#where is your hippocratic oath

[red1culous]

Take Care of Maya

I watched this last night and cried my eyes out. It's a documentary about the Kowalski's and their struggles not so much with Maya's CRPS affliction but more so with Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital for allegedly abusing Maya Kowalski, then 10, and accusing her mother of Munchausen by proxy.

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you well. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

[sukirichi]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒. Zayne blamed it on that cursed hippocratic oath that always made him come to your beck and call. But one look at your smiling — although bloodied — face, he realizes he doesn’t mind being your personal doctor. 

𐙚 — Doctor! Zayne x Gangster! Reader

𐙚 — NSFW, MINORS DNI. public sex, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), descriptive smut, explicit sex, curse words, deep throating, unprotected sex, sleepy morning sex, fluff, smut, fucking while the reader is recovering from an injury, unrealistic ending LMAO, minimal angst, violence, attempted murder. 13k WC

𐙚 — this is my first lads work please do not judge me AGHSJKA. divider from @/cafekitsune

You’d been in this state before.

It wasn’t anything new, really, and yet the pain never got any more bearable. Each shot always felt like the first one, and you clenched your teeth hard to keep yourself from passing out in the hallway. It was dark, thanks to the old lights that flickered on and off, and you were sure that if someone saw you in this state, they would probably run away. You can’t blame them, because you were pretty banged up.

Heaving a deep breath from your lungs, you leant against the wall, careful not to leave any bloodstains as ragged breaths escaped your mouth. You shuddered from the pain. Your hand was already clutching your wounded shoulder, putting pressure to stabilize the blood oozing out from the wound while your other arm was wrapped around your waist where two bullets had perfectly been shot at you. Your vision had started to become blurry by now, and your knees were growing weaker with each passing second, but his door was just there. Just a few more steps until you found the comfort you so desperately sought out.

With a groan, you pushed yourself away from the wall and wobbled to his front door, letting out a whimper when you realized he kept the door locked. Of course. Plucking out a few hairpins from the back of your head, you twisted it into his doorknob before sighing in relief as the lock opened with a click. You fell almost face first to the floor, your weight becoming harder and harder for you to carry until your legs finally gave in, and you fell on the ground with a loud ‘thud.’ You whimpered in pain, chest heaving up and down in discomfort as your shaking fingers pried the material of your tank top away from the wound. Frowning when you saw the white cotton had been stained completely red.

“Who’s there?” A soft voice asked just as the lights flickered open, making you wince in your spot. “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

He scurried to your almost passed out form, his dark hair coming into view as his huge eyes stared back at you. You noticed his hands were hanging awkwardly in the air as if unsure to touch you, and you felt a little bad when you saw he was still in his doctor’s coat. He had probably just gotten home after a hellish shift at the hospital, and you ruined the little amount of sleep he allowed himself to have.

You forced a smile on your face as your hands reached up to brush the hair away from his eyes, the action leaving a blood stain on its way. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

“You’re seriously crazy,” was all he said before his strong arms wrapped around you securely, making you groan as he scooped you up, your head lolling into his chest before you curled yourself into a ball. You felt the warmth of his leather couch hitting your bare legs, thanks to your ripped denim shorts before he disappeared from your side. A sound of several medical equipment clanked through the tense silence, and soon enough Zayne appeared in your line of sight once more. His hand gently helped you to prop your head on the pillow, a frown painting his soft features as the sound of medical gloves stretching hit your ears.

He didn’t look too happy.

“Two months. You’ve been gone for two months without even a phone call or a simple text to tell me how you’re doing, and now you come back all beaten up?” He shook his head, passing you a bottle of alcohol and a towel to bite on before lifting your shirt up. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me.”

Well, you knew you weren’t exactly deserving of a warm welcome, but that didn’t stop you from feeling bad anyway.

Zayne sighed, showing you what seemed to be sterilized medical tweezers and a kidney shaped looking metal bin placed on the coffee table. “This is gonna hurt. I don’t have anesthetics.”

“Just get it over with.”

He nodded, although a look of hesitation crossed him before he peeled your shirt away from your skin. A pained and hesitant grimace was sent your way as he assessed the damage, and you assured him you’d be fine. This wasn’t the first time he’d taken care of your injuries, but that didn’t make it less painful for the both of you. For you, it was just physical torture all throughout, and your eyes seared with hot tears that threatened to fall as you remembered your most recent stab wound. Zayne had been the one to take care of it as well, and you felt a little guilty that the only times – well, most of the times, anyway – that you spent at his apartment consisted of him tending to your wounds. And fucking. Lots of fucking.

Now that you thought about it, it’s been too long since you saw Zayne, and the sight of him biting his lip in concentration as he pulled the bullets out was enough to turn you on.

Dark bags were under his eyes, eyes lidded heavily and his little button nose scrunched up a little at the stench of blood. In your own dazed haze of admiring his beauty and all his little quirks you’ve learned through two years of knowing him, you momentarily forgot the heated pain you were in through until he counted down from one to three. He pulled the bullet out, making you bite down on the towel placed in between your teeth.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just one more and we’re good.” He cooed, his soothing voice contrasting well with the pained whimpers that left your throat. While he was busy placing the bullet onto the metal bin, you spat out the towel and drank the beer in one go, feeling the burn of it sting your throat. Zayne was looking at you worriedly, but you nodded at him encouragingly to keep going. 

“I’ll be fine.” You dismissed with a wave of your hand.

You were propped up on your elbows as he sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time of that night. His hands were cool against your heated skin, eyes locked on yours as his fingers moved to slide the straps of your tank top down ever so slowly that made you hitch your breath. He’d just finished with taking out the bullets from your waist, and now he was staring intently at the blood that flowed from your collarbones to the swell of your breasts. You swallowed.

His fingers – those same fingers that had the skill of fucking you into another realm and saving lives of people – worked skillfully into plucking the bullet out. Zayne’s other hand was placed on your good arm gently for leverage while his minty breath fanned against your face. You shuddered as you realized you were caged inside his arms. His face was so close to yours that you were sure you could count his eyelashes.

You trailed your gaze lower from his eyes to his thin lips, the ones that you learned kissed softly and passionately in contrast to how rough he was in bed, and only then did you realize how much you’d missed him.

“I love it when you’re on top of me.” You purred, a strangled and yet erotic moan leaving your lips as he successfully took the bullet out. 

Zayne coughed.

“You are shameless,” He murmured with a shake of his head, feeling incredulous as he patched bandages on your wound. You stared at him with a smirk on your face. “You barge in at what, two in the morning, all beaten up and you flirt with me? Didn’t anyone tell you not to distract a professional from his duties?” 

“Can you blame me when you look so fucking hot when you’re concentrated?” You whispered huskily, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear before you pulled away. He was staring at you wide eyed, “Consider it as payment since you’ve been inside me so many times.” 

Zayne was now blushing madly as he leaned away to get more bandages from his first aid kit. “Oh my god – are you serious? That isn’t the same... You know what, just keep your mouth shut. Let me do what I need to do. You’re being way too weird right now.” 

You grinned, making sure he saw how much of a teasing shit you were. “I know, and you love me anyway.”

Your deal had gone perfectly well that Jenna had rewarded you handsomely. The weight you’ve been carrying for days had now been lifted off, and you were finally free from the anxiety of fucking it up. It wasn’t your first deal per se, but it was perhaps the most critical assignment she’d ever sent you on. You remembered not being able to sleep for days as you calculated the ins and outs of it. Although Jenna had assured you all you needed to do was trade the goods with them at the port and it was all over, the worry hadn’t eased one bit. Sylus was infamous for leading a drug cartel after he killed his own father to precede him, so it was only natural you felt scared you would meet the man himself. Alone.

But… he was actually alright. He went straight to business and didn’t dilly dally further, and once he was sure your goods were fresh and genuine, he gave the promised money and left without a word. You came back to Jenna with a satisfied smirk, and now you were on your way to this bar that seemed a little too vanilla for your liking. The blinking light of the bar sign was red and neon, and you scoffed as it read Pleasure Cave. 

Seriously?

This looked more like a brothel than a bar, and you eyed the girls in skimpy outfits and blood red lipsticks waiting in line with distaste present on your face. No wonder Nero recommended this place. He was never after the drinks, he was after the girls. Well, you couldn’t blame him. Living in shabby apartments and doing underground work wasn’t entirely fancy, plus being a full time gang member didn’t allow him to spend as much time with girls as he would like. Well, whatever, you were here for the drinks. 

Now that the deal was done and over with, you were going to get absolutely wasted. 

Passing by the hundred people waiting in line, you smiled cheekily as the six foot tall and perhaps three hundred pounds of steroid bouncer glowered at you. “Get in line, sweet cheeks.”

“I don’t think I need to.” Pulling down your shirt a little to reveal the tattoo on your collar bones, the bouncer glared at it before he stood back up with recognition. He said something through the crackled intercom of his walkie talkie. There was a pause, then the doors opened with a heavy creak, the thumping bass of the loud music inside faintly heard. Now that worked well. You grinned wider, stepping on your tippy toes to press a sloppy kiss on his cheeks. “Thank you, angel.”

“Anytime, Ma’am.”

You stepped inside, feeling the cold breeze of the air conditioner nipping at your skin, and you were in a state of elation. Releasing a sigh, you maneuvered through the crowd and plopped on the bar stool, smiling confidently at the bartender before ordering something strong. He merely glanced at your smoky eyes that were lined with kohl, and you winked at him before chewing your gum obnoxiously. Sliding down several shot glasses your way, you sent him an impressed look – he knew you’d be here for quite a long time.

And oh, a long time it was. Seven shots later, the bartender sighed when you raised a finger to signal one more shot, and that’s when he came. It was probably because you were intoxicated and desperate to release some stress, but whatever the reason, you didn’t regret any of the decisions you made that night. 

The first thing you noticed about him was his smell. The faint aroma of rubbing alcohol mixed with a masculine scent was enough to make you turn your head, and you downed your shot in one go as you watched the stranger order something fancy. Huh. The raven haired man was dressed to the nines; a baby blue shirt tucked underneath a pair of tight fitting black pants that you were sure groped his ass. You raised a brow at the mere sight of his slender waist that had you ordering two more shots. You noticed his hands first – long and beautiful – and the image of him choking you as he fucked you from behind made you scoot closer to him. 

“Hey.”

Surprised, he jumped from his seat and spilled some of his drink to his pants accidentally, his crotch now wet and sticking to his skin. You raised your brows as you noticed the large bulge. He wasn’t even aroused yet. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, although you weren’t sorry at all. Pulling out the handkerchief from your pocket, you made sure you looked at him under your lashes while you patted down his groin. The man’s eyes widened at the action, but he didn’t pull you away. He swallowed rather audibly, his hands coming up to circle at your wrist. You noticed the tips of his ears had gone red, and you felt a smirk making its way into your face when you saw his arousal constricting uncomfortably against the fabric.

“That’s enough, thank you,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning your flushed cheeks. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and without breaking eye contact, you pulled away from his grasp and clasped his hand to pull him towards you. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you an idea of what I’m capable of.”

In an excruciatingly slow manner, you wrapped your lips around his finger, sucking the digit into your wet cavern. He let out a quiet gasp at the sensation of your tongue licking the underside, your eyes closed in bliss as you felt the bitterness of sanitizers and the saltiness of his skin. It took almost all your willpower not to grind on his lap right there and then, because even though you were a rather kinky woman, you wouldn’t go that far. 

“Stop.” He commanded, and you opened your eyes languidly before pulling him out with a lewd ‘pop’. “Do you think I’m the type of man who sleeps with strangers?”

You laughed. “I think you’re the type of man who can fuck me so well, but hmm… you’re a little boring, don’t you think?” Feigning disinterest, you turned away from him, ordering another shot. “Must be a mistake. I forgot men like you were too up in their heads to know how to make a woman feel good.”

He was practically fuming as you downed another shot, a sign that your plan was working. Next thing you knew, strong arms had wrapped around your waist and you let out a small yelp as he heaved you up effortlessly, until you were on his lap, and boy did he look angry. A choked moan left your mouth as he roughly grabbed your hair to expose your neck, and you felt even wetter at the thought that he could fuck you right here in the bar, out in the open for everyone to see. Public sex was something you’ve never tried, but now it seemed like a good idea. 

“You think you’re funny?” He raised a brow, his other hand trailing under your shirt to squeeze your breast through the material of your bra. You felt him pinch your nipple and you bucked forwards, grinding against his hardness. It must have felt painfully good, because he dragged you towards him. His tongue licked a trail from your neck to your ear before he threatened lowly. “Don’t fuck with me, angel. I’ve had a rough week, and I can ruin you.”

“You sure about that?” You replied huskily, palming him from underneath you and feeling his erection grow harder. “Because I’m no fragile thing, and I doubt you can give it to me how I like it.”

He hummed against your neck, and you felt your core getting wetter when he mumbled angrily. “And if I prove you wrong?”

“Then you can do whatever you want to me,” You supplied, glaring at him through the lashes. “Now, are you gonna make me wait, or are we gonna fuck?”

That seemed to trigger him, because soon he’s shoving you off his lap and pulling you outside to the back door. You faintly heard the bartender shouting at you to pay, but you were too clouded by your arousal that you let this nameless man drag you out to the dark alleyway where he wasted no time in slamming his lips to yours. You moaned when your head hit the hard bricks of the dirty alley, the searing touch of his fingers under your shirt as he pulled the cups of your bra down and tugged at your nipples enough to send sparks of fire running along down your centre. You were wet, so fucking wet, and you yearned to feel his touch right where you wanted him most.

Your hands had a mind of his own, and he growled into your lips when you blindly unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down. When you palmed his erection and slipped your hands inside his boxers, you ran your finger against his slit and felt your fingers become coated in his pre cum. The stranger grunted, his tongue slipping inside your mouth before the wet muscle collided with yours in a heated manner.

“Fuck.” You moaned into his mouth, pumping your hand up and down his shaft slowly. He pulled away with his chest heaving up and down to look at where your fingers tried to wrap around his thick girth.

Shit, you knew he was big, but you didn’t expect him to be this big. The thought of his cock stretching you out and filling you so deeply had you removing your hands away from his cock to take off your stupid fucking leather pants that clung so tightly to your legs. He laughed at your obvious struggle, and you glared at him. Soon enough, his laughter died down when you shimmied out of your pants, completely speechless as he eyed your bare pussy.

“You haven’t been wearing underwear all this time?”

“I had a feeling I’d meet you tonight,” You joke, but he doesn’t find it funny because he growled, his hand cupping your sopping cunt that left you breathless.

His roughness took you by surprise that you found yourself clinging to his bicep for dear life. It wasn’t long before he slipped two fingers inside, scissoring his way through to your walls to stretch you out, and your head fell back against the wall as you felt him pump into you in an addicting manner that had you seeing stars at the back of your vision.

“You’re so wet already,” He commented, his head diving forwards to suck harshly onto your neck that has you moaning lewdly. You realized this stranger had his fingers shoved deep into your pussy in a dark alley, and while no one could see you at this place, you were sure someone would see the both of you if they passed by. And shit, how fucking hot that was. “That look on your face,” he noticed, “Are you turned on by the thought of getting caught?”

“Aren’t you?” You shot back, and you pushed his hand away when you felt that familiar coil in your belly.

He made a sound of protest that you ignored, and you pulled him down by the tie to attack his thin yet pillowy lips that were red and bruised by now. Your hand snaked between the both of you as you pulled his cock out and lined him against your centre, his breath coming out in stutters when you wrapped one of your legs around his waist as his tip entered you.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” He moaned against your lips before slamming his hips forward until he’s penetrated you into the hilt, and you let out a small whimper of pain. He was big, bigger than you’d imagined. Ypon seeing the look of discomfort in your face, his hands came up to caress your face worriedly. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You bit your lip, finding it oddly sweet he could be so gentle even when he was tearing you apart. “I’m fine. Just give me a minute, you’re really big.”

“Okay,” He nods, resting his forehead against yours, his hand still carefully holding you by the waist to help keep you up.

You realized you weren’t able to see his face well under the neon lights of the bar, but seeing him now just a breath away, you realized he’s really good looking. His eyes were warm and kind looking despite the evident lust pooling through those greenish-brown orbs, and his gaze was piercing as he seemed to assess your features back. His once gelled hair had now fallen into stray chunks, adding more to his striking features.

You were momentarily lost in his eyes and gentle touches that you forgot he still had his cock deep inside you.

With that thought, you moved your hips forward, your walls suffocating his length. He suddenly shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring “Oh, fuck” under his breath. You didn’t need to say anything else, the clenching of your walls against him was enough for him to know he could now fuck you senseless. His eyes snapped open, any signs of the previous warmth he held had completely vanished into thin air as his hands hooked behind your knees, silently telling you to jump, and you wrapped both your legs around him.

“I’m not going to go soft and slow with you.”

“Wasn’t asking you to,” You teased, feeling smug at seeing such a composed looking man slowly losing himself in you. He growled at your remarks, and your teasing ceased when he pushed you firmly against the wall, his hands gripping your waist tightly that you were sure you’d get bruises the day after as he rammed into you at a relentless pace.

You were a mess in his arms, your breasts bouncing and slapping your chest up and down as his cock reached places inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He stared at it as if hypnotized before he leaned down, capturing one nipple and lapping at it like a starved man.

Your hair was now sticking onto your skin uncomfortably, uncontrollable moans flowing from your mouth that had fallen open at how each of his strokes seemed to hit everything perfectly. He was stretching you out, filling you so well that each snap of his hips had you tugging at his hair, hard, and he grunted at the pain of you pulling onto his strands. As if encouraged by the action, he pulled out all the way until only his tip was left inside. You stared at him in bewilderment, and he smirked at you arrogantly.

It was just about the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, and it didn’t help the sweat from his skin made his shirt clung onto him tightly, giving you a teasing view of strong pecs underneath.

You only had a few seconds of rest before he slammed his hips harder than the first, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. He was good, so good, and your wetness coated him so well as if urging him to fuck you harder. The sound of your moans, his low grunts and the wet sounds of your arousal dripping onto his length was so dirty and erotic that when he hit your sensitive spot, you cursed loudly as your head fell onto his shoulder. 

Your back grazed the brick wall rather uncomfortably, but all you could focus on was the sweet torture his cock was abusing your core with. He snapped his hips in a deliciously tantalizing manner, your eyes shut tight as he grunted lowly when you clenched around him, a sign you were close. Judging by the way his thrusts had become erratic, it seemed like he was too.

“Baby, I’m close.” He announced, beads of sweat falling onto his cheeks. He looked fucked out with the way he was gritting his teeth as he continued to slam into you, his hips coming forward hurriedly as if desperate to reach his high. You knew you didn’t look better. Tears threatened to escape your eyes at the way his tip was brushing against your sweet spot abusingly, over and over again. You were so lost in the pleasure you felt that he tapped his fingers against your cheek whimpering at the sensations flooding through.

“I’m close,” he panted, “Where can I cum?”

“Inside,” You breathed out, a moan falling from your open lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You nod tiredly, looking down to see how your pussy engulfed him completely. His length disappeared back into you after every withdrawal, as if your womanhood didn’t ever want him to pull away. And from the way he throbbed inside you, it seemed like he didn’t want to pull away either.

“Oh fuck,” He rasped out, his thrusts stuttering as you felt him release inside you, the warmth of his cum filling you up so good.

“Shit, shit, shit,” You mumbled in the crook of his neck as he spilled himself inside you, feeling your combined essence dripping out of your hole. He groaned, riding the both of your highs before you felt him soften inside you. You were both breathing heavily, and you were taken by surprise when he kissed you again, softer this time. His hands crawled up to the nape of your neck as he nibbled on your lower lip, and you groaned into the kiss, thinking if there’d ever been a time you were taken in a such a debauched manner yet kissed so sweetly.

Your memories came up with nothing.

The contrast of him passionately kissing you like a lover had you feeling lightheaded from how he had roughly fucked you, but you basked in the warmth of him anyway. He smelled faintly of sweat, sex, and his cologne, a scent you think you could get used to forever. His hair was soft as you threaded your fingers through it, and he sighed in content at the feeling of you gently massaging his scalp, his large hand now cupping the side of your face.

When he pulled away from you, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes tired and drooping. The silence of the night engulfed you both as he stayed inside you, and then you both started laughing out of nowhere. He helped you get down safely, his hand still gently placed on the small of your back before he slid out of you completely.

You bit your lip to restrain yourself from fucking him again – the sight of his soft member leaving the warmth of your slick folds shouldn’t have been so erotic. You didn’t want to pull away from him – at least not yet – so you reached forward, tucking his cock back into his boers as you ignored his heated stare at the back of your head. Soon, you pulled your pants back up, wincing at how wet you were down there.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not missing the way he stared at how your tight pants outlined your pussy. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uhm, I’m sorry about… that,” he gestured to your camel toe, and you scoffed in amusement. “I can take you home, if you’d like.”

“No thanks, I’m good,” You shook your head, smiling innocently at how his shoulders seemed to drop in disappointment. “Although I must say, it’s gonna be hard to walk home tonight…  Doctor Zayne.”

The sight of his eyes widening and his mouth falling open almost seemed comical to you. “Wh-what? How’d you know my name?”

You grinned, showing him his wallet and work ID card. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish before he puffed his cheeks out instead. He patted his pockets in a frenzy, and at the realization that it was indeed empty, you threw his belongings back to him sloppily, his arms flailing out before it fell to the ground. He mumbled a ‘thanks’ at your way. You nodded at him and walked away, letting the darkness of the night swallow you before he called you out. You paused in your steps.

“Wait!” He shouted, although you failed to hear the sound of footsteps. “Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“I don’t think I need to,” You smirked over your shoulder, mockingly saluting him on your way. “I have a feeling we’ll meet each other again.”

Zayne was left in the dark alley that night. As much as he wanted to run after you and take you home, he had a strong feeling you didn’t want to be followed. Once you’d been completely swallowed by the darkness, he jumped in his spot when the back door flung open harshly, and he was met with the sight of a pissed off looking man. It was the bartender.

“Well?” He huffed, “Aren’t you gonna pay?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your girlfriend left without paying,” He hissed, shoving the receipt into the smaller man’s face who looked lost. His eyes skimmed over the amount you’ve drank, grimacing when he saw the hefty price. “Pay up. Now.” Zayne cursed inwardly, handing over a wad of cash to the bartender’s outstretched palm before going home with a frown. 

He should have known you were trouble. One look at your predatory gaze, and the way you sized him up like he was your next meal, he fell right into your trap. He kicked a bunch of pebbles in frustration, hating the way he felt so attracted to you the moment he landed his eyes on you. It didn’t help that you were the exact embodiment of sexiness either. You were confident, and carried an aura that made him feel like you could’ve conquered the world should you wish. 

In conclusion, you were the exact image of his desires that came to life, and now he faced the consequences of falling into the trap of a seductive temptress. 

He just hoped never to see you again. 

Weeks passed by since the last time he saw you, and Zayne refused to admit that he went back to the bar several days in a week in hopes of seeing you again.

But after the fifth night that the bartender sent him pitiful glances, he never came back once informed you hadn’t returned ever since. He didn’t even know why he should care, he didn’t even know your name. And yet… he found himself wanting to know more about you. Call it simple curiosity or just him being plainly attracted to your mysteriousness, he didn’t care. One thing he could admit though, was that he thought you were quite the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. The way you held yourself so surely and knew exactly what you liked was enough to bring out the primal side of his being.

But, those thoughts aside, you just screamed trouble.

And Zayne worked hard to get where he was now. He still remembered those hellish nights he was unable to sleep when his midterms were coming up, because medical school was just both a curse and a blessing at the same time. It was even harder since his parents had passed away long ago that he had to support himself at such a young age. His childhood – or lack thereof – had been a blur of working two part time jobs to afford his school fees and stacking his mini fridge of bottled coffees just to survive that night. Because of his hectic routine and his dedication to his dreams, Zayne never got to date anyone.

It wasn’t because he didn’t look good either, no, it was quite the opposite.

He’d received multiple confessions in medical school from wonderful girls who all came from good families, but one look at their preppy attitudes and cookie cutter perfect image, he knew he would never fit in. Sure, they were nice, sweet, and smart, but most of his classmates in the resident school had only gotten in because they were born privileged. They would never understand his struggles. And so, with a polite smile, he turned them all down and focused on his own future instead.

He just wanted to pave a better life himself first. Love could come afterwards.

Zayne just never thought it would come in the form of a leather jacket clad woman with blood red lipstick who hauled a man twice her size on her shoulders, cursing at him for being ‘a stupid fucking dimwit’ into the emergency room, exactly on the time of his shift. Zayne shot upwards from his seat in a flash, rounding the counter and making his way towards you and your friend, who he realized was sporting a gunshot to his thigh.

At the sight of your most recent – and undeniably the best fuck you’ve had – wearing a black button-up hidden under a white coat, paired with squeaky white shoes, a stethoscope hanging around his neck and just looking so damn fuckable, had you laughing with glee. 

Never mind Luke who was groaning in pain. It was his fault for getting shot anyway. You told the younger male multiple times not to play around with guns and not to challenge your shooting skills because you’d always be better than him. But he refused to back down due to the fact he was so butthurt over it and dragged you into the shooting fields, only for the gun to slip into his sweaty hands, successfully shooting his own leg in the process.

Yeah, you didn’t care at all.

“Doctor Zayne!” You exclaimed gleefully, pushing Luke’s heavy weight off of you until he fell to the hospital bed. You ignored his screams in pain. “What a coincidence!” You glanced at your friend, “Luke, look how lucky you are. Zayne’s in tonight. I heard he’s the best doctor.”

Luke eyed you both, watching carefully as Zayne only nodded at you in return before he proceeded to pull out several doctor shit you had no idea with, but they did seem familiar. You only recognized them briefly from those times you had to dress your wounds yourself, and it wasn’t exactly a memory filled with sunshine and rainbows. 

“Okay, I’m going to inject you with some anesthesia,” Zayne’s voice cut through the air, and you watched in awe as he proceeded to do everything flawlessly. 

Soon enough, Luke, who was always a wuss when it came to pain, had already passed out by the time the raven-haired doctor had plucked out the bullets and proceeded with the stitching. Not wanting to interrupt, you jumped up on the nurse’s counter, swinging your legs back and forth with your palms placed flatly behind you before assessing the place.

It was a rather big and well known hospital, so you were confused that Zayne seemed to be the only one around. The only sound that filled the air was Luke’s hiccupping followed by snores, and you scoffed at him, eyes trained on Zayne’s skillful fingers working on the sutures flawlessly. You noticed his brows were furrowed in concentration, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and you tipped your head to the side in admiration.

You didn’t understand what was so endearing about a professional man concentrated on his work, but you found yourself enamored by the mere sight of him. 

Somehow, he managed to look absolutely perfect under the bright fluorescent lights of the emergency room, and you thought it was unfair. He wasn’t even dressed to impress. His white coat was wrinkled, and only now does it make sense when he told you he’d had a rough week the first time you met him. Dark bags were under his eyes, and you squinted at the sight of several headache pills and cups of coffee neatly placed behind the counter where he once sat, waiting for patients who needed his help.

Guilt immediately washed over you. 

Here, Zayne probably spent day and night saving countless lives. Maybe people like him would have been able to get more rest had people like you not existed. 

Your train of thought was cut off when you suddenly felt a warm hand caressing your face, and you froze under Zayne’s touch. Looking up, you swallowed when you realized his face was close to yours – way too close – that you could see the worry present in his gaze.

“What happened?” He asked softly, concern coating his dulcet voice that you couldn’t help but feel small inside his arms. You blinked. Wait, what? Felt small? You almost wanted to laugh, because you both led different lives. In your world of kill or be killed, you were definitely on the ‘kill’ side. People like you weren’t weak, so you sat up straighter, tearing yourself away from his soothing touch as you flashed him a lazy grin.

“Don’t mind him, he was just being stupid,” you gestured to a passed out Luke.

Zayne shook his head, pulling off his medical gloves before throwing it into the waste bin. “He could have been in a critical situation if you hadn’t brought him here earlier. Your friend got shot in the leg, and it was dangerously close to his bones. A single shot to the leg, especially the thighs, could have been deadly. The bullet could have exploded into tiny pieces until it flowed into his bloodstream, and those little shrapnels could have killed him,” he sighed tiredly, placing his arms beside your body. Even with you sitting on top of a counter, Zayne still managed to be taller than you. “Your friend could have died tonight. He needs to be confined for further treatment.”

Your eyes almost popped out its socket, “What? No! We need to be back by tonight!”

“I can’t allow that,” he shook his head, “He needs proper recovery.”

“But–” you started, pausing in your words when he gave you a look that told you you didn’t have any way out of this. But you had to get Luke back to the base tonight before Jenna woke up. You didn’t want your boss finding out his best asset and the newest fresh meat he assigned you to train to end up with a medical record accessible by your enemies, unless you wanted to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Then, an idea flashed into your mind, and you looked around for the possibility of anyone walking into you. Looking back at the sexy doctor hovering over you firmly, you flashed your most seductive smile, running your hand down his chest before purring, “–you can always have exceptions, right?”

Zayne glared at you, although he didn’t stop you from looping your fingers to his pants. If anything, he’s a little grateful for the distraction. He realized you were much better at waking him up than any of those energy drinks and coffee. No, you set his nerves on fire, and he started to panic when you jumped off the counter and went down on your knees.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” He whisper-hissed, stopping you from doing whatever you were about to do. “My co-workers are just on their break, they’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” You chuckled arrogantly, looking up at him innocently. The image of you looking absolutely cute while at eye level with his now growing arousal was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. “With how good I am, you’d come undone in two minutes.” And I’d get Luke out in no time, you thought to yourself.

Zayne scoffed when he realized you had a knack for bruising his ego, and you laughed harder when he shoved his pants down until his erection sprang free, his cock bending towards his stomach. You smirked at the fact he was already hard, his head now red and dripping with precum. You felt proud it didn’t take much to turn him on. 

Oh, you were gonna have fun indeed.

“Two minutes,” he growled, his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as his hips thrust forward, his cock slapping against your cheek. The essence of his arousal making your face feel sticky. “You’ve got two minutes to make me cum.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

Not wasting a second longer, you placed your hands on his strong thighs before taking him into your mouth. Zayne moaned at the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock. You licked the underside of his cock, feeling every protruding ridge and vein before you started sucking him. Bobbing your head up and down, Zayne closed his eyes in pleasure, thrusting forward when you hollowed your cheeks around him.

“Ah, fuck,” He grunted, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and your gag reflex clenched around his head. It was a beautiful sight to behold, seeing him lose himself in the feeling of your mouth around him. You sucked him off earnestly until you pulled him out with only his tip left inside, his muscles quivering under your touch. 

Feeling that he was close, you took him all the way back in until you’re gagging on his length again. Tears started to fall on your cheeks at how he had completely taken over. Soon enough, you felt him grow bigger inside you until you knew he was about to cum. He pulled away, or more like tried to, because you placed your palm flat on his ass to keep him right where he was. You started choking and gagging on his cock when he harshly thrust inside your mouth, his warm seed spurting on your tongue.

Zayne fought back another groan. He struggled to breathe from the orgasm you gave him, and you opened your mouth, showing him that his cum was all over your tongue before you made a show of swallowing it. Your lipstick had also smeared, the red smudged all over your face. Deciding to tease him further, you wrapped your lips around him one more time, leaving lipstick stains all over his semi hard cock.

“W-wait,” he tried to push your head back, “Sensitive – I can’t–”

Determined to clean him off, you licked all around his member, still tasting the saltiness of his cum coating your tongue before pulling him out with a wet ‘pop.’

You stood up and brushed the dust of your knees, thankful that your skinny ripped jeans hadn’t been stained the slightest. Zayne pulled his pants back up, glaring at you when he saw you trying not to smile at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” you said, “Did it feel good?”

“I came in a minute and a half, what’d you think?” He snapped, and you laughed at how moody he seemed. Zayne rounded the counter before typing something away at his computer, not sparing you a glance as he asked for your friend’s personal information. He looked up at you with a raised brow. “I said, what’s your friend’s name?”

You crossed your arms against your chest. “You know, I blew you off. Let me off the hook just this once,”

“What?” He asked, bewildered, “What part of your friend needs proper recovery don’t you understand? He needs to be under supervision.”

“We have a resident doctor,” you informed, “He just wasn’t around today, but I assure you he can take care of him. Come on, Zayne, it’s only right that you repay me for making you feel good, no?”

“You made me pay for your drinks at the bar. I think I deserved that blowjob.”

“Oh, come on,” you pouted, trying to do the puppy eye method and wishing it would work on him. It didn’t, and you sighed in defeat. “I can repay you next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he hissed, and you groaned, exasperated.

There would be a next time because you wanted him as much he wanted you!

Desperate to make him change his mind, you tugged your crop top down to show that again you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Zayne’s eyes immediately clouded with lust at the sight.

He scoffed, though he doesn’t tear his gaze away from your perky buds. “Did you think you could bribe a professional with your gorgeous body?”

“Of course,” you replied confidently, pushing your shirt back to its place before walking beside Luke, ignoring the way Zayne eyed your tattoo weirdly. You shook him awake, but he only mumbled and slapped your hand away, and you sighed. Zayne was still watching you both curiously from behind the counter. You gave him an ‘ok’ sign before slapping Luke hard on the face, to which he immediately bolted awake.

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?!”

“That’s not how you talk to your senior,” you scolded him while helping him get up with his arm looped around your neck. Turning to Zayne, you winked, “I have a car, don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’ll get taken care of.”

He hummed with a frown etched on his face, not liking the thought of you alone in a car with a different man. “Will you tell me your name now?”

Luke was halfway passed out again in your arms, and you grinned cheekily at the hot doctor who was patiently waiting for your answer.

Finally, you introduced yourself, “But try not to say my name too much.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re gonna get hurt if you do.”

Just as fast as you appeared and always gave him something to remember you by, you disappeared.

It was starting to infuriate the doctor by now, at how he knew the curves of your body but otherwise had no idea of who you were. He knew you weren’t a normal citizen like him, and he’s pondered several times if maybe you were a criminal. It made him wince; the thought of falling for a criminal out of all people was enough for him to be thrown off balance.

Every morning, he woke up at the thought of your smile, of how adorable and innocent you seemed when you just laughed to your heart’s content and your eyes formed into little crescent moons. He also remembered the way you smelled, a mix of roses and something entirely soft and feminine. He grew afraid of forgetting your sweet scent that he even thought of not showering before he realized how undeniably disgusting that was. And so with a disgruntled thought, a hard on that made him jack off in the shower at the thought of you, and very confused feelings, Zayne decided to throw himself into work and just forget about you completely.

Things were much better that way anyway.

Desperate to ignore how his mind was heavy at the thought of you, of how he craved to hold you instead of touch you, he took on several shifts that absolutely left him drained by the end of the day. He was basically sleeping in empty operating rooms by now, the stench of rubbing alcohol and metallic steel comforting to him. He was so overworked that even nurses and several doctors had become worried for him.

“Zayne,” Nurse Jude addressed the dark-haired doctor who had a clipboard cradled to his chest, well on his way to looking like a zombie right now. “I think you should go home. You don’t look too well.”

Zayne only smiled gratefully, always finding comfort in the quieter nurse’s presence. Jude was a calm and gentle steady energy, and he secretly envied at how he seemed to have everything balanced. If he remembered correctly, he still managed to have the time to take his girlfriend out on dates despite also basically living in the hospital. Jude was well rounded and had everything he wanted and needed, while Zayne just felt left behind for silently chasing (not really, he hadn’t seen you in months) a woman who he was certain was a criminal. 

Or worse, a murderer.

He really needed to set his mind straight.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he lied, checking the patient’s vitals while Jude places the suggested meals for their recovery. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Is it a girl?”

He paused on the act of scribbling down the rates, his hand reaching up to rub his neck awkwardly. “Is it too obvious?”

“A little, yeah,” Jude laughed before patting him on the back comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it too much, I’m sure it’ll work out in the end.”

Zayne smiled sadly. The likelihood of even meeting you again was highly unlikely, what even more the possibility of you liking him the same way he liked you. But he nodded anyway, not wanting to make Jude feel bad. “I sure hope so.”

“It will,” he insisted, and the spectacled nurse gives him a small smile before making his way out. “Oh, and I talked to Nurse Jang, she said she’ll gladly cover your shift for you. Go home, Zayne, you need to rest.”

Zayne smiled, silently asking himself why he couldn’t have just been a woman and dated someone like Jude instead. He was smart, attractive, and caring. 

He shook his head in disbelief, bidding the patient deep in slumber a farewell before following his co-worker out the hallway to retrieve his stuff and go home. Jude and Nurse Jang both gave him bread in hopes that he would get his much needed rest soon. Since Zayne was feeling like taking a stroll in the night, he pocketed his car keys and walked all the way to his apartment.

The stars were out and bright, and he stared at them astonishingly, wondering if you were looking at the same sky as him; if you saw the stars the way it was now. He stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling cold and lonely in the empty night as his mind started to get swarmed by thoughts of you. 

He really didn’t understand why he felt attracted to you, all he knew was that there was this… spark, or connection, however corny that sounded.

And he knew he just wasn’t after your body – although he would love to fuck you again, in his bed this time if you’d allow him to take his time with you – no, he was completely drunk at the thought of you.

It was weird, how he didn’t even know your last name, your age, or what you really did for a living. And yet, he didn’t care about all those, all he knew was that he wanted to be with you. He wants to spend time with you and get to know you better, and hell, he wants to pamper you with so much love that he doesn’t understand fucking why. Frustrated, he runs his hand down his face with a groan, unable to get his mind off of you. Maybe it was because you had a good sense of humor, and you always kept him on his toes and there was just something about you that let him know he had to cherish each and every moment.

With a sigh, he stopped looking at the stars because it only reminded him of how you were probably somewhere, unsafe. He didn’t have the slightest of how you were and he was worrying for a complete stranger. 

Too lost in his own thoughts, he failed to hear the sound of a gun clicking. Zayne froze when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressing against his forehead, followed by a gruff voice cutting through the silence of the air.

“Give me your money.”

Zayne gulped, pocketing his wallet immediately at the sight of the man holding him hostage come at eye level with him. He gulped at how his left eye was closed due to a scar that ran until his chin. Obviously, this guy had seen some real things that Zayne doesn’t even want to be involved in, and his heart was picking up a mile a minute. He was about to hand his wallet and cellphone over, making sure he still kept his work ID, when a feminine and a strangely familiar laughter joined in the scene.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Carefully, Zayne turned around, only to see you leaning against the wall lazily with a cigarette dangling by the edge of your lips, somehow looking bored at the scene. If he wasn’t about to piss in his pants right now in fear of getting his brains blown out any moment, he would have admired you openly. He swallowed at the sight of you wearing nothing but a lace black bralette under a washed denim jacket, paired with ripped skinny jeans and untied combat boots. Still so pretty, even when his entire body warned him not to get too close.

Like the first time he saw you, you screamed danger, and Zayne found himself unable to look away.

“Go home, little girl,” the man snapped, “This isn’t a place for youngsters like you.”

You sighed tiredly. “Whatever. Just let the man go, and learn a little lesson from him. If you want money, you gotta work hard like everyone else.”

A tick seemed to go off in him, because soon Zayne was being shoved aside. He shouted your name loudly when the man had his gun pointed at you instead. However, you only grinned at him, cocking your head to the side in pure amusement. Zayne watched as the man lowered his gun, fingers stuttering as realization dawned on him.

“Are you part of the–”

“Exactly, sweetheart,” you smiled sweetly, taking his fingers off from the weapon. “Now, run along before I kill you, okay? Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

Tha man nodded before scurrying away, and Zayne pushed himself up to his feet to place himself beside you. Your eyes were still trained on the offender’s retreating form. Zayne was about to pull your attention to him when you suddenly raised the gun with a squint, the sound of a gun firing echoed through the night. Zayne gasped, disbelief written all over his face as the man fell down.

You turned to him with an unreadable expression. “I didn’t kill him, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t kill?!” he asks, enraged. “You still shot someone!”

“I know Jason, he’s gonna run for a little bit and come back to you. Did you really think I’d risk you getting killed when I could have prevented it?” Your words came out with spite that Zayne didn’t respond to, watching as you stashed the gun into the back pocket of your jeans. “Thought so. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Jesus, Zayne,” you said exasperatedly, “Out of all the places you could’ve taken a detour in, you had to choose a bad neighborhood, didn’t you? I’m taking you home, and that’s final.” Zayne started to protest, but one glare from you had him shutting up. Once sure he had given in, you showed him your trademark carefree smile, bowing down mockingly. “Lead the way, sir.”

“I live close by,” he rolled his eyes, and you fell into step with him easily. 

The two of you walked in silence, your hands swinging back and forth obnoxiously as your legs took longer strides to keep up with him. When he realized he considerably walked faster than you did, he slowed down until you were right next to him, and you were taken by surprise when he looped his hand through yours, eyes staring directly ahead. “This is just so you don’t fall behind.”

“How sweet,” you commented cheekily, reaching up to peck him on the cheeks. Zayne, not expecting the innocent gesture even in his wildest dreams, whipped his head so fast to look at you. He looked so ridiculously cute that you couldn’t help but kiss him again, making sure your lips remained to his skin a little longer than the first. “You look so adorable.”

His cheeks burned at the way you looked at him, your eyes completely youthful, innocent, and just looking at him with so much adoration that he thought… he wasn’t going to deny it anymore. He liked you. 

Upon rendering him speechless, you giggled before tugging him forwards to walk home. Zayne turned away from you to hide a childish grin.

The walk back was peaceful, and the mere scent of your rose scented perfume was enough to soothe his nerves as well. Maybe it was because he knew he was safe, and that’s why he felt comfortable, but one look at you humming a tune to yourself, he realized he was calm and at peace because you were safe. 

You obviously led a life that would be hard to explain to him, and while he wanted to get to know you better, he also didn't want to push you into divulging information you wouldn’t want to.

For now, he was just glad to see you and have you by his side again, and he was going to try to elongate this moment for as long as he could.

And so the stoic doctor walked slowly on purpose, and you, being observant and calculative as ever, knew exactly what he was getting at and walked slowly as well. It was a little chilly, and your lack of clothing didn’t help, so you pressed your body flush against his, your head naturally finding its place into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but his strong arm encircled your waist. You didn’t find it in yourself to complain.

You just missed him.

And he missed you too, although no one would ever say that out loud.

“How was work?” You asked softly, “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, turning slightly to press a kiss to the top of your head before his apartment came into view and you both walked upstairs. “I couldn’t get my mind off this amazing person, and I had to work a lot to forget her.”

You chuckled breathily from his hold, and Zayne smiled when he felt the vibrations of your chest rumble to his skin. “Maybe it’s much better to forget her. She’s just bad news, you know.”

“I don’t think I want to forget her,” he admitted, now standing in front of his unit. Zayne loosened his hold on you, his hands finding its place on your shoulders before bending down to look at you. “I think… I want to keep seeing you.”

A smile made its way to your face, but it was more confused than sad. Shrugging his hold off of you, you lifted your denim jacket to show him the intricate dragon tattoo that ran until the top of your breasts. “I’m a criminal, Zayne. I’m part of an underground gang, and, well… as much as I want to see you too, I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

“We won’t know until we’ve tried,” he insisted, and your eyes lit up in amusement at how he seemed intent on getting to know you better. It warmed your heart in a way that you’d never felt before, and your smile only grew bigger, perhaps even a little shy when he continued speaking. “Can I – feel free to say no, but please don’t – take you out on a date?”

Your eyes squinted so hard from how large you were smiling, and really, how could you say no? Fishing your phone out from your pocket, you typed in his name next to a heart emoji before handing it to him. Zayne laughed in disbelief as he texted himself through your number and saved his contact information. 

“I’ll text you the details. When are you free?”

“I’m a busy woman,” you told him, cocking your head to the side teasingly. “But if it’s for you, I’m always free.”

Zayne’s face flushed. “Wow, okay, I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You rolled your eyes, walking away from him with a wave of your hand. “I’ll see you around, Doc. This is my first date, so it better not be disappointing.”

“It won’t!”

And Zayne really did keep to his word. Only three days after you walked him home, your phone buzzed from its place rather loudly that you accidentally knocked Luke’s gun out of his hold. A shot rang through the air and a scream tore its way from his throat. You rolled your eyes when you saw that he almost shot himself again.

“I swear, Luke, I’m not taking you to the hospital again because of your stupidity.”

He had the audacity to look appalled. “You made me drop my gun!”

“Tough luck,” you teased, grinning as you read Zayne’s text. He was asking if you were available tonight, and you immediately replied back saying you were. “Okay, tell the boss I’ll be out tonight. Don’t ask why. I’m meeting someone.”

“What does that me–hey! You know Jenna will kill me if she finds out you went out again!”

“That was kind of the plan,” you laughed, twisting your car keys into your finger before running away from the younger male who had gone pale in fear. “But don’t die tonight!”

You expected someone like Zayne to take you to a quiet, upscale restaurant for your first date, the kind of place where you could sit across from each other and talk softly about your lives over candlelight. But instead, you found yourself in a small, crowded theater, where the seats were a little too close together and the air was thick with anticipation.

As you settled into your seats, you couldn’t help but smile at the contrast between the setting and the man beside you. Zayne, usually so composed in his button-ups and scrubs, had opted for a simple black hoodie and jeans, his hair down and slightly tousled. The look softened his serious demeanor, and you found it endearing.

“I didn’t expect you to pick a horror movie,” you teased as the previews began to roll.

Zayne’s lips quirked up in a shy smile, but he kept his eyes on the screen. “I thought it’d be...interesting,” he replied, the hesitation in his voice betraying his nerves.

“Interesting, huh? You sure you can handle it?” you nudged him playfully.

“I’m a doctor. I’ve seen worse things,” he said, though the faint tension in his posture suggested otherwise.

As the movie started, you noticed how intently he was watching the screen, his posture straight, his eyes focused. The suspense began to build, and you could feel Zayne tensing beside you. The protagonist on screen was slowly inching closer to the inevitable scare, and you couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Zayne. When the jump scare finally hit, the theater erupted with screams, and Zayne flinched, his grip on the popcorn box tightening. He let out a quiet exhale, his eyes darting to you as if to gauge your reaction.

“Are you okay?” you asked, leaning closer to him.

He gave a small nod, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I’m fine. Just...not my usual choice of entertainment.”

You grinned, finding his honesty charming. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me anyway.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He shifted slightly in his seat, and his fingers brushed against yours on the armrest. It was a subtle touch, but the warmth of his skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

As the movie continued, Zayne remained composed, though you noticed how his hand eventually settled over yours, his grip gentle yet reassuring. It wasn’t overt or flashy, but rather a quiet sign of affection that made your heart swell.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he turned to you. His expression was soft, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you expected,” he said, his thumb grazing your hand as he spoke.

You shook your head, smiling up at him. “Zayne, this was perfect. I didn’t need anything fancy. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

He looked relieved, and as you both stood up to leave, he helped you to your feet, his hand resting lightly on your back as you exited the theater. The cool night air greeted you, and you felt a sense of calm between you, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words.

“Do you want to grab a coffee or something?” he asked, his voice low, as if he was still feeling out the moment.

“Actually,” you said, stopping him as you turned to face him, “I was thinking we could just...walk for a bit?”

His eyes softened, and he nodded. “I’d like that.”

As you walked side by side, the city’s lights twinkling around you, Zayne reached for your hand again, this time with more confidence. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I have to admit,” he said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “I was really nervous about tonight.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “You? Nervous?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes fixed ahead. “Yeah. I’m not exactly great at this...dating thing.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him, your heart warming at his confession.

When you reached a quiet spot away from the bustling streets, Zayne slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. There was something in his gaze, a mix of shyness and determination, that made your breath catch. “I know I’m not the easiest person to read,” he began, his voice steady despite the slight flush on his cheeks, “but I want you to know that...I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me.”

You smiled, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad too, Zayne. Really.”

He hesitated for a brief moment before leaning in, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, meeting him halfway. The first touch of his lips was soft, almost tentative, but as you responded, he deepened the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The kiss was everything you hadn’t expected – gentle, warm, and unhurried. It wasn’t about passion or fireworks, but a press of lips where you familiarized yourselves with each other’s taste. When you finally pulled away, you found yourself smiling shyly at each other.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he gazed at you.

“Not in so many words,” you replied, your voice teasing but soft.

He smiled, a rare and genuine expression that made your heart skip a beat. “You do. You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Zayne held your gaze for a moment longer before he finally stepped back, still holding your hand as you continued your walk. The night was calm, and with Zayne by your side, everything felt just right. He took you to a diner afterwards where you feasted on burgers and milkshakes. It definitely wasn’t anything out of the norm, but it was perfect nevertheless. He refused to let go of your hand under the table, and although you told him he’d struggle to eat with one hand, he just shook his head with a smile and insisted he never wanted to let you go.

You should have known that night would be just one of many.

And it was never easy.

Of course, being a gangster had never been on par with dating a doctor, and even though most of your things are now placed in his apartment, it still wasn’t easy. You often left without a word, only coming back near the verge of dying, and Zayne would always hold back his tears as he took care of you. 

It wasn’t easy because you kept coming back to him and your old life, two worlds that never blended well together, because he was the preserver of life and you were the bringer of death. It wasn’t easy when it always felt like you had too little time that made Zayne always had to cherish every moment he had with you. It wasn’t easy for you, and definitely not for him, yet Zayne never asked you to stay. 

Instead, he always watched you leave in the middle of the night, silently hoping you’d come back safely.

Today was not one of those days.

Jenna had sent you off somewhere far away to handle one of her deals for her, and it didn’t end up looking pretty when your so called client tried to run away without payment. Needless to say, you got stabbed in the gut, but you came home with bags of money anyway. It was a miracle you were able to drive yourself all the way back without passing out. 

Just like when Luke accidentally shot himself, the resident medic wasn’t around, and you found yourself limping to Zayne’s apartment. It was a little ways past midnight, and he was still awake, back hunched over a few papers of his patients. Upon hearing the sound of rapid knocking he knew was yours, he immediately cleared off his table to take care of you. Just like how he always had. 

And like always, you looked at him dreamily, because he was the only light in your life. Your heart swelled with your feelings for him, because whether he had you bent over the counter as he fucked you from behind or you were just cuddling him – or moments like now where you were barely breathing and your gaze was unfocused – he always looked at you the same way.

He always looked at you like he loved you, and you knew he did.

“I missed you,” you croaked out, coughing up blood afterwards. He shushed you before proceeding to stitch you up. “I’m sorry I’m always gone and you keep having to take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his hand momentarily cupping your cheeks.

You looked up at him with so much affection that made him wonder if you were hurt at all, and those were one of the things about you. You had your own demons, yet you always seemed bright and carefree, and he sighed. 

Zayne blamed it on that cursed hippocratic oath that always made him come to your beck and call. But one look at your smiling – although bloodied – face, he realizes he doesn’t mind being your personal doctor. 

Like always, he was just glad you were safe. 

You soon passed out in his dining table, your clothes stained with blood now seeping through and making a mess of his furniture. But he didn't mind, and instead carried you bridal style to his room where he lets you rest. He peeled off your dirty clothes away from your body before draping you his oversized yellow hoodie, his heart stirring with worry and happiness at seeing you in his bed, in his clothes, and in his arms.

To him, that was enough since he knew there wasn’t much you could give him, so he cuddled next to you, careful not to add pressure to your wounds before falling asleep.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been out for, but by the time you’d woken up, you realized you were in Zayne’s bed, dressed in your favorite hoodie of his. Groaning, you covered your eyes when the sunlight streamed in harshly. Zayne stirred from beside you. You let out a little gasp when you felt his erection pressing against your ass, his husky morning voice groaning in your ear.

“Baby,” he moaned, his hands lifting your – his – hoodie up as his fingers trail your skin up to your breasts. “Can I fuck you?”

“I,” you started, pausing when your throat goes dry. “Yes, please.”

Zayne groaned as he scooted closer to you, his hair starting to tickle your neck. You sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers pushed your panties to the side, the tip of his erection teasing your folds before he pushed all the way in. “Fuck,” he moaned lowly, “Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”

You only chuckled lightly as your lips gripped him tightly, because only now do you remember the previous incident you were in. True to his words, Zayne was careful not to hurt you, his hands finding home in your hips instead of your waist. You shuddered at the same time he let out little grunts next to your ear. You wished you could turn around to see how his face contorts in that way when he’s about to cum, but he doesn’t let you. His hand started to grip your breasts under the material of his hoodie, making you close your eyes in the feeling of him filling you again.

It had been too long, way too long, and you missed him. 

Your body was sensitive, that even though his thrusts were slow yet deep, the constant action of his cock plunging into your depths had you mewling. Zayne began to whisper your name, and that was enough for you both to reach your peaks. He came inside you with his thrusts getting sloppier by each minute, and you shut your eyes close as his warmth started to drip outside your pussy. 

Zayne pulled out, gently turning you to your side to face him. He was looking at you softly, a shy smile decorating his sleepy features as he muttered out, “Hi.”

“Hello,” you greeted back as softly as he did. “Did you miss me?”

“So much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he soothed, sitting up before helping you to do the same. “Just promise me you’ll spend the night.”

Now that you could promise. “Sure. Jenna let me off the hook anyway.”

Zayne’s eyes lit up at the thought of that, and soon you both made your way to his kitchen where he started whipping up breakfast. You winced at the bloodstains you’d left, making a move to wipe it off, but he reprimanded you to just sit down and do nothing. You apologized when he cleaned it up rigorously. He only winked at you, and you moved to plop yourself on his counter as you watched him cook. Zayne let the eggs boil for a while, and you watched him cross legged with your face cupped in the palms of your hands. He turned to stare at you, his face unreadable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, feeling self conscious as you touched your face. “Do I have something on my face?”

He shook his head, walking towards you and placing his arms beside your body before he kissed you. “You just,” peck “look,” peck “so,” peck “cute.” By the time he moved on to peppering your face with kisses, you were giggling in his hold, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist .Zayne laughed at your poor attempts in trying to move away from him. 

“Stop!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, “You’re gonna spoil me!”

“Of course I’ll spoil you.” He stated, his hands keeping you in place to stop you from moving. You gave in to the strength of his hold and fall limp, the both of you falling silent as you just stared at each other looking lovesick fools.

“Kiss me again.” You mumbled, hands playing with the collar of his shirt. Zayne bent down to kiss you again.

“As you wish.”

You lost yourself in his lips for what seemed like the hundredth time since you met him, and it was his smell that completely intoxicated you. Zayne smelled like safety and comfort, and you were both laughing through the kiss when he suddenly pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noticing the panicked expression of his face.

“I forgot the eggs!”

You laughed as he ran to his boiled eggs, whining once he saw the eggs had already exploded. He tried to redo them again after scolding you for always distracting him, and the rest of the day was spent cuddling next to each other on his couch while lazily surfing through Netflix. The day passed by in a blur until the sun had already gone down by the time Zayne noticed you yawning in his arms.

He kissed your cheek, hands lazily making circles at your hip. “You wanna sleep, baby?” You hummed in response, and he carried you effortlessly back to his bed before snuggling under the covers with you. 

You played with his hand, a small smile gracing your face as you placed it flat against his, and realizing his hands were bigger than yours. Zayne had several moles in his fingers that you loved, and he watched in silence as you admired his fingers. Moments like this were what he lived for, to see you happy and comfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from uttering his next words.

“Will I ever have you?”

You paused, dropping his hand to the bed. Silence consumed the air as your eyes grew distant and Zayne started to wonder if what he said was wrong.

“One day,” you promised quietly, looking back into his eyes with a kindness you’d always kept hidden as your fingers started to comb through his hair. Zayne closed his eyes at the gesture. “You will. Just wait for me when you do.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

You didn’t answer back.

Zayne wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see you for the next two months. 

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

“I know, and you love me anyway.”

Zayne playfully glare at you, and you laughed, only to choke afterwards because of the pain that shot down at your body. Groaning, you rested your head back into the pillows, his scolding voice now back. “What happened to you?”

At his question, you closed your eyes contentedly, blindly pulling his hand back to your lips. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” He snarled, “You got shot–”

You opened your eyes, looking at him with so much happiness that you found difficult to contain. “What matters is that I’m all yours now.”

Zayne stilled, pausing in the act of bandaging you up. You expected him to be happy, but you almost sat up in worry when a tear fell from his eye as he stared at you grimly. “Zayne, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he cried, wiping at his tears before finishing your bandages up quickly and crushing you into a hug, still careful not to hurt you. “I just–are you serious?”

“Yeah! I’m free from the gang.” You pulled away to look back at him, wiping his tears away even as he laughed to say the words he’d always been waiting to hear, “I love you too.”

How fitting, you thought, that Zayne was a doctor, because he had stitched up all the broken and missing parts of you together until he made you whole. And it was his stitches and kisses that brought you back to life.

[bruciemilf]

One thing I wanna do more is include Battinson's complete lack of filter.

That scene at the funeral where Falcone tried to push that 'your father saved me for a reason' fantasy, which Bruce ended very quickly with his '' He took the Hippocratic oath" line

It can sure read as snarky, and in some parts, it was, -- Falcone's antourage surely saw it as that, -- but Bruce was completely serious.

It wasn't a diplomatic move on his part, but that's why it works. 'No filter' doesn't generally entail being rude and bold, it's your thoughts being faster than your mouth without considering how it'd sound out loud

Not to mention, Bruce wouldn't process sarcasm the same as everyone else. He's good at dishing it, for sure, but we've seen he's completely oblivious to obvious social ques,

If somebody were to be like, " haha maybe YOU'RE batman" him, the go to reaction would be " haha good one"

Bruce? Would start shaking on the spot. It's raining nerves out here. " No I'm not." With a blank face, " I'm not. I'm scared of bats. I hate bats. I wish bats never existed. I wish YOU never existed. Im sorry. Goodbye." Before taking off in a hurry.

[bixels]

your tags about mercy being one of the most complex characters- YES!!! theres a log in one of ana's gun inspection modes where it mentions how mercy DESPISED her healing magic/science being used for evil on the battlefield, and there's an ingame line of her saying "power boost working as envisioned!" and it just reminds me how she was lied to, forced unto the battlefield when in reality she just wanted to help people with her inventions and thats the only way they said she could do it. AGH. Hippocratic oath!!

Which is why I never seriously bought into Moicy (I get the hatefucking though) as a serious ship because realistically, Mercy would absolutely abhor Moira with every fiber of her being.

This is gonna be a really hot take for gay Overwatch-knowers, but. I preferred when Moira didn't exist as a character in the story and her whole selfish philosophy of 'progress at any cost' existed as Mercy's darker side. I was really interested in Mercy's 'holier than thou' demeanor (her battle uniform is an angel costume, for god's sake). I found it so interesting that Mercy was the one who turned Gabriel into Reaper (it was assumed canon until retconned by Moira). Or that Mercy "saved" Genji by installing ninja stars into his knuckles and turning his body into a killing machine (which is why, imo, I don't think Mercy would ever be in love with Genji. He'd be a constant reminder of the power she holds yet tries to ignore, the ways she's unbelievably fucked her patients up in the past. A reminder that she's not as good a person as others believe her to be). I'm personally really into the idea that Mercy has two sides in her: the side who truly cares about healing people and the side who's so full of hate and anger for the perceived enemy that she unconsciously fuels her rage into the people who rely on her. Turning people into living weapons to "fix" them and fight her battles. Reminder that she watched her parents walk out on her as a child to volunteer medical work for the Omnic Crisis, only for them to die and leave her orphaned and alone. Is she doing this to take care of people, or is she doing this to avenge her parents (the official site says it's only the former, but I think that's boring as fuck)? I think it can be both at the same time, but sometimes she prioritizes one motive over the other. I think the "angelic, cheery healer" is a persona she instinctively uses to veil her selfish motivations, to everyone and to herself. Reminder that she was also lauded as a savant, a prodigy, a teenage genius who literally revolutionized medical science before she could legally vote. You cannot expect me to believe that she's truly altruistic, that everything she does is for the betterment of humanity and out of the goodness of her heart.

I don't think she's a malicious person at all, just someone who doesn't want to admit she has ulterior motives.

Anyways, she's not actually this interesting in the game or the story.

[mypoisonedvine]

Oh em gee 23 with Bucky!!!!!

23: "It's hard to get used to." "What?" "Being someone that someone cares for..."

not me writing the most wholesome shit like i'm not gonna sandwich this with some nasty as hell requests lmaoooo

warnings: touch starved bucky, hurt/comfort, description of injuries, doctor!reader (but very vague), way too fucking fluffy tbh like who am i?

The silence was comfortable; you were getting more familiar with it, at least. You couldn't be friends, or coworkers, with someone like Bucky without being alright with very long stretches of quiet.

But you weren't totally sure if you were friends or coworkers-- sort of both, sort of neither. Technically, he was your patient, but this was hardly a traditional clinical environment; first of all, you were dressing his wounds while sitting on his bed, like you always did. For obvious but unspoken reasons, he didn't react well to a sterile medical environment with those cold metal tables and bright lights...

Second of all, you were at least friendly with each other, and talked outside of those times where he needed attention (uh, medical attention that is), even if you weren't sure if you were close enough to call him a friend. You wanted to know more about him, but he was pretty cagey, and you didn't want to be overwhelming; but you also didn't take it too personally, it wasn't like he was very close with anyone that you could tell, outside of Steve.

And third of all, your heart was racing as your eyes scanned the muscles of his back, but you know... that was sort of inevitable. Of course you felt guilty for ogling him a little bit, but technically the Hippocratic oath never said anything about... admiring.

He winced a little when you pressed the gauze against one of his scrapes; "Sorry," you mumbled, breaking the long silence finally.

"It's okay," he replied quickly.

And then the quiet again; the next time you broke it, it was because you noticed him shaking slightly. You narrowed your eyes, ignoring it at first (maybe he was just shivering because he was cold with no shirt on?), but it got more obvious a second later... he was tense, like he was trying to suppress it, and you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

He only nodded, saying nothing, and you tried to lean around him to see his face-- but he looked away, keeping the back of his head towards you.

"Bucky, I need to know if you're okay," you insisted.

"M'fine," he whispered quickly, but his voice was breaking-- maybe it was a little aggressive, but you grabbed his face and turned his head towards you, finding his eyes red and tears on his face.

"Oh my god! Are you in that much pain?" you yelped. "Where is it hurting? Why didn't you tell me!?"

"N-no, I'm fine," he insisted again, "it's not-- I can hardly feel it, stop worrying."

"How can I not worry?" you laughed nervously, tilting your head. "And how can you not feel that? You took some serious hits... but that's not the point! Can you tell me what's going on?"

He sighed a little, looking up at you tenderly. "You just... you take such good care of me."

You wanted to answer, it's my job, but that would've been a lie. Well, it would've been technically true, but not really accurate, if that makes sense. Then you wanted to answer I care about you, but that would've been a little too accurate.

You didn't say anything, you were too stunned by the way he was looking at you. "It's hard to get used to."

"What?"

"Just... being someone that... someone cares for..."

Your heart sank-- actually, your whole body seemed to, as you slumped a little bit and sat lower on the bed to be at eye-level with him again. "Oh, Bucky..." you trailed off as you sighed, reaching up to wipe away one of his tears.

He quickly pushed your hand away-- not hard or anything, but immediate-- and frowned a little. "Don't," he mumbled. "It's not-- we aren't..."

"What?" you asked again gently. He looked down and shook his head. "Bucky, please talk to me."

"Don't touch me like that," he continued again, quieter, "if I can't... if it doesn't mean anything."

You blinked quickly, trying not to hope for too much just because of your own feelings. "Okay," you breathed. "I won't. Not if it doesn't mean anything."

He looked at you again; and you slowly reached up, and wiped the other cheek with your hand.

You were only so brave because of how he pressed against your touch, how he shut his eyes and leaned into it and took a deep breath in through his nose; only because he looked so relieved by it did you have the guts to move closer to him, straddling your legs around his lap.

He opened his eyes, of course, when you did that, and looked up at you with the most beautiful expression-- surprise, sure, but thankfully not discomfort or shock as you'd feared. Your other hand came back to his other cheek so you could hold his face gently; both his hands came up and braced yours, keeping them there. Relief was an understatement-- you felt so much at once, and even though your heart broke for him, it was so amazing knowing you could actually help him. Knowing maybe you could treat more than just the wounds that you could see.

He hugged you a little suddenly, a little tightly, as he buried his head against your chest; you sighed slightly and wrapped your arms around him, too, letting yourself fully relax on top of him.

You did bring one hand up to brush lazily through his hair, you weren't sure why but it just felt natural to do. You felt more of his tears wet your shirt, and one of his hands clutch a little tighter at your back.

"It's okay," you promised under your breath. "You're okay..."

This was the longest silence yet, it was impossible to say how long you two stayed like that. It felt like forever, yet it went by quickly.

"I can't be here all night," you finally found the courage to mumble to him at some point. "I have to go, you know, eventually-- other people are injured--"

"I-I know," he sniffled weakly, pulling his reddened face back from your chest. "I know, but... will you come back?"

You'd never heard him sound so... small? You smiled and tilted your head. "Of course," you offered, brushing some hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. "I'll always come back."

[daisies-daydreams]

Can I request a oneshot where Keegan has a really bad migraine with a fever and the 141 gets a little jealous when Y/N who's a doctor takes care of him

Doctor's Orders (Keegan P. Russ x F!Doctor!Reader)

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Doctor!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Swearing, Depictions of Medical Examinations, Jealous!141, Implications of Violence, Different POVs Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Hello there! I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to reply to your request, but I hope you enjoy it! 💖

You sighed as you stepped into your office, the welcoming sight of your Keurig drawing you towards your desk. It wasn’t the routine medical check-ups that got you…it was your patients. If you hadn’t taken the Hippocratic Oath, you’re pretty sure you would’ve strangled them. One after the other, they never failed to flash you a cheeky grin, throw a wink, or say some cheesy pick-up line. 

You popped a new pod into the Keurig before sinking into your swivel chair. You rubbed your temples as you took a deep breath, the stress melting away as you felt the sunlight pour in through your window. A knock on the door suddenly stirred you from your thoughts.

"Duty calls," you muttered. You sat up straight and maneuvered a bit in your chair. “Come in,” you said. You raised a brow as the door creaked open before a familiar face appeared. 

“Good to see you, Russ,” you smiled as you slid your hand around the handle of your warm mug. Keegan was one of your favorite patients. Despite being curt, he was always respectful towards you. You frowned when you saw his unusually rosy cheeks and a sheen of sweat covering his face. 

“Russ, what’s wrong?” you asked as he sat in the chair across from you. The man’s dark eyes looked strained as he clenched his jaw. 

“I’ve got a killer headache, doc,” Keegan mumbled. “Feel like I have a pretty crappy fever, too,” he added as he folded his hands together. You scanned him up and down. Usually you refuse to see patients outside of office hours…but since he’s not really being a bother… 

You set your piping drink onto your desk before taking a forehead thermometer from one of your drawers. You saw his eyes soften as you stepped over, your white lab coat swaying a bit as you came near him. 

“Let’s have a look-see,” you smiled gently. He nodded, only to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut. You turned on the thermometer before scanning his forehead. You frowned when you looked at the small screen. 

“Well, your temperature is a bit higher than average,” you said. Keegan remained quiet as you pulled out a small flashlight. “I’m going to shine these in your eyes for just a moment,” you said. You examined his pupils, watching as they shrank in the light. “Hmm…doesn’t look like you have a concussion,” you thought aloud as you turned off the flashlight. “Are you experiencing any other symptoms? Shortness of breath? Sore throat?” you asked as you pushed the buds of your stethoscope into your ears. Keegan shook his head as you placed the diaphragm over his sternum. Your brows furrowed as the sound of his rapid heartbeat pounded in your ears. 

“Your heart’s beating awfully fast,” you frowned. You noticed his cheeks darkened another shade of red as you slid the metal piece to another part of his chest. “Take one deep breath for me,” you said as you took a deep inhale. Keegan followed you, his lungs sounding just fine. You hummed before checking his back. You flushed a little at the feeling of his muscles flexing beneath your simple touch. You cleared your throat and quickly stepped back. 

“I’ve had migraines before, but never one with a fever,” Keegan spoke up. You turned your head towards him and nodded. 

“Are you prone to sinus infections?” you asked as you splayed a wooden depressor over his tongue. The man blinked before slowly nodding. 

“‘Tis the season,” he said with a shrug. You chuckled a little before tossing the tool into the bin. 

“Well Russ, if you start to feel worse, come back and see me. But for now, I want you to rest, drink lots of fluids, and take plenty of ibuprofen and some mucus relievers. You can find them over the counter,” you said. Your breath hitched as he suddenly stood up, his chest nearly brushing over yours. 

“Thanks, doc,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he gazed into your eyes. You nodded as you smoothed your hands over your lab coat. 

“Of course,” you smiled with a nod. You walked him to the door, your brows arching as he paused in the threshold. 

“You know, you’re really good to us, (L/N). I’m not sure how us idiots would survive without someone like you looking out for us,” he grinned. Your throat tightened as you squeezed your hands together. 

“T-Thank you,” you mirrored his expression. Keegan gave a short nod, though you found it strange how quickly his demeanor shifted as he walked down the hall. You looked on before slowly closing your door. 

----

Keegan rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Of course his heart was beating rapidly: he was mere inches from the most beautiful woman on base. He whistled to himself as he walked out of the clinic and into the rec hall. He paused in the doorway when he saw the 141 crew staring daggers at him just as he entered. 

“Is there something on my face?” Keegan asked. 

“Nah,” Soap said as he crossed his arms and glanced away. The American man raised a brow. 

“Come on, guys. This isn’t Mean Girls,” he grunted. 

“Then why are you lying like Regina George?” Gaz huffed. Keegan’s eyes widened a little before he composed himself. 

“People can still talk if they have a migraine, Garrick,” he said. 

“Sure, but you’re acting awfully spry for someone who has a fever, too,” Ghost grunted. Keegan’s lips tightened into a straight line. The men around him wore the nastiest glares as he cleared his throat. 

“I got better,” he said as he glanced behind his shoulder. 

“God dammit, Russ. Playing the wounded gazelle gambit? Really?” Gaz groaned. Keegan simply shrugged. 

“Hey, it worked,” he said. The three men’s eyes widened. 

“What?” Soap asked. The American smirked. 

“While the three of you were drooling over (Y/N), I took a more…subtle, approach,” he said. “Simple as that,” Keegan added. 

“Let’s get him,” Ghost said as he cracked his knuckles. The Sergeant held up his hands. 

“C’mon, gents, are we really going to resort to violence over our doctor?” he asked. The 141 silently stared at him as they slowly approached. 

“I guess that answers my question,” he laughed before turning on his heel. 

Epilogue 

“What exactly did you do to get a black eye?” you asked with a worried expression. Keegan hissed as he placed an ice pack over his dark, swollen eye. 

“You know me, always taking a joke too far,” the Sergeant shrugged. He glanced over at the door to see the 141 scowling at him. 

“You poor thing. First you have a fever and a migraine, and now you’ve got a big bruise on your face,” you frowned. Keegan nodded slowly and winced as his eye throbbed. 

“Just my luck, right?” he chuckled softly. You sighed. 

“Seriously, I want you to go back to your quarters and get some good rest. Doctor’s orders,” you said as you pointed your pen at him before writing him a note. 

“Yes ma’am,” Keegan grins softly as he takes the note between two of his fingers. You offer him a small smile as he slips off the examination table. 

“Take care, Russ. And I better not see you for the rest of the day, okay?” you giggled. Keegan’s heart skipped a beat at your bubbly laugh. 

“What if I saw you for drinks this Friday instead?” he asked. You paused as your cheeks flushed a little. You bit your bottom lip as you squeezed the cord of your stethoscope. 

“Depends on where we go,” you said as you narrowed your eyes. 

“Your choice,” Keegan replied. Your face lit up a little as you hummed. 

“Alright, deal. But on one condition,” you said. Keegan’s eyes sparkled as he nodded. 

“Sure. What’s on your mind, doc?” he asked as he straightened his posture. 

“You have to promise to stop pretending to be sick just to come see me, alright?” you said with a wry grin. Keegan’s jaw dropped. 

So much for being subtle. 

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[rubydubydoo122]

What characterisation do Thomas and Martha Wayne have (in your opinion. canon is all over the place again)? And how would they interact with the Batkids?

I am a personal fan of Girlboss Martha Wayne, and Kind-soft Thomas Wayne.

The Kanes are a millitary family, so it just makes sense to me that Martha is tougher and all that. And Thomas followed the Hippocratic oath no matter what the circumstance was, so in my brain it makes sense that he was a lot softer.

Though, I don't think Canon Bruce would know Martha's tough side, because she was probably a total boy-mom, and coddled Bruce //pos, but as he grew older, she was definitely the tough love kind of mom. Pretty strict. Made him finish Med school.

idk why, but I feel like they would treat Dick more as their son, because Bruce started parenting him at a young age. Like, if Bruce said yes to Dick, but Martha said no, it was a No. If Dick really wanted something he knew Martha and Bruce would say no to, he would got to Thomas, and yeah.

With Jason, they definitely are more Grandparent-y with him-- at least Thomas is in full on Grandpa mode by the time Jason rolls up, but also, we know Jason's mommy issues. We know he would totally suck-up to Martha. So she would fill in that mother role, but more often than not, she would give Jason what he wanted If Bruce said No to something, Jason would ask Martha, and she'd say yes, and it drives both Bruce and Dick up a wall because Where was this leniancy when they were growing up? (Basically, what I'm saying Bruce is their oldest child, Dick is their middle, and Jason is their youngest-- but Jason is still more Bruce's child, just with more parenting help)

Cass is their little angel. They watch her ballets, and spoil her, and youngest daughter type beat. She's Grandpa's and Daddy's girl. And Martha would love finally having another girl in the family.

Idk if Jason dies in this world or not but either way, I think Martha and Thomas would treat Tim like the kid next door, just to put a bit of emotional distance, or they would treat him more like a grandchild. Though, I do feel like they would play off of Tim's unspoken bounderies.

Steph is the family-friend girlfriend. If yk what I mean. She's the one Martha's rooting for to eventually get with one of her children/grandchildren, and any person Tim, or Cass bring home will most likely never hold the place in Martha's heart reserved for Steph. (this also technically applies to Jason, but Jason never brings anyone home so ya)

Duke would be treated similarly to Tim, they would play off of his bounderies. Be Grandparent-y if he was accepting of that. I mean, Duke's parents are alive, just jokerized, so....

Damian gets the crazy stories from their youth Grandparents. I'm not gonna explain. He's their youngest grandchild. He gets the crazy stories that Blows Dick's mind because "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE CONNECTIONS TO THE MOB, BUBBE???!!!"

Thomas would be against getting any and all of the animals Damian asks for, but then spends more time with Ace and Titus, and Alfred (the cat) and Batcow, and GOLIATH than he does with any of his kids/grandkids. His excuse--"You all moved out! What else am I 'posed to do?"

I also feel like Thomas would play a different sport with each of the kids. Tim taught him how to skateboard, and now he's the coolest grandpa at the skatepark.

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 4.5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Jake’s had a weird day, to say the least. He’d started the morning still unsure if he was truly ready to trust Bugs with his story, or at least the portion related to his knee injury. She hadn’t pushed, she’d just sat there and listened to him. Sure she’d been adamant from the very beginning that she was just interested in helping him heal but he’d heard that song before from more familiar birds. There are only so many times you can get stabbed in the back before you start walking backward to avoid it. On top of that, what Bugs had revealed today just twisted the knife where it stuck. Not only had Dr. Hanover helped his coach guilt him into playing while injured, but he’d blatantly lied to Jake and possibly even his coach about Jake’s recovery timeline. The more Jake thought about it, the more he figured that his coach was probably in on the lie. Coach wanted Jake exactly where he envisioned him, regardless of Jake’s goals, his ambitions. He could have been the second coming of Wayne Gretzky himself and he wasn’t sure his coach would have cared. That was the thing about Coach (find a name you dolt), once he put you in a box and created his master plan for your life, your career, nothing else could get in the way of that. The problem was that he’d created a new box for Jake, but this time it was one that Jake hated. It went against everything that Jake was. And if he’d needed any more reasons to leave, now he had them.

But now he was here and he had Bugs. He could trust her. If he wasn’t already sure, he was when he’d seen her rage. She’d burned so fiercely he’d been caught between awe and fear, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He’d been on the receiving end of her anger a few times and while it had caught him off guard at first he’d grown to enjoy riling her up. But the righteous fire in her eyes as she cursed out Dr. Hanover, demanding to know what he’d done to Jake as if weighing his sins before delivering swift hard justice, was something he’d never experienced before. She wanted to fight… for him. He’d had plenty of physicians in the past who spouted the same Hippocratic oath bullshit but he’d never seen someone like Bugs. Maybe it was her youth. She was the same age as him, this was her first big gig, and she still had passion for what she did, unlike the crusty old men that Jake usually found himself in the care of. He wasn’t too proud to admit that his cock had twitched in his sweats at the display of such fierce loyalty, at the fire of devotion in her eyes. It made him want to drop to his knees and worship her, injury be damned.

Then she’d cried. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he remembers looking up to see the silent tears streaming down her cheeks, the pain in her eyes haunting him. Pain for him. Not pity, but empathy. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her. He’d settled for holding her hands. It was then that he realized that if he saw her cry again? Whoever was responsible for her tears was going to get put in the fucking ground. No one makes his Bunny cry. He clenches his fist around the weight in his hand unconsciously. He’s in the weight room working his arms since he’s on strict orders to keep off his leg until scans can be scheduled and tests can be run.

His phone dings and he glances at the screen to see Maverick’s name pop up. He sets down the weight to snag his phone from where it’s sitting on the gym phone next to the bench. “CYCLONE’S OFFICE NOW. HURRY.” The text is all caps and nothing like what he normally receives from his older coach. The warning sirens go off in Jake’s brain even as the rational part of his brain tries to convince him that nothing’s wrong. You mentioned that you were planning to meet with Mav and Cyclone ASAP to fill them in on his condition. They probably just wanted him to be present. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. He barely stops to rack the dumbbell before he moves for the elevator as fast as he can. His knee groans in protest, strapped into the brace Bugs put on it. He does his best to move quickly, smashing the buttons and succumbing to the waiting game. Most of the facilities in the arena were on the ground floor but Cyclone’s office was one of the few located on the second floor. He knows Bugs would chew him out for taking the stairs even if they were the quicker option. Finally, the doors slide open and Jake makes his way down the hallway towards the door at the end. He’s not even halfway there, however, when he hears the muffled shouting. His blood runs cold. The reason for the urgency in Maverick’s text suddenly becomes clear. Jake takes a shuddering breath before he starts running, knee be damned. He groans in thanks when he finds the door unlocked but the venom-filled words filtering from the other side are finally clearly audible.

“I KNEW hiring you was a mistake and look what you’ve done! You can’t even do your fucking job!” Jake’s heard enough. He shoves the door open so hard he almost takes it off its hinges.

“HEY!” His voice is pure fury. Cyclone is red in the face and leaning over his desk, an accusatory finger waving in your face where you’re sitting across from him. He turns his attention to Jake at the outburst. You don’t even flinch at the sound of the door and Jake’s heart squeezes in concern at your lack of reaction until he watches the harsh tension of your shoulders relax a little.

He storms across the room, stepping in front of you, doing his best to shield you from the wrath rolling off Cyclone. His finger is inches from Jake’s cheek. “This isn’t her fault, so don’t you go accusing her as if it is.” He’s furious, seething at the complete and total lack of professionalism his boss is exhibiting. He’s starting to wonder if he’s gone from the frying pan into the fire when Cyclone decides to make things worse.

“That’s not up to you, son. She’s fired, effective immediately. This is gross negligence, she’s lucky we don’t sue.” If he wasn’t so angry, Jake might laugh in his face at that. He’s no lawyer but he knows that there’s not even a hint of gross negligence at play when it comes to you.

“No, she’s not. The only way I’m getting treated is if she’s the one to do it.” Jake glares at Cyclone, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk as his eyes gleam. Cyclone hasn’t realized it quite yet but he doesn’t have control of the puck in this scenario, it’s confidently in Jake’s. “I know I’ve cost you all a pretty penny that you currently don’t have so not only can you not afford to fire me, but you need me to play, and the only way that’s going to happen is if my leg heals, and I’m telling you right now that that’s not happening unless Bugs is my physician. If you want to blame someone?” He tilts his head, daring Cyclone to try this shit again. “I’m feeling pretty good about my chances of suing my last physician and coach for a lot more than gross negligence.” He watches Cyclone’s eyes dart around nervously and Jake knows he’s won. “But Bugs and I are a package deal. If I stay, she stays, and I’m staying.” Some would call it cocky but Jake knows it’s not. It’s calculated, and ambitious. This is the Jake Seresin his opponents see on the ice. This is the Hangman, he gets what he wants and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Cyclone nods silently and Jake lowers his hackles, anger melting into concern for you. You’ve been completely silent throughout this entire exchange almost as if you’re not even here. He turns around to face you and his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Your eyes are glazed over, your expression vacant, and you’re completely checked out of what’s going on. He prays it’s because you’re barricaded somewhere safe, protecting yourself instead of lost in the walls of your mind. He leans in close, doing his best to take up your entire field of vision to shield you from your fear in any way he knows. He reaches out gently, afraid to startle you as he slides his hands into yours, using them to gently help you to your feet. Your body follows, and he’s thankful you still have control of your faculties, not that he’d hesitate to scoop you into his arms and carry you out of this hellhole himself. “Come on, Bunny. “ He whispers to you placing a hand on the small of your back. He keeps the other laced with yours as he slowly, gently guides you out of Cyclone’s office, ignoring the other two men in the room.

He knows he should get you somewhere private, somewhere safe before he tries to get through to you but he has no idea how long you’ve been in there and speed seems of the essence. He stops halfway down the hallway, turning to place his back to the office, protective, shielding you as he reaches to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your cheek. He searches your eyes, trying to keep the fear out of his own at the glazed-over and empty look in yours. “Bunny? Hey Bunny, come back to me, baby. I know you’re in there, Bunny, come on.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there whispering soft coaxings and reassurances to you. The worry rising in his mind and making his heart race threatens to take him under too because it’s been far too long when finally he watches the light return to your eyes. “There you are, Bunny. You okay, baby?” He can’t even be bothered with wondering when he started calling you baby. The relief rushing through him is overwhelming and he almost doesn’t catch you as your knees buckle suddenly. He throws an arm around your waist and leans the two of you against the wall, not trusting himself to keep you both upright. You nod up at him, still silent before you call his name and your voice is almost unrecognizable as it croaks out and he almost sobs at the sound. “Yeah, baby? I’m right here, Bunny.” He wants you to know that you’re safe now, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you, that you don’t have to be afraid of anything, least of all Cyclone.

“What were you- How’d you- Why’d you do that?” You trip over your words and Jake shakes his head gently. His heart aches at the idea that you wouldn’t expect him to defend you after everything you’d done for him.

“It’s like I said this morning, Bunny. We make a good team. You really think I’d let you get away when we’re just getting started?” Your eyes warm despite the apprehension he still sees in them and he feels the sudden urge to kiss that apprehension away. He’s taken aback at his strong feelings. When did that happen? You weren’t even his friend yesterday and now he’s putting his job on the line for you and wanting to kiss you here in the hallway outside his boss’s office. He doesn’t have long to consider these questions as the door down the hall opens again and you step out of his arms as Maverick comes walking towards the two of you. He has to fight every impulse to not pull you back to him, Maverick be damned but he puts on his most professional smile as he turns to face his coach just as he claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

[bigfan-fanfic]

The Clinic (Male!Reader x Mafia!Bucky and Steve)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for Your response to the captain and batdad ask has my creative juices flowing. The captain and iron arm Barnes are equal partners in a mafia, lovers and stuff. But then one of them, Bucky or Steve gets shot and separated from from the gang. Ends up going to a street clinic, with doctors who don’t ask questions. And naturally he’s fascinated by the doctor who helps him but calls him out for his arrogant attitude and takes no nonsense. Could you write a long story on this? Lmk please

Trigger warning blood, crime, mob au, etc.

"Babe."

"Yeah, boss?"

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

The Captain grips Barnes' chin in his fingers, tilting up his face. Barnes knows better than to resist.

Barnes is shirtless, the bandages wrapped around his chest and over his shoulder where he had been shot. His cheekbones still have the stitches in them.

The Captain is impeccably dressed, their states incongruous.

"What can I say, pal? It's hard to find a man that ain't afraid of me."

The Captain lets go, grabs the tumbler of whiskey in Barnes' hand, and tosses it aside.

It shatters in the fireplace and the alcohol makes the fire burst in a roar, but neither man hears it, because they are locked in a bruising, harsh kiss.

Barnes' hands frame the Captain's waist as the big man straddles him, clutching Barnes' face, his thumb brushing over the not-quite-healed gash in a way that is painful, but also grounding.

Cap growls, knowing that even with the pretext of healing, another man has touched what is his.

Only Barnes has been able to calm the raging beast inside him, this thing that makes him the most feared boss in the city, The Captain, and his iron right hand, Iron-Arm Barnes.

But maybe he's too hard. Like a callus that grows from overuse and dulls sensation. Maybe this sawbones has a tender touch Barnes has been missing.

For his part, Barnes has always been given to obsession. If the Cap had never had that growth spurt and hit the gym like a train crash, Barnes knew he'd have taken him. The little punk would be his precious little pet instead of his boss. But they would be together no matter what.

For Barnes, his blood wasn't his own, it flowed in the Cap's veins. So there wasn't a question of loving instead. They were parts of the same organism.

Barnes remembers you.

He dragged himself to your clinic after being shot, after his men had gotten away and he had been left for dead.

It's attractive, he won't lie, to see a man cool in a crisis. You get him on a table, strip him of his dirty and bloodstained clothes without a hint of lust or a sneak at his body, and you get to work picking shrapnel out of sensitive areas and stitching him up.

Barnes waits for a while after he wakes up post-op, knowing that he's not at full strength, before he reaches for his gun.

And you slip it out of his reach.

"No guns in my clinic."

"Do you know who I fucking am, sweetheart?"

"I don't care who you are. Bullets left at the door, or I let you bleed out on the floor."

"So much for the damn Hippocratic Oath."

"Fuck you. I have my license, and I don't ask questions. So maybe lose the attitude."

"Touché, sweetheart."

"Wipe that grin off your face. You lost a lot of blood."

"You gonna pump me full of morphine?"

"Bold of you to assume we have that kind of funding. The bullet passed through you clean. We're gonna need to change your bandages regularly for the next ten hours or so, and you're out of commission the next six weeks, at least."

"Really? I feel like a million bucks. A million bucks with a big hole in it."

You shake your head and take his gun, locking him in the room behind you.

"You gonna call the cops?"

Nope. That's not what you did.

"Name's Bucky."

You didn't tell him yours.

He talks incessantly, you answer some questions, remain silent for others

By the time the next morning rolls around, he's head over heels. "You're a shithead, Bucky. I don't wanna see you in here again, OK?"

He can hear the concern in your voice. You don't want him injured like that again. There's a connection there. A dangerous man, the battlefield angel.

And now he wants. And he wants his other half to want too.

They break their steamy kiss. It was a claiming, but Barnes is already owned.

"You still love me?"

"To the end of the line, pal. Never a question."

"You want the sawbones?"

"I'm yours, punk."

"Not what I asked."

"I want him."

"Then you'll have him."

"We."

The Cap grins. "I never met a guy with more heart. You think I have it in me to not get murderously jealous?"

Barnes kisses him. "Stevie, you're gonna be as head over heels as me. We're a team."

"I don't get you, pal, but I love you more than life."

"Then let's get us a sawbones."

[catholickedd]

if you need to be mean, be mean to me

(a hilson fic)

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a full-length fic!! feel free to criticize. i had so much fun writing this & i hope you enjoy it!

tags: @sillyhyperfixator @danexist @rapidlydecayingcorpse

chapter 1

“And the patient is still refusing to cooperate?” Dr. Gregory House asked, before shaking two Vicodin into his hand and downing them. It was too early to be dealing with this bullshit.

“Yes,” Dr. Cameron replied, her hands folded on the table. She looked exhausted. “He won’t agree to even the least invasive treatments or tests.”

“Then why does he even have a bed?”

“He collapsed in public and was brought here by ambulance. He’s tried to escape multiple times, but his condition is severe and we can’t let him leave in that state,” Dr. Chase explained.

“If he wants to die so badly, let him die, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know you love to ignore it, House, but there’s a little thing called the Hippocratic Oath that forbids us from things like that.”

House let out a loud and obnoxious sigh that dragged on for an almost awkward amount of time. He had to do everything himself around here.

“Let me deal with it,” he said exasperatedly, and walked out without elaborating.

The fellows exchanged a look. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Foreman muttered.

“Nothing we can do now except sit back and watch the show,” Chase replied, putting his hands behind his head and resting his feet on the table.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” said Cameron.

–

Wilson had been busy, but he’d forgotten what he was working on as soon as he heard House limping into the lobby. “Uh-oh,” he said with a small smile, putting down the papers he was sifting through and dropping into the easy rhythm he and House had, walking side by side. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look,” House said defensively.

“You have all sorts of looks.”

“Then what’s this one? Allegedly?” The last word was said with a sarcastic emphasis and a turn toward Wilson.

“The look when you’ve done something that’s going to get you in trouble and you want to tell me about it.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I haven’t committed one act of medical malpractice today.”

“I think just you being in the building is considered malpractice at this point.”

“That’s what they pay the lawyers for.”

“They must pay them pretty damn well.”

“Not enough, from what Stacy used to tell me.”

Wilson was about to make another witty remark when Cuddy’s voice cut through the hall and stopped the two doctors in their tracks. “HOUSE.”

“Uh-oh,” House said, raising his eyebrows performatively. “Somebody’s in trouble.”

Wilson rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You anesthetized a patient without their knowledge or consent, and then performed a series of tests the patient explicitly refused to have done?”

Wilson smiled to himself.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Who’s to say?”

“God, you are insufferable! Do you realize the consequences we could face for this?”

“Oh, don’t act like this is anywhere near the first time I’ve done something like this,” House said with a roll of his eyes, turning to continue his walk with Wilson. “It’ll all work out in the end. Trust me.”

“The patient’s mother is a member of the hospital Board.”

House froze. “She’s what?”

“She wouldn’t let you know because she didn’t want that to influence your treatment of the patient. Look where that got us. They’re holding a meeting this afternoon. Good luck getting past this one without a court summons.” Cuddy turned on her heel and walked angrily back into her office.

Wilson and House shared a look, House’s expression expectant. Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ll cover your ass again.”

House gave Wilson a wry smile. “Thanks, Jimmy,” he said in a half-sarcastic tone, and walked away.

Wilson watched him go for longer than he should have, then shook his head and got back to work.

–

The next time House saw Wilson, he was bursting through the doors of his office as House sat with his feet up on his desk. The sun was dipping down into the New Jersey horizon, and Wilson was dressed to leave in a black trench coat which swished behind him as he entered the room. His face was flushed, and he was clearly distressed.

“They’re reviewing both our jobs, House.”

House stood up, hands on the desk to balance him. “They can’t fire me,” he said, a hint of a hint of a waver in his voice. “I’m the best doctor in New Jersey. ”

“They’re spending too much on lawyers to keep you out of malpractice suits. They needed a unanimous vote to fire you, and I vouched for you because of course, because that’s what I do, and now they’re thinking about firing me along with you, and House, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I stick my neck out for you again and again, and for what? All you do is take and take and you never give anything back, and-”

“Why?”

“Why what? I-”

“Why would you do that, in the first place? You never had to do everything you did for me, but you did, you just kept doing it.”

“Because I’m a good person, House! Maybe you don’t understand that, but-”

“No. Even good people burn out after a while of giving to dickheads like me. There’s something else. There’s something you want.”

“All I wanted was to be kind! Maybe if I gave you what you wanted, maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable for once-”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Everything stopped. Wilson seemed to realize what words had just come out of his mouth and sat down on the couch, head in his hands.

“And I thought maybe…someday, you’d look at me that way, and I just kept waiting, hoping you would say something, but you never did.”

Silence. House’s head was cocked, looking at Wilson. When the silence became too much to bear, Wilson took his hands off his face and stood up.

“Well? Say something! Say anything, Greg!” He tried to hide the tears that were rolling down his face.

House looked away.

“Fine,” Wilson hissed through his teeth. “Goodbye.” And he slammed the glass door behind him as he left.

Wilson hadn’t noticed in the dim evening light, but House was crying too.

–

Wilson was drunk. Drunker than he had been in recent memory. He was lying on the couch with one arm and one leg draped over the back, open whiskey bottle in the hand that hung toward the floor. His apartment was dirty, he was wearing heather-gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and he felt like dying. He was listening to the Tallahassee album by The Mountain Goats through the headphones connected to his iPod, and for this reason he didn’t hear the knocking on the door the first few times it happened, and ignored it the next couple of times. When it became clear the knocker wasn’t going to leave, Wilson got up to open the door, hoping it wasn’t House and praying that it was.

Unfortunately, his prayers were answered. He was standing there, in the same clothes Wilson had last seen him in, leaning against the doorframe, head turned to the side. “Thought you’d never open the door,” he said, playing with his cane.

Wilson began to close the door.

“No, no, no, no, waitwaitwait-'' The door closed on House’s cane, which he had stuck in the gap. Annoyed, Wilson reopened the door. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Jim…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Wilson dug his nails into his palm. He’d probably fallen asleep on the couch and that’s where he was right now, dreaming this. Because it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be this perfect.

House took a deep breath.

“AndIneversaidanythingbecauseyouweremarriedandthenyouwerealwaysflirtingwithwomenandweweresupposedtojustbefriends, Ithoughtthatwas justhowpeoplefeltabouttheirfriendsbutIknewitwasn’t,andIlovedotherwomenbuttheyweren’tyoubecauseyouweredifferent, Wilson, you were everything, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, and-“

Suddenly Wilson was grabbing House’s tie and pulling him until their faces were only inches apart and they could hear each other’s soft breathing as their eyes met and locked.

God, the alcohol had made him bold. But how long had he waited to have House’s lips against his? How long had he waited for what he hoped was about to happen? He moved one hand to the back of House’s neck.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Wilson whispered, and pulled him in for a hard kiss.

————

The morning came far too soon, as it always seemed to. Wilson was incredibly hungover and had one of the worst headaches of his life.

But he forgot it all the moment he realized he had one hand pressed against Gregory House’s bare chest, his head resting near his shoulder, and his other hand loosely placed against his back. He felt the other man’s soft breathing, his chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm. He had a peacefulness that he had never seen in the waking House, and therefore Wilson lay back and appreciated it, appreciated that there was nowhere in the entire world he’d rather be than right here, House’s breath soft on his ear, chest hair rough against his palm.

“This is it,” he thought. “This is what I’ve been waiting for all this time.”

He lay and watched the sleeping man for a bit longer.

Wilson’s breathing patterns changing must have stirred House, because his blue eyes opened before too long. Realizing where he was (and who he was with,) he smiled and pressed a light kiss to Wilson’s neck and then to his mouth.

“You have terrible morning breath,” Wilson said.

“Good morning to you too,” replied House.

Wilson smiled. “Do you want coffee?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’ll make some.”

“Black, no sug-“

“I know how you take your coffee, House,” Wilson said with a smile and pulled on a t-shirt.

House watched him leave the room and lay his head back against the pillow.

Sometimes the world was good.

————

[y-rhywbeth2]

Part of me says that the Bhaal's temples are amongst the few exceptions to the Realms' version of the hippocratic oath temples are usually bound by, and the rural temples doing charity work for the local community thing.

That said it's a funny concept: Yes, they have to kill people, but they're also obligated to cure your wounds if you come to their temple doors wounded. Villages in the shade of the monastery where yes, they will help you fix your roof and give food and shelter to the old man who lost his home, but they also tend to put a dent in the local economy, what with ritually sacrificing passing travellers and all.

...You know what, I changed my mind. I can absolutely imagine these out-of-the-way, isolated little communities where everybody is secretly a serial killer who worships death and blood. It seems like a normal farming village when the adventuring party comes across it; the priests do their usual healing and blessings for sale thing... wait. Where did that merchant we were escorting go, and what's that giant skull on the wall? DM, I want to roll for religion.

[devilfic]

#✦✎: dc.

disclaimer: I do not consent to reposting of my work, credit given or not. if you’d like to share my work, please share direct links from my tumblr or my AO3. thank you!

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! ♡

✦: batman | battinson!bruce wayne

✎: series

where two are joined, relentlessly [completed] ↳ gotham city’s bound to discover it’s got a prized bachelor on its hands. selina kyle got it, you got it, and you’d quite like if it stopped there, thanks.

I. go, go, loverboy II. best-kept memories III. sick day IV. nameless V. ballroom blitz VI. favors for a friend VII. clean slate VIII. happy birthday, mr. wayne IX. from now on

right place, right time [ongoing] ↳ you took the hippocratic oath. you swore to help those in need. you didn’t sign up for a man crawling through your apartment window bleeding to death, but you’ve unfortunately seen worse.

I. right place, right time II. of niceties and awkward second meetings III. the tower IV. the hierophant V. curiosity killed the cat VI. do you trust me? VII. twenty-one questions VIII. whatever keeps you around vignette. strawberry candies IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down X. we don't fight fair

honeymoon [ongoing] ↳ in a gamble to retake his place as ceo of wayne enterprises, bruce wayne is strong-armed into an arranged marriage with you.

you finding out his secret identity is only one of his problems at the moment.

I. honeymoon II. marriage bed III. on the clock IV. sugar-coating V. sins of the mother

✎: one shots

got you ↳ the wayne family has a special kind of love language.

at the front steps ↳ eventually, the well will dry up. eventually, your patience will wear thin. eventually, you will leave him. of few things he was more certain. unfortunately, how much you loved him wasn’t one of them.

ghosts ↳ there’s a split second between dreaming and waking where the dream exists in the real world: the tender loss of a dream unrealized, and the relief of a nightmare severed. your nightmare is still clinging to you.

good grief ↳ you and batman have something special going on. obviously, people notice.

hard-knock life ↳ even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends… even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it.

nocturnal animal ↳ okay, maybe the caped crusader is a vampire. and maybe you just want to know what it would feel like for him to sink his teeth into you. it’s not weird.

✎: headcanons

bruce and reader’s mother/misc. headcanons [where two are joined, relentlessly universe]

love languages

bruce making a playlist for his partner

bruce with a gothic s/o

wedding headcanons with bruce wayne

sleeping headcanons with bruce wayne

✎: drabbles

bruce’s first family christmas with you and dick

reader with a villain mbti

dick finds out bruce is batman

bruce's diary [right place, right time]

bruce is a little stalker

✦: catwoman | selina kyle

✎: headcanons

jealous!selina kyle

✎: drabbles

secret admirer and roommate!selina

✦: the riddler | edward nashton

✎: series

boogeyman [hiatus] ↳ he is your shadow as much as you are his. one person, one reflection. you made a deal with the devil and this is the price you pay for redemption.

I. boogeyman II. no god in gotham

✎: one shots

first snow ↳ life wasn’t all pain, there was you. there was you.

✎: headcanons

young!edward nashton headcanons

[lavendeerlesbian]

We get the bare minimum of people acknowledging we exist that's not pandering. Literally all most of us want is access to medical care and the right to live our lives without violent threats or harassment. Of course there are shitty trans people, there are shitty people in every group whether they're marginalized or not. No one should be harassed for just trying to live their lives, but every fucking day I have to have someone remind me that they think I should commit suicide and they think it's fucking hilarious. Some celebrities saying "trans rights" isn't helping my safety, medical care, or material existence.

"Bare minimum of people acknowleding we exist" and yet every major company acknowledges and accepts trans people (and if you disagree you can be fired), every job application now asks for your gender identity and acknowledges nonbinary identities, women's DV shelters are forced to accept transwomen or else risk facing defunding and being shut down despite the fact that most women there are traumatized and need space away from male people, males are legally allowed to go into women's restrooms and sports and prisons where they assault and rape female inmates and staff, and y'all are also allowed to undergo "gender affirming care" despite the fact that it violates the hippocratic oath and is not safe. Hell, many insurances will even cover the cost of transition so either you're lying or you're misinformed. Literal children having some restrictions being placed on transition doesn't count, as children aren't allowed to make many other life altering decisions and you don't complain about those (no smoking, no drinking, no tattoos, etc.). And I haven't even gotten into how the trans movement is inherently homophobic as y'all are trying to redefine homosexuality as "same gender attraction" and call any actual homosexual person a "transphobic bigot and genital fetishist" in much the same fashion as homophobic conversion therapists. Literally the guy who came up with the concept of gender identity, John Money, was a pedophile who did sexual experiments on twin boys which eventually caused both of them to commit suicide. Look it up. Also look up Alan Turing and the Aversion Project.

It's not just "some assholes", your entire movement is built on trampling on the rights of women and LGB people.

I'm sure you genuinely see yourself as a victim because you have been told BY OTHER TRANS PEOPLE that trans people will commit suicide if they don't get affirming care instead of just better mental health resources. You know what LGB activists told gay children? "It gets better", not "Affirm gay kids or they'll kill themselves". Like. Doesn't that rub you the wrong way at all? Why are your activists encouraging children to kill themselves?

Acknowledging reality is not oppression, either. Even radfems acknowledge that you exist and that you identify as trans, but the reality is men cannot become women and vice versa. Also, radical feminism the ideology has nothing to do with suicide baiting people, so if radfems have actually told you to kill yourself on the basis of you being trans (doubt) then I want to see receipts.

[forsetti]

On Voting: Read A Civics Book And Do The Right Thing

Once again, like the swallows returning to Capistrano or the sun rising in the east, Democrats are in full panic mode about the upcoming Presidential election. They go through this ritual every four years because, as a group, they are really, really bad at political strategy and basic civics.

Of course, they will never admit this because they think they are intellectually superior to their right-wing counterparts. In many ways, this is absolutely true. However, when it comes to elections and voting, their political opponents are much, much better.

The phrase, “The perfect is the enemy of the good,” was most likely coined by someone who has watched the left’s political strategies and voting histories.

Voting isn’t American Idol. It isn’t about who performs best on a stage at any given moment.

Voting isn’t a reality show.

Voting isn’t about who looks the best on television. I know the OpticsPolice™ love nothing better than to over-analyze body language, voice modulation, and speech patterns… over content and context. However, it is easy and intellectually lazy.

Voting isn’t about who looks the most energetic. We all have known bosses or colleagues who talk loudly and quickly and almost to a person, they are full of shit. Being verbally active doesn’t signal anything positive. This should be especially true when it comes to governing. I don’t want a used car salesperson running the country. I want someone who is thoughtful and deliberate.

Voting isn’t who you’d like to have a drink with at a bar. You aren’t voting for who would be a good hang. You are voting for who will do a good job. If my kid needs their brain operated on, I really don’t give a damn if the neurosurgeon has a great bedside manner. I care about if they can do the job.

Voting is about who, of the options available, will do the most good. Even if you believe in the idiotic view that a particular election is between “the lesser of two evils,” less evil is ALWAYS better than more evil. There is no moral calculus where letting more evil win is the ethical choice. I can’t even believe this is a thing but it is remarkable how many on the left use this “argument,” to justify their bad choices and strategies.

Voting for president in America, like it or not, is a binary choice. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with the fact America has become a two-party system or want it to be something different. It is. Any political strategy that doesn’t accept this and act accordingly is about wish casting, not reality.

Voting for president is about the agendas, policies, and people they surround themselves with, as much or more than the candidate, themselves. The makeup of administrations matters. The right/wrong Cabinet member or department head can make a world of difference.

Voting is often not getting a chance to vote for your favorite candidate. Democracy does not guarantee you get the opportunity to vote for someone you really love. Sometimes your favorite candidate isn’t a good candidate runs a bad campaign or isn’t as popular with others the way they are to you. Just because your pet candidate doesn’t make the cut doesn’t absolve you from your responsibilities, as a voter.

The first rule of voting is the same as the Hippocratic Oath -First, do no harm. If your vote or lack of vote brings about terrible consequences, you’ve failed to do your job as a voter. If voting for someone won’t benefit you directly but will benefit others, especially the most vulnerable in society, that is the right choice EVERY SINGLE TIME.

The second rule of voting is a corollary to the first: “Vote the way the most vulnerable in coalition votes. The most vulnerable in your coalition have the most to lose in any election. They know who and what is best for their situations. If you aren’t a member of this group, you don’t and should act like you know what is best for them. Listen to them. Follow their lead, even if it means voting for someone not at the top of your list.

Voting isn’t just a right, it is a civic, moral responsibility. What you do/don’t do has consequences. Voting for Jill Stein, Gary Johnson, or Hammurabi in 2016 is directly related to a 6-3 conservative Supreme Court and all they have done to roll back progressive laws and polices in the past few years. No amount of linguistic or logical gymnastics makes this not true.

Voting isn’t about the individual candidates as much as it is about their worldviews. Even if you vote for the right candidate and they win, sometimes they are unable to do what they want to do and what you want them to do. Presidents are not all-powerful. They can’t just do whatever they want. It’s a complex, complicated system of government, intentionally so. The Framers didn’t want wild fluctuations in laws and how the government operates. They opted for consistency over the ability to change course quickly. This limits what a president can/can’t do. Sometimes all the political stars align and a lot can get done in a short period of time. If/when that happens, you want the person most willing to make those changes.

I don’t care who runs against Trump in November. If that person loses, they will be blamed for fascism taking over America when the ugly truth is those responsible are every single person who voted for him and those who didn’t vote for his opponent. That is how American politics works. It doesn’t matter if you agree with or like it, that doesn’t change the reality. If you don’t cast a vote for the Biden/Harris ticket in November, you are directly responsible for whatever consequences follow. There is no moral horse high enough for you to straddle to avoid the consequences and culpability.

[livwritesstuff]

i wanted to post this moment that i had ended up cutting out of this for the sake of brevity, because it’s just so soft and sweet and i didn’t want it to sit around collecting dust 

“Steve,” Eddie says, his voice rough from sleep finally breaking the calm quiet of early morning, “Would it weird you out if I got a tattoo for you?”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, still half-asleep himself and perfectly content to stay that way, wrapped in Eddie’s arms and relishing in the way he’s dragging his fingertips along the bare skin of Steve’s waist.

“Dude, we haven’t even been dating for two months.”

“Okay, but you also saved my entire fuckin’ life — and not even in a metaphor way. Like, you are actually the reason I didn’t bleed out in the Upside Down. I’d wanna get a tattoo for you whether we were together or not.”

“Oh.”

Every once in a while, like in this very moment, Steve remembers that he saved Eddie’s life. He knows it should probably resonate with him as a bigger deal than it actually does, but there was just so much life-saving during those three weeks in March of 1986 that it doesn’t ring as significant as maybe it should.

Like how he knows Eddie deciding to sacrifice himself to those bats actually ended up saving both Eddie and Dustin from getting caught in the fissure that obliterated Eddie’s trailer as it started it’s calamitous path across Hawkins. Like how Murray, of all people, and some flamethrower had saved a whole handful of them — in Russia and Vecna’s trance and the Upside Down — and like how Steve, Robin, and Nancy and their Molotov cocktails and sawed-off shotgun (and some pretty impeccable timing) had saved Max’s life in the end.

(And all of that is from just ten minutes out of four years’ worth of weird connections and freaky coincidences they still stumble onto to this day).

But, technically speaking, Steve did save Eddie when he chose to haul him out of the Upside Down, when he'd ripped his own shirt in two and demanded Nancy help him bind all the spots where Eddie's insides were dangerously close to spilling out, when he’d hammered on the doors of Eddie's terrified neighbors until he got himself a set of car keys, when he'd sped all the way to Hawkins Memorial and proclaimed Hippocratic oath before any staff could even determine who was bleeding out in their lobby.

Life is weird.

Steve’s is, anyways.

“Well…” he continues, “I mean, what would you get? Because if it’s something stupid like my face or my name in that dumb tattoo font — no way.”

“Have you no faith in my creative vision, dude?” Eddie replies, propping himself up enough for Steve to see the incredulous look on his face, “Obviously I would not get your face. A masterpiece like that can’t ever truly be done justice by—”

Steve smacks his bare shoulder.

“Honestly, I don't really know yet. I just know that I wanna do it at some point if it’s cool with you.”

It is cool with Steve, is the thing. Everything about Eddie is cool with Steve, cool in a way that feels like something he wants to spend forever with, but they haven’t even hit the two-month mark on their relationship yet, and his tendency to fall too hard too fast has messed things up before, so for now there are some things he keeps to himself.

(Although Eddie is asking about getting a goddamn tattoo for him, a permanent piece of ink etched into his skin forever, so maybe Steve doesn’t need to be quite so worried. Still, he isn’t sure and he really doesn’t want this to get messed up).

“Well,” he settles on saying, “Keep me updated, I guess.”

part 2, part 3