You know how in Avatar the last airbender whenever an episode is heavily bending related they put sokka through situations™ (such as putting him in a hole for a whole episode)
summary: an old bet has accidentally resurfaced and you question where you stand in your relationship with Jack.
warnings: hurt/comfort. insecurity. jealousy. misunderstanding trope-kinda. spoilers for the pitt s2 (especially ep 08).
note: gosh it’s finally here. thank you so much for all the love in the og draft! I can't believe it got over 4k notes???? thank you guys ❤️
wc: ~4k
images by @wesandresons ; dividers by me lol
When you work in the ER, surrounded by life, death, sorrow, guilt, grief… it’s important to take joy in the moment when you can. Because you can’t dwell too much on the patients you lose. You gotta learn to compartmentalize, no matter how small. And in the Pitt, you do bets. Ahmad is usually the one setting them up, and big or small, there’s always something to bet on.
Today, on the 4th of July, the hot topic is what’s causing Westbridge to divert their patients and how long will they close their ER?
You bet $30 on system overload for 4 hours.
And now, the betting pool only gets bigger.
“So. System overload, huh?” Robby asks, stepping up beside you as he studies the board. “How’d you come up with that one?”
You grin, “Too many medical dramas.”
“God, you watch those?” Robby grimaces, shaking his head.
You shrug, “Jack watches them, too. Actually, it was his idea.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure it was. Speaking of Jack, I’m surprised you let him join SWAT today.”
Sighing, your shoulders immediately fall. It’s a topic you’ve argued with Jack several times. You don’t understand why he wants to volunteer today. The job is dangerous, he’s retired from the army, you can’t wrap your head around why can’t he just work a regular shift. But at the end of the day, you still chose to support him. Because Jack has his demons, too. And maybe this is his way to face them. Whatever the outcome, your job is to be there when it’s over. To hold the line. To catch him if he falls.
“Let him?” You scoff, “No, he does what he wants.”
“Maybe it’s an adventure thing.”
You hum sarcastically, “Mm-hmm, like you and your bike?”
“We all need some sort of therapy, right?”
“I guess,” You sigh again, “Jack’s probably gonna stop by later at the end of the shift. Before you head off on your grandadventure.”
“You know, you’re the only person today who’s called my sabbatical an adventure and not a mid-life crisis.” Robby grins.
“Nuh-uh,” You put up a hand, “I still think it’s a mid-life crisis trip. No helmet, Robby? Really? I saw you pull up.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth and pretends to busy himself. “Oh, would you look at that. Patients. Back to work, doctor.”
You just shake your head at him.
You spent the next hours moving nonstop. Treating patients, teaching med students and interns, spending some time with Baby Jane Doe. So far nothing has blown up in your face yet, which is a good sign, but it’s the 4th of July. Crazy things are bound to happen on this day.
You just finished taking care of a head lac, sanitizing your hands while you exit the patient room and checking your phone. Jack’s last check-in was a couple hours ago, and you didn’t see it.
→ Change our bet. Cyberattack. 5 hours.
Your brows raise, but there’s a sigh of relief. How does he get intel like these?
Regardless, you make your way towards Ahmad. At least Jack’s safe.
“Oh, I know that look.” Ahmad guesses, “Changing your bet? Gotta double it.”
“Double??” You scoff, “Come on, man.”
“Hey, I didn’t make the rules.” He raises his hands in surrender, “So what’s it gonna be?”
You exhale through your nose, handing him the extra $30. “Cyberattack. 5 hours.”
“Interesting,” He notes, “Princess said the same thing.”
You shrug, analyzing the board for anything interesting. That’s when you notice a sticky note buried under several others. One corner sticks out just enough for you to catch the name written across it; ‘Abbot’. A bet on Jack? What could it be about?
You reached up and picked it out. When you read the content, your face falls immediately.
'abbot <3 mohan. how? when?'
And you see several bets being placed on it.
$20 they makeout in the oncall room. end of month -princess.
$10 they fuck to relieve stress. after 4th of july -santos.
$30 abbot confesses first. before end of year. -donnie.
$40 never. jack wouldn't have the guts to do it. -robby.
$40 also never. mohan rejects him. -dana.
There are several others, but you can't read them anymore. You feel like your ears are ringing, you can't think straight, and you need to breathe.
Jack and Samira? Jack had something with Samira? Why didn’t he tell you? Was it one sided? Does Samira know? Who won the bet? Did anything happen between them? Does Jack still feel something towards her now?
You shove the sticky note in your pocket, rushing out of the room to go somewhere you can breathe some fresh air. You run to the ambulance bay, but Robby’s there right now and you cannot deal with that, remembering that he bet Jack wouldn’t dare make a move on Samira. Which means he knew. No, everyone knew.
Fuck. Just how embarrassing is this? You joined PTMC a little over a year ago and fell in love with Jack. You were never shy about it, never hesitant to be seen with him, or to let people know you were together. And now you’re realizing you might not have been the actual woman he originally wanted like that.
Your stomach twists at the thought. It shouldn’t matter. He had a life before you. You know that. He didn’t owe you anything. Still, something about finding out this way makes you feel stupid, like you walked into an inside joke everyone else was already in on. And you’re the punchline.
You turn to a random patient’s room, pretending to check on them.
“—Our little secret.”
You manage to hear a voice before you open the curtains, and you see your Jack sitting on the bed with his shirt off, with Samira with her gloves on, standing behind him.
Your eyes widen and you stop in your tracks.
If you were being rational and logical, you would be able to make the connection that Samira is patching Jack up from a wound, but you're dealing with too much information too fast, and the twisting feeling in your chest only gets worse.
Jack can see it in your eyes. The way they’re tearing up, how your chest is heaving, and how you can’t really make eye contact—you’re about to panic. Fight or flight. And he knows exactly what happens next if it hits full force: you’d shut down, you’d barely speak.
“Sweetheart—”
“No,” You say immediately, bringing a hand to your mouth because you feel like you could throw up, “Don’t— I can’t—”
He stands up, already wanting to hold you, but you're already stepping away from the room to find somewhere you could be alone.
Are you just a rebound because he couldn’t get Samira? Just a replacement? Did he settle for you? Was he just lonely, and you happened to be there at the right time, saying the right things, filling a space that was never really meant for you? Is he dating you just to get her jealous?
You walk as quickly and as calmly as you can out to the ambulance bay again, seeing it’s empty now.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the cool air brushing against your face. Your chest isn’t heaving anymore. The breaths you take are still short, but your head is clearer now. However, the tightness in your chest, the aching pain, they don’t go away.
Your breath becomes a sob, and before you know it, tears are falling from your eyes.
“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, wiping the tears with your sleeves.
It’s a ridiculous thing to cry over.
You have Jack. He’s yours. You’re just being insecure. Jealous. Overthinking and overreacting. That’s all this is.
So why does it still hurt so much?
There’s no doubt that Jack wants to be with you. He shows it every day. But if Samira had reciprocated back then… if things had lined up differently… where would that have left you?
Fuck. No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.
You’re not sure when you’ve dropped to the ground, crouching while keeping your head hanging low. All you know is, you’ve probably stayed too long out in the bay, because Robby’s found you and he looks concerned. So you quickly duck back inside.
You’re not trying to avoid Jack. It’s just been incredibly chaotic ever since they announced the system was going offline to prevent a cyberattack—which also means you and Jack won the bet, yay—that everyone’s drowning trying to keep up with the paperwork.
Besides, you haven’t really seen him ever since the little… incident you saw. Right now he’s occupied in a trauma with Robby and Whitaker, your eyes meeting for a fleeting second through the glass doors and you can see him fighting the urge to go to you before Robby calls him again.
You swallow hard. The sticky notes in your pocket feeling like it weighs a ton.
Right after you’ve finished the discharge papers of one of your patients and ding the call bell, you feel his presence next to you, holding your arm and guiding you to the lockers.
He doesn’t look happy.
Once the door closes, Jack lets your arm go, and you’re backed against the wall. His arms are in his pockets, but they might as well be next to your head with the way he’s looking at you.
“What’s going on?”
You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know where to begin.
I found out about you and Samira. Do you love her or me? What was that ‘little secret’ you guys were talking about? If she told you she loved you now, would you choose her? Why didn’t you tell me?
Jack exhales through his nose, the tension clear. He turns to his locker to grab his things. “Look, I gotta go. Gotta sleep a bit before my night shift later. I know this isn’t ideal, we don’t have much time, but… I’d rather we talk about some of it now than later.”
You close your mouth, nodding and understanding.
He softens slightly. “Baby, please. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
You glance at your feet, biting your lip, pressing your nails to your palms to calm your nerves and finally gather the courage to ask: “Do you have… feelings… for Samira?”
Jack’s head snaps toward you so fast it almost startles you. His brows are furrowed. His eyes are sharp and almost pointed at you, he definitely was not expecting that question.
“Or, did you?” You add, trying to correct yourself.
His hard expression hasn’t changed, but he’s no longer looking at you. He closes his locker, fumbling with his bag.
And it’s his silence that breaks you.
“Jack?” You ask, voice sounding like you’re in disbelief.
“No—” He immediately answers, “—I don’t. Sorry, that question just… took me by surprise.”
You don’t look convinced.
“Baby,” Jack softens, stepping closer, “There is nothing going on between me and Mohan. I promise.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to will the tears away. “Are you sure?”
His brows raise, because why would you ask him that? “Yes—look, where is this coming from? Baby, I promise what you saw earlier was just a coincidence, okay? I was gonna patch myself up but she was already there. There is nothing going on.” He’s holding onto you now, looking deeply into your soul with concern.
Because he needs you to understand there’s no one else in this world for him. His entire existence, his entire life, revolves around you now. He doesn’t know how else to convince you, not when you look like he’s betrayed your trust.
Your lip trembles.
You should believe him. You know he’s probably telling the truth. But you can’t help but feel there’s still something he’s hiding from you. So you fish the wrinkled sticky note in your pocket.
“I found this buried behind the other betting notes,” You mutter, putting the notes in his palm.
Jack hasn’t opened the notes yet, looking at you for an explanation first.
“I would’ve understood if you had just told me in the beginning,” you continue, your throat tightening despite how hard you’re trying to stay calm. “I mean, it’s not like you owed me an explanation. I just… I don’t understand why I had to find out like this.”
He finally unfolds the wrinkled notes, and his jaw clenches when he reads them.
He doesn’t really react. He’s not shocked. And that tells you what you need to know.
“Oh my God,” you breathe, a hollow laugh escaping, the sadness and hurt simmering into disbelief. “You knew about the bet.”
“Whoa, no—” Jack immediately interjects. “Not in the way you think. I found out about this a long time after it ended.”
Your eyes snap to him. “It ended?”
“Yes—”
“Who won the bet?”
“Why does it matter?” Jack sighs but then answers anyway, “I don’t know, honey.”
You bite your lip, trying to look anywhere else but his eyes, but you can’t escape him.
Your mind is still so loud. It keeps going, keeps spinning, feeding you every worst-case scenarios where you're the one who loses. It's exhausting, living in your own head like this. And you don't know how to tell Jack that. How do you explain that your biggest fear isn't what did happen, but what could. That somewhere in the back of your mind you're terrified that if Samira changed her mind, you'd lose him without warning.
“Hey.” His voice drops quieter. His hand comes up to your jaw, tilting your face back toward his. “Look at me.”
You do, reluctantly. And you hate how much just looking at him undoes you.
“I need you to hear me right now,” he says, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Just listen to my voice, okay? Not whatever your brain has been spinning all day. Me.”
“Jack—”
“Yes, I had a crush on Mohan,” he says plainly. “It was nothing. It went nowhere because I didn’t want it to. And then months later, you showed up, and I never thought about her ever since.” He shakes his head slowly. “You’re the light of my life. First time I saw you, I knew you’re it for me.”
Despite yourself, a small, watery laugh escapes you. “We were yelling at each other.”
“In my defense, it was your first day and no one told me there was a new hot doctor in town. And we also made out right after, so…”
You shake your head with a small smile. The ache in your chest hasn't fully gone yet, but is much more manageable now. You swallow hard after a beat passes. “You could've told me.”
Jack nods, not making excuses of it. “You’re right. I should have. I didn't think it mattered enough to bring up. And that was stupid of me. But I promise, it was never something I was hiding from you. I’d forgotten about it. I didn’t even think of it.”
You nod back. “What was the little secret?” you ask quietly. “What I walked in on earlier… what did she mean by that?”
He exhales and opens his mouth to explain, when the locker room door swings open and Robby comes in.
“You guys better not be playing hide the zucchini,” Robby jokes, “Jack, Howard is ready for transport. They need you out front.”
Jack's jaw tightens. He looks at Robby, then back at you, and you can see it in his face, the frustration of fucking terrible timing.
“Give me a minute.” He says.
Robby hesitates for just a second, then gives a small nod and lets the door shut behind him.
Jack turns back to you. His hand finds your face again, tilting up so you're looking at him. “She was helping me with my wound on my back. A bullet grazed my vest. I wanted it to be off the books. That was the secret.” He gave you a summary.
He slings his backpack on his other shoulder and gives your forehead a kiss. “We’ll talk more later, okay? I promise you that’s all it was.”
You nod, not fully trusting your voice.
He lingers a second longer than he should, thumb brushing your cheek, and then he's gone. And you don’t like how everything feels too quiet without him in it.
One year ago…
“Are they still at it?” Robby frowns, hearing the loud voices coming from the supply closet.
You and Jack only met moments ago. It’s your first day in PTMC, and by some luck, you arrived on a stretcher, doing chest compressions on a patient. Robby’s met you before, so though he was surprised, he didn’t get in your way.
However, Jack, having never met you, immediately carried you off the patient, taking over the compressions himself.
“Wha— Hey!”
“Somebody get her out of here!”
If it weren’t for Robby finally explaining that you’re the new attending joining them and not a patient or visitor, Jack would’ve probably dragged you out himself.
“Sounds like it.” Dana confirms. “She’s feisty. I like her.”
Robby hums, “Reminds you of yourself, punchy?”
Dana chuckles, “You’re lucky I haven’t actually punched anyone, Cap.”
Your argument with Jack continues.
“You didn’t have to man-handle me like that!”
“I wasn’t man-handling you, it was just easier to carry you rather than pulling you to come down! What if you’d fallen??”
“Well I could’ve fallen with you 'carrying' me anyway!”
Jack scoffs, “What, you think I'm not strong enough to carry you, princess?”
“Don't fucking call me that. And no, I don't think you are.” You step closer as if challenging him.
You stay like that for a second. Eyes glaring at each other, out of breath, bodies so close that you can feel each other’s warmth… and with one glance at his lips, Jack’s resolve breaks. You’re kissing him before you know it. His hand on the back of your neck, the other around your waist to feel your body press against him, while yours are bunched in his scrubs, pulling him closer.
You moan when you feel his tongue intrude your mouth. And Jack’s about to slip his hand under your shirt when there’s a knock on the door.
“Alright guys, quit it.” Robby’s voice booms from outside. “It’s gotten quiet so I’m assuming you’re… doing something else. We got a trauma coming in. Let’s go.”
You push yourself off of him immediately. Wiping your mouth of his saliva and looking away despite your heavy breaths and flushed face.
Jack smirks, licking his lips and opening the door for you, signaling you to go first. You roll your eyes and walk first anyway, cursing on your way out.
“Jack-ass.”
“Brat.”
The memory brings a smile to your face now.
It’s definitely not the most romantic way to meet the love of your life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And needless to say, you’re grateful Robby didn’t report you to HR on your first day.
You’ve decided to work an extra couple of hours since things are still chaotic and the night shift would need help. Not to mention that you don’t really want to go home to an empty house right now.
It only took you and Jack about a month before admitting that you wanted to be more than just friends who occasionally make out. And once you’ve embraced the fact that you’re in love with him, everything became easier. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. You still argue, but none of it makes you want to walk away.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
You feel Jack’s arm around you as he kisses your head.
You lean into his touch. “Hi.”
He looks better now after a few hours of sleep, changed into another black t-shirt and dark cargo pants. He stands beside you, shoulders touching. He doesn't say anything right away, and neither do you.
You’ve had the rest of the day to think about what happened. Your feelings. Your relationship. And you have to admit, your earlier reaction was… a lot of anxiety and panic. Jack left you texts throughout the day, and his reassurances have calmed you down, and now you’re ready to talk to him.
“Staying for the night shift?” He asks.
“Just a few hours.” You say, then turn to him.
“Can we… talk?”
His hand finds yours, fingers slipping between yours. “Come on.”
He takes you to the rooftop, where it’s quieter and the chances of someone walking in is low. The rooftop was also where you and Jack managed to um… relieve some stress back then. It was a daring thing that you don’t think you can do again.
The breeze hits your face and you take a deep breath, following Jack to sit a few feet from the edge. He knows you hate dangling your feet, you once told him it’s very dangerous because “what if your leg falls off??”. It puts a smile on Jack’s face just remembering it.
Silence stretches between you, and you know you can’t delay it any longer.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack’s head snaps towards you, looking confused.
You continue anyway. “I saw the bet and my mind immediately assumed the worst. I guess it triggered an insecurity in me…”
“Honey—”
“No, I… I need to get this out,” You take a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers. “I hate that everyone knew you had a thing for Samira except me.” You admit. “It makes me feel stupid. Most of them were rooting for you to get together and I… I feel like I’m a replacement. Because you couldn’t get her.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. You feel like crying but it seems like your tears have dried out. “And I’m scared that you might leave me for her if she turned out to have reciprocated your feelings.”
Jack softens, scooting closer to you and taking your hands in his, kissing them dearly.
“You shouldn’t say sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry because I didn’t tell you. You’re not a replacement, sweetheart. You never were, you never will be. You're not someone I settled for because things didn't work out somewhere else.” He tilts his head, making sure you’re still with him.
“That crush was just… admiration. Purely surface level. I wasn’t interested in her that way.” Jack explains, “And I guess… knowing my staring problem, I probably wasn’t sublte and people started reading too much into it. And you know gossip here spread like wildfire.”
You press your lips together, nodding while you listen to him.
“But look,” Jack straightens, “I don’t want to downplay your feelings. They’re completely valid, okay? If you told me you had the same thing with… with Robby, I would’ve lost it. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He repeats. “You deserved to hear it from me first.”
You let out a breath of relief, nodding again and leaning your head on his shoulder.
Jack puts an arm around you, kissing your temple. “And as for Mohan, there is no scenario where I leave you for her. Or for anyone. You hear me?”
“Mm-hmm.” You hum.
“Thank you.” You say after a second, “for understanding. For apologizing. For accepting me. I love you.”
Jack tilts your head to look at him. “No thanks needed. I love you. I love every part of you.”
You smile at him, finally able to let go of the weight on your shoulders.
The silence that follows is different from before.
“I don’t think you were subtle with me either.” You say after a while, chuckling.
“Honey, we snogged the first day we met. We don’t do subtle.”
You groan, “My God. Who says snogged anymore?”
“This old guy.” Jack laughs. “Now come on. We should go down and talk to Robby before he leaves.”
You exhale, gathering the will to go back into the fray before getting up, then offering Jack your hand. “Alright gramps, let’s go.”
He snorts, shaking his head, but taking your hand anyway so you can help him up. “Don’t push your luck, sweetheart. You’re gonna be screaming this ‘gramps'’ name tonight.”
You gasp, “Ew! Jack! That sounds so creepy.”
“You started it.”
You’re both laughing as you make your way down through the elevator.
“Hey,” Jack calls your attention, smiling and sending you a knowing look. “Just you and me, alright?”
You smile back, “you and me.”
it's finally doneeeeeeeee ❤️ thank you for supporting me and I hope you guys like it 🥹 the pressure is fr fr
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x girlfriend!reader
Warnings: fighting, angst to fluff, pregnancy reveal, near death experience.
Summary: After an argument about Jack’s dangerous new hobby with the SWAT team, he walks out, leaving things shattered. Hours later, Jack realizes that the adrenaline he’s been chasing is nothing compared to the new reason to come back home after his shifts.
✨ based on this request ✨
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, his back a map of fresh bruises and the jagged edges of a new bandage peeking out from under his shirt.
"Just a hobby, Jack? Really?" Your voice was quiet, trembling with a mix of exhaustion and pure terror. "Most people take up woodworking. They bake bread. They don't volunteer to be the first one through a door in a tactical vest."
Jack didn't look at you. "My psychiatrist said I needed a way to channel the adrenaline. To feel useful outside the ER. I’m a veteran, doll. I’m trained for this."
"You were in a war zone because you had to be!" You finally snapped, the volume of your voice cracking the silence. "You spent years trying to crawl out of that hole, and now you’re jumping back into another one for fun? I spent six hours wondering if the man down on the news was you."
Jack stood up then, his movements stiff. The coldness in his eyes was worse than bruises. He wasn't the man who kissed you awake this morning.
"I don't need a keeper," he said, his voice flat. "I spent my entire life being told where to go and who to save. This is the first time out of ER that I’ve felt like I’m in control of the chaos. If you can’t handle that, that’s on you. Not me."
"Are you kidding me right now?" You let out a laugh. "You’re bleeding through your shirt, Jack! That isn't control, it's a death wish. You’re choosing the rush over us. You’re choosing the possibility of a funeral."
Jack grabbed his bag from the closet.
"Where are you going?" The panic finally broke through your anger, your heart hammering against your ribs. He still had three hours before his shift started.
"I can't do this," he muttered, swinging the bag over his shoulder. He winced as the strap hit the fresh wound on his shoulder, but he didn't slow down. "I can't come home to a trial every time I have a rough shift. I thought you, of all people, would understand wanting to mean something."
"You mean everything to me!" you screamed at his back as he moved toward the front door. "Is that not enough? Being loved isn't enough for you?"
"Apparently not," he said quietly. "I'm probably going to do a doble shift. Don't wait up for me."
The sound of the door clicking shut behind him was small, but it echoed through the empty hallway like a gunshot. You stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the lingering scent of his cologne and the discarded medical wrappers on the nightstand, waiting for the sound of him coming back.
-
"Abbot, take five," Dr. Shen muttered, catching him by the scrub sink. "You’re vibrating. And not in a good way. How's the bandage?"
Jack didn't look up from his hands, scrubbing until the skin was raw. "I’m fine. It’s just a long shift."
But he wasn't fine. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the way you had looked in the bedroom, the betrayal in your eyes, the way your voice had shattered when he walked out. He had chosen the rush and now the adrenaline had soured into a cold weight in his gut.
"Incoming trauma, Category Red. Single-vehicle MVA. Unresponsive female, massive hemorrhage, suspected femoral artery transection. ETA two minutes."
Jack was already moving toward the bay. When the paramedics burst through the doors, the sound of the gurney’s wheels was deafening.
"Vitals are crashing! We've got a tourniquet on the right thigh, but she’s lost too much. Pressure is 60 over palp—"
The paramedic stepped aside and his world stopped spinning.
It was your face. But it wasn't the face that had yelled at him hours ago. It was pale, waxen, framed by hair matted with blood. Your sweater, the one he’d complained about being too oversized, was shredded and soaked a deep crimson.
"Jack?" Parker's voice sounded like it was underwater. "Jack, step back. I’ve got this. Jack!"
"No," Jack whispered, then louder, his voice cracking with a desperate edge. "No! Get the O-neg! Now! I need a vascular kit!"
"Jack, you can't—"
"I said get the kit!" he roared, his hands hovering over your leg. He was a man watching his entire world leak out onto the floor.
The next hour was pure trauma and terror. He felt the hot spray of your blood on his face as he fought to clamp the artery. He was barking orders, his voice raw, refusing to let anyone else give up on you. When your heart monitor flatlined, his breath stopped.
"Starting compressions," he gasped, his palms over your sternum. One, two, three. "Don't you dare. Fuck, baby, don't you fucking dare."
"Jack, we have a pulse," a nurse called out after a minute, her voice trembling. "We have a rhythm. We need to go to the OR. Now."
He didn't leave your side. He had told you your love wasn't enough, and then he had walked out.
Hours later, you were a haunting sight on ICU. The rhythmic sound of the machines were the only thing keeping the silence at bay. Your leg was heavily bandaged, saved by a fraction of an inch and his own desperate hands.
Jack sat in the hard plastic chair by the bed. He reached out, his fingers hovering inches from your hand, afraid that if he touched you, you’d feel the coldness of the man who had abandoned you.
He thought about the fight, about the SWAT missions, about how he could be so selfish and dumb. It all felt like ash in his mouth. He had sought out danger for the sake of feeling alive, only to realize that life was sitting right here because she had been out looking for him or simply driving with a mind clouded by the grief he caused.
He leaned his forehead against the metal railing of the bed, a broken sob finally escaping his throat. "Please wake up, doll, I'm so sorry."
He stayed there in the dark, waiting for eyes that might never forgive him to open, realizing that he had saved your life but he had already destroyed your heart.
When your eyelids finally fluttered open, you were confused. You weren't on your bedroom. This wasn't your bed. You tried to shift but your right leg felt like it was encased in lead. A hand, warm but trembling, immediately folded over yours.
"Hey, try not to move. You're going to rip out your stitches."
"Jack?" Your voice was raspy. The memories started to bleed back in: the argument, the slamming door, the rain slicked road, his keys. "The... the keys. You left the house keys. I was coming to..."
Jack let out a broken sob, half-laugh. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. "The keys? Doll, you shouldn't have driven in the middle of the storm, you could have sent me a message."
"I didn't want you to be locked out, you know I'm a deep sleeper," you whispered, the anger from earlier completely drained. "I was mad, Jack. But I wanted to make sure you came back home."
He looked up then and the sight of him broke your heart. His eyes were bloodshot. "I’m the one who shouldn't have left. I was chasing a feeling because I was too arrogant to realize I already had everything I needed at home. I was wrong." He squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles. "I've thinking about it all night. I’m done with SWAT."
"You finally realized being loved is enough?" you asked softly.
"That's one reason," Jack said, a strange light appearing in his eyes. "But there’s another. We found something during the scans. I- I think you didn't know. You're pregnant, doll."
---------------------------------
The trauma bay was a battlefield. Jack had just finished the primary repair on your femoral artery, his hands slick with the blood of the woman he loved. He was panting as the nurses began to stabilize your vitals for the move to the OR.
"Abbot," Shen said, his voice sharp but confused as he stared at the ultrasound monitor they’d used for a quick abdominal check. "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"
Jack whirled around, his heart in his throat, expecting to hear that your lungs were collapsing or your spleen had ruptured. "Tell you what? Is there internal bleeding?"
Shen pointed to the screen, to a tiny pulse that had absolutely nothing to do with your own heartbeat. "The pregnancy, Abbot. She may be seven weeks along. We need to adjust the meds for the OR."
Jack felt the floor tilt. The world narrowed down to that one rhythmic flicker on the screen. A baby. He had walked out on a family he didn't even know he had started. And suddenly, his hobby felt like a childish whim.
---------------------------------
You stared at him, your breath hitching as the realization settled in. Your hand instinctively moved toward your stomach, though it was blocked by the hospital gown and blankets.
"W-What? I’m... we're...?"
"Yeah," Jack whispered, his voice thick with emotions. "Seven weeks, according to the scans. A little heartbeat. Strong as anything."
"Oh..." was all you could manage. It was a soft sound of pure shock. Your hand, still shaky, instinctively drifted downward, coming to rest over the flat expanse of your stomach beneath the hospital blankets. You tried to process the miracle that a tiny life inside had survived the chaos of the last few hours.
Seeing your hand tremble, Jack reached out. He cupped his palm directly over yours, shielding it, pressing the weight of his love through the layers of fabric.
It was the first time since he’d walked out of the apartment that the tension truly left his frame.
He leaned down, pressing a long, lingering kiss to the back of your hand, right over the spot where a new life was forming.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and steady. "No more SWAT, no more looking for trouble. I've got everything I need to protect right here in this room."
You looked down at his dark hair, then at your joined hands over your middle and emotional happy tears appeared in your eyes.
"You're going to have to learn how to bake bread after all, baby," you whispered with a tiny smile.
"I will, huh?" He let out a laugh, his hand refusing to let go. "I’ll learn whatever it needs. Just as long as I’m doing it with you. Well, the two of you."
Imagine a Dick Grayson x reader where Bruce accidentally walks in on them
YES, MY LOVE? ( Dick grayson! )
summary: Dick has a broken leg, a beautiful girlfriend, and a nice bed in a house where no one is around, so why shouldn't he enjoy his moment in the spotlight?
pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
cw: smut ( p in v), get caught.
open request - Dick masterlist
The manor was completely silent. Everything was wrapped in soft shadows, with the moon filtering through the hallway's enormous windows and the night breeze caressing the heavy curtains.
You'd received a message from Dick during the day asking you to come to the mansion to keep him company while he rested. He was tired of sitting alone, staring at the ceiling, counting nonexistent cracks, and complaining about "the sad temporary death of his nightlife." So why would you say no to your poor boyfriend with a broken leg?
You crossed the entrance without making a sound, went straight up to his room, and when you opened the door you found him lying on the bed, with an open book on his chest, the cast resting on several pillows and the face of a dramatic martyr.
"As far as I can see, you're alive, darling. How lucky you are." You said from the doorway, taking off your jacket.
"Barely. You don't know what it was like to watch three documentaries in a row about antique furniture restoration. I'm about to ask Alfred if I can rearrange the bookcase by color."
You approached, giggling, and carefully climbed onto the bed, lying down beside him. "So you need me to keep you from leaving your life as a security guard and becoming a decorator?"
"Exactly. My righteous soul is in danger," he replied, turning slightly toward you with that soft smile that seemed innocent as he rested his head on your chest. "And besides... I missed you."
You stroked his jaw, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if that simple gesture was what he truly needed to heal. Your lips found his in a slow, leisurely kiss, until you felt his hands clutch your waist with a mischievous smile until you pulled away. "I missed you too, Dickie."
He groaned faintly, as if hearing that nickname weakened him more than any wound on the battlefield. "Don't call me that if you're not going to stay all night," he said, hiding his smile in your collarbone, his voice vibrating against your skin.
"I have to go to college tomorrow" you sighed, your fingers playing with his hair.
Dick pulled away just to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly and his expression a mixture of Greek tragedy and subtle emotional blackmail.
"You can skip it. For a noble cause. You can say your boyfriend is slowly dying of boredom and needs constant company to survive."
You laughed softly as he gently pulled you towards him again, cradling you against his chest. "You're very persuasive for someone who's immobilized in one leg."
“I’m using the only thing I have left: my charm,” he replied in a deep voice, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t leave me tonight, i beg you, im young, vulnerable and horny”
You rolled your eyes, but clung to him with the same need. Dick had that dangerous ability to persuade; the way he touched you made you dizzy, the way each touch felt as natural as breathing. At some point, between laughter, soft kisses, and wordless promises, you both ended up under the sheets, sharing the warmth of a moment that seemed eternal. You couldn't help but think the force he used while he tried to move with his leg in a cast was ridiculous, but even that was adorable in its clumsiness. And you couldn't help but help him settle in while he gently pulled you on top of him, as if nothing could hurt him more tonight than the distance between you.
"Dick, are you sure there's no one here?"
"Trust me," he replied with absolute certainty, running a hand down your back. "We have the mansion to ourselves. It's a blessing from the universe. As if Gotham were saying: Today, Dickie, today is your turn to be happy."
You kissed him again, deeper this time. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he caressed your waist, his breathing mingling with yours. Your legs were on either side of his hips, the heat between you slowly rising like a tide. His hands, firm but gentle, gripped your waist, slowly guiding you to continue grinding his clothed cock, which you could feel growing at the friction of your panties.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky from the closeness, while his fingers went up just below your shirt, trying to remove it and let him see your songs moving to your rhythm.
Your smile curved at the sight of him so exhausted. You slowly lowered your torso until his lips found yours again. The kiss was hungrier, deeper. Your hands moved up to his already ready cock, feeling his muscles tense beneath your fingers.
"You're killing me," he murmured through gritted teeth, his smile barely trembling as he felt his cock sink into your wetness. "What a beautiful way to die."
"sure no one's there, right?" you whispered against his ear, a playful smile on your lips. "I don't want them to see me riding on your cock."
"I told you..." Dick whispered, smiling against your neck as he held you against him, not wanting you to move yet, both of you in his bed, sharing the warmth under the sheets. "No one's home. Alfred's in the cave, and Bruce left tonight. He never comes around."
His lips moved down your collarbone, and you chuckled, stroking his messy hair. His leg was in a cast, yes, but that hadn't stopped him from moving his hips toward you with that signature "I've been through worse, this isn't going to slow me down" look.
His hips found a rhythm of their own, slow but determined, grinding against you with clear purpose. That smile of his settled on his face.
"Look, I'm hurt, huh?" he murmured against your skin. "You could show me some mercy."
"More mercy than this?" you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly, your voice barely trembling from everything you were feeling. "I'm riding you with my tits in your face. I can't do much more..."
Dick's laugh was drowned in a deep sigh. His fingers gripped your waist tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself to you so he wouldn't lose his mind.
The room, once silent save for broken whispers, was now filled with rapid breathing, wet thuds, and the creaking of the bed as the heat grew between you. It was a moment suspended in time, so intimate that it hurt to think it might end soon.
Dick's lips found yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, while his body, still limited, surrendered completely to what you allowed him to do. "Keep squeezing my cock baby, I'm gonna cum, shit," he murmured, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours.
Your hips began to move with more urgency, as if each touch sought to satisfy all the pent up needs of all those days of waiting. Dick looked at you as if you were all he needed to stay whole, as if the pain in his leg were just background noise compared to the comfort of having you like this, so close, so devoted. His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, but they didn't stop clinging to you, guiding you, seeking more of that connection that seemed to envelop them completely.
"Don't stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse, against your neck. "Please... don't stop."
"Dick, are you awake?" Bruce's deep voice cut off abruptly.
Both of you froze in that instant even though you had both had the best orgasm since you started dating, still feeling his thick threads of cum filling your soaked pussy, your first reaction was to cover yourself with the sheet up to your head, leaving Dick with his head resting against your chest, letting out an exhausted grunt.
Bruce didn't move for a couple of long seconds. "...You should be resting," he said at last, in that serious, dry tone he used when he was suppressing the urge to lecture.
"I was resting," Dick replied without lifting his head from your breasts, still hidden in the sheets.
"And no lock on the door."
"Whose fault is that?"
Bruce took a deep breath through his nose, as if he were doing mental yoga to keep from setting the mansion on fire. "Finish ruining the bed," he said, turning toward the hallway. "But we'll talk tomorrow."
Clic.
The door closed firmly.
Silence.
Dick stood there, leaning against you, completely motionless.
Plastic eggs in every shade of pink, lavender, yellow and mint green peeked from behind rose bushes, nestled in the crook of tree branches, half hidden beneath the garden bench.
Your daughter darted across the fresh spring grass in her Easter dress, her basket swinging wildly as she spotted another egg behind the hydrangeas.
"SEVENTEEN!" she shrieked, holding it up proudly before shoving it into her collection before sprinting toward another.
And there, standing beside you on the back porch with his arms crossed and a look of barely concealed suffering on his face, was the most feared being to ever walk the earth, your terrifying husband, Ryomen Sukuna.
Wearing a pair of fuzzy pink bunny ears.
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it.
Then another.
You'd slipped them onto his head while he was distracted watching his daughter nearly faceplant into the koi pond, and the look he gave you when he realized what you'd done could have curdled milk.
"Are you finished, woman?" he asked, voice flat.
"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-" You wheezed, trying to catch your breath, 'It's just- you look so-"
"Choose your next words very carefully."
"-cute."
Big and scary and covered in tattoos and wearing BUNNY EARS-
Another laugh bubbled up, and his eyes narrowed.
Cute, he thought, jaw ticking. She calls me cute. The woman has a death wish.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, something warm curled in his chest at the sound of your laughter- bright and unguarded, the kind of joy he'd spent his whole life convinced he'd never inspire in anyone.
"That so?"
In one fluid motion, he plucked the ears off his head. You expected him to crush them, maybe toss them into the yard, but instead-
"Think they'd look much better on you."
The ears settled onto your head before you could protest, and suddenly Sukuna's hands were on your hips, pulling you against him until your back pressed against his chest. The hard line of his cock -already half interested, the bastard- ground against the curve of your ass through your sundress.
"There we go," he purred against your ear, and god, you could hear the smirk in his voice, "my pretty little rabbit."
"Sukuna-" You glanced toward the yard where your daughter was currently trying to climb into a bush after a particularly well hidden egg, "she's right there-"
"She's busy." His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, and you shivered despite the warm spring air, "And you know what happens to little rabbits who tease wolves?"
His hand found the hem of your sundress. Fingers brushing your bare thigh -feather light, teasing- before sliding upward with agonizing slowness. The fabric bunched as he went, inching higher, higher, until his palm was dangerously close to the thin cotton of your panties.
Easter fucking Sunday, he thought, thumb tracing circles on your inner thigh, and she's out here looking like a goddamn snack. Sundress. Bare legs. Those stupid cute ears. How's a man supposed to behave?
"Wolves eat them right up," he finished, voice dropping to that low rasp that always made your knees weak.
You could feel his lips hovering just above your neck- so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the promise of his tongue-
"DADDY! DADDY, LOOK!"
Your daughter came barreling across the lawn, basket bouncing, face flushed with excitement-
And then her foot caught on absolutely nothing.
She went down hard, knees hitting grass, basket tumbling, eggs scattering across the lawn.
Sukuna's eye twitched.
His hand was already off your thigh, body tensing to move-
But before he could take a single step, she popped back up like a spring loaded jack-in-the-box, grass stains on her knees and a golden egg clutched in both hands.
"I'M OKAY!" She barreled up the porch steps like she hadn't just eaten dirt two seconds ago.
Sukuna froze mid motion...
This fucking kid, he thought, eye still twitching, is going to give me a heart attack before she's ten. Takes after her mother. Reckless. Clumsy. Absolutely no self preservation instincts-
"Look what I found!" She held up the large golden egg like it was the Holy Grail, completely unbothered by her spectacular wipeout. "It's the SPECIAL one! The big gold one! It was hidden in the birdhouse and I almost didn't see it but then the sun made it all shiny and-" She paused, tilting her head at you. "Mommy, why are you wearing bunny ears?"
Sukuna's chest rumbled with silent laughter against your back, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders now that his little disaster child was upright and unharmed.
"Because," he said smoothly, finally releasing you and crouching down to his daughter's level, "Mommy's my little rabbit. And do you know what Daddy is?"
She scrunched her nose, thinking hard, "...The Easter Bunny?"
"The big bad wolf." He bared his teeth in a grin that made her giggle instead of flinch- because to her, he was just Daddy, not a monster, not a curse, just the man who scared the monsters and hid golden eggs in birdhouses and carried her on his shoulders when her legs got tired.
"Wolves don't go with Easter, Daddy." She rolled her eyes with all the exasperated wisdom of a six year old.
"You should be a bunny too." She thrust the golden egg into his hands and turned to sprint back into the yard, "I'm gonna find ALL of them before the timer goes off! WATCH ME!"
"Oi!" Sukuna barked, straightening up, "Slow the fuck down before you-"
"I'm NOT gonna trip again, Daddy!"
She made it exactly three steps before her foot caught on the edge of the garden border.
Down she went. Again. Basket flying. Eggs scattering. A spectacular faceplant into the soft grass right beside the birdbath.
Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose.
Definitely takes after her mother.
"I'M OKAY!" She scrambled up, snatched her basket, and kept running like nothing happened, "THAT ONE DOESN'T COUNT!"
You pressed your lips together, trying desperately not to laugh at the long suffering expression on your husband's face.
"She's fiiiiine," you offered.
"She's a goddamn disaster." But there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion. And underneath that -buried deep where he thought you couldn't see it- pure, helpless adoration.
He turned back to you, "Tonight," he said, reaching out to adjust one of your bunny ears, "when the brats asleep... I'm gonna eat you alive."
"is that a threat?"
"That's a fucking guarantee." He pressed a quick, hard kiss to your mouth -there and gone- then turned toward the yard with a grunt, already moving to shadow his disaster of a daughter before she could break an ankle.
You watched him go, heart still racing, thighs still tingling from where his hand had been.
Across the yard, your daughter grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the fence to help her reach an egg that was "definitely too high up and you're tall so you HAVE to get it Daddy, it's the rules."
He let her.
Let this tiny human boss him around like she owned him- because in a way, she did. You both did.
Reader is ── Gender Neutral | Cleaner/Raider respectively
Story is ── Romantic | Headcanons
Warnings ── N/A
August
✦ ── August gifts you so much stuff it's hard to keep track, though more often than not it's clothes. You find the knitting needles yourself in his workshop, and when you mention wanting to try knitting, he shows you how and encourages you to keep them!
✦ ── He tried knitting, but it required too much patience and was far too easy to fuck up, so they were just gathering dust anyways. Seeing you knit in your little corner of his workshop brings him joy, too!
✦ ── Even when you're off on missions as a supporter, you bring them along to work on your project during the long drives or stops between locations.
✦ ── That's why, when your team is outnumbered and you're moments from being trash beast food, you have them on you. Suddenly the little needles are giant pins that skewer the trash beast like a knife through butter.
✦ ── Oh yeah, that's so fucking badass! Now August is begging to see them in action, even if it's dangerous! He wants to see you put those needles to work, babe!
"DO YOU LOVE THEM MORE THAN ME!?" He was clinging to your waist, wide eyes staring down at you through orange lenses.
Despite his accusation, he had a large grin on his face.
"Of course not, Auggie! I love them so much because you gave them to me!" Your hands were waving frantically, playing along with him.
"I know! Just wanted to hear you say it!" The low chuckle he gave was unlike his usual boisterous laugh; it would have been alarming if it weren't coming from August.
"THIS MEANS I GET TO MAKE YOU A GIVER UNIFORM! WOO!!"
Eishia
✦ ── It was an old tool of hers, a simple stethoscope that was a little worse for wear. She had just gotten a new upgraded one, and she knew you had fun playing with it, so she gifted you her old one!
✦ ── Eishia knows you best, because you're always using it on anyone who lets you (mostly her) or on random surfaces to see what it'd pick up.
✦ ── It becomes pretty commonplace to see you wearing it, which warms her heart. She's glad you put the old thing to good use, even for silly purposes.
✦ ── During one mission you get separated from the rest when a Raider attacks. It's life or death when they rip your stethoscope away from you. It just so happens the chestpiece makes contact with their skin.
✦ ── Suddenly you can hear everything they're thinking and feeling and how their body is reacting. You're able to discern their instrument's weak point from their thoughts and use it to beat them.
"My gift...saved your life?" After you'd been healed from minor injuries, she'd taken the time to listen to what happened.
"Yeah! I was moments from being killed, and then boom! All these thoughts flooded me. So, thank you, Eishia!" Your hands were holding one of hers, keeping it close to your chest.
She was still staring at the stethoscope around your neck.
"I really didn't do anything. It was just a little gift..." Her stammering took over as she lowered her voice. "...but I'm really glad it helped you."
Enjin
✦ ── It was a stupid joke, is what it was. He got you a stopwatch because you were the slowest runner on Akuta and wanted to 'fuel your rage' during your training runs.
✦ ── It worked, albeit a bit too well. You used it all the time and maintained the habit of trying to break your own speed record. He'd always be there to cheer you on and watch as you steadily beat his own speed.
✦ ── One day the two of you go for a run around town, except halfway across the street a car comes barreling towards you and Enjin.
✦ ── One second he's bracing for impact, and the next he's safely on the sidewalk without having moved a muscle. You're clearly out of breath, but your eyes are glowing, and so is the stopwatch.
✦ ── Absolutely baffled at the absurdity of it. People spend their whole life trying to become a giver, and you did it with one gag gift and a shitty driver. Yeah, you're fucking amazing!
"FOR REAL!?" The walk back to HQ is filled with his baffled shouts and your laughing.
"I mean, I guess it makes sense. I've been taking good care of this lil guy." You were looking at the stopwatch again, which seemed to be able to slow down time.
You'd have to test it out some more before you knew exactly what it did.
"Damn, I should start gifting shit to more people. Cleaners could always use more givers." If only it were that easy.
Follo
✦ ── When he and the others head to town to get artificial flowers for Zanka, Follo gets the bright idea to buy you a bouquet for your date later that night.
✦ ── It's full of your favourite flowers, colours, and foliage that support the entire aesthetic. The stems are neatly tied with a ribbon, and they'll never die since they're fake!
✦ ── He's super happy you cherish them, to the point where you always wear at least one of the flowers in your hair or somewhere on your person.
✦ ── One day while the two of you are out on a mission, supporting the combatants, a trash beast gets way too close to trampling Follo.
✦ ── The flower you're wearing comes to life in a blur of panic. Suddenly the trash beast is completely ensnared in reinforced artificial vines until it's crushed to death.
"Your flowers? The ones I gave you?!" The post-fight rush is long over, and suddenly Follo is all over you, making sure you're uninjured.
Ironic, given he was the one in danger.
"Yeah! I guess I loved them a little too much, huh?" Follo was inspecting the flower you twirled between your fingers.
"That's so...so...gah!" He pulled you into his arms, mostly so he could hide the tears welling up in his eyes. Wanting to be a giver was one thing, but knowing he helped you become one was already an honour.
Jabber
✦ ── You were like...an honorary Raider. Being a non-giver, you mostly just helped Jabber with whatever missions he had when possible.
✦ ── Of course you couldn't go on all of them, which meant you were alone a lot. Jabber didn't like that, so he brought you the first weapon he could find: an axe!
✦ ── You, alone, bored, and an axe? Well, you may as well practice with it! And so you hone your skills at fighting with an axe, testing it on makeshift piles of trash and drawn targets.
✦ ── It's when some trafficker finds you alone that you first bother to use it against anyone. He gets the jump on you, but it's only moments before you've chopped the guy's hand off.
✦ ── Except your axe is blazing hot, and it cauterizes immediately. He won't bleed out, so you restrain him for the Raiders to do as they please later.
"Damn! That was totally nasty!" Jabber stuck his tongue out to accentuate his 'disgust' at how you'd pretty much tortured the guy.
"It's not like I knew it'd do that!" You gave an exasperated sigh, still clutching the axe you'd used hours prior.
"You should have known! You're obsessed with me and any gift I give you, right? Of course you'd become a giver!"
"I don't think that's how it works..." You weren't certain he was listening.
"We're a perfect little torture duo, though, don't you think? Non-lethal poison and non-lethal limb detachment." For whatever depraved reason, the thought brought a blush to his cheeks.
Rudo
✦ ── It was just something he'd found in one of the no man's lands, a little trinket he'd repaired and cleaned up because he thought you'd like it: a skateboard.
✦ ── You were always talking about how bored you were at base when you were done with front stuff, so why not give you a hobby to try? And it seemed to work!
✦ ── In fact, it became your main hobby. He would always go for small trips with you to find abandoned buildings, taking the time to build ramps and obstacles with you.
✦ ── When he's away on missions, you like to visit the little ramp parks on your own. Only, this time there's a horde of smaller trash beasts there.
✦ ── Usually your skateboard wouldn't work so well on the uneven soil, making the quickest path out of there, but suddenly your skateboard is levitating, and wheels simply don't matter!
"This isn't a joke, right?" Rudo was side-eyeing the skateboard currently leaning against the wall. He'd just gotten back and was filled in on your encounter.
"Dead serious! Thank you, Rudo!" Your hug caught him off guard, though he eventually managed to offer it right back.
"Huh? Thank me? Why?" His pale face is now a burning crimson.
"I was saved because of your gift, and it's special to me because you fixed it up for me! So, thank you!"
Semiu
✦ ── Since you're always sitting by her desk during your free time, she gifted you a nice Rubik's cube to keep your hands busy and away from messing with her paperwork.
✦ ── Now you're crazy fast with it! You ask other cleaners to scramble it for you, and you can solve it in under thirty seconds. You're distracted, and Semiu gets your company while she works.
✦ ── One day some no-good lowly group decides to try and infiltrate cleaner HQ through the back exit tunnels. Naturally you follow Semiu because you want to see her badass fight!
✦ ── There you are, mindlessly toying with your Rubik's cube, when you overhear one of them call her all sorts of obscenities. No weapon has been drawn, the fight hasn't even started, and suddenly the whole tunnel is upside down.
✦ ── You're furious, cussing them out and twisting the Rubik's cube. Every time you turn it, the gravity in the tunnel shifts, which Semiu has no trouble adjusting to. The criminals, however, fall without grace countless times.
"Seriously? I didn't think you liked that little toy so much."
"I like it because of you, Semiu. You gifted it to me, and it allows me to spend more time with you." Of course she knew that already, but she enjoyed hearing it come from you directly.
"That's plain adorable, babe." Seeing you enjoy a gift so much to the point of awakening as a giver was both an honour and a huge addition to her ego.
Tamsy
✦ ── It was an innocent gift. He got roller skates to try them out; you showed interest, so he thought you might use them more than him. He even goes out of his way to help you get used to wearing them!
✦ ── The laces were also replaced with some of Tokushin's yarn, since the originals had rotted. Overall, the personal touches he provides in fixing them up for you make it extra sweet.
✦ ── It's one evening when you're minding your own business, roller skating along the nearby town's sidewalks while Tamsy walks alongside you, that someone is crossing the road and fails to notice a car moments from hitting them.
✦ ── You're far, impossibly far, and yet your feet carry you faster than what should have been possible. You've swooped the person out of the way just in time to miss the car.
✦ ── Amazed? Of course! Impressed? Absolutely! Smitten? Of course he is; what an absolute ego boost that you became a giver thanks to his kindness.
"Rollerskates, hm? My distaff is much cooler." He was already teasing you on the walk back.
Walk, yes, because you now clutch the skates in your arms. Adrenaline is still racing from the ordeal and you're terrified you'll accidentally activate them again.
"Is teasing your way at getting me to calm down?" You looked up from the sidewalk to eye him.
"It's working, isn't it?" Of course it was, but you'd never tell him that. He was already too cocky, knowing your instrument was his gift.
Tomme
✦ ── Since you and Tomme were both supporters, you got split up a lot. That meant she always wanted to hear about what kind of trash beasts you saw during your missions so she could write about them!
✦ ── Of course, you're busy fighting for your life, and she understands you can't always be taking notes. So she gifts you a camera and requests you try to take photos of them instead—when convenient—so she can add them to her journal that way!
✦ ── And you seem to really enjoy taking photos. You take great care of the camera and are always sure to bring back something for her. It's during one encounter that you nearly die to the very trash beast you're taking a photo of, when it turns out a little...different.
✦ ── The photo has a looping animation, and it already has a caption in your handwriting detailing the encounter!
✦ ── Tomme thinks it's a super badass power and is crazy excited to use some of these special polaroids in her journal. But she is also moments from smacking you over the head for endangering your life!
"I still can't believe you'd risk your life for my hobby, though." She's shaking her head, which now rests in her hands.
"But the shot turned out great, and now I'm a giver! That's a double win." Regardless of your confidence, your smile is still sheepish.
Tomme lifts her head, using a free hand to flick your forehead.
"Don't risk your life, no matter how cool it may seem!"
Zanka
✦ ── Gifts were rare from him. He was more of an experience person who wanted to spend time with you. When he does give you a gift, it's something extremely well thought out.
✦ ── Such as the little music box with a dancing ballerina in it. It was purchased from a collector and a vintage find. Not only that, but the song it played was a lullaby he heard you hum countless times.
✦ ── Whenever you struggled to rest or anxieties came to haunt you, you'd pull out the little box and watch the ballerina 'dance' to the little tune. It was great for when he was away, too.
✦ ── During one of your missions, you and a few supporters are cornered by two Raiders. Without any combatants you're no match, and it isn't long before most of you are injured or bleeding out.
✦ ── Your music box falls out of your pocket and opens, and once the little melody starts playing, both the Raiders fall completely limp to the floor.
"I'm just glad you're okay." Zanka is sitting on the side of your hospital bed, having stayed by your side since Akuta found you and the other supporters.
"It's thanks to you, really. Your sweet gift saved me." Your hand was intertwined with his; the music box sat on the side table where you could give it a glance.
"You're the one who used its potential, not me. But..." Zanka was avoiding eye contact, though you could see a blush peeking through the hair obscuring his face.
"I'm glad it means that much to you."
Author's Note ── I actually got this as a request, but it was only for Zanka/Tamsy, and they asked for a oneshot (which I don't do upon request), so I just had fun with it since the prompt was so fun!
synopsis: you can’t shake the sharp sting of jealousy when you catch your boyfriend, steve, engrossed in conversation with his ex, nancy wheeler.
warnings: anxiety, jealousy, emotional intensity, over thinking, retroactive jealousy, mild sexual jokes, strong language, trauma references, romantic tension.
word count: 2.8k
There should be many things occupying your mind right now.
Truly important things. Life or death details that deserve all of your focus as you stand inside WSQK, the old Hawkins radio station that has quietly become the heart of every plan for the crawl.
Maps cling to the walls like a second skin. Radios pulse with a low, steady charge along the tables. Flashlights rest in perfect rows, each one waiting for a hand to claim it.
The whole place hums with a nervous energy that settles at the base of your spine, a reminder that tonight is the hinge on which everything turns.
You should be thinking about the crawl itself and the way every step must fall into place if there is any hope of proving that Vecna is truly gone.
You should be reviewing your role in the plan, the position that keeps you beside Mike and Lucas as the assigned lookout for Hopper while he slips through the burn distraction and descends into the Upside Down.
Hopper is risking everything by entering the perimeter alone, and you are supposed to be watching the dark behind him for the slightest sign of movement.
Those are the thoughts that should be filling your head. Serious thoughts. Necessary ones.
But they do not.
Your mind is not on the maps or the radios or the tight pull of tension running through the room. It is not on the creature hiding beneath the crawl’s design, or the danger waiting on the other side of the gate.
Instead, your attention keeps drifting to something far less important and somehow far more distracting.
The only movement you can focus on is your boyfriend standing a little too close to his ex.
Steve stands at one of the central tables, rolling his sleeves to his elbows while Nancy points out a small circled note on the map.
The two of them speak quietly, too close, their heads bent over the same sheet of paper. There is space everywhere in this warehouse, yet they somehow occupy inches between them. Nancy gestures again, and Steve nods along, hair falling slightly over his forehead.
It should not bother you. It really should not.
Nancy is with Jonathan. Steve is with you. These are facts. Clear, simple facts that should repel every insecure thought pressing against your ribs.
But the truth is far more complicated.
Nancy Wheeler carries a presence that is difficult to ignore. She is intelligent, steady, and unflinching in moments when most people would fall apart. There is a quiet precision to the way she moves, as if her instincts have been trained by years of surviving things no teenager should survive. The light catches in her hair, and her expression stays calm even while the room pulses with nerves. She looks like she belongs here, in this place built on tension and fear, as though belonging is something she learned to master long ago.
And she and Steve share years you were never part of. Years shaped in the aftermath of breakups, reconciliations, monsters, and late-night plans that forged a bond no outsider can fully understand.
So when Steve leans over the map, jaw set, eyes bright with that familiar focus he gets before a fight, something shifts inside you.
A small, unwelcome drop in your stomach. A reminder that no matter how firmly you hold someone’s hand, there are parts of their history you can never touch. Jealousy is a quiet creature;; It slips in without your permission.
You try to focus. You try to breathe. You try to tell yourself there are bigger things at stake tonight than the way Nancy leans in or the way Steve’s mouth curves when he agrees with her assessment.
But the thoughts creep in anyway.
Thoughts you cannot block out, no matter how hard you try.
Thoughts that whisper you are not enough and never will be.
Thoughts that ask why Steve looks so alive when talking to her.
You swallow hard, fingers curling around the strap of your bag. Voices blur around you as Dustin argues about radio channels with Robin and Jonathan sets down another crate of gear. Everything is moving, and yet you feel painfully still, like your insecurity has frozen you in place.
Nancy notices you before Steve does.
Her eyes lift, quick and precise, the way they do when she is already three steps ahead of the room. She gives a small nod in greeting and shifts the map closer to you.
“You made it,” Nancy says, her tone focused but not unkind. “We were just finishing up coverage. You’ll be with Mike and Lucas tonight. Hopper wants eyes on the east access hall while he goes in.”
You shake yourself out of your spiraling thoughts and bring your attention back to the map. “Yeah. I’m here,” you answer, steadying your voice. “Just tell me where you need me.”
Robin waves from the corner, leaning against the table stacked with radios. “Finally. We were just debating who should take the binoculars tonight.”
Mike groans. “It’s not a debate. Someone has to watch the corridor, and I can do it.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you’re slow. Lucas sees better. He should have them.”
Lucas crosses his arms. “Hey, I’m not that much better—”
Robin spots you glancing up and tilts her head. “Actually, Y/N should take them. You’ve got the eyes for this, not Mike.”
You give a small smile. “Alright. I’ll take them.”
Then Steve finally turns.
It is almost comical how fast his expression changes. One moment he is squinting at the map. The next, it is like someone switched a light on inside him. His whole face softens, the kind of warmth that makes the edges of everything else blur.
“There you are!” he says, as if you’d been gone for hours instead of minutes.
He crosses the room in a few long strides, weaving around Dustin’s equipment pile without hesitation. When he reaches you, his hands settle gently on your waist, thumbs brushing lightly over the small of your back. He draws you close, and you feel the familiar press of his chest against yours, solid and steady, the kind of hug that grounds you without a word.
He leans down just enough to press a soft kiss to your hairline. “Hey. You okay?” His voice is low and careful, carrying the weight of concern in a way that makes your chest feel too full. “Rough day?”
You nod, even though that is not quite the truth. “I’m fine.”
Steve pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Yeah? You sure?”
You push a small smile onto your face. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He watches you for a second longer, like he knows something is off but will not push it here in front of everyone. His thumb brushes once against your hip before he steps back.
Behind him, Dustin clears his throat. “Uh, Harrington, six sharp. You and her better not show up late, man.”
Steve shoots him a look and bumps his shoulder up. “Relax, Henderson. We will be here.”
“Six exactly,” Nancy adds. She taps the map again. “We cannot afford timing mistakes tonight.”
“Got it,” Steve says. His hand finds yours without him even looking, like muscle memory, like instinct. “We’ll see you all then.”
Robin salutes with two fingers. “Do not die!”
Lucas mutters, “Seriously, please don’t.”
You squeeze Steve’s hand as he guides you toward the exit, everyone returning to their tasks behind you.
The cool air outside the Square hits your face the moment you step out, a soft bite of Hawkins wind that makes your lungs feel a little fuller. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, solid and steady, and he lifts his free arm to wave back at Robin through the doorway.
“See you later!” she calls, already ducking back into the chaos.
Steve squeezes your fingers once, gentle but certain. “Alright, sweetheart. Come on.”
You follow him toward his car, the familiar rattle of his keys and the soft thud of his sneakers grounding you more than you want to admit. He reaches the passenger door first and pulls it open for you like he always does, a habit that never faded from him no matter how much everything else in your lives changed.
You climb in, settling into the seat that smells faintly like pine-scent napkins and whatever cologne he pretends he does not use. He shuts the door carefully before jogging around the front, sliding into the driver’s side with a small exhale.
The engine hums to life, headlights cutting through the dull late-afternoon glow. As the car pulls away from tge curb, Steve’s hand drifts to the center console, fingers brushing your knee before settling there with casual familiarity.
“So,” he starts, glancing at you briefly before watching the road again. “You’re with Mike and Lucas tonight. Hopper wants you guys covering the rooftop near the military checkpoint.”
You nod. “Yeah. Nancy told me.”
“I know,” Steve says, and there’s a softness in his voice that he cannot hide, even when talking strategy. “But I want you to be careful up there.”
You smile a little. “Steve, I’ve done this almost a hundred times.”
“Still.” He gives a small laugh. “You know how it is. Every crawl gets worse, and Hopper’s plan tonight is insane. And that rooftop has, like, the worst visibility ever. Wind, dust, those busted spotlights. Anything can go wrong, and I can’t have you getting hurt.”
You huff a quiet laugh, because that part is true. “I’ll manage.”
“I know you will,” he says. Then, softer, “But I can’t turn this part of my brain off, alright? The worrying part. I see you out there with Mike and Lucas and my stomach does this… thing.”
He gestures vaguely, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “I don’t love it. Not when it comes to you.”
Your chest warms, but only for a moment. The quiet returns, the heavy kind that feels like it’s pressing something down instead of letting something breathe.
Steve notices.
He glances at you again, longer this time. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
His voice is gentle, not probing, just concerned. It makes the ache in your chest twist tighter.
You swallow, fingers curling faintly against your thigh. “Steve… can I ask you something?”
He nods immediately. “Yeah. Anything.”
You hesitate, watching the blur of Hawkins pass outside the window, all cracked pavement and rusted street signs and the faint hum of a world still pretending it is normal.
Your voice comes out softer than you intend. “Do you… still have feelings for Nancy?”
Steve’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, not dramatically, just enough for you to notice. Just enough to show he heard you clearly, and just enough to make your heart thud against your ribs.
The silence stretches for a beat.
Then another.
And in that space, your thoughts start to spiral, tiny sparks igniting into a tangled web you can’t untangle.
Maybe he does. Maybe he still cares about her more than you think. Maybe all this time, you’ve been fooling yourself, reading warmth where there is habit, taking comfort where there is convenience.
Maybe you are just the temporary girl, the placeholder he holds close until something—or someone—else feels like home.
Maybe standing here, beside Nancy, you really do look smaller, like a shadow someone could step over without noticing. Maybe he doesn’t even see you the way you hope he does. Maybe—
Steve exhales, shaky and disbelieving, pulling his gaze from the road long enough to actually look at you.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, the word tender but heavy with something else. “Where did that come from?”
The question still hangs in the air when your voice breaks. You try to blink it back, try to breathe deeply, try to pretend the sting in your eyes is nothing, but your throat tightens and the first tear escapes before you can stop it.
Steve sees it instantly.
“Hey…hey, hey,” he murmurs, worry flooding his voice in an instant. He looks between you and the road, jaw tightening with decision. Then he eases the car toward the side of the street and pulls over.
The engine stays running, but the rest of the world seems to fall still.
He turns to you fully. His hands come up, palms open, ready to hold your face or your hands or whatever part of you you will allow him to touch.
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “what’s wrong? Talk to me. Please talk to me.”
You shake your head, breath catching. “It’s nothing. I just— I’m being stupid.”
He leans closer, eyes earnest and steady. “You’re not stupid. Not even close. Tell me.”
It comes out all at once, messy and anxious, the way secrets sound when they’ve been sitting in the dark too long, refusing to stay hidden.
“I see the way you look at her,” you say, voice trembling, your hands gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles ache. “I see it every time she walks into the room. You light up in this… this way.”
You take a sharp breath, trying to steady yourself, but it comes out jagged. “And I know she’s your ex. I know you both have history. I know she’s with Jonathan. I know all of that! But it still feels like I’m… temporary. Like I’m just this placeholder, standing here while you figure out what you actually want —or like I’m someone you care about only in moments, and not the one you choose when it really matters.”
Your chest tightens and your throat burns as the words tumble out. You look down, fiddling with your sleeve, avoiding his eyes for the fraction of a second you dare.
More tears fall, hot and clumsy, and you rub them away but they keep coming. “I mean, she’s Nancy Wheeler. She’s brilliant and confident and she knows exactly who she is and she’s everything I’m not. And I swear I’m not imagining it because even Jonathan notices too the way you look at her sometimes and—”
“Okay,” Steve says gently, cutting you off in the softest way imaginable.
He unclips his seatbelt. Then he reaches across you and unclips yours.
Before you can even question it, he has his hands around your waist, lifting you carefully and guiding you onto his lap. You settle sideways against him, his arms wrapping around you like he is afraid you might slip through his fingers.
His thumbs brush your cheeks, wiping each tear as it falls. His forehead rests lightly against yours.
“First of all,” he says, voice warm and serious, “I never want to see you cry like this. It makes me feel like some kind of terrible boyfriend. Like the worst one in Hawkins history. And trust me, that list is long.”
A tiny, startled breath leaves you that almost resembles a laugh.
Steve smiles at the sound. “There she is,” he whispers.
His fingers keep brushing your face, soft and steady, as he looks at you with a sincerity that pulls the air straight from your lungs.
He pulls you closer, just enough to feel the press of his chest against yours, hands settling gently on your arms. “I know it’s hard to trust me sometimes, especially with everything that’s happened, with history and past mistakes and people we care about. But none of that changes this. None of that changes how I feel about you.”
Steve leans in just slightly, thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I choose. Always. And I’ll make sure you know it every single day, no matter what.”
“I don’t have feelings for Nancy. Not lingering ones, not secret ones, not hidden-in-the-back-of-my-stupid-brain ones. Nothing.” He shakes his head slowly. “I care about her, sure. She’s Nancy. She’s brave and determined and half the reason we’re alive. But I’m not in love with her. I haven’t been in love with her for a long time.”
Your breath trembles.
He continues, voice firm but full of affection. “And do you want to know why? Because I met you.”
Your heart stutters painfully.
“I am in love with you,” he says simply. “Head over heels. Completely gone. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you when I go to sleep. I think about you even when I’m supposed to be thinking about monsters and plans and crawl maps and all the other garbage that keeps trying to kill us.”
He tilts your face up gently, his hands cradling your cheeks. One soft kiss brushes your forehead, another grazes your temple, and then he nudges your nose against his lips in the gentlest way.
“And you want to talk about who has everything?” he says, voice low and teasing, hands sliding to your hips to hold you close. “Baby, you are the absolute hottest girl I have ever seen in my entire life. I mean it. And I’ve worked as a lifeguard, so that’s a statistically significant sample size.”
A small laugh escapes you, breathless and relieved. “Yeah, yeah. Good to hear that you think your girlfriend is hot, Harrington,” you murmur, smiling.
He grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your hand, then another to your knuckles. “And you know what?” he says, eyes sparkling, playful and serious all at once. “You’re the only person on this planet who’s ever going to be the mom of my six nuggets.”
Your head jerks back. “Six nuggets?”
He nods very seriously, hands still resting on your hips. “Six. I already have names picked out. Nugget One through Nugget Six. Three boys, three girls—”
You laugh, cutting him off. “Wait, wait—you think I’m actually going to give birth six times?”
Steve shrugs, smug and playful. “Why not? You love me, don’t you?”
You swat his chest. “I love you, but not enough to give you six babies!”
Steve leans in, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Well, if that’s the case,” he murmurs, smirk curling, “we could always practice making babies.”
A vampire apocalypse has come, and you’re one of the last humans alive. The entire population was wiped out within a few months, and while a few high quality humans had been herded into warehouses like cattle, you weren’t sure if there were many people left besides them.
For a while, you weren’t sure why you had been left behind.
You watched as your neighbors were picked off one by one, their wooden or metal barriers torn away like paper before they were dragged from their houses kicking and screaming. They often didn’t make it much further than the driveway before the feeding began, and eventually you couldn’t bear to look anymore.
But even as you ventured out to scavenge for food or met face to face with one of the beasts, you still came home alive and untouched.
“It’s because you’re ugly.”
You froze as an older man hobbled down the street towards you, but relaxed when you remembered it was the middle of the day. Vampires didn’t come out when the sun was up, maybe the legends were true.
When your body relaxed a bit, his words finally hit you. “W-what? Ugly?”
The man looked her up and down, leaning against his walking cane. “I heard ‘em talking about it, in them raspy voices the other nice. They done killed a whole family, bless their souls…”
He murmured the last part, clutching a silver cross hung around his throat. “The bastards can’t eat someone that wasn’t seen as beautiful by another person. Vampires themselves are gorgeous creatures so we cant really compete with them in terms of attractiveness. That’s why they gotta rely on human’s vision of beauty.”
The old man continued down the street, his eyes watching the sun as it began to set. “The last person that thought I was worth a damn thing was my late wife… but she’s been gone for nearly thirty years now.”
You stayed quiet, still trying to comprehend the reason you had been left behind and allowed to live. It wasn’t a kindness or from being special…
You just weren’t pretty.
The truth made something ugly well up in your chest, tears prickling in your eyes as you carried the supplies you acquired home.
“I guess I should be grateful…” you said to yourself, placing the canned goods in your pantry. “I get to live… in a quiet world with no friends or family. Everyone is gone and I’m alone…”
But that wasn’t much different from your life before.
You were distant from your few remaining family members and had just moved to the area, meaning you didn’t have any friends. The people you did know were pretty rude and inconsiderate, knocking over your garbage when they passed your driveway and leaving dog shit on your line.
“Maybe they deserved it…”
You instantly stilled the moment those words left your mouth. You hated getting like this, viewing others as worthy of harm just because they hadn’t been nice to you or you had some damn complex.
“That’s so ugly… that’s why no one thinks I’m beautiful…”
You spent the next few months in relative peace, even if you were going a bit insane from the lack of human contact. Sometimes you’d spot the old man and dashed over to talk to him, but he’d hardly give you the time of day.
“Go away, I ain’t getting close to no one and causing their death. You go on home and try to follow my example.”
He was right. Being around other humans during such a crisis could mean falling in love with the most unlikely people. Maybe if you saved someone or helped them in a dire situation their heart would beat a bit faster. Someone in love wouldn’t care about how you look, they’d find you beautiful because they adored you.
And that, was dangerous.
So you took his advice and stayed away from fellow humans. Though you tried to help when you could, giving food to wandering strangers or telling them the closest town after this, you never got too close and remained distant.
But as humans practically went extinct within a year’s time, the vampires were running out of beautiful people to feed on.
For nearly 11 months you lived on in your small home, stockpiled with food and gasoline for your generator. There was little competition in your small town for supplies since most people had been picked off by now, so you practically lived like a queen.
It was a quiet night of watching another dvd you found in town when you heard it.
Knock knock.
You paused the movie, your heart hammering in your chest. That sound was very familiar, you heard it countless nights when you still had neighbors being dragged out into the moonless nights by beasts you could hardly see.
It always started with a slow knocking, like the vampires enjoyed filling you with anticipation and fear. They knew you KNEW that this was going to be the end of your life… and they were thriving off of it.
“You should make it easier for us both and come out now, it’ll be less violent and painful for you…”
You felt yourself stand, your legs trembling as you approached the door. You didn’t want to go out like your neighbors, dragged through glass windows, bare skin scraping against the pavement while you were torn apart.
Your hand wrapped around the door knock and turned it slowly, the door creaking open to reveal a man behind it.
When the old man told you they were beautiful, you pictured a stereotypical gorgeous person… but a mortal couldn’t truly comprehend a vampire’s appearance until meeting one. While you had seen their beast form several times before, this was your first encounter with… this.
He stood before you, fangs glinting in the moonlight as his blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders, fluttering softly in the faint wind. Red eyes bore into yours, meeting your terrified gaze with intense delight that you could hardly understand.
“Ahh, we’ve been watching over you for a while, human. It was cute, seeing you eat your fatty snacks and stare at your TV screen, thinking you were safe.”
He leaned against the wall, smirking down at you as his cloak shifted. A pair of dark red bat wings twitched beneath it, revealing his true nature.
You knew he was a vampire already, he looked ethereally beautiful and stank of blood, but those wings drove it home. He was not a human, and he was there for you.
“W-what… do you want..?”
Even he was surprised that you were able to speak, his eyebrows lifting delicately before he chuckled.
“I guess you would be confused, wouldn’t you? Usually we drag you creatures out into the night and feast on your blood and flesh with no issue.”
You chanced a swallow, your throat feeling dry and your body stiff. He paused, letting his words sink in and fill you with even more anticipation.
“As you can probably tell,” he said after a moment, stepping past you and into your home. “There aren’t many humans left that we can eat.”
The vampire stood in the middle of your modest living room, glancing around with a frown. “Do you humans just enjoy living in such filth?” he asked as he stepped over a bag of half eaten chips.
You felt strangely humiliated by his question, your cheeks flushing, but you quickly regained your thoughts. Why should you care that this monster found your house a bit dirty? You were surviving an apocalypse!
“I can’t even believe I have to say this.”
He was almost whining as he flipped his hair, glaring down at you like you were more of an annoying insect than a human being.
“You’ve been selected for the human breeding program.”
You blinked, and he continued speaking before you could even process his words.
“I’ll be watching over you to make sure you eat well and are taken care of while my colleagues find a suitable breeding partner for you. The area will be clear of most vampires besides me so your human body won’t be so stressed and your eggs won’t shrivel up or whatever…”
Was he… reading a script? You stood behind him in stunned silence, your mouth agape.
“If you can produce enough human children you’ll be allowed to live as breeding stock for the rest of your mortal life. Once you can no longer breed, you may be turned into a vampire and allowed to join our ranks,” he said in a flat tone, waving his hand around at the end as if becoming a vampire would be appealing to you.
“No thanks.”
“You’ll be given good quality food and allowed to socia-“ he stopped reading, your words finally sinking in. “… excuse me?”
“I said no thanks. I don’t want to be your breeding stock or live on in a world where I have to sacrifice my children to get up in the world.”
He stared at you for a good moment, then spoke in a bored, exhausted tone. “What makes you think you have a choice? Those who don’t participate will be eaten or forced to.”
“Sure, try forcing me. That’ll just stress the women out and they’ll miscarry.”
It was a half-truth, but from what he said about your “eggs shriveling up”, the vampires didn’t seem to know much about human anatomy.
He stiffened, squinting down at you before he moved so quickly you nearly fell over. Faster than you could think, he had you pinned against the wall.
“You’d do well to listen, human woman. You have a year to think about your decision before they gather you all for the breeding program. Before then, you better come to terms with your fate and learn to listen to us.”
He took hold of your face, tilting it up so you’d meet with his scarlet eyes. “Because I’m starving, and would love to have fresh human flesh to sink my fangs into.”
He let you go, his claws leaving indents in your chubby cheeks. “I’ll be back tomorrow night with my things… make sure to clear out a room for me. I expect the high thread count sheets from that store down the street and those feather stuffed pillows.”
With a huff, he turned and walked out of your door, leaving you to stare at the empty space in front of you, still too terrified to move.
Would he have really killed you right then and there if he could?
It was then you realized it. They didn’t know that you were aware of what(or really, who) they could and couldn’t eat.
You were not seen as beautiful, therefore he could not eat you, and could not afford to lose you because you were needed for the breeding program.
Perhaps you could find some way to escape…
While you thought over your next move from your home, the vampire stared down at his hand.
The soft squish or your cheeks and the warmth they brought sunk into his cool skin. He kept thinking about how soft your flesh was, how he almost smirked when you defied the council’s wishes.
“Hey, Valentine.”
The sound of wings flapping behind him caught his attention. Valentine knew that voice, and he almost rolled his eyes before he turned.
“What is it now, Cupid?”
The pink haired boy grinned, showing off his newly formed fangs. He was a young vampire, and had just discovered the joys of hair dye and what the humans called “punk music”.
“I heard what that human said. You’re supposed to be guarding it, right?”
Valentine looked the youngster up and down, his eyebrow lifting just a hair. “What of it? Shouldn’t you be home by now? Your parents are probably tearing through the neighborhood looking for you.”
Howls could be heard from the distance, causing Cupid to jump. “Well, I just wanted to give you an offer.”
He stretched out his wings, then smiled as he glanced at your home. “If she doesn’t agree to the breeding program… why don’t we just eat her?”
Valentine stiffened, something about his words making the elder vampire snarl. Cupid quickly explained himself. “I mean, if she can’t breeding stock, I’m sure we could find some shmuck that’ll find her beautiful if we mess with his head enough. Then we-“
Cupid yelped when Valentine took hold of once of his wings, not enough to tear the delicate skin, but hard enough to quiet the young vamp’s babbling.
“As if I’d share a meal with the likes of you. Don’t dare to presume you can eat at the prince’s table.”
The second Valentine let go, Cupid took off into the air. “Y-yeah, Ex-Prince Valentine, you don’t scare me!”
Valentine sneered, his scarlet eyes rolling before he could stop himself. Feeling too lazy to peruse the tiny runt, he turned and began walking back to the palace.
Even if he was an Ex-Prince, having him work such a low level job was humiliating for a vampire of his status that had lived a life of luxury.
But… at least you might be interesting enough to keep him from dying of boredom.
He looked down at his open palm one more time, clenching his fist as if trying to keep the strange warmth he felt from seeping away… but vampires are creatures that feed off of human blood to live, and their cold flesh can never retain warmth again. In exchange for immortal life, the comfort of warmth alluded them.
But… for just a moment while he held your face, he felt it. With an evil smirk, he wondered if he scared you again, could he feel that same heat beneath his fingers return?
Now, he was looking forward to tomorrow night.
A/N: this is the beginning of a yandere!vampire love story. It will include: violence, somnophilia, gore, dubcon, obsession, mentions of breeding, and kidnapping. I’ll probably post each new part on my patreon before posting it here.
