Summary: kageyama, who is used to no one showing up for his games, gets a complete shock to see you up in the crowds, and completely whiffs his serve(loser)
Wc: 1085
A/n: hate it. Thats all :) im still not sure if i like the new divider.also i found it on pin so thats why i haven’t credited anyone. Theres still so much stuff in my notes app it’s so annoying omd.
Enjoy!
The roar of the crowd in the packed arena pressed in on Tobio Kageyama like a familiar weight—sharp, focused, demanding. Timeskip or not, some things never changed. He stood at the service line, volleyball tucked under his arm, eyes narrowed on the court ahead. The score was tight, the third set hanging by a thread. One good serve could shift everything.
He bounced the ball once. Twice. The ritual grounded him, the same way it had since middle school. But today, something felt… off. A hollow ache flickered in his chest as his mind drifted, unbidden, to memories he usually shoved deep down.
“Tobio, you have a match this weekend?” His mother’s voice, distant even back then. “We’ll try, okay?” They never came. Not to the youth tournaments, not to the Interhighs, not even when he made it to nationals. His sister had her own life. His father was always “busy.” Every time he scanned the stands as a kid, hoping—just once—to see a familiar face cheering for him, the seats stayed empty. It taught him early: rely on no one but yourself. Volleyball was enough. It had to be.
Kageyama exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts away. He tossed the ball up, arm swinging back for that signature king’s serve—
And then he saw you.
There, in the stands just behind the referee’s chair, wearing the team colors like you’d planned it all along. You weren’t supposed to be here. You’d said work was brutal this week, that the travel might not work out. He hadn’t pushed. He never pushed. But there you were, hands cupped around your mouth, eyes locked on him with that bright, unwavering smile that always made his chest feel too tight.
You came.
The ball slipped from his fingers mid-swing. It thudded uselessly against the court, rolling out of bounds. A missed serve. The crowd groaned. His teammates glanced over, surprised—Kageyama didn’t miss serves. Not like this.
He stood frozen, heart hammering against his ribs. You actually came. The words looped in his head, louder than the announcer’s voice calling a timeout. For a split second, the arena blurred. All those empty seats from his past flashed behind his eyes, replaced by you. The one person who showed up without being asked twice. Who texted him good luck even when he forgot to reply. Who understood the quiet, obsessive parts of him that volleyball had carved out.
“Oi, Kageyama!” Someone called—probably Hoshiumi—but he barely heard it. His cheeks burned. He shook his head once, hard, and forced himself back into the game. They still won. Of course they did. His team was stacked: Ushijima’s brutal spikes, Hoshiumi’s relentless energy, the others feeding off their rhythm. Kageyama poured everything into the remaining points, setting like his life depended on it. But his mind kept drifting to the stands.
When the final whistle blew and the victory cheers erupted, Kageyama didn’t join the usual huddle right away. His eyes scanned the sidelines, searching. There—you were waiting off to the side, out of the main bleacher flow, looking a little shy amid the chaos but so unmistakably there.
He didn’t think. He just ran.
His shoes squeaked against the polished floor as he broke into a full sprint, ignoring the sweat dripping down his back and the way his teammates paused mid-celebration. You turned at the sound of his approach, eyes widening.
“Kageyama—?”
He crashed into you without slowing, arms wrapping around your waist like you might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. The hug was fierce, almost desperate—his face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you that cut through the arena smells of rubber and sweat. Then he pulled back just enough to cup your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and kissed you. Hard. Right there, in front of everyone. No hesitation, no cool detachment. Just raw, overwhelming relief.
“You— you came,” he blurted as soon as he broke the kiss, words tumbling out faster than he could control. His voice cracked, just a little, the emotion he usually buried spilling over. “I didn’t think— I mean, you said work, and the train, and I told myself it was fine, like always, but you’re here. You actually showed up. For me. I saw you right before the serve and I just— I couldn’t even think straight. All those times before, no one ever… but you did. You’re here.”
His forehead pressed against yours, breaths coming quick and uneven. Up close, you could see the shine in his eyes—not tears, exactly, but something close. The great King of the Court, reduced to a boy who’d carried too much loneliness for too long.
“I’m so glad,” he whispered, the words fierce and soft all at once. “Thank you. I… I don’t say it enough, but having you here… it means everything.”
You hugged him back just as tightly, murmuring reassurances into his shoulder. The noise of the arena faded into background static.
A few feet away, Wakatoshi Ushijima stood with his arms crossed, watching the scene with his usual stoic expression—though one eyebrow had risen slightly. Beside him, Korai Hoshiumi bounced on his heels, mouth agape.
“Is that… Kageyama?” Hoshiumi muttered, half-laughing in disbelief. “Running? Hugging? Kissing? In public? I thought his face was permanently set to ‘annoyed setter mode.’”
Ushijima nodded slowly. “It is unusual. He rarely displays emotion so openly. Even after big wins, he is… reserved.”
“Reserved? The guy looks like he just won the lottery and might cry about it.” Hoshiumi elbowed his teammate lightly. “Think his girlfriend’s got some kind of magic? Or did we all enter an alternate universe during that timeout?”
A faint, rare smile tugged at Ushijima’s lips. “Perhaps both. It is… good to see. Emotions make a player human. Even Kageyama.”
Hoshiumi snorted. “Weird as hell, but yeah. Kinda nice. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Kageyama didn’t notice their conversation. He was too busy holding you, murmuring more quiet thank-yous against your hair, the missed serve long forgotten. The past aches felt smaller now, softened by the warmth of your arms around him. For the first time in a long while, the stands weren’t empty. You were here, and that changed everything.
Later, as the team filtered out, he kept your hand in his—fingers laced tight, a small, private smile on his face that he didn’t even try to hide. The king had finally found someone who made showing up feel like winning.
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cw: size kink, pussy drunk! bokuto, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, reblogs and comments are very appreciated!!<3
“Fuck—‘m sorry, baby, I can’t—I can’t stop—”
Bokuto’s voice was wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he slammed into you, holding you down like you’d disappear if he let go.
His massive frame caged you in, thick arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you still as he fucked into you with desperate, hungry thrusts.
You were already so fucked out, legs shaking, body limp beneath him, but Bokuto—Bokuto wasn’t done.
“T-too much—‘Koutarou—!”
“Nah,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes wild, blown-out and glassy. “Feels too good, baby. So tight—fuck, I swear you’re getting tighter—”
A deep, broken moan ripped from his throat, his hips shuddering as his fat cock dragged against your sensitive walls, hitting spots so deep they made your toes curl.
“S’too big, ‘Ko—!” You sobbed, your hands gripping his biceps, fingers barely able to wrap around the thick muscle.
“You can take it,” he panted, voice dripping with something dangerously sweet. “Know you can. My good girl—always takes me so well.”
He pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, making your back arch off the bed.
“Ohhh, fuck, yeah,” Bokuto whined, his voice breaking as he ground himself deep, rolling his hips like he was trying to mold you to his shape. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so good—gonna make me cum so fast—!”
His cock throbbed inside you, his thick veins pressing against your walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You felt so full, stretched to your limit, your stomach bulging just slightly from the sheer size of him.
Bokuto groaned at the sight, pressing his palm to the little bump, feeling himself inside you.
“Shit, look at that,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous. “Splitting you right open, huh? Fuck, baby, you were made for this dick—made for me—”
Your walls fluttered around him, and Bokuto gasped, his grip on your hips bruising.
His pace stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, desperate, his breath ragged as he buried himself as deep as he could go.
“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “Gonna make you so full—fuck, take it—take all of it—”
With a final, wrecked groan, Bokuto spilled inside you, his whole body trembling as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. He shuddered, pressing his face into your neck, still rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts, pushing it all deeper.
“Shit,” he panted, arms tightening around you. “Still so hard—can’t get enough—”
And with the way he was already rutting back into you, his cock twitching, aching for more—you knew he meant it.
AUTHOR‘S NOTE: BOOMSHAKALAKA THANK YOU ALL FOR THE GREAT SUPPORT
With the balancing act of work and life, relationships and adulthood, the days slipped right past him without a second thought.
He wakes up that morning and starts his routine like usual; 5 am alarm, coffee, gym.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
It isn’t until he comes back from the gym an hour later, sweaty and ready for a shower, that he realizes something is off.
There you are, standing on a chair in the middle of his living room, wresting with a strand of streamers. There’s half inflated balloons scattered all over the floor, rolls of tape sitting on the coffee table beside you.
“..What’re you doing?” he suddenly blurts from your side, scaring the shit out of you.
You flinch hard, chair wobbling under your feet but his large hands are immediately grabbing your waist to steady you.
The second both feet are firmly planted on the chair again, he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
“You scared me!”
“Well you shouldn’t be up there anyways!”, he shoots back.
“And you shouldn’t even be up yet! I thought you were asleep!”
He gives you a strange look, “I always go to the gym before work”
You frown, “You’re not going to work today, Haji”
He raises an eyebrow, “Why not?”
You stare at him.
He stares back.
You blink once.
Then twice.
“Are you fucking with me?”
His brows knit together, “No?”
And the confusion on his face is so genuine that you almost feel bad.
“Hajime…. Do you know what day it is?”
He takes a second, thinking real hard, suddenly looking a little nervous, “…Did we have plans?”
You stare at him for a second before snorting, “Dude, it’s your birthday”
You watch the confusion on his face melt into realization then mild embarrassment, before he lets out a breathy little laugh and a quiet, “Oh yeah”
You laugh, loud and obnoxious enough to chase the embarrassment right off his face. A sheepish smile tugs at his lips despite himself.
“How’d you forget?” you ask, a crooked grin pulling at your mouth as he starts fixing the streamers you’d been struggling with.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, “I’ve been busy”
The tips of his ears are pink now.
“Well, go shower and forget you saw this. It was supposed to be a surprise,” you say, snatching the streamers right back out of his hands.
He rolls his eyes, despite the little smile still tugging at his lips, “Yes ma’am”
Before he can walk away, you grab his hand and tug him back toward you.
He barely has a second to react before you’re leaning up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Happy birthday, Haji” you mumble against his lips, smiling gently.
His stomach twists, warm feeling settling deep in his chest.
He smiles against your lips, forehead bumping yours lightly.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quieter than usual, softer too, “I love you”.
“I love you too handsome”, you say softly, smiling up at him like he hung the moon.
Having you around is the best present he could’ve ever asked for.
Not the decorations hanging crookedly around the room. Not whatever surprise you undoubtedly had planned. Not even the fact that you remembered his birthday when he’d managed to forget it himself.
Just you.
Standing here, smiling at him like that.
————————————————————————
A/N: I know this is late but i’m pure of heart so it doesn’t matter 💗
suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.
it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.
you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.
suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.
"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.
"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.
"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"
"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?
"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.
suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?
yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments
bokuto gets yelled at quite a lot in your household. he gets yelled at for putting the fancy china in the dishwasher when he’s not supposed to, forgetting to separate the laundry and dying all of your clothes an ugly washed out red, and leaving puddles all over the bathroom floor because he steps out of the shower without drying off first and never puts the bath mat down.
one afternoon, your daughter is sitting at the table drawing, legs dangling from the chair, scribbling with colorful crayons on paper and drinking juice from her princess sippy cup. you take a seat next to her to ask her a question.
“baby, what’s mommy’s name?”
she puts down her coloring utensils and says cheerfully, with a smile as wide and bright as her father’s, “mommy!”
“and how about daddy’s name?”
without a single second of hesitation she takes a deep breath to prepare herself and yells so loud you feel the house shake, “KOOOUUUTAAAROOOUUU!”
you laugh at the way she furrows her brows and juts out her bottom lip the same way you do when you’re frustrated at your husband’s antics.
“i guess mommy does yell at daddy at lot, huh?”
she nods and gives that look that tells you, yeah right, we know. “yup. because daddy always does silly stuff!” she giggles at the thought.
you giggle back in agreement. “he does, doesn’t he?”
you hear loud footsteps pad down the hardwood floor in the hallway, and bokuto’s head pops out from the corner.
“sweetheart, did you call my name?”
you and your daughter just laugh. like mother, like daughter.
a/n: i think im gonna start writing again, slowly at least so i dont get burnout like i did last time i was in here. im probably never gonna finish my summer event i started before i fell of the face of the earth so sorry to everyone who requested and never got anything tysm for your support nonetheless </3 anyways ok pls take this i thought it was cute 👍
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𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.7k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ i was supposed to make it under 1k but i got a bit carried away.. but i like this one its so silly -> also on ao3
requested ☆
look, we all know oikawa tooru is a lot to handle. he's dramatic, he's pretty arrogant, and he's.. currently leaning against the gym wall at aoba johsai looking like he's posing for a magazine cover.
he does that thing where he runs his hand through his hair every time a group of girls walks by the gym windows, and it's making your head ache.
head, not heart. because no matter how much he pretends to flirt with his fangirls, you know what happens when the two of you are alone together. he whines and complains about how much he loves you
as one of the karasuno managers, you're supposed to be focused on getting the water bottles filled and making sure hinata doesn't pass out from nerves or throw up on someone's shoes.
but.. it's hard to focus when your boyfriend of three years is across the court blowing kisses at his 'fans' in the stands. it's even harder to focus when you see iwaizumi narrowing his eyes at the back of oikawa's head.
"he's so annoying," kageyama mutters from where he's standing next to you. he stares at oikawa with that scowl of his, the one that makes him look like he's just swallowed a lemon.
"he's not that bad, tobio," you say, checking your clipboard and marking something off.
kageyama looks at you like you've grown a second head. "you're just biased, l/n-san. i still don't get how you haven't dumped him yet. he's even more annoying - if, not when - he's winning."
"it's been three long years. i think i'm committed at this point. plus, i already bought him a birthday present for next month," you add with a shrug. kageyama scowls again.
kiyoko looks over at you, her expression neutral but her eyes curious. she's noticed you looking toward the aoba johsai side more than usual, but to her credit she hasn't said anything yet.
the rest of karasuno - tanaka and nishinoya specifically - are busy being intimidated by the 'great king' vibes oikawa is radiating.
they have no idea that the guy they're currently glaring at is the same guy who cried over a lost alien keychain you gave him last tuesday on call with you, sobbing about how 'the little green man deserved a better home'.
the practice match is already underway when oikawa finally goes on the court, and the atmosphere changes immediately. you have to act like you aren't checking out his form or noticing how well those shorts fit him, because damn there's nothing there to highlight.
sugawara glances at you, observant as always. "uh, l/n-san.. you alright?"
"what?" you blink, turning to him and smiling awkwardly. "oh- yep! im in tip top shape."
sugawara stares at you, his lips curling upwards as he eyes you. "hm. sure."
don't look at oikawa don't look at oikawa don't look at oikawa-
oikawa, being the absolute menace he is, doesn't make it easy. before he even picks up a ball to serve, his eyes scan the karasuno side. he isn't looking for kageyama; he's looking for you.
when he finds you, his entire face lit up. he doesn't just wave, he does that stupidly graceful two finger salute he always does, accompanied by a wink that is definitely intended to be charming.
"y/n-chan! did you come all this way just to see me lose? well too bad, im winning today!" he shouts across the net, ignoring the fact that his coach is staring at him incredulously.
the gym goes silent for a blissful second.
tanaka blinks, his face faltering into pure confusion. "wait. did he just call our manager by her first name?"
"and he added a 'chan'?" hinata squeaks, his knees shaking. "are they.. friends? does the great king have friends?"
tsukishima smirks, glancing between you and the court with that annoying look he gets when he figures something out. "friends might be an understatement, given how red her face is."
yamaguchi sniggers. "nice one, tsukki!"
you ignore tsukishima and look at oikawa, who's now spinning the ball on his finger. "just serve the damn ball, tooru! you're stalling and making everyone wait!"
"tooru?!" nishinoya shouts, his soul practically leaving his body through his mouth. "first name basis with the enemy?! this is a scandal! where is your loyalty?!"
daichi swats the second year libero on the head, and nishinoya yelps.
the match is intense, mostly because oikawa keeps targeting tsukishima and hinata with those lethal serves. every time he scores a point, he looks over at the karasuno bench and blows a kiss or winks.
it's getting rather embarrassing.
at one point, oikawa gets a bit too cocky and starts doing a little victory dance. before he can finish, a volleyball comes flying and smacks him right in the back of the head with a loud thwack.
"get focused, shittykawa!" iwaizumi yells from the back of the court. you hide a snicker in your jacket sleeve. oikawa doubles over, clutching his head. "iwa-chan! that was so mean! i was just showing y/n-chan my skills!"
"she's seen you miss a serve and cry about it, she knows you don't have skills!" iwaizumi barks back.
he then looks over at you and gives a small, respectful nod, which you return.
during a timeout, the karasuno boys huddle up. they aren't even talking about strategy - they're staring at you like you're a spy. kiyoko stands by, holding the water bottles, looking just as interested as the boys are. heck, even ukai is watching.
"okay, spill it," daichi says, his voice calm but his eyes demanding answers. "how do you know their captain? and why was their vice captain nodding at you?"
"we went to kitagawa daiichi together," you explain, trying to sound casual as you hand out water bottles. "iwaizumi, t- oikawa and i have known each other since we were kids. i used to make them snacks after practice."
"and?" tanaka presses, leaning in so close you can see the sweat on his forehead. "people don't use first names just because they went to middle school together. kageyama went there too, and he calls him 'oikawa-san' – well, mostly he calls him 'that guy', but still!"
you sigh and look at kageyama, who's trying to pretend he isn't listening. "tobio, tell them so they stop looking at me like i've committed treason."
kageyama doesn't even look up from his water bottle. he just takes a long sip and wipes his mouth. "they've been dating since third year of junior high. it's gross. he buys her giant stuffed aliens and she apparently keeps them in her room. i had to see them holding hands in the hallway for a whole year."
you roll your eyes. "thank you, tobio."
the silence that follows is louder than the volleyballs hitting the floor. even kiyoko's eyes widen slightly in surprise.
"DATING?!" tanaka and nishinoya scream in unison, their voices echoing off the gym ceiling.
"the great king.. and our manager?" hinata's jaw is on the floor. "but he's.. he's a villain! he's like the final boss!"
across the court, oikawa notices the commotion. he walks right up to the net, looking incredibly smug. "are you guys bothering my girlfriend? don't be mean, or i'll double my power and aim for your faces."
"go away, tooru! go back to your own side!" you yell, throwing a towel at him. he catches it easily with one hand, laughing as he presses it to his face. "it smells like your detergent," he chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "im keeping this as a trophy."
"..but that's a karasuno towel! give it back.." takeda says weakly, though no one hears him over the sound of tanaka and nishinoya weeping about the 'betrayal'.
after the match ends – with karasuno taking the win – the two teams start packing up.
you and kiyoko are gathering the stray balls when oikawa decides to make his move. he jogs over to the karasuno side before you can even grab the ball bag. he just walks straight up to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a huge hug that lifts your feet off the ground.
"i missed you," he complains into your shoulder, sounding like a pouting child. "why did you have to go to a school with such an ugly uniform? black doesn't suit you as well as turquoise. you should just transfer."
"i like the uniform, tooru. and i like my team. let go, people are staring. you're being dramatic as always." which you love
"let them stare. they should know i'm the one who gets to take you to ramen after this."
oikawa looks over at kageyama, who is standing a few steps away looking like he wants to jump off a bridge. "tobio-chan! take care of my girl on the bus, 'kay? if she gets a bruise from one of your stray tosses, ill never forgive you."
"shut up, oikawa-san," kageyama snaps, turning his back on him. you muffle a laugh behind your hand.
oikawa then notices kiyoko standing nearby. he gives her a charming smile. "take good care of y/n-chan for me, okay? she gets cranky when she doesn't have snacks."
you slap his shoulder lightly, and oikawa pouts again.
kiyoko blinks at him, completely unfazed by his charm. "ill make sure she's fine." she says simply.
iwaizumi eventually walks over and grabs oikawa by the back of his jersey, dragging him away like a misbehaving puppy. "stop bothering them, trashykawa. we have to clean the floors and you have to apologise to the coach for being a distraction."
"WAIT! Y/N! text me when you get home! i want to hear all about how much you missed my setting!" oikawa yells as he's hauled away, feet dragging on the gym floor.
you just sigh, turning back to see the entire karasuno team staring at you in a mix of horror, awe, and deep suspicion.
"so," sugawara says, breaking the silence with a gentle, slightly concerned smile. "aoba johsai's captain, huh? you certainly have a.. unique type."
"i know," you mutter, picking up the ball bag. "im working on it."
"she's not," kageyama mutters. "she has a picture of him wearing glasses and posing as her lock screen, and she has him named as 'oikiwi' in her messages. it's pathetic."
"tobio, i will bench you for the entire season-!"
"you can't do that, you're just a mana- OKAY IM SORRY-"
ah oikawa ur such a silly guy ilysm just dont flirt with yo fan girls pls 🙏 to be called my girl by oikawa 🤤 jk being called love by akaashi is better
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Brendon Park x AFAB!female!reader, ex!Robby x AFAB!female!reader (but they are sooooo broken up)
Find part one here.
WC: 3.7k
CW: discussion of depression, breakup angst (only a little), reader has hair, medical inaccuracies, explicit language, people yelling at each other, suggestive language and steamy/smutty scenes so MDNI please!!
AN: Thank you all so much for all the love on part one; it truly made my week from hell (finals week) much brighter! Sorry for the wait, after finals I was at a lake house that had no wifi lol. Once again, I feel compelled to say that Robby is still deserving of compassion, healing, and love but that doesn't negate being held accountable for his actions and words. Lowk that scene between Meredith and Derek inspired a little bit of one of the scenes. You'll know it when you read it!
A little over one month had passed and you were still staying at Brendon's. Each time you attempted to look at potential apartments, he'd ask you if you wanted to go on a walk, watch a show, or do literally anything else. You certainly weren't complaining, still, you wanted to be mindful of your burgeoning romance with him. You worried what other people might think about you jumping into (and on) something with Park. Of course, he dutifully reminded you that other people's opinions didn't matter.
Still, a traitorous seed of insecurity couldn't help but be planted within you -- what if he got tired of you? What if one morning he woke up and decided that he'd had enough? It wasn't like you had a whole lot of say over when Robby ended your relationship and kicked you out.
In fact, the circumstances were eerily similar: you, a subordinate with little financial independence were relying on your professional superior for a place to stay while being romantically intertwined. Deep down you knew that the two men couldn't be any more different. Where Robby gave you empty words and forgotten promises, Brendon showed you how much he valued you.
Even if things were going well with Brendon, you still wanted your own space. One that was entirely yours, a sanctuary from work and an escape from reality. Additionally, as much as you loved hanging around Brendon, you knew that you still needed to heal from Robby. That work and reflection should be done in your space and on your terms. You promised yourself the next time you perused Zillow in the living room and he inevitably asked you to do something else, you'd politely decline. Enter one stubborn man.
Brendon was at the gym and you were sprawled out on his couch, lazily looking at places while your laptop sat in your lap. You heard the door open and in walked a very sweaty, sexy Brendon. You loved him like this; disheveled, panting, wet with sweat -- you knew it was kind of disgusting to want him post workout but god, he looked so ..... biteable, kissable, fuckable. You were doing a poor job at hiding the fact you were checking him out. He smirked and stalked towards you.
With a rough voice he asked, "how about you join me in the shower?"
Mustering up as much self-control as you could, you said, "as tempting as that is, I really need to actually look for a place. So I can you know, get out of your hair." He grumbled at that and said, "I like you in my hair." You playfully rolled your eyes in response and tore your eyes away from him, very reluctantly, to continue half-heartedly searching for a place.
At this point, Brendon could sniff out your insecurities due to your former relationship a mile away. He hated that you thought you were a burden, an inconvenience and unwanted. He had no choice; he was going to pull out the big guns.
Taking off his shirt while maintaining eye contact, he tried once again. "You sure about that sweetheart?"
Well... no, you weren't sure. Now your discipline was wearing thin, as all you could think about was how much you wanted to climb that man like a tree. And the bastard knew, of course he knew the effect he had on you. It was written all over your face, with your glassy eyes and parted lips.
Determined to stay focused, you weakly replied, "I... I...um, no. I really need to find a place."
Leaning forward over you, arms bracketing the couch, Park started kissing down your neck. Hook, line, and sinker. What little restraint you had left was gone, gone, gone. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into his touch. Then, his lips found your earlobe, gently sucking on it, eliciting a soft gasp from you.
With a husky whisper, Brendon said, "You don't need to search right now baby." He'd already had you at this point; he knew it and so did you. But he wasn't the kind of man to simply stop once he won. So, he kept going and what he said next killed you.
"You're not gonna make me beg, are you?" Heat flooded to your face, your heart jumped out of your chest, and most of all, you felt yourself clench around nothing. Almost effortlessly, he had you wet, desperate, and wanting.
Taking his bait, you breathily replied, "I'd like to hear the Shark beg."
At that, he rounded the couch, stepping in front of you. Practically in a trance, you moved your legs so you were sitting in an upright position. He then stepped in between your legs. You looked up at him and were met with his darkened eyes, blown with desire.
Slowly, he kneeled in front of you and you briefly wondered if he'd be able to see your desire through your flimsy pajama shorts. Any thoughts left your brain as he put his hands on your knees and started kissing up your legs. You watched with lidded eyes and lips parted in anticipation. No matter how many times you had been intimate with him, he always managed to make you feel desired, wanted, and needed in ways you'd scarcely felt before. He looked up into your eyes and with the most affected voice, said, "baby, please join me in the shower." Your breath hitched. And he continued reverently kissing your legs.
"Please." Another kiss. "Please." Dangerously close to your center, Brendon placed another kiss high up on your upper thigh. He lifted your shirt and you pulled it off completely, leaving you topless in your pj bottoms. For a moment he just stared at you, looking as if he was seeing you bare for the first time again. In a wrecked voice, he whispered out, "beautiful," causing your heart to twinge with affection. You knew you were beautiful but right now, he made you feel it.
Park's hands trailed up your abdomen, only stopping when they cupped your breasts. His thumbs rolled over your nipples, bringing them to stiffened peaks. Your head was thrown back, chest arching into his touch when you finally acquiesced, "shit, shit, yes I'll join you in the shower." Fuck your pride, fuck your restraint, and fuck anything else right now.
Despite finally accepting his invitation, Park didn't stop his ministrations. He started kissing your chest but never giving you the attention where you so desperately needed. He was a horrible, wonderful, patient, teasing man. No stranger to staying focused for hours on end, he could quite literally do this all night. You whined impatiently, and he finally took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over you. A mewl fell from your lips and your hips canted up, chasing friction -- chasing him.
When your gazes locked again, an ineffable feeling hung in the air. It was more than desire, lust, or anticipation for what was to come. For a moment, everything was still. He was looking up at you, making you feel powerful and drunk on desire, drunk off of him. You brought your hands to his short hair and tugged, pulling a shaky breath from him. He loved when you got whiny, desperate, and a little bratty. It made his pants tighten all the more because he relished the opportunity to correct that attitude.
He got to his feet and offered a hand to pull you up. Lord knew you had wobbly legs at the moment. Still holding hands, the two of you made your way to his bedroom's en suite bathroom. Just before you entered his room, he stopped you both in your tracks. He'd had that look in his eye. The one he got when he was about to say something devastatingly hot to you.
"Now it's my turn to hear you beg."
And beg you would.
Later that night, your head on his chest while you both laid in his bed, you absentmindedly traced patterns on his skin. There was something you needed to bring up to him; something that was making you nervous in a way that caused your stomach to swirl. You knew Brendon appreciated honesty and straightforwardness but it could be overwhelming and daunting to speak your mind. You knew it was now or never though, so you cut through the silence.
"Brenny?" You loved to call him that. The first time you did, you were rewarded with sight of the tips of his ears turning pink. Brenny, Sharkie, and baby were your favorite nicknames for him. One time, Whitaker thought he could call Brendon "Sharkie" and found out the hard way that only you could call him that.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I uh, need to talk to you about something. I'm kind of scared to do it." At that he fully sat up in bed, putting his phone screen-side down on the nightstand, ensuring you had his full attention. He looked to you, silently encouraging you to continue.
"So Whitaker told me that Robby came back early from his sabbatical and is working again, which means he'll be back for both of our shifts in two days. I don't know... I'm worried about his reaction to us."
Brendon exhaled out of his nose and nodded. "First of all, I completely understand where you're coming from. I know this is the first time you'll be seeing him and working with him after the breakup, which is bound to be difficult." He grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. "Second of all, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Moving on is allowed. You're allowed to be happy. Whatever his reaction will be is entirely reflective on him -- not you or us."
He continued, "I know that you are more than capable of fighting your own battles but don't be afraid to page me if he gives you a hard time. Robinavitch can take out whatever angst he has on me, not you."
You don't know how you got so lucky with Brendon. Emotion swelled in your chest, gratefulness the strongest of all. But you weren't done being brave with honesty. Taking a big breath, you faced your fears head on again.
"That's not all. I wanted to be honest about the living together situation. Obviously, I am incredibly thankful to be staying with you. But I worry about you getting tired of me, or relying on another man for housing, or it being too much and too soon."
He looked down at his hands and panic rose within you, lighting your nerves on fire. Great. This was it -- the straw that broke the camel's back. Blood rushed through your body and you felt sick. Finally his gaze returned to your eyes.
"Shit, I'm sorry baby. I didn't even think about how you wouldn't want to be in the same position as you were before with relying on someone else for housing. I'm an idiot. But I want to get one thing clear. Even if, god forbid, we ended things tomorrow, I would still let you stay until you found a place that you liked."
Cue the waterworks. In a good way of course. This was the reassurance you wanted, needed from him. Your bravery and honesty paid off, as it always would with Park. Wrapping you arms around his body, you cried into his chest, just as you had in that stairwell many moons ago. He soothed you by engulfing you in his embrace and stroking your hair.
Still holding you tight, he spoke again, saying, "I'll reach out to my sisters tonight about those housing options we talked about. Something nice, affordable, safe, and near the hospital."
Your response came out muffled in his chest, "I can't thank you enough."
"You don't need to keep thanking me."
Looking up at him, you replied, "but I want you to know how grateful I am for you and everything you're doing."
"I know, trust me baby, I know. I just hope you remember that I do it for you, not for anything in return. There is no score to be settled here."
Fuck. Tears welled up in your eyes all over again. Attempting to lighten the mood, you said, "who made you so emotionally intelligent?"
"I gotta give my mom credit for that."
You smiled into him, taking another deep breath to calm down. Crying was exhausting. So you fell asleep in the Shark's arms, feeling safe and comforted.
Almost in the blink of an eye, it was time to go back to work and you found yourself getting ready for the day with a pit of dread sitting like a brick deep in your stomach. Brendon already had to go in for a scheduled surgery. He left you this morning with a kiss on your forehead and a text that read, "I'm here if you need me." Despite all of that, you were still nauseous, overthinking about what was to come. The only way out is through.
Taking a deep breath in the ambulance bay, you attempted to steel your nerves. Maybe that wouldn't work but you'd fake it until your shift was over. You walked into the E.D. without fanfare and your head held high. Dennis, Victoria, and Trinity were on shift with you and you knew they had your back. They'd cover you if you needed a moment of stillness.
With her glasses perched low on her nose, Dana called out to you, "about time you got here doctor. You're needed in triage." Thank god for Dana Evans, giving you something easy but that would keep your hands and mind busy. Of course she'd be looking out for you on a day like today. She was knowingly smiling at you as you walked up to her at the nurse's station.
"You are heaven-sent. An angel, truly. Thank you Dana."
She put her hand on your shoulder, squeezing you in support.
"You know I got you kid. And if it gets to be too much, if he so much as looks at you wrong, you let me know." With words failing as emotion caught in your throat, you simply nodded and headed to triage.
For the first three hours of your shift, things were blessedly fine. You could hear Robby but you were able to avoid him by taking any questions to Dr. Al-Hashimi. But by 10:12 A.M., your luck had run out. Your patient, a 3-year-old girl who had possibly swallowed a toy, suddenly began presenting with pulmonary distress. You jumped into action by securing her airway and screamed for assistance to administer oxygen. Robby came barreling in and his attitude caused tensions to run even higher in the room. Jesse came bounding in on Robby's heels.
Informing them what was going on, you urgently explained, "3-year-old girl who may have swallowed a foreign object began suddenly presenting with pulmonary distress." Her grandmother looked on in pure panic with guilt stretched across her face. She had told you she was her sole care-taker but it was extremely difficult at her age and energy level to watch such a young child.
"Forceps!" You requested from Jesse, which he quickly passed to you.
Aggressively cutting in, Robby spit, "no, we should get an urgent chest x-ray to see where the object is!"
Ignoring him you replied, "no, if she swallowed a plastic toy it likely wouldn't show up on the x-ray. We need to get out whatever is blocking the airway now!"
Robby looked like he was about to push you out of the way until you yelled out, "got it," as you pulled out a small toy that looked like a littlest pet shop figurine. The little girl, Julia, was coughing but thankfully breathing. Julia's grandmother sagged in relief and cried as she hugged her granddaughter.
"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you." Julia clung to her grandmother, who was giving you a teary smile that you returned. Although, with Robby's presence causing you anxiety, you feared it looked more like a grimace. He looked pretty pissed off for someone who just witnessed their resident save a 3-year-old with a medically accepted maneuver.
Breathing heavily out of his nose and a fire burning in his eyes, he seethed, "can I talk to you outside?" Your intuition told you this was about to get ugly but you couldn't refuse your boss. It was unfair and a million other things but you knew you had to follow him out.
"Julia, I have to step out but you're in great hands with Jesse." Jesse smiled at you and then Julia, trying to ease the tension in the room. With that, you followed Robby to what felt like your doom. For all you knew, it very well could be.
Robby led you to an empty stairwell with his arms crossed, anger and frustration rolling off of him. Once the door shut, he whirled around and asked, "what the fuck was that?" The thing about Robby was that it was impossible not to match his energy, stoop to his level and bite back just as hard.
Laughing without humor, you said, "that was me saving a little girl's life." Robby rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Oh-ho-ho, no, no, that was you directly defying your attending's orders."
"She could have DIED if I hadn't done what I did. You're pissed that I was right."
Robby looked at you incredulously. "I guess fucking the Shark has boosted your ego. How long did you even wait to start warming his bed? I gotta be honest with you, I thought you were better than that. But this wouldn't be the first time I was wrong about you."
What. The. Fuck. The injustice of Robby's words boiled your blood and anger seared through you, scorching and burning you in the worst way. He had no right, absolutely no right to talk to you like that. What's worse is that he thought he had any authority to speak on who you were.
"You're fucking kidding right? YOU broke up with ME and kicked me out, fully knowing I had nowhere to go! How dare you try to slut shame me at all but let alone considering the way you treated me as if I was nothing! I fucking loved you, I tried so, so, so hard to make you happy while you hurt me beyond measure. You fucking discarded me as if I was garbage." Robby's chest was heaving, still furious, maybe not even absorbing your words. But you wouldn't be stopped. You finally found your voice again and he was going to fucking hear it.
Robby stepped closer to you, crowding your space in an attempt to intimidate you. "How much could you have loved me if you started fucking the first man who looked your way?" Although he was trying to get a rise out of You weren't going to defend your actions. You didn't have to. Now, you were going to choose peace instead of matching his energy. You stood your ground, tipped your chin up and had a challenge in your eye.
As calmly as you could, you said, "I expect you to treat me with respect and professionalism at our place of work. If you don't, I'm getting HR and Gloria involved. I mean it."
His face reddened in anger. "So now you're threatening HR and Gloria on me if I give you orders which you don't listen to or I give you directions you don't agree with? That's fucking pathetic."
"No, what's pathetic is you masking this as anything besides your anger at me for moving on. You knew I made the right call with Julia or else you would have pushed me aside. You're soaking in this vindictiveness for absolutely no reason. The only person you have to blame for me being with Brendon is yourself. So go back to being the 7-week-itch Robby and terrorize some other woman in this hospital with your emotional bullshit."
You don't know what came over you; words were pouring out of you. He needed to hear it, more importantly, you needed to say it. So you continued to let him have it.
"Better yet, stay away from everyone until you get your shit figured out. You cannot just act recklessly and impulsively with me or the rest of the hospital staff just because you never unpacked your own trauma. I'm telling you that if you treat me any differently than the other residents I will go to HR and Gloria. I'm telling you if you act like an asshole to me or humiliate me, or any other ER staffer, I'm going to force so much paperwork and disciplinary meetings down your throat that you won't be able to gasp for air. This is the last time you pull this bullshit."
You turned on your heel, leaving a befuddled and disbelieving Robby in the stairwell. He'd never seen you so angry, confident, or clear in your boundaries. When you were together he'd pushed and pushed against them and normally, you'd give in. When he broke up with you and kicked you out, he hadn't expected you to move on the way you had. His heart sunk and his throat was thick with emotion. He also hadn't expected to feel regretful.
Robby's sabbatical wasn't all that healing. In fact, most of the time he was plagued by thoughts of you and the ER department. He'd wished he'd done a plethora of things differently. Over his break he never once thought he wanted to get you back but now he wasn't so sure. On his first day back he found out you were dating Park, which prompted jealousy and deep-seeded insecurity to flare within him; bright, sharp, and biting. Park was younger, stronger, a surgeon, and now he had you.
Even though Robby hadn't changed much in the brief time he was gone, it was all too clear that you had. You seemed more sure of yourself and completely unwilling to take his shit. The mutterings around the Pitt were that you were happy and so was the Shark. Robby was finding that this.... was incredibly shitty and unlikely to change.
So that's how Robby found himself, barely holding it together, kinda devastated in the very same stairwell where Brendon had found you crying on that fated day. It was almost poetic. It was mainly karmic.
Ok there is def going to be a part three, which will be an epilogue. Thank you so much for reading and for interacting with the fic! It was so fun to read everyone's comments and it truly made me want to write a really good follow-up (i sincerely hope I delivered). Please let me know if something else needs to be addressed with content warnings. Have a lovely week!
cw: suggestive content, reader is depicted to be shorter than him (non-specified height)
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a ‘hand-on-hip’ or ‘hand-on-nape’ policy. because of the sheer height difference, he’s constantly finding ways to tether you to him. whether you’re standing in line for coffee or walking through somewhere, his large, calloused hand is either resting firmly on the small of your back or his fingers are hooked into your back pocket, pulling you flush against his side. He likes the physical reminder that you’re right there.
;; boyfriend!ushijima uses his wealth in the most understated, attractive way possible. he doesn’t brag, but you’ll mention your favorite snacks are running low, and the next day, a box of twelve arrives at your door. he thinks it’s only logical to provide the best for you. If you’re tired and he can’t take you home, he’s already booked a car to pick you up so you don’t have to walk. he’ll look you dead in the eye and say, “you deserved the upgrade,” as if spending a small fortune on your comfort is as natural as breathing.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a fan of you wearing his oversized clothes. he knows he’s massive, and he likes the way you look drowned in his clothing. he’ll purposefully leave his heaviest, most expensive cashmere sweaters at your place just so he can come over and find you wearing nothing but the knit and a pair of wool socks. he won’t say anything at first; he’ll just walk up behind you, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and inhale deeply, his large hands bracketing your waist.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is incredibly observant during quiet moments. while you’re reading or working, you’ll feel his gaze on you—heavy and intense. when you look up, he doesn’t look away. he just watches the way your lips move when you think or the way your shirt slips off your shoulder. “you’re very beautiful,” he’ll state plainly, his voice dropping an octave, “i find it difficult to focus on anything else when you're in the room.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a very specific ‘gym recovery’ routine that involves you. after a long training session, he’s needy in a way only you see. he’ll sit on the floor between your legs while you’re on the couch, letting you massage his shoulders. the heat radiating off his skin is intense, and he’ll tilt his head back to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, silently demanding a kiss—or something more—as thanks for his hard work.
;; boyfriend!ushijima handles you like you’re the most precious thing he owns, yet he’s remarkably firm. he likes to pick you up—to reach things on high shelves, or just because he wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist. there’s something about the way he can support your entire weight with just one arm while the other holds your face that makes your heart absolutely race.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a literal furnace in bed. sleep with him means being tucked securely under his arm, his chest acting as your pillow. he’s a heavy sleeper, but the second you try to wiggle away in the morning, his grip tightens instinctively. he’ll mumble your name into your hair, his morning voice rasping and deep, pulling you back down until you’re pinned beneath his sheer mass. “stay,” he commands, and with the way he’s looking at you, you wouldn’t dream of leaving.
;; boyfriend!ushijima views your body with the same disciplined intensity he applies to volleyball—he studies you until he knows every curve, every sensitive patch of skin, and exactly which touch draws a specific sound from your throat. he isn’t loud about his desire, but it’s constant. you’ll be at a dinner party, surrounded by his wealthy associates, and he’ll keep his expression perfectly stoic while his hand slides under the table, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your inner thigh, inching upward just enough to make your breath hitch while he continues a conversation about athletics as if he isn’t undoing you.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a thing for your neck. he’s a ‘marker.’ he’ll be behind you, his large hands sliding under your top to grip your hips, and he’ll pepper heavy, wet bites along the sensitive skin of your shoulder. he likes the visual proof that you belong to him, and he’ll linger on a spot until he’s satisfied with the color, his thumb tracing the bruise he just left while he watches your reaction in the mirror.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is obviously a fan of so-called claiming behaviors that border on obsessive. he finds it logical that because you are his, you should carry his scent and his marks. if you’re wearing a dress with an open back, you can expect him to spend the morning leaving a trail of biting kisses along your shoulder blades and the nape of your neck. he also likes the visual of his handprints lingering on your hips the next day; it’s a silent, physical receipt of how thoroughly he looked after you the night before.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a side to him that only comes out when you’re alone in his penthouse. after a shower, he’ll walk out with nothing but a low-slung towel, the water still dripping down the deep V of his abdomen. he knows exactly what he’s doing when he corners you against the kitchen counter, leaning in so the heat from his damp skin rolls off him in waves. he’ll take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back to expose your throat, and whisper, “i’ve been thinking about this since you arrived a while ago on the third set,” before his mouth finds yours with a hunger that is anything but ‘polite.’
;; boyfriend!ushijima finds your reactions to his wealth almost as endearing as your reactions to his touch. he’ll buy you silk lingerie that costs more than a car just because he ‘wondered how the fabric would feel against your skin’ under his hands. he’ll help you dress, his large fingers fumbling slightly with delicate clasps, but he’ll inevitably end up unzipping it halfway through because the sight of you in something he bought specifically to take off you is too much for even his legendary self-control to handle.
;; boyfriend!ushijima gets incredibly possessive when you wear his dress shirts. because he’s so broad, the fabric hangs off you, barely covering what it needs to. he’ll watch you walk across the room, his eyes tracking the way the hem rides up, and he’ll suddenly lose all interest in whatever he was doing. he’ll catch you by the wrist as you pass, pulling you onto his lap, his hands sliding underneath the fabric to find bare skin. “i think,” he’ll murmur against your neck, “that you look better without this.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has zero stamina issues. he treats intimacy like a marathon, not a sprint. he’s methodical, patient, and incredibly thorough. he’ll keep you awake until the early hours of the morning, his body moving with a powerful, rhythmic precision that reminds you he’s a professional athlete. just when you think you’re finished, he’ll flip you over, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, and whisper, “done? i’m nowhere near done with you yet, my love.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima aftercare is a masterclass in silent devotion. once he’s thoroughly exhausted you, he becomes a gentle giant. he’ll carry you to the bath, his arms never wavering despite the late hour, and wash you with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. he’ll wrap you in one of his oversized robes, tuck you into the high-thread-count sheets, and pull you flush against his chest. he likes it when you fall asleep while he’s still inside you, his hand resting heavy and protective over your heart, marking the rhythm of the only person who can make the great ushijima wakatoshi weak in the knees.
n: oh i’m FREAKED out 🙉🙉 just something to feed my babies while i rest for a bit.
Wakatoshi Ushijima, who takes such good care of you, it almost makes you feel bad sometimes.
His love language is definitely acts of service and he just loves handling everything for you.
In his eyes, you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing because that’s what he’s for.
Grocery shopping? He knows you don’t like the fuss of crowded stores, plus he already has all your favorites memorized. He even notices when you’re running low on things before you do!
Tired? He loves carrying you, like genuinely loves it, so the second you even hint that your feet hurt he’s already crouching slightly in front of you telling you to hop on, little smile gracing his lips.
Don’t wanna drive? He prefers having you as his pretty little passenger anyway, one hand resting on your thigh while he drives, quietly glancing over at you every now and then just to make sure you’re comfortable. Plus, who would DJ?
Most of the things he does for you aren’t even intentional anymore, just instinct. He automatically walks on the outside of the sidewalk, keeps extra hair ties and lip balm on him “just in case,” always notices when you’re overwhelmed or ready to leave.
One time, you make the mistake of jokingly calling yourself spoiled after he carries both you and all the grocery bags into the apartment without letting you touch a single thing.
He genuinely stops in his tracks, gives you the most confused look you’ve ever seen, and simply goes, “Isn’t that how it should be?”
Like the idea of not taking care of you literally doesn’t make sense to him.
He doesn’t do things because he feels obligated to, he does them because loving you makes him want to make your life easier in every way possible.
He’s not overly verbal or dramatic with affections and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. Talkings not his strong suit (really, he’d rather listen to you talk all day anyway).
But showing you?
That he can do.
In a hundred quiet little ways every single day.
Through warm food waiting for you when you get home, the silly moments filled with laughter reserved just for you, always making sure you get home safe, and every tiny thing he remembers about you without fail.
His love is dependable, quiet, and beautifully overwhelming all at once.
He silently reminds you every single day, that you’re not too much to handle. He’s always got you covered, like it’s just second nature to him.
————————————————————————
A/N: I ❤️ big beefy men, toshi I need to nibble on u plz
seijoh4 minus iwaizumi traps you in your own apartment so they could gift you to iwaizumi.
wc: 1.4k, no idc if them living tgt don’t make sense.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY IWA-CHAN :3
the scent of oikawa’s overpriced cologne was the first indicator that security had been breached. the second indicator was the colossal, neon-pink satin ribbon currently being looped around your torso with the frantic urgency of a group of teenagers trying to wrap a fragile porcelain vase before their parents got home.
“hold still, y/n-chan! if the bow isn’t symmetrical, the entire aesthetic integrity of the birthday surprise is compromised!” oikawa hissed, his fingers flying through the silky fabric as he knotted it around your waist.
“you’re going to suffocate her, you idiot,” matsukawa muttered from the corner, leaning against your kitchen counter while casually eating one of your strawberries. “and if she dies, iwaizumi will literally liquefy our bones and drink them like a protein shake.”
“i’m executing a flawless vision!” oikawa protested, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
you were sitting on your own living room rug, thoroughly bound from the waist up in a massive, glossy pink bow. you looked like a very expensive, slightly confused gift basket. the aoba johsai third-years had broken into your apartment exactly twenty minutes ago under the guise of ‘intelligent birthday operations,’ and instead of screaming for help, you had mostly just been impressed by how fast hanamaki could tie a double-knot.
“honestly, i feel like a fancy ham,” you said, shifting slightly to see if you could move your arms. you couldn’t. they were pinned quite securely to your sides. “is the candlelit dinner really necessary if i can’t even pick up a fork?”
“iwa-chan will feed you,” oikawa said, waving his hand dismissively as he lit the final tea light on your coffee table. they had cleared away your textbooks, replaced them with a white tablecloth, and ordered an obscene amount of high-end takeout. “in fact, he will probably view this as the greatest day of his entire mortal existence. now, quiet! i hear his footsteps. everyone, to the balcony!”
in a flurry of squeaking sneakers and hushed arguments about who was stepping on whose feet, the three boys scrambled out through your glass doors, shutting the curtains behind them just as the front doorknob jiggled.
the door swung open.
iwaizumi stepped into the apartment, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowed in that permanent, default scowl he wore whenever he had been left alone with oikawa for more than five minutes. he was carrying his gym bag, looking thoroughly exhausted by the mere concept of his own birth anniversary.
“oikawa, if you hid my keys in the bushes again, i’m going to—”
he stopped dead in his tracks.
the apartment was dimly lit, glowing with the soft, flickering warmth of a dozen tiny candles. the scent of cherry blossoms and spicy takeout filled the air. and there, sitting precisely in the center of the room, was you. wrapped in a giant pink bow like a prize-winning show pony.
iwaizumi’s brain stalled. his brain completely derailed, flew off the tracks, and exploded into a spectacular fireball of adoration. his gym bag slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. his eyes dilated so fast they looked entirely black, his chest heaving as his lungs suddenly forgot how to extract oxygen from the atmosphere.
“hey,” you said softly, giving him a little helpless wiggle of your shoulders. “happy birthday.”
the sound of your voice seemed to snap a cord inside him. iwaizumi was across the room in a fraction of a second, dropping to his knees before you with a force that rattled the floorboards. his hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, utterly terrified of touching you too hard but looking so intensely starved for your presence that it was borderline feral.
“what did they do to you?” his voice was a raw, low rasp, thick with a terrifying amount of protective instinct. his fingers immediately went to the knot of the ribbon, his knuckles brushing against your ribs, sending a massive jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “are you hurt? did that dumbass hurt you? i’ll kill him. i’ll bury him in the school yard.”
“i’m fine, i promise,” you giggled, the sound light and bubbly in the quiet room. “they didn’t hurt me at all. oikawa was very specific about not wrinkling my shirt. they wanted to give you a proper present.”
iwaizumi’s gaze locked onto yours, and the sheer, crushing weight of his devotion was enough to make your breath catch. he looked at you the way an ancient, desperate traveler might look at an oasis after a century in the desert. there’s a terrifying, beautiful affection in his eyes—a silent admission that you held his entire heart in your hands, and if you squeezed even a little bit, he would gladly disintegrate into dust for you.
“you’re the only present i want,” he muttered, his voice dropping so deep it resonated in your chest. his thumbs stroked over the fabric of the ribbon, his eyes tracking the line of the pink silk up to your collarbone, before snapping back to your lips with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. “you shouldn’t be wrapped up like this. it makes me want to lock you in this room and never let anyone else look at you again.”
your heart did a violent, joyful flip-flop against your ribs. “is that a threat, iwaizumi?”
“it’s a promise that once it happens again, i won’t hold back,” he growled softly, finally tugging the golden knot loose.
the ribbon slithered off your shoulders like water, pooling around your hips in a mess of pink satin. the moment your arms were free, iwaizumi didn’t waste another millisecond. he surged forward, his massive, calloused hands framing your face with a tenderness that completely contradicted his terrifying expression. his palms were warm, his thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones as if he were trying to memorize the texture of your skin for the rest of eternity.
when his lips met yours, it was less of a casual kiss and more of a total spiritual surrender.
he kissed you with desperate, heavy hunger, his mouth moving over yours with a frantic need to consume and be consumed. it was a bruising, deeply romantic sort of worship. he groaned against your mouth, his fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck to pull you even closer, erasing every single millimeter of space between your bodies.
you wrapped your newly freed arms around his neck, pulling yourself up into his lap. he welcomed the weight instantly, his strong beefy arms locking around your waist like iron bands, anchoring you to him as if he were terrified you might evaporate into thin air if he loosened his grip by a single fraction.
“god, you taste so good,” he mumbled against your lips, peppering short, hard kisses along your jawline, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “i’m losing my mind. you’re going to kill me one day, i swear to god.”
“you’re doing great for a dead guy,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the crisp, comforting scent of sweat and laundry detergent that was uniquely him. you nipped gently at his earlobe, feeling the sudden, violent shudder that went through his massive frame.
“don’t do that unless you want this table knocked over,” he warned, his voice incredibly thick as his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin through your clothes with a possessive strength that made your toes curl. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with a liquid, molten heat. “i mean it. i’m so crazy about you it’s actually making me sick.”
“good,” you said, reaching up to smooth down the unruly spikes of his dark hair, your fingers lingering on his forehead. “because i’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”
he stared at you, his expression softening into something so purely, profoundly tender that it looked almost painful for him to hold. he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he just breathed you in, his thumbs tracing slow, heavy circles against your waist.
“happy birthday, hajime.”
“it’s a happy birthday now,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering seal of absolute devotion.
from the balcony, a faint, muffled snicker broke the silence, followed by the distinct sound of oikawa being violently elbowed in the ribs by matsukawa.
iwaizumi didn’t even open his eyes, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction more as a small, wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “ignore them. if they stay out there long enough, they’ll freeze, and then i can throw them into the trash incinerator tomorrow morning.”
n: sweet, sweet iwa. happy birthday :3
i have a discord server haha hi guys :3 we got a tag thanks to eme, soup, and maddy !
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𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.8k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ my first for posting kita 💗 hope i did him justice
● requested ☆
the two of you have been dating for six months, completely in secret because you didn't want the miya twins making your life a living hell, but, kita.. well, kita's good.
but he doesn't actually know how to hide things.
or- maybe he does, and reveals them on purpose. but you'll never know.
he doesn't lie, he doesn't sneak around, and he treats your relationship with that same discipline that he treats everything else in his life.
another thing kita doesn't do is 'the down low'. to him, if a thing exists, it should be acknowledged.
you've already had to stop him from carrying your heavy bags three times this week, giving him a frantic, wide eyed glare until he slowly let go and walked away with a slightly puzzled frown.
today, you're standing at the long folding tables in the back of what you'd call the dining room, helping the other managers of various teams chop vegetables for dinner, and you can clearly see him through the window.
kita's out by the gravel path, systematically lining up everyone's shoes by size and team.
"the inarizaki captain is kind of intense, isn't he?" yachi says softly, dropping a handful of grated carrots into a massive metal pot next to you. she follows your eyes to where they're glancing out the window, shivering a little. "every time i walk past him, i feel like i'm about to get graded on my posture. he doesn't even.. yell, he just kinda.. looks at people. it's like, being judged by a very polite spirit."
you keep your head down, focusing entirely on the onion you are dicing so she doesn't see your eyes darting toward him again. "well, someone has to keep their team from burning the building down. he's just being thorough. that's how he is."
"no, it's more than that," tsukishima says, suddenly appearing behind the table to grab a stack of water pitchers.
he leans against the huge fridge, looking down at you with that obnoxious, half lidded stare that you've learned means he's figured something out and is going to torture you with it. "he's been thorough about our bench specifically. i. noticed he spent ten minutes this morning, fixing the loose hinge on our equipment trunk."
"he was just being hel‐"
"and yesterday, he spent his break neatly folding the karasuno bibs that tanaka left in a pile. it's almost like he has a personal investment in making sure our team runs smoothly.." he sidles a glance at you, lips quirking into a smirk. "or.. maybe just our manager."
your hand slips slightly on the knife, and you have to take a slow breath to keep from turning pink. "he just likes order."
tsukishima lets out a short laugh, apparently satisfied by your reaction, and strolls out of the kitchen.
but not before muttering roguishly, "you seem to know him a great deal."
inhaling deeply, you try to shake it off. he knows nothing, he's just trying to get a rise out of you, you tell yourself, but..
"hey," yachi smiles at you. "ignore him, he's nothing but a pain in the butt sometimes." she scrunches her nose up in an endearing way before nudging your side.
then her eyes widen with horror. "oh, i shouldn't have done that! you're older than me- my senpai! we're not close enough to- to nudge- i'm so sorry- i didn't even- we're not friends.. no! that came out wrong- i–"
you burst out laughing, setting your knife down. this shuts up the rambling girl, who has a small hand clamped over her mouth, a stray carrot danging from in between her middle and ring finger.
"we're friends, yachi. you don't have to panic, you could run me over and it'd be fine." you pause. "okay, maybe not to that extent, but you know what i mean." you nudge her back to show it's okay.
yachi slowly lowers her hand. then she beams at you.
ten minutes later, after your lovely conversation with yachi, the room fills up with a wave of hungry hungry hippos high school boys.
you're standing by the rice cookers, handing out bowls to the massive forming line, when kita shinsuke, handsome kita shinsuke, your boyfriend kita shinsuke, in all his glory, walks in.
he's already freshly showered, unlike most likely many of the other boys, his white and black hair damp and perfectly combed, wearing his inarizaki track pants and a plain white t-shirt.
kita doesn't join the loud, chaotic swarm around the miya twins, though. he walks straight up to the end of the line, waiting his turn patiently.
when he gets to you, you try to keep your expression completely blank as you scoop a portion of rice into a bowl and hand it to him. "here you go, kita-san."
but kita doesn't take the bowl immediately. instead, he stares down at your hands, eyes narrowing as he notices the tiny bandaid wrapped around your thumb – the result of a situation with a dull peeler an hour ago.
shit. you know what’s about to happen. you know him far too well.
without a word, he reaches out, takes hold of your wrist with his firm grip, and pulls your hand up to eye level inspect it.
and you seem to have the best luck in the world, because it's inarizaki and karasuno who are closest to you right now. tanaka, who's in the middle of shoving three pieces of chicken into his mouth, stops mid chew, his eyes and cheeks bulging in disbelief.
"shinsuke," you hiss under your breath as you try to gently tug your wrist back. kita doesn't let go, his thumb just pressing lightly against the back of your hand to keep it still. "what are you doing? people– no, everyone– is looking."
"you used the wrong ointment for a kitchen cut," kita says, still eyeing the cut. he completely ignores the fact that almost the whole of karasuno and inarizaki have stopped talking to stare at him and you. "this is a standard plastic bandage. it breathes too much, and you didn't apply an antiseptic. i know you, y/n. the skin on your hands gets dry quickly in the winter, so if you don't treat it properly, the cut will split again when you handle the cold water bottles later."
"shin, i'm fine, really, it's just a tiny scratch," you murmur, your face burning so hot you're worried you might actually pass out right into the rice cooker. you give him a desperately pleading look, but kita's face doesn't change, remaining firm.
"it isn't just a scratch," he corrects you calmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with honesty. there's something else in there, too. "i told you yesterday that the equipment in the kitchens here are poorly maintained."
"shinsuke–"
"i have the proper medical salve and the waterproof zinc tape in my room. come with me after you finish so i can wrap it correctly." kita finishes, looking up to meet your eyes and smiling softly.
yep. dead silence follows. dead you too after that.
"in... his room?" you hear kageyama ask, holding an empty plate he's evidently already finished (no surprise there) and looking genuinely horrified, like his brain is trying to process a complex mathematical formula that doesn't make sense. (although for him.. more like an incredibly easy question). "why would l/n-san go to the inarizaki captain's room? is this a tactic to weaken our game?"
tsukishima sighs from his spot next to yamaguchi. "it's always volleyball with the king."
sugawara discreetly puts more food on tsukki's plate bc my boy needs to eat more poor guy
you're about to retort when atsumu suddenly drops his chopsticks onto his tray with a loud clatter, pointing a finger at his captain.
"aha! i knew it! i bloody knew it! you've been smellin' like this sweet floral laundry soap for months, kita-san! you've been sneaking around with her, haven't ya?!"
osamu doesn't even look up from his food, chewing slowly. "shut up, 'tsumu. everyone knew except you. you're just blind. right, sunarin?"
atsumu squawks. "oh, you–"
"wait, hold on a minute!" tanaka roars, finally swallowing his chicken and slamming his fists on the table, standing up so fast his chair screeches against the floor. "what do you mean sneaking around?! our manager? with him?! he looks like he's never broken a single rule in his entire life!"
nishinoya, who's next to him, swallows an equally as large bite of chicken and stands up as well. "we demand justice!"
sugawara is staring at you with his mouth slightly open, a slow, amused smile creeping onto his face as he puts the pieces together.
you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
you wince as you turn to look at kita, who is still holding your wrist and completely unmoved by the absolute uproar he has just caused. "shinsuke, please," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "i thought we were going to wait until after to tell people."
kita lets go of your wrist, finally taking the rice bowl from your hands, but his expression doesn't change. "i really didn't see the purpose in making a whole grand announcement, y/n. i'm yours, and you mine, that's all that's important. i thought about it last night."
he.. kita..
fuck. could this man be any more perfect?
"besides, you're injured, and it's my responsibility as your boyfriend to make sure you are taken care of. i'm not ashamed of that fact."
kita turns his gaze to daichi, seated next to sugawara, giving your captain a polite and respectful nod. "sawamura-san. i'll ensure she returns to your share of the rooms before curfew. she requires proper attention tonight."
daichi merely blinks, left eye twitching slightly as he takes in the sheer authority radiating off the boy. "uh.. right. just... make sure she's back by then, kita-san."
"of course, good results need proper rest, after all," kita replies simply. he turns back to you, voice softening. "eat your dinner before the rice gets cold. i'll wait for you by the wash stations, okay?"
when he gets your nod, he smiles again, and walks away to join his table, leaving you standing there in shock (and fantasising about all the ways you're gonna show your gratitude to him later) while tanaka and nishinoya, the dynamic duo, weep out loud about the mole amongst them, and atsumu starts loudly demanding to know who asked out who.
you sigh and drag a weary hand down your face, knowing that the rest of this camp is going to be a very long, very loud nightmare.
but you'll have kita.
tsukishima is going to remain that one guy who's incredibly observant and a pain in our asshole for probably most of them LMAO (apart from his, of course)
taglist 01. ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form )
brushing your teeth with pro hero bakugo and your daughter
“papa, mama says you have a bedtime too, is that true?,” asks your daughter, cute little cherub, genuinely confused.
katsuki bakugo groans, body weak from all the hero work.
“yeah, an hour after yours,” replies katsuki.
just then, your princesses eyes go big and mouth drops, truly amused at the realisation her high and mighty dad goes to bed so early.
she puts her fingers on his cheeks, tilting her head. katsuki returns the favour, holding her a little closer to him, her head laying on his chest.
“should we brush our teeth together then? it’s almost my bed time,” asks your daughter.
“whatever you want princess”
they both go to the bathroom, but just then your daughter motions you over to come brush your teeth with them too.
“mama, you too!,”
you walk up to the two of them, your daughter a total carbon copy of katsuki. did your genes even try? they both go to put the toothpaste on their brushes - katsuki’s electric one, and your daughter with her hello kitty one.
your daughter grabs out your toothbrush too, putting a bit too much on the brush, and hands it to you with the most endearing smile ever.
“oh thank you, sweetheart”
katsuki smiles in between the motion of brushing his teeth, usual tough boulder all gone to dust. his hands grab onto your waist, and he pulls you closer to him. even while brushing your teeth he’s clingy.
your daughter is sitting on the sink, exceptionally precise whilst brushing her teeth. as she goes to spit out the excess, her big curious eyes land on the sight that is you and katsuki blushing at each other.
“mama and papa are flirting!” yells your daughter.
— the idea of sugawara kōshi being a freak with the kindest smile and a pierced cock haunts me ｡𖦹°‧ᥫ᭡
mdni!
sugawara sensei, you sweet coworker, kind, polite, he listens to his students concerns and actually cares. you've heard the advice he gives out when he thinks no one is watching, how encouraging he can be. he helps the old teachers with the stuff they can't no longer do, like running extra errands for them; he's specially sweet to the elderly teacher who is about to retire, hana-san, a sweet woman who lost his husband and sugawara always takes the time to walk to her car.
sweet sugawara sensei and the slight crush you might have been denying cause it's not worth pursuing it because you'll be switching schools soon enough anyway, sweet sugawara sensei whose kind eyes have been eyeing you all night as you and the rest of your coworkers take a few drinks at the local izakaya.
you can feel the heat of his gaze as he takes a long sip of his beer, his dark penetrating eyes not missing a bit of the way you absentmindedly lick the rim of your glass.
sweet sugawara sensei turning out to be not so sweet once he has you back in his apartment, tongue rough and harsh as he presses your back against the wall, fingers desperate and firm on their grip at the nape of your head, angling your face in the perfect way as he kisses you, he's rutting into you with the desperation of a hungry animal, drinking in the way you moan at the way his other hand has begun teasing your nipples.
his mouth is devoid of that sweet patience, now he is pure filth and an edge of dark intent. "how pretty".
his hands find the warmth of your pussy, and his eyes glint with the eager mischief of man who has been thinking about bending you over his lap since the day he first laid eyes on you.
his fingers are cold when they meet with the damp heat of your core. "you're already so wet for me, do you have any idea how much I've been wondering what kind of face you'd make when I finally got my hands on you?"
his thumb softly caresses your bud, a soft tentative touch that has your aching core throbbing and makes you arch into his touch, his eyes light up at the sight, utterly enjoying how sensitive you are.
when he takes his cock out of his pants you can't help the surprised gasp, he doesn't only have the prettiest cock you've ever seen, but it curves upwards in a delicious way and the thick vein at the underside throbs with excitement. but that's not what makes you gasp, is the shiny metal piece on the tip of his head, the prince albert kind if your little knowledge on the topic is not failing you.
sweet sugawara sensei who smiles at you so warmly, teasing your clit as he rubs the cold metal against your clit, fingers digging at the soft flesh of your waist for leverage as he completely savors the way you unravel at his pace, at his teasing. "do you like the way that feels? I had a feeling—" his voice, so driven and low against your ear halts, the friction of your wet folds tugging at the sensitive head of his cock making him lose his breath for a second, your hips are moving on their own, trying to match his pace and retrieve the lost friction, sugawara’s eyes darken and the small chuckle he lets out sounds like a threat; god, you are so hot.
"i can't wait to see what kind of face you'll make once I'm in deep inside you, you gonna be able to take it, right?"
you nod, too hazed out by the perfect stimulation and the perfect assault at your nipples by his calloused fingers.
sweet sugawara sensei who seems to not be so sweet anymore, his mouth is an obscene declaration of all his perversions and his tongue is salacious on his marking intent.
"i think you can beg" you hold onto his shoulders trying to find some leverage from the way he keeps rubbing against your aching clit, you look out for his face. your lips finding his again, unable to keep listening to his words without giving into his demands; you have the terrifying feeling he would be able to make good on his threats.
he lets you hide your moan on the wet kiss you're sharing, he doesn't mind waiting, he doesn't mind taking his time, actually, he is really looking forward to being able to take his sweet time with you, drive you to the point when you can no longer hide, when you'll be sobbing and begging from the stretch of his cockkmolding you around his cadence, around his size, until all you can see and think about is him.
“you’re going to look so pretty when i finally have you begging”.
play fighting w your best friend atsumu and things are innocent enough at the start—just some light hits and soft nudges.
but things start to get a little more intense, a heavy hand here, and rough grab there, til he’s manhandling you while you laugh and squeal for him to stop, slapping at his wandering hands.
then he’s got you under him, you’re both breathing a lil heavier than you were at the start. there may be some bruising tomorrow, but it’s nothing the two of you can’t handle.
you decide to be cheeky and pinch at him, til he’s laughing telling you to stop being annoying, frantically reaching for your hands.
he’s got one of your wrists in his hands, the other twisted in the front of your shirt. then his eyes are wandering, and his breath catches a lil.
the way you’re sprawled out beneath him, his hips slotted against yours. he’s hyperaware of the heat radiating off your body, the skin that peeks out where your shirt has ridden up.
and you’re still trying to catch your breath, not paying him any mind. meanwhile, he’s shaking a bit, pupils expanding, and suddenly you don’t look like his best friend anymore.
a/n: i love making smau's and i absolutely agree with everyone who says atsumu would be the biggest loverboy ever. so here's a bunch of texts i think he'd send hahah
#bringbackchalantmen
pretend this takes place in the timeskip and for some of them they're in different places and timezones :3
a tiny little writing portion included!
BRO THE ERRORS WITH THE EMOJIS ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME im so sorry about those
your tv was still running, showing the two interviewers starting to wrap up. "thanks for tuning in, ladies and gentlemen-" "WAIT! PLEASE!" oh no. you knew that voice. suddenly, the familiar face stood in front of the camera, a little too close.
he backed up, panting slightly, staring right at the camera as he practically rapped, saying, "everything i said about my girlfriend being unfortunately nonchalant was a lie. a complete lie. she can be nonchalant, chalant, whatever's in between. and i'm so grateful for her and the way she is. she's the most important person to me in this whole world, and baby, if you're watching, i'm so, so sorry. please forgive me. i love you so much. don't forget to water your plants. yeah, i remembered you telling me. aren't i such a good boyfriend? i love you. i'll see you soon."
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pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x surgeon!reader
summary: a slice of life in the ED between the chief attending who becomes a part time babysitter, and the surgeon currently in search of a missing child.
word count: 1k!
warnings: fluffff, ooc robby?, reader has a niece named Kathy, miscommunication (if you squint) more than friends to lovers!robby and reader.
a/n: here goes another one for you guysss! i had fun writing this despite the fact that i wrote this while having way too many things to do in college rn. and, yep the second half of this fic will be a seperate one, since tonal wise it's a huge shift. hope you enjoy this one!
Robby was hunched over the desk at central finishing up some of your patient charts when he suddenly felt a stubborn tug on his pant leg.
“Da-da.”
Robby went rigid, his diligent typing immediately coming at a halt. His head sharply turned to his left and there near his thigh was a…little girl. Who just called him Da-da.
He quickly looked around the ED, eyes carefully scanning everyone and everything for a possible parent or at least someone who looks like they’re looking for their missing child, but the usual chaos of the ER only greeted him back.
Please not another Jane Doe. He thought to himself before going down on one knee to be level with her height.
“Hey, sweetheart.” he greeted her with all the softness he could muster, and the way she so easily beamed when he spoke disarmed him. This kid barely knew who he was, approached him and decided she actually did. Just like that, she completely trusts him.
The second she spoke again he’s reminded of why.
“Da-da!” she grinned, as if to say I found you!.
“Oh-ho! I am not your da-da, but we will look for him and mama, because they are mostly panicking right now, and we don’t want that.” Robby manages a chuckle as he fixes up her overalls, smoothing the material once over before asking. “What’s your name?”
“Kathy.” she replied.
“Kathy, that’s a pretty name.” Robby nods, his hand settling back down to his knee, he’s going to regret being on his knees later but he didn’t really want to scare a child by towering over them.
“I’m Robby.”
“Robby?” Kathy tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowing before she insisted. “No, you da-da.”
“Okay, very persistent.” Robby rubs the back of his neck, his eyes now looking for Dana at the hub. “Seems like there’s no convincing you, so for now, I’m da-da.”
Robby slowly stood up, his hands hooking themselves underneath Kathy’s arm to carry her on his hip. Kathy wasted no time tucking herself on his side.
“Da-da doctor!” Kathy’s hands find the stethoscope around his neck and pulls at it. “Da-da help people.”
“Yeah, that’s what I do, sweetheart. I fix people.” Robby only nods at her antics as he takes off his stethoscope and puts it around her neck instead, letting the child find entertainment in what she sees in him.
Robby catches Dana’s eyes as he walks towards the hub, her eyes drifting to the little girl in his arms. The questions didn’t need to be asked. Robby just answered them.
“Can you please inform everyone that there’s a child in the ED right now,” Robby whispers to Dana. “This is Kathy, probably 2 years old. No parents or guardians in sight, she wandered in and called me da-da.”
“Congratulations, father of the year.” Dana snorted, her eyes softening around the edges. Her hand reached out to squeeze Kathy’s arm, the child still focused on playing with Robby’s stethoscope.
“You think she was abandoned?” Dana asked, her brows etched with worry.
“She has a visitor pass.” Robby held her badge to Dana. “Her parents must be here somewhere.”
“Okay, I’ll pass it along. You keep looking.”
Well, fortunately for Robby, he didn’t have to look anymore.
“Kathy!” your voice rings out across the ER, the surgical gown loose around your frame, the cap ajar, hair frazzled. You run across the department, the sight of her lifting the invisible weight in your chest.
You waste no time carrying her into your arms. Your hand clamped tightly around her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.
“Oh, my god! Kathy, where were you?” you placed her on the ground, and pulled her back from your embrace, eyes frantically searching for any indication that she might’ve been hurt, but nothing screamed alarm bells after your look over. “The nurses in the daycare didn’t know where you were— I thought something happened.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” you pulled her back into your arms, her arms wrapping around your neck in return.
“No sorry, Tete Y/N.” Kathy murmurs in your shoulder
“I see Da-da. Da-da here.” Kathy declares, pointing to Robby.
Horrified is an understatement.
“No, baby— Robby’s not Da-da. Elijah is in a conference in California right now.” You shook your head as you quickly corrected her, your hand coming down to her arms.
You turned to look at Robby, your face heating up with embarrassment. “Robby, I am so sorry. Her dad’s a doctor, and his littmann is similar to yours— I am truly sorry about that, she didn’t mean it.”
“But Da-da here. Da-da check Kathy’s heart.” Kathy says, pointing to Robby’s littmann around her neck.
Oh, if only the ground could swallow you right now.
You see something flash across his face at the mention of Kathy’s dad before he schools it his features into something more neutral.
“Kathy’s yours?” he asks quieter than you expected.
“No, no! She’s my niece.” you told him as you stood up, taking Kathy in your arms again. “Julia— my sister is out of town for the whole week so she's with me for a while.”
“Oh.” was the only thing he had, the information still processing in his head. “Okay— well, she’s a good kid. Might even have a future in medicine.”
“Trust me, she’s already giving her dad a run for his money.” you chuckled, your hand absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on her back.
“Thank you, Robby. For looking after her.” you muttered, your arms around Kathy tightening. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if she got hurt or— just…thank you.”
“No need to thank me. She was good company, weren’t you, Doctor Kathy?” Robby went to poke Kathy’s side, making her giggle.
“Well, we should go back upstairs.” you said, albeit hesitant to leave his department. But those MRI scans won’t just diagnose the patient by itself.
“I’ll walk you.” Robby offered, guiding you towards the elevator that would inevitably separate both of you once again. Isn’t that funny? Working in the same building for the same administration, and yet still so far apart from one another.
Once you stepped through, you told Kathy. “Say, bye bye, Robby.”
“Bye bye, Robby!” Kathy waved at him, smiling as widely as she could.
He can't freak out here, he can't freak out here...
He's freaking out.
You're sitting on his lap, the back of the car to whatever hell work had planned as a bonding experience for your team had made you need to sit on his lap, and everyone is doubled up, apart from the front two seats, so you're sitting on his lap. He's looking down and seeing your thighs do that thing he only caught glimpses of from under your desk when he came past. You were so warm, so perfectly settled on his lap, it's torture trying not to grab at your legs and dig his fingers into the fat of your thighs like he so desperately wants to.
It's not some rocky stretch or even the other in the car, but a sharp set of bends that has one of his hands pressing down on your legs as the other grabs the handle by the window, holding the two of you steady as the car and all the other in with you jostled and swayed with the turn.
When you Lena back into his chest it takes everything in him to not press his face against your shoulder, to nuzzle and rub his tusks against you as you settle back onto him in a more comfortable way. He doesn't move his hand, the wide splay of his fingers and palm against your thigh either ignored or welcomed by you, he's not sure which is worse but the feeling of being able to.touch you even just like this makes him want to groan. Just barely holding back the noise, covering it up with a clearing of his throat, looking anywhere but at you as he can feel you adjusting your position again, each shift making him more and more aware of how warm, how soft, how perfect you would feel against him properly.
Fuck.
He really hopes this ride ends soon, his starting to sweat hard, and there's not much more he can focus on to keep his cock from making a very large announcement of presence against your ass if this goes any longer...
Not even deep breaths can help him now, not with every inhale carrying whatever scent or body wash you wear.
This Princess Saves Herself @princessofthalia - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
