words.

"If you ask her to kiss you, she'd do it in a heartbeat...actually a bit longer cause she's as dumb as you when it comes to this." Kenma pouted when Kuroo laughed, walking closer to him.

"[Y/N] says she hates you, and she does, but not you in specific. Hates you because she has feelings for you, someone she doesn't think would ever like her back." He yawned into his palm. "See why you're both dumb?"

"I can't ask her...and I can't do it either."

"So you're going to let the girl who likes you back be a missed opportunity?"

"I can't do it Kuroo..."

Well, he didn't need to. His best friend had a plan set in motion, going straight to [Y/N], standing in front of her locker the very next morning. Holding her there until all the students left the area, once the coast was clear he grasped both her shoulders.

His 'plan' wasn't much of a plan per se, but it'd work nonetheless...he hoped it would at least.

"[Y/N] kiss Kenma. Next time you're alone with him, grab his school tie and pull him in for one."

She frantically blinked at his hushed words, feeling heat rise to the tips of her ears. K, k as in kiss? Kenma wanted a kiss? From her?

"Is that what he wanted?"

Kuroo nodded with a serious expression. He needed this interaction over so he could plan his date with Claire instead of playing cupid for these two airheads.

"...I'll tell Claire to text you..."

"Pleasure doing business with you." With that, he finally let go of her and ran away into the halls. Now it was her turn to think things over, Kuroo would never lie about something like this, and that scared her a bit.

Oh wow. Okay. A kiss, pretty straightforward and easy. She lost the deal, and that was okay. Okay. Okay. Oh my god. She looked redder than the color red itself, fanning her face at the mere thought of kissing Kenma.

"You okay?" Claire jumped back when [Y/N] freaked out. "Damn! Okay calm down."

"Okay? It's not okay, Claire help."

"Okay....?"

"Stop saying okay, okay?!"

"...alright?"

"I need to kiss Kenma." [Y/N] rushed her words, "Well, not need, want. Both actually, need and want."

"Then just...do it?"

Claire was severely confused. She thought they were dating already, there is no way you look at someone the way they look at each other without being together.

[Y/N] activated her puppy look once more, adding a pout this time, Claire's specific weakness.

"Ok—alright. We'll talk about it during lunch."

...

...

[Y/N] spent the entire school day mulling over the pros and cons of the kiss, the kiss itself? check. The embarrassment after? cross. She kept going back and forth, annoying both Kuroo and Claire, mostly Claire, who found out she was trapped in a date she did not want. She did.

"Are you two sure he likes me?"

"Noooo, we want you to make out with a dude who doesn't like you—shut up and do it!" Kuroo pushed her out of the school gardens, guiding her towards the gate where Kenma was waiting for her—they'd be playing more Animal Crossing today.

He lowered his head, whispering. "All jokes aside [Y/N], if you don't make the first move, you two will be stuck in a state of limbo. I promise it'll be fine."

Kuroo ruffled her [H/C] hair and once again pushed her forward. She gulped and walked up to Kenma. He noticed her from the corner of his eye, so he saved the game and put his console away.

"Let's stop by the store first." [Y/N] nodded, and they began their walk in silence. The streets were a little crowded, leaving them to bump shoulders every now and then, hands brushing by one another.

If she planned on kissing him, holding hands wouldn't be that big of a deal, right? Kenma felt his nerves rise, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the amount of people near him, almost suffocating.

Before his 'flight or fight' activated, the soft, warm feeling of her hand holding his dulled all other senses. Kenma turned his head to see her looking directly at the ground, gnawing at her bottom lip. He didn't dare say anything, worried he'd make her let go.

Kenma didn't let go, not even to try and hold more snacks, paying at the counter, and holding the heavy bag. He couldn't, and he wouldn't. This continued all the way to his house, [Y/N] unzipping his backpack to get the key out and unlocking the door, walking up the stairs, and into his bedroom.

"..."

Yellow met [E/C], both glancing down at their joined hands and then up to each other again. Hesitantly, she let go, shrugging off her bag and lying on the floor. Kenma did the same, settling himself right next to her. The bag of snacks was set in front of them, Nintendo Switches turned on, and they loaded up their save.

"It kinda sucks that you can't build on my island, that'd be fun."

Kenma made an 'mhm' sound, collecting anything he could and fishing nearby. He watched her character zoom past him multiple times, decorating the outside of her house.

An hour into the game, [Y/N] got the trade offer from Kenma, said boy didn't mention anything, not even looking at her. She clicked accept, and in her inventory was a desk, the yellow cute DIY table she had been trying to get.

Her [E/C]'s were wide. Giggling, she ran into the house to place the pretty little thing in her bedroom.

"If only we could get married in this game."

That made him flustered, and he continued his fishing. His hands were a bit shaky, and he found it so silly he was this affected by the thought of marrying her in a game.

"Stardew Valley lets you marry villagers...and other players..." He awkwardly coughed when she turned to look at him. This time, he didn't shy away, meeting her gaze. Subconsciously darting his yellow eyes to her lips, like always.

[Y/N] didn't miss the change of attention, not this time. She never hated Kenma. Who was she trying to fool?

"Kenma, close your eyes." His attention snapped up to see her serious face. Did his staring make her feel uncomfortable? He complied with her ask, eyelashes brushing by the top of his cheeks, and he stayed silent, anxious for what came next.

A million possibilities ran through his head, but nothing could've prepared him for the mellow kiss she had initiated. Pleasant, soft, warm, and more words came to mind, but the best one for this situation was perfect.

[Y/N] pulled back, watching him flutter his eyes open and gaping slightly at her. She smiled nervously, scanning his face for any sense of rejection.

"I'd like to be your girlfriend and marry you in Stardew."

Kenma felt like his chest was relieved of all the worry that had built up, feeling fresh air fill his lungs, and a wonderful bliss taking over. He leaned back in, giving [Y/N] a quick, shy, chaste kiss.

"I'd like you to be my girlfriend too...and my Stardew wife..."

Animal Crossing was quickly forgotten, both of them buying and downloading Stardew Valley the next day. (They clocked in 80 hrs in a mere week.)

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"How do you die that much in a farm game?" Kuroo had googled the game on his phone. If Kenma never died in those dragon RPGs he loved, how was this farm more difficult?

"[Y/N] kept making our characters kiss, I couldn't attack the bats coming for us."

"Hey! We're rich enough for the medical bills already." She grinned, scrolling through screenshots she had taken of them in the game, passing by an occasional selfie.

"No more kissing in the mines, I lost the sunflower decoration I was going to give you."

"We'll get a new one. By the way, let's have a baby today."

"Have to visit Robin so she can put back the crib you exploded."

Kuroo packed up his lunch and left them alone on the rooftop, tired of the weird conversation.

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