I Want His Babies, That's All Your Honour

the demon king i want

Pairing: Muzan x f!reader

Content: Your lover, the King of Demons gives you one last day in the sun before bringing you into his world of shadows for eternity. NSFW. penetrative sex, biting, blood, Muzan feeds from you. Yearning, longing, hopelessly besotted Muzan. Violence against a snail. Approx 1.8k words.

Ipomoea Alba

Muzan had already forgotten her name. She was a member of the fading nobility, elderly, desperately lonely, and all too susceptible to his smile. It had been far too easy to influence her, to convince her to denounce her descendants and leave her estate and its grounds to him.

The putrid taste of her blood and flesh lingered on the demon king's tongue, even as her name faded from his memory. Her face was little more than a blurred, grotesque caricature amongst a never ending haze of screaming visages.

And yet, he could recall the name of every flower in her garden. Frilly pink camellias, and vibrant blue morning glories which he had defiantly pried apart to witness their hue. Yellow roses, red lilies, carnations, primulas, apricots with their delicate pale petals. The garden was a paradise. 

And it was all for you. Yours for a single day. 

For what better place was there for his beloved to bid farewell to the sun? 

He watched you through the upstairs window, tucked away in the shadows, eyes narrowed against the agonizing glare. Seething and yearning in equal measure; furious at the world's audacity in denying him the light, for denying him you even if only for a few hours. 

He hadn't quite decided yet if he would keep you human a while longer. The temptation was most certainly there. You were soft and delicate; your mortal fragility delighted and disgusted him in equal measure. Change sickened him, and every day he saw it in you; blemishes caused by the sun, by the chemistry of your body, your mood, your dietary habits, your life. And every day your beauty somehow won out over repulsion. 

Muzan adored you, treasured you, loved you. You belonged to him, and he, against all sense and reason, belonged to you. 

And so it was agreed upon between you that he would bring you to the shadows, to reside with him in the Infinity Fortress. One way or another, you would dwell in darkness, never to leave his side.

Your only request had been one last day in the sun, a plea he saw no reason in denying. 

But as he watched you in the garden, separated from you by the confines of the house, his fists curled into white-peaked fists. The pointed tips of his fingernails drew blood from his palms as you turned your face to the blinding light, eyes closed, smile soft and content, as if receiving the kiss of a doting lover. The flowers he’d admired and sought for you brushed against your delighted form, petals caressing your tender skin with a gentleness he could never hope to replicate. 

And when you’d finished exploring your own personal paradise, you lay back on a gray stone bench and basked in the warmth. Muzan cursed the light then; it was everywhere on you; shimmering in your hair, darkening your skin, flushing your cheeks, altering the very chemistry of your body.

His rage shattered the looking glass propped in the corner, splintered the wood on the priceless antique vanity, and tore the curtains to tatters. He remained transfixed, unmoving, as the room disintegrated around him, the air palpitating with his jealousy. 

Oh how he despised it. That he could not join you in the sun. That you luxuriated in what he could not. Memories from a life centuries ago stung like papercuts pried apart and salted. Pathetically confined. Weak. Afraid to die. Repulsive. He had no sympathy for the boy he’d once been. No, only detestation. 

The moment the sun set Muzan broke free from his homely prison, filling his lungs with the cooling night air. Air as sweet as honey. Many of the blooms had closed for the night, shrinking from him as he passed them by and spitefully plucked them from their stems before tossing them to the dirt. If they saw fit to deny him their brilliance then they would perish. The king of demons would not be denied. 

And then he reached you, still slumbering on your bed of stone. Beautiful, foolish creature that you were, you’d slept through your final sunset. A tiny yellow-shelled snail made its slow path toward you, leaving a glittering trail of silver in its wake. Curling his lip, Muzan sat by your side, flicking the little pest away so hard it disintegrated mid-air. 

An ache bloomed inside his chest as he gazed down at you in your peaceful faux death. So lovely, so hauntingly fleeting. Instead of sickening him, your slow decay fascinated him, beautiful as the picked-clean skull of a deer. Sickness ran rampant, unbeknownst to you; some of it your body fought, some which would, in time, win and consume you. Unless…

Unless he made you a demon too. Goodness, the notion was tempting; to preserve you in a form more perfect than mortality could ever grant you. But then, he wondered, would you be you? Was it not your flawed self he adored? The creases, blemishes, your ridiculous little heart. A heart which would someday fail. 

Muzan cursed the world, because either way he would lose you. 

No… no it wasn’t the world he cursed, but the ridiculous notion of love. He should have been wholly immune to it, but you had bewitched him beyond sense or reason. You moved him in a way he had never thought possible. 

“Do you plan to sleep all night?” he asked gently, his voice rendering the chittering insects in the trees completely silent. A tender brush of his lips against your brow roused you from your slumber enough that you smiled, half-conscious, seeking the touch of his hand. Such fragile little bones, so trusting, your fingers interlaced with his as you drew a full breath and stretched luxuriously beneath him. 

“Muzan…” 

Coming from every other pair of mortal lips, his name was a curse. But not from you. You uttered it with such affection, the sound warm and lovely as it danced on your tongue. 

“You slept through the sunset, my love,” he said, tracing the peaks of your knuckles with the tip of his thumb. 

“I don’t mind.”

“No?” he said, pleasantly surprised. He’d half expected you to beg for another day.

“No,” you replied, sitting to kiss him, your lips so soft and tender, so very warm. “No sunset in the world could compare to spending my nights with you.”

A shiver ran down his spine as you threaded your fingers through his raven curls, pulling him closer to your body. And there was nothing he could do but yield to your unspoken wish. He was as helpless in your arms as any mortal man, so besotted that for a moment he quite forgot his nature. Even his intrinsic sense of self preservation dwindled to nothing as he  melted into your kiss, unaware at first that the soft, low moans filling his ears were coming from himself.

“You missed me,” you said, an unmistakable and endearing hint of affectionate teasing lacing your tone.

Muzan nodded, resting his brow against yours. “I’ve watched you all day, confined to the house when I should have been by your side.”

“I know. I could feel your eyes on me. It’s like knowing there’s a tiger stalking through the grass beside me. Lovely as you are, you make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.”

“Flatterer.” Oh how he adored you. With you he never had to alter his preferred appearance. You didn’t shy away from his fangs or his slitted pupils, you never shuddered when he talked about consuming human flesh. You were simply remarkable amongst your kind, beyond tolerable, and there was nothing for him to do but steal you away and keep you for himself. 

Your thighs wrapped so comfortingly around his hips, the heat of your core pulsing against him as he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and slid into you with a guttural moan. Fuck, the way you squeezed him, the way your cunt twitched as he suckled on your breast through the fabric of your dress. 

“We’ll walk in the sun together again,” you whispered against his ear as he pumped his hips desperately against you. 

“You and I for eternity,” he promised, wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your back arched as your head lolled back against the gray stone.

A cry somewhere between agony and ecstasy burst from you at the sharp pain of his teeth penetrating the flesh of your breast, followed by your wanton groan which mingled with his. Your blood flowed over his tongue as your fingers came to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you, tugging the curls at the back of his neck. And the knowledge that no one else in the world shared such intimacy willingly was not lost on him. 

You fed him gladly, welcoming the sting of his teeth, lost in bliss as he lapped at the shallow wound and toyed with your clit. His eyes shone crimson as he watched your rapture, captivated by your quickening breath, the pinch in your brow, the way your lips hung slack around your moans of pleasure. Your blood was ambrosia, the way you uttered his name divine. In centuries of living he had never found any evidence of gods until he found you. 

Your orgasm triggered his own, his muscles fluttering and pulsing as he came undone, groaning against your breast, his sterile spend flooding your cunt as your blood flowed between his lips in perfect synchronicity.

And when his pleasure subsided, he released you. Crimson stained the silk of your gown as he pulled back, your eyes half-closed and your smile so utterly heartwarming, for a moment he quite forgot he was a monster. 

“A fitting goodbye to mortality?” he asked. 

You simply nodded, too spent to speak. 

Too lovely to kill. Far too lovely to condemn to shadows. Muzan found himself shaking his head, “Of all the terrible things I’ve done and will do, taking you away from the sun, away from the flowers, may be the one thing which weighs on my conscience.”

His words sobered you instantly, and you sat up, tender hands holding his face as he avoided your pleading gaze. 

“Look up,” you told him. And he did.

On the trellis above you, white flowers bloomed, round and bright, radiant by the light of the moon. As delicate and lovely as any blossom whose petals unfurled by day. 

“Ipomoea Alba,” he said. “They’re called moonflowers.”

“And they only open up at night. They were closed all day, hiding from the sun, and now they’re open just for us.” The gentle caress of your hand against his cheek soothed his restless soul, the brush of your lips against his brow quelled his busy mind. “I’m ready. And I want it.”

And Muzan could never deny you. 

ahhhh so precious

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, kissing, praise, satoru is so so so soft for you he might as well be a cloud, man is head over head for you as he should be! Lots of kisses, several kisses this man can’t stop kissing you to save his life

“Finally! Hold me and never let me go please sweetheart I need to be held.” Falling onto his knees, wrapping his arms around you burying his face into your soft stomach.

Gliding your fingers through Satoru’s soft hair. He nuzzled his head, tightening his grasp. “You won’t have to take another step around the apartment without me.” Patting his head he freezes, pulling away with pink cheeks.

“Do that again!” Patting his head, leaning down kissing his forehead. “Can I be little spoon?” Slipping his blindfold off, peering up at you pleading.

Smiling at him, “All night long, how about we start that rom-com we’ve been talking about.” Satoru kisses your stomach, standing up sweeping you off his feet cradling you to his chest.

It’s easy to forget everything else in Satoru’s warm loving safe embrace. The outside world becomes meaningless, all that matters are Satoru’s sparkling blue eyes, his soft snow white hair and feeling of his soft undercut beneath your finger tips.

Satoru’s bright, goofy grin is makes your world brighter. “I love seeing you smile, it’s so beautiful and goofy.” Kissing his cheek, his cheeks turn from pink to red.

“I love makin’ ya blush just as much handsome.” He climbs into the bed, lay you down with care. Kissing your forehead, cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Grabbing his hand, kissing his palms. “I love how you’ve become my home. I was so lonely before you.” Gently kissing you, like he doesn’t want to break you. Putting all his sweet, tender passionate love into it.

You are so cherished and treasured, adored by him. He spent every second he could showing you.

Laying on top of you, his weight pushing you into the mattress. Sliding your fingers through his soft undercut into his long fluffy hair. Patting his head again, he pulls away with a large grin.

Kissing your cheek, “You’re my sugar.”

Kissing his nose, “You’re my sugarbear. I love you.”

Kissing your lips, “I love you too honey, let’s watch stupid idiots similar to ourselves fall for each other.” He sits up, watching you arrange your pillows. Grabbing the remote and pulling up the rom-com ‘Love is Infinite’.

Tugging his sweater off, setting it in the side table. Watching you get cozy, pulling the blanket aside and doing last minute adjustments to the pillow. Glancing over at him, “Something wrong?”

“Can’t I admire my lovely, sweet, charming, stunning fiancé?”

Oreo creampie m.list

my new year's gift ✨️

gojo is sure that he’s going to die today.

you’re gonna kill him, tsumiki’s gonna kill him. hell, megumi’s probably gonna kill him too.

once gojo finds him, that is.

the task had been simple: go to the mall and get a picture with the mall santa. easy. fool-proof. but he’d turned his back for thirty seconds to look at a nice shirt in a display, and now the brat’s nowhere to be seen.

he’d always been thankful that the seven year-old was relatively independent. it meant less work for him. but now it’s been fifteen minutes, he hasn’t seen that sea-urchin hair anywhere, and gojo’s now feeling the panic of a single, overworked parent in a mop commercial.

he shouldn’t have let you talk him out of the backpack leash. “it’s impossible to lose him now, he’s seven,” you’d said.

well, it was possible. bet you’re gonna feel real stupid when he says ‘i told you so.’

(stupid, amongst other things. anger might win out if gojo comes home alone, without even the picture with the knock-off santa.)

he slides his shades down every time a group of kids passes by, because maybe megumi’s made a friend and run off with another group of fellow delinquents? he hopes that’s the case.

a quick check to his watch confirms gojo’s now been searching for twenty minutes, and he’s really kinda worried. what if something had happened? he’s ready to call the police, the DA, maybe even nanamin—

“excuse me, sir?”

he whirls around to see a mall cop behind him, an almost laughable attempt of a stern look on his face and powdered sugar caught in his moustache. not exactly who he’d turn to right now, but he has a badge and probably has access to the intercom system.

“yeah?”

“we’ve been getting reports of a tall man with sunglasses staring at children. you’re going to need to come with me,” he says, almost boredly. there’s a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt that gojo could crumble into pieces with a flick of his wrist.

yet he blinks, brain short-circuiting as he processes rent-a-cop’s words. what?

“staring at children— i’ll have you know i’m a teacher!” kinda. “and that if anyone’s child is in danger, it’s probably mine!”

“sir,” he sighs, “could you just come with me?”

“my kid is missing,” he insists. “could you just help me out before literally everyone i know chews me out and i’m responsible for losing one of the greatest things to come out of his shit family?”

this man looks like he could honestly care less, but heaves a great sigh and turns around, gesturing for him to follow.

gojo trails after him, eyes still roving around for any sign of megumi until they get to what he assumes is a very sad, not very secure mall jail.

and sitting there in a little room with a flimsy lock, is fushiguro megumi.

“holy— holy shit!” he laughs, with relief, with amusement, he doesn’t know. he pounds on the glass, watching the kid’s eyes widen slightly. “that’s my kid! megumi!! what the hell did you do?”

“he got into a fight with the mall santa and kicked an elf in the family jewels,” the cop at the desk answered. “we called his guardian.”

gojo stares at him, brows furrowed. his phone hadn’t rung once! “but i’m his guar—”

“satoru.”

uh oh.

“hey!” he grins, whirling around to greet you with a nervous laugh and a kiss to the lips that you don’t reciprocate. “babe! what are you doing here?”

“i’m here to bail megumi out of mall jail,” you answer flatly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i asked you to do one thing for tsumiki. you just had to get a cute picture of her brother with santa claus. how are you going to tell her that he’s been banned from the mall until next year?”

the cop opens the door to let the little delinquent out.

megumi digs into his pants pocket, holding a crumpled photo out to you. “i went and got the picture when he left to look at clothes.”

the sorcerer withers under your glare as you take the photo, smoothing it out as best you can to take a look.

“megumi, this is a picture of you punching santa in the face.”

-

“hey, gojo-sensei, what’s this?” itadori asks, fishing a creased piece of paper from his wallet.

“i thought i told you to get my frozen yogurt stamp card,” he chuckles.

“you kept that?” megumi asks, staring at him in the rear view mirror.

“he made copies and sent it out as a christmas card,” you laugh from the passenger seat. “‘merry christmas from the fushigojos’”

“oh my god,” megumi groans. “you guys are so embarrassing.”

“we had to bail you out of jail.”

“fushiguro went to jail?” nobara gasps. “why didn’t you tell us this? you never tell us anything!”

“it was at a mall.”

“you were in a room that locked from the outside,” gojo quips. “sounds like jail to me.”

“let’s not forget the reason why he was there,” you grumble. “negligence.”

“you’re the one who said we didn’t need the backpack leash! i told you so.”

jack is everything i want 😩

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

im dead

deadpool gojo & wolverine nanami

i want this force of a man to give me his babies

Baby gojo reacts to: nanami!

idk if you did that already but just in case! Loved the last one too, thank you again sm! 🩵

“don’t— don’t paw at my glasses, please.”

nanami stares at the squirming baby almost apprehensively as he pins his little arms. “that’s not polite. here, you have to stay put.”

gojo has left his baby to him as he and you go on a date. why did he even agree? the clown told him both of you will be back before evening and you even apologized to him for the trouble. for old time’s sake, he relents.

“…?” baby tilts his head at him, and then he reaches out to his tie and grabs it. “waaa!”

“oh you.” nanami inwardly facepalms as the little thing happily plays with his tie. he’s about to reprimand him again when he realizes the kid is quiet as he fiddles with it. nanami decides to give in.

“at first glance you look calm but you resemble gojo greatly…” nanami sighs. “but of course, you’re his kid.”

baby turns to him as he smiles. “bwa?”

“nothing. grow up well, okay? don’t turn into your father too much.”

aww

Ultraman holding Emi's little hand and she squeezed it when they fixed her arm 😭

Shower

withering tree, grief lasts.

gojo x reader

summary:

after a particulary long and challenging battle, you're left with a fatal injury and decide to die peacefully at the place you realised you loved satoru.

cw: angst, you die bro, lots of hurt, grab tissues.

word count: 1.1k

————————————————————————

you watched from a distance. the relieved sighs, smiling faces, conversations with ease laced into them. you watched and smiled as you realised this would be the last time you'd be filled with such comfort. you didn't want to partake in the celebrations, so you leaned against an old tree, under the creeping shadows and watched from a distance.

there was no hope, no chance of life after the injury you had sustained; you made peace with that fact with tears in your eyes and a reluctant smile for solace. you knew of no other way to spend your final few moments than on this hill, under the same tree where you realised your feelings for him.

a bitter smile crept up on your face. him. the man you yearned for, for so long. the one who had always felt the same. all of that wasted time pining, waiting desperately for one another when the feelings had always been requited. if you had known then, how it would've ended, how you didn't make nearly enough memories together, you would've confessed much earlier, despite your doubts and anxieties.

now, you’re back where you started, rotting away, alone on this hill, as he enjoyed himself without your presence needed.

the idea that he was happy was enough to grant you peace when you died.

atleast, thats what you believed. you couldn't see the frantic white hair running from person to person asking if they had seen you. he could feel a piece of his heart breaking with each 'no' he had heard.

everything felt like one big joke. there was no way you didn’t make it out alive, he did everything he could to ensure your protection. but his sanity started to deteriorate as everyone has claimed they hadn’t seen you, leaving few possibilities to your location.

you had always taken it upon yourself to check on everyone you cared for, so it made no sense as to why no one had spoken to you.

his head ached as a single question thrummed against it. were you dead?

the thought made gojo's whole body tremble, his breath quicken and his mind hammer.

without you, he felt like an open wound, weakened and useless. what is the strongest without a will? without a reason. you were his reason, and he'd tear the world apart looking for you before he accepted your death.

taking a moment to breath and look around, when he finally saw it and realised. memories rushing back and bringing a pained smile to his face.

"i was here when i realised, 'toru." you had told him when you first got together. you told him how, every so often after you realised you had fallen in love with him, you'd come to this hill to empty your thoughts. seeing the sky and the stars at night and thinking of him, seeing the world below and realising that, whilst there are countless of people who had the potential to make you happy below this tiny hill, there was only one person that would ever complete you as well as he did.

"i thought you'd be here." he said, standing behind you, causing you to flinch at his sudden voice amongst the quiet you had got to used to. “i couldn’t celebrate without knowing where you were, because i knew you’d be miserable without my company.” he said jokingly and dramatically before noticing your lack or a response.

you sat with your hand over your injury, trying to cover the damage, refusing to ruin his mood yet your efforts of protecting him were futile.

he called out your name. "are you hurt? talk to me please." satoru begged, as he rushed down to where you sat, leaning on the same old, withering tree he recognised from your confession. he kneeled down in front of you, your eyes lacking life as his own were full of despair.

he noticed your wound and his eyes widened, panicking, he tried to help but both of you knew nothing could be done.

"i always knew i'd die here-"

"you are not dying, do you hear me?" he said in disbelief, trying to convince himself more than you. but most of all, he tried to convince nature to spare you from such a fate when you had years to come by his side.

"'toru look at me! i'm not leaving this hill alive, okay? i love you so, so much it hurts and- and i need you to understand-" you tried to reason but he cut you off once more.

"don't you fucking dare try and say goodbye. you can't leave me alone, i-" he tripped and stuttered over his words frustratedly as he continued to convince himself this wasn't the end. "i can't do this without you." he mumbled, voice laced with despair.

you lifted your hand up to caress his face and brush hair out of his eyes. you never liked seeing him cry. there was no feeling in the world that could compare to the one in which you saw the one you loved the most in pain because it feels like there is nothing you could do. watching him, feeling useless knowing that if you could take all the pain away from him and endure it yourself, you would without half a second of hesitation. but you couldn't, and that feeling felt like poison.

"please let me talk, satoru. no interuptions, just let me talk to you." you spluttered out weakly, your face, movements and voice were losing life with each passing second and deep down, satoru knew this, so he nodded, his face leaning into the touch of your hand as he gently cupped it, trying to drag out this last few moments. "each and every second with you has been more than what i have ever deserved. you're too fucking good for this satoru and you don't deserve it at all but i will always be here with you when you need me, when you're sick of me and when you feel alone because even through death you can't lose me. i can't tell you how much i have appreciated loving you and being able to love you." you smiled, going silent, though your eyes still looked into his own.

he leaned towards you, forehead against yours, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips as your tears mixed with his own for the final time. your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths becoming fainter and fainter with each second.

gojo pleaded you to keep yours eyes open, cradling your body closer to his own that shook as broken sobs were elicted from him as he lost yet another piece of himself.

he looked up at the darkened sky, thinking of you. thinking of everything he should’ve done differently. blaming himself for your final breath.

he’d come back to this same hill everyday, though he’d never look at the same sentimental tree as he did before.

no longer would it be associated with love, but grief of the one he lost.

note: cant proofread through the tears

reading up on the whole thing.

all the changes that are gonna happen now that you know who has been re-elected is disastrous. im not american, no where near north america, and i feel deeply for those people who did, are, and will suffer under his administration.

how did this even happen? why can't people see the irreparable damage he is gonna bring? what were the people thinking when they chose him?

'make america great again'??? how is this administration gonna achieve that? by reversing every political milestone that people fought so hard for?

my deepest sympathies goes to everyone who lives in america.

"the land of dreams", "the land of the free"? it's all just a pipe dream now.

charles darwin said "survival of the fittest", you know who says "survival of the white, the conservative, and the men"

stay safe 🙏

I’m going to kill myself and I wish I were joking but I truly am just…shocked. I hate this country. I fucking hate everything and everyone. I actually can’t believe this right now. Everything, EVERYTHING this country still has and any reputation or legitimacy the government may have is fucking gone. Everything is fucking gone. Everything is done.

The irony that this fucking man who got impeached twice and has 30+ felonies under his belt, ran the most scary and dangerous race with the worst possible policies, and still managed to fucking win. I don’t even have words to say, I’m just crying as I type this. I’m lucky to live in a “progressive” city, but even then people don’t know how fucked up things are for those in swing states and overall Republican states. The existence of people who voted against him are threats to their safety and livelihoods. We are going to be sent so far backwards this country won’t have anything left, and if you think we’ll be able to protest and mobilize under Trump I really hope you’re prepared to die because that’s what waiting for us when he uses military power against protestors.

This is the same man that said he wants to get rid of immigrants and birthright citizenship, as a first gen immigrant that’s a direct threat to me and my family’s livelihood in this country. We’re going to have a conservative majority for the next 50 years, and you can all kiss tumblr and everything else you hold dear goodbye. Food recalls, climate disaster will be sped up immensely, the entire Middle East is about to be a disaster and we can’t stop it, department of education is essentially done, police are getting full immunity to kill whoever they see fit but we know it’ll be black Americans. Women and LGBTQ people just lost whatever rights they have left and men will use that to their fucking advantage. And people who think this stops at 4 years aren’t thinking, he can easily change to extend the presidential term because now republicans have control of all three fucking branches of government, they can do whatever they want. Yes, it is that bad. The amount of violence that will take place within the next few days and after inauguration day will be immense, I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like.

Literally fuck white women who voted for Trump. Fuck Latinos who voted for Trump. Fuck first time male voters who voted for Trump. Fuck the Democratic Party for being pro genocide and caring too much about Republican voters. Fuck everyone and everything, and I truly wholeheartedly mean that. I have too many words and feelings that literally won’t fit the page, but all I can say is fuck you all.