#you're WELCOME train attendants

[thepencilnerd]

seeing double

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader x michael "robby" robinavitch summary: A night out with two of your closest colleagues turns into something you never expected—or did you? Between cocktails, dancing, and old tension, the line between friendship and something more finally blurs. warnings/content: nsfw | 18+ MDNI, porn with a whisper of plot, pining, threesome (m/f/m), p in v + oral sex (m&f receiving), jack and robby are both soft/pleasure doms, protective/possessive/jealous tendencies, praise kink, no condoms but IUD use, domestic fluff, banter wc: 10k a/n: wine drunk alone on a friday night + one very rare instance of dreaming = this monstrosity, excuse any mistakes, not religious but i will pray for forgiveness for i have sinned because jfc—

It started like any other post-shift outing: exhausted, half-delirious, desperate for something that didn't smell like ammonia.

Robby had slung his arm around your shoulders the second you walked out of the ER, pulling you toward Jack with a bright grin. "First round's on me. Hell, second round too if you both promise not to ditch me for charting."

Jack had just smirked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "We'll see how intolerable you get after two shots."

It wasn't always like this—the three of you tangled together like gravity and inevitability. When you first joined day shift, it was Robby you bonded with. Quick jokes in the trauma bay, quiet coffee runs between codes, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from surviving the same battlefield night after night. His touches had started out friendly—a pat on your shoulder after a long shift, a gentle squeeze on the same shoulder when you nailed a tricky procedure—but over time, the air between you shifted.

Every glance lingered longer. Every touch sparked hotter.

Robby's hand on your lower back when you squeezed past him in the supply room, the way he’d always seem to find reasons to stand just a little too close, his thumb brushing yours when you handed him charts—it all built slowly, unbearably. You’d catch him staring sometimes, his round, dark-rimmed frames lingering a second too long on your mouth or the curve of your neck before he’d grin and deflect with a joke.

There was the night after a particularly brutal trauma when Robby had tugged you into a half-hug outside the ambulance bay, squeezing you so tightly you had to laugh. "You're a badass, you know that?" he'd said against your hair, voice rough. And for a second—just a second—he hadn't let go.

When you switched to night shift for extra trauma training, you met Jack. At first, he was just your attending—brilliant, relentless, intimidating. He kept a careful distance, crisp in his authority. But slowly, cracks showed.

One night, after a rough code, you’d slumped against the nurses’ station with blood-streaked gloves still on. Jack appeared beside you, two coffees in hand, sliding one toward you without a word. You’d blinked at him, fingers brushing his when you took it, and for a moment he didn't move.

"Thanks," you’d muttered, voice rough.

He’d just shrugged, but there was the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You’re welcome, hotshot."

You caught him smirking more often after that—at your dry jokes, your quick comebacks—offering gruff praise when you pulled off a save. Once, when you fumbled a suturing kit in a rare moment of exhaustion, Jack crouched beside you and murmured low, "Hey, breathe. You've got this."

His hand brushed your back—brief, grounding, unbearably warm—and your heart stuttered so hard it was a wonder he didn’t hear it.

Jack was slower to open up. The late-night rooftop coffees, both of you leaning back against the ledge, city lights blinking below as you traded quiet stories about worst patients, favorite saves, tiny admissions about sleeplessness and fear. The stolen glances across the nurses' station, like magnets catching without meaning to.

There were nights the ER would blur around you—patients screaming, monitors wailing—and Jack's voice would cut through the noise, steady and sure: "You with me?" 

And you’d always nod. Always.

Once, you'd both reached for the same suture kit and your hands had collided, his fingers wrapping around yours instinctively. Neither of you pulled away immediately. His thumb brushed your knuckles before he let go, the moment stretched tight enough to snap like a stale rubberband.

By the time you'd rotated back onto a blended shift with Robby and Jack, you were caught in the pull of both of them. Two different kinds of push and pull. 

If working with the both of them had taught you anything, it was that Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot were combustible—two sparks waiting for a reason to ignite, especially when it came to you.

They both had a tendency to be overprotective, possessive, and if they were honest, being around each other's orbit didn't help. When you’d come in for night shift and bid Robby goodbye as he ended his day, Jack would eye the way you laughed with Robby, the way Robby’s hand lingered at your elbow or lower back. More than once, Jack had swooped in, pretending to need you for a case, cutting the conversation short with a clipped, "You ready, Dr. L/N?"

Robby noticed. His wide grin supersaturated with disbelief, like he knew exactly what Jack was doing, clapping him on the shoulder harder than necessary as he left.

Likewise, when you clocked out in the morning and Robby was coming in to start his shift, it was Jack’s turn to be on the receiving end. You’d be talking with Jack at the nurses' station—usually laughing softly, leaning in closer than strictly necessary—and Robby would stroll up, insert himself easily into the conversation, his arm bumping yours as he reached for a chart.

Jack would tense, jaw ticking, shooting Robby a look that practically screamed, "We'll talk about this later," even if the words never came.

And when it came to the new interns—the accident magnets they were—their protective instincts bordered on alien.

Santos once knocked over a cart dangerously close to you and before you could even flinch, Jack had caught the edge of it with lightning-fast reflexes, his body shielding yours. He turned to Santos after, shooting him a look so sharp it could’ve drawn blood—the kind of glare that promised slow, premeditated murder if she didn't start paying more attention. Santos paled visibly, stammering an apology that Jack didn't even acknowledge.

Another time, Whitaker had nearly swung a door into you during a code and Robby had yanked you back by your waist, muttering a sharp, "Watch it," without even looking. A few minutes later, Robby—with all the casual malice in the world—assigned Whitaker to shadow Myrna for the rest of his shift as punishment. The look on Whitaker's face had been priceless; the vindictive smirk on Robby's face afterward, even better.

Javadi once sent a gurney skidding wild around a corner and you barely sidestepped—only for both Jack and Robby to step in front of you at once. Both of them looked ready to grill Javadi, who froze like she'd been caught committing arson. Before either could open their mouths, you clicked your tongue at them in warning, stepping around them to calm the sleep-deprived child genius, "Are you okay, honey? Let's get you some coffee."

You shot Robby and Jack a narrow glare over your shoulder—a silent command to stand down—and, grudgingly, they obeyed. But not without Jack muttering something about "rookies" under his breath. You, for the most part, played innocent—but you weren’t completely blind. You saw the way they watched you, the way they bristled and circled, each trying not to cross some invisible line neither had the nerve to define.

Once, you’d even caught them at the end of the hallway near the staff lockers, deep in a heated whisper-yelling argument. You were too far away to hear it all, but you caught pieces as you slowed your steps.

"...not yours to stake out," Robby hissed, shoulders tense.

Jack’s jaw flexed. "Maybe I’m what she needs," he snapped, voice rough with something almost broken.

Robby stepped closer, the space between them charged. "You don't get to decide that."

You’d ducked away before they could notice you, heart pounding, pretending you hadn't heard a single thing. You hadn't known then—not really. But you'd be lying if you said you hadn't had an idea.

In the weeks that followed, you noticed the air between them eased—less tense, less brittle. They started joking again, nudged shoulders in passing, teased you in tandem during transitional shifts. It almost felt normal again. Almost. But underneath it, something still lingered—a crackling undercurrent that neither of them could quite hide. Not from each other. And certainly not from you.

Little did you know that tonight would be the night where things completely shifted.

The bar was loud and too warm, the floor sticky, the music a little too old to be considered vintage and a little too new to be classic. It didn’t matter. It was freedom.

Robby bought whiskey for himself, beer for Jack, and whatever alcohol-masked cocktail you pointed at on the menu.

"To surviving," Robby toasted, clinking glasses.

"To making it out without a lawsuit," Jack amended dryly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, and drank deep.

It was easier than it should have been to relax. To let the haze of alcohol smooth the sharp edges of exhaustion. You grabbed Robby's hand and tugged him toward the makeshift dance floor, singing, "Come on, old man, dance with me!"

He hesitated, shaking his head and smiling to himself—then grinned and let you pull him. Robby spun you first instead, taking you by surprise, his laughter warm and easy against your ear. You laughed as he caught you against him again, both of you breathless and loose with happiness.

Jack leaned against the nearby wall, watching with that steady gaze of his, beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.

"C'mon, Jack," Robby called over the music. "Get your ass over here."

Jack held up a hand from where he leaned against the wall, a silent 'I'm good,' his mouth quirking in a reluctant smile. But you weren't having it. You weaved your way through the crowd toward him, leaning up on your toes to whisper something warm against his ear.

"Dance with me, Jack," you whispered through the noise, your voice low and warm, meant only for him. Jack stiffened for a second, breath catching, and when you pulled back, his eyes were dark, hungry. He pushed off the wall without another word and followed you to the floor, his beer forgotten.

Robby spun you again, and when you stumbled laughing into Jack, he caught you with hands that lingered a little too long on your waist. His palms were warm, steady, the faint smell of his cologne—clean soap and cedar—curling around you. Robby pressed back into your other side, the scent of whiskey and his usual lazy citrus aftershave filling your senses.

Their touches blended together—Jack’s firmer grip at your hips, Robby’s looser, teasing sways—and yet you could still tell exactly who was who. Jack's breath was slow and deliberate against your temple; Robby’s laughter rumbled against your back, a low vibration that soaked into your bones. For a moment, you were suspended between them, the music, the warmth, the want—utterly theirs.

You were on cloud nine, swaying to and fro like you were caught between the ocean and the moon—their touches the tide, pulling you back and forth, holding you steady.

Jack’s fingers flexed, and for a moment, the world tightened down to just the three of you—the heat, the gravity pulling you closer.

Robby pressed in behind you, his hands finding your hips, swaying you to the beat. Jack didn't step back. He stepped closer.

The music pulsed around you. Your head tipped back against Robby's shoulder, your eyes locking with Jack's.

Jack’s hand brushed your cheek, feather-light, like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Robby's breath ghosted your ear. "God, you’re beautiful."

Jack's thumb traced your jawline. "You drive us crazy, you know that?"

Your pulse thundered. Your body ached in ways that had nothing to do with fatigue.

You leaned in close, hovering near Jack's lips, but didn't kiss him—not yet. Jack froze, his hands tightening just slightly at your waist, pulling back just enough to make the boundary clear. You could see it written all over him—the hesitation, the unspoken rule he lived by: he wouldn't kiss you or anyone without explicit consent, either given or received.

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. "I'm sober enough to give consent," you assured, breathless but certain.

Then you turned to Robby too, catching his eye as your fingers brushed his cheek, your voice low but sure. "To both of you." His fingers tangled with yours easily, his grin soft and a little stunned as he let you loop him into your orbit—exactly where he’d always wanted to be.

Facing Jack again, you saw relief flash across his face—followed almost immediately by want. Jack leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning your lips, his nose brushing yours. He hovered there, still hesitant, giving you one last chance to pull away. When you didn't—when you leaned into him instead—he surrendered. His mouth claimed yours unapologetically, slow and aching, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of ever letting you go.

Robby kissed your neck at the same time, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse point, one hand splaying over your stomach, pulling you closer. His beard scraped roughly against your skin, a delicious, rasping contrast to Jack's lighter stubble as Jack’s mouth moved against yours—a difference you felt everywhere they touched you. Robby's touch was warmer, softer, always teasing; Jack's was firmer, anchoring, a bundle of hot coals beneath your skin. Different, but the same in the way they both made your nerves light up, made you feel like you were being pulled apart only to be put back together better, more whole, by the both of them.

You whimpered into Jack’s mouth, dizzy from the dual sensation, from the way they bracketed you, claimed you without a single word. Jack's hands shifted, strong and sure, spinning you gently—a slow, deliberate turn—until you faced Robby. For a moment, you stood suspended between them again, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Robby met you with a grin that was all heat and mischief, and then he kissed you—hotter, deeper, needier. Jack's mouth found your pulse point, sucking and nipping, while Robby's tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you open.

You gasped into Robby's mouth, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as Jack’s teeth grazed your throat, a low growl rumbling against your skin. Every nerve ending sparked, overwhelmed by the heat, the dizzying contrast, the way their hands and mouths knew your body like a song they'd always known by heart.

You couldn't tell how long the three of you had been standing there, tangled up, swaying in the sticky heat of the bar, the music thudding faintly around you. It could’ve been minutes or hours—time had stopped mattering somewhere between Jack’s lips and Robby’s hands.

Jack dipped his head, his breath skating warm against your ear, sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

"Do you want to get out of here, sweetheart?" he murmured, voice low and rough, a rasp of barely leashed need.

You nodded immediately, the word tumbling from your lips like a prayer. "Yes," you breathed—needy, desperate. The delicious ache between your legs had built to a throbbing pulse you couldn't ignore anymore, and feeling their firm bodies sandwiching yours, pressing into you from both sides, did absolutely nothing to help your self-control.

Robby chuckled, low and rough. "My place?"

"Fuck, yes—anywhere," you breathed, a laugh bubbling out of you, unable to stop the grin pulling at your lips. Jack grabbed your hand. Robby wrapped an arm around your waist.

Together, you stumbled out into the night—drunk on each other—laughing, touching, wanting.

Robby’s apartment wasn’t far—just a few blocks—and the fresh air hit your overheated skin like a balm.

The three of you walked fast, heads down, hands brushing and grabbing. Jack’s hand found the small of your back, steady and grounding. Robby kept an arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you close enough that you stumbled a few steps, giggling breathlessly against his chest.

The streets were mostly empty, just the faint hum of distant traffic and the sharp sound of your shoes hitting pavement. Every so often, Jack would glance over at you, his gaze dark, searing through the haze of streetlight. Robby would squeeze your side, lean in to murmur something low and wicked that made your cheeks burn and your thighs clench.

By the time you reached Robby’s building, you were buzzing with need, clinging to both of them without even thinking.

Jack opened the door for you, hand lingering low on your back. Robby herded you inside, already crowding close, already reaching for you like he couldn't wait a second longer.

The door slammed shut behind you with a thud, and before you could even blink, their hands were on you again—urgent, hungry, claiming.

It was dizzying, overwhelming, intoxicating.

But somewhere between Jack's mouth brushing your neck and Robby's fingers slipping under your shirt, clarity cracked through the haze. You shifted slightly, placing a hand on each of their chests, feeling their hearts hammering under your palms.

"Wait," you breathed.

Immediately, they froze—Jack pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, Robby's hands pausing where they'd met your hips.

You took a shaky breath, sobering a little more with every heartbeat. "I just… I need to ask… what's going on between us?" you said, voice rough with nerves. "I want this—I want both of you—but are you two okay with that? With… us?"

You glanced between them, heart hammering, terrified of the answer but needing it all the same.

Robby's grin softened into something gentler, thumb brushing the bare skin of your waist. "Been wanting this longer than I should probably admit."

Jack's hand found your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone, gaze burning into yours. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, seeming to gather himself. Then, with a gentle but firm touch, he guided you to sit on the couch behind you.

"Come here," he said softly. "Let's talk."

Robby, reading the mood immediately, peeled away toward the kitchen. "I'll make some tea," he said over his shoulder—giving you space, but also clearly knowing this conversation might take a minute, and that sobering up a little more wouldn't hurt any of you.

Jack sat down on your left, still close but not crowding, his thumb brushing lightly over your knee. "Talk to us, sweetheart," he murmured. "Whatever's in your head—we want to hear it."

You fiddled with the hem of your top, nervous energy humming under your skin. "I... how did we even get here?" you asked. "You, Robby—this thing between the three of us... Are you two really okay with it? With… sharing me? Sharing each other?"

Jack's lips twitched like he almost smiled but held it back, something more serious glinting in his eyes instead. Robby set down mugs on the table and dropped onto the arm of the couch on your right.

"Yeah," Robby said, voice softer now. "More than okay."

Jack reached up, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. "Been a long time coming, if you ask me," he said quietly. "And if we weren’t good with it, sweetheart, you’d know already."

Robby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, flashing you a crooked grin. "If it's any consolation," he said, voice teasing, "I liked you first."

You scoffed, the tension easing a little, even as your cheeks heated. Jack snorted under his breath, giving Robby a sideways look. "Congratulations. You had a head start and still fumbled it."

"Hey!" Robby protested. "Some of us play the long game."

You shook your head, warmth blooming in your chest, feeling the old familiar dynamic between them—sniping, nudging, teasing—but now all focused on you.

"So," you said, biting your lip. "Was that what you two were arguing about that day by the lockers? A few weeks ago?"

Jack sighed through his nose, and Robby grinned like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah," Robby admitted. "You caught the tail end of it."

Jack's hand slid down your arm, squeezing gently. "We were... figuring it out."

"Mostly... arguing over who was gonna make the first move," Robby added, winking.

You laughed, soft and breathless, the last of the nerves bleeding out of you. Robby bumped your shoulder gently with his, his eyes crinkling with affection.

"Old school here wanted to make some grand gesture," Jack said, jerking his thumb at Robby. "I was ready to just tackle you and confess."

Robby shook his head, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, the corner of his mouth twitching. "And you wonder why I didn't trust you to lead."

You let out a giggle you couldn't quite suppress, heart squeezing at how easy this felt—how they both looked at you like you were something precious. Jack shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, while Robby draped his arm casually across the back of the couch behind you.

"Whatever pace you want, sweetheart," Jack murmured. "Whatever you need. If you want this—us—we're in."

"We're not going anywhere," Robby affirmed. "Only if you want us too."

Cradling the warm mug between your hands, you smiled to yourself, giddy and a little dazed. Surrounded by them—their warmth, their steadiness, their absolute certainty—you felt a slow, overwhelming peace settle into your bones.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined either of them liking you—let alone, outside any professional context—but this? This was beyond anything you dared hope for. A dream you hadn't even let yourself dream.

Still, nerves prickled under your skin. Nerves hummed just beneath your skin. "I’m nervous," you admitted, voice soft but steady. "I’ve never done anything like this before. What if I’m not enough? What if I disappoint you? I don’t know if I’m built for relationships—let alone something this delicate. I’m scared I won’t be able to give each of you what you need."

Robby immediately set his mug down and reached for you, his hand settling warmly on your thigh, squeezing gently. "Hey," he said, voice low and sure. "You’re already enough. You, exactly as you are."

Jack leaned in too, his fingers brushing the back of your neck, grounding you with each slow stroke. "We’re not asking for perfect," he murmured. "We just want you."

Their certainty cracked something open inside you, something you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding shut—and slowly, steadily, the fear loosened its grip.

You set your mug down, heart hammering, and looked between them, searching their faces one more time. Robby gave you an encouraging tilt of his head; Jack’s hand never left your skin, tracing slow, grounding patterns.

You cleared your throat. "So how does..." you gestured vaguely between the three of you, "this work? Sharing me, I mean."

Robby chuckled. "Well, we'd figure it out together," he said easily. His fingers traced lazy circles over your knee, comforting, teasing. "It’s not about splitting you up or taking turns like it’s a damn schedule. It’s about both of us making sure you feel wanted. Taken care of. Every second."

As he spoke, Jack leaned in, lips brushing just below your ear, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin. Goosebumps bloomed across your skin. 

Robby's voice dropped, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilted his head toward Jack. "Though he’s better at explaining the rules."

Jack's hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face toward him. "No rules, not really," he murmured, mouth dragging along your neck. "Just tell us what you need. When you need it. And we—" he pressed a lingering kiss just below your jawline, "promise to give it to you."

You exhaled shakily, caught between the heat of Jack’s mouth and the warm weight of Robby's hand sliding higher along your thigh, the both of them slowly, steadily, setting you aflame.

Jack leaned in first—not demanding, not pushing, just giving you space to meet him halfway. You did, pressing your mouth to his, a sigh escaping against his lips. His kiss was slow at first, savoring, a promise.

When you broke apart, Robby was already there, catching your chin between his fingers and drawing you into him. His kiss was hotter, rougher, all pent-up hunger and laughter and want. You gasped softly into his mouth, fingers curling in his shirt.

Hands roamed—Jack’s warm and patient, stroking slow, steady paths along your inner thigh, while Robby’s fingers flirted shamelessly with the hem of your shirt, tugging it higher inch by inch. The pace between them built naturally—Jack’s touch grounding and possessive, Robby’s teasing and featherlight, like a promise he was aching to keep.

Jack’s hand slipped under the fabric of your top first, palm splaying flat over your bare stomach, the heat of him searing straight through you. Robby followed a breath later, fingers brushing just beneath your ribs, making you arch into them, helpless and wanting. Jack’s mouth was back on your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse, while Robby pressed kisses along your jaw, slow and coaxing, both of them winding you tighter with every breath.

The duality of it—the steadiness of Jack’s hands anchoring you, the playful, maddening tease of Robby’s touch—left you trembling, gasping, caught between them, aching. They didn’t just touch you—they learned you, charting every gasp, every shiver, every breathless plea with reverent, greedy hands. And you gave yourself over to it completely, trusting them to catch you as you fell.

Jack's hand slid higher, fingertips brushing just beneath the band of your bra, while Robby nudged your shirt up over your ribs, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along your exposed skin. They worked in tandem, peeling your shirt away with practiced ease, leaving you shivering and bare between them.

Jack kissed along your collarbone, featherlight, while Robby's hands coasted down your sides, making you arch and sigh into their touch. You felt dizzy with it, lost in the contrast—Jack's slow, claiming heat, Robby's teasing, daring warmth. Every nerve in your body sang for them, thrumming with the need to be touched, devoured, loved.

Jack's mouth returned to yours in a slow, bruising kiss while Robby leaned in, hands slipping beneath the band of your bra, rough thumbs brushing over your nipples. You gasped, the sensation sparking through you like lightning, hips shifting restlessly against the couch cushions.

Robby grinned against your shoulder, murmuring low against your skin, "Sensitive, huh?"

Jack chuckled into your mouth, his hands steadying your waist. "Good to know..."

You whimpered, nodding, surrendering completely to their slow, relentless worship—your body already unraveling under their hands and mouths, and they were just getting started.

"Too many clothes... off," you gasped breathlessly, tugging at the hem of your own top and glancing meaningfully between the two of them.

Robby grinned, wicked and eager. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jack hummed low in his throat, his hands already sliding up your sides, helping to peel the rest of your clothes away with deliberate slowness—as if unwrapping something precious they both intended to indulge in to the fullest extent.

They stripped you bare first, taking their time, every inch of skin revealed under their hungry, adoring gazes. After, you leaned back against the couch, heart hammering, feeling their eyes rake over you with something between adoration and possession. Then they undressed themselves—shirts pulled off in swift, unceremonious movements, revealing solid, muscular frames. Jack's arms flexed as he tossed his shirt aside, lean but powerful, while Robby's broader chest gleamed under the low light, his biceps straining deliciously as he shucked off his own layers.

You couldn't help it—you toyed with the hem of your underwear absentmindedly, admiring them, drinking them in. The dips of their hips, the strength built over years of unrelenting shifts and physical work. The noticeable bulges pressing against their briefs made your thighs squeeze together instinctively, seeking relief from the growing, delicious ache.

Both of them noticed. Jack prowled closer first, his eyes dark, focused, reverent, like he was already memorizing every inch of you. Robby followed, his grin dropping into something hungrier, need coiling thick between the three of you.

Jack knelt between your legs, his hands trailing slowly up your calves, your knees, coaxing them apart as Robby lowered himself onto the couch behind you, sliding you down lower, pulling your back flush against his chest. His arms bracketed you securely, anchoring you against the firm heat of his body, while you melted between him and Jack, breath catching at the feeling of being completely surrounded.

You felt their heat everywhere—Jack's breath fanning against your inner thighs, Robby's heartbeat hammering steady against your spine. Jack's hands were firm on your thighs, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your skin prickle with anticipation. Behind you, Robby's hands roamed shamelessly, toying with your stomach, skimming higher to tease the sensitive peaks of your breasts, brushing and rolling your nipples until you gasped and arched into their touch, caught helplessly between them.

Jack glanced up at you through his lashes, a slow, devastating smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Let us take care of you."

Robby murmured into your ear, his lips brushing your temple. "Just lean back. Let us show you how good this can be."

You whimpered softly, head falling back against Robby's shoulder, fully surrendering to them. Jack's hands squeezed your thighs, steadying you, while Robby's fingers skimmed higher, teasing circles around your nipples until you were trembling with need.

Jack pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, then another, working his way slowly, deliberately up your inner thigh, each one hotter, wetter, more possessive than the last. Robby kept you anchored, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face, murmuring low praise against your skin, grounding you even as you unraveled.

Every brush of Jack's stubble against your sensitive thighs sent shivers skating down your spine. You barely managed to pant out, "Please," before Jack's mouth hovered dangerously close to where you needed him most, the heat of his breath making you writhe against Robby's chest, desperate and burning and so beautifully undone.

Jack hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tugging it down with agonizing slowness. Once it was off, he balled the fabric in his hand for a moment—then tossed it up toward Robby without a word. Robby caught it without missing a beat. He lifted it to his face, inhaled deeply, and groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back. "Fuck, baby," he rasped, his grip tightening around your waist.

And then—finally—Jack's mouth found you. One slow, deliberate lick that made you cry out, made your whole body tense and shudder against Robby's.

Jack groaned into you, hands digging into your thighs like he could hold you open forever. He ate you out like a man possessed, like he'd been starved for the taste of you and was finally allowed to feast. Messy, desperate, utterly pussy-drunk. He mouthed and sucked and licked you like worship, dragging obscene sounds from your throat with every flick of his tongue. The wet, filthy sounds of it filled the room, each lap of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

You were soaked—shamelessly, beautifully wet for him—and Jack reveled in it, letting out a low, wrecked groan every time you bucked against his mouth. His face was drenched in you, slick and shining under the dim lights, the evidence of your pleasure painting his jaw and chin as he worked you over with single-minded devotion. Robby pressed kisses along your temple, whispering praises into your ear, but it was Jack who owned you in that moment—Jack who wouldn't stop, couldn't stop until you shattered for him, drunk on nothing but the sound and taste and feel of you, desperate for everything you would give him.

Jack slid one thick finger inside you, curling it expertly, pulling another whimper from your throat. He didn't give you time to adjust before slipping in a second, stretching you so sweetly, working you open with slow, devastating precision. Robby's fingers trailed down your stomach, teasing lazy, featherlight patterns until they found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Jack held your right thigh open with one firm hand, while Robby used his left leg to nudge your other knee wider, keeping you perfectly spread for them—completely, gloriously exposed. The contrast of their steady pressure, their control, only heightened the burning pleasure already coiling low in your belly. 

Overwhelming was an understatement to describe the state of your sensory cortex—Jack's tongue and fingers working deep inside you, Robby's slow, relentless pressure on your clit. You felt your soul begin to slip from your body, floating somewhere above, untethered by the sheer, unbearable pleasure. Everything was too much—the wet, filthy sound of Jack feasting on you, the breathy filth Robby was murmuring in your ear, the way they both knew exactly how to break you apart.

It hit you like a flashfire—white-hot and consuming—and you exploded with a choked cry, body arching helplessly between them as the orgasm ripped through you, shattering you into a thousand glittering pieces in their hands.

Jack didn't stop—not at first. He licked you through it, groaning into your core like a man possessed, savoring every trembling aftershock you gave him. Robby held you tighter, grounding you while your vision blurred and your body spasmed with the force of it.

You whimpered, boneless and wrecked, hips twitching as Jack finally eased off with a final kiss to your sensitive clit. When he pulled back, his face was a mess—slick with your release, shining under the dim lights, utterly wrecked and utterly in love with the taste of you.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth—completely unashamed—and smirked, voice rough and low. "You taste even better than I dreamed, sweetheart."

He lifted his hand—your essence webbed slick between his middle and ring fingers—and held it up toward Robby. Robby caught his wrist without hesitation, wrapped his lips around Jack's fingers, and sucked them clean, slow and deliberate. The sight—Robby moaning low around Jack’s fingers, Jack staring down at you like he wanted to devour you all over again—nearly made you die and ascend straight to heaven on the spot.

Robby licked his lips, eyes molten. His voice was low and rough when he finally spoke. "Which one of us do you want first?" 

You could barely breathe, still half-falling from your last orgasm. Your body was limp, floating, buzzing with overstimulation—but the way they looked at you—hungry, waiting—set a fresh ache rolling through your gut. 

You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them. Robby—broad and steady behind you, heat radiating from his bare chest now damp with sweat. Jack—still kneeling between your spread thighs, resting his head lightly against your thigh like it was a pillow, his face slick with you, shining under the dim lights. He stared up at you with a look so raw, so utterly reverent, it made your breath catch—like you were something holy, something he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch.

You opened your mouth to answer—but all that came out was a wrecked, breathy little giggle.

Jack chuckled, low and wrecked. "Yeah," he rasped, thumb brushing your thigh possessively. "We might've broken her a little."

Robby grinned wickedly against your shoulder, pressing a slow kiss to your neck. "We haven't even started yet, baby."

You found the strength to lift your head, heart still hammering against your ribs. Jack and Robby seemed to feel it too—the need to slow, just for a second, to gather you back into yourself.Jack kissed your thigh softly while Robby stroked lazy, grounding patterns along your ribs and stomach, whispering, "Breathe. We've got you."

Their touches soothed the wild, frantic buzz in your veins. You melted between them, savoring that brief, perfect moment of care—before the tension, the heat, the hunger started sparking again.

You leaned forward, pulling Jack up onto the couch, crashing your mouth against his in a heated, desperate kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, slick and filthy and devastating—and it only made you kiss him harder, grinding your hips against Robby in wordless, frantic need.

Robby groaned, feeling you start to move against him, and his hands slid possessively down your sides to anchor you. Jack pulled back just enough for you to gasp a shaky breath, eyes dark and blown wide, before you started moving, trading places—Robby got up with a low groan, adjusting himself slightly as he moved aside. You slid off Robby's lap, allowing Jack to fall back onto the couch cushions, legs spread, inviting. Kneeling between Jack’s thighs, your fingers fumbled at his waistband. He hissed softly when you freed him, the heavy, flushed weight of him slapping against his stomach.

Robby kneeled down behind you—his hands tracing down the delicate arch of your back, then slipping lower to spread you open. You shuddered as he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing lick along your folds, tasting you again before standing up behind you, lining himself up.

Jack held his hand up toward Robby and paused for a beat, gaze searching yours. "Do you want us to use condoms?" he asked, voice quiet but serious.

You shook your head instantly, breathless but certain. "I want to feel you. Please, I need you like this..."

That was all the permission they needed.

Before he could push in, you turned your head slightly, your hands reaching back. You found Robby's cock in one hand and Jack's in the other, stroking them both slowly, deliberately, savoring the way each man shuddered under your touch. You gave yourself a moment to take in their differences: Robby was longer, while Jack was thicker. Robby had a dark, full bush of hair at his base, while Jack was trimmed short, neat but not bare. Both of them were perfect—different textures, different shapes—but each exactly the right length and girth to fulfill your every need. Your mouth watered just thinking about it, your thighs instinctively pressing together in anticipation.

Robby leaned down, kissed the curve of your shoulder, and then pointed toward Jack with a tilt of his chin, a silent handoff. "It's okay, baby," he murmured against your skin, voice thick with need. "We've got you."

With that, he gripped your hips, steadying you, and with one slow, devastating push, he slid inside—filling you completely, making your knees tremble.

"Fuck." You couldn't tell which one of you said it but all of you understood. 

Sandwiched between them, your mouth found Jack’s cock, wrapping your lips around him as Robby filled you from behind, and you thought—half-delirious—that heaven had nothing on this.

"I'm considering getting it taken out," you admitted to Samira one sluggish morning, slumped at the nurses' station after a brutal overnight shift. "I haven't had sex in forever. And honestly? After that disaster of a 'date' last month—if you can even call it that—I’m swearing off men altogether."

Samira snorted into her coffee. "Babe. It's an IUD, not a vow of celibacy. Just leave it. Who knows? One day you’ll trip and fall onto someone worthwhile."

You laughed weakly, swirling your pen between your fingers. "Yeah. The odds of my toys and I having a long, happy life together are becoming more and more likely."

Neither of you noticed Jack and Robby just around the corner of the nurses' station, both frozen in place, pretending to sift through charts as they listened intently—Jack’s jaw clenched tight, Robby’s fingers twitching like he wanted to strangle something. Robby cleared his throat a little too aggressively.

Samira sipped her coffee, then grinned over the rim of the mug. "Please. The perfect man could walk in, naked, with a six-pack and a stethoscope and you’d still roll your eyes."

You snorted. "Exactly. Unless he’s got magic hands and a brain with emotional intelligence to match, I’m not interested. And even then…" You shrugged. "Battery-powered and drama-free is winning right now."

Jack's pen snapped clean in two, the sharp crack making you and Samira both glance up. He didn't even flinch, just grabbed another pen—handed to him silently by Robby, like nothing had happened—and kept moving. You and Samira shared a puzzled look before continuing your conversation.

"I'm just saying," Samira continued breezily, unaware of the storm brewing behind the divider, "maybe keep it. Future you might thank you."

Jack’s voice floated in a second later—low, rough, a little too casual. "Keep it."

You blinked. "Uh… thanks for the unsolicited medical advice, Dr. Abbot?" you teased lightly.

Jack just shrugged, gaze unreadable. "Saw a teen pregnancy case come through last night," he said, voice low and rough.

Samira let out a soft exhale. "Shit."

You winced, the image settling heavy in your chest. "That’s awful."

Jack tipped his chin down. "Reminded me how fast things can change. Better to be protected. Even if you think you won’t need it."

You nodded slowly, assuming he meant it like any good physician would—just another reminder in a world of unpredictable chaos. At the time, you didn't know that when he said "keep it," he wasn’t thinking about some random case or an oath of ethics.

He was thinking about you, and Robby, and the secret, filthy hope that someday soon, it wouldn’t just be hypothetical anymore.

The thing about Jack and Robby was this—they both prided themselves on being brilliant doctors, but even more so on remembering the little things.

Especially when it came to you.

A particularly deep thrust snapped you out of your mind wandering. Robby set a brutal pace almost immediately, hips slamming into yours with deep, relentless thrusts that made your entire body jolt forward. You moaned around Jack's cock, drool slipping from the corners of your lips, your throat vibrating with every desperate, broken sound you made.

Jack hissed, his hand tangling in your hair, the vibrations from your moans sending sharp waves of pleasure up his spine. "Fuck, sweetheart," he groaned, head falling back against the couch. "You're perfect like this."

You could barely think, overwhelmed and soaked, the rhythm of Robby pounding into you from behind driving you forward with every thrust—until your lips slid further down Jack's length, gagging slightly as you fought to keep your composure.

"That's it," Robby growled, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other sliding up your spine. "Look at you… taking him so well while I wreck you."

Jack moaned low in his throat, eyes dark and glassy as he watched your mouth stretch around him. "Jesus Christ," he breathed, his voice rough and reverent. "You're gonna make me lose it."

Robby laughed softly behind you, breath hot against your shoulder as he drove into you with another sharp, delicious thrust. "She loves it. Don't you, baby?"

You could only let out a faint, muffled whimper, your mouth still stuffed full of Jack. Jack leaned forward, his hand curling into your hair and giving a firm tug at the roots—just enough to sting, just enough to make your eyes roll back with the delicious ache.

"He asked you a question, sweetheart..." he cooed, his voice dark silk in your ear.

He pulled you off his cock slowly, strings of spit still connecting your lips to him, a line trailing messily down your chin. You turned your head to look back at Robby, dazed and trembling, lips swollen, your chin slick, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with the threat of a tear, and a blissed-out, filthy smile curving your mouth.

"I love it," you managed, voice hoarse, breath catching between words. "I love everything you're doing to me. Please... don't stop."

Robby’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. His eyes darkened, hands tightening on your hips. "Fuck," he rasped, stunned and awed. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

Jack leaned in, brushing your hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle hand, his other palm cradling your cheek. "You’re doing so well," he murmured, voice a smooth, deep rasp that curled low in your belly. "So fucking perfect like this. Look at you, taking him so well. Can you feel how much he loves being inside you?"

You whimpered, nodding as Jack’s fingers trailed down your jaw, tilting your chin up so he could look into your eyes. "That’s it," he whispered. 

Jack brushed your cheek with his knuckles, tugging you into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his hips slowing just enough to keep you balanced right on the precipice. You moaned against him, the sound helpless, raw—your body trembling with need. Robby's smirk brushed your skin where he pressed kisses to your shoulder, still moving inside you with slow, devastating thrusts. He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper as the high you were balancing on ripped cruelly from your grasp. You barely had time to recover before Jack's hand wrapped around your throat, firm but careful, beckoning you to follow his lead.

"On the couch," he ordered, voice rough silk.

Dazed but obedient, you moved quickly, positioning yourself laterally across the couch and head perched on the raised armrest. Robby stood directly above your head, cock glistening and heavy, while Jack moved below you, one hand stroking your chest possessively before gripping your thighs.

You braced your elbows on the cushions, breath catching as Jack lined himself up. With one strong, devastating push, he filled you—thicker, stretching you even more, making your mouth fall open in a ragged moan. Robby guided your face toward him, his hand gentle on your cheek, his cock brushing your lips. You blinked up at him, wrecked, lips parted around a gasp as Jack pounded into you, driving you up with every punishing thrust. Robby watched you with hooded eyes, stroking himself lazily, the sight of you completely wrecked making his cock twitch in his hand.

"Come on, baby," he said softly, thumbing the center of your lip. "Open up for me."

"Look at you," Jack rasped. "You're fucking perfect. Made for us."

Both of them were drinking in the sight of you—your hair damp and stuck to your forehead, lips swollen and slick. Your moans were breathy and ragged, a near-constant stream of gasps and incorrigible cries. Robby's gaze was half-lidded, jaw tight. Jack’s hands gripped your hips like he never wanted to let go, his eyes devouring every inch of you like a man deprived of oxygen. The raw awe in their stares made your stomach twist with heat.

It was too much. The stretch of Jack's thick cock filling you, Robby's taste still lingering on your tongue. Surrounded by their heat, their sounds mixing with your own, the pressure finally crested. Your pleasure broke like a supernova, sharp and wild, tearing through you. You came again with a single, desperate cry, your entire body convulsing between them, walls fluttering and gripping Jack so tightly it dragged a guttural, broken groan from his throat.

That did it for Robby.

He thrust into your mouth with a sharp snap of his hips, then again, and again—desperate, ragged, chasing his own high. You could barely keep up, still shuddering from your orgasm as he fucked your throat, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other in your hair.

"Jesus fuck—" he gasped, voice unraveling. "Just like that..."

With a final, wrecked moan, Robby came, hips stuttering. Hot release spilled across your tongue as he groaned through clenched teeth, fingers flexing in your hair as he slowly stilled, trembling with aftershocks.

You swallowed greedily, drinking him down without hesitation, eager for every drop. His taste sent another flicker of arousal through your spent frame. The hunger in your body didn’t fade—it only simmered lower, deeper, tethered to the way Robby was still trembling, cock pulsing with the last aftershocks of his release. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, cheeks flushed, a dazed but satisfied smile curling at the corners of his lips as he memorized you—every wrecked, glistening inch of you. Jack, still hard and deep inside you, kept his hands on your hips, his eyes fixed on your face like he was watching something holy.

Jack slowed his thrusts, then gestured silently for Robby to join him.

Robby leaned down and gave you a deep, claiming kiss, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan before making his way down your body. Jack shifted, lifting you with surprising care, settling onto the couch with you pulled onto his lap—back to his chest. You were straddling him in reverse, legs spread open across the cushions.

"Just relax," Jack murmured against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin. "Let us take care of you." 

Robby knelt down between your legs, his breath ghosting over your plump folds before his mouth latched on, tongue teasing and devouring in practiced rhythm. He licked long and deep, groaning into you, tasting both your slick and Jack's—heady, intoxicating. He held your knees wide open, anchoring you in place with firm hands, occasionally slipping one beneath your thighs to lift you slightly—helping Jack thrust up harder, deeper, driving his cock into you at an angle that made your vision blur.

Jack's hands returned to your breasts, massaging, kneading, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you whimpered. One hand slid up to your throat again, pressing just enough to make your breath catch, before traveling back down over your chest, across your belly.

If God was real, you had no doubt that this was the Biblical version of heaven. Jack filling you from behind, grinding up into your sweet spot with precision, while Robby sucked at your clit, tongue flicking and curling.

Robby pulled back for a moment with a breathless groan, his mouth slick, beard glistening, and eyes dark with awe. "So fucking beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your trembling inner thigh.

Jack's voice followed, low and wrecked against your ear.

"One more for us," he rasped. "Come for us again. Give it to us."

The word—us—shattered something inside you. The way he said it, raw and desperate, made your body clench again in anticipation, your breath hitching helplessly as the overwhelming pressure began to build all over again.

Your vision went white. The combined rhythm of Jack's thrusts and Robby's relentless mouth on your clit sent you spiraling. You shattered with a choked cry, body trembling uncontrollably, and everything dropped away for a second—blacking out from the intensity of it.

Jack groaned when he felt your walls clamp down hard around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm milking him with every flutter. He growled into your shoulder and buried himself deep, spilling into you with a rough, broken curse, clutching you tightly as he came, hips twitching with each wave of release.

You collapsed back against his chest, boneless and dazed, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it thrum through your fingertips. Jack wrapped an arm tightly around your waist, pressing lazy, reverent kisses to your shoulder as he caught his breath.

Robby made his way up the couch and slid in beside you, tucking your loose hair behind your ear before pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. "You are an absolute vision," he murmured against your skin, voice low. Jack found your hand, intertwining your fingers, rubbing soothing circles into the knuckle of your index finger. The steady rhythm of his thumb was the only thing anchoring you to the now, holding you steady in the soft, humming aftermath.

They took their time with you after that—gentle hands roaming your skin, tender kisses mapping your body. Jack shifted you carefully off his lap, murmuring soft praises as he rubbed soothing circles over the places where his grip had been a little too rough, thumbs ghosting over faint red imprints along your hips and thighs. He pressed warm, apologetic kisses to your shoulder, to the curve of your neck, anywhere his hands had left their mark. Robby, meanwhile, grabbed a warm cloth and helped clean you up with quiet, focused tenderness, his fingers brushing your skin like you were made of glass, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee when he finished.

You smiled through the haze of bliss, wriggling free once you felt a little more solid. "Be right back," you muttered, voice scratchy and small.

You tried to stand—and immediately wobbled, your knees buckling.

Jack and Robby, splayed out lazily on the couch, reacted instantly. Their hands came up instinctively to support your back and arms, steadying you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. When you managed to stay upright, they let their hands linger a beat longer.

They watched you sway with twin smirks tugging at their lips, too spent to do much else but chuckle under their breath.

"Careful," Jack drawled, his voice rough but warm. "You look like you just got hit by a truck."

Robby grinned, resting his head against the back of the couch. "Hell of a good one, though."

You managed to wobble to the bathroom, limbs heavy and bliss-drunk, but halfway there, you turned around briefly—gave them both a playful glare, narrowing your eyes, and held up a finger in mock warning.

The living room echoed with bellied laughter, eyes bright despite the exhaustion, the sound warm and full of affection.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, your body felt like a jar of honey under summer sun, the post-sex haze still curling like smoke under your skin. You flopped gracelessly back onto the couch, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips. Jack and Robby had disappeared briefly into the bathroom themselves. You heard the sound of running water, a few low murmurs exchanged, and then footsteps returning.

When they stepped back into the room, you were curled into the couch cushions, fast asleep, a soft smile curving your lips—blissed out and peaceful. Jack stopped in his tracks, heart thudding at the sight. Robby stilled beside him, eyes soft.

"Out like a light," Robby said quietly, but fondly.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. She earned it."

With a quiet grunt, Robby bent and scooped you up gently, cradling you against his chest. You stirred slightly, your arms looping behind his neck, head nuzzling into his collarbone. Jack padded behind, turning off the lights as they went.

The bedroom was dim and quiet. Robby laid you down carefully, brushing the hair from your face as Jack pulled the covers up over you. You shifted sleepily, instinctively reaching for them.

They climbed in on either side of you—Robby wrapping an arm around your waist, Jack curling close behind. Sandwiched between them, you let out a little contented hum as Jack pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and Robby to your shoulder.

And in that soft, sleepy silence, you drifted off again—safe, wrapped in warmth, held by the two men who had finally let themselves love you, together.

—

Morning came slowly, the golden haze of sunlight warming the sheets. You stirred first, blinking your eyes open and stretching slightly—only to wince at the delicious soreness that radiated from places you hadn’t known could be sore. You smiled into your pillow as flashes from the night before flared back into focus: the heat of their bodies, the sound of their voices, the way your name had spilled from their mouths.

You tip-toed to the bathroom first, brushing your teeth with the spare toothbrush Robby kept under the sink and washing your face. The cool water anchored you back in your body. When you looked up, the mirror offered you a sight to behold—patches of hickeys forming on your neck, some darker than others, scattered like constellations across your collarbone and throat. Something flashed in your core, a low ache waking up with a pulse of memory. Your smile curled with equal parts embarrassment and pride.

Voices drifted from the kitchen. You pulled on a random shirt hung on the edge of the laundry hamper and padded toward the sound, feet silent on the hardwood.

Jack and Robby stood by the stove—well, more accurately, bickered at the stove. Robby held a spatula mid-air while Jack pointed at something on the counter.

"You can’t add garlic to pancakes," Jack muttered, exasperated.

Robby rolled his eyes. "I wasn’t adding it to the pancakes. I was sautéing it for the eggs—Jesus, keep your scrubs on."

Jack gestured broadly with a mixing bowl. "They’re in the same pan, Robby. They’re going to taste like garlic pancakes."

You leaned against the doorway, grinning as you watched them. Both of them were shirtless, wearing sweatpants. His curls were still mussed from sleep, and Robby wore his sweats low on his hips. They looked like a married couple arguing over brunch logistics—and you loved it more than you could say.

"You need to flip that now or it's going to burn," Jack warned, eyeing the skillet like it had personally offended him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Robby shot back, jabbing at the eggs with the spatula, "Did you suddenly become head chef? You're not even on omelette duty."

Jack crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. "I was until you hijacked the burner and tried to infuse everything with garlic."

"As someone who survived off of expired MREs and basically drinks hot sauce as your only condiment, you are the last person who should be judging my culinary decisions."

You couldn’t hold back your amused scoff. You cleared your throat loudly.

They both froze and turned like synchronized swimmers. Two sets of eyes locked onto you—Jack’s going slightly wide, Robby’s mouth parting like he was about to offer an excuse.

"Morning," you said, deadpan, then broke into a smile.

Their expressions melted, sheepish grins appearing in tandem.

Jack stepped forward first, slipping a hand around your waist and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. It was soft, warm, lingering just long enough to make your chest flutter.

Robby started to move toward you too, clearly intending to follow suit, but Jack smirked and turned slightly. "Can’t let the eggs burn, can we?"

Robby glared at him but stayed put, grumbling under his breath as he gave the eggs a stir.

With a quiet laugh, you stepped over to him and tiptoed to press a kiss to his cheek. "Good morning, chef."

His grumble softened into a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into your kiss.

Behind you, Jack busied himself at the counter. "Coffee?"

You nodded. "Please. God, yes."

He smiled without turning around, already reaching for a mug. The air was thick with the scent of breakfast, coffee, and something much softer—something like home.

He handed you the cup a moment later, and your fingers brushed as you took it. Jack gave you a smile that was still sleep-soft and just a little shy, like he couldn't quite believe this was real.

Robby passed you a plate stacked high with eggs and a slightly lopsided pancake, and kissed your temple as you sat down. "Hope you’re hungry. I tried." Jack pinched his side lightly at the remark, smirking. Robby swatted his hand away with a glare, but he was smiling too.

"It looks delicious," you murmured, cheeks warm.

You ate shoulder to shoulder, trading quiet smiles and bites off each other's plates, content in the hush of morning. Jack poured more coffee without being asked. Robby reached over occasionally to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was nothing—and everything.

When the meal was done, you sat in the warmth of it all, sipping slowly from your mug.

Jack stretched behind you, his voice low. "We should do this again."

You looked up at him. "Breakfast?"

He smiled. "All of it."

Robby leaned back in his chair and reached for your hand. "Yeah. Us."

And for once, the thought didn’t scare you. It settled in your chest like something inevitable. Like something already yours. "I'd like that... very much..."

Jack kissed your temple again, his lips lingering a second longer, and Robby gave your hand a small squeeze. No fanfare. No big declarations. Just warmth, safety, and quiet promises in the soft morning light.

Robby nudged your plate closer. "You want the last pancake?"

You shook your head with a sleepy grin. "Only if we split it."

Jack rolled his eyes fondly and reached for a fork. "God help us, we’ve become that couple."

"Correction," Robby said, stealing a bite anyway. "That throuple."

You laughed, heart full to the brim. And as they bickered softly over syrup and coffee refills, you leaned back in your chair, wrapped in the calm after the storm—content, adored, and exactly where you belonged.

[ribbonflame]

Breaking Boundaries

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Brother’s Best Friend Trope

Summary: You're Enzo's little sister who he's very protective of. His best friend Mattheo Riddle can't help but be attracted to you.

Warnings: smoking, drinking, curse words, mentions of y/n, frat boy theo lol

all characters aged up.

It was your second to last year attending Hogwarts and Enzo’s final year. The two of you were attached at the hip since you were born; knowing he wouldn’t be there with you at your final year, you were somber. He assured you that you’d be fine and he’d apparate at an owl’s notice if he found out you were in trouble.

“Don’t be gloomy, y/n,” Enzo encouraged. He looked out the door, seated comfortably in front of you. The train had yet to depart. He glanced at you again, noticing your crossed arms, “We’ll spend a lot of time together this year, there’ll be loads to do… I’m excited for the party this weekend.”

You looked at Enzo, feeling a little better. “Enz you know you’re only looking forward to that because you haven’t touched a drink this entire holiday.” He looked at you with a smirk, he knew you were right. He argued that it would help with his tolerance: drink less and still get wasted.

The sliding door opened and Enzo’s friends entered one by one.

“Oi! Is that really you Enzo? Quite a tan you’ve got there!” Theo exclaimed. You noted the tight polo and the cap he wore sideways.

Each of them dropped their luggage to exchange hugs and handshakes. The only one who seemed to notice you was Mattheo.

“Hi y/n… You’re gonna hang with us this time?” he asked as he lifted his luggage and packed it into the overhead bin. Mattheo spent the most time with your brother this summer while everyone else traveled.

Usually, you’d be with your friends who were in the room next to Enzo and his group, but you decided to be with your brother since it was his last train ride to Hogwarts.

You looked at Mattheo and answered, “Yes, just ‘cause it’s Enzo’s final year. Hope you don’t mind.” The banging of luggage filled the silence and the roomette began to smell of various colognes.

Theo cockily butted in the conversation, “Don’t forget it’s also our final year.” as he proudly banged his chest. Everyone was settling in, Enzo moving to sit next to you so you wouldn’t feel awkward.

The train ride back to Hogwarts was nothing short of deafening. Everybody was chatting about their summer holiday and if not about their summer holiday, then quidditch, and if not quidditch then girls, and if not girls, it would be about the parties they planned on throwing. You tuned in to the conversation about the Slytherin Welcome Back Party. You’ve attended them since your third year and have always looked forward to it when school started.

~

Once the train arrived to Hogwarts, your brother and his friends started to pick up their luggage. Their height was an advantage for them to swiftly gather their bags and exit the roomette. The night sky made it difficult to look for your belongings above, but a hand reached out and picked it up for you. Behind you, you saw Mattheo holding your trunk with one hand and his belongings in the other; the veins on his arms paired well with his muscles.

He moved his hand towards you, ushering you to pick up your stuff. Your eyes never left his as he made sure you didn’t drop anything. After all these years of knowing him, why did it take you so long to realize how attractive he is?

You didn’t seem so different than your brother at that moment.

“Er- you’re welcome?” Mattheo broke the silence.

You were grateful for the darkness since it hid the obvious blush on your face. All you could muster up was a rushed ‘thank you’ before speed walking past him and catching up to Enzo.

~

Hours before the party, everyone in Enzo's and your group helped set up. Each person had their own task in preparing for the party: Draco and Blaise getting the drinks, Theo and Mattheo charming a muggle herb ‘marijuana’, and Pansy decorating. The group always left you and Enzo for anything involving transfiguration.

“Geminio.” you incanted, pointing at the few shot glasses that instantly turned to hundreds. Enzo was turning a studying desk into a wet bar while Pansy dimmed the candle lights and enchanted the light bulbs green. Mattheo and Theo sat by one of the tall windows, attempting to pronounce the correct charm for the weed.

While the two of them were goofing off, you couldn’t help but notice how attractive Mattheo was. His sharp jawline and curly hair that framed his intense eyes were like magnets to your eyes. You knew it was wrong to find your brother’s friend attractive. But he was just so captivating.

He caught you staring, then smiled and waved at you. You waved back then quickly turned back around, trying to hide your embarrassment. You could have sworn you also saw him wink at you.

“I finally got this stupid thing to grow,” Mattheo announced. “If anyone wants any just let me know.” he said, holding the pot up like a trophy.

Enzo glanced then went back to turning a coffee table into a pool table, “Save me one mate, I’m just about done.” he replied. The Slytherin common room looked like a club, nothing like the ominous dungeon that everyone knew it as.

Before the party officially started, everyone drank a few shots to pregame.

“So who is going to do all of this work next year?” you asked Enzo, the burning sensation from the liquor affected your voice.

“You and Tori..?” Enzo barely responded while his throat felt ablaze.

“Oh, and Crabbe and Goyle! I’m sure with their low marks on their N.E.W.T.s Dumbledore would want to keep them for another year.” Draco replied dryly. There was an eruption of laughter while the blonde man rolled his eyes.

After, Theo and Blaise went up to the entrance of the common room to start letting people in while Enzo started playing music.

~

As the night progressed, everyone was drinking and their inhibitions were nowhere in sight. You danced with Tori, Daph, and Pansy by the fireplace while the boys were sprawled around the common room. The bass from the music was vibrating through everyone’s chest. The mysterious, hot, ‘Dark Lord’s son’ would keep exchanging glances with you throughout the party.

Your slightly revealing outfit helped you move freely while you moved your hips.

Pansy leaned into your side, "You know, if you two keep going at it, I'm afraid your brother's not gonna like it." She inhaled a puff of smoke, dancing carelessly next to you. The dark-haired girl glanced over your brother, who was unaware of anything.

"Mmm, we're allowed to look right? It's not like it's illegal." you slurred, grinding against Pansy.

~

After a few hours of dancing and drinking, you wanted to check up on your brother. You knew he’d be wasted as he never failed to do so at these parties. He was by the wet bar along with Mattheo and Blaise. Before you could say a word, Enzo proudly slurred, “Am I that drunk or am I seeing double, Carrow?” You looked over to where he was looking, the Carrow twins were there, wearing the same outfit. Flora rolled her eyes while Hestia giggled. “Say, if you want, my dorm is available after this party.” he slurred, his head turning them as they walked past him.

You quickly went in front of him and grabbed his cup, “Enz, you know that the Carrows are twins right? Are you alright?” you asked, while taking a good look at him. His eyelids were lowered and his cheeks were flushed. You pulled out your wand and incanted aguamente into the cup and gave it to him.

“Y/n, I’m fine really, I’m having such a good time.” He hiccuped before drinking the cup full of water. Enzo’s head was spinning and his speech was incredibly slurred. Mattheo moved closer to Enzo, his height towering over you. He laughed at the sight of Enzo and put his arm over his shoulder in a brotherly way. You turned your head in Blaise’s direction and saw him pouring shots of firewhiskey and a dose of an alternate pepperup potion (that Draco liked to call soberup potion).

Blaise announced, “Alright blokes let’s take this next one.” while he handed them their glasses. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him before drinking the fiery elixir. He raised his glass in response.

Half an hour passed and Mattheo was as crossed as ever. In comparison, Enzo had sobered up with the help of the potion and some throwing up. You guys decided to regroup with everyone near the fireplace. That’s where Enzo noticed that Mattheo was looking at you more often. He paid no attention to it until he saw him eyeing you up and down.

“Something on your mind?” Enzo asked, trying not to seem overprotective over you. Enzo took a quick look at his sister, who was swaying vivaciously to the rhythm of the music. You paused to take a shot that Pansy lifted with her wand. Your brother knew you were wasted.

“Your sister is fit.”

“I will gouge your eyes out.”

Mattheo stopped drinking from his red solo cup and looked at your brother. He hadn’t realized what he said until he was met with Enzo’s dark, threatening glare. He cleared his throat and laughed at an attempt to smooth the issue. If it was any other guy, Mattheo would not be threatened; his usual way of resolving issues of beating someone up would not work with his friend.

“Allow it Enzo, I’m just joking!” Mattheo said light-heartedly, hiding his fear of what Enzo would do “Besides, I’ve been looking at Tori this whole night.” the curly haired man tried to fixate on the wild, brunette girl but he was so damn distracted by the way your hips were moving.

He blinked, then noticed you weren’t in your usual spot. He looked to his left and Enzo wasn’t there either.

Enzo guided you to the opposite side of the room, far from Mattheo. He didn’t want to ruin your mood by making you stay in your dorm the whole night, so this was the best solution he could come up with. “Enzz, why here? Everyone is over thereee.” you whined, pointing at your girl friends.

“I’ll bring them over here, I just noticed you were a little too close to the fireplace. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He lied, ushering your friends to move to where you were. You sat on a stool, kicking your feet and giggling.

You were drunk but you weren’t stupid. “Wait I know why you moved me!” your body became hunched as you pointed your finger at him, “It’s because me and Mattheo have been eyeing each other this whole night!” you laughed.

Enzo pulled his head back, with a disgusted look on his face. “Wait, you’ve been looking at him too? Y/n, he’s my mate, that’s rank.” He looked to the fireplace and noticed Mattheo wasn’t there. “Do not move from that stool, got it?” your brother commanded, his arms slightly squeezing your shoulders.

He looked for Mattheo, then went to Theo and Blaise to ask if they’d seen him. They shrugged, not knowing where he’d went. His last resort was their dorm, and he spotted Mattheo on his bed.

“Have you lost the plot? She’s my sister!” Enzo exclaimed, looking at Mattheo. He avoided his gaze, feeling scared and guilty. “You know you have a reputation of sleeping with any girl that glances at you, so why the fuck would I be okay with you looking at her? She's off limits.” he spat.

Mattheo finally lifted his head to look at Enzo, “You’re one to talk Enz. That black book you’ve hid under your bed since year 5? Don’t think you’re innocent.”

“Oh, as if you haven’t written in that book either? Seriously, back off from y/n. Consider yourself lucky that you're getting away with this because I care for y/n and because you're my friend.” Enzo swiftly picks up his wand as he walks out of their dorm, slamming the door as hard as he can. The room shook, slightly scaring Mattheo.

Mattheo put his head in his hands and sighed. He really tried to be subtle, but it was rather unfortunate timing that Enzo caught him in the act.

Meanwhile, y/n trucked her way to the nearest trash bin to empty her guts. Unfortunately, she was so drunk out of her mind that she ended up puking in a pot. Pansy and Daphne rushed to hold her hair up and take care of her.

Theo and Blaise spotted Mattheo outside of their dorm and walked up to him to ask what happened. Mattheo paid no attention to them as he noticed you in your sickly state.

He moved past everybody, not caring if he spilled their drinks, he needed to get to you. "Y/n how much did you drink?" he asked, grabbing the nearest cup to fill it with water.

"Eughh, Mattheo don't even look at me, it's not a pretty sight." you managed to say between gags. You took a break, trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down. Your heart was beating at a rapid pace and there was small chunks of puke in your hair. Your neck was down while your hands found comfort in the cold, stone floor. The sight of you made him sober up.

"Here drink this, where is your brother? Isn't he supposed to take care of you?" he asked, anger searing through his voice. He was worried about you, he could care less if Enzo saw him with you again.

You didn't have the capacity to speak, only nodding and accepting the drink. You swished the water in your mouth and spat in the same pot to clean your mouth. You were taking deep, shaky breaths. The bass from the music playing was ringing in your ears. He ordered your friends to find Enzo while he took care of you.

Mattheo unzipped his hoodie and wrapped it over you to keep you warm. You could barely keep your eyes open. He guided you to a nearby couch, and you slumped over his shoulder. Daphne followed you guys and casted a cleaning charm on you, ridding you of any remnants of throw up.

He was in an uncomfortable position. After his argument with his best friend, he didn't want to further disrespect him. But, he couldn't just leave you like this alone or with your friends who were as drunk as you. He reluctantly put his arm over you, rubbing your back as you fell asleep in his arms.

As time went on, the party slowed down. People from different houses began to move back to their respective common room. Enzo was nowhere to be found. Mattheo was fighting sleep to watch over you but ultimately failed. He rested his head on top of yours and drifted to sleep.

~

The sunlight danced through the Black Lake, making the common room look peaceful. Enzo woke up from a hot flash in his bed. He scanned his dorm thoughtlessly, looking for any more soberup potions. He accounted for his roommates, except for his best friend.

Enzo sluggishly put on his oversized hoodie and sunglasses to find him. He didn’t think he overreacted last night, agreed that he could have done more. But he just wanted to make sure that Mattheo was safe. He exited his dorm and noted the lingering smell of alcohol and smoke. Enzo winced as the sound of his slippers made contact with the sticky floor. He looked around, saw a handful of students fast asleep and some waking up with a hangover.

Enzo walked to the left wing of the dorm and saw two figures passed out on a couch. He could easily recognize Mattheo, but he didn’t know the girl he was with as her hoodie covered her face. Enzo was relieved to find his friend safe and didn’t want to disturb his sleep. But curiosity got the better of him and he removed the girl’s hoodie only to identify you. Your brother was completely vexed. You were off limits and Mattheo knew that.

"It's like you don't listen." Enzo said, waking Mattheo up. You were knocked out. His eyes adjusted to Enzo, his heart sinking immediately. Enzo stood there, arms crossed, shaking his head in disappointment. "What the fuck did I say about leaving her alone?"

a/n: omg hi guys this is my first post!! i was way too shy to upload this because I was seriously doubting my writing skills. but the more you write, the more you improve. i hope you guys enjoyed the story, stay tuned for part two ♡

[werecreature-addicted]

Do you remember your writings about a minotaur and a farmer girl? Well, how about this, one night there is a party in the small town, you know, and that day both humans and monsters attend, it is a day when everyone can have fun and relax, humans, werewolves, half-snake creatures, orcs, minotaurs, etc, anyway, in the town the minotaur realizes that the girl he lives with is somewhat "popular" among some humans and monsters, since it shows that some have an interest in her, you know, they are in love with her, and well this is something that makes our minotaur jealous 🤭

part one, two, three. and for those who didn't see the Minotaur's name is Sam now.

Sam looks up at the dazzling lights that flit through the night sky. Fireflies glow in the dark like stars. Children run around with glass jars trying to catch the small insects. There's so much noise, it's a little overwhelming, children shrieking in delight, groups of people talking loudly, and a little further down a band was playing.

You reach out and squeeze his hand, reminding him that he isn't alone.

"It's pretty, isn't it? I'm so glad you decided to come to the solstice festival with me," you say smiling. It is a beautiful summer night, and having you with him makes it all the better. he can't help but think that you're pretty tonight too.

"You've been begging me for weeks to come with you, I couldn't say no," he murmurs. it wasn't quite true, you'd just been hinting over and over again that he should come out with you tonight. You laugh and squeeze his hand again before letting go completely, and he fights the urge to pull your hand back in his and cling to you a little longer. Sam craves your touch more than he should, your hands are warm, and small in his, and they make him feel at ease in a place like this, surrounded by noisy strangers. Even though he's out of his element, he is glad he came, he feels better knowing he can keep an eye on you, and keep you safe, should the need arise.

You'd promised him other nonhumans would be there tonight, and you'd spoken the truth. everywhere you looked there were werewolves, nagas, and some paler humans he could only assume were vampires, Still, he felt like he stood out, he was a good foot taller than anyone else here, and he did notice the nervous glances he was getting. He gets it. he's big and scary, covered in scars, and has a broken horn.

The people of the town surprise him. many people came up to him and started a conversation, even though they were clearly nervous. He hated it. And he hated that he hated it. He still wasn't good at talking to anyone who wasn't you, just because you're nice and treat him with respect doesn't mean All humans are like that, he knows all too well just how cruel most of your kind can be.

That being said, most people coming up to him weren't actually there for him but for you. He knew you were lovely, kind, charming, and attractive, but he's a little surprised that so many others thought the same. It seemed like half the town wanted to catch up, buy you a drink, take you for a dance. humans and monsters alike.

He feels the jealousy spike, he wants to hoard your attention, and selfishly keep you all to himself. The two of you were basically alone on the farm, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to have to share your attention. and it's not a welcome change. Luckily for him, you don't seem eager to leave his side. You politely turn down the handsome werewolf who asked you for a dance. You seem perfectly committed to staying by his side this whole night, just like you promised you would. there are no words for how grateful he is that that's true.

"I don't know how to dance," he admits softly as the werewolf walks away.

"What?" you ask, not following his train of thought.

"I mean. if you want to dance tonight, that's not something you can do with me," he explains, his mood darkening as he thinks about the things you couldn't do with him that you could with a more normal man. He thinks about all the people who've talked to you tonight, any one of them would make a better more stable partner than him. He feels guilty for wanting you, especially when he considers how much he doesn't deserve you.

"No one was born knowing how to dance, Sam, it's a skill, you practice and you learn. If you want I can teach you," you offer. Sam felt the blood drain from his face, He'd fought countless bloody fights and none of that was as terrifying as the idea of trying to learn to dance in front of such a large crowd. You laugh lightly seeing the look on his face,

"At home, I'll teach you when we're alone, besides this-" you gesture to the band playing "-isn't really my style, I'll figure something better for us to dance to," you assure him, and he relaxes. Dancing, alone with you, at home. your shared home. it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Love is not a word that he never uses ever, and he rarely even allows himself to think it, but he's not sure how much longer he can keep the words inside. He's sure that if you really do teach him to dance that will be his breaking point, or maybe he wouldn't say "I love you" but he might just kiss you deeply instead. Then again, maybe he should, if you were officially his it might keep some of the other men in town away from you. He wouldn't mind that at all.

[bonbonly]

same anon from pussy drunk max and I just thought of this and had to share. Hold my hand on this one, pussy inspection. Doesn’t matter who you write it for but just wanting to “check” you at random times through the day. Holding you spread, checking if you’re tight and punishing you for ruining your panties telling you that you can’t just walk around wet all the time or else he’ll have to confiscate your panties and pants. The idea of him spreading you out and nudging your clit, sliding his fingers in and out, maybe even checking if you still take his cock perfectly is so hot to me. Especially if he’s successfully restraining himself from fucking you, after all he can’t fuck you unless he inspects you properly. Going insane over this idea please add more

ASDFASDFASF I AM GOING FERALLL OVER THIS YOU CAN'T JUST PUT THIS IN MY INBOX AND THEN EXPECT ME NOT TO EXPLODE I-

ok deep breaths, deep breaths bon, you got this asfasdfasf

bon thoughts (18+)

you know who i see this as? collegeau!charles leclerc. this is so him, and I'm going to make sure ALL of you see why this is him. he's the sweetest boy ever in the university, and he volunteers and goes training to be an inspector because he thinks it'll look good on his resume. and he's very hell bent on being professional, but then he sees you and all he can think about is how he's hoping you end up on his list of patients so he can finally inspect you.

when he walks into the room one day, he sees you naked and spread out completely, your pussy on display for him, as if you were made for him. he's biting his lips, taking a deep breath in and trying to keep his reputation intact. good sweet boy charles couldn't possibly try to ruin you, but the demons in his mind told him otherwise. he sits on a small stool, his face inches from your cunt. you prop yourself up on elbows, asking him how long this will take because you had a class to attend to soon and he's smiling like an idiot, nodding his head and talking about how he understands your concerns. he grabs some gloves, slipping them on carefully before taking his thumb and massaging your clit slowly. his eyes are on you, watching your reactions as you gasp out loud, head thrown back before you ultimately fall back onto the head of the bed you were laying on. when he thinks you're wet enough, he slips a finger in,

"just checking to see how tight you are, ma chérie," he murmurs, licking his lips, he wants to wrap his mouth around your cunt but he's holding himself back. he'd have to wait. he's adding a second finger, astonished how your body's welcoming him and when he curls and hits a spot inside you, you're moaning out loud. he pulls his fingers out, nodding his head and taking some notes and tells you that you're good for your first check-up.

and then the days pass, and you didn't show up to a couple of his checks, which has him a bit impatient. everyone was busy with their lives, though, but you? oh, he spent days thinking about you, how could you do this to him? so when you do show up, he's upset at you but even more upset that you're pussy is glistening in the light. you're dripping onto the bed beneath you, and he has no idea why that's so, but he doesn't like it one bit. you explain to him that this boy said something to you that made you feel funny. charles isn't happy one bit, and he's rubbing your clit harder than he's supposed to, watching your pussy hole clench around nothing,

"ma chérie, you cannot be walking around like this. ruining your panties, drenching what ever you wear. what if someone else sees? is that what you want? you want people to see how wet you are?" he's scolding you, and you're getting wetter at his words, unsure as to why your tummy was feeling weird, as if there was a pressure waiting to be unleashed. charles is shaking his head, not even waiting to hear your response, "i might order you to never wear anything to cover this cunt of yours, so that everyone can see how needy your pussy is."

his restraint is out the window, and he now has his cock out. his tip is crying for you, leaking excessively and you tilt your head, trying to understand what part of the procedure this was. charles notices your confusion and reassures you, "just to see if you can take a cock, or specifically my cock."

and he sinks himself into you, watching you moan out loud as he begins to fuck you at a pace that might be a little too much for you, but he doesn't care. he's been waiting for days for this, and he has no signs of stopping now. he almost catches himself leaning forward to kiss you, he knows better than to get involved like this but he figures in the next appointments he could get closer to you. right now, all he wants is to fill your cunt up with his cum, "you can only ever do this with me, no one else. never take anyone's cock outside of this exam room unless it's mine."

and you nod your head, willing to follow along with whatever he said. he's the sweetest boy on campus, he obviously was doing this for your own good!

[harrysfolklore]

Tom meeting reader at an event and he’s just flirting the whole night and ends up getting her number

i watched the golden globes and got inspired to write this! i hope you like it <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was an award for "most nervous person in attendance" at the Golden Globes, you'd have won it by now.

Award shows never failed to make your stomach feel in knots the entire time, specially when you were nominated, like tonight.

The Great had been a huge breakout role, a period drama that had captivated audiences and critics. Now, you stood among the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy at the Golden Globes, and you could feel your heart pounding as the moment of your category being announced approached.

"Love, are you okay?" you heard a voice calling for you, turning your head you realized that it was Dua (yes, the Dua Lipa) who was sitting next to you.

"Just a bit nervous," you told her with a small smile, "I think I'll head backstage for a minute, I need a breather."

She assured you with another smile and you made your way backstage, a commercial break started just on cue.

You had rehearsed your acceptance speech a dozen times in case you won, and also had a pep talk ready in case you didn't, yet the nerves persisted. You knew you were competing against some big names, and whatever the result people online would have something to say.

Your train of thought was interrupted by your body colliding with someone, almost dropping your clutch in the process.

"Whoa there, careful," a voice chuckled, catching your arm.

"Sorry, I didn't see where I was going," you said, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment, of course you'd run into someone in classic romcom cliche style.

"No harm done. You alright?" he grinned and you recognized him, it was the man who had been flooding your Tiktok for you page for the past month, Tom Blyth, "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, I'm YN," you smiled back, "And yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit nervous about my category. Oh you're presenting it, aren't you?"

"I'll have the privilege, yes," his charm effortlessly showed, "And just so you know, I'm rooting for you. You were phenomenal in The Great, one of my favorite shows I watched last year."

Your nerves seemed to ease a bit, his presence and charm making you relax. There was something about him that felt comforting, even though it was your first time meeting him.

"Thank you, that's really nice," you smiled at him, "But I don't want to get too confident, the other nominees are just as great."

"Honestly, I'd bet my hat you're taking that Golden Globe home tonight."

Tom squeezed your arm gently and you smiled again, and before another word could be exchanged, a crew member's voice echoed through the backstage area announcing that the show was back from commercial break in 30 seconds.

"Well, looks like it's showtime" Tom glanced towards the exit, then back at you. "Knock 'em dead out there, YN. You got this."

"We'll see."

With a final wink sent your way, you parted ways. You returned to your seat and tried to enjoy the ceremony as much as you could, your nerves still in the back of your head but your interaction with Tom making you feel more at ease now.

"And now, presenting the award for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy, please welcome The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes star, Tom Blyth!"

You heard the host say and you knew t was time, and once again a wave of nerves and uncertainty filled your body.

The crowd erupted in applause as Tom stepped onto the stage, his confidence and charm shinning through.

"Good evening, everyone. It's an honor to be here tonight among such incredible talents," Tom smiled, "Here are the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series, Musical or Comedy."

A video played showing all the nominees but you felt like your mind was numb, you didn't even realize it had ended until Tom's voice was heard again.

"And the Golden Globe goes to," he paused for suspense, and you could see a small smirk making its way to his face as he read the name, "YN!"

Time seemed to freeze, you tried to process everything as you heard the applause from the crowd and those around you congratulating you and before you knew it, you were on stage taking the award from Tom's hands and giving him a quick hug.

"I told you." He quietly whispered in your ear and gave you a wink, a moment that the cameras had caught.

You gave your speech, thanking your cast mates, directors, family, friends and the rest of the nominees. Once you were done you headed backstage with a proud smile and your newest award in hand.

The night went on and you definitely enjoyed every minute of it, mingling with other actors and thanking everyone who approached to congratulate you.

Once the ceremony wrapped up, you headed to the after party, you were sipping on a fruity drink by the bar when you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey, can I steal a moment with the newest Golden Globe winner?"

You turned around noticing it was Tom, he had changed to a different suit and you couldn't help but think that he looked really handsome.

"Sure, what do you need, president Snow?" you laughed, feeling a newfound confidence around him.

"How about your number? I'd hate to lose touch with Hollywood's latest sensation." Tom flashed his charming smile again, taking you by surprise and making your entire body feel giddy.

"Smooth, Blyth. Very smooth." Blushing furiously, you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Well, when you really really want something, smooth comes naturally."

And just like that, after winning a major award for your career and feeling on top of the world, you found herself exchanging numbers with Tom Blyth, excited to see where that would take you.

[written-in-knife]

Hello it's me again! I really enjoyed the last request you did and I wanted to see if it'd be ok to send another? (I have twst on the brain and maladaptive daydreaming so my nogin is constantly making up scenarios. send help) If it's too much too soon just ignore, but if you're up for it could I request headcanons for lilia with a female fae reader that attends nrc too and though she's quite a bit younger than him - like 400+ - she also fought in a war many years ago (not the human v. fae war he was apart of,more like an enemy countries/imperialism type thing) and decided to enroll for the chance to meet new people. Take your time and thanks again!

Lilia Vanrouge x fae!reader, established relationship but vague enough that it can be read as platonic

Fluff, humor, lil bit of hurt/comfort for flavor

Hey, welcome back! Absolutely it's okay, I love this idea and we are so in the same boat with the maladaptive daydreaming, don't even worry about it lmaoo

Lilia was absolutely not expecting to find someone at Night Raven that he had so much in common with. You fought in a war centuries ago and came to Night Raven to meet people too? Granted, he came to Night Raven to keep an eye his weird entourage of sons but regardless. Wait, do you also have a weird entourage of children? No? Shame.

You swap centuries old war stories all the time, not really trying to one up each other but aren't you?

The two of you spend a lot of time trying to update each other on human trends. "Wait, when did bell bottoms go out of style?" "Almost fifty years back, but I think they're making a comeback?" "Why are the kids laughing, I thought they still asked about feeling the shrimps?" "No, I think that went out at the turn of last century." "Dammit, that was my favorite one."

He still pulls the old man card with you, but you both get to pull the old people card on everyone else. They still don't believe either of you, they just think you're playing into each other's bit.

You both have your own war horrors haunting you that only the other could even start to understand. Fae fought wars much differently that anyone else, even after hundreds of years, it was hard to forget about. Neither of you ever really talked about it, but you didn't need to, you just knew how and when to be there for each other.

You do tease Lilia about being a general sometimes, saluting when he enters a room or calling him sir. And you best believe he plays into it when you do.

The two of you adore Trein's class, often gossiping about what you had been doing during whatever time period was being covered. You discover fairly quickly that you'd just barely missed each other a lot. Guess living for centuries meant paths were more likely to cross. Both of you also had a lot to say when the textbooks were wrong. Trein is a little sick of you two, honestly.

Overall, the two of you get along great. You can get annoyed when Lilia pulls the age and experience card to win an argument, and he sometimes gets frustrated by the "frivolity of youth" but they're short lived feelings. You've both lived through enough to know that petty grievances like that aren't worth dismissing someone who understands you like no other could.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.

[pedroscurls]

HUGH JACKMAN MASTERLIST.

18+ only, mdni! you can find all of the hugh jackman characters i've written so far below the cut. please note that majority of the stories contain (or will eventually have) smut and all stories are fem!reader, no use of y/n.

🌶️ - smut ❤️‍🩹 - angst 🥰 - fluff

LOGAN HOWLETT

HUGH JACKMAN (real person fanfiction)

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 🥰 training partners: you hire a new personal trainer to get you back on track, but you don't realize that she's also hugh jackman's trainer until you show up to the gym. ↳ pt 1. - pt 2. - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - pt. 7 - pt. 8 - pt. 9 - pt. 10 - pt. 11 - pt. 12 - pt. 13 - pt. 14 - pt. 15 - pt. 16 - pt. 17

requests:

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 secret crushes: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. ↳ pt. 1 (can be read as a standalone) - pt. 2 (which includes blake and ryan with reader!)

🌶️ sneak away with me: you sneak away with hugh during a party.

🌶️ welcome to broadway: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him.

🌶️ 🥰 baby, stay in bed: head over heels in love with hugh, you spend the night for the first time... and realize that hugh feels the same way.

🌶️ save a horse, ride a cowboy: hugh takes you to go flower picking, but all you can think about is taking him back to his car and riding him.

🥰 let the world know: you and hugh have been keeping your relationship a secret... until hugh accidentally lets millions of his followers know exactly who he's been dating.

🥰 cooking with hugh: hugh gets to see you in action... and he reaps the benefits too.

🥰 the first date: hugh takes you out for your first date.

🥰 sunday nights: sunday nights with hugh are your favorite -- movie night, cuddling, and finally some alone time with him.

🌶️ 🥰 romantic getaway: hugh takes you to greece for a romantic getaway after rumors of your relationship with him start to circulate the media... but there's no hiding it anymore.

🥰 first impressions: hugh meets your kids for the first time.

🥰 bad influence: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick.

🥰 mesmerized from afar: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event.

🌶️ 🥰 our little secret: ryan and blake try to set you and hugh up, but little do they know, you've already been secretly seeing each other.

🌶️ you put a spell on me: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building.

🥰 seasons changing: hugh and reader get ready for fall in new york.

🌶️ late to the party: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again.

❤️‍🩹 better together: after filming finishes with deadpool & wolverine, your relationship with hugh progresses... until he breaks things off with you. it isn't until ryan invites you to the press tour that you see him again and finally have a serious conversation with him.

❤️‍🩹 🥰 in the shadows: hugh's excited to see you at his premiere, but when he sees the look on your face when he's posing with one of his co-stars, he's confused because you decide to leave without a word.

[chrystal-ink]

Damn you

An enemies to lovers story

Shadow x GN Reader

Rating: Mature Minors do not interact

Chapter one: First Day

You arrived on the fourteenth floor, towing your supplies as the receptionist showed you to your office.

"All of our field agents get their own personal office's in order to have privacy when working on investigations, they are soundproof, bulletproof, and are the few rooms in this building without cameras in order to protect sensitive information. That being said all of your electronics will be monitored closely. Any potential treason will be immediately investigated. If you are looking at chao videos we can see it, if you are messaging your romantic partner we will read it, your privacy is a security threat you may have it at home but not here. Do you understand?"

"Yes mam" you replied

"good, now here is your office, and your key, do not lose it. get settled in, at ten you have a meeting with Director Sanders, the head of this department, and Commander Abraham Towers they will give you your first assignment as well as debrief you on how we operate here. Good luck Agent Y/N And welcome to GUN."

with that she left you alone in your office.

you unpacked your items organizing them to your preference. Taking a deep breath you took a small moment to celebrate, you were finally here after so many long years of training, fighting, and countless sleepless nights. A field agent you almost couldn't believe it, you hoped they were proud.

but you couldn't spend the whole day celebrating, there was a job to be done. and you needed your first assignment.

⚫

"You seem to have risen through the rankings at an impressive rate" Director Sanders started.

"Yes sir, I've Dedicated my entire adult life to this Organization and the protection of this planet"

"that's good to hear. I see your parents had a high rankings here as well. does that have anything to do with your decision to join us."

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't, my parents were my hero's. I want to follow in their footsteps."

"They were good soldiers." the Commander interjected. " I was sad to lose them, your mother was an excellent shot, one of the best in the agency. It was hard for a mobian soldier to gain respect back then, but your mother never stopped fighting for it. Much to everyone's surprise, save for your father's and mine, her shot improved after she gave birth to you and your sister. She was never one to back down from a challenge. I can tell you're the same way. Tell me How is Felicity?"

"She's doing well, smart as a whip too. She attends boarding school most of the year. but spends summers with me, I've arranged a nanny for when she visits so I have plenty of time for missions if I am needed."

"Good. speaking of missions, It's about time you received your first mission as a field agent. most of your missions will be given to you by Director Sanders, he is in charge of most field agent operations Any missions given by me immediately become top priority. You are new so you likely won't be given any high profile missions until after you have proven yourself to be proficient do you understand."

"Yes sir I do."

"Good, Now Our servers have picked up an energy signal from an abandoned water treatment facility possibly linked to the Chaos emeralds, your job is to go there find the source and report your findings back to us."

"Understood."

"There will be a helicopter to pick you up and take you to the drop off point, you will have three hours to find the source and get back to the rendezvous point. this facility has been abandoned for decades so you shouldn't run into any trouble, that being said you will be issued your standard G.U.N pistol and bullet proof vest. in case any inconveniences make themselves apparent, you are to deal with them quickly and to your discretion. You will have an hour to get ready before meeting your Helicopter at the launching pad, this should be enough time to collect your equipment and change into your mission gear. you are dismissed. and Y/N."

"Yes Commander."

"Good luck, I know you will make your parents proud."

"Thank You sir." with that you exited the room to get ready.

"Do you think we should have warned them about Shadow Commander?"

"No, as much of a loose cannon as he is, this signal shouldn't be strong enough to warrant a visit from him, besides this case is about as low profile as we can get, more of a maintenance call than anything, they should be fine."

⚫

you arrived at the facility taking out you scanner you began to search the area for the energy source.

the sounds of your steps echoed as you made your way through the dilapidated corridors. your flashlight reflected off employee safety signs that clung to the walls through rusted screws, vats once filled with untreated water lay dry, a musty scent filled the air.

your scanner gave off steady beeps as you got closer and closer to the source. you became more conscious of your movements the further you walked. the fur on the back of your neck began to stand as you entered what you assumed had to be the employee cafeteria.

your ears perked up as you heard a slight gust of wind behind you. instinctively you stepped aside just in time to doge a figure careening towards you.

the figure rerouted turning back around for another attack. you removed your gun from it's holster, before you could properly take aim the figure struck you knocking you to the floor. you held onto your gun with a death grip, you were not about to lose your only means of defense against an unknown enemy.

"Who are you, and what the hell do you think you're doing here?" the figure asked his voice deep and gruff.

he stepped into the light of your now abandoned flashlight allowing you to see him properly.

Crimson eyes glared at you, his black fur blended him into the darkness making him look as if he were apart of it, and his markings. red on his face, limbs, and quills that you could never forget, not even if you tried.

You recognized him alright.

Shadow The Hedgehog.

[lonely-ey3s]

Main Masterlist

lonely-ey3s masterlist

Follow and turn on notifications for fic updates with @lonely-ey3s-updates ❤️

Welcome to the ever-growing list of works I'm creating!

Please remember everything with 18+ MDNI !!! will have SMUT so please be advised & read all series/chapter warnings ✨

wee little key guide for categories you might be interested in:

smut 🌶️-- fluff ❣️-- angst 💔

AO3 masterlist

**on going**

Summary: You enlist in the army as a way to escape your abusive ex-boyfriend. While you are in basic training and eventually deployed as a medic in the military, you participate in a pan pals program that your bunkie convinces you to do with her. You don’t expect to be paired with Joel Miller, a single dad in Texas, who you find great comfort and motivation in writing back and forth. As each letter comes to you from him, and to him from you, you both realize ‘warm regards’ turns into ‘with all my love’. 💔❣️🌶️

Masterlist

**complete**

pairing: reed richards (no sue) x f!reader

series summary: After taking two of Reed's classes at the university, you are now in his physics class. You find out that he is being pressured by the university to get student aid, and to your surprise, he asks you to take on the role. 🌶️❣️💔

Masterlist

**on going**

pairing: joelmiller!rodeocowboy (no outbreak) x f!reader

series summary: You're traveling back home to your parents and your sister and you turn up at the county fair. You attend the annual rodeo show as your little brother is participating in that summer. What you don't expect to do is meet a bull and bare-bucking rodeo cowboy named Joel Miller who's got his sights set on you. 🌶️❣️💔

Masterlist

**complete**

pairing: harry castillo(the materialists) x f!reader

series summary: After a long day you meet up with Harry for a sushi date. After how things ended for you both last date, the tension is high and when he asks you to come back to his place to continue your night-- you can't help but agree. 🌶️❣️

Part One

Part Two

**on going**

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

series summary: Are you hard to love, or have you not found the right person? After you meet Harry Castillo at your sister's wedding, he shows you what it means to be in love. He shows you how to be loved. ❣️🌶️💔

Masterlist

▻ joel miller!knight x f!reader (princess)

▻ joel miller!neighbor x f!reader (snow shoveling neighbor fluff)

▻ Be Mine (Valentine's Day) joelmiller x f!reader

[redfoxwritesstuff]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Professional Kisses (Vox x Reader)

Summary: The invitation to the exclusive Vee's New Year's Eve party told you you were wanted at the hottest party in all of Pride Ring. What it didn't tell you was why and if this was some sort of prank.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Dreamy Kisses (Alastor x Reader)

Summary: It's been three years since Alastor left you in the middle of the night with nothing to remember him by except a single bowtie, forgotten in his haste. You missed him more with every passing day and every year, you hoped he would attend the one party you never missed. Perhaps this year your dream would come true.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Garden Kisses (Angel Lucifer x Reader)

Summary: As humanity's first year comes to a close, you spend the night watching the only two humans pass their time. The courtship of humans moved faster than that of angels but perhaps tonight the two of you could court at the speed of humans.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Bar Kisses (Husk x Reader)

Summary: While the Hazbin Hotel New Years party is swinging, you linger at the hotel bar. There were plenty of choices for who to give your New Year's kiss to but you had a special feline in mind.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Intoxicating Kisses (Valentino x Kitty!Reader) ⑱

Summary: Valentino is always on the lookout for the next big star. You catch his eye at the New Year's Eve party at the club. A lovely cat demon, just on the edge of beginning your heat. A sinner like you could easily become the next Angel Dust, he just had to make the offer. Would you accept? CW: Blowjobs, dubcon kiss, nonconsensual intoxication, Val is his own warning, drug use

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Party Kisses (Angel Dust x Reader)

Summary: After managing to get a invite to the hottest New Year party of the year in Hell, you are more than eager to indulge in all the party has to offer. With the party pumping through your veins, you shoot your shot with the one and only, Angel Dust.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Ancient Kisses (Zestial x Reader)

Summary: After harboring a crush on Zestial for a few years, you finally gather the courage to tell him at the Carmine New Years Party.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ First Kisses (Rosie x Reader)

Summary: You and Rosie have been seeing each other in private for a little while. While you enjoyed the attention, there was a loneliness to attending the town New Years dance without her at your side.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Static Kisses (Vox x Rosie)

Summary: Rosie checks up on a old friend that grew distant, making a point to visit him for New Years.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Unwanted Kisses (Vox x Alastor)

Summary: Vox reminisces about the last New Years he spent with Alastor. CW: One sided Vox x Alastor

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Lovesick Kisses (Sir Pentious x Reader)

Summary: Sir Pentious sat alone at the bar, drinking his sorrows away as he eyed Cherri on the other side of the dancefloor. You couldn't help but want to distract and perhaps help the kind but awkward snake sinner with his woes.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Angel Kisses (Emily x Reader)

Summary: Emily always excelled in her role within the heavenly community. Part of why she excelled so much was her thirst for knowledge, always eager to learn more about the world and lives her Winner charges had left behind on Earth. At the annual Winner New Year's Eve party, it is the earthly celebrations she wants to learn about and you're the best one to teach her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Rock Kisses (Adam x Reader)

Summary: Adam threw a New Year's Eve party that was legendary. He stood on the stage and put on a once a year show where he lived his rock star dreams. Every year, he brought someone on stage to welcome the New Year in the spotlight with him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Surprise Kisses (Lute x Reader)

Summary: Your existence was short but it was long enough for you to birth a small crush on your commanding officer, Lute. Having graduated from training, you were glad to start your first ear as a fully minted warrior angel with a kiss.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Replacement Kisses (Cherri Bomb x Reader)

Summary: Cherri is never anything less than the life of the party, eager to partake in whatever liquor is flowing and what drugs are offered. Clinging to anything that made her feel alive, Cherri was eager to dive head first into the New Years party and in the process, found herself diving head first into you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Hopeful Kisses (HuskerDust)

Summary: Angel Dust and Husk have been dancing around the suggestion of feelings all year but when it comes to the Hazbin Hotel New Year party, there isn't anyone Angel Dust would rather get his New Year kiss from but Husk. If only he could convince the cranky bartender to see him as anything more than a annoyance.

[lokideservesahug]

An Unexpected Crossover

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing:Carlos Alcaraz x F1 pilot!Reader

Notes: I've had this in my mind since Wimbledon but only ever ½ created this. Shout out to @yungbludz for fully bringing me into my Alcaraz era and for indirectly encouraging me to post this (il your work) + (an anon comes out of hiding ig). I have ideas for other parts but Idk if I should continue so feedback is very welcome. This characterisation is probably awful but I've never written for Carlos before. I'm very open to advice though.

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the only rookie in Formula 1's 2024 season. But many people get excited at her attending Wimbledon especially after some old interviews resurface...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You weren't ashamed of your boyfriend, of course not. But mornings like these made the constant speculation, talks and borderline harassment about your relationship worth it.

Moments where you woke up earlier and could watch the first breaking of the morning sun fall out between the gaps in your curtains and onto Carlos' face. You watch as the yellow light frames your boyfriend's face, making him look even more pretty than usual.

In this moment, he looked like the perfect image of sleep. And goodness did he deserve it, especially after his performance, that could only be described as truly outstanding yesterday.

You'd heard what people said about yesterday. Djokovic gave one of his greatest performances ever and Carlos still managed to beat him. Even the thought strikes a chord of pride within you and brings a grin to your face.

A sudden groan however wakes you from your thoughts. "Querida?" You hum in response, looking back down to your boyfriend. He lifts his head up slowly and gives you a familiar look (one that you've learnt that at times like these, means he's questioning why you aren't still glued to his side). You hold in the urge to laugh slightly his pouty face and half asleep fueled strop but that only makes his pout get somehow bigger. "Big baby." You lie down next to Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder and weaving your hand under his shirt. Carlos let's out a slight shiver at the lack of warmth in your hands but also simultaneously hums in content. "Eso está mejor" (That's better)

You roll your eyes. "Then shush you big baby." Already anticipating his next move, you whip out your other arm to cage Carlos' hand to the bed. "Don't even think about pretending to be offended. Just go back to sleep." And that order he happily complies with; well after wriggling his arm from out of your grip only to lay it on your back and rub mindless shapes as he mutters "mujer mandona" (Bossy woman). And before you have the time to respond, (probably about the fact that Carlos gets riled up at stuff like that) you feel the familiar shallow breathing of your boyfriend fan across your hair.

You had to do things at some point today. But you suppose you could sleep in, especially for the Wimbledon Champion.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Jane had given you some elaborate story for if anyone truly cared enough to ask about your relationship, well at least for your standards. You're pretty sure it went something along the lines of:

1. You and your boyfriend met at the start of last year and began dating soon after (but kept it on the downlow due to your job). However, you were so enamoured with him that despite your PR training, you let the fact that you weren't single slip once or twice.

2. He broke up with you a few months ago, leaving you heartbroken but still being mature and understanding.

3. (Possibly the truest element of the whole story) Carlos kissed you when he won Wimbledon for the second time, which he did.

4. Your ex boyfriend saw, came to a realisation, called you up... you know the rest.

It was very PR polished and you knew it, Jane knew it, but it was what you needed. Some story just yo cover your tracks and make people focus on your racing, not your love live. But it almost made you laugh at what lengths people had to go to. When infact the real story was only:

1. You and Carlos started dating at the start of last year...

That's it. No break up, no heartfelt reunion after you kissed another man. However, you and your boyfriend had a good laugh over the whole story and even led to an interesting conversation a few days ago.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You'd just come home after racing in the simulator all afternoon. You look down at your phone and sigh at the sight of Jane wishing you a nice day, finally ending the conversation. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you unlock the front door and step inside. You take your shoes off and walk to the living room to try and find Carlos.

And exactly as expected, he's sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you enter the room. "Buenas tardes cariño. ¿Cómo estuvo?" (Good afternoon darling, how was it). You sigh and drop back onto the sofa, leaving back on Carlos as he adjusts to put an arm around you. "Meh. Same as usual. Jane finally came up with a cover story..." Carlos hums in intrigue next to you as you explain the ins and outs of what might as well be a well constructed pyramid scheme at this point.

By the time you've finished, you feel well and truly worn out but you seek comfort in the feeling of Carlos absentmindedly rubbing shapes onto your shoulder. "I don't see what the big deal is. I mean I told Juanki ages ago." You feel your whole body tense up as you turn to Carlos... "You did what?" You're only met with Carlos' sheepish, confused face. And oh gosh, you feel like you need to lie down.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Idk who to tag so I'll tag my usual people but please let me know ow if you don't want yo be tagged in work like this:

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[theineffablesociety]

The contract is signed! The deposit taken! And the hotel room booking link is live (over on our discord: https://discord.com/invite/Z8kFr6cDyc MUST BE 18+ to join the discord but any age to attend the Meetup, thanks!)

If you won't be joining us in discord but WILL be joining us at the event, please message me so I know to account for you in our guest list.

We have a lot of fans arriving Friday, October 18 and checking out Sunday, October 20, 2024.

The Ineffable Society Meetup itself:

Saturday October 19, 2024

1pm to 10:30 or 11pm (official discussions and activities to start at 2pm.)

Sheraton at Bucks County Langhorne, Pennsylvania

If you're old enough to watch or read GOOD OMENS, you're welcome to join us! If you're under 18, you must attend with a responsible adult guardian.

We've booked 3 event spaces for our use. We will have a *masks policy* in effect in these spaces and the foyer outside these spaces to help protect vulnerable attending fans.

You don't have to pay anything to attend the Meetup! We are crowdfunding for coverage on supplies we may need and event space rental, but that is all optional.

Langhorne, PA is accessible by public transit. Join our Discord server and we can arrange pickup/drop off from the local train station (SEPTA) or Trenton Regional Rail.

If you're flying in, you'll want to either head to PHL (Philadelphia) or TTN (Trenton). We can arrange pickup/drop off from there if you're unsure about navigating further local public transit! Come chat in the Discord!

The last day to Book the hotel at our discounted room rate of $149/night will be **Wednesday, September 18, 2024**

Again, that booking link is in our Discord, but you can also message me for it directly if you're not planning to join the Discord.

Looking forward to seeing the locals, day trippers, and adventures coming in from across the country to celebrate our shared love of Good Omens!

[artficlly]

i who have known death [snippet]

heya, it's my birthday so as a treat here is a snippet from the mini-series i've been on and off working on <3 if you're interested, let me know

monster hunter!bucky x healer!reader apocalyptic fantasy marvel au [4.7k words] - - -

To my Esteemed Sisters of the Veil,

I write to you from Redhollow to inform you of my safe arrival. The journey was arduous and the roads long, but fortune spared me from any encounter with the Blight. This place is as unforgiving as the maps foretold. Its people are hardened by struggle and steeped in suspicion, and they do not look kindly upon the Veil. Yet, I remain steadfast in my purpose. In time, I hope to earn their trust.

I humbly request additional supplies so that I may begin my work in earnest. Tomorrow, I shall seek an audience with the leader of this settlement, should I be able to determine who holds such authority, and I will offer my services as a Healer of the Veil. Though I walk among those who do not welcome me, I trust in my training, in the wisdom of our order, and in the purpose that binds us. It is an honour to serve in the name of the Veil.

I who have known death.

I who have known the end.

Your hand paused over the sliver of parchment, and your metal-tipped pen was poised as you considered your words. There was more you wished to say, more that clawed at the edges of your thoughts, but the words would not come.

Hastily, you scribbled down an addition—In six months' time, I shall send word to update you on my progress. If no such correspondence reaches you within this timeframe—your hand hesitated once more, veil shifting as you titled your head. The words wavered in your mind, yet you forced your hand to move, the ink biting into the parchment—If no such correspondence reaches you within this timeframe, presume me dead.

The metal tip of the pen rattled as you shakily dipped it into your glass ink pottle, and you signed your name along the worn edge of the parchment, sealing your fate with careful strokes of black ink.

Your eyes darted beneath the black lace of your veil, scanning the cursive lettering before you. With a shaky breath, you folded the paper, tucking it into a yellowed envelope. Your writing supplies had not fared well in the swamp; everything here was always somewhat damp... or rotted. 

A sharp sigh escaped your nostrils as you tucked the sealed envelope into your satchel, swinging the small leather bag over your shoulder and fastening the strap across your ribs. The heat clung to you like a second skin—not the dry, searing kind that cracked the earth, but a thick, suffocating humidity that seeped into everything.  Each breath felt like recycling your own exhale, warm and stagnant. You had grown up beneath thinner skies, where the air was sharp and metallic, no matter how deeply you inhaled, it never quite filled you. Here, the air was different. It hung heavy, dense as murky water, sinking into your very marrow.  Even standing on solid ground, it felt as though you waded through thigh-deep mud, each movement slow, laboured.  You wouldn't be surprised if, upon splitting your ribs open, they found your lungs blooming with mould, your bones sodden with the slow rot of the swamp—nature’s decay.

The wooden stairs of the boarding house curved under your weight as you descended into the main lobby. Each time you walked across the damp-infested panels, you could imagine them buckling beneath you, disintegrating into a mash of fibre and rot. The attendant, a rather spindly man with a pointed face, looked down his nose at you, deep-lidded eyes marred with a look somewhere between disinterest and disgust as you breezed past onto the front street.

The heat that hit you was almost immediate, the black lace veil clinging to your sweat-slick face. Your long-sleeved shirt, made of a soft, breathable fabric, stuck to your back; the material soaked through. Your pants fared no better, though the loose, draped fabric hanging from the front and back—a modest, practical addition to the Sisterhood’s attire—offered some protection from the muck that splattered up as you pressed onward into the main street.  

Smoke rose from scattered chimneys, curling into the grey sky. Wooden structures stood huddled together, their warped frames blackened by damp and rot, leaning into one another as though they might collapse without the support. Redhollow was no grand city—it was a last desperation for perseverance, a fragile foothold carved into the mire. Its streets were little more than mud-choked pathways, slick and treacherous beneath the weight of passing boots and wagon wheels. The scent of wet timber, stagnant water, and the acrid bite of burning peat filled the air.

The steady rhythm of hammer on anvil echoed somewhere deeper within the settlement. Traders lingered beneath the awnings of the market square, their voices hushed, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their knives. The few souls who dared to call this place home moved with wary purpose, shoulders hunched, eyes darting to the shadows as if expecting the swamp itself to reach out and drag them back into its depths.

Beyond the tangled maze of stilted homes and sagging storefronts, the fence of great wooden stakes stood wearily, its sharpened logs slick with moisture, failing to keep the wilderness at bay. The Blood Swamp had already claimed parts of the town, its creeping roots strangling the abandoned outskirts, pulling ruined shacks down into the muck. Rusted waters were illuminated by lantern light, mist curling and beckoning, patient in its insatiable hunger.

Shaking the feeling that unseen eyes watched you from the depths, you made your way to the tavern. With a quick ease, you weaved your way through the locals who sparsely occupied the street, crossing the cobbles that seemed to sink further into the land by the second. As you walked past a group of large, burly men and their horses, you felt their suspicious glares and scowls. They held dented and scratched metal helmets under their arms, clearly armed to the teeth. Monster hunters, bounty hunters… or simply Hunters, as they referred to themselves. They were well-known in the outer areas of the Blood Swamps and shared a purpose akin to yours and your fellow Sisters of the Veil—eliminating the Bloodworm Blight.

But a synonymous purpose did not make you alike. Or, for that matter, like each other. 

You avoided eye contact, noticing the lingering scent of smoke that accompanied them. The remnants of the pyres scattered across the landscape were likely their doing. You had counted more than you could fit on two hands during your travels through The Blood Swamp. At least, you thought, it was better than the smell of decay. And the Blight that followed.

The tavern grew quiet as you entered, the stench of sweat and mildew hitting you in a wave. Men crowded around stained and scratched tables, hair slick against drenched foreheads. There was a room half-obscured by cigar smoke to your right, a lone bar at the back of the ramshackle building. You swallowed hard, suddenly grateful for the veil over your face, even if it choked your breath. You did not want these people to witness the hesitant expression that slipped through as you cautiously approached the barman at the back. 

You went to lean your forearms on the bar but paused, noticing how wet and sticky the stained wood appeared in the dim candlelight. The eyes of every man in the tavern burned into your back as you cleared your throat, drawing the attention of the barman who stood a few paces away, polishing a glass.

“I was wondering, when does your—” Your question was rudely ignored as the red-faced barman huffed.

“We don’t serve womenfolk around these parts, Sister.” He interrupted, body swivelling as he turned to serve a lone man who dared to press closer to the bar. 

You chewed your lip, fingers tapping across the leather of your satchel strap as you patiently waited for him to return. 

“Sister, it ain’t proper—” The barman sighed as he eventually drew his eyes back onto your veiled form. 

It was your turn to interrupt now. “The messenger, when is he due to arrive?”

“Arrive?” The barman chortled. “He left three days ago.”

The barman tried to turn again to serve another customer, but you stepped forward, braving the sticky bar to draw his attention back to you. “And when does he return?”

“Dunno. Sunday? Ain’t no set schedule around these parts, Sister. Hard to find one with Bloodworm attacks and all. You understand?”

Your lips pulled into a frown beneath your veil, and before you could think of a reply, the barman had dismissed you, his back fully turned to face you. Cheeks burning, you rotated yourself, facing the onslaught of watching eyes who chuckled at your humiliation. There was a murmur of what you could only assume was a warning. You’re not welcome here, Faceless Sister. 

This was hardly the reception you would’ve received back east.

You knew it was time to make a hasty retreat; the pit in your stomach told you so. Veering through the tables, your escape wasn’t as covert as you had hoped. The men leered as you passed, quiet snickering following you. 

As if the people of Redhollow hadn’t filled their bellies enough with your humiliation, two younger men blocked the entrance. One of them couldn’t have been older than twenty; he looked barely out of boyhood. His limbs were gangly, and his hair cropped short, and he had a hesitant grin across his hairless face. The other was older and larger, with blond hair swept across his forehead, arms crossed over his chest, and a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. A slight stubble ghosted his jaw, red mud long-forgotten splattered up his right shoulder and neck. 

“Sister.” The blond greeted, blue eyes quickly scanning your form. “It’s your lucky day. The boss wants to meet you.”

You paused, wavering in place. “The boss?”

Your question was left unanswered, and your feeble attempt to shimmy past the two men was aimless. A hand found your shoulder, guiding you—with some force—towards the darkened back room. 

It was a small, cramped space, maybe once a pantry to store dry goods. Now, the space was laid bare, the stench of smoke and alcohol clouding your senses even through your veil. The room was empty, aside from a rickety table and a man who sat behind it. 

He was a study in quiet menace. A leather patch obscured his left eye, showing signs of wear and cracking, with a jagged scar running beneath it from forehead to cheek. His other eye, keen and calculating, locked onto you with the focused intensity of a predator evaluating its prey. His face was weathered and hardened, framed by a coarse beard streaked with grey. However, there was no mistaking the vitality in how he held himself—every movement precise, every gesture deliberate. One gloved hand rested on the table, the leather scuffed and stained, while the other toyed absently with a blade.

“A Sister of the Veil so far from home…” The man mused, his deep voice untainted by emotion. “My name is Fury. Nick Fury.”

“You’re the mayor of this place?” You asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

Fury’s lips curved into a dry, humourless smile as a low chuckle escaped him. The two men behind you exchanged glances, their amusement silent, but their shoulders shook ever so slightly.

“Ain’t no mayors or presidents in these parts, Sister,” Fury replied, the knife still turning lazily between his fingers.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you clasped your hands before you, adopting an air of indifference to match his. If the Sisterhood had taught you anything, it was the value of never showing your true emotions. A clear mind in place of panic or fear was champion. Fury’s eye narrowed slightly, his head tilting just enough to show his careful assessment of your every move.

“The men here, I employ them,” Fury continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Huntin’ Bloodworms for the farmers in these parts.” His gaze lingered.

You tipped your head, the veil shifting just enough to observe the gangly young man who had ushered you in. His fidgeting hands betrayed his nerves despite the bravado in his earlier movements. You did not peg him as the monster-hunting type, maybe a trainee, the son of some farmer who insisted on continuing to farm his lands despite the ever-growing threat. 

“I understand,” you said, your voice flat but measured. “That is hard work. I commend you and your workers.”

You didn’t blame the farmers, even if some back east thought them foolish. Between the patchwork of red-tinged bodies of stagnant water that shimmered like pools of molten rust, there were isolated islands of firm, fertile soil. These pockets of stability offered enough foundation for farmers to stake their livelihoods. The bloody earth was unnaturally fertile, yielding crops in abundance, likely the result of thousands of forgotten bodies turned to natural compost. 

Fury’s lips twitched, but not into a smile. “Now, who did you piss off to be sent out this way?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “Or were you cocky enough to take it on and found yourself blindsided?”

Your jaw tightened, and you folded your hands tightly together. “We don’t get to choose our assignment.”

“Oh?” He feigned interest. 

“Fate chooses,” you explained, feeling a touch of defensiveness creep into your tone.

“Fate?” Fury’s scoff was low and dismissive. “Who is Fate?”

“No… it’s not…” You exhaled through your nose, searching for the words. “We pull a name—a location—from a bowl, and that is where we are sent. Fate decides where our help is needed most.”

Fury looked down his nose at you in disbelief. “So you believe fate thinks we don’t need help out here? Ain’t no Faceless Sisters past the midlands.”

“No. There are just…fewer settlements than in the east. Chance of the draw.” You replied, shrugging faintly. You could understand his point, but it didn’t sway your opinion. Fate’s Draw had remained a tradition for a reason—it prevented bias, allowing all remaining civilisations an equal opportunity to be drawn.  

Fury snorted, shaking his head as he exchanged looks with the men behind you. “So you got real shit luck then, huh?”

You met his remark with cold silence—the distant hum of conversation and laughter from the main room filtering through. There was no such thing as luck, only fate. 

He scoffed, louder this time, unruffled by your lack of response and his gaze hardened. “Right, well… you’re here now. I guess I have a proposal for you, Sister.”

“A proposal?”

“Yes.” Fury leaned forward, the blade in his hand now still, its point tapping idly against the wood, each click deliberate. His single eye observed you, gauging your reaction. “I got a team of hunters, my best crew. They’re in need of a healer. Their last one was taken by the blight some months ago.”

You stared at him through the wispy fabric of your veil, your fingers tightening around the leather strap of your satchel.

“No.” The word left your lips before you had fully considered it.

“No?” Fury’s brow arched, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief. 

“That’s not my line of work,” you clarified, your tone even. “I thank you for the offer, but—”

“You’re a healer.” Fury interrupted, and you exhaled loudly from your nose in unspoken disapproval. 

“I’m a Sister of the Veil.”

A beat of silence followed. Even the men at your back seemed to stiffen. Their wariness was not aimed at you but rather at the storm simmering beneath Fury’s composed exterior. He let out a slow exhale, his fingers flexing against the hilt of his blade before setting it aside. 

“Sister, I’m gonna be honest with you.” Fury spoke finally; his voice dropped, quiet but firm. “Ain’t none of these folk gonna trust you if you don’t prove yourself first. We don’t like outsiders in these parts, especially not eastern folk who think they know how everything works.” 

You straightened. You knew this long before you set foot in Redhollow. The westerners were a hard people, bred by hardship and distrust. Their history was carved into the lines of their faces, into the callouses on their hands. They endured, not by kindness, but by suspicion. You had expected your arrival to be treated like an ill omen, and so far, you were not disappointed.

“I’m not sure—”

“Ain’t no insult to your abilities, Sister,” Fury interrupted, his tone sharp. “But you’re gonna be sent away with your tail between your legs. If these folk don’t like you, they will make your life hell.”

Your mouth parted to speak, but Fury held up a hand, halting you mid-breath. “I’ll pay you, Sister. Hell, you do a good enough job, maybe these folk will trust you enough to like you. You could set up shop here in town—no more need to be runnin’ off with the hunters.”

Fury’s good eye remained fixed on you, unflinching, as though he could will you into submission with a stare alone. The men behind you shifted uneasily like spooked horses, the soft scrape of boots on the worn floorboards. You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as his gaze bore into you. You were an outsider, a stranger in a hostile land, surrounded by men who could easily overpower you. 

“I’m offering you a way in,” Fury continued, his voice never wavering. “I don’t got time to hold your hand and make you feel safe, Sister. So, I am offering you a chance to prove you’re more than just another outsider passing through. You think these folks will trust you if you stay holed up, tending to the sick who don’t want your help? No. You earn their trust by showing them you’re willing to stand where it’s ugly, where it’s dangerous.”  

“And if I refuse?”  

A short, humourless chuckle came from behind you. The blond man—tall, broad-shouldered, carrying himself like he’d seen more blood than peace—exchanged a glance with the one beside him. The younger said nothing, nervously looking to his feet. 

Fury shot them both a look, and the chuckle died in the blond’s throat. “You walk out that door, and you try your luck. But don’t think for a second these people will welcome you with open arms. You’ll be alone, Sister. And out here, alone ain’t a good place to be.”  

“And how can I know that I can trust you?”  

Fury didn’t react at first, his face unreadable. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers steepling beneath his chin. He spoke, his words blunt, unvarnished. “You can’t.” 

—

You quickly gathered that the Hunters to whom you had been unceremoniously promised weren’t entirely aware of the arrangement struck between you and Fury.

Peter—the younger, jumpier man tasked with escorting you to the stables—had filled the silence with hasty explanations as you braved the mud-slicked cobbles of the main street. The five men, he had told you, were called the Jackals. They were experienced Hunters, men who had lived and worked in the Blood Swamps under Fury’s command since boyhood. Barnes, their leader. Rogers and Wilson, his muscle. Barton and Maximoff, scouts—quick on their feet and skilled survivalists. 

The air inside the stables was thick, a blend of damp hay, sweat, and leather that curled in your lungs. It was cooler here but no less stifling under the weight of five sets of eyes peering at you from behind steel masks. They loomed among the horses, their bodies draped in dark, weathered leathers reinforced with plated armour.

"This some kind of sick joke, Parker?"

The voice was low, rough with displeasure. Its owner stood with his arms folded over his chest, his broad frame blocking out a good portion of the lantern light. He was built for the brutality of the hunt—his leathers, worn to a dull brown, softened by years of sweat, blood, and swamp rot. Scratched and dented plates strapped over his shoulders and forearms caught the dim light, their dull steel gleaming where grime hadn’t yet taken root. His gloves were thick, the knuckles reinforced with metal studs. His helmet, forged entirely of steel, bore the mark of a red star, indented deep into the metal and painted red. The colour had chipped away with time, leaving behind a rusted, faded outline. Through the narrow eye slits, a sliver of his gaze met yours—cold, assessing, the pale glint of a predator sizing up something foreign, something unwelcome.

"This isn’t what I meant, and Fury knows it."

The others remained silent. One of them leaned against a stable post, fingers idly tapping against the grip of his weapon—his helmet bore the symbol of a shield engraved into the surface. Another stood with one foot braced against the lower beam of a stall, absently brushing orange mud from his gloves, an empty quiver slung over one shoulder. A leaner figure, positioned slightly apart, shifted restlessly. Even behind the mask, you could sense it—the way he practically vibrated, a coil wound too tight.

You expected distrust. The Western folk had long since abandoned any love for the Veil, that had become quickly apparent. But this was different. This wasn’t a simple superstition but a raw wound that had not yet healed, and perhaps it never would.

Peter shifted beside you, clearly desperate to be anywhere but here. “She’s the healer,” he repeated, though the moment the words left his mouth, he seemed to regret them. “Fury said—”

"Well, you can march her right on back to Fury, can’t you?" Barnes’ voice was final and disdainful. "Tell him to get a proper healer while you’re at it."

You turned slightly, your head tilting as you regarded Peter through your veil. His jaw clenched, lips thinning as he glared at the Jackals. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he muttered, “You know what? Fuck this.”

He twisted on his heel, boots squelching in the mud as he stormed away. “If you wanna complain, go take it up with Fury yourself. See how far that gets you. But until you do, she’s here, and you’re stuck with her. And if you don’t listen, you’re not getting paid.”

Silence settled thick as he disappeared down the path.

"That Parker kid is getting bold," one of the Jackals muttered—the shorter man with the quiver.

"A little too bold," another agreed.

And then, their attention fell upon you.

You eased your shoulders back in quiet confidence, straightening under their scrutiny. Your prior reluctance had been gut instinct for a reason. There was no sense in pushing a foolish proposal if both parties disagreed. And yet, here you stood, bound to this arrangement whether they—or you—liked it or not. Unsure of addressing the obvious, you opted for silence not to aggravate them further. 

It seemed you would have to return to your room in the boarding house. Wait until supplies arrived and offer your services from the safety of the town’s perimeter. Hope that some hopeless bastard was desperate enough to seek your services. 

"She’s fuckin’ creepy, ain’t she? A Faceless Sister…" The voice carried a thick, lazy drawl. One of the muscle-bound men—Wilson, perhaps—sauntered closer, his boots scuffing against the packed dirt. His helmet stood out the most. Two crude wings had been welded onto either side, the dented feathers arcing back in place of ears. His gloved hand lifted, fingers curling as if he meant to lift the hem of your veil.

"You know," he mused, his tone dipped in amusement, "I heard they don’t talk ‘cause they got their mouths sewn shut. Stops the bloodworms from climbin’ in—"

You struck before he could finish.

A sharp slap to the back of his hand sent it recoiling as if burned. The movement was swift and precise. He jerked back with a yelp, cradling his wrist like a scolded child, and the Jackals erupted into laughter, a dry, humourless bark. “I don’t talk,” you said coolly, your voice measured, unwavering, “because I don’t have anything to say.”

"I don’t believe that." Barnes’ voice cut through the noise. His helmet shifted slightly as he regarded you, perceptive eyes unreadable through the slits. His arms remained folded, thick with muscle beneath his leathers. “How’d you end up here, talkin’ to us if you don’t have anythin’ to say?”

A challenge.

One tempting enough to sway your desire to return to the boarding house in milliseconds.

“Fury asked me, not the other way around.” You replied sharply, and the small, winged Jackal whistled lowly in response to your tone. 

“You gotta bit of an attitude, don’t you?” Barnes pressed closer until you could practically smell the scent of horse on his leathers, his sheer size casting a long shadow over you. “That why you got sent all the way out here? Sounds like an execution to me, it’s a death sentence out in the swamp.”

Even as your pulse ticked up, the sound of your blood pumping in your ears, you held your ground. You tilted your chin up with an air of indifference, arms crossing over your own chest to mirror him. You’d met many men like Barnes before—hard men, cruel men. Men who thought presence alone could bend others to their will.

But no matter how strong or ruthless, they all died screaming in the end. You had seen it first-hand one too many times. 

Barnes gave a sharp exhale, something between a scoff and a snarl. “You think you’re different, huh? Think you’ll last out here?”

“I didn’t come here to impress you.” You replied, pressing closer until your chests almost touched, and for the first time in six years, you wished—God, you wished—that they could see beneath your veil to glimpse the defiant smirk that curled upon your lips. “I have a job to do, and you’re standing in my way.”

A rumble of amusement passed between the Jackals. The leaner, energetic one, with a white lighting strike painted across his mask, let out a low chuckle. “Cold, this one.”

“Cold don’t mean shit out here,” another muttered, the edges of the shield engraved onto the side of his helmet catching in the lantern light.

Barnes considered your words while his pack bickered and finally spoke up, voice low. “You afraid of dying, Sister?” He asked.

"No." Your answer was simple and unwavering. "Do you not know the word of my creed?"

Silence met you, so you spoke once more. 

“I who have known death.” Your hand raised to your left shoulder as you cut a motion diagonally downwards, the repeated on your right as you drew out an X across your chest. “I who have known the end.”

The masked Jackals looked between each other, a silent consideration between the group. The archer, his helmet adorned with a painted arrow curving like a mohawk, gave you a slow nod—an acknowledgement, perhaps, or a sign of reluctant respect.

“I imagine you’re the type to have seen the end, hm? You have that look in your eye, the look of a man who understands that death is a forgiving mistress.” Your head slanted as you stared into Barnes’ eyes through the black lace, and you could’ve sworn he held his breath. “No, I am not afraid of death. I embrace it. I would much rather be dead than become a blightborn monstrosity.” 

Barnes let out a slow, guttural exhale, almost a growl, his head tilting slightly as if in consideration. Your words had struck true, just enough to cause the Hunter to pause and think.

"Can you ride?"

It wasn’t just a question. No, it was an offer—an invitation. Something in your response had turned his opinion and earned his unspoken approval. 

"Yes."

"Can you fight?"

You inclined your head, letting the question hang before answering. “Yes.”

His silence stretched, his stare pressing down on you even through his mask. “If you fall behind, we won’t wait for you.”

“I understand.”

His shoulders eased slightly as if considering something unstated, and he hesitated a fraction of a second too long before shifting his weight and turning away towards his horse. The others took this as a cue, dispersing to their horses and readying to mount up. 

“Got everything you need in that tiny bag of yours, Sister?” One called back to you, the one with lighting painted across his helmet, a mocking glint to his tone. 

You didn’t respond. But inwardly, you smiled.

They wouldn’t understand.

[testrella]

you're my religion priest! s. geto x f!reader pt.1→pt.2

synopsis: y/n moved into a small and tight knit town to take care of her elderly grandmother. what happens when she attends a sermon with her grandmother, and finds herself lusting over someone she cannot have.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen ⌗ priest suguru geto x female reader⌗ modern au content warnings: mild cursing, smut, head (giving), religious themes(?), slight degrading at the end, angst(?) public sex, NSFW.

author's note: over 11k words, u guys have fun

“..in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. amen.”

father geto finishes off the sermon with the routine prayer. he takes the opportunity being on stage to scan the loyal audience. it was the regular, older people he preaches to. the same people who boast about him being so devoted to God at such a young age. how that when they were his age, they were off sinning. he thinks about the constant praises about being a young devoted follower, but it immediately stops when he sees her. 

a young lady, who seemed to be around the same age as him, sitting in the very back with an elderly woman. even though she was dressed as modestly as possible, the black floor length dress immersed your body in all the right places.

when did he allow his immoral thoughts come to mind

 “oh father! you must meet mrs. johnson’s granddaughter- maybe you can convince her to turn to God.” an elder of the church whispered to the priest. she gently pulled him to the side, off of the stage. 

“as you must have heard by now, edith’s grandbaby is out of control. rumor has it that she’s been caught using multiple different contraband, and premarital sex! can you believe edith would allow this to go on for so long?!”

geto mentally sighs, gossiping was always an issue at church. especially since it was located in a very small town, there wasn't much to talk about. when you were new to town, the locals went wild. fabricating very detail of your life, and spouting that nonsense through their teeth.

“with respect dear mary, the scripture speaks strongly against gossip. i’ll talk to the young lady, but please watch yourself. for there is no greater sin than sin.”

she nods while looking down, unable to meet geto’s gaze. too embarrassed to voice her concern furthermore, she mutters “yes father, please forgive me.”

“i am not the one you should be asking for forgiveness, ask the man above. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll introduce myself to the newest member of our church.” he smiles gracefully before making his way towards mrs. johnson and her ‘scandalous’ granddaughter. 

he takes small steps towards you, puffing his chest out as he walks with a sense of pride. sure you were a pretty girl, but he was only interested to guide you through your religious journey. 

“father geto, i introduce you to my granddaughter. this is y/n. she’s only 20, and she recently moved into town to take care of me. isn’t she the kindest?”

he loses his train of thought. he's unable to bring himself to utter a single word. you were much more gorgeous up-close. if he were to describe your beauty, he’d be too overwhelmed, and wouldn’t know where to start. maybe he’d start with the way your nose fits your face perfectly. or, how your smile molded perfectly with your faint smile lines. 

geto snaps out of his trance, and quickly introduces himself. 

“i’m father geto. welcome to this church, i hope your stay has been great so far.” he purred. 

you squint your eyes at him. almost as if you already knew the rumors going around. nonetheless, you shake his hand. 

“like my grandma said, i’m y/n. i do hope we cross paths alone in the future.”

he blushes from the way you shaked his hand, but also put your other hand on his. solidifying the handshake more than it needed too. not only that, the last comment you made. crossing paths.. alone?

“my confessional booth is always open before my sermon, and at 9 PM on sundays. if that’s what you mean of course.” 

you puff your chest out and let out a dramatic sigh. taking in your arms, and letting them rest to your side, you open your mouth to speak. he stares at your lips, refusing to make eye contact.

“the sermon did end, i guess i’ll have to see you later tonight.” you assured him before walking over to your grandmother who made conversation with someone else. he watched you walk away, allowing himself to sneak a peek from behind. 

later that day, geto was having lunch. he finds himself unable to focus on his best friend's story, the words going in one ear and out the other. all the plays in his mind is you, and what you could possibly up to.

“satoru, i think i was seduced today after my sermon.” he spilled out, no longer able to contain his thoughts. 

“gross! how old was she? 50? 69? HA, get it? 69?” 

geto rolls his eyes at the blue eyed ‘man’ who acted immaturely any chance he got. maybe he really should have kept his thoughts to himself. it was better than trying to converse it with an actual man-child.

“goodness satoru, no. she was a few years younger than me. 4 years to be exact. she’s one of the elder’s granddaughter, and the way she spoke to me made me feel like i was sinning. i didn’t even do anything!”

“well..”

his eyebrow quirks as satoru began his sentence. 

“did she have big tits?” 

geto’s face quickly turned from curiosity to disgust. he abruptly stood up from the table, placing both hands on it for support, and got all up in satoru’s face.

“how could you ever speak so unashamedly about a lady like that?! let alone speak like that in front of a priest!”

“well forgive me father, i didn’t mean to offend you and your girlfriend,” satoru said sarcastically while putting his hands up defensively. “i’ve said worse, and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. she must’ve had big tits for you to go all preacher mode on me.“  

as much as geto didn’t want to admit it, satoru was right. there were many time's geto allowed the white haired man to say the most diabolical stuff known to man. even listening when satoru would describe women’s bodies in detail and occasionally his one night stands. why was this any different?

“excuse me, is that you father?” 

there is was.

the seductive voice he met only hours ago. both boys slowly turn their heads to the h/c girl standing right in front of them. their eyes met with the beauty talked about earlier. only now you were wearing a shorter version of the dress you wore earlier. 

“m-miss. y/n? i’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. what brings you here?” 

you only acknowledge one of the two men in front of her, and of course it was geto. your eyes met his, and never shifted away. it was almost like a dance of temptation, daring him to do further than just eye contact. the dark aura coming from you was overwhelming him, or maybe it was just your strong perfume. 

“i apologize for the disruption, father geto. my grandma asked me to run some errands. i guess i’ll have to speak with you later tonight.“ 

before geto could get a word in, you once again walk off. just like before, he once again glances down there. 

forgive me Lord, for i have sinned. 

“dude what the fuck was that..” the white haired man questioned. he also noticed the thick tension that was stirred by non other than you.

“i d-don’t know. i cannot see her tonight. i’m scared she might tempt me into.. into doing something that’s against the scripture.”

he now finds himself in the confessional booth, anxiously waiting for your arrival. it was currently 9:47 PM, you were late. it did not help his anxiety at all. he’d give you until 10:15 for you to arrive. anything later would have to just be scheduled on another sunday. 

he lets out a deep breath before he hears the clattering of heels. geto takes a peak out of his curtain only to be met with a sultry gaze. he quickly closes off his curtain, and subconsciously wipes his sweaty palms on his lap. this was like any other confessional, there was nothing to be conspicuous. 

“father geto? are you there?“ you ask in a voice just above a whisper. 

geto swallows whatever was in his mouth before speaking.

 “of course i am.“ 

“ahem, forgive me father. i have sinned since i first moved into this town. actually, i sinned today after the sermon.“ 

he stays silent. he’s tempted to ask what you’ve done, and if it possibly had something to do with him. but you answer his unspoken questions before he can think about it for too long.

“before moving into this lovely town, my grandmother sent me a picture of her priest. goodness, i didn’t know what to do with myself.“ 

he was determined to stay stoic, and not to speak unless it was to say a prayer. but her hushed voice and the strong tension made it difficult. the air seemed to thicken every time she finished a sentence. geto couldn’t escape your magnetic pull of lust.

“a-and if i may ask, what did you do to deal with your problem?”

“i couldn’t resist myself. after i saw the photo of him, i began to have lewd thoughts. every night leading up to my departure, i’d touch myself thinking about him. then..”

she lets out a small moan, but geto would describe it as a small whine. now he was breathing heavily as his boxers started to tighten up. there was no way he could get hard in the church. it was sinful. but he was here to help you, and allowed you to continue.

“i met him today. after the sermon i started using objects to make myself feel satisfied. but it was nothing compared to his large hands shaking my hand. i can only imagine him using his hands going inside of me instead of holding a bible. even now, i cannot resist his voice..” you confessed as heavy breathing came from your end. 

“..come over to my side dear. let me help you.” he whispered.

you waste no time he notes from the sounds coming from the other side. your heels clacked once or twice before you pulled the curtain from his side. 

he studies your face very carefully. there was a light red tint spreading across your cheeks, and your ears were bright red. his eyes then wander down to your very revealing shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. the shirt was accompanied by a matching skirt, a very, VERY, short skirt.

you walk into the tight fitting booth. before he can get his hands on you, you kneel down in between his legs. your pretty little head lays on his left thigh.

“forgive me father. how can i ever make you forgive me for my sins?” you lift your head and your hands start to wander on the edge of his pants. “tell me father, there must be a way..”

geto feels a bead of sweat going down his forehead. there were many times that grandparents introduced their grandchildren to him, in hopes they get married. or, when satoru would convince him to agree to a blind date. his answer of rejection was always the same. 

‘i am devoted to the man above, i musn’t be distracted.’ 

where was his reasoning of rejection when he watches you pull both his pants and undergarments off? 

you grab his dick and painfully slowly lick the tip of it. leaving any pre-cum on his tip, now in your mouth. a slight moan leaves his mouth. this was a pleasure that he’s never experienced before. devoting all 24 years of his life to God has never brought this much fulfilment. 

where was his reasoning of rejection when you put his whole dick in your mouth without any hesitation?

your sudden move of deep throating him caught him off guard. he’s now holding your head in a gentle manner, as gentle as he can be. geto is lost at words, he can only moan uncontrollably while playing with your hair. the only thing he can fixate his eyes on was your beautiful hair getting tangled into his fingers. 

where was his reasoning when you made him finish in under five minutes even though it felt like an eternity for him?

you continue to suck him off, hollowing your cheeks for a better suction. your hands wander down to his balls, giving it a small massage. you're not sure what you did right, but it worked. geto was now praising your name instead of the lord’s. he feels an unfamiliar knot unwinding itself. 

“y/n.. please i feel..” he lets out a breathy moan instead of finishing his sentence. his eyes shut close to full enjoy the euphoric feeling. why did he want to reject your advances in the first place? he can't seem to remember. 

“father..” you cooed while taking off his shirt. of course, the hot pastor with a big dick was also very nicely built.

“oh geto, why do you hide this from me?”

your hands wander his chest then it starts to follow his happy trail. your movement was haltered when he reached out for your chest.

“the same could be said for yourself. show yourself to me, please. i beg.”

his eyes looked like a puppy who had been kicked. there was no sane woman in the world who would say no to his violet eyes. your hand then reaches out for his, and then place his hand on the hem of your shirt.

“take it off for me, father geto.”

being enchanted with your hypnotic gaze, it drew him like a moth to a flame. he lifted your shirt, taking your bra off as well, and stared with admiration. you had an art of seduction that was compared to no other. he watches you sit on his lap as you lift your skirt. 

this is sin. he was sinning. 

but he didn’t stop you as you sat slowly onto his dick, moaning in joy. he watches you go up and down painfully slow.

“c-can you go a little faster..?“ he moaned into your ear. being too embarrassed by his request, he buries himself on the side of your neck. taking in your scent, leaving small pecks on the spots you sprayed perfume. 

“you’re t-too big geto~” you whined into his ear before you attached your lips onto his. 

he was an inexperienced kisser. an inexperienced everything actually. it was easy for you to take the lead by biting onto his bottom lip. he opened his mouth to let out a small whine of pain and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in. 

you feel yourself juices slide down your thigh onto geto’s lap as you continue to bounce on his dick. large hands start groping your ass, giving you a smack on one of your cheeks. you yelp in response. it was unexpected from a priest.

“father, use me. be as rough as you want with me.” your hands start undoing his bun, turning his hair into a disheveled mess. 

“i-i shouldn't be so mmm- rough on you.” 

you felt honored by his insistence on being so gentle. his grip on your waist tells you a different story. it was obvious he wanted to go faster than the pace you set.

“please geto, for me at least.”

oh, how could he ever deny your requests? 

his grip on your waist tightens as he lifts you up and rams into you. all pent up sexual frustrations he’s ever had in the past 24 years are being taken out on you. throughout the heavens and earth, you were his only sole purpose in life. the way you took him in so good without any complaints was proof enough. 

marks form on his shoulder and back from the scratches you were leaving. it was the only way you could hold yourself up. if not, you’d fall right into his arms while he’d continue to show no mercy on your pussy. 

geto was starting to feel what he felt earlier when you were in between his legs. his eyes gaze at yours, and gets a site he’d never unsee. small tears started forming, threatening to leave your eyes. your mouth agape as one hand held onto his shoulder, the other groping yourself.

“father geto, i-i’m ahh, i’m so close~”

on sync, the both of you came at the very same time.

geto found it more ironic than disgust when he saw the scene unfold. priest of six years, never had a temptation once in those six years. his lap was now covered in cum from not only his but the new girl in town. the new girl who easily seduced him

“forgive us lord, for the father and i have sinned.” you purred right into his ear, almost biting it. 

he massages your waist before finally putting you on your two feet. you're barely able to stand up without the support of the wall.

"y/n, we can never do this again. never speak to me unless it's about my sermon."

now it was his turn to leave before you could get a word in. he pulls his pants up and swiftly puts his shirt back on.

"you were sent by the devil, and i've failed my lord. stay far away from me you whore."

[kokomos]

𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗡

abby anderson relationship headcanons

  + Abby's the girl who says hello to everyone in the morning and will never fail to thank the people working around base. She's a sweetheart at her core and it's the reason you two got together. She's so friendly that it's almost unknown for her not to get along with someone or at least try to.

+ Definitely tries to impress you with her strength, she knows you've got a thing for her muscles so she'll be sure to show 'em off whenever she's got the chance.

+ Goes to the gym every day, she's one of those people who's hardcore dedicated to their routine. She'd love it if you visited her while she's there working out!! It would make her so happy to have you join her, she'll guide you patiently through all the new equipment so you can get a feel of what you wanna try. Definitely will use anything as an excuse to put her hands on you. She's so cute, she'll give you encouraging rubs on the back after you complete a set.

  - "You did so good, babe! Wanna keep going?"

+ Always has you over at her place, she kicks Manny out for the night so you two can be alone.

+ Basically makes you wear her clothes; after a night together at hers she'll give you one of her favorite shirts to keep. She thinks you're the cutest in her stuff because it's always a little too big on you. Having everyone in the cafeteria see you in her attire is just more incentive to the cause.

+ On occasion, she lets herself enjoy a quiet, lazy afternoon spent with you.

+ Unfortunately for you she takes enjoyment in tickling other people; specially reserved for only those she's closest with. She doesn't go all out, usually a sneak attack of a side tickle but sometimes, sometimes she goes in for the kill. She can have you under her within seconds and it's used to her advantage greatly.

+ Soft dominant. She's had to make a leader out of herself since her father's death meaning she'd rather you take the backseat while she takes care of things.

+ Abby isn't the biggest on physical touch, she wouldn't be constantly touching you like some people would. Affection from you, either alone or with friends, is always welcomed with loving arms though. She prefers expressing her love for you through quality time in your company or doing simple favors to help you out.

+ That being said, she's the kind of girlfriend who will let you take her by the arm or spontaneously grab your hand while walking up behind you.

+ Tilts your face by the chin when she kisses you. Her fingers are so blissfully light on your skin like she's trying her hardest to be as gentle as possible with you.

+ She really is so tender and delicate with you. Always giving you the lightest touches when her fingers inevitably end up tracing the curves on your body.

+ On the other hand, she can show her true strength if you want it. She can pin you down so easily; she can't resist teasing you about your weak muscles (of course she'll follow it with a kiss to avoid your pouting).

  - "See, babe, this is why you have to go to the gym more. What if I was an attacker?"

+ She will more than volunteer to teach you about self-defense, weapons, etc. Actually, if you don't know that stuff already she'll force you to attend a mini class of hers.

+ Such a good teacher, her patience makes learning from her a breeze. Comes at a cost when she’s almost always assigned to training the newbies because of this unmatched skill of hers.

+ If you're a soldier, too, she tries to convince Isaac to let you two stay on the same assignments. Nine times out of ten he says no, it'll be a rare occasion when he gives in to Abby's relentless arguing.

+ She patches you up after missions!! No one else can be trusted to tend to you. You deserve to be babied 100% and anything less than that is unacceptable in her eyes. She ends up staying with you for a couple nights checking up on you near constantly to monitor your condition. It doesn't matter if it's just a couple cuts, she's treating it like a broken leg when it comes to you.

+ With Manny's help, she begins writing you little love letters. Mostly they're innocent messages with her declaring just how cute she thinks you are and how much she loves you. Simple, yet so effective. She knows you cherish each and every one she's written.

+ A sentimentalist at heart! Aside from her coin collection, she has a stash of memorabilia from days in the past to keep the moment and the feelings associated alive. Give her a flower you casually picked from one of the bushes around the base and it'll be drying in a book under her bed so she can keep it forever.

+ When you two get into an argument, she tries to hold back her honesty but it slips out in hurtful ways more often than not. She has a problem of not working with you as a team to solve the issue; Abby views any conflict as a fight and she wants to win more than anything. When this unavoidably makes you upset, she realizes she's done wrong and takes back whatever she's said. Fortunately, arguments never last long and they without exception end with some cuddling.

  - "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I care about you so much…"

+ Very good at reading you, it's half scary and half comforting. You don't need to use a lot of words to get your point across with her, she understands you completely.

+ After you two date for awhile, she realizes how much time she spends away from home and you. She has a talk with Isaac to take shorter trips around less dangerous areas essentially taking a step down in her position.

+ Dreams of following in her father's footsteps by working in the med unit, she knows she can't be a soldier for long; not when she's got a whole future with you to live for.

— ♡☆