#and the bottom surgery! That's why his arm is bandaged :)

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, “san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Title: “Secrets will be told” SERIES PART 6 FINAL PART

Need a Refresher? Here are the previous parts!

Part 1      

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne (from the show Gotham) and Female reader. BOTH BRUCE AND READER WILL BE 26-28 in this part.

Warnings: None; I did not proofread; I quickly skimmed through

Summary of series: Bruce Wayne was captivated when he met Y/N, and the feeling was mutual. Dating turned into being engaged and engaged to married. They knew each other’s secrets and told each other everything; they confided in one another. But once Y/N follows Bruce back to Gotham, he begins to change... He becomes secretive, is he having an affair? Y/N needs to find out the truth.

The sound of beeping made me open my eyes. I frantically looked around, and tubes were in my nose, and the heart rate monitor was beeping quickly. “Y/N, sweetie, please calm down..” My mom’s hands held mine, and I turned to look at her. 

I could feel a burning sensation in my hand, and I held my hand in front of my face. The palm of my hand was wrapped in a bandage, and the doctor walked in. “It’s about time you woke up, Mrs. Wayne. You’ve been asleep for three days now; we were starting to get worried.” he said, as he looked down at his clipboard.

“Do you remember anything that happened?” he asked and I leaned back into the pillows behind me. “I-I was kidnapped... By Jeremiah Valeska, and I was saved by..by...” I started to remember last night.

“Stay standing. Don’t pass out. Just focus on me.” he said, and I shook my head. “Please, just tell Bruce I love him. Tell him, I’m not mad. Don’t let him blame himself for.. for.. th-this.”

My lungs were burning, and it felt like they could no longer hold any air.  My legs began to shake, and before my eyes closed, I heard the batman say: “I love you too...” 

“It’s okay, we don’t need to go over everything right now. But I am advising you go to therapy when we get you home. What you went through was traumatic, and I think it would be a great help..” he said, and then he cleared his throat. “But let’s discuss what is currently wrong. Your oxygen levels were extremely low from breathing in all of the chemicals. Your hand-” he lifted up my hand and unwrapped it.

My hand was red and blistered, “You will have a permanent scar on you right hand.” I lifted my hand up and the chemical burn was in the shape of a “J”.  Of course, that bastard had to leave his mark.

The doctor grabbed my hand and wrapped it with a clean bandage. “But there are some corrective surgeries that can fix it. I can get something scheduled if you would like.” he said, and I shook my head.

“Where’s my husband? Where’s Bruce?” I asked, and my mom stood up. “He went home to take a shower. He will be back soon.” Her thumb massaged the top of my hand, and I sighed.

 “Why did you go to Metropolis?” my mother asked.

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry.” I said, as she pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m just so happy that you are going to be okay.” she whispered. 

The doctor picked up his clipboard, “Alright Mrs. Wayne. Your hand is all good to go. Now, I must advise you to get some rest. And if everything is good by tonight, I will consider letting you go home early.” he said before walking out of the door.

My mother and I sat there talking about her and my father’s recent trip, until she had to go home to clean up broken glass. I sat there staring at the bandage wrapped around my right hand. I began to unwrap the bandage and hissed at the stinging pain that shot through my entire arm. 

I stared at the raw, blistered skin. Of course, he left his mark on me. I started to cry at the site of it; I felt disgusting. I could still feel his lingering touch on my bottom lip, and the way he stared at me. I was supposed to be dead. Never has anyone wanted me dead, and I hoped that they put Jeremiah away. Because now, this felt like a game that was not going to end in my favor. 

A knock on my hospital room door tore my gaze away from my hand. Bruce stood there with a bouquet of roses. I wiped the tears from my face, and he quickly made his way over to me. “Y/N, I am so sorry about what happened. I wanted to be here when you woke up, but your mom made me go home and clean up.” he said.

He watched where my gaze went, and he looked down at my hand. “Let me wrap that up so it doesn’t get infected.” he said as he grabbed the bandages that were on the bedside table. I stared at him as he bandaged my hand, and he finally looked up at me. “We need to talk when we get home.” he said quietly, and I nodded. 

“About the divorce?” I asked, and he looked down at his hands. “If that is what you want, then yes. But I would really like for you to reconsider those divorce papers.” He spoke.

“Why would I do that?” I asked, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“We will talk about this when we get you home.” he said, and he stood up from his chair. “Right now, I’m going to let you rest.” 

An hour after Bruce had left, I had fallen asleep. 

“I want to be able to control your pain and how fast you die.” Jeremiah hissed as he dragged a knife that had the residue from the chemical down my arm. 

“Stop! Please, stop!” I cried out, and all he could do was laugh in my face. 

Slowly, he dragged the knife down my cheek, “I hate having to scar your pretty little face. Maybe if Bruce doesn’t want you after this, I will give you a chance. After all, you will look just...like....me.”

I felt a hand shake my shoulder and all I could do was scream “No! Please, get off of me!” Bruce’s hand pulled back from me. 

“Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just me.” he said, and I jumped into his arms. “Please don’t let him get me, Bruce.” I cried out, and his hand cupped the back of my head. He pulled me closer to him, “He’s not coming back, Y/N. It’s over. Jeremiah is dead.” 

I pulled away from Bruce’s chest, “He-He’s dead? Are you sure?” I asked and Bruce nodded. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

When we had gotten back to Wayne Manor, Alfred was smiling. “It is so good to have you back, Mrs. Wayne. Want me to fix you something to eat or drink?” he asked, and I shook my head.  

Bruce gave Alfred a small smile, “I think we need some time to talk, if you don’t mind Alfred.” 

Alfred handed Bruce something, but I didn’t see what it was. Bruce picked up my uninjured hand and led me to his study. “I know I said I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier if I just show you.” 

I watched him walk over to his desk and grab a remote, and he clicked a button, and a loud sound made the room tremble. I took a step back as the fireplace retracted into the wall, revealing a dark hallway with stairs. Bruce picked up my left hand and led me down the dark staircase. “Um.. This isn’t the part where you are actually going to murder me, right?” I asked and Bruce smiled.

“You watch way too much crime shows, Y/N.” he continued to lead me down the never-ending staircase, but a bright LED light was shining at the end of the hallway. He turned to face me, “Before we go any further, please let me explain and answer your questions. And if you still want a divorce after seeing all of this, I understand.”

I followed him into the blinding light, and after my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I gasped. A group of computers almost took up one entire wall, and a big black military looking car was on the opposite side. But Bruce led me to a glass case, and once we got close enough, I stopped dead in my tracks. 

It was the Batman suit. Bruce opened the case, and I pressed my left hand up against the chest of the suit. Memories of being carried out of Ace Chemicals replayed in my mind. 

When he spoke that night, his last words to me were “I love you too.” Those words were not spoken in the Batman’s voice, but in Bruce’s voice. The scars on Bruce’s back, the late nights of him not being home, and this is the reason why he bulked up. Bruce Wayne, my husband, is the Batman. 

I turned to Bruce with tears in my eyes, “It was you. You are the Batman?” 

Bruce nodded his head as tears ran down his cheeks. “I had to retaliate, Y/N. When I heard Jeremiah escaped Gotham, I couldn’t be a sitting duck anymore. It wasn’t just me anymore, I had to protect you.” he said.

“And that woman in your office? Who is she?” I questioned and Bruce sighed. “That woman was Selina Kyle. She was warning me about Jeremiah. She heard that he was coming for me, but she didn’t know when. But instead, he went for you.” he explained. 

“We have been friends for a very long time, Y/N. Nothing is or ever will go on between her and myself. She is the reason Jeremiah will never come for us again.” he whispered, and I lunged into Bruce’s arms.

“I was so scared that I was going to die, Bruce.” I cried into his chest. “But the last thing I thought of before I passed out, was you. And when I looked into the Batman’s eyes, I should have known they were yours.” 

Bruce’s arms tightened around me, “I can’t lie to you, Y/N, but things are not going to be easy. Now that you know I am Batman, this is going to make you a target.” he said as he pulled away from me and held my face in his hands. “I can’t give up being Batman now. Gotham needs me more than ever, and if you want to leave me, I won’t hold it against you.” 

“Because I will never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. A part of me knows I should have left you in the dark, and I should have signed those divorce papers.” he said as a tear slipped from his eye. “But another part of me, the selfish part of me, doesn’t want to lose you. I love you, Y/N. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. However, I will respect the decision that you make.” Bruce said as he pressed his forehead against mine. 

I took in a deep breath, “I don’t want a divorce, Bruce. I really don’t. But please, don’t keep any secrets from me.” I said quietly, and Bruce picked me up off of the ground. “No more secrets.” he said before pressing a kiss to my lips. 

“Mrs. Wayne, you are going to need these.” he said as he pulled my engagement ring and wedding band out of his pocket. Bruce slipped them onto my ring finger. 

A few weeks later, I was able to remove the bandage from my hand. This was the first time in weeks I had seen my bare hand. As I removed the bandage, I saw the dark red ‘J’ scar that would be a permanent mark. 

Bruce came into the bathroom and leaned against the door frame, “Are you alright?” he asked, and I closed my hand. “Yeah. I’m just trying to get used to this ugly scar.” I say and he wrapped his arms around me. 

“It won’t always be red. It should somewhat fade.” he said as opened my hand. He looked at the scar and sighed. “If I could have been there sooner.” he whispered, and I cupped his cheek. “Don’t go down that route, Bruce. I am just thankful you showed up when you did. Otherwise, things could have gotten worse.” 

He wrapped his arms around me, and I took in his scent. “Can I ask you something?” I asked, and Bruce nodded. “Will you train me, Bruce?” I asked and he pulled away from me. 

“Train you? For what?” 

“I don’t want to be that girl that was locked in a glass room, about to be murdered, Bruce. I don’t want to be the girl that is left with a scar as a reminder that I cannot protect myself.” I said and he tore his gaze away from me. “Please, Bruce?”

He stood there staring at the wall, and finally he answered. “Okay. You’re right. You need to be able to protect yourself. I will train you, but it’s not going to be easy.” 

That night, when we left “the batcave” after he told me was Batman, our lives had changed forever. I had to share the love of my life with everyone else in Gotham; they got the Dark Knight, and I got Bruce Wayne. The person I fell in love with at Princeton. 

He trained me just like he promised he would. Hell, I was so good at fighting that I was now known as the “Black Widow”. I fought right alongside my husband, helping keep the streets of Gotham safe.  

Then we adopted our first son, then our second, and then our third. Then Bruce found out he had a love child from before we met in college. And then we had a set of twins of our own. As a family, we had a pact, and that was never keep a secret. Because Secrets will always be told. 

----

I know, cheesy ending. But I hope you guys enjoyed this little mini-series. I had fun writing it, and at times it was challenging, but definitely worth it. Thank you to the readers who stuck it out until the very end of this series! 

(Also, I couldn’t figure out a superhero name. So I went with Black Widow, I mean, I always can picture Bruce with a Black Widow!Reader. I do not own the rights to Batman/Bruce Wayne, or the characters mentioned. I only own the story line. Nor do I own the rights to the hero name Black Widow).

XOXO

TAGLIST: @rl800 @auspicious-lilana @theclassicvinyldragon 

@moon-shampoo

[trixie-troubleby]

could you maybe write a fluffy t4t sportarobbie where one of them is recovering from top surgery?

Thanks for the prompt!!! I hope you like this!

Sportacus let out a sharp breath as a twinge of pain shot through his sides. In his pursuit of water he had forgotten one of the main rules for the beginning of his recovery. He forgot why he was staying with Robbie to begin with.

”Hey hey hey hey hey–“ Robbie rushed towards his boyfriend. “Stop it.” He scolded, smacking Sportacus’ arms that were beginning to reach to one of the higher shelves of the cabinets, where Robbie stored his cups.

“Sorry, sorry. I realized as–“ Sportacus tried to excuse himself.

“It’s another week before you can reach over your head.” Robbie said, reaching the top shelf with ease and grabbing a glass for Sportacus. “Ask for help.” He kissed the top of Sportacus’ head before moving to the fridge to fill the cup with water. “Go sit back down and relax.” He insisted.

Sportacus cracked a smile. “You know I’m not very good at that.”

“I will be right there to hold you down and make sure you don’t end up hurting yourself.” Robbie promised. He glanced over his shoulder at the elf who still hadn’t moved. He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Sportadork. Before I go tell the kids what a terrible patient you are.” He said, passing the cup of water over to Sportacus.

Sportacus smiled slightly. “I really am trying. I forgot until it started hurting.” He walked over to the orange couch Robbie had magicked up, putting his water on the side table before falling into the fluff.

Robbie let out another huff, grabbing a thick knitted blanket and draping it over Sportacus. He rested himself gently against Sportacus’ side. Not enough weight or pressure to hurt, but enough that he was there. That Sportacus knew he was there.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” Sportacus said, resting his head on Robbie’s shoulder.

Robbie scoffed. “As if there was any option. Although I bet if you didn’t have me to stop you, you’d try to drag yourself up that rope ladder immediately once you woke up.” Robbie poked his side, just below the bandages.

Sportacus smiled, “Thank you anyways.”

“You can thank me by taking care of yourself. By letting me take care of you.” Robbie insisted.

Sportacus turned his head to kiss Robbie. Just a gentle pressing of lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Robbie said. His hand lightly traced down to where the bottom of the bandage was hidden under his shirt. He traced his fingers along the edge. “Does it hurt?” Robbie asked quietly.

“No. I’m alright.” Sportacus covered Robbie’s hand with his own.

“You’re braver than I am.” Robbie said, looking down at his own chest. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Everyone transitions in their own way, in their own pace.” Sportacus said, so quickly it felt like an automatic response. So quickly he didn’t even register the words before they were out.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Sorry.” Sportacus said with a small smile. “But even if the words are force of habit, it doesn’t mean they’re false.”

Robbie let out a small amused breath. “Yeah, no, I know.” He smiled slightly. “I’m not being down on myself either, by the way.” Robbie said. “It’s not just that getting into a knife fight while asleep is a scary idea–“ Sportacus laughed. Robbie smiled. “I still use my tits on occasion.” He said lightly. “I’d spend all that money getting rid of them only to spend more money to get fake tits for my disguises? I may not be the best at financial planning but that seems like too much.”

Sportacus smiled, leaning into Robbie’s side. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guess that makes us a good pair.” Robbie responded, entwining their fingers together. “Now if you don’t mind me.” Robbie reclined the sofa with a snap of his fingers. He curled up beside his boyfriend with a small smile. “I think you should get some rest.”

[zombiesama]

congrats on the top surgery, Tsukumo!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

masterpost

[waitimcomingtoo]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Toms attempt at impressing you goes very wrong…then very right

Masterlist

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” Tom read off one of the papers from the bucket before looking at you. “I think it was the backflip. Do you remember that?”

“I don’t remember there being any backflips that day.” You laughed at him, making him roll his eyes.

“Do you see how mean she is to me?” Tom playfully asked the camera. “I think that was my most embarrassing moment but it ended up being the best day of my life.”

“You think that was the best day of your life?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend. “You got hurt.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Because on the one hand, it was the day I ate shit in front of the girl I liked. But it was also the day we finally got together, which makes it the best day in the history of days.”

“The history of days.” You laughed at his wording as the camera crew laughed as well.

“Was that not a good day for you?” Tom pretended to be offended as he picked up another slip of paper.

“No, no.” You assured. “It was the best day of my life too. But It was also super embarrassing.”

1 year ago

“What are you up to?”

“I’m just stretching for the day. I have to stay limber if I’m gonna keep playing Spider man.” Tom said as he stretched his arms. “Watch this.”

Tom bent down and touched his toes before looking up at you smugly.

“Wow, hot shot.” You snorted. “That’s pretty impressive. Can you do a backflip too?”

“That’s how I got the role, actually.” Tom joked. “Because I can do a backflip.”

“I bet you can’t do one right now.” You challenged him.

“I so can.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Nah.” You shook your head. “I bet it’s all CGI.”

“Darling, I’ve been a gymnast all my life.” Tom said smugly. “I can most certainly do a backflip.”

“Hm. No.” You scrunched your nose. “I don’t believe you.”

“All right.” Tom cracked his neck. “Watch me.”

He stepped back and shook out his shoulders, sneaking a glance at you to check if you were watching. You folded your arms and gave him a nod, telling him to go ahead. Tom let out a breath, got in position, and attempted a back flip. Instead of going in a full rotation like he planned, he fell flat on his face. You and Tom heard the crunch at the same time, making you gasp as he let out a groan.

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and crouched down beside him, rolling him over. “Is he dead? Are you dead?”

“Call an ambulance.” Tom groaned as a steady stream on blood ran from his nose.

“Your nose is crooked.” You grimaced as you held his face. “Is it supposed to be crooked?”

“Did I knock my teeth out?” Tom smiled weakly at you, making you laugh.

“No. Your teeth are fine.” You chuckled as you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “Are you okay?”

“As much as I’m enjoying you in top of me right now, I’d really appreciate you calling a doctor. My nose feels like it has a heartbeat.”

“Right. Sorry.” You grimaced again. “Can we get a medic over here?”

Within ten minutes, Tom was sitting in his trailer with the medic inspecting his nose. You were sitting by his side, holding his hand and bouncing your leg nervously.

“Is he okay?” You asked the doctor as you squeezed Toms hand.

“It’s definitely broken.” The doctor said as he felt Toms nose.

“Lovely.” Tom sighed.

“Oh my God.” You whined. “Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” The doctor shrugged. “All I have to do is reset it.”

“Will that hurt?” You asked as you held your intertwined hands to your chest. Tom stifled a laugh at how you were acting, fretting over him like a nervous wife.

“I’ve had this happen before.” Tom assured you. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“Okay, good.” You sighed in relief. “I was gonna say you could keep holding my hand if you needed to but if it doesn’t hurt then-“

“Just in case.” Tom squeezed your hand before you could let go. “You never know how badly something is going to hurt.”

“It’s gonna hurt pretty bad.” The doctor mumbled, making you gasp and Tom give an angry look.

“Oh my God.” You whined. “I can’t believe I did this to you. You’re gonna be in so much pain and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not brain surgery, darling.” Tom laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear with his free hand. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned and kissed the back of his hand. “You can squeeze my hand as hard as you need.”

“Okay, I’m gonna fix it in the count of three.” The doctors said as he got in position. He reset Toms nose with a loud crack, making Tom squeeze your hand as hard as he could for your sake. The doctor bandaged Tom up and gave him an ice pack before leaving the trailer.

“This is all my fault.” You sighed as soon as he left. You rested your head on his shoulder and rubbed his arm soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Darling, I hardly think you’re to blame for this.” Tom chuckled as he rested his chin on your head.

“I am.” You whined. “I was trying to flirt with you and get you to do a backflip and now your nose is broken and it’s all my fault.”

“You were trying to flirt?” Tom perked his head up and looked at you curiously.

“Yes and clearly I should never do it again because I put you in grave danger.” You pouted as you stroked his cheek.

“Darling, do I look like I’m in danger?” Tom teased you. “I’m okay. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“But you got hurt because of me.” You jutted your bottom lip out and wiped some dried blood off his face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He insisted as he pulled out his phone. “But I do want to put this on Instagram.”

“Guys, I accidentally broke my nose on set and look at Y/n.” Tom laughed as he looked into the camera. He panned it to you, but you were busy chewing you bottom lip and staring at Tom with guilty eyes.

“I feel so bad.” You pouted as your eyes flicked to the camera.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “I don’t blame you at all.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you pulled his face close to yours and pressed kissed all over it. Tom laughed as you did it, feeling his cheeks flush beneath your lips. You pulled away but kept your hands on his face.

“Can I kiss your nose?” You asked cautiously and Tom burst out laughing.

“Go ahead.” He said. “You’re acting like you’re asking for my kidney.”

You ignored his teasing and gave him the worlds most gentle kiss on the nose.

“Did that hurt?” You asked as you quickly pulled away.

“You barely touched me.” Tom chuckled.

“Well I don’t know.” You whined and grabbed the ice pack the doctor left. You placed another gentle kiss on Toms nose before holding the ice pack to his face. Tom, who was busy loving all the attention from you, pulled out his phone again.

“Look at this.” He panned the camera to you. “She’s holding the ice pack to my face.”

“Leave me alone.” You sighed. “I’m guilt ridden.”

“It’s okay.” Tom reminded you as he rubbed your knee. He silently posted the video to document the day as you checked his forming bruise.

“No it’s not.” You sighed again. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m all right, love.” Tom shook his head. “I just want you to stay here.”

“No. I can’t take this guilt.” You shook your head. “You have to punch me in the face.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To make it even.” You insisted as you cupped his face. “You have to break my nose since I broke yours.”

“You didn’t break my nose.” He reminded you. “If I broke yours, that would be domestic violence.”

“No. It’s only domestic violence if we’re dating.” You told him while stroking his hair.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Tom chuckled, feeling his face heat up again.

“The guilt won’t go away until you break my nose.” You said. “You have to do it.”

“Darling.” Tom cupped your face, making your panic halter. “I would never hurt you. And you would never hurt me. I know that. Don’t you know that?”

“Tell that to your broken nose.” You pouted as you put the ice pack back on his nose.

“Me and my broken nose forgive you.” He repeated. “And we’re not gonna punch you in the face.”

“Then at least let me take care of you today.” You countered. “I’ll take you back to the hotel and stay with you until you feel better.”

Not wanting to admit he felt better already, Tom nodded with a soft smile. He played along as you instructed him to lean on you as you brought him back to the hotel. You helped him on to the bed and he thought you’d leave it there, but he was pleasantly surprised when you climbed in bed next to him.

Tom laid his head in your lap as he held his ice pack to his face. You were running your hands through his hair and twirling his curls around your fingers.

“You do not have to be this nice to me.” Tom said as he gazed up at you.

“Yes I do.” You told him. “I broke your nose.”

“I broke my nose.” Tom reminded you. “You were just a witness to my embarrassment.”

“But I was a leading factor in you breaking it.” You groaned. “I was the number one cause.”

“You were not.” He insisted. “It’s no ones fault.”

“No ones fault but mine.” You grouched as you brushed the hairs off his forehead.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Tom laughed, but he was secretly loving it. “I need Instagram to see this.”

“I wanted to give you guys an update.” Tom said as he held his phone towards you. “She is now in my bed with my and combing my hair.”

“I feel so bad.” You whined for the millionth time as you carded your fingers through his curls.

“I know you do, love. But you don’t have to.” He smiled as he looked up at you. You looked at him for a moment before letting out a whine and leaning down to kiss his forehead. He kept recording as you kissed all over his face, nearing his lips a few times.

“The kisses are appreciated but they’re not going to heal my nose.” Tom chuckled as he sat up a little so you were holding him like a baby.

“They might.” You laughed as you continued to kiss his face. Your lips brushed the corner of his lips and he felt his heart stop for a minute. He started recording again, wanting to memorialize the day forever.

“I keep thinking you’re gonna kiss me.” Tom said quietly as his soft eyes stared into yours.

“I’m about to.” You laughed as you held his face in his face. You stroked your thumb over his cheekbone before leaning down and kissing him on the lips. You pulled away laughing after just a few seconds, leaving Tom completely starstruck.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” He sputtered as your contagious laughter got to him. He laughed too, accidentally posting the video as he let his phone fall on to the bed.

“I’m sorry.” You threw your head back laughing. “I just feel so bad.”

“You kissed me because you feel bad?” Tom asked as he laughter died down, feeling a little disappointed in the reason. You looked away and held back a smile, as well as the urge to say “no Tom, I kissed you because I’m in love with you.”

“What are people saying?” You changed the subject quickly to avoid that conversation.

“What?” Tom regained his composure, still hung up on the kiss.

“Online.” You explained. “I know you’ve been posting the videos. And I know people are talking.”

“Oh.” Tom nodded and scrolled through Twitter, still feeling a little disappointed. “They’re saying we make great couple.”

“What about you?” You asked coyly. “What do you think?”

“About what?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“About what kind of couple we’d make.” You shrugged casually, but your heart was pounding in your ears. Tom opened his mouth but shut it, trying to decide what to say as he flushed a deep red.

“I don’t know.” He said softly. “All I know is you kissing and holding me all day is something I could get used to.”

“Oh.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your eyes bore into his. He sat up a little and turned his body to face you.

“Actually, darling.” He continued with a soft tone. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to it. I think if someone like you was loving me, I’d be counting my blessings everyday. I don’t think I’d ever grow accustomed to the goosebumps I get when you look at me.”

“Are you sure you’d want to be loved by someone who broke your nose?” You asked playfully as you raised your eyebrow.

“As long as you don’t break my heart as well, I think I’ll be okay.” Tom smiled gently as he tucked your hair behind your ear. He left his hand there and slowly stroked your cheek with his thumb as he gazed into your eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that.” You shook your head as you kept your eyes on his lips.

“I believe you.” Tom mumbled before leaning in to kiss you. Before your lips could touch, you sharply pulled away and looked at him in a panic.

“Wait.” You shook your head as you collected yourself while a look of disappointment settled on Toms face.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He sputtered. “I thought-“

“You have to tilt your head to the right.” You cut him off. “And I’ll go left.”

“What?” He blinked in confusion, still thinking you didn’t want to kiss him.

“So I don’t hurt your nose any further, silly.” You smiled at him as you leaned in again. He chuckled to himself before tilting his head to the right and leaning in the rest of the way. Your lips connected as you steered clear of his nose and suddenly, all his pain melted away.

Tag List 🏷

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[wearywinchester]

Patience

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean takes care of you after a rough hunt.

Requested by Anonymous: May I please request dean taking care of the reader after she had a surgery after a rough hunt?? I would love to see how he helps her while she's recovering. I can already imagine being overly protective and being adorable and cute and all worried

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: injuries, blood, angst, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

The hunt went rough, not as bad as others had been in your years of hunting, but enough to land you in the hospital with a concussion and the need for stitches not even Dean could handle himself. He was a nervous wreck the two days you’d spent there, he’d never admit it but he was. When you’d first woken up, you were too tired to do more than open your eyes the slightest bit to find your beau with his head resting against his arm, hand heavy in yours as his eyes focused on the tv in the corner of the room. You recalled his leg bouncing the way it does when he’s worked up about something, offering your hand the occasional squeeze.

Once he’d seen you were awake, it had really started to show no matter how he tried to play it off. Dean Winchester was a worrier for everyone but himself. He was too afraid to lay down next to you just in case he might have jostled you around too much, he didn’t want to make anything worse. Despite that, he’d still been brooding a bit, sulking in his seat as he held your hand and thought he’d been the biggest idiot to let that spirit snag you like that. He didn’t even want you on the hunt in the first place, but you were you and you’d insisted on going. He was never one to hold you back on what you wanted to do but he certainly wished he did just that once.

Now, you were spending the next few days at Jodie’s cabin tucked away in the woods. She’d joined in on the case since she was in town, and there was no arguing your way out of staying with her to let you recover for a few days, not that you minded either. Her cabin was always one you were thrilled to stay in whenever there was time to stay, so talking you into doing so was simple as ever.

Dean was tangled up in worry, not ten minutes going by before he asked if you needed anything. The sight of you in pain made his jaw tense and his cheeks to burn a soft shade of pink because it tore him up to see you struggle. It tore him up that it was something he felt could have been prevented had he done something different. But he kept it to himself, having pushed it to the corners of his mind to torment himself with later once you’re comfortable and at ease.

You, on the other hand, were as frustrated as ever. No matter how much you loved and appreciated Dean’s efforts and his concerns, your independence was wearing away at you. It took everything in you not to burst into tears over the simple fact that you couldn’t drive for the time being, let alone take a shower unaided over the risk of you falling and doing more harm than good. The inconveniences were piling up, a new one being discovered seemingly every other minute.

It was building up; the frustration and desire to do things on your own just as they had been before this all happened was picking at you. So much so, the littlest things were rapidly beginning to irritate you, leaving you to be aggravated and on the brink of tears when something so little as dropping something or not being able to reach something had pushed your limits.

It was nothing Dean had done, not even a little. He was being as generous and helpful as he always was despite the way you could be grumpy. The thought alone was enough to calm you some, but not every time.

This time you’d finally done it.

You found yourself in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge after you’d insisted to Dean that you could handle it on your own. Bobby and Donna had been over, followed by Benny and Charlie and Garth. It was a little get together out back by the lake. It was fun, it was relaxing, it was a nice little break from hunting.

Until now.

You spun on your heel just a little faster than your body could keep up with, your balance wavering and leaving you to stumble into the edge of the countertop before you had the chance to catch yourself. You let out a strangled yelp as the unforgiving corner had jabbed into your side, your gasp sharp as you turned away in fear of it happening again. The bottles in your hand clattered to the floor and broke, beer seeping out in a wet puddle of broken glass. The quick steps distinctive to Dean’s boots had sounded as your hands guarded your side, and it wasn’t until Dean had rushed in that you noticed. It wasn’t until his eyes landed on your side, wide and concerned that you’d noticed.

When you looked down your shirt was beginning to stain a fresh and startling shade of scarlet, hands smudging the very same color across your skin in a matter of moments.

“Sweetheart, what happe—”

“I got it, Dean,” you rush, grabbing the towel sitting nearby, frustration simmering in your stomach as you try not to think about the tears pressing behind your eyes.

“Y/n, you’re bleeding. Let me help you.”

“I said I got it!” You say, louder as you push his hands away. His gaze lifts to yours, a bit taken back as he stands a little straighter from his spot in front of you. It wasn’t your anger or your tone that he cared about, what bothered him was the tears glossing over your eyes and the quiver in your lip. It was the way your brows furrowed as those very tears spilled over heated cheeks. The way your words faltered under the pressure of those tears. “I got it. I’m—I’m fine.”

Your voice was fragile and entirely telling of how very not fine you were. You’d let your anger get the better of you and that only made everything worse, your fists clenching as your cheeks burned.

“Sweetheart,” he says, soft as ever as he steals your attention. You look at him after a moment, averting your gaze just as quickly to hide your tears. “Why don’t you let me take a look at that, okay?”

Your jaw tenses as you nod, the towel still clutched ever so tightly within your palm as you dropped your hand to your side, heart pounding in your chest. He was gentle as he peeled back your shirt and the bandage underneath it, the stitches in your side still having been intact though they were angry and they were red, the wound still more than sensitive as it bled lightly from impact. You were embarrassed as you stood there, guilt eating at you for snapping at the man in front of you when your anger should have stayed directed at yourself.

He was gentle as he snagged the towel from your hands, stepping over the mess on the floor to wet the towel at the sink. He grabbed the first aid kit from one of the cupboards too, setting it down and opening it a while.

The heat in your cheeks had continued to burn as you looked away from his gaze, lip quivering as your eyes clouded and blurred once more at the mere thought of everything that just happened in the span of two minutes.

It wasn’t long before you felt the coolness of the towel against your stomach, relief washing over the irritated skin as he wiped away the blood that had formed over it.

“You okay?” He asks, calm and kind as he pauses.

It wasn’t until you nodded that he continued, setting the dirtied towel off to the side as he grabbed a fresh bandage. You let your gaze fall to him in that moment, watching as his tongue poked out in concentration as he smoothed the bandage securely over your stitches. He didn’t look angry at your outburst, he didn’t look annoyed, not even a little bit. You felt you deserved some of that but it never came. He was patient and kind. He may have been a little rough around the edges sometimes, and he may have been a grump others. But he was also tender and caring, and it only made guilt tug at your heart.

He stood upright when he finished, flashing you a smile as he grabbed your hand and tugged you off to the spare bedroom the two of you shared while you stayed there. You watched quietly as he rifled through his duffle bag without much care about everything that spilled out of it in the current moment. He was in search of the one thing that was sure to bring a smile to your face.

“Aha!” He cheered when he caught sight of it, snagging the shirt from the bottom of his bag.

It was an old t shirt of his, tattered and torn in spots, one that always smelled of his cologne even if it’d faded some. It was your favorite shirt of his and that was something he very well knew even if you thought he wasn’t aware of it. Little did you know he brought it in his bag on every hunt no matter what should you need a pick-me-up, should you need an extra push of comfort. He’ll always bring it.

The very corners of your mouth quirked up and the softest grin, his own having widened. “There’s that smile.”

You flash him a look as you fight to stifle the way that very smile was growing, but you couldn’t find it in you to last all of two seconds trying. You snag the shirt from his outstretched hand and move to peel off your own, and no matter how much Dean had wanted to help you, just to keep that wince from appearing on your face, he lets you do it on your own because he knows how much it meant to you to have to be able to do something on your own while you recovered.

Your shoulders slump once you put it on, smile fading once more when you look at him and his brows furrow slightly in a silent question of what’s the matter.

After a moment or two or you mind racing a mile a minute of just how you should apologize, just how you should make it up to him, you finally make up your mind on the only way you know how to do that. And after a moment or two you lean on your toes and press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet as your hands squeeze his.

“‘M sorry,” you whisper against his lips, the guilt of snapping at him still heavy in your heart.

He chuckles softly, forehead pressed to his as his nose bumps against yours. He steals a few more quick kisses, his smile still very much there.

“Sweetheart, do you know how many times I’ve been a pain in the ass when I was hurt?” He said, pulling back to look at you. He kisses away your frown the moment he sees it, his hand coming up to swipe away the stray tear on your face. “You don’t have to be sorry for bein’ frustrated, and even if you were a pain I’d still take care of you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek but he sees your smile anyway. “You’re terrible at accepting apologies, you know.”

“Or maybe you’re just terrible at givin’ them,” he jests, laughing out when you swat his shoulder. “‘M kidding!”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” you sigh, smiling up at him as you shake your head.

“But seriously, sweetheart, cleaning up a couple of beers ain’t gonna kill me. I promise. Besides, I didn’t like that brand anyway.”

Your eyes roll and a laugh falls past your lips, lips he dipped down to kiss more than a couple times more in that moment. You knew that wasn’t going to be the last of your apologies that day because you still felt bad and he knew that. But for now you’d settle for the smile he’d always put on your face because no matter what, he’d be there in a heartbeat with all the patience in the world.

Through thick and thin, attitude and all, he would be there.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| EIGHT

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin taeyong and jeno. swearing, hospital, gunshot, angst, smut (oral sex f and m receiving), unprotected sex

WORD COUNT: 3,4K

Donghyuck looked up. Stared at himself in the mirror. It had been four days since the incident and you hadn't woken up yet.

That was when it set in, that’s when the tears started. Donghyuck gripped the sides of the sink and bowed his head low, chest shuddering with strained, quiet sobs. It was all coming back: the wetness of your blood on his hands, your pained whimpers, your 'I love you, I forgive you.'

He dreads to think that… that it may be the last time that you—

No. No. He couldn't — he couldn't think like that. You were alive, that was what matters. You would be awake soon and you would be fine and he was not going to torment himself thinking otherwise.

Deep breath. Deep breath. He straightened up, rubbed his nose and his eyes, blinked away the redness. He rejoined the rest where they had gathered. Taeyong and Jaemin stood against the wall, talking quietly between themselves; Jeno sitting on one of the chairs, texting someone. When they noticed his approach, all attention shifted to him.

"Uhm..." Taeyong called his attention. "They're gonna remove the vent since she's breathing on her own now."

Donghyuck nodded and sat next to Jeno. "Her mom is with her right now." Jaemin said.

“She’ll be okay,” Jeno whispered to him.  "It's a good sign they removed the vent. She’ll be okay.”

You would be okay. Donghyuck reassured himself.

(.)

“Fuck.”

It wasn't the most graceful way to emerge from unconsciousness, you had to admit. Then again, emerging from unconsciousness in itself wasn't a graceful act. The lights were too bright and your mouth was too dry and you were somehow too warm and too hot at the same time — and don’t even get you started on the throbbing ache radiating throughout your chest, arms, and general upper-body area. It was hell.

Things started glitching out when you thought about how the hell you got there in the first place — you remember fighting Yuta, falling down the stairs and seeing Donghyuck's face, or was it a dream? You could guess what happened next.

“Hello to you too,” a voice said — not just a voice, your mind corrected you. Donghyuck, and immediately you’re seeking him out, trying to push yourself up. “Easy, easy.”

He came into view, hovering above you. One hand gently pressed down on your stomach, forcing you back down. He tried a smile — it’s more of a wince, really, especially when he was frowning like that. “You shouldn’t be sitting up yet. You’ve been out for five days.”

“Noted.” You grimaced. The pain in your torso wasn't exactly the type that you can just push through, so you don’t doubt it. “Yuta…?”

“Dead. Gunshot wound.” His eyes drifted to the general area where your own gunshot wound was, pulsing and throbbing with pain beneath the bandages and hospital gown. “Any pain? Need me to call a doctor?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I mean, as fine as… you know…,” A beat of silence, and you casted a glance around the room noticing the bunch of flower bouquets pretty much everywhere. “Taeyong or Jaemin?”

"Both of them actually," Donghyuck said.

You tried to giggle but it was too painful. You sighed. "Where are they?"

"I told them to go back to get some rest and clean up.” It was only then that he sat back down, pulling his chair closer to your bedside. You watched with timid eyes as he ran a hand over his face. He hasn't slept.

“You look tired, sweetie,” you said quietly. “You haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?”

“You were shot in the chest,” he was quick to interrupt, voice steady and stoic as usual, his eyes narrowing defensively, “You were in surgery for four hours, unconscious for five days. I was worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“You almost weren’t, (Y/N).” There was a tremble in his voice that made your heart plummeted. "You're here because of me. I know I shouldn't even be here but I couldn't leave you knowing Yuta wanted to kill you. I love you."

"I'm sorry," he murmured and held your hand carefully, "I'm so sorry. I never expected to fall for you. You got me. I love you, (Y/N). I don't expect you to forgive me, but if, for some reason you do I hope you know I love you deeply and I would never hurt you."

“Hyuck,” you muttered softly, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of him dimed the pain for a second, and you took a deep, steadying breath. “I told you I forgive you. You came back for me and I cannot assure you I’ll never get hurt, okay? And neither can you..."

You sighed. "You hurt me yes, and I'm still shocked by what you... do, but I love you, too."

Donghyuck was suddenly crying and sniffling and you sat trying to not hurt yourself and cupped his face in your free hand. "Hey, look at me.  Baby, look at me," having you to guide his eyes towards you instead of around the room. “This wasn’t your fault, do you hear me? He’s gone, and you’re not. You’re here, and he’s not. I love you."

He clasped his hands over yours, bottom lip trembling, “(Y/N), I’m so sorry."

"If you keep apologizing I will throw you out of this room, Lee Donghyuck," you stared at him and he giggled and then placed a kiss on your hands.

Donghyuck sighed and then frowned. "There's still one thing I need to do."

(.)

“No way in hell!” You stared at Donghyuck and tried to stand up from his bed.

You had been discharged from the hospital 3 days ago and you still had to rest since you not only got shot but had one broken rib, a minor contusion and some bruises all over your body.

Donghyuck pressed down on your stomach with his hand gently, forcing you back down. You grunted at him and you grabbed his arm. “Promise me you wont do such a stupid thing.” You looked him in the eye.

Donghyuck sighed. “I have to do it, (Y/N). I need to turn myself in to the police.”

You closed your eyes trying to stop the tears that were forming in your eyes. “I don’t care about your past, I only care about your future.”

Donghyuck sat next to you and cupped your face in his hands. “Look at me,” he asked you and you kept your eyes closed. “(Y/N), look at me,” he asked you again and you opened them, looking him in the eye. “You deserve someone better.”

“Bullshit,” you hissed and removed his hands from your face. “I don’t want anyone else. Listen to me, Lee Donghyuck, I forgave you once but I will not forgive you if you leave me.”

“Are you threatening me?” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow looking at you.

"I'm warning you, love," you smirked at him.

Donghyuck chuckled and nodded, placing a kiss on your hand. "Okay."

"Kiss me," you demanded.

Donghyuck caressed your cheek with one hand, eyes locked to your lips before he moved it down to your left collarbone tracing some circles on your skin.

You sighed. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Tilting your head by framing your chin with his lean fingers, he brought his lips to yours, lightly at first but scorchingly deep and dominant once he received your confirmation. As if you were untied from the knot that was holding you back, you succumbed desperately to his touch, fingers fisting against the fabric of his collar, and focusing to keep up with every movement of his lips.

He pulled away before you were even the least satisfied, hooded eyes gleaming under the dim lighting. You whined and he smiled. "What was that about?"

"I wanna keep kissing you," you growled.

"I know so well, baby. You will want more than just a keep and you can't make any rough movements," Donghyuck winked at you.

"Hey!" You laughed and pushed him. "That's not true. I do know how to hold it."

Donghyuck pecked you and beamed at you. "Get some rest, love."

"I will, but you owe me this one," you tightened his thigh.

"Deal," Donghyuck smiled and stood up. "I'll be outside if you need me okay?"

You nodded.

Donghyuck got out of his room and closed the door behind him swiftly. He went to the kitchen where Jeno was talking on the phone and eyed him. Jeno nodded. “I will, thanks. Bye.” Jeno hung up and placed his phone on the counter.  “Did you tell her?”

Donghyuck nodded with his head and leaned against the kitchen sink. Jeno sighed. “Oh man, I hate this. I didn’t want to do this right now but I have no choice.”

Donghyuck frowned and looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not an accountant,” Jeno revealed. “I work for the NIS.”

Donghyuck’s mouth was opened wide. “You what?”

“I'm an agent working for NIS,” Jeno confessed. “When I met you I didn't know what you did but then everything kinda fell into place, you know? Then we got a suspect profile and I knew it was you.”

“We’ve known each other for 5 years,” Donghyuck looked at him.

“And a year ago I knew it was you,” Jeno sighed. “But you are my friend and you stood by my side during the worst time of my life."

"So..." He tapped the back of his nape. "I told the NIS you were working with me. I got them every information they needed: pictures, text messages, emails... everything."

"Hold on," Donghyuck shook his head, "You're helping me?"

Jeno nodded. "(Y/N)'s father is going to jail thanks to you, somehow. So, you'll have to go to court and listen to the judge's verdict."

"I'm going to jail anyways," Donghyuck sighed.

"Or not," Jeno shrugged. "They might put you in house arrest for months."

"(Y/N) is gonna freak out," Donghyuck panted.

“Nothing beats you being an assassin,” Jeno teased and Donghyuck glared at him. “Too soon?”

“Yeah.”

Jeno stared at the floor for a minute and then looked at Donghyuck. “Just, don’t try to run away, okay? I got you.”

“Why would you think I’m gonna run away?” Donghyuck laughed. “I want to do the right thing for the first time, Jeno. I won’t.”

Jeno nodded. “Great, because otherwise I will beat your ass.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “You could never.”

“Wanna bet?” Jeno raised an eyebrow.

“You’re so annoying, god,” Donghyuck snorted.

Jeno chuckled and then cleared his throat. “I think you should contact a lawyer, just in case.”

“Oh, Jaemin got me one already,” Donghyuck said. “I’m seeing him tomorrow morning.”

Donghyuck bit his lip and then frowned. “Is there a chance you could give me a few days?”

“I can’t promise it, but I’ll see what I can do,” Jeno shook his head.

“Thanks, bud.”

(.)

"(Y/N)?" Donghyuck called in a soft voice, careful not to wake you up. It had been 2 weeks since the incident and you were back home and trying to go back to your regular life.

To his surprise, you called from the kitchen where you were currently doing the dishes. "Hello." He greeted once he found you, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Why are you still up?" he asked and noticed the time on the wall, 12:30 am.

You finished the plates and then turned to him, "I finished my paperwork late and I couldn't sleep," you said as you watched him remove his wristwatch and set it on the table, and then he untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. That gesture made him so hot that you bit her lip, wanting to pounce at him. You gulped when he glanced at you, knowing full well that he caught you checking him out. "You went to the lawyer's?" you asked and he nodded, sitting down.

You went behind him, holding his shoulders and giving them a light squeeze that made him visibly relax. "Did you eat? I'll just heat up something."

Donghyuck held your right hand situated on his shoulder as he shook his head. "I had dinner," he claimed. "Coffee will be great." And you smiled, moving across the kitchen to get the coffee maker and prepare him the drink. The sudden loss of your physical touch made him sigh, maybe it's not coffee that he wanted.

He was admiring you backside while doing the coffee, your beautiful hair, your waist, and sexy hips. Even your legs looked great on the shorts you were wearing.

You were surprised when you felt Donghyuck's presence behind you, arms wrapped on your body. You hummed when he gave you a back hug, head nuzzling on the crook of your neck. Donghyuck gave you a kiss on the neck that made you giggle. "I have a meeting tomorrow, if anyone sees a hickey they're gonna be so confused." And Donghyuck chuckled.

His hands found themselves on the spot that he liked the most, giving it a little squeeze that made you chuckle. "No hickeys. Got it," he whispered as he put kisses on your exposed neck, kneading her breasts. You just smiled at how needy Donghyuck was being, liking how he massaged your boobs and played with the protruding nipples.

"Do you feel better?" He inquired, still kissing your neck.

"Now you ask?" You laughed as you turned and removed his suit, letting it drop on the floor.

Donghyuck chuckled and traced his finger on your lower lip. "I had to make sure."

"I'm okay," You kissed him.

"So..." You started with a lot of mischief in your voice, fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. "I was thinking that, since you can't give me a hickey, I'll give you one instead," you claimed then sucked Donghyuck's chest, making him groan. You licked the spot and gave it a kiss before admiring the red spot you created in contrast to his skin. "I've come to the realisation, one isn't enough." And you started sucking spots on his chest, putting color on his golden skin.

"Oh God, (Y/N)," he called when you bent down to give his stomach marks as well.

You knelt down and it surprised him when you removed his pants, putting down his boxers that was a pool under him now. "Baby," he called and you shushed him while fisting his growing member. Donghyuck closed his eyes shut when you licked the side of his cock, biting his lip to prevent a series of groans to emerge.

You gave the tip a lick, kissing it as it oozes precum. "Baby." he called once again, looking down on you. Damn, you looked so hot kneeling in front of him like that.

"Yes, baby?" You smiled at him.

"Don't tease," Donghyuck warned you.

You winked at him before doing the deed.

Your mouth was really hot or maybe because his cock was really sensitive but it felt so good that groans escaped his lips. You sucked his cock, playing with it inside your mouth and even fondling his balls. His hands reached for your hair, tugging it in a ponytail as he bobbed your head up and down on his cock. Donghyuck hissed, badly wishing his control wouldn't spill out, but with a mouth so good like this how can he not fuck your mouth?

"Baby, you're so fucking good." he complimented as the hold on hair got tighter. You swallowed his cock, deepthroating him that made him groan. "Oh God, (Y/N)." And that was it, his control going down the drain. He thrusts into your mouth with so much power that if not for his hold on your hair, you might bump your head on the counter. He kept on groaning as he fuck you mouth and felt himself cumming in no time. His cum filled your mouth, swallowing it.

When Donghyuck came back from his high, he gave you a mischievous smile as he grabbed your chin with two fingers. "Open up," you opened your mouth and he checked you had swallowed everything. "Good girl."

"I'm not done with you yet." You said and you kissed on the marks that you had done to his body.

Your lips were together once again as you struggled to get to your bedroom and you pushed him on the bed, removing your shirt and sitting on top of him. Donghyuck couldn't believe that he was already naked, yet here you were there, in your bra and shorts. "This is so unfair, you should get naked as well." He revolted which made you laugh.

You gave him a kiss and then bit the lower part of his lip. "But this is about you for the meantime. I want to make you feel good," you said then sucked a spot by his neck that made him groan. You started filling his skin with red patches that would obviously show in the next few days.

Your kisses went down until you reached his semi-hard cock and you placed a quick kiss on his tip. You took off  your bra and Donghyuck held your breasts. "You're gorgeous. Shit."

He pushed you to the bed and his mouth kissed your stomach and you moaned. "Hyuck..." You called. "I want to make you feel good..." You whined but he didn't stop his adventure of going down until he was at the waistband of your shorts. "Fuck, Donghyuck." And you knew what would happen now that he was pulling down your shorts and underwear.

His tongue immediately licked your clit and you moaned, arching your back at the sensation. Damn, Lee Donghyuck and his fucking mouth. He parted your legs and started fucking you with his tongue, making you scream in pleasure. His thumb started circling your clit as he alternated the sucking and licking of your pussy. You could feel your soul being sucked by Donghyuck's mouth. And yes, that's how amazing he was. You came in no time, letting him suck everything.

He grinned while rubbing his mouth using the back of his hand and that gesture looked so sexy. "Oh, God. Fuck me," you exclaimed that made him smirk.

"Whatever you need, baby," Donghyuck mumbled while jerking his cock and positioning it on your entrance, making you nod. His cock sank inside you and he groaned at how tight you were. And the thought that it was only him fucking your pussy made the beast in him growl that instead of the usual gentle thrusts, he was jerking into you violently.

You could feel your body being thrown to bed with each thrust and his cock hitting you in the pleasure spot. With the way that he was going, you were sure you'd get so sore the next day.

"Donghyuck!" You shouted as one hand grabbed the sheets of your bed and the other scratched his back, wanting something to claw on. He was jerking into you real hard that you could hear his balls slamming against your skin.

"Yes, fuck baby." he cursed while jerking in you in such power and speed, driving both their orgasms. You came with a mind rippling orgasm and immediately felt him filling you up. What surprised you was when he didn't pull away after cumming in you.

"Fuck," you whispered, catching your breath. "I think you broke more ribs."

Donghyuck laughed, breathless and kissed your neck. "God, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

You shook your head and smiled at him. "That was amazing. Fuck, let's do it again."

"What about your meeting?" He asked, while kissing your chest.

"Fuck it," You moaned when he bit one of your lips.

"Get on all fours, baby," he whispered in your ear.

You knew it was going to be a long night.

[daddy-chiluc]

Flowers for the King | Chiluc Week Day 3

Arranged Marriage/Flowers/Royalty AU

Chiluc Fluff | M/M / Trans!Diluc

TW: N/A

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

Diluc detested him. Being near him brought a vile taste to his mouth. He hated him…he hated him so so much, and yet? Here he was, a wedding band on his finger glowing with blue gemstones as he sat idly in the garden. He never wanted to marry but he had to. It was necessary. Their kingdoms needed it to survive. He remembers clearly what Childe had said to him the night of their honeymoon.

“I don’t expect you to love me but I know that I will care for you. I expect nothing in return from you, I don’t even expect you to accept my affections or care. All I ask is you do not question why.”

He kept his word, often finding himself hiding away in his garden if he wasn’t working away. Diluc shouldn’t be allowed to work but such details have been kept hidden inside of the castle. As for now, however, Diluc’s attention is kept within the garden, glass towering over him as he watered his plants, the flowers blooming beautifully as each pot — filled with flowers from all over Teyvat — seemed to bloom more by the second. The knock was gentle. Gentle and weary. Almost nervous to ask for entrance.

“You may come in,” Diluc’s voice echoed within the large space, the vast amounts of trees and plants doing their best to subdue his voice.

“Good morning Diluc…,” Childe? He comes here often, bringing different types of flowers and plants that he knows Diluc doesn’t have or needs to be cared for, “I found something while I was away at Inazuma. I’ve managed to keep it alive on my way back.”

Unfolding the damp cloth, a beautiful flower lay flat against the material. It’s colors were vibrant, a gorgeous mix of soothing blue and violent purple. A horrifying representation of the man he despised. Yet he kept his words after all these months. He cared for Diluc, protected him — not that he needed it — when they were ambushed, and made sure to treat every plant he brought to him with such delicacy, the roots would still be intact.

Looking up, his rouge eyes met with his, a sudden burning passion making his eyes glow. Every time he looked at him like that, Diluc was sure the waves had dragged him under, the sun glowing bright through the water, the streams of sunlight almost the same shade as his vision he wore as a clasp of his cape.

“Thank you.” His gratitude was a small bonus for Ajax. Even after giving him the option to call him by his real name, he never took it. With a smile and a small, nervous bow, he rose once more as he had remembered something vital.

“How are the bandages fairing?”

“Pardon?”

“The bandages?” He motioned to his chest, eyes pinched in worry, “They aren’t still hurting you are they?” He was always asking about his bandages. Yes they hurt, they hurt more than he would like…but there wasn’t much else he could do.

“It will be fine Childe, I can handle it.” Turning, he headed further into the garden, his husband hot on his heels.

“Yes but —,”

“We’ve talked about this Childe.” He grumbled, desperately trying to lose him in the vast amounts of leaves and foliage.

“If you would please just listen.” His tone pleaded for him to turn around and once he had, the other’s eyes seemed to gleam with hope.

“What is it?”

“Albedo, Barbara and a physician from Liyue are coming here.”

“Why are you telling me this? You know I stay in the garden when we have company unless it’s absolutely necessary I be there.” He groaned, about to turn away. With hesitant steps, Ajax moved closer to brush a strand of hair behind his ear.

“They’re here for you my love,” he whispered, a gentle smile on his face as he admired and drowned in his beauty.

“What are you on about —,” Diluc’s cheeks must’ve flushed a beautiful shade of pink because the gentle caress of Childe’s hand had run over the light dust of his cheeks.

“I scheduled you get your surgery before I went to Inazuma. So you won’t have to wear those bandages anymore. They hurt you far too much. I don’t like seeing you in pain —,”

“Wait, wait, stop.” His breath had caught in his throat, eyes wide in disbelief as he searched the King’s eyes but found nothing but fondness and care.

“My…so…,” Gently, Childe had helped him sit down.

“You’ll be getting your top surgery my Rose. So you won’t have to bind anymore.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, Ajax’s thumbs wiping them away as they fell from his cheeks, “I felt like that would be the best anniversary gift I could give you.”

He cried, his hands fisting at the lapels of his coat, sobbing into his chest. His hands were nothing but gentle as they soothed his back, slender fingers twisting in the fiery red strands of hair.

“Your bottom surgery will have to wait until we have a child though…would you be okay with that?” Childe had whispered, carding his fingers through his hair, “Albedo had said it would be possible with alchemy, the procedure would just take several months and you’d be bedridden for awhile. I can try my best to take care of the flowers for you —,”

“No.” He sniffled, pulling away to rub at his eyes, “I don’t want the plants you gave me to die,” he laughed in between his tears, it was breathless and sweet. Childe had smiled, more that happy to see he’s pleased him.

“Of course Diluc,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. He had always done that. Kissed his forehead. Gently pulling him closer by his torn scarf, he laid a soft kiss to his lips. It was nervous and shy, it being their first kiss since marriage. Well…in truth, Childe, knowing Diluc had hated him, kissed the corner of his mouth at the ceremony, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. It just so happened to look like their lips met. Thankfully, it wasn’t questioned.

To say Childe had melted at the soft press of his lips would be and understatement. His heart had hammered in his chest as thin fingers pulled him closer by the nape of his neck. He could sit there kissing him for the rest of his life, his heart quivering as his hands held his waist, pulling him closer. Pulling away, Diluc had smiled, watching the other chase after his lips, eyes pleading with need.

“I wouldn’t mind the idea of having a child with you Ajax…” he said under hushed breath as he pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Just give me some time alright?” Ajax had nodded as he hid in the crook of his neck, face alight. The way his name sounded against his tongue was pleasant, the idea of a kid running around the castle a nice after thought.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world my King,” he whispered, practiced fingers stilling in his hair as he slumped forward, his embrace strong and careful. They sat within the garden, birds singing within the confined area as they sat within each other’s arms, sharing sweet kisses from time to time.

Diluc hadn’t detested him. He hated that he loved him. He hated that he hadn’t done enough for him. He loved him, he was simply scared. Scared of what was to come. Yet no matter what, even in his fear, he was always there by his side.

“I love you Ajax…,” he mumbled hiding himself in Ajax’s shoulder, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment.

“I love you too Diluc. I love you too.”

[getthembees]

Royai prompt: They get caught gettingiton by all of Team Mustang, pre frat rules being lifted. (Or making out, if you wanna keep it PG~ honestly I just wanna see the members of Team ‘We-All-Share-The-Same-Braincell’ finding their very professional bosses not being very professional.)

Hello sorry this took so long!! It's here now! This is also a lot more tender than what I think you were expecting haha

Title: flash flood under my bed

Rating: T

Read it here or on AO3

-

Riza feels herself stretched between the realm of consciousness as if her body is being hauled through a swamp. Sticky and lethargic, her eyelids flutter and fall as her mind claws at the mud. Each time she resurfaces from its depths she can take the world in for only a second—a burning light above her, a white ceiling tile, thin sheets beneath her arms—before she is submerged once again, dragged into the grime.

Her mind wakes before her body does, kicking at the shallows to keep her eyes open. Fear creeps up the back of her neck at the foreign bed under her, the unfamiliar room. She wills her body to move, to secure her surroundings. Her eyes drag to her right, blinking sluggishly at the figure there.

Black hair. It’s messy. Who is that again? A small part of her asks.

Silly girl, a larger part supplies, rattling through her entire body, that’s your Colonel.

My Colonel…

She finally blinks awake, eyes wide. Her body feels like it’s been dumped in ice water after being in a hot spring. She turns her head.

Roy does not acknowledge her movement, he sits on a borrowed hospital chair at the side of her bed, head bowed, fingers twisted in the bedsheets. His eyes are closed.

Her memories catch up with the rest of her—the tunnels, Bradley, Pride, the transmutation circle—she swallows back a choked noise. Her throat is rubbed raw from both the exertion and the yelling, her tongue feels like it’s been turned to cotton, and when she swallows again she tastes iron.

“Colonel…,” she rasps, but it comes out more of a cough than a word.

He hears it, though, and his head shoots up, eyes opening to reveal foggy pupils as he looks in the direction he thinks her head is. “Lieutenant—” he gasps, a quiet noise. Maybe he’s been swimming in a swamp, too. “Lieutenant, are you awake?”

Riza nods. Realizes he cannot see her. She hums an answer instead.

A grin splits his face, and it is a look so utterly relieved that she feels her eyes misting, “I’m so glad,” he whispers, breathless, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She wants to answer, wants it more than anything at this moment. To reach out and reassure him with words he’ll need now that he cannot see, to talk, finally, now that the battle is over. But her throat still tastes like metal, and she desperately needs a drink.

“Water,” she croaks, reaching feebly for the table at her bedside.

“Oh, right.” Roy traces the edge of her bed until his hand hits the table leg, brushing upwards until he closes his hand gingerly around the full glass. She meets his hand halfway, closing her fingers around his bandaged skin as he moves the cup to where he thinks her head is.

Riza sits up, the wound in her shoulder smarts as she does so, but she ignores it in favor of guzzling the water, only stopping to gulp down air.

When the cup is empty, and her throat feels less like it’s full of copper cenz, she opens her mouth. “Thank you, Colonel,” she starts, she almost says I’m glad you’re okay, too. But he isn’t okay, his hands are wrapped in gauze, and he’s still blind. What a poor excuse for a bodyguard you are, her mind spits.

“How long have you been waiting here?” She asks instead, an innocent question, a safe question.

“A couple of hours, I think. Though I really can’t tell,” he laughs, but it sounds strained. A string pulled taut. “You’ve been asleep for longer, It took the medics a while to bring me here. How is your neck? Your shoulder?”

“Sore, they itch a little, too. Mei Chang did a fine job, it’s not as bad as it could be.”

His mouth creases in a thin line at the memory of her, the blood, the gold-toothed doctor. “I suppose you’re right. It seems I am indebted to her for saving my precious subordinate’s life.”

Precious. Riza ignores the warmth in her chest and eases back onto her pillow with a heavy sigh. “How are your hands, sir?” She doesn’t ask about his eyes, she knows Amestrian medics don’t have the means to restore his sight from the other side of the gate.

Roy’s head tilts down as if to look at the bandaged limb before he catches himself, snapping his head upwards like it was pulled by a hook. “The surgery was quick, and the doctor said they’ll heal fine. The cuts were clean. Neat, even.” He shoots her a lopsided smile, “still hurts like a bitch to move, though.”

Riza doesn’t have the energy to laugh, her lips quirk instead. “That’s good, Colonel.”

There’s a lull, a tension settles in the air like lightning is about to strike the very room they sit. She hasn’t felt this uneasy in his presence since Ishval. Riza takes a breath, “sir—”

“I am very sorry, Hawkeye.”

Riza freezes, staring at him. She doesn’t speak, she senses he’s not quite finished.

“I apologize for… for everything that happened in those tunnels. For losing my head fighting the homunculus, for yelling at you, for my… attachment to you getting you hurt,” he looks up, and despite the blind gaze, she feels his eyes bore into hers. “I was reckless. Arrogant to think they’d never hold you against me and a fool for thinking I was a good enough man that you would never have to pull your gun on me.”

“Please,” he begs, bowing his head. “Please forgive me, Hawkeye.”

She inhales slowly, turning his words over in her head. She remembers the terror in his voice as he watched her get dragged to the transmutation circle. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened with the doctor. That wasn’t your fault, sir. It was never your fault that they decided to use me against you. You could never have prevented that.” Roy looks like he wants to argue, she forges on, “do not apologize for being a human, Colonel. You are bound to have people close to you. Any one of those could have been used against you, to drop them for any potential threat is a foolish paranoia. Our…” relationship? Partnership? Friendship? “...proximity is nothing to apologize for. I will not have it.”

She pauses, clenching her hands against the pristine sheets of her bed. The battle with Envy flits through her head like an old film, her Colonel’s savagery seems branded in her mind. Riza takes a deep breath. “You lost yourself against Envy. You lost yourself in your anger, and you said horrible things. You almost did horrible things. You pushed me away, Colonel. But…,” she looks at him, his fingernails are digging into the fabric of his pants, knuckles white.

She remembers what he had said to her months prior, before she had been reassigned. I’ve been called a human weapon, a monster, but it’s only when I’m fighting a real monster that I realize I’m just a human. She rests her hand on his, his fingers relax under her touch.

“You didn’t go past the point of no return. You didn’t lose your humanity, Roy.”

Roy sucks in a breath, the sound rattled and hollowed. It makes him look fragile. She curls her fingers around his palm.

“So…,” she begins, her voice no more than a whisper, he leans his head towards her. “I forgive you, Roy Mustang. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Roy turns his hand upwards, slipping his fingers between hers. His eyes are closed again, and there is a small, shaky smile on his face. “I don’t know why you’re forgiving me so easily. You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I’ve never listened to everything you have to say, sir.”

Laughter bubbles from his lips, the sound warm. The knot of stress in his voice seems to have unwound. He bows his head, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Thank you, Ha— Riza.” She can make out the small, newly healed scratches on his face from this distance. “Truly, for everything, thank you.”

The hand he has clasped in hers untangles their fingers and reaches up to trace along the inside of her wrist, up against the length of her arm, her uninjured shoulder, the side of her face, until he sweeps the loose hair that falls over her eyes behind her ear. The movement is slow, tentative, cautious of her injuries and his own blindness. Riza leans into his palm and hums, a soft encouragement. She pushes up on her elbows as his finger traces her cheek, her jaw.

Riza reaches up to hold his hand in hers once more, grasping at his knuckles, brushing against the bandages on his palm. The tension that had crackled before isn’t vicious now. It is still there, palpable in the air, but it doesn’t threaten a flashover, lingering instead with the promise of summer rain.

Roy leans in and pauses a breath away from her, unsure if he’s welcome or unsure where she is, Riza can’t tell, but she huffs a laugh nonetheless. Still useless in the rain, I suppose, she thinks with a smile, and closes the gap for him.

Warmth blooms in her chest and she feels a rush of lightheadedness. This. This is what had been building in them since before the Promised Day, before the homunculi, in the budding years of their partnership. The kiss says a million things, it is the culmination of a thousand stares, a thousand late-night dinners, a thousand confessions buried under propriety and mumbled words. Roy’s palm flexes against her cheek, his other hand moves to grasp at her waist, the heat of his grip searing over her thin hospital gown. Her own hands reach up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Now that she has allowed herself to touch him, she never wants to stop.

Roy has the same mindset, the hand on her waist traveling up and down her side, never quite stilling even as it moves to her lower back, pressing gently into her spine as he tilts into her. His lips are soft, unfairly so when hers are still chapped, and when he opens his mouth to scrape his teeth against her bottom lip she lets out a noise that makes her flush spread to her chest.

They break away only for a heartbeat before meeting again. Roy leans over her now, and a reasonable voice in the back of her head whispers that, maybe, she shouldn’t let her commanding officer press her into a creaky hospital mattress in a crowded building with a door that is, presumably, unlocked.

Riza ignores this thought in favor of pulling down his collar so she can kiss the length of his neck. He grumbles low in his throat, and she feels the noise against her tongue.

She’ll be damned if they stop this now, after years of nothing, she wants nothing more than to lie with him here forever. The bed dips where Roy props up his knee, and she leaves his collarbones to seal their lips again.

And— yes, yes. She refuses to let this go— not when Roy squeezes the skin of her outer thigh, not when she allows herself to rub the wide expanse of his back through the thin hospital shirt, not when he presses his tongue between the seam her lips and makes that noise—

Someone in the room coughs.

Roy freezes just as Riza wrenches herself away from him, face flaming as she whips her head to look for the source of the noise.

Breda stands at the door, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Fuery and Falman flank him, the former of whom has turned a dangerous shade of red and has cast his gaze downwards to lock eyes with the suspiciously Hayate-shaped lump under his jacket. Falman is thin-lipped and tense, his shoulders pressed up against his neck, he averts his eyes to a space in the far corner.

Rebecca stands behind them, body halfway through the door, with the smuggest grin stretched across her face. Riza feels a headache coming on.

“Apologies for the interruption, sirs,” Breda deadpans, raising an eyebrow and shooting her a look that says, really? Riza clears her throat self-consciously. “We just came in to visit the Lieutenant.”

“We can leave if you’re… preoccupied,” Rebecca says, trying, and failing, to stifle her laughter with a cough.

Roy had settled back into his chair as soon as they spoke, his back straight. “That’s quite alright, Second Lieutenant. I’m sure Hawkeye would enjoy the company.” The professionalism in his voice belies the red of his ears. She’s sure the team doesn’t notice, far away as they are, but the attempt amuses her nonetheless.

Breda strolls in, determined to pretend that nothing abnormal has happened, Falman follows in his example, although he has yet to meet her eyes, and Fuery avoids the dilemma entirely by pulling Black Hayate from his jacket and placing him on the floor. Her puppy bounds across the floor, his entire body moving with the wag of his tail.

“Hayate!” Riza cheers as he leaps onto the bed with her, tilting his head as she scratches behind his ears. She pulls him to her chest, pressing her face into his fur, “I’m so glad you’re okay, Braha. You’re such a good boy.”

Hayate chuffs in response, leaning into her hold as his tail whacks her arms. She lays a kiss on his head.

Rebecca sidles up to the bed, brushing the fur between Hayate’s shoulder blades. “It was the Sergeant Master’s idea to sneak him past the staff,” she supplies, nodding back at the man in question.

Fuery rubs the back of his head, meeting her eyes for the first time since he’s entered. “Well, they probably saw him and just ignored it, really. He couldn’t keep his tail still.”

“Maybe a nurse should’ve stopped us. Then you two could have continued with your catch-up time,” she cackles, failing to smother the noise into her fist, and shoots Riza an exaggerated wink.

Roy huffs, his arms crossed over his chest, “I think we get the picture, Catalina.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re thinking up quite the picture, Colonel—”

“Thank you, Fuery,” Riza cuts in before the bickering could devolve further, “I appreciate it.”

Fuery gives her a nervous smile, “It was no problem at all, Lieutenant, really.”

“Still,” she looks over the rest of the group, “I’m glad you all visited, and that you’re all uninjured.”

Breda waves his hand dismissively. “Yeesh, I didn’t know you were such a sap, Lieutenant. Of course we’d visit,” he cups a hand to his face like he’s about to tell a secret, “It would be cruel for us to leave you here alone with the Colonel for God knows how long.”

“Har har,” Roy mocks as the rest of the room snickers, “if you’re going to be a pest, Breda, you should have at least brought some food with you.”

Breda rolls his eyes, just as Falman pulls a paper baggy from his coat pocket. “One monte cristo and one turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwich from Zullo’s Deli,” he states in the same tone of voice he delivers his mission reports.

Riza thanks him as he hands her the baggy, she slides Roy his monte cristo as she unwraps her own sandwich. Hayate watches the food curiously while giving her a particularly pathetic look. “No begging,” she tells him, and he lowers his head to her lap once more.

Roy nearly groans as he manhandles his food, “Falman, you are a saint.”

Riza takes a bite of her food, savoring the taste. It tastes like liquid gold on her tongue, but, she supposes, even food from the trash would taste impeccable right now. She nudges Rebecca with her elbow, “did you bring anything for yourselves?”

Rebecca shrugs. “Nah, we already ate about an hour ago. We plan on staying here to chat while you two eat, assuming that’s fine with you.”

“Of course it’s fine, as long as you find your own chairs,” she responds, scanning the room for seating. It’s relatively barren, with there only being two guest chairs in the room, one of which Roy currently claimed. Rebecca took the other chair, pulling it closer to Riza’s bedpost while the other men in the room piled onto Roy’s empty bed.

The team recounts their friend’s whereabouts as they finish their sandwiches. The Elric’s had been admitted soon after she had, and Alphonse currently resides in quarantine, with his only visitor being his brother. Reconstruction of the Central Command building had begun as well, led by Grumman and his men.

They keep the conversation light, they don’t talk about the death toll, or the injured. No one mentions the clouded sheen over Roy’s eyes.

Riza brushes her finger against Roy’s knuckle while the rest of the room laughs at something Breda said. She taps twice, lingering a second before pulling away. His hand chases hers as it retreats, catching it and curling his pinky finger around hers. He taps back, once, twice, thrice. Repeating the motion in sync with the steady beating of her pulse.

[soniaxdixon]

New Series, pt. 1 - Until Now

A NEW SERIES Y’ALL. Okay, I’m so excited for this one. It’s a friends to lovers <3 I need help thinking of a title so let me know!!

Warnings: Swearing

y/n and Daryl grew up together before y/n left for college, not long after, the world ended and Daryl had already left their town. y/n finds Daryl at the bottom of the ravine on his search for Sophia. After bringing him back to his people, they welcome y/n with open arms allowing the romance between y/n and Daryl to flourish.

Word Count: 2120

��You paced the woods trying to pick up on the trail of the deer you had been tracking, suddenly drawn from your thoughts by the sound of a horse and someone in pain. Without thinking, you ran towards the sound, stopping quickly as your body was almost thrown over the edge of a ravine.

“Shit” You mumbled as you tried to focus on the body that laid still down the bottom. You could see blood spilling around him and knew you had to be fast if you were going to help. You found your way down without too many injuries, a few cuts and bruises and a sprained ankle but nothing compared to this guy.

You walked closer, cautious as to if he was still alive or about to turn. Finally you were able to focus on his face. You threw yourself to the floor next to him.

“Holy shit, no fucking way. Daryl?” He didn’t respond as his body laid still. Your head flew to his chest to listen for a heart beat. You could hear one as well as feel the rise and fall of his chest. “Daryl wake up. It’s me. I need you to wake up. It’s y/n” You placed your head on his chest as he began to stir beneath you. Your head shot up as you looked down at his slowly opening eyes, they were as blue as you remembered.

“God first I’m seein’ Merle and now it’s you. How hard did I hit my damn head. Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his head and you chuckled, throwing your arms around him. His entire body went rigid at the contact. You were real.

————

Daryl lifted the last of your stuff into the back of your car. “Ya promise to call me every damn day that ya gone.”

“Yes sir. I promise. I’ll miss you D but I’ll be back by Christmas.”

“Yeah I know.”

You stood up on your toes and placed a small kiss on his cheek, turning on your heels quickly so Daryl couldn’t see the shade of red your cheeks now were but the colour of his cheeks matched yours.

“Back by Christmas.” You muttered, loud enough so he could hear.

“Ya better be.”

You and Daryl had grown up together. You did everything together, knew everything about each other, well almost everything. You never told him that you loved him. He never admitted his love for you. The fear of ruining the friendship the two of you had overpowered any ideas of a confession of love. The day you left for college was one of the hardest days of Daryl’s life, watching you drive away and towards a future quite possibly without him in it broke him that day.

You hadn’t even made it home before the world went to shit, you never got to reunite with Daryl.

Until now.

Here you were, crouched down at the bottom of a ravine, the reunion you hadn’t exactly dreamt of but wanted for so long. Daryl’s body was bruised and broken with a bolt through his left side. “Daryl, come on. I need you to sit up so we can figure out whatever is happening here.”

Daryl forced himself to sit up, his breathing was ragged as he clenched his teeth. His hands held where the bolt had pierced his side. You gently placed your hands over his to move them, he flinched at the contact and then hissed in pain at his sudden movement.

“I need you to let me see, we need to pull it out so we can bind it properly.”

Daryl moved his hands away carefully as his eyes focused on you. You were certainly a welcomed distraction. How did you even find him? You were even more beautiful than he remembered, the way the light reflected off the water and bounced off your eyes, giving off a certain light themselves, the ones that could ignite the fire in his chest so instantly. He wondered if-

His thoughts were interrupted by you ripping the bolt through his side and proceeding to shove a piece of ripped cloth over the wound to limit the amount of blood loss.

“MOTHER FUCKING SHIT BASTARD!” He yelled before his brain could even process what was happening.

“There, that was easy right? Please tell me you have a camp around here, I hope you do because you need stitches and fast.” You slipped your belt off and wrapped it around his waist securing the cloth and again, limiting the blood flow even more.

“Yeah, I’m stayin on a farm.”

You and Daryl managed to make it up the sides of the ravine and made your way towards the farm. Daryl Was stumbling along, barely able to walk but pushing himself nonetheless. You stumbled as quickly as you could with your ankle now swelling to twice its usual size.  The farm was now in sight as you walked slowly behind Daryl, hobbling along at your own pace. Four men ran towards you and Daryl as you froze. Daryl was still slightly ahead of you when a man pointed a gun at his head.

“Third time ya pointed that thing at me. Ya gonna pull the trigger?” Daryl yelled.

At the sudden realisation that Daryl was not a walker, the attention was on you, the gun now aimed at your head.

“She’s with me.”

BANG

You closed your eyes, did they just shoot you? No, there was no pain. Your eyes opened to see Daryl now on the floor. The man who held the gun began yelling “NO!”

shit, shit, shit. You dove on the floor, checking where he was shot, the bullet grazed his head. Two of the men lifted Daryl up and began hurriedly walking towards the farm. Adrenaline pumped through you as your focus was now on a woman who ran towards the six of you.

“Oh my God, is he dead?” She asked.

“You the one that shot him?” Your focus quickly on her.

“I thought he was a walker.”

You walked up to the girl, your hand balled in a fist as your swung hard into her left cheek, sending her to the floor. “Fucking dumbass.” You limped away, towards the farmhouse as she remained on the floor, clutching her face.

An old man ran out of the house.  “Take him up to the spare room, I’ll get my kit.”

Daryl’s surgery was quick, a few stitches and some pain killers. Then the attention was on you again as you sat on the bed next to Daryl. Close but not close enough to be touching.

“Thank you for saving him, my name is Rick Grimes.” Rick extended his hand to shake yours.

“Y/n y/l/n and it’s no problem. When I saw it was Daryl, there was no way I was leaving him there.”

“You know Daryl?”

“We grew up together” Daryl interrupted.

You smiled at him. “I left for college just before everything went to shit, by the time I made it home, Daryl was gone.”

Daryl looked solely at you know. “If I knew ya’d be comin’ back to town, I would have waited for ya.”

“Daryl, I saw the state of our town, you were right to leave as soon as you could.” Your hand brushed his slightly before he pulled his hand away and up to his mouth, succumbing to his habit of chewing on the skin around his thumb.

Rick stood up from his chair, “I’m gonna go and get you guys some food, I’ll send Hershel back to look at your ankle, y/n”

“Thanks, Rick.”

Rick left the room leaving you and Daryl in there alone. You looked at the archer who was already looking up at you sending shivers down your spine. You reached gently towards his head, pushing his hair away from his bandage that wrapped around where the girl had shot him.

“Heard ya hit Andrea pretty hard.” Daryl chuckled.

“Yeah, I don’t know what came over me, I just, seeing you hurt and knowing she was the one that did it…”

“I know what ya mean, It’s like, remember when Johnny broke up with ya, back in high school?”

“Oh my God, yes, I was heart broken.”

“Ya remember how he came to school a couple of days later, with a broken nose and he said it was a-”

“A snowboarding accident. Yeah I remember.”

“Well it wasn’t, I went to his house that night, hit him square in the face, broke his nose and busted his lip in one hit.”

“Oh my God, Daryl.” You both laughed “He was such an asshole to me, I don’t know why I liked him so much.”

“Me neither, ya deserved so much better.” Your eyes locked with his as your hand moved from his hair down to his cheek. The tips of his ears burned red as you leaned down ever so slightly. His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

Rick walked in with two plates of food, startling both you and Daryl, sending you off the bed and onto your bad ankle. You yelped in pain before sitting back down on the bed, both yours and Daryl’s cheeks flushing red.

“I uh, what was happening?” A slight smirk on Rick’s face

“Nothing!” You and Daryl responded in unison.

“Uhh, alright then, here’s your food, Hershel will be here in a sec to check your ankle.” Rick looked between the two of you, the smirk on his face grew.

You and Daryl ate your dinner in silence, pausing half way through your meal when Hershel, the old man, walked in. He examined your ankle and you winced.

“It’s not broken, just sprained, should heal itself soon but you should keep it elevated for the next couple of days. Unfortunately this is our only spare bed as Carl is in our other one.”

Daryl looked between you and Hershel “S’ okay, I’ll head back to my tent tonight.”

“Daryl, no. I can sleep on the chair, I’ll use the bed as a foot rest. It’ll be the best sleep I’ve had in a while, trust me.”

“I’ll let the two of you figure it out. Just keep it elevated.” Hershel left the room, leaving you and Daryl alone again.

“Take the bed, I’ll take the chair.” Daryl said as he tried to push himself out of the bed but struggled.

“You can hardly move, you take the bed, I’ll take the chair.”

“Nah, not happenin”

“I mean, we could both take the bed. If you’re okay with that.”

Daryl froze at your words. “It’s either that or I take the chair, Daryl.”

“Nah, I’ll move over, hold up.” Daryl shifted his body as close to the edge of the bed as he could. You moved yourself from your sitting position to under the covers, lying next to Daryl, far enough apart that you weren’t touching. Daryl reached over and flicked the lamp off as you got comfortable and closed your eyes. Your attempt to stifle a yawn didn’t work as you let the comfort of the bed surround you.

“Thanks for saving me.” Daryl mumbled.

“You would have done the same for me.”

It was true, he would go to the ends of the earth for you, do anything you asked him to. After all this time, his feelings for you never changed. Neither yours for him. You both fell asleep with ease, by the middle of the night you were tangled in each others arms.

You woke up as the first light settled in the room, you were definitely not in the position you had fallen asleep in, no, now your body was pressed up against his body, his arm was draped around you. Your stomach flipped with emotions. If it were up to you, you would stay in this position for eternity but what if he didn’t feel the same way. Surely he didn’t, the way he flinched every time you touched. But what about the moment the two of you shared last night. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt him stir behind you slightly. You carefully removed his arm and pushed yourself back to the edge of the bed before he woke up.

He was already awake. He woke before you but remained still with his arm wrapped around you like he had always dreamt of. But when he felt you push away from him, he closed his eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep. You obviously didn’t want him touching you. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way about him. But what about the moment you shared last night?

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Strangers (Part 5)

Summary: After dinner with Dean’s parents, he’s a little off and the reader attempts to make him feel better but discovers something in the process that sets her on edge...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x patient!reader

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, mention of surgery/injury/death, angst

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Final part coming soon!

____

“That went well,” you said after dinner as you helped wash up a pan. “Your parents seem nice.”

“They were excited to see Sam,” said Dean.

“You sure you didn’t want to go out for a drink with them?” you asked. He shook his head and you set the pan aside, wrapping your arms around his waist. He let out a sigh and you hugged him tight. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m okay.”

“I think Sam wants to stay here even though your parents offered to let him stay with them,” you said.

“I know he does.”

“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked, resting your head against his back. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Kid in my last surgery died on the table,” he said. “His parents...it was routine and he died. His dad...it's the worst part of my job,” he said.

“Did you try your best?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you did everything you could.”

“I know. Can we just lay in bed tonight?” he asked. You nodded and followed him back to his bedroom. You went to your drawer and pulled out some pajamas, wide eyed when you saw Dean take off his shirt.

“What happened?” you asked, dropping the clothes. He tried tugging his shirt on but you took it, Dean trying to cover the marks on his arms, showing one on his ribs. “Did the father…”

“He was upset and he shoved me. It’s really not a big deal,” he said.

“It’s a big fucking deal,” you said, resting a hand on his ribs. “You’re hurt.”

“His son died. He was a tad upset. I don’t blame him,” said Dean. “Parents are devastated when I have to tell them that they will never see their kid alive again.”

“It doesn’t give him a right to be violent with you.”

“It should have been an easy in and out procedure,” he said. 

“But it wasn’t. Something was wrong and it’s not your fault.”

“It’s my job to save them, no matter what shape they come into that room.”

“What happened, today what happened,” you said.

“He came in for gallbladder removal. He had a heart attack. There was an unknown hole in his heart, a murmur. The anesthesia fucked him up and he had a reaction. It was too much for his body.”

“He had a hole in his heart no one knew existed. That kid probably was past saving.”

“The entire surgical staff said the girl with the destroyed digestive track was past saving but we got her-“

“Dean. What do you mean we.”

He shrugged and put his shirt on, your hand catching his arm.

“What did you mean.”

“I was working in the ER the day you came in. The whole ER heard you come in. God, I have nightmares about that sound,” he said.

“I don’t understand. I don’t...I didn’t meet you until the vending machine.”

“I never saw your face but I was in the OR for a bit. All of us were. An intestinal transplant requires a lot of hands,” he said.

“So you hadn’t just heard of me. You held the intestines currently in my body. Did I get that right?”

“Are you seriously pissed at me right now?” he asked, scrunching up his face. “For what!”

“You know I have a hard time trusting people now. It makes me question if you pitied me and that’s why you dropped by my room that day. I don’t want your pity, Dean.”

“I don’t want yours! A kid died. His dad shoved me. Fucking get over it. It’s my job. I got over that shit long before you were around,” he said. 

“Do not yell at me for caring about you.”

“Don’t yell at me for brining up something so insignificant-”

“It’s not insignificant! I literally met you because of this,” you said as you put your hand on your stomach. “I’m alive because of that surgery. It’s a big deal to me. I’m not mad that you were in the surgery. I’m mad that you didn’t tell me because that makes my head not want to trust you.”

“Then don’t. Why don’t you just take your crap and leave,” he said.

“I’m not walking out. You’re having a bad day and-”

“And you’re overreacting to the stupidest shit.”

“I’m sorry that I have trust issues with people now. I’m sorry that my head is trying to be logical-”

“Logical? What the fuck is logical about this?” he asked.

“The last boyfriend I had tried to kill me when I didn’t trust him so I’m fucking sorry for having PTSD!” you shouted. “I was trying to say that my head is saying that but-”

“You know, I don’t really want you to stay over tonight so can you just go home to your parents. Please,” he said.

“I am-”

“Boo hoo, they’re overbearing. Suck it up,” he said.

“Fine,” you said. You left your pajamas behind and grabbed your bag by the door, driving home quickly and slamming the front door shut on your way in.

“First fight?” asked your dad from where he was reading the family room.

“Like you fucking care,” you said. You went upstairs and slammed your door as well, plopping down on the bed and curling up with your pillow. The door creaked open and you felt the bed dip behind you. “I’m sorry. Please go away.”

“Apology accepted but no can do on that second part,” he said. “What happened?”

“My PTSD acted up and I got scared for a second and Dean had a bad day so we took turns yelling at each other until he told me to leave.”

“You love him still?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder and he smiled. “I know you love him. Mom and I can tell. He’s one of the good ones. PTSD isn’t going to just go away like that and with his job, his bad days aren’t going away either. So. You want to put up with nights like this every so often for him?”

“He wouldn’t let me tell him that my head got scared but the rest of me didn’t. I know he would never do a damn thing other than protect me.”

“That’s why they call it a post traumatic stress disorder, honey. After a trauma, you may have a slightly different reaction under stress than you used to,” he said. “Dean understands that.”

“I wish I hadn’t freaked on him.”

“Well I wish I wasn’t a dick,” said Dean. You sat up and turned towards the door, Dean giving you a half smile as he stood there in his pajama bottoms and coat. “Your mom let me in.”

Your dad excused himself and Dean took his spot on the bed, placing his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said as you felt the words leave your lips. “Y/N, you have every right to get paranoid when you think I’m not telling you something. I understand, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t like that you felt you couldn’t trust me and it was fuel on the fire.”

“I was going to tell you that my head might have freaked but how I feel about you didn’t. My head went danger and my heart was busy telling it that it was being a dumbass when we started fighting,” you said.

“How do I help you trust me?” he asked.

“Be honest...and call me out when I overreact. I know you don’t pity me, Dean. It’s like my body. It’s one of those things that’s gonna take me time to recover from.”

“I don’t mind waiting with you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. It was wrong and I took out a bad day on you. I’m happy you care about me and get concerned. But I used to hate myself whenever I lost a patient. Absolutely hate myself. I’m still learning that I can’t do that anymore and I just ask that you’re patient with me when that happens.”

“Of course,” you said, taking his hand into your lap. He smiled and gave you a nod, glancing down. “Can I see your bruises?”

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Please?”

He sighed and took off his coat, shrugging out of his shirt and your eyes went to his ribs again.

“Here,” you said, getting out of bed. You went over to your desk and dug through the bin on top, pulling out a extra long bandage. “They broke a few ribs to do my surgery. I wore this sometimes. It helped with the pain.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, raising his arms so you could wrap it around him. He winced a little and you tucked it in, Dean putting his shirt back on. “Wanna come back to my place?”

“Okay,” you said. “Survived our first fight.”

“I’m sure we’ll survive the rest too,” he said. “Let’s head home, sweetheart.”

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 12 (Bucky Barnes au)

“Send your dreams where nobody hides

Give your tears to the tide”

Rushing to the compound felt surreal. Sam was driving as fast as he could as you were already thinking of the most efficient way to deal  with the situation. You were a doctor in biology and chemistry. Healing was a piece of cake for you. This shouldn't be any different.

"What injury did he suffer?" you asked, hiding the panic in your voice and leaving a crack in the car window to get some fresh air.

"Stab wound. It's pretty bad."

You scratched your forehead, doing your best not to give any thought to the pain Bucky was most likely going through.

"He was injected with the same serum as Steve, meaning he has the same healing process as him. One simple stab wound shouldn't be 'bad', so it has to be more than that."

Sam's grip on the stirring wheel tightened. He kept looking straight away, but he squeezed your hand once.

"Steve was freaked out. He might've overestimated the damage."

"Or underestimated. They might be super soldiers, Sam, but that doesn't make them invincible."

"I know."

"Sorry. I shouldn't be so dry. I'm just thinking. If..."

"We're almost there," he said, cutting you off. "I know the way you work, and I'm convinced you'll know what to do as soon as you see him."

The wind in your hair wasn't enough to calm you down and Sam had barely stopped the car when  you opened the door and ran to the compound. You were moving so fast your throat and lungs were burning, as you were not used to such physical exercises. You'd never been shaped for the field, nor had you ever wanted to be. You barged in the lab and put your hair up in a ponytail to keep it away from your face. Bucky was lying on a metal table :  you noticed he was pressing the side of his abdomen. Blood had stained his tight grey shirt. The blood on his face and shoulders, however, you concluded came from Steve carrying him. His eyes were open : good. After putting on sterilised gloves, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through his shirt. You hadn't even noticed Steve and Bruce's presence.

"Go, both of you," you told them as you assessed the wound, ignoring how Bucky's mouth was twisted with pain. "I've got this."

Bruce didn't need to be told twice : he trusted your skills with his life. It might have been Steve's case as well, but leaving his friend's side seemed harder for him to do.

"Steve, go. I won't be able to focus."

Your stern voice was what finally made him leave the room, closing the doors behind him. Bucky, still lying down, grabbed your wrist, staining the white gloves with red.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't fix," you assured him. You'd switched to working mode as soon as you'd seen him, but totally getting rid of your emotions wasn't the easiest thing to do.

"Your voice is shaking," he noted. "I.." – He let out a small grunt. – "Are you sure you're okay?"

You let out a sarcastic and nervous scoff. "Yeah, my voice is shaky but my hands are not. I'm the one who should ask if you're okay. Now shut up, unless I ask you something."

You didn't pay attention to his furrowed brows or confused look. The only thing you were looking for, while applying pressure to his wounds, was any particular sign of pain. He wasn't hiding it, unlike some of your teammates (Natasha came to your mind).

"It's deep," you explained. "Can you press this cloth for a second?"

He nodded and immediately got to it, allowing you to grab a scanner to see if any vital organs or blood canals had been severed. Locating the most damaged canal took you two seconds. You had no time for an anaesthesia ; you didn't have much doubt about Bucky's ability to bear pain. You used clamps to keep the wound open.

"This might itch," you said as you grabbed the electrocautery and applied it to the bleeding canal. You knew his face was contorted with pain, but you couldn't let your soft side win in those situations. Seeing people in pain was the hardest part of your job.

The rest of the surgery went on in silence, aside from Bucky's occasional grunt or sigh. Once you were done stitching the wound, you helped him sit up and bandaged the area. You wiped the sweat on your forehead with a towel, moving wet streaks of hair out of the way. Caring for this spectacular stab wound had taken around two hours, so you allowed yourself to drink some water before handing Bucky the bottle and tending to his other scratches. He probably didn't need this kind of medical assistance, but leaving him scathed was out of the picture.

"You need to hydrate yourself."

He took a long sip as you cleaned the multiple scratches he had on his right harm. His shoulder had taken the most of it, leading you to think he'd fallen from a higher place.

"What happened?" you finally asked. "I thought this was supposed to be an easy mission."

Now that you didn't need to focus as much and that the overall fear for Bucky's safety had passed, tears were threatening to come to your eyes.

"It was. Doesn't mean those guys weren't jerks."

"Bucky," – you carefully captured his chin between your fingers to make him look at you – "what happened?"

"Natasha got in harm's way. I knew she couldn't take it as good as me. It was the smart play."

"No, it was the bold, reckless way," you retorted. "You have no idea what Steve's call put me through. I thought..."

"Hey, I'm okay. Thanks to you," he whispered as he stroked your cheek. "I couldn't let them hurt someone who might've died. I knew I'd come out of this, that's why I did it."

You lowered your gaze and your eyes lingered on the numerous scars his naked torso displayed. You traced some of them with your fingers : on his collarbone, on his abdominal muscles, on his shoulders, and so on. You could tell there was a story behind each of these, and you assumed they were stories he would rather not talk about.

"I'm sorry you had to see those," he said. It was barely a whisper, so low you weren't sure you'd heard it right. "They're from my time with H.Y.D.R.A."

"Don't be sorry. Remember what you asked me about your arm?" – He nodded. – "This is no different. It's you, and that's all I care about."

You ran a hand through his hair : it'd been hardened by dried blood in some places. You closed your eyes and laid a kiss on his forehead before going to one of the cupboards to get him a lab coat. A warm sensation made its way to your stomach as you realised how easy it was being with him, how natural it seemed, how meant-to-be it felt, how...

"Wear this," you told him. "We need to do something about all this blood."

As if they'd been expecting you to come out, Steve, Nat and Sam jumped to their feet when you  opened the door. Bucky tried getting up on his own as well, but you grabbed his arm just as fast.

"You might be healing fast, Sergeant Barnes, but I'm not keeping you out of my sight just yet," you joked lightly.

Bucky was holding the coat closed over his chest, his other hand squeezing your back in gratitude.

"How are you, Buck?" Steve asked.

"Good, don't worry. 'T was just a scratch."

You gave him a grave look. "It was not a simple scratch," you corrected, "but he's fine. All I ask is that you rest for today. That should be enough, with your metabolism."

"Go rest, now, or you won't hear the end of it with this one," Sam said, gesturing in your direction.

"He's right," Natasha joined in. "She's secretly quite bossy."

You smiled to her. "I have to be! None of you listen to medical advice, so I have to be assertive. It's for your own good."

"And we love you for it," Steve added with a grin. "Now go put this guy to bed."

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle lightly, making him reach for his healing wound. It was obviously still hurting a little. You finally left the others and took him to your bathroom. Your bathtub was lower than the floor, which allowed you to sit on the edge as Bucky got in, after taking off his clothes, staying in his underwear. None of you spoke a word as you washed his hair and rubbed the remaining blood off of his skin. You ended up plunging your legs in the tub and let Bucky rest his head on your knees as you ran your fingers through his hair, silence embracing you both.

"Are you still hurting?" you asked.

"Only a little." He seized one of your hands and kissed your fingers. "Thank you," he added.

"Don't thank me, I'm doing what I vowed to do."

A smile made its way to Bucky's face as he sat up and turned around. "Do you wash every single of your patients' hair?"

You shook your head. "No. That's the unexpected, coffee-spilling, caring soulmate package."

He looked hesitant for the smallest second before extending his arms, waiting for a hug.

"You're soaked," were the only  words to come out of your mouth.

"Do you care? Your pants are already in the water, so..."

"Might as well," you said, finishing his sentence. You leaned on the bathtub's edge as your knees hit the bottom. Resting on your arms, you were only a few inches away from Bucky's face. You pressed your lips against his and closed your eyes, wondering what allowed it to feel so good. You didn't give a damn about your clothes anymore and they were bloody anyway, so you broke the kiss and laid in Bucky's arms, resting your head on his chest and your legs entangling. You'd made sure the water was warm enough and it still hadn't cooled off, thankfully.

"We probably shouldn't stay in here," you admitted. "We might just fall asleep and drown."

"Now that would be a shame," he agreed. "Just a few more minutes then. Please?"

You tilted your head up to look him in the eyes and smirked.

"I'll give you all the minutes you want, Buck."

--- Damn, I sure loved writing this part. I hope you liked it too! Part 13 will be the last one. :)

Tag list : @ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @bluemoon-icecream @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell @lizajane3 @livingonkpop @kaitieskidmore1

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Bonding Exercise - Chapter 4

DT 17 Fanfiction

Summary: Scrooge is sick of Della and Launchpad fighting over the Sunchaser, which is costing him money, so he sends them on a 40 hour flight and orders them to sort out their differences.

Chapter 1

***

Della snorted awake and blinked the glare from her eyes wearily. The bedspread in front of her was a crisp white, reflecting brightly the beam of sunlight that crept through the window and across the hospital bed to finally rouse her. The hospital bed. And all the events on the aeroplane came flooding back to her.

"Oh hey, you're awake." Launchpad sat upright at the top of the bed, propped up by pillows. His arm was in a sling, a proper one, and the bandage around his upper arm was a lot neater than the blood-soaked mess Della had been able to do for him. He had his phone in his good hand. But he smiled at her faintly and immediately put it face down on his bedside table.

"So are you." When Della had finally fallen asleep last night, Launchpad had been entirely out of it. She had not expected to see him awake.

"I, er… woke up maybe an hour ago. It would've been hard to go back to sleep anyway. You were snoring like a freight train."

Della flushed. "Um… sorry."

Launchpad's gaze lowered. "Did you stay here all night?"

Della nodded. It had been morning when the woman from the station who'd contacted them made it to the aeroplane. Launchpad had still been out of it, and Della had hoped that was simply because he was sleeping off the creature's venom. They'd somehow managed to heft him into their rescuer's jeep. When Della had asked her what the thing that attacked them was and whether it was venomous, she had simply shrugged and said: "Probably. Everything out here is."

It had only been the few hours, late in the afternoon, when they'd finally traversed the miles of red dirt road and got Launchpad to a hospital, and he'd been taken into surgery, that the doctors had insisted Della had to wait outside.

"Of course. I promised I wouldn't leave you alone."

"Thanks, Della," Launchpad said quietly. "That means a lot."

Della glanced at Launchpad's phone. The device was no longer an annoyance to her. He'd been so upset on the plane, and it made sense, but she still didn't fully understand what had gone on. "Did…" she asked tentatively, "did your parents get your messages?"

Launchpad winced. "I said stuff about them, didn't I? Back on the plane."

"Sort of. Look, you were really out of it. I get if it's not something you want to talk about with me…"

"Those messages hadn't sent yet. So I deleted them. I think they would've freaked my parents out. They freaked me out. I know I was stressing about talking to them, but I didn't actually realise…" Launchpad gulped. "I didn't realise how badly I wanted them to be there for me. Even though they haven't always been. I don't even remember writing those messages. But that's what it sounded like from reading them."

Launchpad had his legs crossed under the covers, leaving free space at the bottom of the bed. Della scooted herself up into it. "LP, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise you had all this going on. I get why you didn't tell me. I mean, you've never talked about your family before. But I thought you were playing on your phone because you were ignoring me, and you weren't interested in not fighting, even for Dewey, and… I'm sorry. I've been acting like a complete and utter jerk." She hung her head.

"You weren't the only one. I'm sorry too."

"At least you had a good reason."

"Not really. I mean, yeah, I was distracted. I probably should've just replied to my parents instead of worrying about it for, like, an entire week. But I haven't spoken to them in years. I thought they didn't want to have anything to do with me. So I'm not sure how to talk to them, and I guess I froze up. But… I replied to them just now. I told them I missed them, and… they haven't responded yet. But I think they're probably asleep or something. I'll… I'll figure it out.

Launchpad plucked at the bedsheet as he spoke and wouldn't meet Della's gaze. "But it's not the only reason I've been a jerk and fighting with you and avoiding you. I…." He gulped, then looked up at her as he plunged ahead. "Della, ever since I started working for Mr McDee, and then flying his plane, and Dewey and his brothers came to live at the manor, and we all started going on adventures, and… you guys have been more of a family to me than my parents were. I don't feel like I'm getting in the way, even though I sometimes do and…

"And then you came back from the moon. And I'm really happy for Dewey. It's great he gets to have such a good mom, but… you're a pilot too. And you're way better at it than me, and… you're actually family. I haven't been able to go on as many adventures, and that was okay because I get it but… but now Dewey's learning to be a pilot as well." His shoulders sagged. "I'm pretty sure he's better than me already. I'm sure he'll even be great at landing. I'm really proud of him and all, but… now you've got yet another pilot and… is Mr McDee even going to need me?"

Della stared at him until she realised he actually expected her to answer his question. "Launchpad…" She reached out without thinking and grasped his hand. She felt his fingers tense at her touch, wrapping around hers. "Even if Scrooge doesn't need you, I… I want you to help teach Dewey about flying too."

"Come on, Della. You don't want me teaching Dewey anything. I'm a lousy pilot, and you wouldn't have yelled at me so much if…"

"No, listen to me. Yeah, I was mad. But that was before I freaked out trying to land in a dust storm because I was worried my friend would bleed out behind me. The way you talked me through the crash, you need to teach that to Dewey. I mean, I don't want him to crash, but sometimes you have to, and, well… you didn't freak out even though you'd pretty much just been stabbed…"

"You really want me to help teach him?"

"Yeah, really. Just ask me whenever you want to take him up, okay? Don't do it behind my back."

Launchpad nodded. He smiled faintly. "Hey, I guess we can be nice to each other. If we try."

Della smiled back. "Dewey's right. We should be friends, even if we fight a bit. And that's okay. As long as we promise not to be jerks to each other. Deal?"

"Deal. And thanks…" Launchpad glanced briefly at his phone. "It does mean a lot, you know, that you were there for me when I needed someone."

Della swallowed. "Launchpad, your parents…"

"What about Mr McDee?"

"About…"

"He's mad about how much money we're spending on the… the Cloudslasher. If he gets sick of it, it's not you he's going to fire."

Della sighed. "The… the Sunchaser."

Launchpad blinked at her.

"Come on, LP, I named her when I was like nineteen. Sunchaser suits her a lot more. She might be big and clunky, but she's dependable and… I don't know, she sort of reminds me of you. But like Dewey said, we both love her. So assuming we can scrape her up off the desert floor, if Scrooge doesn't want double the maintenance costs, then between the both of us, we should be able to halve them instead."

Launchpad squinted. "Wait, so half is…"

"Huh?"

"Half of what it should be, or what we're spending on it now, or… ? Do we have to think about fractions because they really stress me out…"

Della groaned. "You know what? I'll get Huey to do the maths. All we've got to do is work together to figure out how to make it less. Plus, we should be taking care of the old girl properly anyway."

Launchpad's phone chirped on his bedside, and he visibly flinched. He reached out his hand for it, then paused.

"You know what, I can go get some coffee?"

"Er, I'm not sure I'm allowed to have coffee right now."

"I… LP, I'm going to leave the room for a bit."

"Oh, yeah, okay." Launchpad pulled the phone towards him, took a deep breath, and unlocked the screen.

Della left him and went in search of a coffee machine. She did feel a little better now. And not just because Launchpad was awake and seemed to be doing okay. Finally, they were talking to each other, and it felt like a weight of frustration had lifted from her chest. She just wished it hadn't taken Launchpad getting hurt to push them into it.

Still, Della was pretty sure one life-threatening experience didn't put them anywhere near close enough for her to start butting into his personal life. It had only been the dose of venom in Launchpad's system, on top of everything else, which had resulted in him breaking down on her. She would give him the privacy he needed to work out whatever was happening between him and his parents.

But whatever that was was hurting him, and Della realised she cared. She didn't want to see Launchpad in a mess like back on the Sunchaser. But, apart from being there for him when he was hurt, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do about it.

But like Dewey had asked of them, maybe the place to start was to just try and be friends.

***

Author's note: Done! If you've enjoyed please feel free to leave me any comments. I usually try to respond. :)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ A LOT OF SAND AND WAVES ❜

with Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa.

Request: none. Yesterday I went to the beach with my family and that fluffy idea came to me like a flash light. Thanks to everyone who help me to decide!

Word count: about 3.1k

Warnings: none. Just a bunch of fluff.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @thedevilsmoonshine

Masterlist.

“Hey, girl!”

“Hey, what’s up, Leti?”

“Are you working?”

“Yeah, till four, why?”

“Don’ ask me how I did it, but I convinced the guys to go tomorrow to the beach. In San Diego”.

“Sounds good, but I’m not sure if I could go. I have a surgery waiting, and you know…”

“Yeah, your hands. Is it too long?”

“Maybe six or seven hours, not sure”.

“C'mon, mami! You said you don't work until next Thursday!”

Gilly's shouts make you laugh rubbing your eyes.

“Okay I'll try, I'll try. I promise”.

“We will go to Mission Bay. So if you want, we see you there!”

Hanging up the call and giving a last sip to your coffee, you throw the empty paper cup to the bin. Checking the hour on your phone, you know that it's going to be a long, long night. But the idea of spending some time with Bishops makes you tickle in your stomach. Coco introduced you to the crew almost a year ago, like a friend, and he stole your attention. At the first party you joined them, you were almost the whole dawn with him. Dancing, drinking, talking. He was more interesting and funny than you could think, and maybe you felt somekind of connection that you never felt before. So, yes. You would like to go with them, but you have to wait till waking up tomorrow to find out if your hands can handle a four hours trip driving.

“Good morning, bella durmiente! How was the surgery?”.

“Hm… my hands are fucked”.

“So, it went well, we have to celebrate it”.

“Yeah, but… not sure if I can drive to San Diego”.

“Oh, c'mon, please… We're gonna stay here by night too. Coming back tomorrow, take a bus! I'm sure Bishop would b—”.

“Stop!” You say laughing loud to your phone over the bed, while you do some exercise with all your fingers to bring back some mobility.

“(Y/N), you know that it's an amazing opp— Angel already bought you a ticket. In one hour. Sending you by email, bye!”

Before you can complain about it, she has already hung up the call. You end up serving some coffee in a termo, before picking up your towel and some clean clothes, besides an external battery and some hygienic stuff. Bandaging your hands, over a thin layer of cortisone cream, you're ready to walk to the bus station of Santo Padre, ten minutes away from your house. At least, you have three hours of trip to rest a little more, falling asleep as soon as you sit down on your seat. So the next time you open your eyes, you're already in San Diego. Waiting for the other passengers to get out, closing and opening your hands once and again, you step out then. Carrying your bag in your right shoulder and your phone in the left hand, you wear the pair of sunglasses looking for Bishop.

“Eh, boxer”.

His hoarse voice calls your attention, finding him next to the entrance, resting against his motorbike. You can't help but draw a soft and tired smile on your lips, leading your steps towards him, raising both hands on air to show the man your cool white bandages with black stripes. The mexican receives you into his arms in a gentle and dearly hug, surrounding your lower back and your neck for some long seconds.

“The guys are waiting for us to have lunch”.

“Cool… Last time I ate was nine and it was dark”. You just say placing well on your bag, before setting on the helmet.

The drive doesn't take you more than ten minutes, grabbed to Bishop's abdomen and with your chin over his shoulder. You can see him smiling like a fool, knowing that he's delighted that you're going to join them. But mostly, because you are with him. The warm and soft breeze of San Diego makes you close your eyes, fully relaxed, focusing on the smell that floods your lungs, mixing the salty ocean's and Bishop's scent. Your arms surround his body somewhat tight, feeling one of his hands caressing your right thigh with his huge hands placed on and his thumb making the honors over your skin, bristling it without mercy. But much to your regret, the engine stops some short minutes before, standing up from the bike when you're able to do it.

“Give me your bag, querida. I'm going to be your nurse today”. He says, after keeping the helmet you used with the other.

“Qué caballeroso…” (What a gentleman). You tease him, as if normally he isn't.

“Just earning a beach-quickl—”.

“Fuck, Bishop!” You laugh, hitting his shoulder, regretting it immediately when a lash of pain crosses your palm.

“That's called karma”. He says walking backwards to the entrance, pointing you with a finger. “The women are always asking for men's sincerity, and when we give you… You're too violent to be this small, preciosa”.

“Pendejo”.

“YAY, YOU CAME!” Leti looks surprised, making you twist back your head confused.

“Sounds like if… I had another option”. You purr with your lips, before greeting the guys. “Tell me y—”.

“I did”. Taza just says, seeing you pout at him before hugging you. “I will give you a massage later”.

“Mi angelito de la guarda”. (My guardian angel). You can't help but sigh a little alleviated, knowing that he brought a cream he makes with weed oil, coco water and aloe vera.

Actually, it was a good idea to come to the beach, having so much fun in the lunch by seeing all the men more relaxed than in Santo Padre. Being normal people. A family enjoying two days off from all the problems and the dangers they're sinked in every damn day. Bishop was focused on you the whole time, serving your drink in the glass, cutting your food into pieces so you can have to do any effort (...). Everything under the sideways looks of the others. Sometimes you look like another couple with simple gestures, that both do delighted.

After having full enough your stomachs, the guys lead you to the beach where they left the umbrellas and the towels, placing yours next to Bishop's and sitting there after taking off your clothes, but on your black bikini. Unveiling your hands, you do your best to spread the sunscreen all over your body, until the mexican grabs the bottle from your fingers to sit behind you with a ‘lean forward’ on his lips. Feeling his cold hands because the cream on your back gives you a soft chill, curling your legs against your chest and resting your chin over them. Closing your eyes, focusing all your senses on every move he does, you try not to fall asleep. Starting by your shoulders and pressing your neck with both thumbs, his hands travel down your spine making sure he's helping you to get somewhat less tense, at the same time that puts well on the sunscreen.

When it's ready, he stands up on his feet to grab Taza's cream to help you with your hands. That time, he kneels in front of you, spreading it from your forearms to the tip of your fingers, so carefully and concentrated, that you can't help but look at him with a goofy smile until it's done.

“Thank you”. You just say.

“Anytime, querida”. He whispers, pulling a tuft of your hair behind your right ear, leaning towards you to kiss your cheek. “What do you want to do now?”

“I think I need twenty minutes more of sleep, but you can go with the guys to the water, if you want”. Shrugging your shoulders, you let your back fall down to the towel.

“I spend too much time with them, and I haven't seen you a single second for the last four days”. He chuckles lying by your side, straining an arm under your neck to put you closer to him. “Let me enjoy at least twenty minutes”.

His resigned sigh makes you laugh almost in silence, while his free hand gets placed on your back, leaving some ephemeral caresses from top to bottom. And you feel as if you were in paradise. You're practically drinking each other's breathings, with closed eyes and your nose touching Bishop's. Your fingers get tangled slightly in the short hair of the mexican, taking pleasure of the peace that it's surrounding you right now.

“I didn't want you to come”. He mutters from nowhere, not opening his eyes, not opening yours. With a calm tone of voice, a little sleepy.

“Why?”

“You were tired, your hands hurt. You need to rest, (Y/N)”.

“I'm resting now. And I couldn't ask for a better way to do it. I think I'm gonna complain about my hands often, so you will take care of me”.

Bishop chuckles drowsy, shaking his head just for a second.

“Anything else, su majestad?” (Your Majesty).

“A kiss”. Murmuring, you get somewhat comfy under his arms.

You're aware of the same desire to kiss you that he feels for you, as you feel, but on the other hand, you weren't expecting him to really do it. His lips gently press yours, before catching them among his. Traveling down one of your hands to the side of his neck, Bishop holds you closer, keeping a low pace of his mouth enjoying the taste and the touch of yours. Unconsciously and by inertia, your left right surrounds his waist. His fingers touring your thigh slowly, makes your first kiss a little better. Biting softly his lower lip, you steal him a heavy sigh, stretching your skin under his huge hand. He wants you closer, and you too. But for the moment, that's pretty enough.

“You should complain about your hands often”. He mumbles almost touching your lips with every syllable.

“I will”.

Sinking your face into his neck, you're trying to fall asleep focused on his breath, hearing a bunch of steps over the sand coming closer. Some whispers talking about you two, thinking that you're sleeping but you're actually trying not to laugh, feeling how Bishop gets a little tense because of the low comments.

“Don't forget I'm your fucking boss”. Bishop growls, freezing everyone's blood. And you can't help but break into laughter.

“Shit”. Coco soughs hiding behind Angel's back, because the oldest Reyes is the tallest of all.

“Nah, c'mon, Bish. Enjoy your d—”.

Before Angel can finish the sentence, the mexican hits his leg, making him fall down over Coco. A lot of cursing in spanish appears under the umbrellas, getting mixed with the loud laughs that make you sit up on your towel almost drowning. Watching them trying to get up only makes it better.

“Oh, man, I wish I could record it”. Gilly's laughs are over the others, with an arm on Creeper's left shoulder. “Damn, prez, repeat it, please…”

“Stop bothering him”. You say holding the angry man between your arms, before lying again on your towels.

“Pendejos mal paridos…” He barks mumbling.

“Don't listen to them”.

“I'm… going to fuck them up as soon as we retur—”.

“Obispo, stop”. You chuckle, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek.

Finally, you are able to sleep for some minutes, while the guys share some beers playing cards, listening latin music in a low volumen to not continue annoying him. And even if you don't rest for more than twenty or thirty minutes, it's like you have been sleeping for the whole day, because of the comfort you feel under his grip and the caresses in your hair. Opening again your eyes, you raise up your head over his shoulders to find half of the crew on their towels, and the other half playing with a bouncy ball on the shore, just like kids. Taking the advantage that no one is looking, to avoid that they tease you again, you press your lips onto his. Slowly, calmly, with his arms hugging your body tightly as Bishop tucks his tongue in your mouth peacefully looking for yours. You feel some tickles in your stomach when they meet, as he feels more relaxed. El Presidente really is into you. He really has more feelings than he wants to admit, until he knows that you have the same sensation on your chest every time you are close to him. Now, he's seeing it. That maybe you two are having a good opportunity.

And you don't want to stop, drowning a slight gasp against his mouth when it gets a little intense that you expected, forgetting for a second where you are and who is surrounding you. Fucking the especial moment when you hear Coco saying that the hotel rooms are already booked, and that you can ocuppy yours whenever you want. Bishop is about to get up, when you stop him by a hand on his chest. You're going to take care of it this time. Shaking the sand on your body, you wear his sunglasses, walking towards the crew in the water. Coco is looking at you somewhat confused, while the president calls Taza, Tranq and Riz attention to enjoy the show. And before he can say anything else, or ask about what you are going to do seeing how you open, close and repeat the gesture with your right hand, you hit his temple with your palm. And it hurts a little, but the laugh is worth everything.

“Yo! Mami! What was that?!” He complains offended.

“A wave”. You just say, provoking that every laughter of your friends gets louder.

“Mami…” He pouts at you, rubbing that side of his face.

“Do you want a tsunami?”

He doesn't answer, while Leti starts to cough in tears.

“I imagined”. You add then, narrowing your eyes under the aviator sunglasses.

Coming back to the umbrellas, the eldest members clap at you while making them a feigned reverence.

After having a deserved shower in the room you're going to share with Gabriela and Leti, you fall down over the bed waiting for them to get ready for some party time after dinner. And while they choose dresses, more makeup that you have never put on and high heels, you choose some comfy shorts, a white body with bare back and your sneakers. Of course, you're not in that mood after four horrible nights working. Before leaving the hotel, you apply a few more cream on your hands, feeling so much better and using clean bandages to cover them. Meeting the guys at the hall, you go out to find a place to have some dinner, ending up in the same restaurant you have been at noon. The food is pretty good, so you go to the secure one. But this time is a little different since then.

You can't avoid having your right hand on Bishop's nape, caressing his scalp while the table talks about everything and nothing at the same time, laughing and enjoying. Urging you to put your right leg over his left, hanging from it, he caresses your thigh a little assorted as if it was something normal, and natural on him. But it's not, and that makes that gesture more special. You couldn't ask for anything better, until he kisses your cheek without expecting to place his free arm over your shoulders, without caring about if Coco or Angel dares to make another of their occurrences. You two are very sure that you made them understand to not fuck up with Bishop in front of you, even if you find it funny.

Outside of the restaurant, after having a revitalizing dinner, the crew begin to propose different plans. But the mere fact of thinking in a crowded place, with loud music and a mix of smells, makes you yawn inevitably. Leti is killing you with her gaze.

“Yo! Bitch, don' you dare to tell me that you're goen' to sleep”.

“I did—”. Trying to excuse yourself, Bishop interrupts you.

“She doesn't. But I am an old man who needs his eight hours of sleep”.

“Then, good night, mummy”. She's about to take you off from his arms, while he turns around to give her his back.

“I need a nurse to take care of my disabilities”.

“C'mon, Bish! You've been hoarding her the whole day! And I invited her, not you!” She frowns while you laugh. “I hope at least you make her cum…”

“Leticia!” You shout, while Coco palms her nape.

“Mummies don' cum, you dumbass, they just… lie do—”.

“Angel, I swear I am going to break your legs next time”.

“Whatever, Tutankhamun. Enjoy your night”. Your friend rolls her eyes with a heavy sigh.

“We can come back next week, when I have holidays”. You say palming her forehead, making her laugh before leaving back to the hotel.

And you just get separated in it enough time to clean your teeth and grab the charger for your phone, going to his room after that. You're not nervous, but a little excited of having some time alone. Finally. Not to do anything specifically, but to enjoy him being de-stressed. While he's in the bathroom, you take off your clothes to wear the shirt he has left for you on the mattress. Smells like him and that it's driving you insane, crawling over the bed to fall close to the pillows, fighting against your tiredness to not fall asleep this soon.

Having your eyes closed, you feel the side next to yours sinking a little, until his strong arms find your body to wrap it against his chest after turning off the lights. Turning under his grip and intertwining your hands and your legs, Bishop rests his cheek on yours, being able to see part of the pacific ocean from the window in front of your eyes. It's magic. Pure magic.

“Listen…” He mutters getting somewhat comfy, having a deep breath his nose sinked into your neck. “Maybe I can't promise you a life that a normal man could give you, but I'm going to make it worth every second”.

“Bish”.

“Hm…?”

“Do you love me?”.

“Yes, I do, preciosa”.

“That's everything I need”. Turning just a little, you smirk softly at him. “I don't want a normal life. I want to spend it with you”.

“I hope you never regret these words”.

“I only could regret them because they aren't enough to express how I feel when you're close to me. When you touch me. When you pronounce my name”. Replying that, you lie down again under his grip, leaving a soft kiss on his right forearm. “I love you, Bishop. I couldn't regret it”.

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[kyber-crystal]

Biting The Bullet

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~1.4k (wow kinda on the shorter side)

Summary: In which he’d do anything to keep his best girl out of harm’s way, even if that meant putting his own life in danger.

Warnings: slight mentions of violence/injury, angst but with a happy ending (I’m a hoe for this trope), stern and soft steve ;-)

A/N: I’ve been stuck on this oneshot for the past several days sflwlww it was such a pain in the butt. but here’s some soft angst for you :)

Tags: DEDICATING THIS TO MY LOVELY @wxstedhexrt​ I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH BBY

After spending all day in the medbay waiting for Steve to come out of surgery, you were exhausted. Sam tried forcing you to get some rest but you refused, sticking by his side all night, hoping and praying for a miracle. You felt your chest ache with guilt.

You were the reason why he was currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It was you who caused him to end up like this.

Eventually you're too exhausted to continue. After fifty-two consecutive hours of staying awake, both counting before and after the mission, you allowed Bucky to take you back to your room, gently laying you down in bed and pulling the covers over you.

You could've knocked out for two hours or two days. It was 3 a.m. when you came to and you found yourself craving some coffee now that you were unable to fall back asleep. Sliding your feet into your slippers, you padded down the hallway. You paused in the middle of the kitchen when you saw someone approaching.

"Y/N?"

"Steve? What the hell are you doing awake right now? You should be in bed, resting. "

Steve's jaw clenched as he watched you for a long moment, silent. He looked almost too good to be true, standing there in his grey sweats and black, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying his toned and muscular forearms. You could make out hints of dried blood staining the bandages around his torso - and quickly looked away. You didn't need another reminder of what had happened. You were guilt-tripping yourself enough already.

"Are you brave or are you stupid?" were the first words out of your mouth after several moments of awkward silence.

"I was just doing my job, Y/N. How is that stupid?"

"Because you almost got yourself killed," you gritted your teeth. "Your job was not to almost die out there, Captain."

"Well then, if you're so insistent, then I'm sorry-"

"I want an explanation, not an apology."

"Fine," he sighed crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll make this short and simple. There was a guy ready to shoot you. You were busy fighting off another guy. He shoots, you die. I can't just let that happen when I know I'm capable of preventing your death, so I jump in and take the hit for you."

"And you almost died, Steve."

"So what if I did? At least I'd die knowing your life was spared. Isn't that enough?"

"'So what if I did?' Are you fucking serious?" He visibly bristles at your harsh tone. "What is it with your completely blatant disregard for your own safety? I can't - if you actually died, I don't-"

"Y/N, it was for the best. The least you can do is be grateful-"

"No," you hissed, "I don't think you understand. What if you actually died? How do you think I'd feel? I don't even wanna think about how I'd feel if that happened. If you died, then the blame is all on me because I was the reason behind it. I don't know if I can live with that. I can't- I can't lose you. I'm terrified of losing you, I was scared shitless and I thought you were gone for good and I - I thought I'd never be able to see you again. My biggest fear has always been losing those I cared about and for one horrifying moment...I thought it had come true."

Your chest was heaving as you finished, heart beating so fast it was difficult to take in a breath without feeling faint. You felt your eyes sting with tears but quickly blinked them back. You weren't about to cry in front of him, but your attempts proved futile when you felt those tears slipping down your cheeks. You balled your hands into fists and bit your bottom lip.

His bright blue eyes wistfully looked straight into yours, making you feel as if you would pass out at any moment. The way he seemed to stare deep into your soul, the way he gazed at you with a softened look in his features that made you weak at the knees.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you questioned. "Stop looking at me with that- just stop."

"Like what?"

"Like you care. Stop looking at me like you care about me. Stop doing that."

"I do care," he murmured lowly. "Y/N, I did it because I care about you."

"You...you what?"

"If it were you who had taken that hit, and not me, you would've died on the spot."

"You dropped your job just to take a bullet for me. You compromised your own safety just to take a bullet for me. You compromised the entire team's safety. You willingly risked the lives of millions for one person. Why?"

"Because it's not just one life...it's yours."

A broken sob escaped your lips. "Who am I to you that you'd put your life on the line for me?"

"My everything."

You froze. Surely you hadn't heard him right. He was joking. He was lying. He couldn't possibly be telling the truth. He didn't actually care.

But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

He took a step forward and his hand moved to the nape of your neck as the other rested on the small of your back, pulling you closer as your heart raced at what had to be at least a million miles per hour. It was quite ironic - an Avenger who could handle almost everything thrown her way, was weakened by love?

Before you knew it your lips were centimeters apart - so close that you could feel his breath against your neck as he hovered above you - and you're pretty sure that your heart just stopped.

Then finally, he closed the gap between you and gently pressed his lips to yours. Instead of the explosive feeling of fireworks or your stomach doing somersaults, a bubbly feeling began spreading from your head all the way down to your toes. It tasted of your tears and hell, his tears, too, your heartbreak and guilt and his heartbreak and you felt weightless, like were drifting through open space, and the only thing keeping you fully tethered to Earth was the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your hips. With the touch of his lips, you were home. He was your home.

But as soon as he pulled away, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged him back towards you to kiss him a second time, unwilling to let go of him just yet.

If it weren't for having to take a breath of air, you most likely would have gone on all night. And even when you did pull apart, he was reluctant to do so - the last time he let you out of his sight, he almost lost you.

It was a silly fear to have, but he couldn't help but feel a burning obligation to take you under his wing and hold you tight, and keep you safe here in his arms. Fearing for your safety and wellbeing was almost second nature. It was a primary instinct of his to always check up on you and make sure you were safe - he'd been doing so ever since you first met.

He didn't have to ask you to know you'd stayed by his side the entire time, crying and crying for hours on end until your throat felt too scratchy and sore from sobbing hysterically. He knows, he knows what he did was going to upset you but in that moment, he knew he had to do something as there was nothing between you and the bullet, and he dove into the crossfire headfirst without a second thought.

Because if things ever came down to it, he'd willingly die if it meant you got to live.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, burying his face into your hair. "I promise you I'm not going anywhere this time...Darling, don't cry...I'm so sorry."

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against his broad shoulder as you willed yourself not to break down a second time.

"I love you. You don't have to say it back...I just wanted you to know. And that's why I'd die before letting anything happen to you. Because I love you more than anything."

"You really think I wouldn't say it back? You idiot," you muttered. "I love you too."

Steve let out a shuddering sigh, hugging you even tighter. "I love you so much."

"I know."

(Yes, he did understand that reference.)