#putting a little more focus on my faces for these

[holeforzenin]

Toji just grins when your voice wavers, his head falls back with a deep, mocking laugh that rumbles through his broad chest. He’s got your thighs folded back, hips pressed flushed against your ass, and his cock buries itself so deep you swear he’s kissing your cervix with that fat, leaking tip of his dick.

“What’s the matter, huh?” His big hands keep your legs pinned in place in his strong grip as his thumb brushes over the supple flesh of your thighs. “You were real mouthy earlier—talking back n’ giving yer old man all that attitude. Now look at ya. Can’t even get a word out, huh?”

You try to speak, try to tell him off, but it just comes out a pathetic whine, broken and high-pitched, and he scoffs with a low laugh while grinning down at you like you’re something pathetic.

“Aww, what’s that baby, Can’t think straight when your sloppy cunt’s stuffed full of cock?” He chuckles as his hips grinds down into your cunt—it’s slow but the sudden moving sensation forces your eyes to roll back in a drunken way, the stretch burning as your greedy hole embarrassingly clamps down around him like you’re trying to keep his cock there forever. “Bet it’s so hard to focus, huh? Poor baby’s too dumb to remember why you were throwing a fit”.

You bite your lip, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, and Toji’s calloused thumb drags down to press against your clit. The sudden pressure has you gasping, back arching into his touch—greedy for more, and he just clicks his tongue while shaking his head.

“Yeahhh, see that’s what I thought. Can’t even remember, can ya? Dumb little thing, always bitching and moaning about something”. His thumb purposefully flickers over your puffy clit with every forceful thrust, each snap of his hips making you cry out and claw at his big forearms in an unforgiving way—as if it’s your get back but unfortunately, you knew Toji wouldn’t be affected by your sad little nail scratches anyways. “But when it comes down to it—” He leans in, teeth scraping over your jaw before biting down just enough to make you yelp. “—you just want Daddy to fuck you stupid”.

You choke on a moan, toes curling against his large back as he presses into you deeper, folding your legs back even tighter, practically bending you in half and crushing you with his heavy weight. Toji watches your face, all red and teary-eyed, lips bitten raw, and it makes his grin go feral.

“Look at ya. So fucking pathetic”. He looms over, lips brushing your ear, his voice a dark, rumbling growl. “Didn’t I tell ya not to pick fights you can’t win, baby? Now you’re just gonna take it like the little slut you are”.

Your pussy clenches hard around him from that, and he laughs again—a low wicked sound, shaking his head like he almost feels bad for you. Almost.

“Yeah, that’s right. Making a mess all over my cock ‘cause you love being put in your place”. His thrusts grow rougher, each one hammering his thick cock deep enough that you see stars. “Fuckin’ brat—gonna make sure you remember who’s in charge. Next time you’ll definitely think twice before running your mouth with me”.

[popcornpoppypop]

Easy

Request: Could you do a fic with Jack Abbot and a female reader where she is a nurse and feels like she’s not good enough or is panicking at work even though she’s awesome at her job? Like she’s always too hard on herself.

A/N: I too get panic attacks sometimes and boy would it be nice to have Abbot there to talk me down! Anyway, hope this is okay! Let me know what ya'll think!

Warnings: Talks of death, description of panic attack, medical inaccuracies probably.

You loved being a nurse. You were always taking care of everyone so it made sense to go into nursing. You started out in family medicine, taking care of wellness exams and ear infections. The monotony made it feel like you were wasting away You respected your fellow nurses that thrived there, but something was missing. When you decided to try emergency medicine, you were fascinated. Watching the nurses run around, knowing exactly what to do, you wanted to do that.

You were careful. Too careful. Your superiors warned you that this was a field where you can’t be afraid of mistakes, you have to be able to trust your instincts. You were over prepared to the point that you wasted material and time.

You felt like you were drowning and even on good days, you felt like you were failing. No one could pull you out of the self-hatred spiral. You just hoped to keep the bad days at bay.

But everyone has bad days.

She was just 19 years old, coming in for a sore throat. You had assessed her and deemed her stable. You never entertained the thought that it was the beginning of toxic shock syndrome. Who would?

You were covered in her blood, she had coughed it up as you hooked her up to monitoring equipment. You called for anyone to help as she flatlined. You wouldn’t let anyone else do CPR. You missed this, you’d fix this.

But you didn’t.

“It’s an easy one to miss. You didn’t do this.” Dr. Abbot put a hand on your shoulder as he left the room.

You never had a groove, but what little bit you were starting to get was forgotten. That day shook you to your core. You were even more cautious. You would do everything to make sure that never happened again.

“Y/N, you can’t keep taking this long with patients! You are wasting resources. Why the hell did you do an EKG on Mr. Summers without an order?” Dana sighed as she took her glasses off. She had been on your ass for weeks, trying to get you to figure your shit out.

“He said that his arm was bothering him, I just wanted to be safe!” You argued.

“His arm bothers him because he has arthritis.” She shook her head, giving you a sympathetic look.

“I’ll do better, I’m sorry.” You shuffled off. Your chest tightened, the world felt too close. Why couldn’t you be like everyone else in the department? They all knew exactly what to do all the time? What was wrong with you?

You ran to the stairwell, thinking you had been able to slip away unnoticed.

You tried to breathe but your mind racing caused your chest to heave and wheeze with effort. You felt yourself spiraling and couldn’t stop it. The tears streamed down your face, your hands shook. You were on the verge of passing out, your vison blurring and the edges going dark.

“Easy! Calm down, Y/N. You’re okay.” You could hear the familiar voice, but couldn’t focus on it.

“I can’t….I can’t…” You wheezed. A rough hand grabbed yours and you looked up to see Dr. Abbot. He put your hand to his chest.

“Follow my breaths. In and out. Nice and easy.” He said, keeping hard eye contact. You did your best to follow the rhythm of his chest.

“Good. You’re doing good.” He said as he pulled a stray stool over and sat you down.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” You mumbled, your hands still shaking.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We all have our moments. I don’t believe that you don’t know what triggered this. You want to start being honest here?” He crossed his arms.

“I…I don’t think I’m good enough to be here.” Your voice small and frail. You heard Dr. Abbot snort a small laugh. You looked up at him confused.

“You think you aren’t good enough. That’s a crock of shit if I ever heard it.” He said, his face never changing. You never could figure out when he was joking with you.

“Everyone tells me how slow I am, I waste time and resources. Dana is always on my ass. I lost that patient and I should have known something was going on! I failed, I constantly fail!” The sobs wracked your body.

“Hey! Easy! You aren’t a failure.” He grabbed your hands. “Y/N, that girl was stable when you admitted her. I saw the records. You did everything right. It’s part of this job, no matter how right we are, people will die. You didn’t fail her. You fought for her when she needed you to.” He said tipping your chin up to look at him.

“Dana is on your ass because she knows you’re the best we got. She wants you to reach your full potential. Hell, last week you caught that silent heart attack, no one else would have done that EKG. They all breeze through patients and you take your time. Nothing wrong with either way of working. But you see things others don’t.” He almost smiled.

“I’m so scared all the time.”

“Everyone is. You learn to deal with it. Don’t let that be the thing that takes you out of here. You’re good, you should be here.” He said, his thumb rubbing circles on your hand.

“I didn’t think anyone saw me.” You said to yourself, you knew he heard.

“Believe me, we see you. I see you.” He said, his eyes kinder than you had ever seen them. Your cheeks flushed.

“You have patients, you shouldn’t be here with me.” You cleared your throat.

“No one is dying and if they are, they’ll find me. You needed me.” He nodded. “It’s okay to break sometimes.” He shrugs.

“I feel weak when I do.” You stand up and tighten your arms around yourself.

“It feels like that, but it’s just part of the strengthening process. Each break down makes you a better nurse. Means you care. The only time you get to leave is when you stop caring.” Dr. Abbott put a hand on your arm. “If you leave before that, I’ll personally kick your ass.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You smiled, wiping your face.

“Anytime. Get back out there. Find me if you need me.” He nodded as he watched you head back into the pitt. He wandered back in and went to his computer.

“You going soft on me, Jack?” Dana looked at him over her glasses.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He said without looking up.

“You got a soft spot for that girl.” She smirked.

“She’s good. She’s got something we need and I’m not letting her fail.” He shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing. I feel the same. But mind you don’t get too close. HR will have a field day.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m a professional, Dana.”

“Yeah, you also a man and that lends itself to mischief. Don’t break my nurses hearts, I have to deal with it.” She laughed.

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt her.” He cleared his throat, looking up to watch you rush around the ER.

“You’re screwed.” Dana chuckled as she typed at her computer. “That girl is going to flip your world upside down, Abbot.”

“I can only hope.” He whispered to himself.

[writingsforfandoms-multi]

post night shift | michael robinavitch x nurse! reader

summary: robby comforts his gf after her first and last night shift

warnings: mention of patient deaths

a.n: this is the first thing i’ve written in over 4 years thank you dr robby for the inspiration

“She lost three patients today” abbot gives robby the heads up over the phone after he walks you out of the hospital.

Robby’s heart drops, he knows you take losing a patient very hard, he can’t imagine how you’ll be after losing three. He wasn’t expecting you to walk into your shared apartment pissed.

“What the fuck is night shift?!” you exclaimed as you walked in the door and took off your shoes by the entryway, setting your bag on the hook. Michael came to meet you near the entryway, “I knew I wasn’t made for night shift and this just confirmed it,” you rambled. “The staff was great and I love working with abbot but my god I’m never covering one of those shifts again, that was horr-horrible” your voice shakes as tears well up in your eyes and then the next thing you know you’re crying in robby’s arms.

You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were doing a favor for the night shift charge nurse when she called to see if you were willing to come in since they were so short staffed. You remembered abbot mentioning how much smoother night shift would run with more nurses since they were usually always short staffed anyway, so you figured you would help out by coming in.

You loved being a nurse, you truly did, but it was shifts like these that made it so hard. Yes, you helped many patients today, but it was hard not to focus on the ones who died.

Robby doesn't ask you any questions, he knows you’ll talk to him when you're ready, and he also knows that right now you just need to cry it all out, allow the grief to leave your body. It still breaks his heart listening to your sobs, but all he can do is rub your back to try to comfort you.

“I lost three patients today” you hiccuped out through your crying as you lifted your head to look up at robby.

He takes your face in his palms as his eyes soften, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s hard”

“One was just a kid, 8 years old” you cry a little harder and his thumbs lightly brush your cheeks. He brings your head back against his chest, and after a few moments your cries quiet down, and you finally look back up at him, “today was so fucking hard michael” you whisper

“I know baby, I know” he says as he leads you to the couch and you immediately crawl into his lap and take your place against him.

You paused for a moment, “did abbot call you?” you asked

He nods, “yeah, he was worried about you”

“I need to apologize to him,” you sighed, “I may or may not have snapped at him after losing my second patient” you grimaced, remembering how harsh you were with him

“You know he didn't take it personally” he says, softly rubbing your back and you just nod in response.

After a few moments of just enjoying his company you say, “I’m gonna head to bed, I need to get my sleep schedule back on track to flip back to days for the next shift” you kiss his cheek, feeling like the heavy weight of grief on your chest lessened when you cried it out. This was a rule you and robby made for yourselves when you first started dating: you would cry out all the emotions you needed to, take as much time as you needed to go through the motions of the day, and then let it go.

“Then let’s go to bed” he says, and you look at him confused, didn’t he just wake up? “I took a very short nap after my shift and woke up around 3 so I could wait up and take a nap with you when you got back” he explains, a bit sheepishly even

You let out a small smile, “you’re so cute” and give him a kiss, “how did I get so lucky?” you lean back in his lap to look at him. He can feel a soft blush taking over his face when he notices how you’re looking at him, all these months together and you still make him blush.

“I’m the lucky one, sweetheart, I can’t believe you still put up with me” he says softly, thinking of how you put up with him and all the emotional baggage he was dealing with in the beginning of your relationship, and how incredibly thankful he was that you stayed.

“Always” you said

[throwmethroughawindow]

Dizzy thinking about straddling Bucky’s lap…

the contrast of his hands making it hard to focus, the cool smooth palm of the vibranium and the warm calloused palm of flesh working in tandem to make you a panting mess as you press your lips against his neck as he holds your plush hips still

“baby, please”

you sounded desperate but you couldn’t help it, it had been so long since you had been able to touch Bucky - this wasn’t enough. you needed more, you needed to be under his clothes; skin on skin with him.

“Mmm fuck,” Bucky let out a hiss as you nipped at his neck, sucking at the tender spot you sooth it with your warm tongue. “Sugar, you need to s- oh god”

you had ground your panty-clad mound against his bulge trying to keep him from making you get off his lap, to put distance between you guys.

you need him, you need your Bucky.

you were too busy panting licking and whimpering against his neck to notice that his vibranium hand left your hip and had wound itself into your hair; the harsh tug making you gasp as your head pulled away from your lover - his blue eyes were dark as he took in your desperate form,

you pursue your lips at him, whimpering for him to kiss your swollen lips again as he smirks at you; Bucky was absolutely smitten with you. you had been so adamant on staying friends- that you guys were best friends and nothing more! you had a crush on Thor Odinson (for Christs sakes, that man was an oaf) and Bucky was just your friend.

friend his ass

friends don’t get jealous when they see the other out on dates, friends don’t hold hands and climb into bed with the other because they had a nightmare (to be fair, Bucky and you had BOTH done this to each other so the fingers were both pointed), friends sure as hell don’t volunteer to give you a massage (with a happy ending) and swallow all of your cum with a smile on their face, and friends certainly don’t sit on the other friends lap and grind their soaked silk panties on their best friends bulge.

“Sugar, is there a reason” Bucky lets out a quiet hiss as you hump against his thick bulge again, pulling your hair a little tighter as your let out a sultry moan “why you won’t get off my lap?”

“Mhm, mhm” You nod your head as best as you can as you reach down and flip your skirt up, Bucky’s eyes zeroing in on the cute little emerald green silk panties that cupped your mound perfectly - his mouth salivating as he imagined nosing against the wet patch and lapping at it until you came in them just from him sucking on your clit through your panties. “I want your cock filling up my tight pussy Buck, wanna cum on your cock finally.”

[revelboo]

Here's my lazy girl. Could I pretty please get some more Kup crumbs? Love that old man. 🫣

Aww! Cute!

Don’t You Pt 6

Kup x Reader

• “Breathe, kid,” Kup growls under his breath, a hand reaching up to cup you against his neck where you’re perched on him. But you can’t tear your eyes from the giant, not-birds roosting in the trees. Heads tipping as your little group passes underneath and those glossy, insectile eyes focus on you.

• Feels you shudder and press yourself tighter against him, the way your heart is racing putting him on alert. He’s seen those things before, but they’re no threat. At least, not to bots. You, though? He’s aware that if he lets you down, one of those things would dive and have you before he could stop it. Swallow you alive the way he’s seen them do little animals. You’re too fragging tiny. “I hate this planet,” you mutter against him as one of the ugly things shuffles along a branch, making a clacking noise as it stares at you.

• “Frag off,” he snarls, drawing his weapon and firing a warning shot that sends the birds flapping and hopping away. But they don’t leave, staring at you with hungry, beady eyes. Shivering, you press your face into Kup’s neck. Hearing the bot rumbling softly as one of the younger bots laughs. ‘Maybe we should use the human for bait,’ someone jokes and your skin crawls as Kup glares at the offender.

• “Looks like we have a volunteer,” Kup calls out, holstering his weapon and pointing his cygar at the youngster who’d suggested you be bait for their target practice. “We’re here to help with Cybertron’s image. Our war ain’t made us many friends,” he adds. Which is why they’re out here dealing with a nasty, invasive species that was intentionally released here. And that happens to enjoy eating the native organics who aren’t equipped to deal with the things. “Now march your aft over there and see if you can’t scare us up some crawlers.”

• Crawlers? Watching the young bot shoot you a look like it’s your fault he got singled out, the others begin drawing their weapons as he jogs off into the trees. And Kup keeps his hand against you as he chews on his cygar and surveys the others. Not bothering with his weapon, yet. From the direction the bot had gone, there’s a screaming roar that lifts the fine hair at your nape. Staring as something somewhat like a giant millipede with an elongated snout full of teeth whips out of the trees, the thing big even compared to the bots as it screams and slings its bulk at the nearest bot, coiling about him as the others open fire. Dimly aware of Kup swearing when you start screaming as another one launches itself in a tangle of slavering jaws and long limbs at Springer. Because you really hate this freaking planet.

Previous

[vamplvs]

warnings: bob reynolds x vampire!dom!reader; mirror sex; bondage, blowjobs, super strength (we're ignoring canon a little for this okay?)

notes: i'm on my vampire bullshit oops. as always, comments/rbs are much appreciated!! and my asks are open <3 and yes i reposted this there were some things i wanted to fix <//3

thinking so hard about mirror sex with bob. except the catch is that he can't see you. vampires can't be seen in mirrors, after all.

⛤ bob's not shy, necessarily, but something about mirror sex is just so revealing. and it makes his face hotter than he’d like.

⛤ he agrees to it when you bring it up because you sounded so excited about it, and, really, how bad could it be? so you have him sit down in front of a floor length mirror, and once you step in front of him, he realizes exactly why you were so excited about this.

⛤ he can't see you in the reflection. it's just him and why is that making him get even more bothered?

⛤ when you pull out the bondage rope? yeah, he's done for. watching the rope wind around him with nothing moving it is doing something for him and he's really just wondering if he should be more concerned about how into it he is.

⛤ not that you give him much time to think about that, though, because soon enough his breath is coming hard and fast and he's flushed down to his chest.

⛤ meanwhile you haven't done much more than tie him down onto the chair

⛤ and when you kneel in front of him, he nearly loses his mind. his eyes are completely stuck on the reflection and the fact that he can't see you in the slightest. he keeps searching the mirror for any evidence that you're in front of it, some kind og glimmer that proves you're there, but all he can see is the twitching of his thighs every time you kiss them

⛤ any thought process he had going into this goes out the window when you press a feather light kiss to the underside of his cock, and he flat out whines, which, of course, only spurs you on more

⛤ you've got him struggling to get out of his binds after just a few minutes of teasing. "please, please, i need- oh, fuck, i need it so bad-"

⛤ and who are you to deny him? when you finally, finally, put your mouth on him properly, he lets out a broken sob and his legs shake, but all he can focus on is his reflection

⛤ through the haze there’s a fascination with the scene unfolding in front of him. there’s a complete disconnect between what he’s seeing and what he’s feeling

⛤ he sees every minute twitch of his body in response to you and it’s so, so much.

⛤ it’s absolutely filthy. his spit-slick cock is completely visible, and it only makes his face grow hotter

⛤ it's only once he finally looks down at you that something in him snaps. he takes in the the look in your eyes, how they're shining with satisfaction, control, and he lets out a breathless moan

⛤ "can i- fuck, please, can i touch you?" he can already feel the rope on his hands fraying as he tenses up, and once you give him a moan as confirmation, it's all over

⛤ in an instant, bob's hands are on your head, fingers threading through your hair. he never pushes, not once. his hands on you just there to ground himself. "y-yeah, please, just-," it's breathy and broken between gasps. "just like that."

[usagi-chwan]

Jealousy is a bad habit (BSDxReader)

🌸 Characters in this chapter: Dazai (Agency), Ranpo, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Atsushi, Yosano, Oda, Tecchou and Lucy.

🌸 Spoiler-wise, knowing who the characters are is enough to be able to read their respective parts.

Hey, hey! Hope you are doing well 😊 Today, I wanted to focus on a feeling we are all more or less familiar with: jealousy. So, what do BSD characters do when their boyfriend/girlfriend (somehow) finds himself/herself having to talk with someone who seems interested in him/her?

Basically, how do our favorite characters express (or not) their jealousy! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and wish you an excellent reading moment ~

(The parts are more or less the same size, except that Atsushi's is much longer... I was more inspired for him, that is all I have to say in my defense 🥲)

Dazai

- A rather jealous young man when it comes to love, let's face it. And you do not want to make him your enemy, far from it; he is capable of using some of the vilest stratagems in order to make that amateur flirter (a client of the Agency no less) regret having dared to be interested in you.

- And so, since this unfortunate mishap, Dazai now accompanies you on every assignment and attends client interviews with you, among other things... Which, of course, he never did before.

- He is the ultimate clingy person, even going so far as to hang on to you, preferably in front of the troublemaker, so that the latter realizes that they would better go on their way and find another agency to solve their problem.

- Then again, they are lucky Dazai is not still part of the Mafia, or else : snap.

~

Ranpo

- He, too, has a little trouble containing his jealousy, so he has learned to react accordingly, with new techniques emerging as time goes by, as peacefully as possible with a Ranpo by your side.

- He id a child par excellence, especially if you take into account his latest technique for letting the world know that he is not happy (and especially you). He does not hesitate for a second to roll around on the floor, grumbling and saying things like “be interested in me!”... But it does not work this time: outdated technique, in other words.

- He then starts sulking in his corner when he realizes that he is going to have to come up with new methods, and that you are not responding by letting him have his way.

- All because of one stupid customer.

~

Akutagawa

- He is one of those who have a few problems with violence, but I think it is more than common knowledge now.

- Someone tries to attack him? The person in question is called to order immediately, and in style if you please. Which is to say, if he or she was going to get anywhere, the assailant is going to have a tough time of it.

- Is someone bothering his boyfriend/girlfriend? Faced with this situation, more irritating than any other for our dear Akutagawa, nothing could be simpler: simply get rid of the annoying elements.

- Definitely.

~

Chuuya

- He tends to be a little jealous at times, but he would rather die than admit it.

- When he sees you with this stranger, his first instinct is to be annoyed, and quite irritated, too. It is obvious that he wants to go and do some kicking.

- He is torn between two contradictory feelings: on the one hand, the urge to go see this person and to stop them from hitting on you; and, on the other, his reason telling him not to.

- Chuuya then tries to think calmly, and comes to a conclusion: this person may not know that you are already in a relationship, after all...

- Chuuya does not doubt you for a moment; he knows that, for you, this conversation is completely banal, even if the other person seems interested. And, above all, Chuuya knows perfectly well that you would never do the “I'll see if the grass is greener somewhere else” thing (between you and me, who would with Chuchu as a boyfriend, anyway?).

- The story has a rather happy ending, if you put aside a certain point of view. Because the unknown person, strangely enough, did not really appreciate Chuuya's murderous look, despite the fact that the latter was supposed to have made peace with his feelings (according to him, at least).

~

Atsushi

- He is not jealous, not at all; he is just plagued by doubts, from all sides.

- The problem is not you, far from it... And maybe not even from the stranger, for that matter. No. The problem lies with Atsushi himself.

- He knows full well that you are not the type to hurt him by responding positively to a stranger's advances; he believes in you, that is for sure!

- He is simply making an inventory of everything this person has that is better than him; and he cannot help but conclude, inside his cute little head (which sometimes thinks a little too much...), that this stranger is a thousand times better than him.

- He then starts to get depressed, unsurprisingly, like a little cat with its ears down. He will cheer up, however, when your attention is drawn to his presence, and you give him one of those smiles he loves so much, probably the most beautiful he has ever seen in his whole life.

- He responds with a small, hesitant wave of his hand, but is delighted when you take leave of the stranger and walk towards him, all smiles.

- Of course, it does not take you long to notice (despite the fact that he is smiling too, as you walk hand in hand) that your favorite little tiger is not as jovial as usual... But, without you understanding at the time, he refuses to tell you why.

- In silence, you observe Atsushi's shifty eyes and flushed cheeks, as well as the stammering he makes when answering you, which has not escaped your notice either. Very quickly, you line up the elements at your disposal in your mind...

- And you cannot hold back a chuckle as you understand the reason for his strange actions. But why would he need to be envious of a stranger? Your favorite little feline already possesses everything you like in a boy... Otherwise you would not be with him in the first place! The list would be far too long.

- But he still have to understand that... And above all, accept it. And not end up comparing himself to some poor stranger who approached you as a loser from the start.

~

Yosano

- Without a doubt, this is the worst mistake this unconscious person could have made. Clearly.

- Daring to take an interest in her boyfriend/girlfriend? Unforgivable, and liable (for sure) to a good beating once your back is turned (or maybe not, depending on our dear doctor's patience at the time); Akutagawa has competition, and Yosano certainly has nothing to envy him!

- We cannot emphasize this enough, but survival lesson number one: never piss off the doctor, especially if she is armed with a chainsaw.

~

Oda

- The story in question took place during an evening at a small bar not far from your home, when he went off to use the bathroom, leaving you momentarily alone.

- When he returns, there is someone sitting next to you, at the bar where you and Oda had sat a few moments earlier. And this someone is rather close to you while you, on your side, are trying to get as far away from them as your seat will allow without falling.

- Oda is not known for getting angry easily, and that is exactly what is happening, even in this situation. He simply frowns and approaches gently, briefly placing his hand on your shoulder to let you know he is back, then sitting back down in his seat, opposite the stranger, with you in the middle.

- Oda's gaze is now neutral, but his presence and size are enough to intimidate the stranger: without further ado, they take off, almost running.

- Obviously, even if it is not written on his forehead, the fact that Oda is part of the Mafia must still be felt in the way he is... Especially if he is a little irritated, deep down. He is not really jealous, and he was not really planning to make the person go away; he only feared for your safety, which explains why he sat back down without saying anything.

- Afterwards, if the other person had tried anything... There might have been consequences, who knows.

~

Tecchou

- Known for doing whatever he wants, however he wants. Often with all the laziness in the world.

- He simply walks up to you, hoists you onto his shoulder like he would a sack of potatoes, and leaves just as quietly, without saying a word. But not without giving the rascal a dark look in the process, just to end on a pleasant note.

- No violence... At least not the kind you can see. Because, inside, he has already murdered this oblivious fellow a thousand times over.

~

Lucy

- Although she strives to appear self-confident in all circumstances, it is actually quite the opposite most of the time. She has lost count of the times when hesitation has got the better of her will, much to her dismay.

- But this time, annoyance far outweighed hesitation. And not just a little.

- To put it mildly, she is fuming, outraged that anyone would dare take such an interest in you.

- So she comes over and hugs you, with all her love for you, pulling you away from the intruder at the same time, and tells them straight to their face how she is feeling at the time (without them having asked you for anything out of the ordinary, except maybe the direction of the Post Office...). But all they had to do was not to approach you so closely, it could be confusing... And observe you that way, too....

- Basically, if a look could kill you, the person who came to talk to you (and more, if they were so inclined) would have been dead long ago.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Seeing Double - Chapter 6

Pairings - Simon "Ghost" Riley x MacTavish!Reader, Platonic! John "Soap" MacTavish × MacTavish Reader, Platonic! Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Summary - it’s time to recover, but not just from your recent past, but also what happened 2 years ago, but are you ready?

Warning- night terrors, torture, heavy descriptions of torture, angst(no comfort), slight fluff to break it up, discussions of mental health, possible medical inaccuracies

Author’s Note- tried a newer writing technique in the beginning of more detailed narration. + the treatment reader is going through is an actual treatment to night terrors that I researched as a psych major but irl the psychiatrist would do CBT then sedatives not the other way around + SOAP HAS WAVY/CURLY HAIR, argue with the damn wall idc if it’s not canon

Word Count - 4.5K

My requests are open!

Masterlist - Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt. 4. Pt.5

The sound of a beeping ekg brought you out of your deep sleep. The polyester hospital sheets were unforgiving against your skin when you moved. Your body ached with each movement, your hospital gown felt constricting as you moved.

The dimly lit room provided little reprieve to the assault on your retinas as your pupils slowly adjusted to the room. Your lashes fluttering off the harsh sediments of sleep still stuck to the tiny hairs.

Just as Atlas used all his might to raise the sky each day, you exerted the same force to strip your hand away from the warm home of your side where it rest to raise it into the stale hospital air. The clip attached to your finger to monitor your heart felt as heavy as ever as you fought the heavens and earth to keep your hand up.

The skin of your lips seamed to rip and tear at the lack of moisture as you finally parted them to take a deep breath. Your throat was internally pierced as cold air seeped into every crack and split with every breath you took. Before your vocal chords could thrum to life with even the faintest whimper, a voice stopped you.

“Easy now.” Came a soft velvet voice that you recognized as your eyes peeled open, the voice sounding like loud Christmas mornings and warm Sunday roasts, “I got yer water”

Johnny came into view with a soft smile but your focus was rather on the antidote he held in a white cup in his right hand. His palm taking forever to complete the journey of bringing then cylindrical container to your mouth. Your lips felt like they were ripping at the seams as your mouth open to accommodate the firm, plastic cup pressing at your lips. But as the clear ambrosia rushed down your throat and sealed every dry crevice, you felt the invigorating thrum of moisture flush down your body and it only made your thirst stronger. Your once weak digits now renewed with vigor as they coiled around Johnny’s wrists to tilt more water into your mouth

“Aye easy does it.” He spoke softly as he kept his grip on the cup stable as to not drown you or spill its contents. After you released his right limb slowly, he lowered the cup and you finally gazed upon your twin brother.

Johnny looked tired. He looked worn and ragged like somebody had rode him hard and hung him up sopping wet. His typically styled ringlets of deep hickory brown hair seemed to pout on his head as if it was a personification of his worry. The ringlets of unstyled frizz were a telltale sign that the man had been letting his hair air dry under a hospital vent rather than doing his simple routine for the curls. Exhaustion and fatigue seeped into every pore of his face. His deep eyebags seems to only downplay the weak smile displayed his features, as his body harshly pulled at the facial muscles in his cheeks to puppeteer the endearing expression. He was putting on a performance for you. Even under his civvy clothes, you could see the combinations of string pulling his limbs did to make each movement come to life for you.

“Hey Johnny.” You croaked out, the south reverberating through your upper register as you observed the man in front of you.

“Long time no see aye?” Came his soft response, a cheap, dry scoff of laughter passed through his lips as he sat beside. A soft clink resonantes as the hollow cup was placed on your bedside table.

“How long Johnny?” You questioned, if you were using your leftover vigor from the water to keep your eyelids peeled as you fought every inch to stay awake.

“About three days or so. You really needed the sleep. I emergency evac’d with yew after we made it back to the base. You’ve been in and out of sleep.” Johnny explained as he took your hand.

Just as your shifted your hips to sit yourself up for conversation. A lightning bolt of pain thundered up from your feet. Your eyelids shot wide open for half a moment as your brain registered what the pain meant and where it had come from. The little gift from Graves as a reminder of the playtime between Shepard’s favorite toys.

“Aye you were awake when they set your foot. I swear your wails could’ve broken a glass if you didn’t shatter my eardrums.” Johnny said, the pain behind his voice hidden well behind the self deprivation of his humor. He continued on as your eyelids began to droop “Ghost couldn’t bear to stand it. But Doc said you should be good to go in 4 weeks, your feet weren’t broken as badly as they loo…”

At the mention of your lieutenant, memories began to play over in front of your eyes. Icy blue eyes that somehow melted as they held your gaze. Calloused hands grazing your face as muscular limbs tangled in your own to support you fully. A relaxed Manchester accent whispering a name and a promise of safety in the dark, dreary night. But just as quickly as those beautiful images came, they left just as quickly.

“Yeah and then you’ll start PT after yer four weeks and then they should let ye back into the field at six weeks if ye choose to come back. I mean I’d rather ye stay but it’s yer choice and I know that ye’d neve-“ Your poor twin brother was beginning to ramble now and his accent thickening as his worry followed suit.

“Johnny. I’ll be fine in six week’s time. Ye of little faith in me.” Your voice came softly as you clasped his hand. His eyes meeting yours as he blinked in agreement

“I supposed yer right, now go back to sleep. I saw ye dozing off while I was a ramblin’ on.” Johnny chastised you softly. But his command was overkill as you were five steps ahead. Your eyelids long resealing the door to your soul as your head slowly lolled to the sided, your thoughts having escaped into the far corners of your mind long before the man finished. The beeping of the monitor was the only sound that filled the room as the Scotsman let out a quick huff

“Trouble sleeping my ass.” He sighed, only if he knew the turmoils that plagued your mind. Or the man that haunted your room.

“How long are ye gonna stand there?” Johnny probed the lieutenant who darkened the doorframe.

Ghost said nothing as he entered the room but stayed close to the wall opposite of your bed. He didn’t look as worse for wear as his sergeant but Ghost wasn’t ready to catwalk in Milan either. The higher ranked man wore his usual balaclava but had forgone the skull decorations, simply letting the white paint carry the facial design. His black hoodie and black cargos looked deeply worn in and stretched out over the black canvas of his body. At the sight of you peacefully resting in the bed, his heart began to lurch. His guilt slowly seeping out from his brain like poison to the rest of his body, the pain of his actions afflicting his mind and his limbs.

To the untrained eye, Ghost seemed to be scrutinizing you from a far away angle, but Johnny recognized the pinched optical muscle as a furrow of worry in his brows rather than a judgmental scorn. Johnny didn’t mind being seen as the idiot of the team because in all honest reality, it let him easily observe others better when they assumed he was just zoning out. But Johnny was the most emotionally intelligent on the team, he knew all of his team members by their tells. Ghost has his facial muscles, Gaz had his lip twitches, and John had a nasal sniff he’d do. Each of the men also had their boundaries and what they liked and didn’t, Johnny knew it all. Yet you, his twin sister were the new enigma on the team. It amazed Johnny how much you had changed and yet some things never did

“Doc said 4 weeks rest, two weeks PT and she’ll be fine. The biggest injury were her feet and bruised ribs.” Johnny said in a robotic tone, but as his hand enveloped yours in the bed, a crack interceded his voice. “Doc said she’s a fighter and a damn good soldier.”

“Twins do share traits, no?” Simon clipped out, no comment on your condition but rather a verbal pat on the back to your caretaker.

It took guts and other worldly devotion to be by a person’s side every waking and sleeping minute. It wasn’t that Johnny had no place to go, but rather there wasn’t any else Johnny wanted to be. The nurse’s stopped fighting him on the third night and let him bring a spare cot mattress into the rooms during after-hours. Ghost swore one night he heard him murmuring some bedtime story to you while he redid your hair for the next couple of days.

To Ghost’s credit, he didn’t not care about your condition. In fact it was easier to congratulate his fellow man rather than once again have to swallow the pill that he had been forcing down his own throat every night.

The pill that it was Simon’s fault you were here. Congratulating Johnny’s hard work was still a dagger because he wouldn’t have to be aiding your every need with each waking moment of his day right now if Simon had just done his damn part. His naive trust of Graves shackled you to this bed. His irresponsible jealousy of your past team were the boots that crushed your lower limbs. His foolish oversight were the hardened fists that bruised your ribs.

Simon should’ve pulled Graves out right when he saw your shackles raise at the mere sight of the Texan. He should called the mission off the very second you stiffened when the man spit out your call sign like it was a personal victory just to utter it. He should have put a lead bullet right between that Grave’s wandering eyes the second he called you sweetheart while his voice dripped syrupy venom.

But he didn’t, and now he would let himself be tortured by his mistakes. He would let the dagger of watching Johnny lose days of sleep twist his stomach as your screams of terror made his eardrums bleed hot, red ichor every night. He made his bed the second he let you into that room with Graves, now he would lie in it, no matter how cold and lonely it felt. But it would never be punishing enough even as he watched your heart monitor begin to beep faster, and your fingers twitched.

Your dreams always began the same no matter how hard you try. That damn basement in Las Almas. The cold concrete floors and the harsh cinder block walls coated in layers of dust. The shuffling of boots of footsoldiers at your door who salivated at the chance to break you. The clinking of metal cage doors as guard dogs were poised to lunge at you if you dared to make a run in the middle of the night. The hard wooden chair that splintered further each night as you dug yourself deeper into it for protection. The harsh rope binded your hands behind your back and your ankles to the legs of the chair. The synthetic nylon coil that scraped and irritated your skin with each minimal jerk of your wrists in any direction of escape. It was all the same, and so was the outcome.

The sweaty drug lord above you threatened you with the same ugly promises of being used, exposed, mutilated and discarded later as a carcass for the coyotes.

But that wasn’t the scary part, it was what came after. The immense pain, that’s what they never fully could train you for in the military—the torture of unbridled anger and sadism by your captor when you become a punching bag.

It’s the feeling of somebody’s dirty hands digging into every curve of your face to hold you still. The scraping of a thin fingernails digging endlessly into the thing flesh of your eyelid as they tore it wide open to fully reveal your eyeball. The ache of your tear duct being exposed to the unfiltered air. But the real pain and fear came when the glint of a serrated pocket knife flashed so close to your eye that you swore you could see your optic nerve in it’s reflection. But the dream always ended before your cornea could be violated by the crude blade. However your screams still rang out as your bodies last effort to protect itself long after the blade left it’s mark.

You shot up suddenly in your bed as your retinas were assaulted by the bright overhead lights. The ringing beeps of the ekg and squeaking of tennis shoes pierced your ears. Your vocal chords quaking with such a force that your head was ringing the church bells of the end times. Your own hands were restricted from reaching your throat by Johnny’s warm palms from the right side of the bed and the wires monitoring your health around your lower arms, wrists, and fingers.

“Hey it’s okay yer okay, yer safe.” Johnny’s voice rang out quickly over the other noises. As your tongue raced to spit out a response, the nurse stood on the left side as she checked your vitals.

“Patient is responsive now. Heart rate is stablizing on ekg and all bone structures seem to be in place.” She stated to another nurse as she looked at you. Her harsh eyes scanning for one single thing out of place or position that she could assist with. “Ma’am are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I am. Just a nightmare. That’s all.” You shot back quickly once your tongue managed to untie itself from the knots of terror from your previous vocal achievement. Your eyes scanned to her name tag to see her name was Lauren, she looked to be a much older and well seasoned nurse

“Alright I’m going to prescribe you a low dose of sedatives to get you through the night and then you can talk about this in the morning with Dr.Reid, okay?” She spoke to you slowly as you nodded, processing it.

“Sounds good ma’am.” You nodded as you clasped Johnny’s warm hands again to hold. The clear liquid slowly entering your IV just as you heard something about counting sheep before you were out again.

A deep sigh left the nurse as waited a minute to make sure you were out before turning to Johnny,

“How long have these night terrors been occurring? Longer than six months, longer than two years?”

“To be quite honest ma’am we have only been in direct contact and living together for less than 6 months.” Johnny nodded, “I wish I could tell you.”

The older woman mumbled a few curses before she looked at Johnny with a deep pity, “I’ll order a psych consult for later this week. But for right now I’m going to put her on a round of sedatives to sleep until Psych does a work up and proceeds with treatment. If it is night terrors, the sedatives will improve her sleep for now.”

“Do ye know what is causing these night terrors Ma’am?” Johnny worriedly asked as the nurse reached the door.

The woman paused before leaving Johnny with one last thought, “I’d venture to say your sister here managed to walk through hell and make it back mortal.”

The next few days Johnny didn’t ask you anything, and you didn’t bring it up. Instead you both played go fish when it was just you and him. Then poker when Kyle came around as often as he could, once or twice a day incase you wondered. Johnny always took the call when your parents rang and explained how they just simply caught you at your nap time, again! He always redid your hair in whatever style you wanted as long as it didn’t interfered with your wires and the nurse’s work. Gaz and Johnny took turns telling stories about what your twin did while you were on separate deployments. Johnny even let Gaz assist you when it was time to restyle his curls again after he kept on trying to dry finger brush comb the frizz out.

He didn’t even say anything to Ghost when he saw the man at ungodly hours shooting at the range or working himself dry in the gym. Two weeks since you’d all left Mexico and no word on Graves. Johnny was too busy with you to notice the radio silence but it ate at Ghost.

In return, Ghost didn’t say anything about how he saw Soap watching over you as you slept. He never left your side. He would even instinctually wake up before your terrors started to grab your arms and go through your breathing exercises. He didn't say anything about how Johnny was bumming smokes from him for some kind of stress relief. Nor did he say anything about how Johnny would murmur apologies to you as he watched you sleep. He was watching the guilt eat up his sergeant in real time, but Simon couldn’t say anything either but it was eating at him too.

But Simon’s was different. He had had a moment of weakness for you in the field. His sergeant’s sister and his own teammate. It’s completely inappropriate. For Christ’s sake he couldn’t even describe what he was thinking in Mexico but that moment alone haunts him. Simon shouldn’t have established himself as somebody for you to lean or depend on like that. He even took off his mask, told you his name, and called you ‘love’ what the helk was he thinking? He wasn’t the type to be emotionally available or emotionally stable, hell he hadn’t been honest in a psych form in years. He was a loner, no family, and no friends.

He could never been that person for you and he could never do that so Johnny. From the moment Johnny made it on the 141 he always talked about you, his twin, who was just as good as him and he always hope they’d be deployed together. Then the second Johnny gets his wish, Simon screws it up for him. Simon is the reason why you were here, Johnny shouldn’t feel guilty, he should be mad at his CO, Simon, for his mistake! It is the CO’s responsibility when a mission goes south, it was his job to keep the team safe and he failed.

Gaz kept you company while Johnny left to take showers, train recruits, do laundry, or run an errand of some kind. He was good company, great company actually.

“What so you guys were getting sloshed the night before with your old team?” Gaz gawked one afternoon over a game of blackjack. He sat on the right side of your bed, keeping Johnny’s spot warm.

“Not sloshed! Just a few drinks and dancing at a bar.” You defended as you recanted the night before.

“Ghost never let us do that when we was C.O. on my missions.” The man pouted to you as he dealt out a hand of blackjack.

“Maybe he softened up under the sun.” You murmured. The nice thought passing through as you met Gaz’s cocky smirk

“Pffff more like sweated so much the stick fell out of his ass.” Gaz quipped as he dealt you a 7 of spaces and a 3 of clubs.

“What was that?” Ghost said as he suddenly appeared at the doorframe of the room.

If humans didn’t have the rigid body structure they were created with, you’re sure that Gaz’s bones would’ve jumped right out of his skin into the ceiling above. You on the other hand would’ve been a sad sack of bones on the bed as the red hot embarrassment of getting caught would’ve melted your skin right off.

“Nothing!” You and Gaz shrieked at the same time, getting caught with your hands in the candy jar.

“Sure. Anyways, MacTavish you’ve got a psych consult tomorrow at 1400, got it?” Ghost spoke gruffly as he stared you down. His voice wasn’t harsh out of an aggressive manner but rather a stern concern. His look when he met your eyes told you that all you had to say was yes sir or sound off. This was not a discussion.

“Heard L.T.” You nodded, your mask quickly slipping on in front of the man now that the safety of your space was invaded by the dominant figure. The man left out a gruff noise, then walked out. Your swore as he left your view, the room became brighter again.

“Geez talk about a close call.” Gaz murmured.

“Yeah tell me about it, hit me.” You said as you started at you 10. You swore Gaz’s eyes were going to pop out of his head when you hit jackpot a moment later.

When the psych consult came. You swear Johnny was going to eat all of his fingernails off outside the door. The consult took about 30 minutes and at the end you were diagnosed with PTSD-induced night terrors to be treated by multiple sessions of cognitive behavioral therapy followed by talk therapy until further notice. Basically the on-base psychologist was going to get to know you pretty quick. But even as she walked out, that wasn’t your biggest concern.

Now it was time to tell Johnny what you had been through and all of the secrets you hid from him behind your smiles over calls during the holidays. Your heart was pounding against your ribs and almost punching your lungs and throat with the force of your anxiety bubbling beneath the surfaces.

“Ye don’t have to tell me everything all at once or even anything at all.” Johnny reassured you as he sat on the edge of your bed when you ushered him in.

“But I want to Johnny. I promised, and MacTavishes are women and men-“

“Of their word.” Johnny finished the phrase with a knowing look, “okay. I’m ready when you are”

You took a deep breath as the memories flashed before your mind’s eye. The hot beautiful beaches of Las Almas that once made you cry out in anguish but now you relish to be in her warm embrace again. The long nights at the bars and baile with Los Vaqueros that you swore were to ‘practice your Spanish’ but you ended up practicing your coordination. The long nights studying slang and pronunciation with Rudy. The long nights where Rudy would help you practice your dancing even with no bar and no band, just the safety of a barrack room shared by you two as Alejandro’s trusted lieutenants.

“I graduated top of my class from the academy with a noted proficiency in languages. So they sent me to Las Almas for ‘diplomatic ties’ between the US and Mexico. Los Vaqueros would get a translator and I would get hands on experience before I was assigned to a force in the US, right? Except I got comfortable there, I became attached. It was easy to fall into the routine of drug sweeps, paperwork, then relax and have fun. I became too close with Rudy, nothing official but we had our fun.” You took a deep breath at the memories of the nights you shared with Rudy and the way Rodolfo would yank your chain

“aye Chiquita, Buenos Dias! ¿Rudy y tu se quedaron despiertos hasta tarde praciticando con sus lenguas otra vez?” (Goodmorning! Did you and Rudy stay up late practicing your languages/tongues again?) Alejandro would tease whenever he watched you stumble out of the door in the morning for a cup of a coffee with a certain shame to your steps.

There would be a giggle let out by the three of you as you always blushed hard and never gave in to the responses. Meanwhile Rudy would walk in and give it back equally to his C.O. There was an air of ease around the three of you in Las Almas. The hot desert sun was no longer torturous when you were with them. It rather was the heat that stoked the fire of new beginnings for you. It allow your fiery MacTavish traits to burn for days upon end without needing to be stoked.

Johnny took your hand and looked deep into your eyes as you slowly came back to him, letting memories pass by as you spoke, “then things took a turn when Valeria sold us out to the local cartel, told them I wasn’t just a college student but that I was apart of the US government and I was the reason their packages were getting swiped, not her. Before I could go undercover with no problem but after Valeria sold me out, they knew my face, so during a mission one night they kidnapped me by slipping my drink and leading me out with a gun shoved into my back. I woke up in this dirty basement where they tortured me for days. They hit me, beat me, they even tried to slice my back open. They never once raped me though, the boss wouldn’t allow it until he was through with me. He wanted to know what I was really doing and where I had put his drug stash. On the final day, he revealed that they had photos of Rudy and I, intimate photos. So I threw up on him while he interrogated me about them and he cut my right eye. I never scratched it in the accident like I told you.” You said softly as you looked at him. Johnny listening intently as his own chest swelled with hurt. He felt sick and angry but what mattered more was listening to you and letting you feel heard. So he simply nodded for you to continue as you sniffled out the beginning of a sob.

“Finally on the 7th day or something, Rudy came through the door and like an angel he took care of me. Alejandro was there too while I was transported to the hospital but Rudy was there for the month that I said in emergency care. He nursed me back to health.” You nodded with a soft smile, before frowning remembering the final detail, the final nail in the coffin, “they call me Banshee because...” Your voice trailed off as a sob overtook you and Johnny immediately came to your aid.

His limbs holding you tight as if you would slip through his grip into their clutches again. Your face was buried in his chest so much so that you didn’t even notice some of the hot tears on your face belonged to Johnny, not you.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Johnny said as you both came down from the moment. A slow nod was given in response by you as you both decided that the silence was probably best for a little while.

Yet even as the silence of the room defeaned your thoughts, Johnny’s still raced on. How the hell did Graves know about what happened to you, and how was he connected to it.

Author’s Notes - I hope y’all liked it! Comments and Reblogs are welcome and are greatly appreciated!!

[trippiexlove]

Story Masterlist

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Previous Part

Ch.7

The persistent buzz of her iPad remained unanswered. Evren found a strange comfort in the silence, a temporary reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions stirred by Jey's actions and Dr. Rhodes's lingering threat. Each unanswered call felt like a small act of reclaiming her agency, a silent protest against the way both men had tried to control her situation. Yet, beneath the surface of her defiance, a knot of anxiety tightened with each passing hour. The potential repercussions of Jey's protection loomed large, casting a shadow over her return to the familiar chaos of the hospital.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm of her morning tasks, a polite but firm voice interrupted her charting. "Evren? Mrs. McMahon would like to see you in her office." The charge nurse's neutral tone offered no clue as to the nature of the summons, but a prickle of unease ran down Evren's spine.

Mrs. McMahon's office felt sterile and impersonal. Seated across from the HR representative were two uniformed police officers, their presence immediately amplifying Evren's apprehension. Confusion warred with a growing sense of dread.

"Ms. Smith," Mrs. McMahon began, her expression serious, "we've received an anonymous report concerning the incident involving Dr. Rhodes. During our conversation with him, Dr. Rhodes suggested that you might have some knowledge of who was responsible for his injuries."

Evren's mind raced. Anonymous report? Rhodes pointing the finger at me? She forced herself to maintain a calm facade, her heart pounding against her ribs. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I was as surprised as anyone to hear about what happened to Dr. Rhodes."

The officers exchanged a look. One of them leaned forward slightly. "We have security footage from the hospital parking lot, Ms. Smith. Footage that clearly shows you in the vicinity of Dr. Rhodes's vehicle around the time the incident likely occurred."

A wave of panic washed over Evren. She had walked that way after her shift, hadn't she? The casual route to her car now felt like damning evidence. Then she saw the two figures, dressed in all black and their face covered. Her heart sunk deeper into her chest. Despite the visual confirmation, she instinctively clung to her denial. "I was just leaving work," she insisted, her voice a little too high. "I didn't see anything. I don't know who would have done that."

Mrs. McMahon's gaze was direct. "Dr. Rhodes seems to believe otherwise. He insinuated that you might have personal connections who would act on your behalf."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Evren felt a surge of anger towards Dr. Rhodes for his manipulative tactic and a sharp pang of frustration with Jey for putting her in this position. Yet, a strange sense of loyalty, born from their connection, compelled her to protect him. "I have no idea what Dr. Rhodes is suggesting," she maintained, her voice firm.

Finally, a flicker of resolve ignited within her. Enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her focus to Mrs. McMahon. "However," she began, her voice gaining strength, "what I can tell you is that I had an extremely uncomfortable and inappropriate encounter with Dr. Rhodes in the break room a few days ago. He..." Her voice wavered slightly as she recounted the violation, the fear, and her abrupt departure. "So I think he is using this as retaliation towards me."

The officers listened intently, their expressions shifting. Mrs. McMahon's initial sternness softened with concern. They asked Evren for more details, their questions probing but respectful. After what felt like an eternity, Mrs. McMahon concluded the interview. "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Smith. We will investigate this matter thoroughly and will be in touch if we require any further information."

Leaving Mrs. McMahon's office, Evren felt a mix of exhaustion and simmering resentment. She was irritated at being dragged into this mess, furious with Dr. Rhodes for his continued manipulation, and deeply conflicted about Jey's actions, which had inadvertently made her a target. The bitter irony of lying to protect the man who had violated her wasn't lost on her.

She found solace in the familiar faces of Zahria, Jade, and Bianca at the nurses' station. As she sat down to chart, she recounted the unsettling meeting. Her friends were immediately supportive, their outrage directed squarely at Dr. Rhodes. "Of course, he's trying to deflect," Jade scoffed. "The nerve of his narcissistic ass!" Bianca added, "Don't worry, Evren, we know the truth." Zahria placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We're here for you, every step of the way."

Later in their shift, as the pace slowed and it was just Evren and Zahria, her friend's expression turned thoughtful. "So," Zahria began gently, "how are things with you and Josh? You haven't mentioned him."

Evren sighed, leaning back in her chair. "We haven't spoken since... everything happened. I'm still trying to process it all. I'm angry, Zahria. He acted without thinking about the consequences for me."

"I get that," Zahria said softly. "But think about it Evren, he was just doing what any guy would do for a girl he cares about." 

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Evren's face. Was that true? Was this a normal reaction? A protective instinct gone awry? Or was it something more possessive, something that spoke of a fundamental misunderstanding of her own strength and agency? She didn't have an answer, and the silence that stretched between her and Zahria felt heavy with unspoken questions. She busied herself with the patient charts, the familiar routine a small anchor in the swirling uncertainty of her thoughts.

"Where do you see things going with him, Evren? Can you see a future together, despite his situation?" Zahria questioned.

Evren hesitated, her brow furrowed. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I care about him, I really do. But this-it's complicated. And honestly," she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping, "I don't even know why he's in prison. He's never talked about it." A nervous flutter ran through her. "If we're going to have any kind of real future, he needs to be open with me."

Zahria nodded in understanding. "You're right, Evren. That's a huge piece of the puzzle missing. You need to talk to him."

Evren sighed again, a reluctant agreement. Just then, the familiar chime of her phone broke the quiet. Slipping away to the rooftop lounge for a moment of peace, she saw a message from Josh.

From Fatu, Joshua #1759: Evren, I am so sorry. I messed up. I know I was wrong to handle things that way. I was so angry and worried about you.

The vulnerability in his words surprised her. She read over the message a few times before she typed out a reply.

To Fatu, Joshua #1759: Josh, thank you for the apology. I can admit I was angry too, and maybe I overreacted, but I hope you can understand why I felt that way.

It didn't take him long before he immediately replied.

From Fatu, Joshua #1759: I understand ma. I just wanted to protect you. 

Before she could reply, another message popped up

From Fatu, Joshua #1759: What time do you get off work?

To Fatu, Joshua #1759: Six

From Fatu, Joshua #1759: I'll call you when you get home. 

Locking her phone, she retreated back to the fluorescent hum of the nurses' station, focusing on completing the rest of her rounds, the anticipation of his call a quiet undercurrent to her tasks. As she was leaving the hospital, the setting sun casting long shadows across the parking lot, she happened to walk past Dr. Rhodes. He offered her a smug, knowing smirk, but Evren refused to let it penetrate her fragile composure. Meeting his gaze with a hard, unwavering look of her own, she walked with newfound purpose to her car and drove away

It was as if he had sensed her being home. The moment she stepped into the quiet of her apartment, her phone rang. Jey's voice, thick with remorse, filled her ear. He reiterated his apology, and Evren, weary from the day's events, found herself offering forgiveness. "It's okay, Josh. Let's just try to move past this."

Then, his tone shifted, becoming hesitant. "Evren it's hard for me to admit the way I feel sometime but, I've grown to care about you a lot. More than I expected to anyways. That's why I reacted the way I did."

Evren was stunned into a momentary silence, the unexpected confession hanging in the air between them. "I... I care about you too, Josh," she finally managed, her voice a soft whisper, tinged with a complex mix of affection and apprehension. "But it's hard, our situation. You're there, and I'm here. And I feel like I'm opening up to you, but there's this whole part of your life that's closed off to me, a wall between us."

A beat of silence hung between them. Then, Jey's voice, earnest and low, broke through. "Come visit me" 

Silence met the phone until Evren spoke up, "Are you serious Josh?"

"I'm deadass ma," He did his best to convince her, "there are things I want to talk about. Things I can't really say over the phone."

Evren hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. Visiting him... behind bars. The image was stark and unsettling. "Okay," she finally said, a nervous anticipation fluttering in her chest, a fragile bridge forming across the distance. "I'll come visit you." They made tentative plans, a date etched in the uncertain future, a promise to bridge the physical and emotional chasm that had grown between them, leaving Evren with a knot of apprehension and a sliver of fragile hope.

Days later, the familiar hum of the nurses' station was her domain. Filling Pamela's shoes as Charge Nurse for the day, Evren navigated the usual morning rush with a lighter step in her gait, a subtle buoyancy that hadn't been there in days. Zahria, ever observant, leaned against the counter beside her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"What's got you all smiley?" Zahria's voice was low, conspiratorial. She gave Evren a playful nudge.

Evren busied herself with a chart, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing. Can't a girl just be in a good mood?" A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Zahria raised a skeptical eyebrow, her sarcasm thick and familiar. "Oh, I'm sure meticulously documenting drainage and chasing down missing supplies is the pinnacle of joy." Evren's answering laugh was bright and unrestrained. "Come on, spill it," Zahria insisted, her gaze unwavering.

Evren glanced around the bustling station before meeting Zahria's curious eyes. "I'm going to go see Josh tomorrow."

Zahria's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Really?!" She quickly perched on the stool next to Evren, her earlier teasing forgotten. "Tell me everything. How did that happen?"

"Well," Evren began, a soft smile returning, "he ended up calling me when I got home from work last week. We talked... really talked. I told him how I was feeling, and he asked me to come see him. Said there are things he wants to tell me, things he can't say over the phone." A flicker of nervousness danced in her eyes.

"And how are you feeling about it?" Zahria gently probed, her expression softening with concern. "Nervous about seeing him in person?"

Evren nodded, a small, honest admission. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not. It feels... different. But I'm also incredibly curious. Curious to see him, to gauge his presence in person versus just through messages and calls." A hopeful anticipation mingled with the anxiety.

"Just go in and be yourself, Evren," Zahria advised, her tone reassuring. "Think of it as just another conversation, just like you have on the phone, but face-to-face." She hoped to anchor her friend to the familiar comfort of their phone calls.

Evren felt a sliver of her anxiety ease, but the underlying nervousness remained. "You're right. I'm probably overthinking it."

"Don't let it press you, girl," Zahria smiled warmly before pushing herself off the stool. "You got this."

The next day arrived with an almost unsettling speed. The hours had ticked by, each one bringing her closer to a reality she had only imagined through a screen and a voice.

Evren stood before her open closet, a landscape of fabric and color that suddenly felt inadequate. Pacing back and forth, she mentally cycled through outfits, each option feeling either too casual or trying too hard. Today wasn't just meeting Josh; it was meeting the real Josh, the one behind the phone calls. The pressure of a first in-person meeting weighed heavily.

Frustration bubbled up, and with a sigh of defeat, she reached for her phone. Zahria would know what to do.

The phone rang only once before Zahria's cheerful voice filled her ear. "What's up, girl?"

"I need your help," Evren blurted out, bypassing any pleasantries. "I'm supposed to be meeting Josh today, and I have absolutely no idea what to wear."

"On my way." The line went dead, Zahria's efficiency a familiar comfort. Evren retreated to her bedroom, a sense of relief washing over her as she waited.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar click of Zahria's key in the lock announced her arrival. Zahria bounded up the stairs, a whirlwind of supportive energy. "Okay, I'm here. Crisis averted."

"I can't even think straight," Evren confessed, gesturing to the overflowing closet with a frustrated wave of her hand.

"Alright, well, let's start with the basics," Zahria said, already diving into the racks. "Are there any restrictions? Anything you absolutely can't wear?"

"Yeah, nothing too revealing, and definitely no heels or sandals," Evren replied, picturing the sterile environment of a correctional facility.

Zahria expertly navigated the different racks and drawers, her eyes scanning the possibilities. Finally, she held up a simple outfit: a pair of loose-fitting dark-wash jeans, a soft, long-sleeved knit top in a muted color, and a light jacket. "This should be perfect. Comfortable, not revealing, and you can wear those cute sneakers you just bought."

Relief washed over Evren, and she pulled her best friend into a tight hug. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you." She hurried off to get changed, the outfit already feeling right.

Zahria laughed softly, shaking her head with affection as she took a seat on Evren's bed, waiting patiently.

When Evren emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, she turned to Zahria, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Okay, how do I look?"

Zahria's eyes widened, and she launched into a full-blown hype session. "Bitch, he might just snatch you up right there! You look good. Like, effortlessly good."

Evren glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, giving herself a critical once-over. "I just want to make a good first impression." A nervous flutter danced in her stomach.

"Girl, that man has literally seen you in a bonnet. Trust me, you look amazing, and he's going to think the same." Zahria walked over, wrapping her in a comforting hug, sensing the lingering nerves. "Relax. It's the same as talking through a camera, just face-to-face. You've got this."

Evren felt a tangible shift in her anxiety, a wave of gratitude washing over her for her steadfast friend. "Thank you, Zah. I really needed that." She squeezed Zahria's hand before checking her watch. "Shit, I'm running late."

Grabbing her purse, they walked downstairs and out of the house. Evren locked up, sending Zahria a grateful wave as they headed off in different directions.

The hour-long drive to the correctional facility felt both agonizingly slow and terrifyingly fast. Pulling into a visitor parking spot, Evren took a deep breath, the sterile, imposing architecture of the building a stark contrast to the warmth of her apartment.

She made her way inside through the designated visitors' entrance, the air thick with a hushed tension. After a short wait in line, she was called to the next service window. An older Black woman with kind eyes and a warm smile sat behind the glass. "Hey sweetheart, how are you today? Who are you here to visit?"

"I'm good, thank you. I'm here to visit Joshua Fatu."

The woman nodded slightly. "Can I have your I.D., please?" Evren grabbed her driver's license, handing it over. The woman typed on her computer, scanned the ID, and then handed it back with a small printed slip. "Here's your visitor's pass. Please keep it visible throughout your visit. A guard will be with you shortly to escort you to the visiting area."

"Thank you," Evren replied, offering a small, polite smile before stepping to the side. She carefully attached the pass to her right shoulder and took an empty seat, her heart beginning to thump a little faster.

Her wait wasn't long. A tall, imposing guard with a stern but not unkind face appeared at the door. "Visitor for Fatu?" Evren immediately stood, her legs feeling a little unsteady as she walked towards him. He led her through a long, echoing hallway, the sounds of their footsteps the only interruption to the silence. He scanned his badge at a heavy steel door, the electronic buzz granting them entry into the visiting area.

"Take a seat at any table. A guard will be escorting him to you momentarily." He offered a curt nod before leaving her in the large, open room.

Evren quickly scanned the area, choosing a table near the center. The room was filled with a quiet murmur of conversations. She observed a young child animatedly telling a story to an inmate, their mother watching with a bittersweet smile. Another inmate sat across from an older couple, their faces etched with worry and love.

Before she could fully absorb the scene, the distinct sound of a door buzzing open at the far end of the room drew her attention. Her breath hitched in her throat. As her gaze locked with his across the crowded room, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of that first, real-life connection.....

Oooh, sorry to leave y'all on a cliffy againnnn 😬, how y'all think the visit going to go?

Let me know how y'all like this chapter ☺️

Previous Part

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[badslittlemuffin]

hii, I have a request for you :)

shoto x reader with atla quirk

thank u for the request!!

i took the initiative and decided airbender MWAHAHAH i honestly haven't read many shoto fics so i'm sorry if this is ooc</3

shoto x airquirk!reader, oblivious shoto, reader is utterly fed up, ooc shoot sorry, horrible quirk writing!! cringe yearning

wc: 780

Shoto was, by no means, an expert when it came to social cues.

He knew that, and came to live with being utterly confused when anybody hinted at something towards him. So, when you started to act a bit more... touchy? He had absolutely no idea. At first, you found it a little silly how oblivious he was at times, but now, you were just annoyed.

You and Shoto were in the middle of some training/sparring, as you had suggested earlier that day. At the moment, however, he was helping you with your quirk. Unlike him, you had never gotten such training when it came to your quirk when you were younger. In fact, it had been somewhat discouraged in your home. So, Shoto, being ever so kind, was helping you with controlling larger and quicker winds.

He stood to the side of you, large flames erupting from his left side as he instructed you to try to put out the flames using your wind. You stood for a moment, building up as much force as you could, and forcing the current of air to explode—but only managing to set out a small portion of his fire.

You groan in annoyance, flopping dramatically onto the floor. His duel-colored eyes widen in concern, and he rushes over to you, dropping to his knees. "Are you alright?" His voice is deep and steady. You nod, a small snort escaping your lips. "Yeah, just... frustrated that no matter how hard I try, I just can't get enough wind to listen to me." You run your sweaty hands through your hair, irritation evident on your face.

His expression morphs into one of understanding as he moves to sit beside you. It's quiet for a moment, his eyes staring at a wall, presumably in deep thought. "You think of the wind as if it's something that cannot move on its own, that you need to control its every move," he says, his gaze moving to you. "But air and the wind move on their own. You are simply its guidance."

You soak in his words for a moment, glancing up at him. He smiles gently, moving to stand. "Would you like to try again?" You nod, taking his outstretched hand. He moves back to where he stood previously, flames erupting from his side once more.

You close your eyes, concentrating on the movement of the air surrounding you. Gradually, you begin to accelerate the currents of the wind, visualizing a path narrowing as the air rushes forward, extinguishing his fire. Shoto turns to you, a rare grin spreading across his lips. "See?"

You grin, nodding. His right side starts to frost up, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Want to try with my ice?" You feign exasperation, before nodding. A thin wall of ice bursts from his side, and you concentrate, attempting to follow your same movements from earlier but only managing to break off some of the thinnest parts at the top.

Shoto notices your struggle, walking up beside you. He places his hand on your waist, his body so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "Relax...you're thinking too much about it..." He mumbles, his voice low, sending a small shiver down your spine. Did he realize how...intimate this was? Or was he that oblivious?

You attempt once more, but it proves difficult to concentrate with the closeness of his body. The air you manage to control this time is much weaker, and he notices. "What's wrong?" He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. You take a deep, stuttering breath, your eyes darting up to his. He was so close.

His gaze is warm, his touch gentle. Your focus is suddenly trained on him alone. "I..." Words die in your throat before you can even think to utter them. His breath felt closer now. You reddened at the closeness, and he noticed. You saw the hint of a smirk tug at his lips, which only made you blush harder, the tips of your ears feeling hot.

Before you can think of something to say, his lips are on yours. Your eyes slam shut, your body melting into his touch, hands on his shoulders. The kiss is uncertain, and oh so gentle. His whole body is warm, you realize, your body tingling at the sensation of it all.

He pulls away slowly, his bright eyes fluttering open. "Sorry, I should have asked first..." He mumbles, his face red. You snort, "It's okay...trust me." He smiles nervously.

So maybe he was a little oblivious, but he got it eventually. That was all you could ask for.

i lowkey didnt know what to do with this but I hope you like it anyway :')

[beardedmrbean]

Frustration with Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has reached a breaking point on her home turf, with fed up Queens and Bronx constituents telling The Post they’re sick and tired of being second fiddle to the jet-setting socialist’s primary focus — herself.

Her district offices in the Bronx and Queens offer little to justify the $1.9 million the congresswoman gets to run them — one is only open a single weekday and the other is closed on Fridays, with phones that go unanswered and constituents urged to discuss their problems “by appointment only.”

AOC’s town halls used to be monthly events – now are only held once in a blue moon, there’s virtually no way to get in a question, and sometimes she only phones in and doesn’t bother coming in person, galled constituents said.

“This woman has done nothing for the community she was once again elected to serve,” said Lauro Vazquez of Woodside, Queens.

Vazquez echoed a sentiment heard in all corners of AOC’s bi-borough district — that they and the “mundane” issues they care about — jobs, public safety, traffic — are an afterthought for a representative with her eyes on the national stage.

The perception turned into a reality last week at a town hall in Jackson Heights, when AOC gave a packed auditorium of people just under an hour of face time before dashing for the exit to an idling SUV.

She took only six questions.

The public meeting had already been postponed from its original date because the lawmaker fell ill after wrapping her nationwide Fighting the Oligarchy tour with Bernie Sanders.

“Of course, it’s cancelled — too busy jet setting around on private jets screaming about ‘oligarchs’ and setting up her bid for a POTUS run,” said Vazquez. “This woman has done nothing for the community she was once again elected to serve.”  

“It’s hard to find a private plane – it’s Easter weekend,” mocked Jackson Heights resident Tatiana Lacatus of the cancelled event. “She is too big for us.”

Elmhurst’s Ramses Frias, a Republican City Council candidate, called Ocasio-Cortez an “absentee landlord” disconnected from the reality of her working-class constituents.

“She’s flying around on private jets, talking about the oligarchy, which is not really resonating with the regular guy – the person going shopping over here at the supermarket,” he said, sarcastically adding, “She’s a rock star.”

On matters big and small, critics in her district — which includes Astoria and Jackson Heights in Queens, and the South Bronx — said AOC is failing the people that put her into office.

She has done little on a controversial $8 billion casino proposal by Mets owner Steve Cohen on parkland near Citi Field, which opponents fear will become a blight on the community.

At the town hall, all AOC could do was shrug off the concerns.

“The Citi Field Park has been redistricted out of my district,” she said. “I have respectfully made my position on this known to folks who are weighing in on it. I don’t really have anything to do on that besides making my position known.”

But critics said she will pounce on an issue that suits her — even if it is nowhere near her district.

She made headlines in 2021 by briefly volunteering to work at a Houston food bank and help raise more than $5 million for Texans after the state was devastated by winter storms – yet some of her own constituents said she did little to assist New Yorkers that same year who were slammed by Hurricane Ida and still dealing with the pandemic.

The congresswoman paid only lip service after the Trump administration last month announced it was cancelling $200 million in grants for climate-friendly “cloudburst projects” that help absorb heavy rains, according to critics. Some of these projects were slated for parts of flooding-plagued parts of Queens.

But in March she loudly advocated for Columbia University graduate student Mahmoud Khalil, who is not her constituent, after the anti-Israel activist was arrested and detained.

“Mahmoud was a Columbia student — but our office has been able to take the lead on that case for the New York City delegation,” she boasted at the town hall.

Locals expect more from the lawmaker who recently boasted about commanding crowds of 86,847 people, including in far flung places like Missoula, MT, and Nampa, ID.

“I wish she did more,” admitted Aimee Rosato, an AOC campaign volunteer. “We don’t need a casino, it drives me a bit wild.”

“She will help if it gets her name on national issues,” sniffed Jackson Heights’ Gloria Contreras. “She’s about her and getting worldwide attention while ignoring her constituents.”

Even fellow comrades are tired of the schtick.

“She’s always on TV trying to build up her profile – not to represent her neighbors and fight for funding for her constituents,” a longtime lefty Queens pol told The Post.

Another slap in the face came this week after her office asked business owners to fill a survey about the impact of tariffs, which was viewed as a shameless attempt to bash President Trump’s policies and elevate herself on the national scene.

“Now you are digging for dirt?” slammed retired nurse Jeanette Geary

Many pointed to a failure not just to bring economic development to her district — but to sabotage it, like killing the deal to bring an Amazon headquarters to Queens after she first got elected. It would’ve created 25,000 jobs and was backed by most of her constituents.

“We need to focus on good healthcare, living wages, affordable rent. Corporations that offer none of those things should be met w/ skepticism,” she posted on X at the time.

“She killed the Amazon deal, ghosted her district, and thinks viral TikToks make her a legislator,” said Republican mayoral candidate and Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa.

One of AOC’s two district offices, in Astoria, is open only one day a week and is shared with Queens Councilwoman Tiffany Caban, a fellow socialist. Typically, Caban’s workers are forced to take in-person messages left for AOC because the congresswoman isn’t regularly staffing the office, sources said.

Ocasio-Cortez’ main constituent office in the Bronx’ Hunts Point is closed Fridays and shuttered for long lunch breaks the other four days.

When The Post paid a visit, a Spanish-speaking constituent, who was seeking help on an immigration matter, had to wait outside the office for about 30 minutes until 1pm before she was allowed to enter.

Phone calls usually go unanswered, leaving the public with no way to contact staff unless they show up in person. 

And when they do, they are met by an intimidating sign at the door at the Astoria office demanding “by appointment only” — or a surveillance camera and iPad check-in in the Bronx, where they have to give personal information before they can talk to a worker on issues.

Forget about actually seeing AOC in town.

She has spent at least $101,788 in campaign funds on flights across the US in just the past year, Federal Election Commission records show. 

She spent three days in March and five days in April with Sanders on their national oligarchy tour. 

Many believe she is eyeing the White House.

She raked in a jaw-dropping $9.6 million in campaign donations during the first quarter of this year, shattering her own personal record and fueling rumors of a future presidential run.

Her office did not respond to questions about how often the congresswoman was in her district in the past year, only boasting she is the most popular NYC politician, according to a Siena College poll in April.

“She is a constant presence in the district and deeply engaged with the issues that matter to her constituents” her chief of staff Mike Casca told the Post.

However, Councilman Robert Holden, a moderate Queens Dem, said he “hears from her constituents constantly — and AOC is nowhere to be found.”

“She can’t be bothered doing mundane constituent services like addressing quality of life issues in her district,” he said.

Holden added: “She’s too busy trying to make our entire country into a carbon copy of the failed Soviet Union — Queens and the Bronx deserve better.”

[lightlycareless]

warnings: highschool au. fluff. naoya has been redeemed.

So, imagine the same situation where Gojo, Geto and Shoko had to go check in on Utahime and Mei Mei after their mission took a little longer than anticipated… only it’s Naoya having to check in on you instead.

However, this assignment doesn’t land on his hands just because, in fact, I believe that no one in jujutsu high thought him appropriate for such jobs; having well-earned the reputation of “careless with civilians” and “would scare sorcerers off the mission” to even consider him! He was simply out of the question.

It doesn’t stop Naoya from working his way around these hindrances, which he managed to do so by bribing. In other words, the moment he hears one of his fellow classmates has gotten assignment of his interest, he’s already signing checks under his name—only when threatening doesn’t work, of course; no one is deserving of his money.

Outside of you, whom he’s willing to dedicate his very own existence.

After making the appropriate arrangements, you’re naturally surprised to see he’s the one to come to your rescue when things to awry, instead of your sister (how did Naoya convince her to give him this task?), or even Gojo, depending on the complexity of said mission. Nanami sometimes comes along, but he’s usually paired with you.

Nonetheless, your shock doesn’t last long when you eventually warm up to his presence, ecstatic to see that all of your problems gone with the familiar, handsome face of your boyfriend.

“Naoya! I can’t believe you’re here!!” you gasp, diving into his arms. “Oh, you really are like a knight in shining armor!!”

“Did you expect someone else?” Even when coming to your rescue, he still manages to find a way to tease you. And sweep you off your feet, quite literally.

“No, of course not!” you gasp, blushing at his action—but even then… you don’t put up much of a fight. You couldn’t wait to leave all this behind and solely focus on him. “…Well, maybe, you’re not that keen on doing these types of things, right?”

“Only for you.” He winks, the warmth in your cheeks deepens. Since when was he this… charming? “Let’s get you out of here, princess. We have lots of other things to catch up to.”

“Wait, I can’t just leave my partner here! We have to appropriately finish this mission.” You say, gentling nudging him to put you down.

“You prefer your work partner over your actual partner?” he frowns, unmoving.

No, obviously! But you still held a big sense of responsibility when it came to your work, and such, Naoya rushes to wrap up your assignment so the two can finally indulge in each other’s presence.

His quickness to solve these matters soon made your classmates ecstatic to be paired with you, for it meant their work would be done the very moment you were deployed into a mission—and if that wasn’t enough, to also be treated a meal from those fancy restaurants Naoya likes to frequent (due to your insistence to include them, of course. If it were to him, he’d leave them to their own devices.) before being dumped back at jujutsu high, made their opinions about him change as well.

From an insufferable jerk, to a surprisingly devoted boyfriend, occasionally pleasant classmate—until his usual self surfaces once more and throws these thoughts out the window—it was no surprise many grew jealous of your relationship.

But not in the matter of coming in between the two and pursue its rupture, but rather, in the sense of demanding their own partners to be more like him, as shocking as that sounded! Depending on the perspective, it was quite a dreamy request.

Except for the small few who did want to ruin said relationship, setting their eyes on the prize that Naoya represented, with the sole intention of having him all for themselves, careless of what it takes.

Or who ends up hurt.

Ultimately, at your expense.

naoya stops his interventions at your missions soon after the teachers find out he's been bailing you out from work, and because you do take your preparation seriously lol. he hates it, but he hates the prospect of your anger even more.

also, the following piece to this is one i hate jfc. you shall know why eventually.

[miiyoshi]

free massages

iwaizumi x reader -- cw: shoulder massage, iwa doesn't know his strength at first wc: 643 // an: iwa gives good massages, he swears!

zing! goes your sore shoulders as you pack up your work at the end of the day. god, is this annoying. maybe it's time to invest in a new pillow, you think to yourself, gently squeezing your right shoulder with your left hand.

the soreness interrupted your sleep before your alarm even went off in the morning, following you all day and creeping up during the worst times (when you were holding onto the railing on the subway, making coffee while chit-chatting with your work bestie, holding the door open for the coworkers behind you all entering the same meeting room). and now that the long, cruel day has come to an end, your sore shoulders don't seem to be budging.

finally making it through the doors of your shared apartment, you can't help but toss your bags by the walkway and slump your tired body onto the sofa where iwaizumi was already situated enjoying whatever movie he put on the television.

"long day at work?" he chuckles to you after seeing the way you practically dragged your body onto the couch.

"not even work, just this knot in my shoulders is killing me."

iwaizumi rips his focus away from the tv and turns to you, "sore shoulders? did you overwork your arms or something?"

you shake your head at the question, "i think i just slept weird last night, but it'll probably get better if i just give it a few days."

"well.." iwaizumi fidgets with the remote in his hand, "i could give you a massage? if you want?"

the question surprised you a bit, forgetting that your roommate was the iwaizumi hajime japanese volleyball team personal trainer. he probably knew all about the muscles in the body, and consequently also how to ease said muscles.

"you sure you know this stuff?" you tease him with a smile.

iwaizumi rolls his eyes playfully and gestures you to sit up straight as he makes his way to the back of the couch, standing behind you.

he puts his hands on your shoulders and you can't help but ease into his touch a little bit. iwaizumi, on the other hand, tries to not internally implode as he just realizes what he's gotten himself into. sure it's just a shoulder massage, but the concept of being able to make contact with you (even if its over the clothes, hand-to-shoulder), has his cheeks heating up and his forehead sweating a little.

"is it around here?" iwaizumi gently presses his thumbs to the back of your shoulders, feeling around the area and successfully locating the knots on both sides.

after you confirm with a nod, he makes his grip on your shoulders more firm and starts to rotate his thumbs in circles to ease the soreness. at first, his touch is gentle, feeling around the area and pressing experimentally to see how he should move his hands to get rid of this knot, then he gets a bit more brave and starts to press down harder with his fingers. he's kneading your shoulders at this point, focused on exactly where he feels the knots, until-

"OW! iwa not so rough!"

"Sorry!" he almost jumps out of his skin, "Sorry, I didn't realize how hard I was going."

"I'm not a professional athlete y'know," you laugh at how scared he got, "the guys on your team can probably handle it, but I'm not built like them so you don't have to be so rough on my muscles."

the red blush that was only starting to fade on iwaizumi's cheeks make their way back to his face, he chuckles at your joke and continues back to the massage, making sure to be extra gentle this time.

"I think I'm just used to working with the team all day," he smiles, "but don't worry I'll be more careful, promise."

[coffee-master]

[Lego Monkie Kid Nezha x Ao Bing]

[1/2]

Ao Bing & Nezha: *are at Macaque’s house*

Macaque: *looks at Ao Bing and notices that his lips are black*

Macaque: So, you’re turning goth or something? *looks at Nezha who is wearing a mask* And what’s with this facemask?

Ao Bing: We need your little help with glamour??

Macaque: Ok?

Ao Bing: But first of all you need to promise not to laugh or comment the thing you’re going to see.

Macaque: Bing we both know I can only focus on one of those if-

Ao Bing: Please—

Macaque rolles his eyes: ...fine-

Nezha who is clearly pissed takes off his mask: *His face is all in kisses from black lipstick*

Macaque fights with his life in order not to comment: ....

Ao Bing: In short my little gremlin sister changed her lipstick into something more permanental? *smiles nervously*

Nezha: I told you not to use her stuff.

Ao Bing: I’m sorry ok??

Nezha: And I have a meeting today!

Macaque who is inside fighting for his life: Ok, ok lovebrinds I can help you temporalily. So where to put the glamour?

Nezha: On my face obviously.

Macaque smirks: Only on face?

Nezha is fighting his urge to say something mean to Mac, because he doesn’t want to ask anyone else for help (Wukong): Only face.

Macaque: Ok, kid. *simply puts glamour on Nezha* Looks as if nothing happened.

Nezha: We need to wash it off later-

Macaque: Bing you also want so glamour on your lips?

Ao Bing: Nah, I’ll pass. Instead let’s try making me look like a real goth!

Macaque: I guess it's makeover time-

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[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Everyone can blame my discord friends for encouraging my royal AU brainrot, Prince Mariano is like seven years old here

TWs: break-ins/intruders in a child's room, a terrified child, talk of assassinations, like the child is okay physically but they ARE very very scared

Mama and Daddy said that there were never any monsters under the bed. They checked, of course, but the answer was always the same. After helping him put his hair up in a bun they'd kiss Mariano's forehead and lift him up onto his blankets. They'd tuck him in, and check one more time, and promise that there weren't any monsters to be found in his room.

The stars, dotted and crossed in magical paint on the ceiling, would keep watch. Daddy had painted them himself, he said. They had love pressed into every brush stroke. That was enough to keep any monster away.

Now, Mariano lay in his bed, eyes wide in the new-moon darkness as he was pinned under his blankets. A leather-wrapped hand he didn't know pressed his whimpers and shudders back down into his mouth. A figure he'd never seen before loomed, cloaked in darkness. Two golden rings bore down at him, the same color as the stars on his ceiling.

"Oh." The man said. "You're just a little thing, aren't you?"

Mariano tried to speak, only to be muffled by the glove. Fat tears started to roll down his face, the pat-pat-pat of them hitting his pillowcase deafening in the quiet. He struggled to take a breath in, head starting to spin.

"Shhh. It's okay." He said, an awful mimicry of how Uncle Luis would shush him whenever he dreamed about Daddy getting attacked again. "Don't scream. I don't want to hurt you." His weight was inescapable over Mariano. "But if you scream or shout, I will."

Carefully, like Mariano were a dog that might bolt away, he lifted his hand. He gasped, air flooding his chest and making him dizzier. "Are you gonna afassinate me?" He whispered. The one who hurt Daddy didn't do any of this, but Uncle Luis said that everyone did everything differently. Killing people probably fell under the umbrella of everything.

The man laughed, soft and low. He didn't unpin Mariano, the hand on his quilt feeling inescapable. The two rings disappeared for a moment before moving back and forth.

"No." He said. "They didn't say how old you were. I'm not a monster."

"What are you going to do?" Mariano whispered.

"I'm going to go make sure there's one less monster in the world." He spoke gently, kindly. He spoke like the rock-seller did during the last winter solstice festival, when Mariano had gotten separated from his parents in the crowd. The rock-seller's hands hadn't felt so scary, though. This man wouldn't hoist Mariano up onto his shoulders so he could try to spot his parents.

Mariano didn't know what this man would do.

The man reached into his pocket with his free hand, and placed a little scroll into Mariano's trembling hands. "I want you to close your eyes and count to one-hundred. Can you count that high?" Mariano nodded. "Good girl. Then after you count that high I want you to go to Mommy and Daddy and give them that."

He curled Mariano's fingers around the scroll and patted them. "Close your eyes, now." He said. "I'll be gone by the time you get to one-hundred."

Mariano did, more tears falling faster. He shuddered into a sob as the weight disappeared from his chest. "One, two," He stammered out.

He didn't hear any footsteps. He didn't hear his window close. By the time he got to the end, he still didn't dare to open his eyes. Blindly, he slid out of bed, still clutching the parchment. He wanted to scream, he wanted to sob, but he didn't want the man to hurt him.

"Your Highness?" The voice of one of the night guards made Mariano jump, a shuddering squeak escaping.

Mariano's eyes flew open, the blurry shape of one of the red-haired elves startling him out of his focus. Tears rolled down his face anew, and when he tried to speak he needed to try a few times to make his voice work. "Dame Annie," He finally managed, holding out the scroll. It was sealed with red wax, pressed with a seal that was different than what his parents used. "There was--there was a monster--there was a man in my room. I need to give this to Mama and Daddy."

"Oh." Dame Annie said, emotions flashing over her face faster than Mariano could understand. "Oh, Princess--" She hurried forward, armor clanking, and delicately scooped Mariano up into her arms. "I have you now, I have you. Let's get you to your parents, you're safe now."

Mariano clung to her, shivering like a leaf. He buried his face in her neck, letting her wrap him up in her cloak. He managing to stay quiet up until Dame Annie burst through the door of his parents chambers. He was good, he obeyed the man, right up until Mama lifted him from her arms.

The moment he smelled Mama's perfume and felt Daddy hug him tight, he burst into loud, cracking sobs. This was safe. No monsters could touch him here. Not ever.

The stars might keep him safe most nights, but no monster could ever hold a candle to Mama or Daddy.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

@bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @whumpbees @painful-pooch

[rowanisawriter]

rowanisawriter i come to you demanding writing advice! how do you you put all the words together 🥺👉👈

aw thank you for asking babe!! i don’t really have a process, i just hallucinate in the middle of the night and some of the night visions make it onto the page lol but mostly i focus on two things:

1. feelings: and this is my feeling, characters feelings, emotions but also senses, feeling loved and scared and the sun on their faces and hands and the smell of things like grass and dirt and horses and cigarette smoke. i love playing with the senses and tying it to emotion, it makes the writing feel alive and dynamic

2. symmetry: this one’s kinda hard to explain but what i mean is parallels but not jsut in theme, in the actual writing like the decisions around writing and structure. i like when a story is actually about two things and these two things are running parallel to each other like railings and all the emotion and stuff is in between these two things. i think i do this constantly and it helps keep the story on rails

an example of all this in practice is this fic i wrote recently called bruise, this guy’s first real friend leaves a literal mark on him. throughout the story, i used bruises/marks to show their friendship evolving, and their awareness of each other intensifying as they left more and more marks on each other. my style is to write little scenes instead of one full uninterrupted story usually, so having a sense or a feeling or a thing to keep coming back to makes the writing feel very connected through the scenes. in this case it was the bruises/marks/impact on each other that kept the story going until the end, when they both acknowledge the changes that each inflicts upon the other and accept it lol

anyway both of these pieces make up my stories, sometimes the symmetry is in feelings, and sometimes the feelings create a symmetry that��s pleasing to read because the end becomes very close to the beginning like in words and action and that satisfying type of parallel is nice in very short stories like what i usually write.