#beautiful chaos doctor who

[tardis-technician]

please read Beautiful Chaos

[Image ID: Screenshots of text from the doctor who novel Beautiful Chaos. It reads "The Doctor just threw a look at Donna that he thought said 'help' but Donna clearly took to mean 'no, it's OK, ignore me, oh and right now would be the time to pick a really good fight with your mum'. So Donna did.” /. End ID]

#you guys this book is so so good and this scene is fucking superb #doctor and donna #donna noble #tenth doctor #tenth doctor novels #beautiful chaos doctor who #paradox posts

[clarionglass]

so i have been bitten by the sam reich!master bug courtesy of some phenomenal art by @northernfireart and uh. as is too often the case i had to write something otherwise if i didn't get it out of my brain i would go absolutely insane

(there may be more vignettes coming if i have ideas..... there are definitely other episodes i'd like to give the Treatment to, plus with the new dw series coming out on the weekend i may have ideas for how to incorporate the dw gang! however, i promise neither more writing or no more writing. that said, this was a lot of fun so there'll probably be more at some stage :D )

this has full spoilers for the game changer ep "escape the greenroom", but hey that's been out for a while now so,,,, if you haven't seen it i'd highly recommend it as an episode!

so, without further ado:

--

Samuel Dalton was a complete fiction, of course, but that didn't mean that when Sam Reich snuck back upstairs to get tied up in the “out of order” bathroom, the Sam that remained on the monitor, laughing at the contestants, was a pre-recording. And if Brennan, Siobhan and Lou had snorted at the idea of a time-travelling evil magician great-grandfather (for good reason), going in with the actual truth of the matter would have sounded like jumping the shark.

It sounded bizarre, but the time travel bit was the only part about his new partner in crime that was confirmably real. Admittedly, the jury was still out on “evil”—he gave off a weird vibe at times, but so far, no lines had been crossed, and it had all been funny as hell—so for now, Sam was willing to roll with it. But perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn’t even the possibility of blood relation between Samuel Dalton Reich and the guy who had shown up out of the blue one day with his exact face and a plan to really fuck around with things on Game Changer.

Yeah, the whole alien thing had really ruled out that particular prospect.

There had been various bits and pieces of confirmation that this guy wasn’t human through the time Sam had known him, but the final nail in the coffin for that one was when his doppelganger had looked him dead in the eye and tried on one of the heart rate monitors—sorry, “range extenders”—for As a Cucumber. The damn thing had literally sparked up, then died completely. Trying to process input from two separate heartbeats at once would do that, apparently. 

His doppelganger was a Time Lord, or so he had nonchalantly said one afternoon in casual conversation, though Sam still wasn’t sure if that one was a joke or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes, because he said the wildest things with the straightest face, and so far, most of them had turned out to be one hundred percent certifiably true. The time travel, the space travel, even the changing faces thing—it sounded objectively insane, but the proof was undeniable. 

There were some notable exceptions, though. Saying he’d been trapped for aeons inside Neil Patrick Harris’s gold tooth went just that bit too far to be believable, though Sam did appreciate his double’s slightly warped sense of humour.

It was that offbeat line of thinking that lent itself well to game design, as it turned out. He had a knack for coming up with ideas for Game Changer episodes, albeit with the occasional suggestion that went way beyond the bounds of good taste, and, as in the case of Escape the Greenroom, had devised some blinding twists on concepts Sam had already half-formed. The letter puzzle unlocking the secret door? It was perfect.

Understandably, Sam’s doppelganger had wanted to observe the fruits of their labours in real time, rather than watching the recording later. It happened, sometimes, particularly when it was one of his ideas that had made it through to the episode list—they’d swap places for a session, with nobody being any the wiser. Watching those edits back always felt a bit weird—it was uncanny how flawless the mimicry was—but hey, the guy was right. It was always fun.

Escape the Greenroom, specifically, with its “Samuel Dalton” conceit, provided them with a unique opportunity. Instead of swapping out the camera feed for a recording when the cast piled into the tiny secret room behind the wall, as per the original plan to get Sam in position to be discovered in the bathroom, they could just swap out the people. Sam would go upstairs, and his double would take his place at the podium, ducking out of sight when everyone came back to the main stage to “defuse the bomb”.

Sam was keen—hell, if their situations had been reversed, he’d want to be there to watch, too—but caution raised a flag. “You don’t think it’s too risky?” he’d asked when the subject was first raised. “Both of us being in the same place?”

His doppelganger had shrugged one shoulder with supreme unconcern. “The crew won't notice.”

At the time, Sam had shot him a sceptical look, but right now, Sam-Reich-in-a-purple-tie and Sam-Reich-in-an-orange-tie were standing backstage post-record, clearly visible and and calmly chatting, and not a single member of the crew had given them so much as a second glance. 

…Hardly even a first glance, come to think about it. If anyone looked over their way, their eyes seemed to… not exactly go through them, but slide over the two of them like water. He was tempted to wave to Nico or Ash or someone, just out of pure curiosity, but something in the back of his mind told him that wouldn’t be the world’s greatest idea. He had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like to see what would happen next.

(He’d given the prop bomb back to the crew once the cameras stopped rolling, and though it looked the same as the one he remembered from before he’d headed upstairs, it felt different in his hands. Heavier, more… serious, somehow. He was sure nothing would have happened—but at the same time, he was suddenly very glad that the cast had cut the correct wire with no less than a minute fifteen to go.)

(The jury was still out on evil, after all.)

“Worth coming in for?” he asked instead.

“Absolutely,” his double replied with relish. “Locking those three in a small room for an hour? Brilliant, fantastic. Inspired. It was absolute chaos.”

“Have you seen up there?” Sam asked, a smile starting to spread across his face. “They messed up the set real bad.”

His doppelganger smirked at him. “You know it took literally two seconds from you telling them to escape the greenroom for Lou to smash that guitar?”

Sam shook his head. “Oh my god. Yeah, they were stressed.” 

“Mmm. Some real panic in that room,” his doppelganger agreed, and Sam chose to ignore the faint note of satisfaction in his voice.

He shifted his weight, settling back to lean against the table behind the set, in the exact instant his double decided to do the same thing. It really was freaky how similar they were, down to the smallest mannerism—like looking in a mirror, only weirder, because the face that looked back at him was truly his own face, not mirror-reversed. Even now, it still caught Sam off guard from time to time, but at least it had faded into a more comfortable kind of strange. He had an exact lookalike who was an actual time-travelling alien. Cool. Doesn’t everyone?

The pair shared a companionable silence for a few moments, before a thought Sam had been turning over for a while rose to the top of his mind. He shifted again, this time on his own, and he felt his double’s regard swing up to fix on him like a magnet. 

“Okay, real talk,” he started, and his doppelganger frowned back in an approximation of confused innocence. “What’s all this for?”

“Who says it has to be for anything? Aren't we just having fun?”

Sam hummed, considering. “Yeah. No, I'd believe that, if I didn't sometimes walk into production meetings and find out I'd apparently been very specific about the people I wanted for certain episodes.”

“Point for Sam,” his doppelganger acknowledged with a grin. “You got me. Wasn’t hard to make a few phone calls on our joint behalf.”

“Yeah, but why?” Sam pressed. “I mean, Siobhan, Brennan and Lou are always great comedy value when you put them together, and it was awesome to have them for this, but I get the feeling you’re thinking of something other than making good content.”

“Who, me?”

With that, his double gave him a look of such overdone pantomime innocence that Sam suddenly and thoroughly understood why, not half an hour earlier, Brennan had very seriously threatened to push him down the stairs. 

He rolled his eyes, which earned him a smirk for his troubles.

Dropping the act, his doppelganger continued. “I’m expecting an… old friend, I guess, to show up at some point, and—well, I’d like to put on a really special show for them. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a few things out, you know?”

Ominous pause aside, that was actually kind of sweet. Sweeter than he’d been expecting, that’s for sure—he was half anticipating the revelation that he and his cast were subjects in some weird experiment. Hey, that still couldn’t fully be ruled out, but still.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Well… just let me know, next time? Before you start ordering in my cast like takeout?”

“Who says they’re your cast?” his double shot back with a twinkle in his eye, and Sam snorted.

“Fine. Our cast, then. But seriously, let me know?”

His doppelganger nodded, which, if not quite fully convincing, was good enough. 

“Oh, and do you know when your friend might be arriving?” Sam asked. “Because if you wanted to plan something, we can—”

“I don’t know,” his doppelganger interrupted. “So yeah, we’ll have to move fast when they do get here. But I’ve got it under control.”

He broke off, then shot Sam a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, though, I’ve had this fun thought about time loops…”

#sam reich!master #sam reich #the master #dw #doctor who #game changer #dropout #dropout tv #northernfireart #clari speaks #clari writes #in posting this i am fully aware that sam reich is a real human being who uses the internet and fuck. if this escapes containment. #mr reich sir if you ever see this i can only apologise but it was truly fucking funny to write #oh btw i imagine that reich!master asked for those specific 3 because across em you've got a good spread of personality traits #that the doctor and their companion(s) would have #we've got the monologues and the high-stakes-all-the-time from brennan. #we've got the puzzle focus and the 'oh this is my first time in this kinda situation' from game changer newbie siobhan #and lou is just. pure and beautiful chaos #plus they're all very smart and creative mfers #so it's a good test run

[legok9]

Doctor Who

Beautiful Chaos (2008)

‘The BBC were telling everyone to stay indoors. Fairchild has declared a state of emergency.’

‘Fairchild?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Prime Minister,’ Lukas said with a sigh. ‘Don’t you know anything?’

‘I know lots of prime ministers,’ the Doctor said. ‘But in this century they come and go annually, I think. This one clearly makes no impression on history.’

What was once exaggerated satire has become the reality of British politics.

#doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #uk politics #liz truss #uk prime minister #beautiful chaos #Aubrey Fairchild

[doctordonna-protection-squad]

Almost done reading “Beautiful Chaos” and it’s killing me with feels. Wilf asks Donna what makes her happy and she “without missing a beat” looks at the Doctor? She calls him “my little spaceman” in a letter to her mum?

I swear, I’ll be doing some more ooc posts for these books soon.

#doctor who #tenth doctor #donna noble #dw #david tennant #catherine tate #doctordonna #tendonna #ten x donna #doctor x donna #beautiful chaos

[tangerinesteve]

Im currently on a doctor who watch and im watching 12 and i just... if you see me over here foaming at the mouth over peter capaldi.... no you don't

#im just minding my own business and this beautiful scottish idiot has crawled into my brain #he's a chaos demon with sonic specs and im in love with him #doctor who #twelfth doctor #mine #peter capaldi

[causalityparadoxes]

The ven diagram of the fans Doctor Who is being aimed for and the fans making Doctor Who is a circle babey!

#doctor who #dw #rambles #and sometimes that sucks! and sometimes its great! but its always beautiful chaos

[claraoswalds]

The human race makes sense out of chaos. Marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars. This whole process is beautiful, but only if it's being observed.

DOCTOR WHO (2005-present)

#dwedit #doctor who #usertennant #usertoph #userteri #userveronika #userdiana #miatendos #rose tyler #jackie tyler #mickey smith #tenth doctor #donna noble #wilfred mott #eleventh doctor #clara oswald #twelfth doctor #first doctor #* #im gonna be honest. i was not sober when i made this. so if this is ugly that's why <3 #anyway i'm hoping i can watch ncuti's special sometime tmrw night but it might have to wait til the 26th #in the meantime tho once it airs i'll be offline to avoid seeing any spoilers #so merry christmas!!!!!!

[r3ynah]

I love my woman Madeline Fenton so much, I love and hate the way people portray her as the villain, that will kill her own children because of her hatred for ghosts.

Like my girl would change sides the moment she finds out her son is a ghost, yeah she might lock herself up in a room for days or so, i mean who wouldn't, you just found out your son has died and you as his parents were nowhere to be seen, but after that she'll be so supportive about Danny's hero life and would do her best to help her little man. the same goes for Jack.

__

Maddie wanting to help her son and daughter more, she applied at the watchtower as a scientist and a doctor for extra money and a new hobby, she ofcourse got the job, i mean she was very smart and she knew it too.

Maddie kissed her husband goodbye, as she teleported to the watchtower, using her own handmade teleporter gun, which came handy for all times.

green light surrounded her as she disappeared from her home, and appeared in the meeting room, she was called during her day off, and only told her that it was urgent and the scientist's help was needed greatly.

she expected and prepared for every worse scenario that'll she'll meet once she turned her head around, what she didn't expect was to see her son, in his phantom form taunting a certain grouchy boss of hers, it seemed like the sound of her teleporting got everyone's attention including the ghost boy, who stared at her with shock, and stopped his chaos before floating down onto the floor to stand and fidget awkwardly.

"Phantom" Maddie greeted.

"Dr. Fenton" Phantom greeted back with a nervous smile.

"What did you do this time?" Madeline sighed, she loved her baby but sometimes he can be too much.

"Hey! I didn't do anything this time." Phantom said offended "the amount of trust you have of me is so motivating" He dramatically added, which maddie just sighed at.

"Phantom, you know Dr.Fenton?" Batman questioned, his face even more grouchier because of this information that he didn't know

"Ofcourse I do, this wonderful and beautiful woman right here is Madeline Fenton, one of the most smartest woman I know" Phantom proudly stated, while circling the said Doctor.

"Flattery won't make me not tell your dad, that you've joined the Justice league without telling us." Maddie scolded him.

"Im sorry, please don't tell dad, mom"

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dpdc #maddie fenton #madeline fenton #batman #JL #justice league #good parents jack and maddie

[angxlofvenus]

hi, hi, hi! could I request the brothers + diavolo during a meeting together when their s/o (the mc) starts to doze off and then suddenly faint? Turns out, the MC forgot to drink water that day-

That happened to mr a few days ago, it wasn't fun - so here's a reminder for you to drink some water too :')

Thank you so much for the request!!! I am so so sorry to hear that happened, I hope you're doing better <3 If anything in this post seems insensitive please let me know! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night

Genre: Mostly fluff, Some Hurt/Comfort Ship: Demon Brother+Diavolo x reader (individual) TW: Minimal cussing, mentions of fainting, mass panic, yelling, second person pov for reader (If I missed anything please tell me!!)

When You Faint

You watched as the clock slowly ticked by the minutes as the Demons around you spoke amongst themselves, Your talking had slowly come to a stop as the room started to spin, Some of the men looked at you strangely but nobody expected you to fall out of your chair and onto the council room floor...

Lucifer

He's immediately up out of his chair

Oh lord, he’s now fully in mother mode-

Barking orders at everyone, Yes this includes Dia

As soon as he gets over to you his wings are out, shielding you from everyone else

Once you come to, He isn’t letting you out of his sight

And once he finds out you fainted because of dehydration? 

He would so buy you one of those big ass waterbottles 

One of these mfs

Mammon

Freaking out pt. 1

Definitely hootin’ and hollering

He is indeed making a scene

Won’t really be on you until after you wake up because he knows Lucifer and Diavolo can do more for you then he can

After you have awoken though? He isn’t letting you out of his sight

You don’t have to worry about remembering to drink water, He’s there to remind you now!

Humans are such fragile creatures and now that he's seen that firsthand, He will barely let you do anything

He will make sure you are healthy whether you like it or not dammit

Levi

Freaks out pt. 2

Somehow freaking out even more then Mammon

He doesn’t know what to do! He leaves his room one time and this is what happens!

Will kind of just stand there in shock as everyone erupts into chaos

He isn’t the best example of someone who looks after their body lets be honest

But when ya’ll are gaming You’ll start to see some more healthy options popping up in the mix of chips and soda

He will beat himself up over not noticing, Please comfort this man before he decides you resent him

He won’t ever really bring it up but rest assured, It will never happen again

Satan

Would also run to your aid

He has read a lot of medical books in his time, He knows what to do

Would take you to a doctor afterwards, just in case

Kind of beats himself up for being unaware of your condition

I don’t think he’d freak out as badly after the incident, He knows it was probably a one time thing

Will bring up in conversation casually if you’ve eaten and drank water today, just to be sure

Asmo

Screams

Freaks out pt. 3

Yelling at Lucifer/Satan to do something!

Will be all over you as soon as you’re awake

Don’t scare him like that! 

Will get extra pouty when he learns why you passed out

Has Ya’lls self-care sessions meant nothing to you?!

No more of that, not on his watch

He will offer you water at random times throughout the day

Studying? Water! Watching Tv? Water! Sleeping? Water! no, no, Beauty sleep is important

Beel

Doesn’t knows what's happening, Why are you on the floor?

Will stand on the sidelines concerningly as he watches Lucifer take over, He trusts his brother to help you

Will also feel immense guilt he didn’t see the signs, He just wants to keep everyone safe 🙁

When he thinks Ya’ll are doing something too straining for a human, He’ll stop to ask if you’re okay/ need a break

Will start carrying around a water bottle specifically for you 

Belphie

He totally wasn’t sleeping when it happened, nope

Woke up to his brothers and the Prince of the Devildom freaking out around you

I don’t think he’d really get too involved with helping since he doesn’t actually know wtf just happened

If you don’t immediately perk back up, He’s gonna cuss out Lucifer and maybe try to fight him

Gets a little snappy at everyone (except you ofc) after the incident

He even started to set alarms on your DDD as reminders to drink water

Will tease you just a teeny bit, But you can tell how worried the entire thing actually makes him

Diavolo

Was over to you in record time

Commands everyone to step back from you while he calls Barbatos and a royal doctor

You will be given the best treatment don't worry

He thinks he's being very sneaky about making you drink more water He is so obvious about it, it hurts

You will definitely notice how Barbatos now almost immediately refills your glass as soon as it’s half full

Another one to openly ask if you’ve drank enough water that day

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me x reader #self ship #ao3 #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #oneymebelphie #obey me diavolo #Lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphie x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #Janus’writing #Janus’asks #obey me post #om x reader

[undercoverpena]

a debt to pay

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: you surprise frankie by coming home earlier than planned, answering the door a-la-fake-porn like, making him drag you to your bedroom.

warnings: smut. established relationship. praise kink. minor (and I mean brief) hand necklace. dirty talk. okay, frankie likes to talk kink. cowgirl riding for iwd. and the pizza goes cold (felt it needed a warning) wordcount: 4.8k an: to the wonderful, amazing @morallyinept - happy international women's day! i hope frankie treating you right is what you had on your bucket list for the day. but if not, just know you inspire me, and i'm grateful for your friendship every day. and ily.

Nothing should surprise him.

He’s seen a lot. A thing some could argue is far too much. In some ways, they’re right.

Frankie isn’t sure people who weren’t doctors should know the exact hue of red that blood is—shouldn’t know the pain from a bullet grazing his shoulder, catching flesh and ruining cloth.

Still, he found himself continually surprised—especially the night he met you.

Falling into him, into his life. Disrupting his days from bleeding into the next, knocking things off their axis. Change should be scary, but it was all welcomed, just not in a way he’d ever thought he’d earned.

Somehow, amidst the chaos you brought with you, you also handed him harmony. You made the corners of his world slot together. Slowly, he even found himself anchoring down to brick and mortar, and calling it ‘home’ for the first time since he’d originally left his for battles and fighting.

In time, even as months became a year, your things found their way to be with his, Frankie had assumed he’d seen everything. Happy to accept it, the routine, the complacency. He looked forward to lazy Sunday mornings with his fingers inside yours, toes curling; Thursday nights in a bar, watching a line appear on your brow as you scoured your brain for an answer to the trivia question.

He liked it, adored it.

And then you opened the front door for him.

Flooding him in golden light that makes him squint, before he finds himself reminded, quickly, he hasn’t seen it all. Not even by a margin.

Because you're not supposed to be here, due back tomorrow.

Your voice on the phone earlier muted, low, "I miss you, Morales," as he stares at your untouched, clean mug on the kitchen counter.

Yet, here you stand. All veiled in barely anything except bits of lace and sheer, a sight his eyes aren't able to tear away from even if he tries. Not even the dryness in his throat or the warmth emanating from the pizza box he's holding (attempting to sear his skin to his palm) is bothering him.

"Bab—"

His words are cut short, ended.

"Oh," you gasp. “Let me take that; and how much do I owe you?”

On registering your words, his eyes narrow, staring.

Doing so from one eye to the next. It taking a while, brain firing, ticking over, taking precious seconds as he remains out in the cold and you stand in the warmth in barely fucking anything, before it dawns on him. Crawls up over him as realises what it is you’re pretending to do, what you're reenacting.

Lips lifting, curling into one of his cheeks he steps in through the doorway. Almost over the threshold, easily able to take another step and close the door behind him.

But he waits.

Fingers twitch at his side, Frankie swallows, eyes dropping, tracing up the bare backs of your thighs as you bend over. Because fuck, you're something beautiful. A thing he always thinks, but finds himself reminded in waves as they crash into him.

Raising his hand, he itches across his chin, scratching along the wiry hair there as his gaze drops to the thin fabric protecting the last bit of your modesty as you and the bits of lace spread across your ass—

“I only have card—unless, I can pay you in another way?”

This shouldn’t be real.

You, like this. Him, standing like this. Not even as he steps inside, eyes trained on you—forgetting what words even mean—as you bend over.

A low exhale escapes, lips remaining parted as he fights to place his palm on the back of your thigh—stops himself from hooking a finger in the band of your underwear and dragging it down your thighs, bending you over the sofa, and burying his—

“I would really like to pay you in some way.”

Your words are almost lost due to the way his pulse has quickened in his ears, thundering, pounding. Feeling nothing but discomfort as his cock hardens against the zip of his pants as you bite down on your lip.

Brain quiet, no thoughts, all rendered silent by your appearance. Only able to shift enough to discard his cap, his jacket—folding it over the back of the sofa, eyes drawing out over you as he takes a step closer. Fingers finding his wrist, pinching, making sure this isn't some dream he hasn't woken up from.

But he can smell the present. The glorious cheese and several toppings, even if devouring the pizza are long forgotten. Because his eyes are raking over you, because how could he not—especially now as you straighten up, softly wiggling your hips.

"Is that so?” his voice rough, words catching. Letters clagging at the back of his teeth as though they attempted to glue to his mouth.

He's aware the three words are stained with want—a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips as you turn to face him, knowing it too.

But then, you always do know. Having long figured him out.

Like always, your eyes meet his in a way he can never explain, no words to articulate, to explain—just shared understanding dancing between the two of you.

“It’s only right,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, your fingers reaching out to trace his wire-stubbled jawline. “It’s bad of me to order food and not have the money to pay.”

He catches your wrist, gently but firmly. Pulling you close, steadying you with the other at your waist. Hearing it, the gasp, the briefest of indications you'd been caught by surprise, as he brushes his fingers against the fabric, all unable to stop themself. Half-needing to know what it feels like, as his thumb smooths out, taking his time—forcing the tension to buzz in the air as he leans closer. The distance you small, minimal—almost non-existent—as his breath hitches in his throat.

“You know what you’re getting into?” his voice a low growl, strained.

His gaze locked on you, watching you bite on your lower lip. “I really don’t like being in debt.”

It’s low, the way he replies. Short, two words: okay baby, before he’s leading, guiding, pecking kisses on your lips that likely leave you disorientated. It thrumming in his veins, the fact he gets to undo you, peel off the thin fabric you’ve likely had stuffed at the back of the closet—or even purchased with him in mind on your trip, thighs pressed together, wondering, finger and thumb stroking it as you imagine if he'd rip it off or slowly slide it from you.

He's not sure himself.

A part of him wishes to snap it from your frame in front of open blinds and undrawn curtains. To place his palm on your ass and taste your gasp on his tongue.

But another, the part which has missed you, wishes to wait. Make you wait. Wants to drag it out as long as humanly possible, have you soaked, wet, needy and desperate.

Because Frankie wonders if you've imagined this. Or, if you plotted it or it came to you randomly.

He gets an answer to it when the two of you are behind another door—one more private, intimate.

And it feels different in the bedroom than it did out in the living room.

The lighting being one of the reasons.

In here, you had opted for a darker shade when you’d both redecorated. Told him you preferred it, and had given him a shrug and a smile as you did. It had been a while later when he’d learned it was for him. For his eyes, for the sleep he struggled to grasp. It’ll help, I think? Saying it to him as though it wasn’t the kindest fucking thing someone had done for him.

But then, you are a waking dream.

A thing which has shaped itself and made itself real right before his eyes. Sculpted yourself from wishes and wants, shaping until you’re nothing but tangible and real.

He’s not afraid to tell you that either. Spends hours whispering it into your skin, pressing it close to your ear, repeating it over and over what perfection you are as you look at him with lust-blown eyes and lips parted around his name.

Frankie doubts it’s enough.

Least of all now, when you’re painted in soft white light, all gentle in how it rolls over you, as it becomes clear you’ve been home for a while.

You've drawn the blackout curtains—keeping out the evening—and you'd flicked the little bedside lamp on, doing its best to illuminate the room.

Swallowing, he traces his teeth over his tongue, wondering if you watched him reverse off the drive as you waited to make your move. Wondering if you're snuck in, trying not to disturb—dress yourself up, even if you never need to.

Because you’re a vision always.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Even angry because he's left his tools out or with disappointment etched into your eyes because he’s forgotten something, you’re radiant, a goddess on earth.

A thing he finds himself reminded of as he steps closer to you. Fingers fiddling at his side as begins to close the small gap.

If not for the way he’s looking at you, he might have missed the shiver running through you from anticipation—and he knows it because of his action, due to the hungry look he's sure he's sporting as he raises his hands to remove his outer shirt. Balling it up, throwing it, a thing already unremembered before it even leaves his fingers.

"Frankie..."

"I know, just keep your eyes on me."

And you do, ever obedient. A thing no one would believe him off outside of these four walls. Not when you hold yourself strong and are quick to bite back, all wit and quick-thinking in addition to your brains and beauty.

He hooks a finger under the edge of his t-shirt, dragging it up over his head as he hears it—that little hiss, that slight gasp you do as though you’ve not seen him topless a thousand times.

It feels good. Makes heat rise up his neck and flood his ears. For a moment, he forgets he’s not all that. Because he’s soft, a little thicker around the middle, it feels like a lifetime ago he was trained in combat. But the way you look at him makes him feel like that is the furthest thing from the truth.

Fuck, you make him hard. Make him want. Have done since the moment you’d given him half a chance.

It’s why he's quick to pull you close, desperate to slant his mouth over yours. All fiery, hungry. Aiming to claim and write out all the ways he’s thought of you in the days since you’d been away. How the hours of you being gone and the amount he’s missed you have all balled up into a thing that is now fuelling him—sketching his wishes and desires across your lips, against your tongue, burying them past your teeth so they sit in your throat.

He grasps. Likely leaves marks of it on the perfect skin that covers your waist—because his palm is calloused and worn. Reminders of holding things not half as soft as you. A flicker of guilt almost bubbles in his, as he moves to rest it on your cheek, cradling your jaw and ear in one hand, as he slides the other up your back.

You whimper against his teeth before fingers find the clasp—finger and thumb, pinging it open before he feels fabric scrape against him—then you moan.

His chest being greeted with nothing but warm, smooth bare skin—nipples pebbling in the cooler air before being pressed against him, before he cups the swell of one, thumb stroking, playing a pattern.

“Do this for all the deliveries you get?”

You snort, it blowing out in a breath. “Only the ones with packages I like.”

In the time you’ve been together, you’ve said worse, but this time makes cock harden more than it already is. It's almost uncomfortable, in how it presses against his zipper, wishing to be released, as his index and thumb stroke over your skin. Taking it on how warm you are, how impossibly soft—distantly feeling the tremors from your heart hammering into your ribs.

"Too good for me, you are." You hum, as he seals his mouth back over yours. “But, I don’t take card.”

Purposefully, he drops his hand, fingers dipping, tracing across the lace that covers your slit—finding damp fabric as his ears take in the note of a quiet escape leaving your lips. It trying to bury itself between your two mouths open, breathing it in.

“Guess you’ll have to swipe something else.”

He snorts, and buries it into your neck, teeth grazing your skin—nose catching the scent of your perfume. And the scent almost makes him dizzy from how his blood rushes south. How the moment he’d dropped you off for your flight, it had lingered in the cabin of his truck. Remaining there for the first few days you were gone, before slowly fading. Leaving.

Just there on the coat you'd hung near the door and the pillows he slept beside.

The ones he rested his head against when he’d heard your voice down the phone, tell me to touch myself, Frankie, I need you. His own hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it as you moaned his name, all those miles away, dripping instructions into your ear.

“You're such a dirty girl.”

You grin in response, fingers tugging at his curls—urging his mouth back to yours.

But, he instead traces his tongue over your pulse, circling it, all defiant in bowing to you as his teeth trace over his path. Instead, his finger dips, traces the crease of your thigh with his gaze never leaving yours.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

His hand slides between your thighs, cupping you—feeling the discernible wetness soaked through.

“Can feel it.”

You scoff, but he kisses it away.

Doing so in a similar way to how he makes you forget, how he pulls you from your mind and brings you to the present. It’s also swallowed by another gasp, one made because of his fingers finding the edge of the lace, hooking a finger underneath, sliding the pad of his thumb against your swollen nerves and slick entrance.

"So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the whine you emit. “Feelin’ needy, querida?”

And he can’t take his eyes off you.

Practically locked in, watching as your lips part, and your hips try to shift for more friction. He’s too fearful he’ll miss it, all of it—a slight curve of a brow or a shimmer on your eyes. All things he thinks over when he dreams, when he wishes for replays of moments until the next day when he makes another that easily replaces a good one.

He likes how you say his name when he slips another finger inside you—how it falls all soft, breathless. So much intention in such a low sound. Even as you squirm, mouth pausing over his; little mewls and moans falling as he drags them in and out, all languorous, teasing.

“Want you.”

His thumb brushes over your swollen clit, a hiss escaping. “I know.”

You gasp his name, stifle a moan, teeth biting down on the underside of your lower lip as your lashes flutter. It’s your nails digging into his scalp that keeps him rooted, that keeps him focused—precise touches and strokes that have you rocking against him and keep him tuned in to you.

“Missed how you sound, baby. You're doing so well.”

You’re close. His words make your perfect pussy clench around him. A chorus of moans escaping as he curls them inside of you, finds that spot, the one which makes you babble and turns your muscles into liquid.

He likes that he can do this.

That he can read you and undo you. That it’s a thing he’s mastered when he’d thought he was far from learning. But then, he’d taken great pride in spending hours studying—in alternating between being on his back and on his knees.

And because of that, he knows when he halt you over the edge. Let you linger, not tipping.

Normally, he’d never tease, never make you want—but, today is a different kind of day as he stops. As he retracts his fingers and allows the fabric to lightly snap back into place.

It’s a different whine that cuts into the room then. It pours out from your lips as your eyes dig daggers into him—but, he knows you.

Knows it’s momentary and nothing he can’t fix. Able to hold his ground against it, digging heels into the floor—all refusing to be swayed by the storm rising inside of you, creeping across the formerly tranquil sea. Instead, his hands move to his belt—undoing it, metal clanging and zip sliding down as your eyes break from glaring to stare hungrily at the outline of his cock.

Watching as you walk backwards, the back of your knees hitting the bed before you’re perching—eyes holding his, tip of your tongue sweeping, tracing, as you move further up the bed. The one you’d picked—chosen.

He’s in a trance.

Under a spell when you hook a thumb on either side of your underwear.

It’s not smooth, it doesn’t glide or remove with ease—there’s even a slight kick out of your legs before it flings from your ankle. But, it makes him tighten the hold on his cock. Because it may not be a thing people ever see on TV or in movies, but then they never feel like this.

They don’t feel real, no rawness, no tangling of his trousers he has to step out of as he strokes himself, eyes flicking down to where you’re bare—where you’re glistening—

“Wanna ride you, Frank.”

He sucks in a shuddering breath, hands gripping the base of his cock.

It’s slow, the way he grazes his teeth over his lower lip. “S’that how you wanna pay me, yeah?”

“All I’ve thought about,” you reply, a soft smile greeting him. “Lemme ride you—wanna look at you, wanna watch you come, baby.”

Fuck. He doesn’t fight it.

Instead, letting you guide him, allowing you to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw when he kneels on the bed and groans—because it’s been a long day, querida; he’s not as young as he once was.

“Still know how to be good, though. Don’t you?” you smirk, open mouth leaving a trail down his neck, eyes flicking up when you leave one in the space above his heart.

Hands behind his head, admiring, doing nothing but watching you place your thighs on either side of his as your fingers wrap around his wrists. You pin him, pressing down—aching cock ignored, left to leak against his hip as your lips press to his, over and over, and over until he’s chasing for the feel of them when you pull back.

You only offer a gentle, "I missed you," against the air before you're lining him up, bearing down, sinking, taking him in as he paints a groan against your collarbone.

There’s a beat, maybe two.

Stillness, enveloped entirely by your walls as his mouth wraps itself around your breast, leaving it wet, coated in spit as he groans when you begin to move. Setting a rhythm, slow.

“Not rushing this, Frankie.”

He never wishes you to.

His hands gripping your hips, guiding you. Head falling back onto the sheets as his breath hitches, the sight of you atop him, breasts bouncing—owning him—is a sight he could never grow tired of. One he also never feels worthy of—but he won’t squander, won’t ruin.

Because you’re perfect, head to toe—pussy made for him as it strokes up and down and breaths leave your mouth in short pants.

“Y’so good to me, Frankie. So handsome.”

And he wants to tell you that it's you who is so good—who is nothing but colour in an otherwise grey world. That you’re sunshine and stars, moon and so much more goodness than he can list buried inside of you.

“Go on, querida,” he grunts through clenched teeth, hands squeezing your hips a little tighter as you move a little faster.

As you take a little more. It makes your eyes flutter, parts your lips—watching in nothing short of awe as you use him, as you lose yourself in the moment.

"That's it, just let go. Make yourself feel good.”

It’s something majestic when he sees you nearing release—when he feels you clench and flutter.

“Feels good, y’feel good inside me baby.”

“You need more?”

And you nod.

The green light—the sign—and he doesn’t wait a moment.

Just canting his hips up, making a rush of pleasure spread up his spine. He’s lightheaded, hot—practically dizzy with how good you feel enveloped around him.

The noises filling the air, your slick walls taking him and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It’s drowned by the noises he pulls from you, making a mess of you as your lust-blown eyes land on him.

It almost steals his breath. Thieves it.

Because you’re so pretty, wild—a fucking dream on top of him. All soft and shimmering with perspiration from how good you ride him as he’s bathed in whines, moans and cries of his name.

“You're perfect,” he says, hand clamping on your hip as he shifts, and angles himself before thrusting up into you—watching your eyes squeeze shut. “From your smile to your tight pussy. You know that?”

Studying you as you try to keep the same rhythm. But, you’re nearing your climax—nails digging into his shoulder and neck, half-moons etched there, and he hopes they take hours to disappear.

“Thought about you all week—”

You moan, eyes meeting his. “Thought about you too—missed you. Missed how good you make me feel.”

“Fucked my fist to the thought of you like this. Never thought—fuck—I’d come home to this, baby. Y’fuckin’ perfect.”

Your chin lifts, neck elongating as he spreads his palm across your side, fingers pressing, grasping.

“Love hearing how much you missed me,” he smirks, watching you—thinking nothing but revolving thoughts as to how pretty you look, what a picture you are on top of him—

Then he hears a slam. Heavy boots. A voice he'd rather not hear at all:

“Fish? You home?”

He stops, realisation slamming into him.

A hand drops to the bedsheets, grasping them so hard his knuckles pale, and throb—the bones in his hand aching as he fights shouting and blowing his load right there and then.

The plans he’d made—the ones he’d put into place because you weren’t supposed to be home—all coming back to bite him. How he hadn’t wanted to spend another night alone, another evening in front of the television until you could call and tell him about your day—when he should have. He really fucking should have.

And you’re frozen, hips halted in place—his other hand remaining on your waist, fingers digging in as you both tense, keeping movements paused.

He considers it, the two choices he has and decides.

Leaning more against you—half-grinning, whispering shh as you look at him full of alarm—suddenly aware of the impending actuality that you could be caught like this.

And, then you clench around him. He feels it. Head tilting and eyes narrowing as he takes you in.

"Dirty girl," he mouths, and you look bashful, shy—a look he rarely sees when you’re split open on his cock and the base of him is covered in your slick.

“Fish, where the fuck are you?”

“Getting changed Ben, be a min.”

Your pussy flutters around him at your shout, as he moves to not shout the words towards your ear—feeling you clamp down, muffling a whimper. Another falls as he lifts up further onto his palm, dragging his nose down the valley between your breasts.

He knows you’re close—teetering, a few more thrusts and you’d have unravelled.

Dropping his voice, low—barely above a whisper, “Shh, baby. Or, I won’t let you finish.”

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Can‘t, Frankie—I can’t.”

He nods, finger and thumb holding your chin because he knows you can. Seen you do so much, and been witness to what you’re capable of—before his hand guides your hips to begin moving, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hips.

“Touch yourself for me, querida. Be good for me.”

And you whimper, something akin to his name.

But he’s guiding his mouth away, shouting, “Beers in the fridge, Ben.”

His mouth presses to your chest, hearing the shout from his friend back, but it’s the sound of your fingers on your slick and swollen clit that he tunes into. That he wants to flood his ears. Watching you shiver, shake, tremble from it as you tighten around him, choking his cock as he begins to thrust in and out.

He could keep you here. Should do too.

One week has already been too long. A need to make up for it—to have you pay for all the times you ask him those questions you wait until the lights are usually out for and he’s about to tip over to sleep; have you press yourself against him, nudging your ass into him as you cuddle, but really you want his mouth between your thighs. He should edge you, hang you over the edge of pleasure and watch your eyes dig into him until your lips whisper the word beginning with P.

But he won’t.

Couldn’t.

He likes knowing he pleases you too much.

Your moan bringing him back to it. Seeing how your eyes are clenched shut, trying to keep it behind your teeth. Failing, expletives dropping in breaths before he raises his hand, pressing it to your mouth, muffling it, the moans you have to release before you shake your head and fold into him.

Suddenly, he wants to move the dresser and lock the two of you in here. Wants to let them watch whatever fucking sports they want out there, and him just watch you in here.

You’re his favourite sight, after all. Especially like this. Free, not overthinking or worrying, just present, feeling as good as you should—as good as he always wants you to feel.

And you deserve this.

Hearing the low please fall before he plants his feet down, angling his cock up into you as you let out a muffled gasp. His palm flat to your shoulder, steadying you, as he feels your fingers slide it to your collarbone, resting it, fingers an inch away from the base of your neck.

You flick your eyes open—smothering him in permission, in radiant sunshine and lust, before the softest fucking smirk graces your lips—as his own mouth chokes out your name.

“Not tonight.”

It’s less words, and more a noise.

Because he’s close too—it having risen close to the top. Toes clenched around the sheets, digging in.

But he wants to feel you come first. And it’s there—that familiar sign. Lashes fluttering, gorgeous mouth going tight, slack as you tighten around him, locking up, clamping down as your hips move sloppily and out of rhythm.

You’re so fucking close.

“Shh, be good for me.”

Fingers, trembling and weak, slide around the base of his neck, tugging on his curls that are likely slick with sweat.

“N‘gonna last—let go for me baby.”

“Please.”

“Come for me.”

Spearing up into you with more vigour as you rasp, groan, and hiss—spit coating his fingers as he slides them out, dropping his hand from you as his knuckles press to the mattress as he fucks up into you.

Your body bucks, a cry you bury into his neck—a drag of nails against his scalp—as you come undone around him. Convulsing. Muffled cries vibrating against his pulse.

Frankie is barely able to contain the low growl as his hips stutter—heat raging through him, joined by rabid electricity. It sparking, ripping through, making him both ache and feel alive.

The sight of you and the feel of you drives him to the edge—and then over. A grip on your hip all tight as he thrusts into you one final time, unable to contain the growl. His chest heaves as he spills inside of you, and you tremble against him—panting, all messy and boneless as he pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back.

"You're incredible," he breathes into your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

You let out a small laugh, a soft, content sigh escaping your lips. "So are you."

He smiles against your skin, his heart swelling with affection. He may have assumed he'd seen everything, but you—you continue to surprise him, to captivate him in ways he never thought possible. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Pulling his mouth from yours, feeling you ease him out of you, his hand lightly slaps you on the back of your bare ass.

"I missed you, querida," he murmurs, heart still racing in his chest.

Meeting his gaze, your lips purse. "I know," you whisper, leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "I'm here now."

“Shame you’ll have to sneak out the back and come in through the front door. Otherwise, you’ll be in here all night—”

His words trail off, a sly grin tugging at his lips as it dawns, rises up over your face and makes your mouth fall open. “Francisco….”

“Shoulda' told me you were coming home. It's boys night.”

Narrowing your eyes, you tick your jaw—spine straightening. “Well, I could stay in here—like this…”

Smirking, he kisses your nose. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.”

Your mouth opens, a smirk gracing his lips in response as he raises a finger to his mouth, moving and pressing a kiss to your knee. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #frankie morales x reader smut

[tardis-technician]

please read beautiful chaos (pt. 2)

[Image ID: Screenshot of text from the doctor who novel Beautiful Chaos. It reads, "'You're Smith. John Smith. You write books. With pictures. About the constellations, no?’

'Ah, no. Not me. Sorry. Although when I was little I used to do finger-paintings of the night sky. I used to add bits of... well, pasta you'd call it, to make the planets all 3-D. And glitter. Lots of glitter. I was very... glittery.' /. End ID]

#guys. guys. Read this book. #The doctor and donna go spend a weekend with wilf and sylvia #and a bunch of other stuff happens to but THIS #I could not have read this before this 60th specials. It would've killed me. #The doctor #tenth doctor novels #beautiful chaos doctor who #tenth doctor #donna noble #paradox posts

[almond-tofuuu]

❄️Can't lose you❄️

Zayne x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries but nothing is detailed, a little (lot) of angst, happy ending tho (kind of)

Word count: 600

Zayne's familiarity with injuries ran deep, forged through years of serving as a doctor and navigating the horrors of a war zone. His resilience, honed over time, stemmed from his ability to maintain composure in the face of chaos, a trait that set him apart as an exceptional surgeon. Yet, as he stood before you, your body drenched in a pool of crimson, his usual calm facade crumbled.

The ER exuded an eerie tranquility that night, a stark departure from its usual bustling pace. Zayne couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him, amplified by your absence. It had become a routine, a cherished moment – your brief visits to his office on your way home, a shared tranquility interrupted only by the relentless summons of emergencies. Initially, he brushed off your delay, perhaps you'd been sent out to deal with a group of wanderers, or maybe you simply missed the train again, it wouldn't be the first time, but as time stretched on, apprehension crept in.

The shrill beep of his pager interrupted his thoughts, summoning him to yet another crisis in the ER. Suppressing his concerns, Zayne hastily navigated the labyrinth of corridors, mentally bracing himself for the unknown ahead. Yet, no amount of preparation could have steeled him for the chilling sight that awaited.

There you lay, motionless upon a stretcher, a crimson tide seeping through your shirt.

Zayne's world ground to a halt.

In that moment, a profound uncertainty gripped him, eclipsing the clarity of his usually sharp mind. Fear and panic coiled around him, suffocating his every thought, rendering him powerless in the face of the unthinkable.

The room pulsed with frantic activity as medical staff swarmed around your motionless form, their urgent voices blending into a disorienting noise. Zayne, usually the epitome of composure in the chaos of the emergency room, found himself frozen, his years of expertise rendered moot in the face of your battered figure. Amidst the chaos, a distant announcement pierced through, signaling the preparation of the operating room, but it was the firm grip on his shoulder that momentarily yanked Zayne from his spiralling thoughts.

Turning, he met Greyson's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them amidst the chaos.

"We're taking her to the OR straight away... You should return to your office. I'll update you as soon as there's any news," Greyson's words were a lifeline in the storm.

Unable to find his voice, Zayne simply nodded, watching in silence as they wheeled you away, his heart heavy with unspoken fears.

Alone in his office, Zayne paced with restless anguish, the image of you haunting his thoughts. He, who had never been one to seek solace in prayer, found himself pleading to unseen forces for your survival. Despite his unwavering trust in Greyson and the medical team, his mind betrayed him with a torrent of doubts.

What if the worst were to happen?

What if your injuries were too severe?

What if he never got the chance to gaze into your beautiful eyes again?

His fingers raked through his disheveled hair, a futile attempt to anchor himself amidst the dark thoughts consuming him, unwilling to confront the unbearable prospect of a world without you.

After what seemed like an eternity, a gentle rap echoed on his office door. Ignoring his own disheveled state, Zayne hurried to greet the visitor, his heart hammering in his chest as he swung the door open to reveal Greyson's fatigued figure. The weariness etched on Greyson's face spoke volumes of the arduous surgery.

"Is she..." Zayne started, his voice faltering as he couldn't bring himself to complete the question.

Greyson's reassuring touch on Zayne's shoulder brought a wave of relief, his gentle gaze offering solace as he delivered the long-awaited news. "She's okay, Zayne. Just breathe... she's alive."

With a shuddering exhale, Zayne released the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his eyes brimming with tears of gratitude as he whispered a heartfelt "thank you" to Greyson.

Gathering his composure, Zayne met Greyson's gaze once more. "Where is she? I need to see her."

Understanding the urgency in Zayne's request, Greyson provided the room number, observing silently as Zayne bolted down the corridor, propelled by a mix of hope and desperation towards you.

Entering your room, Zayne is engulfed by a tempest of emotions. His heart wrenches at the sight of the resilient hunter he holds dear, now lying vulnerable in the hospital bed, yet an overwhelming sense of gratitude washes over him knowing you're still breathing. Drawing closer to your bedside, his eyes meticulously trace the remnants of your ordeal etched onto your skin—every scratch, bruise, and cut a testament to your resilience. Tenderly, one hand reaches out to cradle your cheek while the other gently clasps yours.

"...I thought I lost you..." Zayne's voice quivers with raw emotion, tears finally breaking free as he surrenders to the flood of relief and fear that had been bottled up inside.

Bowing his head, Zayne tenderly plants a lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch conveying both love and resolve. Pulling back slightly, he murmurs softly against your skin, his voice unwavering, brimming with determination.

"I swear, I will never let anything or anyone hurt you again.... You mean too much to me. I-" he pauses, gathering his thoughts. "I should've said it sooner, but I was too afraid... Now I realise that living in a world without you is far more terrifying.... You mean more to me than you could ever know.... Losing you, would be the equivalent to someone ripping my heart out of my chest.... And when you wake up, I'll make sure you know just how much I love you...."

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #dr zayne

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is the story I mentioned yesterday! Trying something new for me but I hope y'all enjoy it. I've always found Mafia Eddie incredible sexy <3. This is an AU with a mixture of Stranger Things you will definitely recognize :). I wrote with the idea that Hawkins is a big city so keep that in mind lol

Warnings: Mafia Gangster Eddie/ Officer (slightly mean) Steve Harrington/ Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, use of the color system, degrading if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, etc.

ANGST, Obviously (and not just because I am me lol), Eddie runs a rival gang in Hawkins and is in love with Steve (Romeo and Juliet style), Steve mentions being jumped and Eddie retaliates getting hurt in the process, mentions of murders by Eddie, Reader takes care of them both performing surgery on the gangster, guns are pulled and our boys are threatened, cliff hanger ending because I can.

Word Count: 8284

"Little girl gone, got a gun from a gangster Run little girl, run little girl, bang, ha."

“Officer Steve Harrington.”, you read from his chart as you enter the exam room before flashing him a big smile. “I’m Dr. Y/L/N. How can I help you today?”

“My, uh, Captain said I needed to come get a checkup. I was wounded in the line of duty a few days ago.”

“Oh no. I’m really sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

“Does that matter?”, he snapped.

You dealt with sassy patients on the regular. It came with the territory especially in the area your office was located in. In this part of the city, your clinic usually catered to people who didn’t want to check in at a regular hospital because their name could get dinged for other offenses. You always felt like everyone deserved care so when you opened your clinic, you made sure to do what you could within the means and resources you had available. 

Officers normally never entered your building but within these past few months you had seen them more and more frequently. You had heard rumors of a new gang in the area trying to make things more…democratic…so there was less chaos in the streets but in turn that brought more of a police presence because most of the people around here hated being threatened into submission reacting violently if need be. 

Thankfully, you weren’t easily shaken so this admittedly good-looking man of the law raising his voice didn’t frighten you one bit. 

“It does if you want me to assess you properly.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I like to be polite at first. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or should I mark in your file here that you refused to answer so your Captain can deal with you?”

Steve’s amber eyes scanned you over briefly before a small smirk painted his beautiful lips. 

“I got jumped by one of the rival gangs in the area. Beat me up pretty good.” 

Sitting in your wheely chair, you slid toward him and carefully lifted off his shirt, his face wincing as he lifted his arms. Large purple bruises were splattered along his ribs and around to his back. Just from the wounds alone, you could tell he was kicked and punched repeatedly. His face had some scratches and swelling but it looked like nothing compared to his upper torso. 

“Oh wow. I’m so sorry. Did you go to the hospital?”

“I did. They did some X-rays and shit. Thankfully nothing was broken but, obviously, moving around has been hard.”

“Beside the bruising, have you experienced any other pain? Like a sharp stabbing pain in your side or anything like that?”

“Uh, no. Just emotional pain.”, he chuckles as his eyes look past you into a memory. 

“Ok, I’ll get you some medicine I think will help as well as some cream to sooth the pain of those bruises and swelling. I’ll be right back.”

You weren’t gone long but as you were returning you could vaguely hear his voice through the door between you both. 

“Naw, she said she’s going to get me some meds and shit…Baby! Seriously, you worry too much. I’m fine… No, NO. Don’t you dare go over there or I swear God—” Hastily, he hung up his phone when he heard you knock and reenter the room he was in. “Sorry. That was my, um, my boss checking in. Just reiterated what you told me.”

“Good. Now this will help with the pain…”, you instruct as you hand him some medication before flashing him the cream. “…and this will help with the swelling. Just put this on your bruises every six hours and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

Opening the bottle, you squeeze some of the medicine in your hand, and gently rub it along his admittedly muscular abs. 

“You’re, um, going to feel it tingle a bit and feel warm but after a few moments it will cool down.”

That smirk you saw previously appeared on his lips again when he caught you staring as your hands slowly rubbed along his skin. 

“That feels really good actually. Your hands not the cream.”

“Hm. I’m sure your girlfriend touches you enough.” Steve raises an eyebrow at your insinuation. “I mean unless you call your captain ‘baby’.”

A slightly nervous sigh leaves you as the officer’s grin grows and his eyes meet yours. 

“Hm. Bad girl listening in on my phone calls. Do you always misbehave like that?”

“This is my clinic, Officer Harrington. I can do whatever I want especially when I have signs everywhere that say, ‘No Cell Phones in the Exam Room.’”

His palm abruptly takes hold of your wrist, pulling you closer to him till your nose was just above his own.

“This may be your clinic, honey, but these are my streets. I keep order here.”

“I think the gangs here would disagree.”

“Pfft, like you know anything about what goes on out there.”, he spits as he lets you go.

After throwing a scowl his way, you pretend to be preoccupied with washing your hands.

“I know that when I first moved here, the fatality rate in this area was extremely high until that new gang leader took over the Munson crew. I believe, if the rumors are correct, the new boss is actually the son of the old leader Al Munson. Since the son has taken over, oddly enough, the streets have become safer. More kids come out to play and I’ve seen less addicts in the last couple of months.”

As you dry your hands and turn to face him, you notice the hardened look on the officer’s face as he listens to you speak.

“I also know there have been more of a police presence on this side of town as well. I’ve seen a lot of innocent civilians put in ambulances or worse due to the push back of change. Tell me, Officer Harrington, which side are you on? Which gang did that to you? The Munson’s or The Carver’s?”

“I’m on the side of peace. That’s my job.”, he seethes through gritted teeth.  

“Yeah… you’re good to go, officer. Have a nice day.”, you growl in annoyance as you leave the room without waiting for him to retort.

##############

Today had been an incredibly long day. After your appointment with Officer Harrington, you had back-to-back visits from so many clients just needing a little bit of help. Your mind was racing as you and your staff did what you could but the truth was you desperately needed more funding. You were running low on supplies and the equipment you had wasn’t the best. It killed you to see your patient’s sad faces when you strongly recommended they head to the nearest hospital for certain tests that you just couldn’t provide at that time. 

Your mind was still racing as you began to gather your things to head out for the evening which is most likely why you didn’t even hear him till you exited your office and were met with a gun pointed at your face. 

“Don’t be scared. I’m not…I’m not here to hurt you. We need help.”, Steve panted with a heavy breath as the weapon shook in his hand. He was still dressed in the uniform he was wearing when you last saw him but now it was stained in blood and sweat.

“I-I-I…”

Roughly, he took hold of your bicep and dragged you to your waiting room where another man was sitting with his head leaning against the wall. You knew he wasn’t a cop because he wasn’t dressed like the man beside you but instead in an expensive looking black suit with the white button up shirt underneath his jacket now stained with red. You noticed immediately his palm was holding his side and that area of his clothing was a darker shade than all the rest. 

“I can’t help with a wound like that. He needs a hospital.”

“Oh you don’t say?”, he snarled as he tugged you to his chest. “If I could have taken him to a fucking hospital I would have! But I brought him to you, now HELP HIM!”

“Steven!”, the long-haired man grumbled as he looked your way. “Be nice. She’s just being…honest. Right, sweetheart?” He sighs when you nod and tries to get to his feet but the officer is quicker, running to his side to help him stand. “See, the thing is, princess, if I go to a hospital I’ll die anyway…because they will put me…in jail especially after they find out…what-what I did tonight.”

“What did you do?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter right now. He’s losing blood and fast!”

Swallowing nervously, you step forward to unbutton his shirt and examine the cut you found. He needed stitches as soon as possible and most likely a blood transfusion unless someone got to his wound fast enough. Gesturing them both to follow you, you power walk to an exam room and begin searching for supplies as Steve carefully places the man on the table. While he removes the bloody clothes from his top half, you prep a syringe.

“Is he allergic to anything?”

“No. What is that, that you’re giving him?”

“It’s a pain killer. It won’t be as strong as ones at a hospital but…”

As you stick the needle into his stomach just above his cut, he flinches causing Steve’s expression to flood with worry as he moves the man’s hair out of his face. After quickly cleaning the area, you let out a long sigh as you glance their way. 

“Even with the shot, this is going to hurt a lot I’m afraid. I’ll try to go as fast as I can but, officer, if you can distract him that may help.”

The man on the table chuckles as he turns his head towards his friend. 

“She keeps calling you ‘officer’. Did… you not tell her your name? Or did you… scare her too much to use it?” He cringes as he hisses once you begin sewing in his stitches. “You like to…pretend to be so badass…but we both know you’re a…sweetheart.”

“Pretend to be a badass, huh? You’re one to talk.”, Steve scolds in a light sounding tone as he softly places his forehead against his own. “Eddie, I told you not to go over there.”

“They tried to hurt what was mine…”, he growled low in his throat even making you pause for a moment before focusing again on your task. “They wanted to send a message, well, message received.”

“I could have handled it.”

Grabbing Steve’s cheeks roughly, he brings his lips to his own. 

“No one takes my things and NO ONE hurts what’s mine. You belong to me, baby, and I promised I’d keep you safe.”

Finishing his sutures, you bandage him up and wrap some gauze around his lower waist. 

“Thank you.”, he whispers exhaustedly as he extends his shaky hand towards you. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re safe and I promise neither of us are going to hurt you. I’m Edward Munson but you can call me Eddie.” Your eyes widen as you slowly back away from them causing Steve to rise to his feet. “Ah. I see you’ve heard of me. Then you know you can trust me.”

Eddie tries to stand as well but sways before Steve steadies him. 

“You…you should be in a hospital. That wound needs to be looked after and you need to rest.”

“I can take care of him.”

“Steve…”

“No. No you can’t. That’s why you brought him to me.”, you sass in frustration as you try to display an air of confidence. Both men scan you over as they try to get a read on you as you continue. “If you refuse to go to a hospital, then give me your address and I can come—”

“No. No addresses. We can’t have you giving it to the police.”

“Oh you mean you?!”

You and Steve square off, tightening your stances as you glare at each other until Eddie laughed beside you both. 

“Brave girl with attitude. I like it.”

“I don’t. Little girl needs to be put in her place.”

“I highly doubt you’re the man to do that.”, you sass.

“Yeah well good thing there’s two of us, honey, and trust me, whatever I start Eddie can definitely finish.”

Sighing, you fold your arms as you argue with the internal dialogue inside your head. 

“You can come to my apartment but I have one condition. After he heals, I never want to see either of you again.”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Eddie finally nods. 

“You have a deal, princess.”

############

“Um, I don’t have a spare room or anything but the couch is comfortable. Just make sure to stay on your back if you can.” Eddie nods as Steve places him down and hastily begins removing the gear attached to him. “Let me grab some blankets and pillows.”

Disappearing into your bedroom, you grab any extra bedding you had and began to head their way but paused when you heard them talking. 

“Why are you being mean to her? I thought you said she took care of you.”

“She did. I just… I was worried about you. It’s my job to take care of you to, honey.”

“And snapping at the woman who’s trying to help will do what exactly?” Steve laughs through his teeth at Eddie question. “I think it’s because you like her.”

“Pfft what?”

“Oh, look at Officer Harrington blushing.”, the long-haired man teases as he reaches out to touch the boy’s face. “I know I just met her and she was busy saving my life but I can see why…”, he chuckles before wincing as he grabs his side. 

“Are you alright?”, you ask as you come back to the living room and kneel down on your knees in front of him. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve been through way worse than this.”

You take quick note of his wound before handing Steve the things you found, watching with fascination as he tosses the things for him to the side before placing the pillow on his lap and guiding the man back to lay down. 

“If, um, if you notice it bleeding through or he starts getting a fever, come and get me immediately.” 

The officer nods as he throws the blanket over Eddie and comfortingly rests his hand on his chest, his thumb gently running along the man’s tattooed skin. 

***

Your alarm goes at 4am that morning, startling you as you shoot up right. Groggily, you shuffled to your bathroom and grabbed the items Eddie would need so you could change his bandages. Both men were fast asleep when you entered the living room, Steve still clinging to him with his other hand very close to where his gun was resting on the little table you had beside your couch. 

“Mr. Munson?”, you whisper as you sit on the coffee table across from them. When he didn’t stir you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to visually take in one of the most notorious gangsters in the city. You had never seen a picture of him and he definitely wasn’t what you pictured when you heard the rumors from people in the clinic. 

He did have an air of control surrounding him but his voice and face were incredibly soft especially when it came to Steve. You heard him get upset though so you imagined that amplified out in the streets and you hoped you never met that version of him. He had a lot of tattoos painting his upper torso that seemed completely random except for the symbol of his gang that was tattooed on many other men and women you had seen previously minus the tiny initials “S.H.” inscribed within the design. 

Eddie was fairly muscular appearing more toned in his abs and upper arms. Slightly blocking your view was Steve’s massive palm over his chest, almost as if that was his way to make sure the man was still breathing. He had been exceptionally rude with you but with the gangster, he transformed before your eyes, becoming softer and listening to everything the other man said without question. They both obviously seemed to care strongly about each other which you found slightly amusing given their slight Romeo and Juliet story; one being a cop and the other a criminal. 

“Mr. Munson.”

Extending your hand, you tried gently shaking his upper shoulder and in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and held you tightly as he raised his fist in the air prepared to defend himself. Swallowing nervously, you froze as his intense eyes scanned your own. 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t…” Eddie promptly let you go and winced as he sat up in front of you. 

“No, no. It’s ok. After what happened, I completely understand. I just need to check you out and rewrap your wound.”

“Would it be easier for you if we went to the table?”

“Oh, no, this is ok but I do have to turn on the light.”

Eddie follows your eyes as you glance towards Steve. 

“Trust me, it won’t bother him one bit. I don’t think he’s had a consistent night’s sleep since he was hurt.”

“How long have you two been involved?”, you ask as you begin the task in front of you hoping to distract him as well from the pain. 

“In my business or each other?”, he smirks when you breathily laugh. “Both answers are more or less the same. He had the balls to arrest me on a charge we both knew wouldn’t stick. I knew he was different when he tried to get me to flip sides and sell out my friends. Usually, cops knew better than to do that especially with me.”

The gangster paused when you tried to clean his cut, flinching as he gritted his teeth. 

“What happened? Did he take you in?”

“No, I did when I let him fuck me handcuffed in the back of his cruiser.”, he chuckled, slightly surprised when you did as well. “We’ve been watching out for each other ever since. He’s actually not as big of an asshole as he seems. Steve just has a big heart and wants to take care of everything himself. He likes to be the big, strong man, you know? That’s why he’s been so short lately.”

“What happened there? He didn’t tell me; just said he was jumped.”

“I don’t think that’s something you should know. The less we tell you the better.”

“Mr. Munson, you, a well-known Mafia style gang leader, showed up at my clinic after hours with a police officer bleeding out. I think that line has been crossed.”, you grin up at him finding his eyes watching you again. “I assume it was someone from Carver’s side. You told Steve something about them sending a message.”

“Yeah… Jason Carver isn’t exactly a fan of mine even more so since I took over. My dad was always a…shoot first ask questions later which is why he’s in jail right now. He was sloppy and greedy like Jason. I don’t want to hurt people I don’t have to.” Leaning forward, you start wrapping the gauze around him but you can’t help to inhale the strong scent of cigarettes and cologne. You don’t see it but his own head tilts slightly, inhaling your shampoo from the night before when you finally had time for a shower and the regular smells of your office that attached to your skin. 

Eddie’s lips ever so slightly grazed your shoulder that was exposed due to the tank top you were currently wearing causing you to shutter softly as you pulled back to cut the bandage. 

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”, he asked in a low tone that had you exhaling as you tried to maintain your composure. 

“Mr. Munson, I work in a city filled with crime and scared citizens. I don’t really have the luxury of being afraid.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Calloused fingers reached out to grip the bottom of your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. “Even though I take no pleasure in it, I have hurt and killed people. I killed two people just last night. Carver got the idea in his head that roughing up the man I love would have me submitting to him and his whims. I’m not the submissive type and I made sure he knew that by slitting the throats of the two men that put hands on him. I don’t regret it and I’d do it again.”

“How did you get hurt then?”

“Unfortunately, Carver isn’t an idiot. He had more men appear and try to take us out. Steve showed up and someone pulled a knife… Let’s just say that someone got in a good attempt before I snapped his neck.”

The way he spoke about such violent things was so even, almost as if he could be reading from a grocery list. This was his every day and you could tell by his tone he knew it would continue to be. But there was something about him… something that made you feel safe. 

“No, I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Munson.”

“I think under the circumstances, you can call me Eddie.”

A cell phone ringing pulled you both apart but didn’t stir the man it belonged to as he continued to snore with his head leaning over the back of the couch. 

“Steve. Steven.”, the man called as he shook his arm rousing him from his deep sleep. “Your phone is ringing.”

Without opening his eyes, the officer reached into his pocket, producing his device, and placing it to his ear as he answered with gravelly “yeahs” and “mhmms”. 

“I have to go in. Someone called in about the shooting on the eastside and they found Carver’s guys.” Rubbing his eyes and as if he forgot you were there, Steve tenderly kissed Eddie’s lips before rising to his feet and putting on all of his gear once more. “Please keep an eye on him and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I have to go to work.” Pausing, he exhaled heavily as he turned and flashed you an annoyed look. “I have to. It would look weird if I didn’t. I’ve never missed a day but if we leave early enough…I can bring him with me and keep him in my office.”

“Is it ok to move him that much?”

As if to prove a point, Eddie rose to his feet. 

“I’ll be ok. I’m a quick healer. Don’t worry about us.”

###############

Thankfully, you didn’t have too many patients today so you were able to keep yourself locked in your office with the gangster you were attempting to hide. As soon as you brought him in, he fell asleep on your office couch, allowing you to leave him be so you could do what you needed. 

As you were reading a chart however you heard giggling in the exam room beside your office and quickly went to investigate, finding Eddie sitting next to a child on the exam table making her laugh. 

“Look, princess, you can’t trick me like that.”

“It’s thumb war! You have to be stronger.”

“Ok, best two out of three.”

“Kylie, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”, you beam trying not to startle either of them. 

“Hey Dr. Y/L/N! My mom told me to come down to see if you had any more samples of my inhaler.”

“Oh, honey. I don’t. I’m so sorry. I usually try and save one for you but I had another patient who had an emergency so I had to give it to him.”

“Why do you need an inhaler? Is it for the other people whose breath you take away because you’re so adorable?”

Kylie giggles as she turns towards Eddie and blushes. 

“No! I have asthma. My mommy brings me here to get my medicine because we can’t afford the stores.”, she sighs as her head hangs.

The man’s eyes meet your sympathetic ones before softly smiling and giving the little girl his attention again. 

“Hey. Can you keep a secret?” The small child nods in earnest making his smile widen. “Have you heard of a little convenience store called Cunningham’s Corner? It’s about a 5-minute walk from here. Go to that store and ask for Chrissy. Tell her Eddie sent you and you need an inhaler. She’ll give it to you for free.”

Kylie’s eyes widen as if this man just told her a fairytale.

“Free?”

“Mhmm. But you can’t tell anyone! Because then other people will take advantage.”

After giving him a hug, she jumps down from the table and starts to head for the door. 

“Hey! Here. Give Miss Cunningham this paper when you tell her what you need, ok?”, you instruct as you hand her a prescription with the name of what she needs. 

“Ok. Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N!”

“Thank you. That was really nice of you.”

Rising from his seat, he waddles with you back to your office. 

“It’s not a problem. I heard her coughing and crying so I wanted to make sure she was alright. Is she a regular?”

“Yeah and, unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for her to come by herself. Her mom is a single mother who works 60hrs a week trying to make ends meet. They came to me when she started having her symptoms but there’s only so much I can do here with my resources.”

“Are you underfunded?”

“Yeah. I do what I can but because of where I’m located…”

“Why don’t you move to a better location?”

“I can’t do that. I can’t leave these people. They need someone to help them since a regular clinic would immediately turn them away since a lot of them have no money or no insurance.”

“You’re a very kind woman, Y/N.”

Flashing him a smile, a knock makes you jump as you quickly get up to see who it is. 

“It’s Hawkins PD Detective Jim Hopper. I’d like to have word with you for a moment.”

Right as you scan your room, Eddie hides himself in front of you against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen when you finally open the door between you and the gentleman.

“May, uh, my we come in?”

“We?”, you ask as your eyes flick to the wide, stern eyes of Steve behind him. “What’s this about, detective?”

“I don’t know if you heard but we had a gang related fight in the area and we got some intel that Edward Munson may have been severally wounded.”

“Ok? And what does that have to do with me?”

“It wasn’t far from your clinic so we thought, maybe, you heard something or saw something?”

“What time was this?”

“Around 7-8pm.”

“My clinic closes at 6 so—”

“I mean, as a doctor though I’m sure you work late hours—”

“Not last night.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie mime with his hand for you to calm down a bit and you close your eyes as you sigh before responding again. “I’m sorry, Officers. It’s just been a rough week. I left early last night to come in early this morning and do some work. I haven’t heard or seen anything but I can be on the lookout.”

Hopper nods, tilting his hat as he begins to walk away. 

“I’m just going to give her some details and information so she knows what to be on the lookout for exactly.”, Steve informs his colleague who confirms before disappearing to lean against the waiting room desk. 

Pulling out his notepad, he steps closer to you pretending to write things down. 

“Where is he?”, Steve whispers, smirking when your eyes flick to the side. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“You like it.”, Eddie murmurs. “Should we be worried?”

“No, a few of Carver’s guys are in the morgue.” 

You had seen many people come and go during your time as a physician so when the officer shook his head looking away down the hallway, you could tell he was lying. 

“What aren’t you telling him?”

Steve’s angry, amber eyes met yours as an annoyed grunt left his lips. 

“Nothing. Stay in your lane, doctor.”

“Hey.”, Eddie growled low beside you. “Watch your tone. You wouldn’t keep anything from me would you, Steven?”

“I was questioned this morning seeing as how I was jumped and then suddenly men from Carver’s gang show up dead.”, the cop sighs. “I told you not to go over there.”

You could feel the tension rising between them but you were still being watched and couldn’t risk the gangster being seen. Eddie was slipping to far in his own frustration to think that far as he began pushing off the wall to scold his partner but you quickly placed your hand on his chest lightly pushing him back down. 

“Did you get in trouble?”

“No.”, he responds to your question. “But I am being watched a lot closer hence the detective.”

“And your bruises?”

“Huh?”

“You were hurt to. Is the medicine helping at all?”

Steve’s eyes take in your face clocking in your genuine concern. 

“It is actually. Thank you.” When you smile back at his answer a tooth filled grin paints his features. “I, um, I should be done here by about 7 or so. I’ll head to your place, come get him, and then…we’ll be out of your hair.”

#############

“Ok, so, make sure to keep this clean and if you find yourself in any excruciating pain or like I told Steve if you get a fever come back to me so I can take a look.”

“Hm. I thought you never wanted to see us again.”, Eddie teased as he carefully put back on the shirt you gave him. 

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I want you to get sick or die or whatever.”

The gangster’s smile grew as he watched you blush. 

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend or husband or whatever?”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“Because if you were our girl, there’s no way I would have gone two days without calling or checking in and I’d definitely have something to say if I found two men sleeping here.”

“Our girl?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Any woman I date is with Steve as well and most can barely handle my attitude and temper let alone both of ours.”

“You seem nice enough to me.”

“I can be mean when I want to be.”

“I’m always busy…to answer your question. A lot of relationships I’ve had can’t handle my schedule.”

“Hm, I understand that. Steve and I have conflicting schedules all the time.” Eddie’s eyes watch you as you gather the trash from cleaning his cut and head towards the trashcan to avoid his gaze. “But we make time for each other. That’s what you do when you care about someone.”

“Yeah, well, I guess no one really cares about me.”, you sassily smirk as you sigh and wash your hands in the sink. 

Feeling the energy shift, you turn coming chest to chest with the man himself.

“I care about you. Steve cares about you.”

“I’m pretty sure Officer Harrington hates me.”, you giggle but it tapers off when his face remains stoic.

“He doesn’t. He wouldn’t have brought me to you if he didn’t trust you.”

“You don’t know me, Eddie.”

“I know enough.” 

Shaking your head, you laugh again trying to lighten the intense atmosphere as you begin to walk back towards the living room but his hand promptly grabs your bicep and moves you till your standing in front of him once more. 

“You saved me and helped him. I just watched you all day take care of people who can’t normally afford care. You have a kind heart and you’re extremely beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?”

A knock on your door startled you but not him as he continued to stare down at you waiting for an answer. Silently, you allowed Steve entry who immediately took in your rattled appearance. 

“Everything ok?”

“Mhmm. I was just asking Y/N if she knew how beautiful she was.”

His gorgeous, honey hues widen slightly as if he was surprised before turning his attention back to you. 

“You know you are, right?”

“I-I think you both should leave.”, you whisper with little to no confidence in what you were saying. 

“Is that what you want?”, he mused as he strolled further into your apartment. “Because we can leave right now and like you asked, disappear from your life forever. Or, maybe, you can let us thank you properly.”

“I thought you didn’t like me…said you wanted to put me in my place.”

They both chuckle making your face turn a deep crimson in embarrassment.

“Baby, that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means that I think I’d have a lot of fun playing with you.”

“Playing with me?”

Steve subtly nods his head as Eddie slowly moves closer to the living room where you two were standing. 

“Teasing you, kissing you, taking care of you…taking control of you and your gorgeous body till you’re begging me to let you cum.” Tilting his head, his eyes meet yours as his fingers caress your face. “When’s the last time you had someone take care of you?”

The other man comes up behind you, sandwiching you between them as he gently places his palm on your stomach under your blouse. 

“I asked you something, honey.”

“It’s been a while.”, you jest making Steve smirk as Eddie stepped closer to you till your back was to his chest. His hand continued to run along your skin with his fingers just barely floating under the waistband of your pants before coming back up to rub your stomach. “I’m scared.”

Everyone freezes in place at your words but as the gangster tries to drop his hand, you quickly catch it and hold it in place back on your tummy. 

“Of us?”, he asks.

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Resting his head on your shoulder, his palm wonders again this time going further as you feel him slide into your underwear and cup his hand around your heat. 

“You won’t, sweetheart. I promise, you’re safe with us. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“And neither will I. I can protect you from getting in any kind of trouble with the law or anything like that. You have two men here who control both sides of the coin…” As Steve’s voice dropped into a more and more seductive register, Eddie’s lips gently pecked your shoulder and up to your neck as his finger graze your clit while gliding them through your folds.

“You just need to let go and let us control you.”

“Fuck.”, you groaned as he slid two of his digits into your core.

“Is that a yes?”, Steve chuckles sassily as he watches your eyes close as you lean your head against his boyfriend.

“I think so, Harrington, because pretty girl here is just dripping all over my hand.”

“Yeah? We need to hear her say it though. Do you want us to take care of you tonight, honey?”

“H-He—mmm—Eddie can’t with his…with his cut.”

“Oh trust me, Y/N, that won’t be an issue. Now answer my question, please.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to take care of me.”

As if they could read each other’s minds, Eddie’s hand slipped out of your pants and Steve picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried you to your bedroom. 

“Ow! Something in your vest is stabbing me, Officer Harrington.”, you giggle before he tosses you onto your mattress. 

“Sorry. I forgot to take this stuff off. I was blindsided by a stupid question when I came in.”, he grinned as he began removing his equipment and placed them on your bedside table. 

Eddie carefully climbed in and you hastily set up pillows so he could lean back comfortable against your headboard. 

“Thank you. I don’t think that question was ever answered. DO you know how beautiful you are?”

“Sometimes I need reminding.”, you sigh as your nervous eyes meet his soft ones. 

“We can do that, sweetheart.”

Taking hold of your cheeks, he brought your lips to his and your body ignited with an electricity you had never felt before as his lips carefully but firmly mingled with yours. Steve’s laugh echoed through your room as he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you away from the gangster to bring you in front of him at the edge of the bed. 

He had taken off his shirt and out of habit as a doctor you scanned his bruises to make sure he was ok. Clocking your care once again, his fingers gripped your chin and brought your mouth to his own.

“It’s ok. I’m still a bit sore but you helped me a lot.”

As he continued to kiss your lips, you allowed him to undress you making him pause when you were fully naked in front of them. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“I told you, princess…beautiful.”, Eddie grinned.

Smiling widely at their compliments, your hands roamed Steve’s chest, kissing a trail along the way till you reached his belt and fumbled with the barrier before fully pushing down his pants. You gasped when his cock sprang free causing them both the chuckle again as you practically gapped at the size. 

“I know. It was a shock to me to.”, the gangster teased as the officer stuck out his tongue playfully. 

“You liked it. And I promise, honey, you’ll like it to.”

Gripping the base, he held his mushroom tip towards your lips and moaned when your tongue darted out to lick the small beads of precum that had begun to leak. Steve pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch as you slowly wrapped your mouth around him and gradually began bobbing your head.

 “Shit. Atta girl. Flatten that tongue. J-Just like that.”

Another set of hands softly ran down you back and over your ass before the cool sting of metal hit your behind. 

“Did you like that, pretty girl? Did you like Eddie spanking you?”, the officer asked when you moaned loudly. 

Fingers glided ever so slightly through your pussy lips and even you couldn’t deny hearing the squishy sound of your slick that obscenely filled your bedroom. 

“Oh Stevie. She definitely enjoyed that.”

“Yeah? You like it a bit rough, little girl?”

Eddie guided his middle and ring fingers inside of you eliciting a mewl from your throat that had the man inside of your mouth grunting with pleasure. 

“Fuck. I think…I think you can take me a bit deeper.”

Thrusting his hips a bit, you gag around him spilling drool and spit down his length as you mentally take note of the fact that that wasn’t all of him you choked on. 

“Come on, honey, take more. I know you can, baby.”

Tears stream down your face as you try but barely take more of him in. Gripping your jaw, he pulls out of your mouth and leans his face in front of yours as his eyes search yours. 

“Green, good. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Fuck… green.”

“Ok, then why are you crying? We haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“I-I-I wanna take more. I want to make you feel good to.”

You heard your tone as it came out of your mouth but you barely recognized it. You sounded like a child who was told she couldn’t play outside because it was raining. What was it about these men that transformed you in this way? In relationships or even one-night stands, you never cared about this kind of thing. Usually, men never complained and you were never fully satisfied after they left resorting to your vibrator to get you the rest of the way. 

But for whatever reason, you wanted to impress them. You desperately wanted them to feel good because some part of you had a feeling that they were going to do the same for you. 

Steve’s eyes softened as Eddie’s fingers slowed inside of you. 

“Be nice to her, babe. She’s got a good heart and she did take care of us.”

“Can you keep your mouth open for me, pretty girl?” He grins when you nod your head, wiping your tears with his thumb before kissing your cheek. “And you are making me feel good. Your mouth feels fucking amazing.”

You beam with pride as you do what he asked, whimpering when Eddie began building you up again. 

Holding your head still, Steve guided his cock back between your lips, doing the slow thrusts he was doing before as you kept your mouth closed around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as his pace began to quicken, his tip occasionally hitting the back of your throat. 

“There you go, baby. T-That’s it. See? Doing—fuck—doing so well. Now, stay still.”

As he began fucking your face, the gangster matched his pace making you groan as obscenities flowed from the officer’s mouth.  

“Shit. Take it, little girl. That’s right. You love the taste of my cock in your throat, don’t you?” Reaching over you, his hand calm down hard on your ass and your palm pushed at his legs signaling you needed air. “Are you gonna cum? Ask him, Y/N. Ask Eddie if it’s ok.”, he commanded as he forced your head towards the other man. 

“Eddie, please. Please… can I…”

“Yeah, princess. Cum on my fingers.”

You collapsed as you came, moaning loudly into the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. You weren’t given much time however as Steve manhandled you till you up on your hands and knees again with your face hovering over the bulge in the other man’s pants. 

After unbuckling his belt, he pushed them down just enough to free his own cock from his denim confinement and you didn’t hesitate as you wrapped your tiny hands around his thick girth. Hands clung tightly to your waist and you braced yourself when you felt Steve collect some of your arousal with his length before gradually pushing into your entrance. 

“Oh, fuck me.”

“How does she feel, Harrington?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to focus on the man in front of you, letting a long glob of spit land on his tip as you stroked it with your hand. 

“S-So…So fucking tight.” His palm came down on your ass and you groaned as he continued to push further inside of you. 

“I like my view here. Make—mmm—make sure you fuck her nice and deep. Beautiful girl deserves it after everything she’s been through.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. I plan on ruining this little pussy.”

Eddie chuckles as he watches Steve lick his lips as your cunt tightens around him at his words. 

“What about you, princess?”, he murmurs as he tenderly pets your head.

“He’s…so BIG.”

“Yeah, he is. Does he feel good?” You nod as your head hangs and he promptly grabs your jaw forcing you to look his way. “Say it.”

“Fuck, Steve, you feel so fucking good!”

“That’s a good girl.”

You mewled when you felt him bottom out, his hips connecting with yours, allowing you to feel every inch before he pulled back and slammed back into you. Eddie’s mouth fell open as you bobbed your head on his cock. While he wasn’t as big as his boyfriend, he was definitely thicker and you felt like your mouth was full of him. 

He was much gentler with you, continuing to play with your hair and mutter praises as Steve pounded into you, rocking you further down the gangster’s length as you choked and spit around him. 

“God, honey, this pussy is too…fucking…good.”, Steve grunted, smacking his lower half into yours between each word. Leaning over you, he rolled his hips, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt as your eyes rolled back. “His dick tastes amazing, doesn’t it? Mmm—fucking love when he shoves it down my throat.”

Moving out of his way, Steve envelopes Eddie into his mouth making the gangster moan as he extends his hand to tangle in his hair. As his boyfriend continued to fuck you, your own groans vibrated against the long haired boy’s balls driving him crazy as he growled through his clenched teeth. 

“Fuck! You’re both so fucking sexy. That’s it, baby boy, take my cock.”

After pumping his hips a few times, Eddie let him go and Steve pushed up onto his knees pounding into you till you were seeing stars. Taking the man’s length in your mouth again, you mimicked the other boy’s movements trying to keep a steady pace as you hurdled towards the edge. 

“A-Are you about to cum? Fuck, Y/N, you better fucking ask one of us, little girl, if you want to fucking cum!”

Your glassy, needy eyes met the chocolate ones of the man in front of you, pleading as you began to shake.

“Ask, Y/N.”

“Please, Eddie! Please, I need to cum!”

Taking a hold of your hair, he firmly tugged you till your face was fully visible. A small smile flickered across his lips, watching you struggle till he finally nodded granting you permission. 

Steve reached around and took hold of your throat, lifting you till you were pressed against him, squeezing you tightly as he fucked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Are you on the pill?”, Steve roughly growled in your ear, his rhythm and intensity increasing when you said yes. “Good because I’m going to fill up this pussy and you’re going to take it like a good little girl. You’re going to take everything I give you and be fucking thankful.”

He grunted in your ear as he held your lower half against him as he rolled his hips aggressively, pumping his release into your cunt.

“Steve.”, Eddie called in a firm tone you barely heard through your haze.

“Excuse me, honey.”

Carefully, he pulled his softening cock out of your aching hole and gently laid you on your side before crawling up the gangster’s legs and taking him into his mouth. You watched with hooded eyes as his boyfriend took him all the way down his shaft, massaging his balls with his palm, as Eddie groaned.

“That’s my good boy. You wanna swallow my cum?”

Steve nodded as his eyes met his own and with a few thrusts of Eddie’s hips, his head fell back as he released his spend down the man’s throat. After sharing a soft but passionate kiss, they turned their attention to you.

“Are you ok, babe? Do you need anything? Water?”

“Will you lay with me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course.”

You didn’t even hesitate when you scoot to Eddie’s side and wrapped your arms around your stomach, placing your head on his chest. The last thing you remember is feeling warmth behind you and the sound of Steve’s steady breathing on your skin before you fell asleep.

***

“DID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THERE WOULD BE NO CONSEQUENCES?!”

Your head shot up when you heard shouting in your living room. Eddie and Steve were missing but the voice you heard definitely wasn’t theirs. Quickly throwing on the officer’s shirt you listened as the voice continued.

“Did you really think you could come on to our territory, break into one of our stash houses, and kill a bunch of our guys?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how easy it was for me and my guys to break in.”, Eddie responded angrily. 

“Shut the fuck up, trailer trash! You think because you moved out here and took over Al’s business, you’re different but you aren’t. You’re still that garbage that he left behind with his brother before you suddenly decided you wanted in. Ah ah ah! Don’t make me shoot you, Steve. I have no problem killing a law man.”

“If you’re not here to kill us, Andrew, then what do you want?”, Steve spat.

Glancing quickly around the room, you realize his gun was still in its holster near your nightstand and as quietly as you could pulled it from its home. Tip toeing out into the hallway, you held it in front of you as you peaked around the corner. 

The person you didn’t recognize had his back to you as he pointed his own pistol at Eddie and Steve who both had their hands raised where he could see them. 

“Jason just wants Edward so we can make an example of him and what happens when you cross the Carvers.”

“I think you underestimate the Munsons, Andy.” Slowly, you creeped up behind him, praying he wouldn’t turn around. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere. I hope Jason understands that this wasn’t a good move.”

“Yeah well, you can tell him yourself. Now come on or I will shoot him.”, Andrew threatens as he points his weapon Steve.

“Not if we shoot you first.”

At Eddie’s words, you cock the gun and pull the trigger.

##############

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #mafia!eddie munson #officer!Steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #steddie angst #Spotify

[captjprice]

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Medic!Reader

He doesn't trust anyone else.

mentions : fluff, slight hurt/comfort, cute, simons adorable, fem reader

The noise and chaos of Medical has become background noise with how long you've worked here, and despite being able to hear everyone talking, it fades out in your ears.

You're working on a patient with a minor injury, having a new doctor shadow you as you explain the basics of wound cleaning and bandaging. You falter when you hear a familiar voice.

"I already told you, I don't want you doin' it."

You stay still for a moment, listening in on the conversation until the doctor that was shadowing you clears their throat. "Oh, right. Just a moment." You mumble with a half-smile. You make your way to where the commotion is coming from, finding Simon on one of the medical beds clutching his side. He looks pissed. "This needs fixing, it-" The nurse infront of him stammers, confused why he won't just let her treat him. "No. I want her to do it." Simon grunts, gesturing to you. "Why the hell has she been doing it this whole time, and now she can't?" He grumbles. You let out a little breath. "Simon. I'm busy with a patient. Let her treat you." You reason, gesturing to the wound on his stomach. "That needs to be treated. Quick." You place your hands on your hips, shifting slightly.

"Get her to do the patient. I want you to do this." He says, unmoving and keeping his eyes locked on you. You rub your temple in slight annoyance, even though you can't bring yourself to get upset with him. He's never been keen on touch, you know that. With the things he's been through you can't fault him for it. "Christ, fine. Tara, please take over for me. I have a doctor shadowing." You explain to the nurse who was originally trying to help Simon. With a wave of your hand she shuffles off and closes the curtains.

Simon's shoulders untense as you begin to lay out supplies to tend to him, and he stares at you. He's not judging. You've learned that Simon just likes looking at you, watching the way you do certain little things. "You can't do this every time." You mutter, undoing his gear and pushing his shirt up. For a moment you think Simon didn't hear you, but he looks away. "I can. And I will. You know I don't trust the others." He says, holding his shirt up. "That's okay, but it isn't what I meant. If i'm not on the battlefield with you and something happens, someone else will have to patch you up." You say softly, just the thought of it makes you uneasy. Simon, dying. He stays silent, only making a small noise as you clean the wound on his abdomen. You can practically feel his gaze boring into you, though. You know he thinks you're a beautiful lady, he's let it slip once or twice, covering it up every time by saying 'everyone is beautiful' type of bullshit. "How'd the mission go?" You chirp, hoping to break the weird silence. "Bloody awful. As you can tell. Target got away." He says, his hand balling into a fist at the sting of the alcohol. Simon huffs.

"You'll get 'im next time," You say softly, glancing up and giving a small smile. You can't really tell, but he gives the smallest smile back and nods. There was often this weird unspoken thing between the two of you, which caused Simon to feel so safe in your presence. He'd ask for you when he was hurt, always. You guessed it was just your gentleness that had him so trusting of you. He rarely let others touch him because it caused so many bad memories, but with you they didn't seem to resurface.

"Thank you for making time for me, love." He spoke, a little softer than usual. You knew how much it meant to him. You slowly reach around him to tie the bandage around his waist, glancing up at him as you tie it. Simon tilts his head and his eyes narrow, like he's smiling. It makes you nervous, and your cheeks tint a little red when you move back. "Oh, you gettin' nervous? Why's that?" He asks, and you're positive he's grinning. Simon reaches out to grab your arm, and pulls you that little bit closer. You're not really sure what to say, you never really are with him..

You stare at him, not even bothering to move away again. He's always managing to have you close.

"You were looking at me." You mumble, then gazing towards the side table. "So?" Simon asks, moving to sit a little more comfortable and thrusting his hips slightly to scoot forward. The action has you a little distracted, so you clear your throat. "Don't.. do that." You say, and he lets out a low chuckle. "'S too bad," Simon muses. "You got a pretty face." He's still watching you, searching for a reaction he'll definitely get. You shift slightly. "So you've said." You say, beginning to clean the supplies. "It's true. But you know that ain't the reason why you're the only one treating me." He states, and you hum in response.

Simon doesn't seem satisfied with your response and leans forward, grabbing your waist and tugging you back to him. You let out a small noise of protest, but he keeps you firm against his chest. He lowers his head so it's right next to yours and speaks, "You know how much you mean to me, love?" In response, you nod with wide eyes. "Good. Don't forget it." He says lowly. You're a bit frozen in place when he pulls up the lower half of his mask to reveal his mouth. Simon's lips hover above yours, and in a quick movement you press your lips against his, assuming it's what he wanted.

And you were right. He groans into your mouth, his hands rubbing from your waist to your back, squeezing you closer. You sloppily kiss him, pulling back to catch your breath. "Mindful of your wound." You blabber, mind a bit too hazed. Simon chuckles and tilts his head. "Can't you just enjoy yourself for a moment?" He teases, leaning in to kiss you again. His hands move down to your thighs, trying to get you onto the medical bed. You clumsily climb onto his lap while kissing him, almost sliding off but his firm grip on your ass keeps you seated. Simon pulls back with a grin, lightly tugging your hair. You whine in response, suddenly being shot back to the reality of your situation. "Simon, maybe not here-.." You whisper, grabbing onto his arms.

He seems to mull it over for a moment, before giving a curt nod and letting you slide back onto the ground "After your shift, then. My quarters." He says lowly, trying to conceal the hard-on in his pants as he gets off the bed. You stifle a laugh and give him some painkillers, shoving him towards the door.

You'd regret that stifled laugh later.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 #ghost mw2 #x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #fluff #cute

[silverynight]

The nurse and the pro hero

Izuku gets a little bit startled by the chaos outside; by what he can see from behind reception, there are four pro heroes struggling at the other side of the entrance.

He's ready to go out and help, but the head nurse puts a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"They're not in trouble, we are," she groans. "That's Dynamight right there."

"Oh!" Izuku gets really excited at the mention of the hero name; he's a hero fan boy at heart, even though he decided to go to a medical school. He's a nurse now and very proud of it. "And I think I spot Pinky, Chargebolt and Red Riot as well!"

It must be his lucky day because he works at a hospital for civilians so they don't see pro heroes often unless they're fighting a villain nearby. There's a hospital that specializes in treating pro heroes.

"They are his friends," the head nurse explains. "They always come with him wherever he's being a stubborn idiot," she turns around and curses when she doesn't see any of Izuku's coworkers nearby.

"What is it?"

"Everyone ran away," she sighs, sounding tired already. "Nobody likes that one; he doesn't stay still and always claims to be fine even if he has a broken bone."

"Dynamight?"

"Yeah, that little demon."

"Oh," Izuku mumbles as the four pro heroes finally manage to walk in. Two of them are practically dragging the explosive hero inside.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm afraid you'll have to assist the doctor this time, because nobody else is going to."

"That's okay!" He assures her.

"LET ME GO, SHITTY HAIR! I TOLD YOU I'M FINE!"

"You're bleeding!" Pinky rolls her eyes, not even worried about the amount of curses that come from that gremlin's mouth. "Sorry to bother you this beautiful night, but the angry pomeranian got himself hurt again."

"I'm Midoriya Izuku, I'll take you to an examination room, just follow me."

However, that's when Dynamight stops struggling completely and stares at Izuku without blinking for a while; Izuku starts getting worried even though the wound on his arm doesn't look serious. It might need a couple of stitches but that's all.

Even Charbebolt and Red Riot look at their friend in shock when they don't feel any type of resistance anymore.

"Are you alright, Dynamight-san?" Izuku asks, waving a hand in front of him. "Did you hit your head at some point?"

"Maybe he's lost too much blood already!" Chargebolt worries.

"I'M FINE!" Dynamight finally blinks and then growls at his friends before shaking them off.

Pinky is the only one who looks relaxed, she seems amused by the situation even.

"Lead the way then," the explosive pro hero tells Izuku and it's the first time the green haired nurse doesn't see him yelling at someone.

When they're inside and Izuku asks the pro hero to sit on the examination table, he starts thinking that maybe all the rumors about his bad behavior are slightly exaggerated. Because the pro hero does exactly as Izuku asks him too.

His friends are looking at him with their jaws dropped.

The doctor walks in while Izuku is cleaning the wound and even she looks a little bit surprised at the sight.

"It seems to be only your arm," she observes, leaning closer to Dynamight.

"I'm done!" Izuku beams, finally stepping away from him, looking happy with the way he patched the pro hero up.

Even though the doctor is still speaking, he can feel the pro hero's eyes on him.

"Thank you, uhh... Midoriya."

The other pro heroes and even the doctor herself look like they're in shock; Red Riot even chokes at Dynamight's words.

"You're welcome!"

"I'm Bakugo Katsuki, but you can call me Katsuki."

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears, but he shakes his head.

"I'm afraid I can't, we barely know each other. Besides, I'm just your nurse."

It seems like Bakugo is about to argue, but instead he nods, looking like a kicked puppy. Izuku regrets his decision almost immediately.

"I thought he was really nice," he comments out loud to the head nurse when the pro heroes are gone.

"It seems Midoriya tamed the angry pomeranian," the doctor says. "I think he has a crush on our sweet boy."

Izuku's face turns strawberry red, he's sure of it.

"That's not true!" He says at the same time the head nurse says: "It makes sense, that's why he finally shut up as soon as he saw him."

Izuku shakes his head, refusing to believe something as ridiculous as that.

***

Bakugo keeps coming back every time he's hurt; Izuku thinks that maybe he's in charge of that area of the city, but another nurse assures him that's not the case, as he shows him a video on YouTube of him fighting at the other side of the city. The video was live just a couple of hours ago.

But that's ridiculous, why would he go to that hospital then?

"He always asks for you," the head nurse points out, to which Izuku shakes his head again.

Sometimes his friends come with him, although they never try to grab him again because the pro hero walks inside voluntarily each time.

"Your eyes are pretty," Bakugo blurts out once, prompting Izuku to almost drop the tray of medical equipment he was carrying.

"Thank you, Bakugo-san." He mumbles, trying not to sound as flustered as he feels.

"Call me Katsuki."

Izuku tries to focus on his task and inspects the wound on Bakugo's shoulder. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be broken, and the doctor confirms it a couple of minutes later.

"Your pro hero is here again," now the entire staff calls Bakugo Izuku's pro hero, much to the green haired nurse embarrassment.

They even say that in front of Bakugo once and the pro hero doesn't even blink.

Bakugo doesn't help his case that much either; he starts bringing Izuku coffee, hot chocolate and All Might merch signed by the former pro hero himself once he found out Izuku was an All Might fan.

One of Izuku's coworkers shows him that the people are spreading rumors about Dynamight being in love with someone from that hospital on Twitter because a couple of people have seen him there.

Izuku thinks he saw one of their patients trying to take a picture of the pro hero once, so it makes sense.

"But that doesn't mean it's me."

"Who else, boy?" The head nurse rolls her eyes at him. "Honestly, for someone so brilliant, you can be quite dense sometimes."

Izuku doesn't believe it, but he does give in and starts calling Bakugo 'Kacchan' mostly because he couldn't bring himself to call him Katsuki; it sounds too intimate for him.

But then Katsuki starts using his given name and Izuku can't help but blush every single time he does that.

Katsuki seems to be very pleased by the situation.

***

"Your pro hero is waiting for you in the examination room," the head nurse smirks and Izuku notices that his other coworkers are looking with interest in his direction.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, sweetie," Pinky says, smiling at him as she stops Chargebolt from stepping closer to him. "We said we would wait outside, remember, Kaminari?"

Chargebolt pouts, turns around and right into Red Riot's embrace. The other pro hero gives him a couple of headpats to calm him down.

"I'm sure Bakubro will tell us everything."

Very confused, Izuku decides to step inside the room. However, for the first time Katsuki is in his civilian clothes and he seems to be completely fine.

"What–" That's when he notices the bouquet of cherry blossoms. "Oh."

"Izuku, I'd love for you to take care of me and patch me up for the rest of our lives."

That sounds dangerously close to a–

"What the heck, Blasty?" Pinky's voice is very clear at the other side of the door. "You said you were going to take it slow!"

"AND YOU PROMISED NOT TO EAVESDROP!" Katsuki yells back before staring at Izuku again, this time blushing to the tip of his ears, completely flustered. "I didn't mean to say that out loud, sorry... although I mean it."

"Kacchan!" Izuku blurts out, heart beating inside his chest like crazy.

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Izuku?"

Despite being absolutely nervous, he doesn't hesitate when he whispers, shyly: "I'd love to."

The cheering outside tells him that Pinky wasn't the only one eavesdropping, but Izuku doesn't care because Katsuki is taking him in his arms and kissing him on the lips.

They pull away, panting and blushing only after a couple of knocks at the door.

"Listen, Midoriya, I'm really happy for you, but you better not be making out with your pro hero in there!" The head nurse yells at the other side, prompting Izuku to giggle and Katsuki to smirk.

"I'll see you at the end of my shift, Kacchan."

"I can't wait."

***

Patreon

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

[dancingtotuyo]

8. a cry of my heart to see

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Tragedy strikes Jackson

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: blood, medical care (probably bad I'm not a doctor tried to keep it brief and vague), Character Death, loss, grief, funeral, smut, P I V, cream pie, Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: Shout out to my girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for the beta read!

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3273

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

One Year Later 

He’s been out on patrol for days. They’re widening the perimeter and he’s on the initial team to do so. It’s nerve-wracking. You’re losing sleep. 

Maria tries to assure you they’re fine. No news is good news, but it falls on deaf ears. Her husband isn’t out there in unexplored areas. Joel is. Tommy tries to hide his worry. Despite both their assurances, you know they’re concerned. It’s risky.

For the most part, life goes on. Ellie has been staying in your guest room since Joel left. You thought she would look forward to having the house to herself, not that Joel doesn’t already spend the majority of nights at your house. You wonder if she fears the same thing you do. 

They’re supposed to be back in a week, but day 8 passes without sign of them. 

On the ninth day, one of the gate watchmen barrels into the clinic, causing you to knock over an entire bin of instruments you had just boiled. His eyes are wide, skin pale causing your stomach to drop. 

“What is it?”

“We just spotted them about a mile out. They’re down a rider. Another looks pretty banged up, can barely sit up in the saddle.” 

"Who?” You fight the urge to vomit. 

“We don’t know.”

“Go get Pooley.” The panic is setting in. You can’t do this. You can’t go into concerned girlfriend mode. Is that what you are? It doesn’t sound quite right. No, you need to be the medical professional you were taught to be. Calm, cool, collected like the professional you were on the UT Trauma team.

The man nods, rushing out of the clinic. You look around, pulling out everything you might need for easy access. You don’t know if he was mulled or shot or something else. This is hardly the first time something like this happened, but it’s the first time you haven’t been able to focus. 

It’s silly in hindsight, but you never worried quite like this over Gabe. He always promised to come back. He seemed so confident that he would that you’d bought into his confidence, and he always did until he didn’t. 

Once you’re convinced you’re set up enough to take care of the incoming injured, your feet carry you out toward the gate. It’s beautiful out today. The sun shines. Birds chirp and bees buzz. The kids play tag in the apple orchard, but it all feels like a bad dream like the world is moving in slow motion. There’s a ringing in your ears. 

The gate is just opening as the group draws closer. A small crowd has already formed, mostly the families of those sent out. You’re too far away to see out of the gate so you have to wait for them to file in. 

The first rider comes in. It’s not Joel. You can feel your grip on reality fading. You’re trying to stay. You have a job to do. Maria appears next to you as the second rider crosses in. She tugs you closer to the chaos, through the families waiting with bated breath. Two more. Not Joel. She brings you next to Dr. Pooley who waits ready to spring into action. People make room around you so you can tend to the injured as soon as they come in. 

Another pair cross into safety. John Lacy holds the reins of Adam Perkin’s horse as Adam hunches over in the saddle looking closer to death than life. John has them next to you within seconds, spewing the story of his injury to you and the doctor. You can’t pay attention, going on your tiptoes to catch sight of the last rider, but the horses block your view. The gate is closing now.

“Maria?” You look at her in desperation, pulled between the need to help and get status on Joel. 

She gives you a nod and dashes off to investigate further. 

Adam half rolls out of the saddle, in and out of consciousness before several strong sets of arms aid him to the ground. 

“Someone get the gurney!” A voice calls out as you fall to your knees beside the man. It’s your voice. Your body is taking over, but your brain is still elsewhere. The ringing in your ears grows louder. “Someone tell me what we’re looking at!” Your shaking hands rip the stained flannel and undershirt. They're already rags anyway. 

“Took a knife to the gut two days ago. Closed it up but it got infected and reopened on the way back,” John reports. 

“And you didn’t stop to close it back up?” You yell. 

“We had to drop the med bag.”

You groan in frustration. Dr. Pooley takes vital signs. Even in the haze you notice the signs that he’s over concentrating. His lips move to count Adams BPM and then he stops and starts over. 

“What do you have for me, Doc?” You’re desperate for help. Desperate for the old man to be able to do his job, but you see it in his face. He’s about to admit what you’ve assumed for months. 

“I don’t know,” he looks as lost as you feel right now, drowning in the panic of his own mortality. His own brain ceasing to work. You’ve seen the signs of dementia for months, and now the moment you need his help the most, he can’t think straight. You need his brain. You need to talk through this. 

“Gurney!” Someone yells, pushing toward you with the homemade gurney. It’s more of a litter you’d find in a medieval era movie, but it does the trick. 

They slam it to the ground, you don’t even have to let out the instructions before someone is counting and Adam is moved onto the stretcher. “Carefully!” You keep pressure on his wound, it’s definitely bleeding again. They must’ve missed something or it’s been bleeding internally all this time. Damnit! 

You’re almost to the clinic when you hear it, a life preserver in the raging ocean, Ellie’s voice. “JOEL!”

You turn to see her arms wrapped around his midsection, holding her as tight as she does to him. His eyes flicker to yours, and it’s like you snap back into your body with a thud, your mind crisp and clear. He smiles weakly your way and you can breathe again. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you. You’re pretty sure you’ve technically just performed a surgery you were in the room for once as a nurse 22 years ago. You probably missed most of the steps, but you know it was Adam’s only hope. Joyce Dobbins comes in with a poultice that’s supposed to help fight infection and “doctors him right up” as she likes to say. You don’t know enough to have an opinion. She’s the herbalist. 

You shower at the clinic, bones weary and eyelids drooping. Joyce knows enough to monitor him over night as does Rachel, Adam’s wife. 

You stumble home, the days events replaying on repeat in your head. The multiple times you thought you were going to lose Adam yet he somehow never faded. Lindsey’s never ending sobs from the backroom as she mourned Paul, you delivered their baby three years ago. Joel standing there giving you exactly what you needed so you could save a friend. 

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore the dangers of the outside world while tucked within the walls of Jackson, your slice of normal in the world. Tonight is not one of them. 

You stumble up the porch stairs, anything but graceful as you cross the threshold. The house is quiet- no, peaceful. It’s an odd feeling compared to your raging mind. The house is clean, spotless. The orange glow of your living room lamp and the kitchen light warm you. Rumours spins in the corner, halfway through Songbird. You catch Joel in the kitchen wiping down the countertops. Your tea kettle whistles softly as he turns off the gas stove. 

“Joel…” your voice is hoarse. He spins around. He doesn’t smile, only walks toward you, pulling your limp frame into his as soon as he can. “I missed you,” you whisper. 

“I missed you too, Sweetheart.” His face burrows into the crook of your neck. 

“I thought…” you can’t finish the sentence without tears falling down your cheeks. He rocks you both softly. 

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

He kisses your head softly and then your lips. As much as you want to fall into bed, he forces you to eat something, drink the tea he’s brewed for you. You can barely sit upright, but you eat and drink and finally, he guides you upstairs, tucks you into bed, and curls up behind you. You fall asleep before he starts whispering sweet reassurances in your ear. 

You pull yourself out of bed earlier than you should. You have to go check in on Adam at the clinic. No news is good news. Anytime you’re not dragged out of bed after a day like yesterday, it’s a good thing. 

He’s not conscious but his fever is lower than it was when you left and that eases your worries some. Rachel doesn’t leave his bedside. 

Lindsey is in the backroom as they re- wrap Paul’s body. They’ll bury him today. He’s already been dead for three days. You take Lindsey’s hand without a word, standing solemn next to her. 

A hot tear marks your cheek as you watch Maria and Joyce diligently work. You were never awarded this luxury, could never gaze upon Gabe’s face one last time. Didn’t get to say goodbye. 

He has a tombstone in the cemetery. You don’t visit it often. He’s not there, his ashes spread to the wind now, rolling over the earth like invisible tumbleweeds. He probably likes that better anyway. 

The funeral is short, but all of Jackson crowds around for the service, to bury their fallen friend. Joel holds you close, arm wrapped around your waist. You lean heavy against him, gaining all your support from his frame. Carter and Ellie sit on the ground in front of you. 

When it’s time to lower Paul into the ground, Joel makes sure you’re steady on your feet before joining the rest of the patrol group. Adam is still unconscious in the clinic. They lower his body to the ground with precision that is too practiced. You wonder if he’s thinking of her, how he had to leave her body behind. He calls out her name at night sometimes. You know he’s reliving the night Sarah died. 

Lindsey’s cries start to pick up again. You slide onto the bench beside her, squeezing her hand tightly. Grace sits opposite you and Elaine stands behind. You don’t know Lindsey that well, but she’s joined your ranks now. Other women who have lost spouses close in around the grieving woman, a moment of solidarity. It’s a group that’s too large for your liking, too many lives taken. 

Joel holds your hand on the walk home. You keep walking, taking your path earlier than normal. You don’t speak, too many memories in your mind, too many emotions flooding your heart. 

You stop in at the clinic. Adam is in and out of consciousness. Joyce is giving him something for the pain. 

You cut your walk short, just one lap tonight. There’s a note on the door. Carter is at Maria and Tommy’s for a sleepover. You sigh in relief, thankful to not have to worry about another human being tonight.

Joel helps you out of your shoes. He helps you upstairs. His hands move slowly over you, half roaming, half massaging your weary muscles. He follows your collarbone and shucks the cardigan from your shoulders, frees you from your jeans leaving you in nothing but a tank top. It’s one of the few times his eyes don’t immediately land on your exposed crotch. He can’t help but chuckle at your commitment to not wearing underwear. 

Fingers delve into your tight calves. You let out a soft moan as you fall back into the mattress, sheets cool against your skin. 

Your eyes close, relishing in the feeling of him. This is the first real chance you’ve had to spend together since he got back. There’s nothing inherently sensual to his movements and the way he touches you, but your body heats in response, craving the connection, the assurance. 

The air shifts as your breath hitches. His fingers crawl up your legs leaving tiny trails of fire as he presses a kiss to each of your calves. Desire begins to burn in your body, slow and hot. “Joel…” You moan, legs falling open. 

“I know, Sweetheart,” He feels it too, voice low and thick as his eyes darken. “I know.”

Your hands tangle in his curls as he takes his time covering your thighs in kisses, swiping his tongue over your skin from time to time. “I’m here,” he says again. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

There’s no rush to the finish line, neither of you have the energy for that tonight. It’s slow, languid like a hike up a steep cliff as his mouth slowly greets your slick cunt, his tongue runs through your folds at a steady pace over and over and over and over. He’s pulling you closer to the edge, taking his time until finally, you cry out arching into his mouth, spilling more of yourself onto his tongue. 

He pulls away, chin glistening in your soft bedroom light, proud smile on his lips. “That’s my girl.” 

You whimper in response, hands traveling up his forearms. His calloused palms roam over your thighs and hip, fingers drawing soft patterns across your skin. 

Leading with his lips, he makes his way up your sternum. Not a drop of urgency in his body, he eases up your tank top. It’s like he has all the time in the world. You wish for all the time in the world as long as you get to spend it with him. 

Finally, his lips meet yours. You taste yourself on his lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands wander his shoulder and neck, your fingers glide through his hair again. Nails rake down his back. At some point he shed his shirt and pants, leaving him bare against you. 

“Lay on your back,” you say.

He pulls back slowly, eyebrows raised. “What are you thinking about?”

“Having you on your back.”

He chuckles, warm arms wrapping around your middle as he rolls over. You brace yourself on your knees. His hard cock presses against your thigh. You run it through your folds. Joel lets out a soft moan as his eyes glaze with lust. “Fuck, Sweetheart. Let me in there.”

“Patience,” you chide, but have no intention of keeping him waiting for long. 

You nudge his dick against your clit, sending sparks through your veins until you center your opening over him. He holds your hips as you slowly sink onto him. You stretch around him, filling you so completely. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, you sit there, eyes focused on each other exchanging soft pants. 

Your cunt clenches around him, pulling moans from both of you, but you don’t move, hands finding purchase against his soft stomach, thumb running through his dark happy trail. The two of you bask in the feeling of your skin against the other’s, desperate for the certainty that you’re alive and breathing, that the blur you’re living in is reality and you still have each other. 

He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your teeth scrape against it. Then you lift up just a little bit, keeping him mostly inside you before you sink back down. You keep the slow pace as you ease up and down, increasing the distance a little more each time.

 Joel’s eyes never move from you, sometimes meeting yours and other times appreciating your naked form above him. His hand trails down your torso, finding the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit with the precision only granted by his familiarity with your body. He has you memorized, every single inch of you. 

You let out a sharp gasp when he touches you. He holds his thumb steady against you, letting your movements drag his thumb across your clit. You clench around him and he groans. Up and down, your hands perched on his hairy chest, nails biting into his pecs.

 As you draw nearer to the peak, Joel starts to meet you, hitting a different angle inside of you. You let out a long moan, head tipping backward. Then you reach the crest, cunt milking his cock, coming undone on top of him. 

Sweat beads along Joel's forehead as your dripping pussy flutters around him. He’s not far behind you, filling you with his spend. The feel of him inside you, coating you, causes another breathy moan to leave your lips. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” He pants, pulling you down beside him, sweaty skin flush against his. 

You smile softly at him, brushing the curl in front of his forehead back. He kisses your palm. You should feel guilty for enjoying Joel’s comforts, his warm skin against yours when Lindsey lays in an empty bed across the way, but all you feel is relief. You’re grateful to be spared heartache for once. 

Eventually, Joel rolls out of bed, returning with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess he left behind. You’ve pulled on his white tshirt. You don’t say a word, just stare at him in the lamp light. He’s beautiful, a gentle giant, and he’s yours. 

When he crawls back beside you, he looks at you like he reads every thought in your mind, kisses your forehead, and turns out the lamp. You turn on your side. He spoons you, arm thrown over your waist. 

His soft snores start to play in your ears. The crease in his forehead is nonexistent with sleep as you look over your shoulder. Then, it hits you. You’re happy here with him despite the last 48 hours. It feels wrong, like you cheated death. You just hope it doesn’t come back to collect double, but you’re so damn happy. Joel Miller has permeated every single fiber of your being. 

You’ve known this, but now, you accept it. Your muscles tense with it. It’s not enough to send you spiraling by any means, but you fought it for so long, you’re not sure how to proceed. You could tell him now, wake him up and finally let the words slip off your tongue. More tension gathers between your shoulders. 

Joel mumbles, tightening his grip around you as he pulls you flush against him. He kisses your shoulder. 

“Don’t start with that.” Sleep coats his voice. You wonder how he’s so in tune with you even in sleep he can feel the tension. 

“Don’t think it works like that.”

He hums, squeezing you again. His lips press between your shoulder blades, beard brushing against your skin sweeping the tension away, pulling the thoughts from your head. 

He chuckles as you sink into him. “You sure about that.”

You reach behind you. Your nails rake over his thigh, just above his knee until you find your target. You pluck one of his leg hairs with a practiced precision. 

“Ow! Not nice!”

You laugh, burrowing into your pillow. “Go to sleep, old man.”

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek, holding you so close your brain can’t think of anything but his solid frame at your back. 

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