#these (wrong) meds are messing with me man

[abandoned-as-mustard]

who even has the energy for breakdowns anymore? shut downs are where it's at. melt into the couch and feel sorry for yourself instead. get dehydrated.

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[piplupod]

mum's so fucking messed up from her current medication cocktail, like she's genuinely high or something. she's always talked over me and interrupted me (my entire family does it and never seems to even notice they do it half the time) but yesterday it was like that was cranked up to maximum. i just gave up talking at some point in the early afternoon after she'd talked over me as if i hadnt even been speaking when we were the only two in the room together, like ten times in less than fifteen mins. it was fucking brutal.

anyways she's apparently going to be drinking during our early new years party, and that makes things so much worse in general when she's had any alcohol so I'm uhhhh terrified to see what the mix of meds and alcohol is going to do to her !!!! this is going to be Unbearable yayyyy

[moonstruckme]

It is I, person who asked about the bad car crash one. I have read the one you said! And while yes I think the car crash you described is bad I was wondering if you could do one that's... Worse-? Idk 😅 if not I totally understand lmao.

No I think I get you, thanks for requesting and hope you like it!

cw: car accident, concussion, mention of blood, I already know this is not very accurate, but I did not have it in me to do all the research when I wrote this. Sorry and hope it doesn’t hinder your reading experience </3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Your own breaths are the loudest sound, which can’t be right. Surely there should be alarms, or screaming, or something. Up until a second ago, the screeching of tires and metal was loud enough to deafen you. 

Your car door squeaks brokenly, a sad echo of the racket from before. The air around you shifts as it comes open, and a moment later there are cold fingers pressing into your jaw. 

You make a low whining sound. “Hey,” you complain. Your lips move oddly, murmuring where you mean to speak. 

“Hi,” a voice behind you replies smoothly. “I’m Sirius, I’m with NHS. Is your neck or back hurting at all, gorgeous?” 

“No. You’re cold.” 

“Lovely. This is my friend Remus, he’s going to push on your hands.” 

A head appears in front of you, upside down and shooting an exasperated look towards the disembodied voice. You don’t understand how these people are moving around so quickly, without you noticing them coming. 

“Hello.” The other man’s—Remus’—gaze softens as he meets your eyes. “Can you tell me if you feel this?” He prods at your hand. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your heart is starting to move in your chest, thudding against your ribs like it wants to hurt you. 

“Alright. Can you try pushing up on my hands, please?”

You do. He nods approvingly, giving you a little smile. 

“Good girl. We’re good, Sirius.” 

The cold hands release your face, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It makes your chest ache dully. 

“Beautiful. We ready to move?” 

“Yup.” That’s a third voice, distinct from the others and somewhere you can’t see it. “We’re all set.” 

“Let me just—” Remus’ hands come up around your waist and back, his grip firm, near to bruising. “Okay, I’ve got her. We’re going to unbuckle you and lift you out, okay? Just stay nice and still for us.” 

You’re confused as to what he means, but apparently your silence is consent enough. You feel the buckle of your seatbelt click, and then you’re falling up, Remus’ hold tightening further as he stops your ascent to lift you sideways. 

It’s not until you’re out of the car that you realize you were upside down. Your head feels better, though not by much, and the sun glares at you like it’s punishing you for a wrong you don’t remember having committed. Your arm, suddenly and to your horrified surprise, is in agony. 

A pitchy scraping sound tears from your throat, what would have been a scream if you had the air for one. 

“Here we go, just—yeah—” the third voice speaks as something comes up under your back. “There we are. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re fine.” 

“We’ll get you on pain meds in just a second, doll,” Sirius promises. Someone adjusts your legs so they’re both on the cot, careful of your searing arm, and then you’re moving, the sky shifting above you until you’re looking up at a gray ceiling instead. Time is an odd, fluid thing, marked only by actions and various pains. 

“When did you get here?” you mutter, to no one in particular. 

The third voice is the one to answer you. It’s accompanied by a thick pair of glasses and a sweet face, eyes flickering between you and some equipment he’s messing with. “Just a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t…I didn’t hear the sirens.” 

He smiles like you’re funny. “Yeah, I think you might’ve been unconscious for that part.” 

You wrack your brain. You don’t remember falling asleep. Only the screeching on the road and then being in your car. Then again, you feel half as though you could be dreaming right now. 

Something sharp bites into your hand. You whimper, the pain small but only adding to every other hurt that’s already far over your threshold. 

“I know,” Sirius shushes you, sticking something to your hand. “I know, babe, but this is going to help soon. You’ll see.” 

“So far I’ve got a concussion, open fracture of the wrist, several lacerations to the face and chest, and bruising around the knees.” Remus’ voice is an odd combination of soft and businesslike. You have a creeping sensation he’s talking about you. “Am I missing anything?” 

“Possible bruising around the chest,” Sirius says. “She was breathing funny earlier.” 

“Right. Hey, love,” Remus voice gentles as he addresses you, “I’m going to move your shirt down to see if your chest is hurt, alright? I’ll be careful, it won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” you manage weakly. 

“Thank you.” He uses both hands to stretch the collar of your shirt, tutting quietly to himself at whatever he sees. He lifts a stethoscope from around his neck, rubbing the metal on his hand for a moment before setting it to your chest. 

You don’t know what he’s listening for, but you’re distracted when the third paramedic—the one with the glasses—starts running what feels like a wet wipe over your forehead. 

“Just cleaning you up a bit,” he says brightly. “Figure we ought to have you looking your best for whoever ends up stitching you up, yeah?” 

“James.” Sirius’ tone is somewhere between chiding and joking and fond, an entanglement of meanings you quite can’t wrap your pounding head around. “Don’t talk like she’s not already stunning. You can hardly improve upon perfection.” 

“Too true,” the other boy agrees readily. 

“Take a breath in for me, please,” says Remus, seemingly ignoring the other two and seemingly also used to doing so. “Just as deep as you can.” 

You try. You do your best, and as your lungs expand the dull ache worsens and worsens until a sharp pain pierces your middle. The air whooshes out of you in a dry sob. 

The stethoscope leaves your skin, and Remus fixes your shirt collar, putting it back in place. Your chest radiates a terrible, throbbing hurt. 

“It’s okay,” James says. His finger brushes your cheek, swiping at wetness you didn’t realize was there. “Oh, honey, it’s okay.” 

“At least a couple of broken ribs,” you hear Remus mutter to the others. Somehow, impossibly, it makes the pain worsen. 

“What’s happening?” you choke out. 

“You’re in an ambulance,” James tells you kindly. “You were in a car accident, and I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but we’re here to take care of you. We’re going to make sure you’re okay, and then get you to the hospital so they can finish fixing you up. You’ll be alright.” 

The explanation takes you a while to process, but even then your tears don’t seem to want to slow. Your chest pangs with each hitch in your breathing. Eventually Sirius starts talking you through taking slower breaths, trying to calm you down. 

Someone wipes at your face with a small square. It stings, and it comes away light red with your blood and tears. 

“I know it’s scary,” Remus murmurs, “but you’ve already done so, so well. We only have to splint your arm so it doesn’t move and clean some of your bigger cuts, and then we can go to the hospital. Can you let us do that, please? Will you be okay?” 

You take in a ragged breath. “Yeah,” you reply. 

“There we are.” James takes your head between his hands. Something about his grip reassures you. He touches his lips to your forehead, like it’s natural, like it’s nothing. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Just need you to be brave for us a little while longer.”

[paymechildsupport]

Milked for Every Last Drop ~ // 🥛🐄

Francis Mosses x M!Reader // 😋🙏

HC's [NSFW]

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Holy smokes the THINGS I WANNA DO to THIS MAN--

(That glass is NOT stopping me 😂🙏🥛🤤) 

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  ‘Thinkin’ about how this man’s the biggest fucking cum slut in the whole mf complex. He’s the milkman, but most people don’t know Francis doesn’t mind being milked himself. 

After a long day of dropping off cartons of milk he’ll drag himself to your office at the lobby. As a doorman, you often don’t get home until very late at night— if you ever even make it home. Resigned, Francis has to come to you if he wants his thirst satiated. 

      He’s such a goddamn slut, whoring himself out, whimpering and fucking SQUELING as you pump his swole cock for every last drop. He whines an ungodly amount. All it takes is your strong hand wrapped around his pretty dick for Francis to be reduced to a simpering, sobbing mess. A huge crybaby too. 

Like puddy in your hands, he’d make such a mess,— you’d need to lay towels down everywhere. 

In your office, shutters down after a long winded day at work,— fingers expertly rubbing up and down your husband’s twitching cock, cum flowing as you physically have to hold him up lest he fall off the couch,— which has happened in the past,— the pathetic mutt shaking so much has done the small, old couch in your office in. 

One time you were going down, sucking sloppily at his hard-on on the office couch when all of a sudden it broke— fucking gave out like Francis’ weak legs. While you were rather amused your husband was quite mortified, intent on controlling his spasming body. 

You disliked how tense his body became during intimacy,- so much so you made sure the next time you fucked his brains out and pounded his pretty ass into the bed you made him come so hard he tore his vocal cords and felt tremors ripple throughout his entire body for the rest of the week. He never tried to deny you of his pleasurable reactions again. 

[Additional HC’s <3] 

He’d give you sloppy toppy under your desk while you work (just pray you can focus enough to not terminate the wrong person 😞) 

Loves it when you swallow his cum and kiss him immediately afterwards; like pouncing and sloppily slamming your lips to his, swirling your tongue all around, watching him come undone at the taste of himself on his tongue🙏😋

He’s lactose intolerant 

Certain men can struggle getting aroused, especially if they have a medical condition, are on certain meds, or have depression / anxiety. 1950’s and mental health being nonexistent poor darling can’t properly talk to a professional about his inner turmoils, and sometimes he struggles getting erect. No matter how much you both try, he just physically can’t. Really self conscious of it too, he feels utterly pathetic (and not in that good way). You reassure him you don’t mind, and you love him for him, as your charmingly sleep deprived milkman <3 

           *A/N: Dunno what it is but there’s something so attractive in pleasuring a man who can’t get erect— I read a Geto fanfiction on here about it and it awoke something deep within me. Really need to find that one again, it’s a gorgeous piece. 

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[chaosandmarigolds]

Could we see a "Beauty and the Beast"-style plot, where the protagonist is a sweet new doctor at the base, and Simon falls in love with her for her kindness? And everyone else at the base is just stunned by the performances she gives to her and no one else.

(I WANT TO WRITE I WANT TO WRITE IT BUT I NO HAVE TIME-)

Anyway, so this will be in the same lil format as Eek has been in- short lil segments whenever I get time to bc I HAVE PLOT and I’m just too busy to sit down and write a whole whooping 20,000 word story so instead-

As an EMT I feel qualified to write a medic (kinda sorta) but all the same, if I mess something up that’s my bad yall, I’m just dumb

Let’s begin!

-

“And any medical history I should know about?” He stared down at you, almost bewildered by the standard question you had probably been trained to ask for years. He didn’t want to have to call ems however since Johnny had been an idiot and crashed the car they didn’t get much choice, he had patiently waited with his slightly bruised arm and a cigarette. Since the accident was so close to base they had just dispatched the medic team. What he didn’t expect was you, bright eyed even thought is was early morn and your voice oh so soft.

“nothin that’s not on ma file.”

you hum to the answer and warm your stethoscope back around your neck, as the answer wasn’t exactly wrong, as you were very well accustomed with all of their fields. You nod, “I’m just gonna give you a quick little assessment, will you tell me if it hurts anywhere?”

Simon nods to that, straightening his posture as you stand, blue latex gloves feeling down his spine and quickly frisking his legs before going back to his arm. Your touch was gentle, experienced- he respected that.

“Okie dokey,” you mumbles and then kneel back down, looking at your bag and then back to the man, “I’ll give you some meds and splint when we back base. Is there anything buggin ya?”

he then nods, “Yes there is.”

to that you immediately look up from your bag, waiting for what he was going to say.

“When did you start?”

“I was transferred from New York about a week ago, it’s so pretty. Anyway! Let’s get you to the ambulance, would you like to get me the stretcher?”

“no no, Johnny need it more.”

you let out a little laugh to that comment, as it was a good joke taking how Johnny was very dramatically playing up the minor laceration on his forehead. “Perhaps so, Lieutenant, however you are my patient so you are my priority- please, how can I help you?” You smile at the end, a sweet gleam in your eyes and genuine intention shining.

If his pupils weren’t already dilated they were then, if he wasn’t already tachycardic he would be then, if he could induce psychogenic shock just to make sure you wouldn’t leave his side he might just do so. He certain…he was certain within that moment you would be the death of him.

(Um….yeah, I’m eepy, but!!! This had been brewing for so long and I felt bad so I’m so sorry!! I hope this is kinda what you were looking for! Toodles!)

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 007 (PT 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [8.9k] based on Netflix's Outer Banks Season 2 Episode 9

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, general obx warnings, discussions of sexuality, mentions of suicide

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ still love me?? not the biggest fan of this chapter but

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

PULLING UP TO THE BUNGALOW ON THE END OF THE STREET AND KILLING THE ENGINE, you and JJ were quick to jump out of the truck, calling out for his cousin, who owned the house in question.

“Ricky! Ricky!” You both shouted, helping Kiara drag Pope’s limp frame out of the backseat. The three of you helped walk Pope to the front door, JJ frantically rattling the handle and slamming his palm against the door before his cousin Ricky appeared — shirtless with a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“Hey, Ricky!” The blonde called through the window. “Look, I know you’re mad at me-”

“Remember the time you stole my ambulance?!” The dark-haired man argued through the glass, face turning red.

“Yeah, I know. I know you’re mad but - please, don’t do that!” JJ begged, watching as Ricky slammed the actual door in his face. 

The rest of you begged and pleaded, voices creating a mess of protests behind the door. JJ was quick to hand his portion of Pope’s weight off to John B, walking towards one of the windows and banging on it.

“He’s a having a reaction, he needs help!” JJ screamed through the glass. Ricky was JJ’s EMT cousin, who also happened to be the cousin who’s ambulance he’d stolen to break John B out of jail, which failed anyway. “He can’t breathe, Ricky!”

Something one of you said must’ve gained some sympathy because it wasn’t long before the front door behind the glass screen was swinging open again. “Who can’t breathe-” Ricky’s word died in his throat as he took in Pope’s swollen face this time.

“Look at him!” You cried — you, Kiara, and John B holding up your friend. “He needs help.”

“...Alright.” The man caved, pushing the screen door open to allow you all in. “Jesus Christ…” You were quick to hand off Pope, rushing into the man’s house.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Sorry.” You quickly threw in Ricky’s direction, making a b-line for the first flat surface you saw and swiping everything to the floor. Your friends were trailing behind you, using their strength to lift Pope onto the now cleared island counter top.

“You know, I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t an emergency.” JJ clarified, being the last one inside of the house.

“What’s wrong with him?” The medic asked, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel for a pulse. 

“Wasps.” Sarah and Kie replied in sync.

“Wasps?” Ricky repeated, asking for clarification. You all nodded. “Is he allergic to wasps?”

“We were kind of hoping you could figure that out for us.” You quickly replied, not wanting to be rude but wanting to speed up this procedure.

Ricky sighed, backing up from the table. “Hang tight, I gotta get my kit.”

“Hang tight?” JJ asked incredulously. “Hang tight, Ricky?!”

“It’s in here somewhere!” The older man called, disappearing near the bedrooms before re-emerging with nothing in his hands.

“Where’s your kit?!” You asked frantically — Kiara tending to Pope on the table as JJ and John B kept his legs elevated.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be looking for it-”

“What does it look like?” Sarah asked, the two of you intending to help the man look for his supplies.

“Like a duffel bag…” He offered, vanishing into his garage with his hands atop his head in distress. “Okay, I got it!” He returned after a few seconds — a navy blue med-kit clutched in his hands as he rushed towards the six of you.

He planted the bag on the counter top next to Pope, JJ scooting over to make room. “What do we do now?” The blonde boy asked.

“You don’t do anything because you’re not a paramedic. All you all can do is give me some space.” He said bluntly, the five of you backing up — similar expressions of distress etched on each of your faces. You watched as Ricky unzipped the duffel bag, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. “Here’s the thing,” He started, pushing the needle of the syringe into the vessel. “This a pediatric dose of epinephrine.”

He explained, extracting a precise amount of the medicine before removing the needle from the small glass bottle. 

“Is that gonna be enough?” You questioned, motioning for your teenage, six-foot tall friend laid out on this man’s kitchen island. “He’s not a kid.”

“It is ten times the normal dose.” Ricky informed you, holding the syringe up between his fingers. “So…if it doesn’t stop his heart, it’ll help him.” He shrugged sheepishly. “But I gotta use the whole thing, or else it won’t work. And I’m not goin’ down if he dies.” He said firmly, shooting a pointed look at his cousin.

“...Okay, fine, do it.” JJ urged, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Okay.” Ricky said, turning back to face Pope. “Okay....” He reiterated as the rest of you urged him to hurry. He seemed to mentally evaluate where to put the needle before settling on a spot on the boy’s bicep, pushing it in and injecting the dose before slowly pulling it out. “Alright, that’s it…” He said, setting the used needle down carefully.

“...Now what?” Kie asked, eyes flickering back and forth between the paramedic and her friend.

“Now, we wait.” He replied, chewing on his bottom lip. 

You all stood around and no one said anything. Not a word as all eyes remained laser focused on Pope, waiting on something. Any sign of life. The TV played mindlessly in the back, the tribe of you waiting for something to happen. All you needed was a gasp or for his chest to move, hell, you would even accept the simple twitch of one of his fingers.

But ten seconds turned to twenty and then thirty, and still…nothing.

“...You killed him.” Kiara said, staring angrily down at Pope’s swollen features. 

“No…” Ricky drawled out. “I didn’t do shit.”

“What did you do?” You asked angrily, eyes pinched as you searched Pope’s face for any sign of movement or life.

“I did exactly what you asked me to do.” JJ’s older cousin reprimanded. He was right and you all knew it. 

“Pope.” JJ said, grabbing the boy’s shirt and shaking his limp frame on the tabletop. “Pope, c’mon!” His voice raised, shaking the boy harder as you all stood back, distressed. “Come on, bro!”

A second passed and suddenly Pope was breathing in a large gasp of air, his chest rising by inches off the table before he collapsed back down, taking in steady breaths.

You all let out sighs of relief, watching as Ricky almost fell to his knees. Pope began coughing, his frame lurching off the table as he hacked, eventually springing up to sit straight on the table, his face swelling already going down.

“There he is!” JJ cheered, the rest of you laughing or sighing with relief. 

“It’s hot.” Pope wheezed out. “I’m really hot, guys…” He exasperated, the boy sliding off his patterned fleece jacket as he slid off the table, all five of you crowding around to help.

“Take it easy...” You instructed, helping the boy off the table as JJ helped him rid himself of the jacket. 

“I gotta get outside.” Pope breathed, letting his jacket fall to floor and gently pushing you all off of him as he set out for the front door, the five of you trailing behind.

“I owe you.” JJ patted his cousin on the shoulder, Ricky still standing shell shocked at the turn of events.

“It’s hot!” Pope said again, this time sounding much more irritated as he stumbled through Ricky’s front yard like a baby deer learning to walk. 

“Thank you so much.” You commended, looking back at JJ’s cousin before he closed the door. “Are there any side effects we should be concerned about?” You asked as he shut the door further and further.

“He’ll have a rocket up his ass for about half an hour.” He told you. “Then, he’ll be fine.” Was the last thing he said before closing the door, leaving you to turn around and watch your four friends chase Pope through the front yard like an unleashed puppy. 

“WHOOOO!” Pope exclaimed, hands on the steering wheel of your Ford Bronco — driving down an empty road back to Freedman’s church just as the sun set and the street lights came on.

“Pope, you’re driving kind of fast…” Kie piped up from the backseat, in between Sarah and John B. JJ was in the passenger seat while you seemed to get booted to the trunk of your own car.

“Pope…” JJ started. “Last to judge, but I think you should slow down a little-”

“No.” He cut off the blonde. “That would definitely delay our arrival to the cross. We gotta get there.”

“Okay,” You piped up, shoving your face in between Kie and Sarah in the back seat. “As the primary driver and sole owner of this car, I’m saying you need to lighten up on the gas pedal, bud.” You advised from the trunk, wind whipping through your hair. “Why did we let him drive again?” You questioned. “And why is JJ in the passenger seat instead of me?”

“Because I said I’d rip your ears off.” Pope replied in a single breath.

“And because I fixed this piece of shit on wheels-”

“You call my car a piece of shit on wheels one more time and I’ll rip your ears off-” You warned, squinting at the blonde through the rearview mirror.

“Okayyyy,” JB spoke for the first time in minutes, interrupting the small dispute. “Pope, how’re you feeling?”

“Great.” The curly-haired boy smiled, continuing down the road at a constant, life-threatening speed. “I don’t know what JJ’s cousin gave me but I am movin’!” He exclaimed, taking one hand off the steering wheel to make a speeding motion with his free hand.

“We couldn’t tell...” Kiara smiled awkwardly, buckling her seatbelt.

“Okay, well, um, you’re going really fast right now.” John B tried to parent, leaning over the shoulder of Pope’s seat from where he sat directly behind him.

“Yeah, really fast!” Pope laughed, craning his neck to look back as he drove, the car swerving wildly between the two lanes.

“Woah!”

“Pope!”

You all panicked, grabbing whatever you could as the car continued to basically drive itself until Pope refocused his sights in front of him, speeding up the car to miles you didn’t know it had the capability of going. 

“God, is he driving slow…” Pope sighed, attempting to pass the car in front of you all by swerving into the wrong lane, paying no mind to the car coming straight at him. 

“You don’t need to pass-” Kie tried, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“Pope, if you crash my car-” You warned, gripping the edge of the backseat for stability as you slid around in the trunk.

“You don’t need to pass!” Kiara continued as the other car swerved into the grass just as Pope swerved into the correct lane, now in front of the car you were previously behind.

“Man, what an asshole. Am I right?” The boy in the driver’s seat scoffed.

“He was going the speed limit...” You huffed, straightening yourself out.

“We’re not gonna get to the cross if we’re dead, Pope!” JJ exclaimed from the passenger seat, holding onto the safety bar. The tires of your car screeched over the road, your headlights not focusing on one single thing for more than a second.

“We’re not gonna die. It’s our divine right to get that cross.” Pope dismissed, looking back as he spoke, the car swiftly making a sharp left.

“Pope, look at the road!” You screamed, watching helplessly as your car drove into the left lane before nose diving into the woods. Pope tried to make an attempt at turning the car which only made things worse, the side of the car slamming hard into one of the six-inch wide Oak Trees as the airbags deployed and your frame went flying over the side of the trunk, tumbling through the grass. The windshield shattered, leaving glass littered throughout the vehicle as you heard your friends groan in pain, the hiss of whatever was damaged under the hood sounding out in the woods.

You held your ribs in pain, rolling over a sizeable rock on your way down. 

“Y/N!” You could hear your name being called in the distance, the sound of glass crunching, your friends coughing, and one of the car doors closing ringing in your ears. The voice called out for you again just as you’d found the strength to roll over on your stomach and push yourself up onto your knees.

“I’m over here!” You rasped, coughing. 

It wasn’t long before the familiar sound of JJ’s heavy combat boots were heard crunching over branches and leaves, a warm hand finding home on your back as the other slid under your stomach, helping you stand. “Hey, you okay?” The blonde asked, turning your frame to face him as your hands grabbed his forearms.

“Perfectly fine.” You strained, stretching out your back a bit as the boy brushed hair and leaves from your face. “Are you okay?” You asked, your eyes finally zeroing in on him to find a small cut on one of his eyebrows as well as some red-splotching on his cheeks and forehead, most likely from the airbag.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He assured when your own hand reached up to brush your finger against the small cut, one of his hands ceasing yours.

“Is everyone alright?” John B weak voice echoed out into the woods, both you and JJ turning to watch as your friends all climbed out of the vehicle before making your way towards them.

“I think so…” Sarah replied.

“That is the last time you drive, Pope.” JJ reprimanded.

“Look at my truck...” You pouted, examining the destroyed windshield and the odd ways it was bent, not ignoring the steam emitting from the hood.

“One word.” JJ spoke. “Totaled.” He cringed. “Yeah, I don’t think I can fix it this time, princess.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way.” Pope ignored the damaged vehicle.

You all shared a look of confusion and bewilderment.

“...Dude-” Sarah tried, watching as Pope tried to walk away, shoulder brushing against JB’s.

“I’m going to get my cross.” He stated.

“Hey,” John B piped up, gripping Pope's arm to stop him. “Just relax for a second.”

“Get off of me.” Pope said, snatching his arm away. 

“No-”

“Move.”

“I am trying to help-”

“I am getting my cross.”

“You just crashed her car.” John B said as Pope managed to finally brush past him, walking aimlessly down the road as John B caught up. John B tried his best to restrain the boy once more, but Pope continued to brush him off, time and time again. “You’re gonna get hit by a car!” John B reprimanded, the sight of a huge semi-truck coming down the road going ignored by Pope, who was hell-bent on getting his family heirloom.

“Get off of me!” Pope yelled.

“Stop!” John B yelled back, Pope’s struggle suddenly ending when the truck passed, his dark-brown eyes stuck on whoever was in the vehicle. His eyes never left the vehicle and when it got far enough away from him and close enough to the rest of you, it only prompted the four of you standing behind to see what he was looking at...

Rafe and Renfield, Limbrey’s body guard, making direct eye contact with the six of you. Rafe was driving, a sick grin on his face as Renfield offered you all a salute. 

The six of you watched as the semi-truck continued down the road, standing by as it got smaller and smaller. But if they were driving back the way you all were coming, then…

“No…” You sighed, face and shoulders falling.

“...We gotta get back to the church!” Pope screamed, all of you looking at him. “Now!” He ordered one last time before he took off running down the road, the rest of you following.

YOU ALL WERE TOO LATE. And the cross was gone. Arriving at the church and seeing the cross no longer splayed out on the wooden floors was the biggest loss of the day. And no one said anything as you all piled into Kiara’s, freshly stolen, SUV — the only operable vehicle left amongst the group with The Twinkie being parked at Ricky’s which was too far at the moment and your car being completely totaled. 

If she got it back in time, he parents wouldn’t even notice it was gone.

“Oh, shit.” She cursed, slowing down as rapid flashing blue lights filled the car. “They found your truck.” She said, looking at you — you, JJ, JB, and Sarah squeezed into the backseat.

You all said nothing, watching as Shoupe approached the vehicle, flashlight in hand. 

“Good Evening, officer.” Kiara greeted, the driver’s side window already being rolled down.

“Sheriff.” Shoupe corrected.

“Sheriff. Yeah...”

“...Speed kills, huh?” John B spoke from the backseat, you nudging him in the ribs as he let out a soft ‘ouch’.

Shoupe just eyed each of you individually before speaking. “I pulled the tags.” He said, dragging out the sentence. “I know whose truck that is.” He said bluntly, eyes landing sharply on you and you cringed and offered a small wave.

“Sheriff…” Pope started from the passenger seat. “I just wanna say that this is all my fault. She had nothing to do with this. I take one-hundred percent responsibility.”

“Nothing to do with it, huh?” Shoupe pondered. “...The car’s in your possession kid. I have no choice but to take you home.”

Your face twisted at that. “...Uh, in case you forgot, I don’t really have one of those, so…”

“You do now.” He replied. “The Carrera’s,” He emphasized, eyes drifting towards Kiara whose attention was grabbed by the mention of her parents. “...Have ever-so generously opened their home to you. DCS went through your file and saw they were listed as your Godparents and they agreed to foster you. Right after they mentioned that their car was gone and the keys were missing. “

Well, that was quick. 

“I’m takin’ you home. The both of you.” He said firmly. “Or I can take you all in for leavin’ the scene of an accident.”

You and Kiara shared a look before silently agreeing with another and turning to Shoupe. “...Okay.” You both said simultaneously.

“Good.” The sheriff nodded. “Plumb?” He directed the female officer to remove you and Kie from the vehicle — the woman opening the driver’s side and back door. Kie exited the vehicle, looking down as she shut the door.

You spared your friends a glance before climbing over JJ’s lap to exit the car, one of the blonde’s hand finding a place on your waist, pausing your movements. Your eyes shot up to his and you held yourself up above him in the cramped space.

He didn’t say anything, just bored his sad, blue eyes into yours. You frowned pitifully and placed a soft hand on his cheek. “I’ll call you. Okay?” You said, tone hushed. He just sighed, eyes racing back and forth before caving in, nodding sadly. You nodded in a silent reply, leaving him with a soft kiss before climbing fully out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you.

“Come on,” Shoupe instructed you and Kie. “Let’s get y’all home.”

ARRIVING OUTSIDE OF THE CARRERA RESIDENCE FELT ODD. Or maybe it was being back on Figure Eight that felt the oddest. Or maybe it was the whole thing.

In the middle of the night, pulling up to Kiara’s home in the back of a squad car as Deputy Plumb parked the SUV in the drive way and Shoupe let you and Kie out of the backseat of his patrol car. You wondered if the rest of your friends made it back to The Twinkie by now — the absence of the SUV leaving them with no other choice but to walk back to JJ’s cousin’s house and get it.

You and Kiara watched in silence as the headlights on her parents vehicle went dead, Plumb exiting the vehicle and walking over to drop the keys into the girl’s palm and walk off, getting into the passenger seat of the squad car.

“Well,” Shoupe exasperated, hands on his utility belt as he moved to stand in front of the two of you. “Y’all gon’ inside, now. ‘S gettin’ late.” He said, nodding his head once. “Stay safe.” Were his parting words as he walked away, shoes scuffling against the concrete and he rounded the squad car, got into the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving you and a nervous Kie alone in her driveway.

The girl stared up at the house, shaking one leg and taking a deep breath. “Look, before we go inside…” She started, eyes on you. “My parents are probably gonna be super intense. I know it’s been a while since you’ve really seen them…so, I’m just warning you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the house before looking back at her. “Can’t be any worse than my previous living situation.”

Kie just scoffed lightheartedly. “Trust me.” She said, shaking her head. “You have no idea…”

Just then, a creaking sound in the distance grabbed both of your attention — heads whipping up to find Mr. and Mrs. Carrera standing in the doorway of the front door, both of their arms crossed over their chests as they stared down the daughter.

“It’s time for you two to come inside.” Her mother said bluntly, offering no other words. You and Kie spared each other one last glance before walking up the length of the driveway, up the small staircase to the front door before stopping in front of her parents.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Mr. Carrera greeted from behind his wife to which you nodded awkwardly.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” You replied simply as the man stepped to the side, making room for you and Kie to enter the house. Kie went first, not even a foot into the door before her mother’s voice stopped her.

“Nuh-uh.” She said, holding a palm out but still not looking at Kiara herself. “The keys.” She prompted, curling her hand in on itself. Kiara complied quickly, dropping the ring of metal into her mother’s hand and proceeding to enter the house, you right behind her.

You can’t remember the last time you’d been inside. Even when you lived on Figure Eight, most of your time was spent at home or at Sarah’s. 

“Take a seat.” Her mother directed the both of you, the front door closing as she motioned for the couch in the living just feet away. You and Kiara did as you were told, walking over and taking a seat on the couch — her parents coming over and standing on the other side of the coffee table, right in front of the two of you. “There are two very important discussions to be had here.” Mrs.Carrera started, clapping her hands together. “Starting with you.” She said, pointing at her daughter.

“What you did tonight was…beyond unacceptable.” She began, hands moving wildly and blinking rapidly as she spoke. “Stealing the car?”

“I was bringing it back-” Kiara tried, voice small.

“It doesn’t matter, Kiara!” Her mother exclaimed, scoffing unbelievably and shaking her head. “Here you are, once again, making these stupid decisions against us, your parents, for some boys-”

“They're not some boys, they're my friends. Why can't you understand that-”

“Listen to your mother.” Her father cut in, fishing in his back pocket before pulling out what looked like pamphlet, letting it fall to the table.

Kiara’s eyes went between the paper and her father before picking it up — the words ‘KITTY HAWK’ etched into the front. “...What is this?” She asked, twirling the object in her hands.

“That’s your future, Kiara, if you don’t turn your shit around.” Her father said, pulling his lips into a thin line. 

“You’re joking, right?” She asked, voice wavering. “This is like one of those places where they kidnap kids in the middle of the night. Do you know how many kids die in these places? O-or kill themselves?-”

“No, it’s a program for troubled teens with behavioral problems.” Her mother inserted herself, hands on her hips.

“...So, now I’m a troubled teen?”

“What the hell would you call it?” Her dad asked, face twisting. “You disappear for days, Kiara, and then when you do come back to the house, it’s to steal my truck.”

“...I thought my friends were dead.” Kie spat, the room falling silent. “And you guys just wanted me to go back to school like nothing happened-”

“That’s not what we wanted.”

“-Like everything was fine, nothing about that is fine!”

“Nothing about any of this is fine.”

“I’ll do whatever you want!” Kiara pleaded. “Okay, I’ll pull double shifts or whatever. But I don’t want you guys to think I was wrong to help them. Because I wasn’t. I was doing what I thought was right. And I didn’t mean to do all of that to you guys…And I’m sorry.” She explained, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry for sneaking out and skipping school. It was stupid and I…I’m sorry for going to Charleston. I’m sorry for stealing your truck. I-”

“Baby…” Her mother stopped her rambling, rounding the coffee table to crouch in front of her daughter, taking her hands in her own. “I know. Okay, I know.” She reassured. “We love you so much.” She told the girl before shaking her head. “...But sorry is not gonna cut it anymore.”

Kie’s face fell at her words, eyes drifting towards her father who stood firm in his spot — arms crossed over his chest. “Let me tell you what’s gonna happen.” He started. “No more sneaking out of the house, no more treasure hunts, and no more Pogues. Or you’re going to Kitty Hawk.” He said with finality before his eyes landed on you. “And Y/N, I know you just got here so this may be a lot, but these rules go for you, as well.”

“Yes.” Mrs.Carrera nodded, standing from where she was comforting her daughter to rejoin her husband. “We’ve cleared out a room for you upstairs, you’ll have your own bathroom as well. You’re welcome to work with us at The Wreck but that is completely up to you. Shoupe told us about your car when he got to the scene and if you’re okay with it, we’ll pay for you to get it fixed. Anything you need, you can ask us, don’t be afraid. We only ask that you just respect us, our home, and our rules.”

You understood their rules and expectations but you wondered if that was the only rule that went for you…What if you continuously broke them under their care? Would Kitty Hawk be held over your head, too?

“I completely understand and I appreciate it so much.” You said, trying to offer a polite smile. “Thank you for taking me in and I’ll do my best to help out at The Wreck.” You assured them. “But... I do have my dog, Marley, if you remember her. She’s at John B’s house…along with the rest of my stuff.”

The Carrera’s shared a look, seeming to have a silent conversation before turning back to you and Kie. 

“We’ll take you.”

“FIFTEEN MINUTES. ANY LONGER AND WE’RE COMING TO GET YOU TWO.” Mr.Carrera said from the driver’s seat of his SUV. 

“We got it, Dad.” Kiara sighed, opening her door and getting out, you following shortly after.

The gravel crunched under your sneakers, the porch light being the only source of light in the dark of night. You didn’t wait to make your way up the small staircase and to the front door, it already being unlocked due to John B’s lack in one’s basic sense of security. 

Walking in, you were immediately graced with Marley’s presence — not having seen the animal in hours. You bent down, scratching the top of her head before looking back at Kie. “I don’t have much.” You said. “I shouldn’t be long.” You assured, standing up to your full height and walking into the guest room of The Chateau where you kept most of your belongings — that were mixed in with JJ’s.

“It’s fine.” Kie shrugged, the girl waiting in the living room with her hands in her back pockets. “Even if you do, they’ll just blame me like they do with everything…” You didn’t say anything, just continued gathering your things — throwing them into your heavy-duty backpack and zipping up the bag, throwing it over your shoulder as you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, picking up Marley’s bowls, toys, and food. “...Can I ask you something?” Kiara said, voice small.

You sat your backpack on the kitchen table, eyeing the Carrera girl as she fiddled with her fingers. “You can ask me anything.” You laughed, a slight look of confusion on your face.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, eyes pinching together like the question brought her physical pain. “‘Cause, you know, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. After what I did…”

“Kie.” You started, pausing in your movements and letting your hands fall to your sides. “I know we haven’t been the best of friends lately, or, friends at all…But I could never hate you.”

She simply scoffed, running her fingers through her hair. “You say that now…”

“Because it’s true. We’ll always be friends, even if-”

“That.” She spat, laughing, but you could tell there was no real humor there. “That is my problem. And I don’t know how you can’t see it.” She said, shaking her head as her sad eyes met yours. “Can you not see how much…pain being your friend is causing me? And I know it’s not your fault, I know that-”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, mildly offended. “Being my friend is causing you pain?” You asked her, eyes wide in disbelief. “Kie, you kissed my boyfriend while you were with Pope. And you expect me to act like nothing happened? What about Pope? Have you even apologized to him?” You reprimanded.

“You-”

 “I got kidnapped and drugged and all of sudden you have, what, some kind of epiphany about our friendship? Because up until then you were treating me like shit.”

“That’s not why I-”

“Then explain it to me-”

“I can’t!” She yelled, cheeks taking on a shade of red. “...Okay? I’m trying, I have been trying but I can’t. It’s like the words don’t match up or…or nothing checks out. None of it makes any sense.” She rambled, pulling her fingers as she paced on the spot. “It’s so much more complicated than you think and I feel like I should tell you but I could be ruining everything-”

“Just try.” You sighed, shoulders falling. “It’s just us here. We have a little over ten minutes before your parents come marching in. I won’t say a word.” You told her. “I promise, I’ll let you speak and I’ll listen. I just want to understand. I want to understand where our friendship went wrong.” You pleaded. “I miss you, Kie. But somewhere in this mess of what our lives have become, you and I fell apart and I can’t figure out why…”

“...I saw you.” She struggled out, failing to maintain eye contact as she spoke. “During John B’s memorial, I saw JJ kiss you.” She said. “And…I felt this, this pang of jealousy. And at first, I thought it was because things weren’t going great with Pope. But at some point, I realized it wasn’t that. So, I jumped to the next reasonable conclusion — that I liked JJ.” She sighed. “Seeing the way he looked at you, I thought maybe I wanted him to look at me like that. Y’know, maybe I had feelings for him and was just realizing it. That’s why I kissed him in Charleston.” She explained sadly, eyes finally meeting yours.

“It was a shitty thing, I know.” She scolded herself, hands waving wildly. “Kissing him to figure out my feelings while you two had something going on wasn’t cool, I know that. I hate myself for it. Because it was pointless.” She swallowed. “...I didn’t…feel anything. I kissed him and I felt nothing. And it didn’t hurt my feelings when he pushed me away and told me he didn’t see me that way. And I was so angry at myself but confused, too…” She said, almost like she was working out her thoughts as they left her lips. “Because if I didn’t like JJ, then why couldn’t I stomach the sight of you two together?” 

You listened as she spoke and you were glad you were finally getting her side, truly. But the direction this was going…

“...And then, seeing you in Barry’s trailer. That’s when everything fell into place.” She said, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “Seeing you like that made my entire world stop. I wanted to be the one to scoop you up and hold you and tell you everything would be okay. And my heart shattered when I realized that I couldn’t, not in the way I wanted to.” She confessed, taking one weary step in your direction. “I know it’s a weird way to come to a conclusion like that, but…I think that’s when I realized I wasn’t in love with Pope or JJ.” She said, shaking her head. “...I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened or how or…why…” She confessed, voice wavering.

“And I’m sorry.” She cried, wiping her eyes. “For being such a bitch and ruining our friendship over something so stupid. Because I know that it’s too late and even if it wasn’t, even if you weren’t with JJ — you and me would never be anything. And the thought kills me every time.” You didn’t know what to say, standing completely still and listening to her talk. Although, you weren’t sure if you were listening. 

Your longest best friend was standing less than a foot in front of you, telling you how she was in love with you. 

“So, if you hate me, I understand, okay?” She cried harder, pressing her hands into her eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” You finally spoke, voice flat and small as you made no move to comfort her. You didn’t know how. Would a hug make it worse? Would the touch of your hands on her skin make things better or worse? “Kie, I-” You stuttered to find a response. “I don’t know what to say…or do. Do you want a hug or…?”

There was no right way to go about this, you realized. You’d caused each other so much pain over the last few weeks — knowingly or unknowingly, justified or unjustified, it was all the same.

The brown-haired girl just shook her head, wiping her eyes clean. When she made eye contact with you, her eyes were red and slightly puffy as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, please, don’t.” She requested, voice breaking. “It’s my fault.”

Your face fell at her words, taking a single step in the girl’s direction. “Don’t say that.” You said softly. “You did some shitty things, for sure.” You laughed lightheartedly. “But…you can’t control how you feel. You can’t dictate who you love…”

You words only made her face twist further in sadness. “...I never wanted to hurt you.” She sighed sadly, eyes filling with tears once again. You simply gave her a tight-lipped smile of pity, gently taking one of her hands in your own.

“Neither did I.” You assured, your own voice wavering when the loud honking of a horn came from outside — the both of you jumping at the loud noise.

“Guess our time’s up…” Kiara spoke, avoiding your eyes once more as she let her hand fall from yours as she turned towards the door. You nodded to yourself, taking a breath and grabbing your bag from the table and securing it before throwing it over your shoulder once more, whistling for Marley who met you swiftly at the command.

Kiara opened the door, the Golden Retriever bolting out of the house and to the SUV, wagging her tail as she waited for you to open the door. You walked out of the door silently as Kie held it open, letting it close behind herself as you both walked back to the car, shoes crunching once more as you swiftly turned to face your friend, stopping her in her tracks.

“I…” You stuttered. You didn’t know what you wanted to say or planned to say. But you felt like you should say something. But no words would come out. 

Kie just offered you a sad smile, patting your shoulder. “It’s okay.” She said to you. “I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am.” She spoke, voice low seeing as you standing right next to the vehicle with her parents inside. “You’ve been through so much and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. And JJ is that person, not me. I can see it your eyes and his — you’re meant for each other. And one day, I’ll be fine with that.” She said, not waiting for you to speak as she went around the other side of the car, getting in.

You stood in silent contemplation for a few moments before snapping back to reality — opening your door for Marley to jump in as you threw your bag to the floor and jumped in, shutting the door as Mr.Carrera drove off, the radio playing lowly.

When did your life become such a mess?

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND YOU WERE LISTENING TO MUSIC AS YOU STRAIGHTENED OUT YOUR BED SHEETS. You’ll admit, it was nice to have your own room again and have some normality as a teenage girl. 

Some…

You and Kie hadn’t said more than two words to each other since last night — those two words being ‘good morning’ as you awkwardly passed each other on the way out of your rooms and downstairs to join the Carreras for breakfast. 

The meal was awkward but mildly comforting. It was nice to feel part of a family again, even if deep down something was telling you this picture-perfect act wouldn’t last long. 

You heard Mr. and Mrs.Carrera loud and clear — break their rules and it’s Camp for Cuckoos. 

After breakfast, you’d freshened up and started to put your room together. Mrs.Carrera had generously gone and bought you a bed set, some new clothes, and even some small decorations to make the place feel less empty. She even went as far as to buy Marley, who was sunbathing in the middle of your floor, a new, much less worn and tattered, bed that was sitting in the corner of your newly furnished space.

Even if it was only temporary, you figured you could get used to this. It was still in the early hours of the morning as you played interior decorator — your music pausing on your bluetooth speaker as a call came through.

Picking up the device, a smile spread on your face from ear to ear as you answered. “Hi, Blondie.”

“Good mornin’ to you, princess.” JJ’s voice broke through the other end. “You sound wide awake. That’s a first.” He said, the sound of wind whipping by coming from his end.

“And you don’t sound like you’re home.” You pointed out skeptically.

“I’m never home.”

‘Y’know what I mean…” You pressed, sitting on your bed and rubbing your hand over the soft blanket. 

“I’m with Bree, right now and we, uh, may need a little assistance, if you will.” He told you, voice sounding nervous even through the device.

“...What’s wrong now?” You asked.

“Well, uh, Rafe’s got the cross and Pope latched onto the back of his truck and went God knows where and Rose has Sarah and she’s taking her to some loading dock.” JJ explained quickly, hearing both boys curse as John B took a sharp turn, you assumed. “So, the two of us can’t really do this by ourselves but John B here is determined.”

You bit your lip in contemplation — breaking the rules on day one?

...Seemed pretty on brand.

“I’ll be there soon.” You assured before hanging up the phone. You stood in thought for a few moments, opening the Find My app on your phone to see how far your two friends were, trying to mentally decipher whether you could get away with just sneaking out or if you’d have to sneak out and sneak your car keys which were sitting on the counter downstairs…where Kie’s parents were.

A quick request from your location to JJ’s told you that without your car, the estimated distance would jump from a forty-five minute drive to a three-hour walk. You sighed and peeked out of your window. To your surprise, the Carrera’s SUV was gone, leaving only your freshly fixed Ford in the drive way, looking cleaner than ever.

A small smile of relief spread on your face as you quickly exited your room, skipping down the steps and heading for the kitchen only to find Mike and Anna downstairs — Mr. Carrera testing new recipes to add to the menu down at The Wreck while Mrs. Carrera cleaned up the dishes he left behind.

Both of the adults turned to you at the sound of your feet skidding to a stop. 

“Good morning, again, Y/N.” Mrs. Anna smiled at you, dropping dishes into the sink. “Are we in your way? Did you need something?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish until you settled on a smile. “No, just…came down for a snack.” You lied, both of them sending you a polite smile in return as they returned to paying you no mind. Eyeing the arrangement of small chip bags conveniently placed next to the dish that held all the keys, you padded across the kitchen, noisily grabbing one of the bags to mask the jingling of the keys before shoving the metal in your pocket and heading upstairs.

Your face twisted as you ascended the staircase — if the Carrera’s were downstairs, where was their car?

Allowing your intuition to guide you, you skipped the door to your room to stand in front of Kie. A twist of the knob and a push of the door told you that the brown-haired girl who wasn’t occupying her room was responsible for the missing vehicle outside. You wondered where she went before remembering you had her location as well.

Closing her door softly, you pulled your phone out once more to see that she was driving in the middle of the woods. How long had she been gone and where was she going? Pinching your fingers to zoom out, you could see she was closer to Pope than any of you, that realization answering your question.

With the turn of events this morning was taking, you wouldn’t be in this nice house much longer before you and Kie were being shipped off to Kitty Hawk.

Entering your room, you closed the door gently and threw the bag of chips on your bed. Trotting over to the window, you lifted the glass and screen — the familiar North Carolina breeze hitting you as you did. You looked back at the bedroom door one last time, feeling bad for having to ruin something good. But these were your friends. Your family. Helping them wasn’t a question.

Tiptoeing onto the roof and closing the window, you quietly made your way down to the driveway — getting into the driver’s seat and quickly driving off.

“WHAT IS THAT?” You could hear John B’s hushed voice as you got closer to the sound you were emitting. “Dude! Turn that off! Why are you ringing?” He reprimanded his blonde friend as you approached the two of them from behind from where they were hiding behind a family of crates and boxes.

“It’s Y/N, I don’t know why she’s pinging me-”

“Hi.” you said quietly, standing in between your two best friends as they jumped at the sound of your voice. You tapped the button on your phone to stop JJ’s from making noise.

“Jesus!” JJ whisper-yelled, both boys sighing as they looked at you.

“You should find a better way to announce yourself when we’re on important missions.” John B told you, steading himself.

“Well, having your location doesn’t really help when your in a junky ass shipyard.” You sassed, shooting a grimace at the boy which he returned in full.

“We said the pinging was for emergencies only.” JJ told you, putting his phone on silent and shooting you a playful glare.

“It was!” You said, hushed. “I couldn’t find you and I had to hop the fence. What is this? A private dock?.”

“Guys,” John B grabbed your attention. “I think that’s their ship.” He said, pointing at the large boat the dock members were anchoring.

“Wait,” JJ started. “The Coastal Venture…” He thought to himself. “Dude, I know that ship. My dad did legs on her last summer, it’s a total tramp steamer. I worked on her in port…”

“There’s the cross.” You added, referring to the wooden crate being lifted with a pullet system — what look like Rafe with two unknown men standing and watching as they pulled it up.

“God, I hate that guy…” John B whispered as he eyed Rafe from afar. You couldn’t agree more. “There she is.” He piped up, eyes drifting to the side — Rose and Wheezie walking behind Sarah, who was being escorted roughly towards the ship. “Guys, we gotta come up with a plan.” John B urged to the two of you.

“I know.” JJ said. “We’re working on it.” He continued as your eyes scanned the ship, thinking of possibilities.

“Hey,” You cut in. “If we can get over that barge, we can go over. We’ll have to get in the water, though.” 

“Then we’re gonna be sitting ducks-”

“Howdy.” Kie’s voice startled the trio of you, her and Pope’s footsteps coming to a stop as they appeared behind you three.

“Whoa!” JJ exclaimed, whipping around before realizing it was just his two friends. “I was about to stab your eyes out…How’d you guys even find us?”

“Geo-located your phone.” She said simply. You made brief eye contact with the girl before you both looked away, the action not going unnoticed by your observant boyfriend but he seemed to settle on saying nothing.

“Yo, Pope. You okay?” John B asked, a hand on the boy’s shoulder as you all looked at him — covered in dried mud and dirt and specks of blood. “What happened?”

“Rafe, round three.” Pope whispered, voice raspy.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Again?” JJ said angrily.

“This was a tie.” Pope told the blonde, calming his boiling rage. “Is that the cross?” He asked, eyes on the wooden crate across the shipyard. He sounded so focused and determined.

“Yeah…” You answered, sighing. “And they’re holding Sarah hostage.”

“We gotta get on that boat.” Kie worried, hand on her forehead.

“First, we gotta get past the Goon Squad.” JJ pointed out a crowd of workers and guards that would surely kick you all out.

“We gotta move.” John B urged, the four of you walking forward before he looked back and saw that Pope was going the opposite direction. “Pope, what’re you doing?”

“I have an idea.” He held out a cautious palm. “Just trust me.”

“No-”

“Trust me and go.” Pope called, walking away. “I’ll meet up with you guys.” He said before disappearing. But something was screaming at you to follow him, to not leave him alone. So, in the middle of your running, you quickly turned and headed the opposite way.

“Hey!” JJ called, eyeing you wildly. “Where are you goin’?” 

“To help Pope.” You told him, never faltering in your steps. “He’s not thinking straight and it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone. Just go, okay? We’ll meet up with you guys.” You urged him before turning away and following Pope’s trail.

You arrived to the boy just in time to find him unscrewing the tops to a family of propane tanks. “Pope.” You whispered, creeping up to him to avoid being seen. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Creating a distraction.” He told you bluntly, stepping away once at least three of the tanks were hissing — the gas being released as he stood back, pulling a gun from his pocket. 

“Jesus-!” Your eyes went wide, immediately stepping forward and grabbing the weapon from his hands. “I’m not going to ask questions about how or why…” You said, referring to the gun as you pushed him back with a firm hand on his chest. “But, Pope, you’re already caked in dirt and shit.” You pointed out. “...But, you are the brains of this shit so if you think causing an explosion will help us get on that boat, then fine. But you’re not getting whiplash after fighting.”

Turning away from the boy, you cocked the gun back — aiming it directly at the tanks.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, Pope.” You breathed, glancing back at him quickly. “We’re gonna get your cross.” You assured before refocusing your sights and pulling the trigger, barely having time to register your actions before you were blown back by the explosion, you and Pope landing on your backs as smoke filled your airways.

“Oh, shit…” You coughed, pushing yourself up as you heard a marching band of feet coming your way. “Pope, c’mon, we gotta go.” You urged, helping the boy up as you both ran from the scene and to your friends.

You both fell to a stop in front of the three of them, breathing heavily as you dropped the gun to the ground.

“What did you do?” JJ asked, worried, crouching down in front of you and brushing hair out of your face.

You just coughed before laughing and tapping the brim of his hat. “We were playing with guns.” You smiled, one last cough leaving your lungs as the blonde rolled his eyes and helped you up, fighting the smile growing on his face.

“You’re a dork.” He scoffed, placing a small kiss on your lips.

“Pope, what was that?” John B asked, helping up his friend. 

Pope just ignored his question, pointing to The Coastal Venture. “Look. That’s container’s going on the ship. We can get in that way.” He told the five of you — John B wasting no time in charging for where Pope had pointed, the rest of you following.

Pope leaped into the back of the shipping container without hesitation, JJ being the first to speak up. “Hold up,” He urged, looking up at the curly-haired boy in the container. “Did you think this through?”

Pope didn’t even seem to think before answering, tone blunt and short. “Yes. This is the plan.”

“That’s a trap right there. You see that right?” JJ asked, pointing to the other shipping boxes. “We can’t get out once we get in-” The blonde panicked, John B stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He started, looking JJ in his eyes. “You guys don’t have to come, alright?” He offered, briefly glancing at you and Kie as well. 

“Right.” Pope agreed, nodding his head at the three of you. “This is our fight.” He told you all — referring to himself and John B.

You, Kiara, and JJ shared a weary glance before JJ tossed his hands out and tilted his head, eyes on yours. “P4L?”

You glanced nervously inside the dark, tight space, cringing — were you claustrophobic? Because that’s what it felt like. Looking back at JJ, a groan rose from your throat. “P4L…” You exhausted, turning and sticking your hand up for Pope to help you up into the container — followed shortly by JJ, then Kie, then John B.

“Guess it’s better than boarding school…” Kie pondered, pulling her lips into a thin line.

The five of you bolted to the back of the container, crouching hiding behind the contents of the space. You and your friends watched, holding your breath, as a man came by and swiftly inspected the container with a flashlight before seemingly deciding nothing was amiss.

“Okay, she’s good to go. Lock her up.” He patted his hand against the metal.

Your breath shuddered as the men sealed the space shut, leaving you all with dim light and humid oxygen. Metal clanked and engines revved as you felt the container begin to sway — you were being lifted onto the ship. It was such an odd feeling, so much so it made your stomach turn in the oddest of ways — JJ taking notice and intertwining your fingers with his.

You shot the blonde an appreciative smile before looking straight ahead to calm yourself. 

The five of you groaned as your heads and backs hit the walls of the container as it touched down, letting out breaths of relief.

There was no telling how this was going to play out or end, for that matter.

But hey, P4L, right?

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[whillywisp]

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Jay Halstead x Reader Oneshot

Synopsis: Jay and reader are together, and reader works at Med in ED with Will. Reader has a lot of anxiety because Jay is a cop, thinking every cop that is brought in may be Jay.

TW: anxiety/panic attacks is a main theme in this, also some mention of blood and doctor-y stuff because reader works at Med in ED

Requested by: @sorry-i-spaced

Thank you so much! This was fun to write!

Any other oneshot requests, please DM me! :)

“We got a Stevenson!” A paramedic called out as they rolled into the ED. You and several other doctors sprung into action, running toward where the paramedics were coming in. ‘Stevenson’ was the code name for a cop, to let Med know who it was, no matter if they were in uniform, plainclothes, or undercover.

“(Y/N)! Rhodes! Trauma three!” Maggie’s voice called from the desk. Working in the ED was no walk in the park, especially in the middle of Chicago. You made your way quickly to where Maggie pointed you, picking up the pace as they wheeled in a man who was surrounded by cops. You pushed through the crowd and into the room, seeing the man on the gurney with three bullet holes in him. You helped get him moved over, then assessed the damage, Dr. Rhodes right behind you to help.

“Three bullet wounds, center mass. I’m assuming this is the perpetrator, not our Stevenson?” You spoke out loud. Some of the officers outside the room confirmed your thoughts.

Your heart was already pumping from the adrenaline as you worked on the man, but you couldn’t help it as it beat faster, hoping the officer shot wasn’t Jay Halstead. It made you especially nervous when the officers outside the room talked amongst one another, saying the man shot was a detective. Bile started to rise in your throat, but you were pulled back by the monitors beeping rapidly. You took immediate action as you snapped out of your anxiety for just a few moments.

You finally stabilized the man enough to take him to surgery, letting the nurses and techs take him with Dr. Rhodes. You backed away, looking around the room at the mess that had been made. For a moment, you stood in silence, looking around at the blood and various instruments that were around the room, as well as the blood on your gloves and scrubs.

Blood. You saw it every day, and yet, you couldn’t help but get a nauseous at the sight. You thought maybe that detective, who was fighting for his life, was bleeding out. That maybe it was the man you loved. Maybe he was in the other room, clinging to life, and here you were, trying to save the man who shot him. The notion made you sick to your stomach. You ripped off your bloody gloves and left them in the room, quickly moving to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach of your breakfast. You panted in between heaves, gripping the toilet for dear life as you trembled at the thought of Jay dying and you saving the man who killed him.

You and Jay had met through Will, one of your coworkers and closest friends at Chicago Med. Will and Jay were brothers, and both had taken a liking to you at first, but you ultimately decided that romance with a doctor at the same hospital as you would be too complicated. You never expected the anxiety that came with beings cop’s girlfriend, though. You’d been prone to anxiety in the past, but it ramped up when you started getting serious with Jay. You had episodes like this a lot, no matter what cop came in. It had never been Jay in the past, but it only took one bullet in the wrong spot for him to die.

When the nausea passed, you slowly pushed yourself to your feet, though still unsteady as your head spin. You flushed, washed your hands and face, then made your way to the locker rooms to change out of your scrubs and into a fresh pair. When you re-emerged, you were met with Will, who gently pulled you aside before anyone else could see you. “Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Will already knew the answer to that. He was the only one who knew the full story about these episodes you had at work. Although Jay knew some of it, especially about your anxiety, he didn’t know the full picture, and you’d sworn Will into secrecy over it.

“Will, it wasn’t him, was it?”

“No, (Y/N), Jay is fine. I talked to him just a little bit ago. He is investigating this with Intelligence. He might still be here. He was looking for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, but nodded. You were relieved, but needed to see for yourself. You walked with Will back to where he’d last seen Jay, your stomach settling down as you saw him standing with Detective Lindsay, talking to Maggie. You walked over, leaning on the counter with a hum beside him, hand reaching out to rest atop his on the counter.

Jay smiled when he saw you, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “Hey, was looking for you earlier. That perp going to make it?”

Instantly, your anxiety faded away, as if it was never there in the first place. Jay had that effect on you, especially when he was upright and acting like himself. “It’s touch and go, I think,” you said with a soft sigh. “We did what we could. Rhodes took him to surgery prolly about a half hour ago. If he does make it, it’ll be a hard and long road.”

Jay hummed and looked up at Will, who had taken a place behind the counter with Maggie. “And what about the detective?”

“He’ll make it,” Will replied. “Barring complications, he should be back on the job within a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Jay replied, shifting his gaze back to you, unable to help the smile that pulled on his lips. “Hey, don’t look so down. We’ve got this.”

Your eyes met his, not realizing you’d looked upset. You smiled at him, nodding. “I know,” you replied. “It just must be hard that it’s one of your own, yaknow?”

“The risks we take,” he said with a small shrug. His statement was so nonchalant, which you didn’t like. You had to force yourself to focus on anything else to keep your rising anxiety at bay. Jay and Erin left soon after, and you shuddered, but moved back to work, checking on some other patients.

— —

“Stevenson incoming!” Maggie’s voice called out. You froze, looking up from the computer you had been typing at, swallowing hard. Your mouth ran dry, as stats were called by the paramedics. “Male, mid-thirties, stabbed multiple times.” You stood quickly, but Maggie didn’t assign you to it. You probably wouldn’t have been much help anyways, seeing as you were on the verge of an attack.

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality as you gasped, looking behind you to see Will. “Come on,” he said softly, nodding to you. “It’s okay, come on.”

You let out a shaky breath, walking with Will out to the small break room. He got you coffee, which you took whether you liked it or not. It was something to pull you back into reality. “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Will said, shaking his head. “I get the same feeling every time, but Jay just texted me that we are meeting for lunch, so it can’t be him.”

“I shouldn’t feel so much relief from this,” you said, putting your hands to your face, wiping away some tears that had started to escape. “Someone is hurt, yaknow? But I… I’m so terrified of something happening.”

“Have you talked to anyone about this? Maybe Dr. Charles can help.”

“No, no,” you said, sighing heavily, sniffling and wiping your face. “I talked to therapists all throughout middle and high school. None of them even understood me. As far as I know, I’m just messed up mentally.”

“(Y/N),” Will sighed. “We’re all messed up mentally. We’re doctors.” He shook his head again, reaching over to put a hand on your arm. “Look, maybe you just need to find the right person. Besides, we know more about mental health and the brain now than we did then. There may be new tactics to help you cope, even if we can’t cure it.”

You were thankful for Will, nodding at his suggestions. “Maybe,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your face with your hands again, then coming back to down the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” he replied, nodding. “You’re not alone, alright?”

“Thanks,” you repeated. Just then, Will’s pager rang and he had to go, but he planted a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. As quick as he was beside you, he was gone, and you sank back down to the chair, looking at your empty coffee mug with despair. Maybe you’d never get better.

— —

The past few weeks had been filled with more and more scares. There was a serial killer on the loose who was targeting cops. Your body was racked with constant anxiety every time a Stevenson was brought into the ED. The only time you weren’t was when you were assisting with a surgery, so you stayed with Dr. Rhodes most of the time to ensure you were in surgery. It was better that way for the patients and for you.

The surgery you’d just assisted in finishing was a tough one. It was a kid who had fallen on a pair of scissors the wrong way. However, Dr. Rhodes was like magic, and your own hands remained calm and steady as you fell into a zen-like trance. You weren’t thinking of anything else but the surgery at hand. The anatomy and biology of the body lying below you. It was the only time and place you’d felt at peace, despite the circumstances surrounding the incident.

As you scrubbed out, washing your hands and arms, someone came into the room. “(Y/N)…” Will’s voice rang, a hand coming to your shoulder.

“Hey,” you said softly as you turned off the water and dried your hands. “What’s up?” Your mind was still calm, but when you looked up to Will, you could tell something was off.

“Don’t freak out on me, alright?”

“Will…?” You searched his face for the answer as he squeezed your shoulders with his hands.

“Just, promise.”

“Uh… I… okay…?”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, knowing that was good enough. “Look, Jay was brought in, but-“

“What?!” You didn’t let him finish before trying to push past him to find Jay.

Will kept you in place. “No, no, (Y/N), stop, it’s okay.”

“This is NOT okay, Will! How are you so calm?!” The bile had begun to rise in your throat as you feared the worst. Tears jumped to your eyes and you had to see him. You had to know Jay was alright, even if he wasn’t.

“Hey, hey, look at me. It’s Will. Look at me!” You looked back up to Will, his hands squeezing your shoulders again to pull you back, shaking you a little. “Look, see, I’m right here. Let me finish before you break down, at least.”

You scoffed, a small scoff to hide the soft laugh of that last remark. Although you were on the verge of an attack, that pulled you back from the edge a bit, making you shake your head. “Just tell me then!”

“Jay just had a gash on his arm from a piece of metal he ran across. He just ran into a piece of metal. His sergeant sent him, just to make sure it was good. He is not shot. He is not hurt badly. He is coherent and walking around. He needed a few stitches, but that’s all.”

You searched Will’s face for any sign of him playing down the injury, but you knew Will wouldn’t lie to you. You let out a breath, wiping your face. “No, I still have to see him though because… if I don’t, I’ll never recover from this feeling.”

“I know,” Will replied. “Come on, he’s in five. But you know if you go in there like this, you’re going to have to come clean?”

“I need to see him,” you affirmed as Will walked you downstairs to where Jay was.

When you got there, you walked in and pushed the curtain back over the door to ensure you had privacy. You nearly broke down as you saw Jay, his shirt off, a bandage on his upper arm. Whether from anxiety or relief, you had no idea. The emotions pulling you in different directions was crippling, and you just stood there, trembling as tears streaked down your cheeks.

Jay looked over you as you stood, frozen in time, hot tears racing down and dripping off your chin. He got up quickly, his soft voice finally hitting your ears. “Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s the matter?”

As he caught you between his arms, you started to sob, nearly collapsing into his chest. “Fuck, Jay!”

Jay was surprised, but caught you with ease, holding you close to his bare chest. “What did I do this time?” He teased, trying to make you feel better.

You were barely in the mood as you took a fist to his chest, hitting him softly. “Don’t even joke, it’s not fair!”

Jay turned more serious, pulling back to look at you as you sobbed. “Hey… hey, just tell me what’s going on.” You couldn’t muster any more words, wiping your face with your hands. Jay pulled you over, sitting on the bed and pulling you to sit beside him. “(Y/N)?”

“I have… I have this… this intense fear,” you finally spoke, soft words only coming out with your breaths. “This intense… burning fear… all the time… that…” You swallowed hard, leaning into his shoulder on his uninjured arm.

“That what?” Jay prompted after a moment of silence.

“That you’re going to come in here and die!” You sobbed out, moving to cling to him again, arms around his torso. “Jay, every time a cop comes in here, I can’t take it! Anxiety and panic takes me over! I-I can’t! I love you so much, and I can’t lose you!”

“Hey, hey baby, you won’t lose me. You won’t.” Jay held you tightly against his chest once again, kissing your head. “Hey, come here, look at me.” He pulled back, letting you sit up and then gently taking your chin in his fingers. He tenderly pulled your chin up, then leaned down to meet you, planting a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he let out a breath. “Nothing will ever take me away from you… Nothing. Ever.”

With that, your emotions finally leveled out. You swallowed hard and reached up to cup his face, looking over his freckles. You smiled a little as your eyes met his. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he replied, matching your smile and leaning down to kiss you again.

[pervspace]

hihi!!

could i request a vendetta leon x male (cis) reader?

maybe a kind of flirty and nice reader, cracking jokes to make leon embarrassed/shy

could turn nsfw 👀

and if so- can leon be kinda dominant but also desperate like i need that man to BEGGGG 🙏🙏

kinda like “please- i cant take anymore teasing, let me fuck you, pleasepleaseplease-“

so sorry if this is a mess

warnings: m.reader, sir kink, leon is kinda pervy, biting kink, begging by both people, old man leon is so silly

word count: 1187

note: i rlly hope u like this anon, got my meds in shape and i can finally write successfully!!!

—

you were leon’s cute and energized partner, no one really knows how you two got along since your personalities should basically clash with one another. leon didn’t show it but he knew about your little antics towards him, you would constantly tease him with your physique, you would let your touch linger on him for a bit too long, and you would even laugh at his stupid jokes. leon would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about shutting that pretty mouth of yours up, he constantly laid in his bed at ungodly hours of the night palming his cock pathetically. groaning your name while thinking about what your ass would feel like around his cock, how your mouth would feel, you drove him absolutely insane.

“leon you look terrible, did you sleep at all last night?” you asked, staring up at leon with fluttering lashes, it’s this early and you’re already teasing him!? “when you get to my age, you learn to think about other things other than sleeping.” he mumbled, obviously thinking about the way he came into a pair of your boxers that he had stolen from you. you let out a hum before stepping closer to leon, “what do you think about at night, old man?” his words got caught in his throat, what the hell was he going to tell you? ‘yeah i think about you choking on my cock while you beg me to flood your mouth and ass with cum!’ of course not!

“none of your business, kid.” he leaned in closer to you, making you smirk proudly. “do you think about me leon?” leon’s face starts to burn, he stood up straight while quickly turning away from you. “of course not, why would i ever-“ “don’t lie to me, leon.” you giggled making him still, he swore he was on the verge of passing out. you turned to you with an embarrassed look in his eyes, “i can hear you at night, you’re very loud y'know.”

—

leon brought your dirty boxers to his face so he could inhale your sweet scent. he was such a pervert and he knew it, but he felt so good that he couldn’t care right now. you were in his mind always, you were like an annoying fruit fly that wouldn’t leave him alone. every pump of his hand made him groan loudly, promptly waking you up in the process. “what the hell…” you mumbled, thinking that someone must’ve stubbed their toe or something, but your guesses were very quickly proven wrong by leon calling out to you.

“fuck…so fucking tight, kid, fuck.” leon moaned out in ecstasy, your smell engulfed his senses making his whine into your stolen boxers. you pressed your ear against the wall to hear more of him, your own cock started to get painfully hard at the lewd sounds leon let slip from his mouth. you palmed at your sensitive cock, trying to keep it calm and to feel any type of friction.

leon sped up his movements, his hips bucking up to meet his hands, he was so desperate to reach his release that he continued to get louder. he didn’t care if he was loud right now, all he cared about were his filthy thoughts about you. “fuck baby, i’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me fucking cum- fuck!” leon’s back arched off the bed as ropes of cum shot out of his cock, he stroked himself through his orgasm, whining and panting like a dog at the overstimulation.

“…shit.” you heard leon curse from your room, followed by footsteps and running water. this would be fun to tease him about tomorrow, you thought.

—

leon hissed at your finger slowly moving down his torso, he grabbed your wrist making you flinch. “if you’re gonna touch me-“ he placed your hand over his hardened cock, “touch me right, baby.” leon grabbed the back of your neck to pull your mouth onto his, the kiss was sloppy and desperate. he pressed his cock desperately into your own, it was aggressive and made you whine. you pulled back from the kiss with a smirk on your face, “needy are we, sir?” “close your mouth.” he mumbled while slipping your pants down, fumbling to get his own pants off. he wanted to feel you close to him, he just wanted to feel every inch of your skin in his hands.

“leon, can you sit for me?” you asked, flirtatious tone making leon’s ears go red. be grumbled a bit before sitting himself on the couch, you straddled his lap with a small smirk on your face, he looked at you with suspicious eyes. “hold on to something, sir.” “what the hell are you-“ his sentence was interrupted by a loud moan, as you dunk yourself down on his cock he brought his hands to your hips, squishing the skin in his hands. you held onto his shoulders with a shaky smile, trying to act tough while his cock was kissing your prostate was surprisingly difficult. leon was waiting for you to move, waiting to feel your insides glide around his cock, but nothing.

you were simply grinding his cock inside you, rolling your hips in small circles. leon leaned forward to capture your neck in his teeth, this was better than anything he’s ever imagined, for a moment he thought he was dreaming with how good your insides felt. he quickly got impatient though, trying to lift your hips up only to be met with a smack on the hand. “cmon baby, this is fucking torture.” he whined into your ear, “please let me fuck you, i cant do this grinding shit anymore. please please, pretty please?” he begged, still sucking and nibbling your neck, leaving pretty bruises.

“jeez, been awhile since you’ve gotten your dick wet huh-“ leon thrusted upwards making you moan out in shock, he got tired of waiting, he was going to go crazy if he didn’t have you right then and there. “god baby, you feel so good…so fucking tight f’me.” he groaned still pounding up into you, each thrust earned slutty moans and whimpers. you locked your arms around leon’s neck, trying to kiss him but he pulled away, “nuh uh, how do you ask?” he's so mean. you whined at his tone, you felt yourself get closer to your high, you were shaking and practically pleading with leon. “p-please kiss! i-i wanna kiss you wh-while we cum! please?” you begged making him smile, he quickly pulled your mouth into his with a groan. your body trembled as your orgasm tore through you, your back arched, chest hitting leon’s as you finally let go.

leon let you cuddle into him, he wrapped his strong arms around your shaking body. he whispered sweet nothings in your ears, drawing shapes into your back with. he smirked to himself, he let you simmer down for a second so he wouldn’t overwhelm you, he still hasn’t cum yet. plus, he still has to teach you a lesson about teasing him, he didn’t forget about that part at all.

[munsonsprincess11111]

Panic attacks.

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: Eddie's having a bad day in school. He's doing everything not to have a panic attack. He doesn't even know what's wrong with him. He's sat at lunch leg bouncing. Hands sweaty. He needs help but the man will never admit it.

Eddie's sat at lunch n he's a hot mess. Shaking. Heavy breathing. He feels like the rooms spinning. Like everything ten times louder. Feels like he could throw up. He needs help. He doesn't even know what's wrong. Will he ask for help? Nope.

"Dude are you sure your OK?" Gareth askes concerned.

Eddie just mumbles and keeps his face in his hands.

You come walking over. Smiling ans joyful.

"OH no the devil in disguise." Jeff jokes as you approach the table.

"Hilarious honestly you should ditch hellfire and join the comedy club your that funny." You joke back. You look down at Eddie and your face goes from happy to concerned. "You OK hunny?" You ask noticing his state.

He nods but other then that ignoring your even stood there. Normally Eddie's hands would be all over you by now talking non stop. You know somethings wrong.

"You sure?" You ask raking your fingers through his mess of curls. As your nails make contact with his head he flinches. You pick up Eddie's tun lunch box and hold your other hand out. "Common." You say to Eddie.

He finally looks up at you confused. "Let's go Common." You walk off. Eddie looks at the rest of hellfire and then gets up and walks off with you. Once you exit the cafeteria his head drops to your shoulder as you walk along taking his hand in your free one.

You both say nothing. Just walk down the halls in silence. Enjoying eachothers presence. However Eddie is still on the verge of his break down. "Where did you park?" You ask quietly "normal spot." HE mumbles back. You nod and walk to where Eddie parks.

He unlocks the side door opening it for you then climbing in after him. You pull the sofa in the back and turn it into the bed. You kay down opening your arms for Eddie. Eddie comes over and lays down next to you. Putting his head on your chest arms around your waist and hooking one leg over your legs.

You wrap your arms around him holding him close to you. Eddie closes his eyes and his breathing starts to slow down. His leg still bouncing slightly. But he's finally calming down.

"What's going on hun?" You ask quietly. You sit still holding the boy. He let's out a shakey breath. He hides his face in the crook of your neck finally speaking.

"Everything is becoming stressful again. I wanna skip lessons but I don't wanna fail. I'm not sleeping until late cause I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. And when I wake up I wake up late so I forget my meds which really isn't helping. By the time I remember I'm in first period. I go home take them and bam another night not sleeping. But if I Dont take em all together then I feel worse. I just need a break. And I feel like I've barely seen you and I really just need you and only you right now. The only time I see you out of school is with someone else present where its a group hang out. And I feel really fucking selfish but I just need something."

He broke. His eyes welled with tears. His breathing uneven. And a shaking mess. You run your hand comfortingly through his hair.

"Babe. You should've told me. We can hang out anytime just us you say the word I'm all yours OK? Don't feel selfish for needing something. How about I come stay at the trailer tonight? We van watch some movies and start fixing your sleep schedule for starters. I'll stroke your head until your asleep. N ill make sure we wake up on time and you take your meds." You whisper stroking his back.

He let's out a relaxed breath. "I don't deserve you. Your fucking perfect thank you love you so much. N yeh I sleep way better when your at mine no Idea why guess its just comfort." HE removes his head from your neck looming at you

"I love you to n ill always be here for you. I'll stay tonight so u get up for school n ill stay the weekend even Sunday night? That OK?" You ask. Eddie nods putting his head on your chest. 10 minutes later you both walk back into school hand in hand. You take Eddie to class and he promises to meet you at your class after school and you part ways.

-next morning-

6:53am. The clock read when Eddie woke up. He looked at laying on your side. Arm still drapped over Eddie. He squeezes you tighter kissing your head. "Babe, gotta wake up sleepy." HE says laying sweet kisses on your face.

You stir awake amiling at Eddie. He kisses your lips and you scrunch your face. You knew full when you had morning breath but Eddie didn't care. "Howd you sleep?" You ask running your hand up his side.

"SO fucking good. Best night sleep in about a month I won't even lie to you." HE says kissing your neck.

"You fell asleep so early 9 o'clock u went." You smiled at Eddie.

"Mmm was the head and back scratches." HE lays next to you hugging you.

You smile at him happy you could help him. Laying your head on his chest. You stayed in that position for another 5 minutes before getting up and dressed for school.

Your making toast for you and Eddie as he walks out slipping his top on giving you a brief glimpse of his happy trail which your eyes went to immediately.

"After school." HE winks kissing you.

"Meds hot shot." You says as the toast pops and you butter it. He opens the cabinet getting out his anxiety and adhd meds popping one of each in his hands.

"DO I need the adhd one I'm so fun without it." Eddie askes smirking popping both pills in his mouth drinking some milk from the cartoon.

"Mmm your fun on it to even better actually." You say passing him his toast.

"Mmm ok" he eats his toast and then you both brush your teeth. He stands behind you keeping one hand on your waist as you brush your teeth. And then off to school and you arrive with 10 minutes to spare.

You both approach the hellfire members and they look shocked to see Eddie. "Morning ladies." Eddie greets himself to the boys. Lighting a cigarette in the process pulling you close to his side inhaling and exhaling the smoke. "Cold isn't it."

"Dude your early to school jeez." Gareth says hugging his girlfriend trying to keep warm.

Eddie looks at you and smiles. "Thanks to y/n made me sleep n get up never knew actually needed to do that." HE said finishing his smoke tossing it on the ground.

Everyone parts ways ad the bell goes but you and Eddie. He walks you to the you both had kissing you. "Do we have to go in." HE smiles into your lips.

"Yep common." You kiss him one more time. "I love you."

"I love you too." ONE last kiss and a sutle ass swat and Eddie and you walk into class and arrives on time to the teachers and everyone else's response.

Yeah his anxiety gets the best of him sometimes. But he knows he will be OK as long as he's got you.

You and Eddie sit in the back wanting to be out rhe way. And Gareth walks in sitting in the middle row. "OH my god he came in on time shock to everyone thought the freak couldn't tell the time the amount of school he's missed." Jason comments seeing Eddie his friends laughing. Eddie gets a devilish grin on face.

"OH my god Jason carver came in 30 seconds thought he'd be able to count the amount of school he's attending or can't you cause your heads to full of me. If that's the case I'm honoured Jason but I have a girlfriend maybe one of your boy toys there will get u there in 23 seconds." Eddie smirks putting his arm around your shoulder. You can't help the smirk that creeps on your face.

Jason looks stunned at Eddie that he actually just said that infront of the class. Gareth still staring at the front then chimes in for Jason.

"He's backkkkkkkkkkkk."

[thatwritterbeach]

So About that Alley .3

Jason Todd x fmc

DC masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss

A/N: I do not own dc booho

"Hey, Jay," she asked in a totally calm totally cool manner the next morning, completely numb thanks to the nice little combo she'd whipped up. Not floating or un-present but not in pain, even where the arm of the couch was digging into her side as Jason squished into her, laying fully on top of her.

"Yes, my beloved?"

"Don't make me take away your books you little dork. I was just wondering if your family knows about you...you know, not being dead?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"Just if I happened to run into them I wouldn't wanna be like 'oh I'm dating Jason' and they'd be all 'wtf is wrong with this chick, he's dead' you know."

"I guess. Alex," he said grabbing her hand and pulling it to his mouth," I'm gonna introduce you, I'm not ashamed of you or whatever the hell else your mind is trying to say. My family is...overwhelming for most and I didn't want to scare you off."

"I get it dude, and since I just recently placed you as Robin you would have had to hire a family, or spill you deepest secrets to me. Lucky for you, I am the most understanding woman on the planet."

"I'd argue, but you're right. I'll text Alfred, the leader of the gang, and see when we can come for dinner. Be warned though, it could be tonight, they've been trying to get me to come home for a while now."

It was in fact that night. Alex scurried around for a clean pair of jeans, then after a glance in the mirror at her too large reflection she ripped them off and tossed them to the floor. A dress? No, that one has a tear. This skirt? No, it's too short. Jean short, they're clean but who the fuck wear jeans shorts to a mansion. Business slacks, no that says trying too hard. Ah ha, a superman t-shirt, and black leggings, then top it off with one of Jason's zip up hoodies.

"Is that what you're wearing," he asked with a laugh as he came into the room. In fact the laugh became a full blown fit and he doubled over nearly to the ground clutching his stomach and wheezing. With each second she got more and more self-conscious. Of course she couldn't wear what was basically pajamas to a fancy place, what was wrong with her. With a sigh she took off her boots and slid out of the leggings and switched them for her jeans, that she hated but whatever. Searching in vain for something that wasn't a graphic tee, or a business blouse she was half way through her closet when Jason recovered enough to notice what she was doing.

"No, put it back on, it's great, doll, I wasn't laughing at you, I was laughing with you."

"I wasn't laughing," she said without emotion.

"Hey, come 'er." Much to her wiggling protest he pulled her tight against him and placed several loud kisses along her scalp.

"Everyone else will be in pj's I solemnly swear, in fact I was just about to change into my matching flannel set, someone amazing bought it for me, but I can't remember who," he said tapping his chin with mock thought.

"Really?"

"Cross my heart," he said, though his fingers were crossed behind his back.

"Ok," she conceded trying to get free. He held on for another minute before spinning her out away from himself and winking when she fell back onto the bed. Matching pj's in hand he headed to the bathroom, not for privacy but to send an urgant group chat explicity stating lounge clothes were to be worn.

See masterlist for more

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your writing is amazing! I was wondering how König would deal with a chronically ill reader? I just get bad migraines and lose my balance so if I'm getting stalked there's a 100% chance he's going to see me bump into everything and also fall asleep everywhere LOL

Oh, it's going to fuck up with his toxic tendencies a lot. He knows that you're an adult woman, that you had a life before him, that you know your body better than anyone would, and that you understand your limits to any capacity - but he also knows that he wants to take care of you, and that your chronic illnesses can make you way more fragile than any other people, and he loves it.

He knows it's wrong, demented, he shouldn't be thankful to god that his wifey is a fragile mess that might hurt herself in any given second because of her health problems, but he would be so patient and soft with you. Fall-proofs the whole house, takes all baby-safe stuff to glue on the corners of walls and any furniture edges, manages your meds, and does everything to help you in terms of cooking and doing housework. He is a traditional man who loves being pampered, and he kinda enjoys your stumbling around the kitchen to prepare him dinner despite your pain, but he also wants for you to be safe! So he often offers help and just gently supports you everywhere. Konig is suffering from a sleepy girlfriend epidemic, he often finds you asleep in random chairs and has to gently move you to a couch or his bed - he enjoys looking at you, all weak and fragile, no matter how fucked up it might be for everyone else. You're his precious thing, he wants to take care of you!

[allllium]

I Promise I'll Try

~ This started off as fluff. I'm not exactly sure how it turned to angst but once I started writing it I couldn't stop 😭

~ Angst, WC: 1,417

~ Reader stays up for Matt ~

Making brownies at three in the morning is rarely a good idea. Not when you have to work early in the morning and especially not when you have a super-hearing, super-smelling, vigilante boyfriend who specifically told you not to wait up for him because you have work in the morning. 

But it’s two years into your relationship, and honestly, he should know you'll never listen by now. So now you are making chocolate chunk brownies at three in the morning because Matt has infected your soul and made you unable to sleep without him. Being a cuddler and having Daredevil as a boyfriend doesn't always work out. 

You’re humming in the kitchen as you take the brownies out of the oven. The smell of chocolate drifts over the apartment, decorated in lights for the holidays. You turn around to set the freshly baked treats on the counter. “Holy fuck! Why do you do this to me?” You put the brownies on the counter before leaning over to place a hand on your heart, trying to calm down from the mini heart attack your boyfriend just gave you.

“I've been here for at least a minute.” Matt shrugs.

“And what? You were just watching me?” You look at the man in his red suit, eyes wide in confusion and slight embarrassment, while your heart continues to beat rapidly.

“It was cute.” He pulls off the helmet of his suit. “You're supposed to be sleeping.”

You begin to clean up your mess in the kitchen. “I was waiting for you.” 

“I told you not to wait for me. You have to work in the morning.”  He steps closer and pulls you out of the kitchen. 

“Hey, I was trying to clean that.” You point back towards the kitchen with your one free hand. 

“I can do that in the morning.” He drags you into the bedroom and pushes you to sit on the bed. When he makes you sit on the bed, you notice the soft grunt he lets out, clearly trying to hide it from you. 

“Matt, what's wrong? Did you get hurt?” The smile immediately leaves your face. Worry floods your body at his expression. 

“No, I’m fine, just tired.” He grabs clean clothes out of the dresser and heads to the bathroom. 

“Mhm. Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong.” Two years, and he still refuses to talk to you about the ‘Daredevil’ side of him. It's getting tiring. 

“There's nothing wrong. I already told you I'm fine.” A thin layer of frustration covers his voice. 

As he changes into his new clothes, you can see him wiping blood off the side of his neck. “Great, so that blood I see just magically appeared?” 

“Can’t you just leave it alone? Let’s just go to bed.”

“I’m not just going to leave it alone until you tell me why you’re bleeding.”

“I can deal with it myself. You’re supposed to be going to bed.” You stand up and go into the bathroom with him. 

“Oh yeah, 'cause God forbid I care about you, right? Sit down.” You point him toward the toilet. He’s still standing when you grab the med kit from the cabinet. “Matthew, sit down.” 

“You know what I do. You know I get hurt. You said you've accepted that.” He sits down, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have accepted what you do. I have accepted that sometimes you’ll get injured, but I will never be okay with you lying to me.” You start doing your best to fix his injuries as you talk.

“If I say I'm fine, then I’m fine.” To say the feeling in the apartment has shifted from earlier in the night would be a massive understatement. It doesn't feel like the warm apartment you were baking in just a few minutes ago. Now, it’s cold and full of unnerving tension.

“No, you’re not. You can tell me you’re fine as much as you want, and I’ll never believe you. I get to spend every night knowing you're probably going to get hurt, and if you do, you are going to go to Claire first, and you're never going to tell me. I get to find out you’re hurt when I see the bruises or the stitches or whatever else shows up. You want to know why I stay up for you every night? I can't sleep until I know you're coming home. I need to see you to know you’re okay instead of hoping you’ll wake me up if you need help. Which we both know you won’t do.” You finish dressing his last wound. “I’m going to bed.” 

You put the medkit back in the cabinet far more aggressively than you meant to, but you're too annoyed to care. Just as you turn to leave the bathroom, Matt grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. “Stop. Sweetheart, we need to talk about this.” 

“Can't. I have work in the morning.” You know you need to talk to him, but you'd rather not discuss this while you're this angry.

“Baby, c'mon.” He still has a hold on your wrist.

You pull out of his grip and head back for the bedroom. “I already said what I needed to say. We can talk tomorrow.”

You turn off the light and sink into the plush bed. Unable to fall asleep, you lay in bed staring at the wall. Matt’s in the other room, clearly trying to give you space. 

After what feels like hours, your boyfriend slips into bed behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist under the blankets. “I'm sorry.” He whispers.

“I know, but unfortunately, that's not enough to change anything.” You can't help but lean back into his touch, even with your anger.

“I don't mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I just don't want to make you worry.” You know that. Matt tends to downplay his problems because he feels he doesn't deserve the care you want to give him. 

You turn in his arms to face him. Your heartstrings pull when you see the expression on his face. Fear and sadness are deep in his eyes. “You think not telling me is going to worry less? I am always worried that you're hiding some serious injury. I would worry a lot less if I knew exactly how you are hurt and if you let me help you get better.”

“You don't need to look after me all the time. You don't deserve that.” 

“That's not for you to decide, baby. I like taking care of you. And I don't deserve to be lied to.” 

“Lying keeps you safe. The last thing I want is someone coming after you because I can't keep you safe.” With every word spoken, your anger slowly dissolves. You know why he does what he does, but sometimes the frustration builds up, and it seems the logic leaves your mind. 

“If no one knows who you are, they won't know who I am either.” You swipe a strand of loose hair off his face, his lips twitching up into a small smile at your touch.

“If anything happens to you, I don't think I'd be able to live.” His eyes show you nothing but honesty.

“Don't say things like that.” You scold him.

“It’s true. I just want to keep you away from the side of me that could put you in danger.”

“Letting me help you or telling me when you get hurt won't put me in danger.” Matt shifts his position, lying on his back and moving you to set your head on his chest. He lets out a long sigh.

“I know. But it still terrifies me.” You hook your leg over his waist and tilt your head to get a better look at him. His voice is quiet like he's having a hard time admitting it. 

“Well, we need to do something. I love you too much to let this hurt our relationship.” 

“We will. I'll fix it, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can't guarantee. That'll be worse than lying.”

“I promise I'll try to fix it.”

“Thank you.” You fall into a comfortable silence before being cut off by your yawn.

“Go to sleep, baby. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, I love you.” You give him a soft kiss and lean back against his chest.

“I love you too.” And you hope that'll be enough.

[minihotdog]

Stay a Wee Longer

Pairing: Soap x Medic!OC (Sergeant Lynn)

Summary: Soap ends up needing to be stitched up and is happy that the person doing it is so purdy

a/n: I actually like this fic ngl

c/w: poor understanding of medicine and the medical field, blood, wounds, mentions of dropping babies, saying too damn much while high off pain meds, a cutie patootie so cute it makes me wanna explode, too much smiling.

Word Count: 1k

***

You raced down the hallways of the small med bay alongside the medic you were turning over as he filled you in on the current influx of patients.

“We just got a wave of task force in the bay. You know what that means.” Reed sings at the end of his statement. 

“Trouble.” Your words are dry, already exhausted from imagining the day ahead. “Yes, ma’am!” He exclaims in agreement.

When the task force was back in town it meant everyone had their work cut out for them. All sorts of injuries would come through, many needing immediate care.

“Your first patient is Sergeant Mactavish. Ooooh, he’s cute.” Reed gasps, peaking at the patient chart before handing the clipboard to you. “You should really make a move.”

“What’s wrong with him?” You ignore his remark. 

Reed rolls his eyes at your attempt to deflect. 

“Laceration, Left pectoral muscle. Bleeding is minimal, large improvement from earlier.”

“Yeah, rog.” 

“If you don’t make a move on him then I will. Give me his file back.” He says while faking taking the clipboard from you desperately.

“Reed! I swear!” You finally break, smirking at your friend. He laughs before you both head in opposite directions.

You reach an unmarked door, a room reserved for more secretive guests. You knock before entering and greet an apprentice cleaning up a mess of bloody gauze.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

The apprentice nods and leaves. You feel a pair of eyes on you while taking another peek at the patient’s chart before speaking. 

“Hello, Sergeant Mactavish, how are you this morning?” You brace for a sarcastic or angry response only to be met with a genuine “Oh, I'm quite lovely.”

Your eyes dart from the chart to him in surprise. His baby blues staring back at you. You’d ask patients how they were, even when they were obviously in pain, it allowed you to gauge how well they may cooperate during the treatment. Usually, the response would be along the lines of “fuck off” or “what do you think?” Yet here he sat with a slight smile tugging at one side of his lips and a dazed look.

“What’s yer name, bonnie?” His eyes were tired, dark circles clung to them as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“I’m Sergeant Lynn. I’ll be tending to you today.” 

He gives you a proper smile, his eyes nearly closing in the process,

“Good tae meet ye, Sergeant Lynn.”

You notice the scar on his chin and recall his lengthy medical history in the chart,

“You sure do get hurt a lot, don’t you?”

He continues grinning, “Aye, I’m awfully good at that.”

You take a seat on the rolling chair next to the hospital bed where he lies. Your eyes give him a once over looking for any other obvious injuries. He’s lying shirtless, his camo pants splotched with blood here and there. He has a small patch of chest hair and a Scottish flag tattooed over his heart, and old scars litter his torso and arms. Your cheeks felt warm at the sight of his physique, it was obvious that this man loved the gym as much as life itself.

You mentally tell yourself to keep it together as you put your gloves on and begin removing the bloody bandage placed on his chest to help stop any bleeding he still had. His wound still oozes out a slow stream of blood traveling down his chest and slowing at his abdomen. You wipe up the blood with gauze, feeling his muscles contract under your touch. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s bleeding, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m happy yer the one lookin’  after me today.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” You glance up at him quickly before continuing to examine the wound and its depth.

“Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve set eyes on in a long time. And I’m no sayin’ that ‘cause I’ve been starin’ at ma teammate’s ugly mug fir months.” His words occasionally blend together in a messy slur.

You felt a little embarrassed by his compliment. It wasn’t the most appropriate time for you to be receiving one. He was bleeding, wounded, and your eyes trying so desperately to not gawk at his bare chest or stare back into his captivating eyes.

“Thank you, sergeant. I assume the pain medication you’ve been given is working well.”

“Ye assumed correctly, but I still hae some discomfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’ll up the dose for you.” You quickly reach over him turning a dial on his dropper, the liquid beginning to drop more frequently. Soap notices your sweet-smelling perfume at the brief proximity and he lets his head drop back on the bed, eyes shut trying to savor it. The cool liquid entering his arm through an IV causes him to sigh and you assume he’s feeling the effects of the medication a little more, relaxing even further into the bed but once again he looks at you, this time with the softest eyes making your heart jump at the sight.

“Could you state your name and date of birth for me? Gotta ask before I do anything.”

“As ye wish. John Mactavish, January 12, 1996.”

You thank him quietly and continue trying to clean his wound and stop the little bleeding that is still present.

“A winter baby, huh? I heard they’re the happiest little things.”

“Aye? Where did ye hear that?”

You toss the used gauze into a small bin on your work table. “It’s an old wives tale.” Your lips form a downturned smile. “I used to deliver babies. The old midwives always had the darndest things to say.”

He chuckles sweetly, “Ah wonder if it’s true.”

“Me too. Unfortunately. I only saw the babies when they were born. Never got the chance to catch up.” You find yourself chuckling alongside him. You were certain a tint of pink had found its place on your cheeks. 

“It must be a wonderful experience tae see the birth o’ a wean.”

You pause looking up at him with your eyebrows raised. He recognizes the look he gets almost daily from his teammates and translates, “A baby.”

You grab your suture and begin stitching the wound shut.

“It is. Sometimes it feels like a game of Russian Roulette, sometimes you get an easy delivery.” Your lip twitches downward, “Other times it all goes to shit. You don’t know what to expect, but with time it becomes a sixth sense.” You dab his wound with some gauze before continuing. “Most people don’t realize how hard birth actually is, or the risks. People think it’s easy because you might have the organs for it, but it often doesn’t go as planned.”

He listens to you attentively, his eyes go from the ceiling to you and back to the ceiling.

“Why did ye leave that work? Ye sound passionate.”

“Well, you can only drop so many babies before they send you running for the hills.” You joke, hoping he picks up on it instead of believing you were some serial baby dropper. His laughter fills the small room, the sound almost boyish but laced with the deep bass of his voice. You can tell he probably needed a laugh after the pain he’d endured. 

“Ye hae a great sense o’ humour, sergeant.” His laughter dies down and he looks at you for the thousandth time. “Seriously, why did ye stop?”

You sigh, “I wanted a little more… Pizzazz?” The word sounded more like a question, you weren’t sure if it truly explained how you felt.

“…Pizzazz?” He repeats with a snicker falling from his lips. He tilts his head at you, his eyebrows raised in amusement. You look up at him with a spark in your eye that he can’t explain. “I wanted more chaos, more variety, heart-pounding work.”

“Hmm.” In a way he understood.

“When I woke up this morning, I had no idea what I’d be doing. Here I am stitching up a handsome Scotsman and tomorrow…” You shrug, “Maybe a rookie will come in with their fingers in an ice chest after a Roman candle fight. Who knows?”

He chortles, partially from you calling him handsome and from remembering his days of being a mentor to the rookies of his old unit before the SAS and Task Force. He’d received countless phone calls in the dead of night being informed that his troops were out raising hell. A rookie’s life was hell, but without responsibility, the blame would fall on whatever poor soul was listed as their supervisor. 

“That mean ye work well under stress?”

“Something like that.” Your words trail off focusing a little harder on the intricate parts of the stitch. “What made you want your crazy-ass job?”

“The adrenaline is mental, but I get tae do something rewardin’. I’m proud tae protect folk, even frae dangers they dinnae know exist.” He hisses slightly at the end of his sentence. You stop, waiting for him to recuperate. He gives you a reassuring look before you continue. “What made ye wan’ tae be a medic?”

“I like helping people, even if they fight back half the time.” You go quiet for a few seconds. “Also, some rotten girl I went to school with said she wanted to be one as well and I said I could do it better.”

“Haha, ye seem like the competitive type.” His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips. Your eyes retreat back to his chest, and you chew on your lip trying to calm yourself. 

“I’m sure ye’d kick her arse at this a thoosand times o’er. I can see ye pit a lot o’ love intae yer work.”

“I do what I can.” You wink at him playfully. It was now his turn to blush, he was thankful that the scruff he’d grown the last two days was there to camouflage it. Cannae let a bonnie lassie see ye like this, John

“Alright, Sergeant Mactavish. You’re all stitched up and ready to go. Please take it easy until it heals. And please no Roman candle fights.” You warn while placing your tools on the small table to your side. 

He laughs heartily, “Thae days are long behind me.”

“I’ll have an apprentice come to take out your IV and if you have an escort you can leave immediately.”

“Thank ye. I suppose it’s better tae be safe than sorry. Even though I reckon I could handle it.” His large hand comes up to scratch his scruff. His bicep contracts in what he thinks is a natural movement. You mentally roll your eyes at his innocent peacocking. If he hadn’t been so delightful, you’d have written him off as another sweet-talking womanizer you’d encountered from the special forces. 

“Maybe you would manage just fine but every precaution comes about because the unthinkable has happened.” You clean up your station, disposing of your gloves. 

“Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Tae be honest, I’d like if ye stayed a wee bit longer and humored a poor injured man.”

You shake your head at him with a smirk. Your pager cuts you off before you have a chance to respond. “I’d love to stay but I have to run.” You take out a notepad, scribble on it and hand it to him. Your soft hands graze his calloused ones. “Here you go, darlin’.” You shoot him a smile and he gladly returns one before you scurry off leaving him alone in the room. He looks at the piece of paper realizing you’d given him your phone number. A big smile spreads on his face, red finally peeking out from behind his facial hair. Oh, Johnny lad ye hae ootwitted yersel!