#did they not have time to stitch it in the car? how did they bandage and sling nightfall

[cheswirls]

i don't keep up w spy x family regularly so i end up reading ~10 chapters all at once which i think is a good thing bc if i had to wait week to week during some of these intense arcs i would go insane

[postracehair]

paying attention

max verstappen x reader | 1.7k

a minor accident on a night out forces you to call the one guy you're not sure about. will a hospital waiting room clear things up between you?

cw: enemiesish-to-lovers, some blood (from charles), drunkenness (from charles), a hospital

a/n: first time here. let's see how this goes. __

The club is loud, crowded, and sweaty. You are tired, sober, and searching the sea of people for a certain silhouette. 

"He's not here." Oscar grins at you and takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling. "Max," he says. 

You frown. 

"I'm not --"

"Sure, you're not," he says. 

You're not entirely certain how you got here -- a club in the middle of Monaco with some of the most famous and wealthy guys in the world. An invite from a friend of a friend one time became two times became you rubbing elbows with the likes of Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc and...

Max Verstappen. Who is not here. Which is good, because --

"Why do you hate him, by the way?" Oscar asks. You huff. 

This would be much more bearable if you had a drink in your hand. "I don't." 

Oscar smirks at you. "It's that time he spilled a gin and tonic on you, I bet. You were so mad, I thought he was going to --"

The Australian keeps talking but you stop listening. Your heart beats in time with the thumping music. 

It's not that you hate Max. That would be exaggerating. You just don't know what to make of him. The times he's been out when you're there he's...fine. He makes sure everyone gets on the list, he buys people drinks, and he dances. But you've never really talked to him and maybe you're a little intimidated. Or maybe Oscar is right -- he did spill a drink on you. He probably apologized, but you were too pissed and embarrassed to remember. 

It sounds silly when you think about it now. 

"--just last week, he was saying that he thinks you --"

"Oh, shit!"

"No, Charles, don't!"

"Fuck --"

You and Oscar whirl around to see Charles pressing a rapidly reddening napkin to his palm.  

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What happened?"

The glass crunching under your shoes as you head over answers your question. 

"Whoops," Charles says, shrugging. His eyes are glassy and cheeks pink and you know before you lift the napkin that he needs stitches. 

"We're going to the hospital," you say. You think through the logistics -- can you get him there without calling an ambulance? You're not certain where the nearest emergency room is, nor if you can avoid the paparazzi. 

"Call Max," he protests, seeing your mind spinning even through his drunken haze, but you ignore him. 

"Now, Charles." You tug on his sleeve. "Keep this arm up."

It's clear that you're the most sober one here, so you tell the group you're taking him. Hardly anyone notices. Maybe they're all drunk or they just trust you with the Prince of Monaco. Who is being very annoying as you pull him out of the club and into the warm night.

"Call Max," he says again. 

"I heard you, Charles," you say. "We don't need to call him, I'll just call a car--"

"Nooo," he whines. "Just call Max. He'll take us." He shoves his phone at you and holds his injured hand high in the air like you told him to. 

Max will... probably answer. It's summer break and Charles seems to think he's at home. On his sim, or streaming, or whatever really rich guys do at home on a Friday night in Monaco. 

Before you can overthink it, you press the name on Charles's phone and hold it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, man," Max says. 

"Um, hey." There's a pause, and then Max says your name. 

"Why do you have Charles's phone?"

You look over at your friend who is examining his poorly bandaged hand. "Du, du, du, du, Max Verstappen," he hums. 

"Can you come get us? Charles cut himself on a glass and needs to get stitches."

"He -- what?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late --"

"Where are you?" It sounds like he's moving around, keys jangling, a door closing.

"I can call a car, but he told me to call you --"

"Where are you?"

You tell him the club name and he hums. "Be there in 10. Don't leave."

"We're not going anywhere," you huff, but he's already hung up.

"Told you," Charles says, knocking his shoulder with yours. You roll your eyes and push his elbow back in the air. 

Max pulls up in a sleek four-door car in way less than 10 minutes. Charles happily gets in the back before you can say otherwise and you only hesitate for a second before sliding into the passenger seat. 

"Don't bleed on the leather, man," Max says, stepping on the gas as soon as your door is closed. The car hums under you and the streets of Monaco start to fly by. "And put your seatbelt on." 

"It's not that bad," Charles whines. "She's worrying too much."

You huff. Max slows to a stop at a red light.

"Hey," he says. It takes a second to register that he's speaking to you. You finally look at him and find his brow furrowed, jaw tight, almost as if he's actually worried. Maybe he is, even if it's just a cut. Or maybe he really is afraid Charles will get blood on the seat.

"Hi," you say. He looks amused for a second then flicks his hand at your waist. 

"Seatbelt applies to you, too."

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry." Your brain does something funny -- for a second, you imagine Max reaching over you to grab the belt and pull it across your torso, clicking it tight at your hip. 

You blink the image away, cheeks hot, and buckle it yourself. 

"Thank you," Max says before he steps on the gas again. 

Charles rambles in the backseat about something and Max humors him while you swallow down whatever the hell the sudden tightness in your chest is. What an inconvenient time to realize you might have a crush.

There's little to no traffic and you make it to the hospital quickly. Max drops you both at the doors and Charles is stumbling his way through them before you can say thank you. You swallow the unfamiliar taste of disappointment at no longer being in Max's company and get Charles situated.

The waiting room is nice, obviously, but empty. You can hear the hum of the overhead lights beneath the faint classical music playing from somewhere and smell whatever bleach they use to keep this place clean. 

"Hospitals are so depressing." 

You straighten in your chair and turn to see Max. You let yourself look. Green hoodie, sweatpants that look soft and expensive, and sneakers.

"I thought you'd go home," you say. He shrugs and flops into the chair next to yours, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"You'll both need a ride when he's done." 

God, he looks tired. "Sorry."

Max leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his face to you. "For what?"

"Calling, I guess." His hair is a mess and you tuck your hands under your thighs so you don't reach for it. God, what is happening to you? "I bet you were busy."

He laughs and it's so unexpected that you laugh, too. "I don't think I'd call cleaning litter boxes busy."

"Well, still," you press. "Thank you."

Max's jaw works like he's chewing on something, eyes on your face. You try very hard not to squirm in your seat. "I think you don't like me very much," he finally says. 

"I -- what --," you sputter. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Why?" you manage to say.

"We don't speak," he says. "You avoid me when we're out, you didn't even call me from your phone--"

"I don't have your phone number," you mutter. 

"And it's fine if you don't," he continues. "I just want to know if I'm right."

He looks unbothered, eyes bright and jaw relaxed but his knee is bouncing. You realize that he's been paying as much attention to you as you have to him. You've been watching each other.

"No," you say, softly. "You're wrong."

His knee stills. "So why the distance?"

You sigh. God, this is not how you expected the night to go. You think back to what Oscar said in the club, to Charles demanding you call Max. Maybe this is something everyone else has seen but you. I thought you didn't like me, you don't say. I thought you didn't even care.

Something about the quiet, empty waiting room and the fluorescents and Max's tone when he told you to put on your seatbelt make you want to be honest.

"I think you're intimidating," you confess. A glance at his face reveals that you've managed to surprise him. His eyes are wide and is he...blushing? "And one time you spilled a drink on me."

That gets him to laugh. 

"Oh, god," he huffs. "That was not very well done of me." He looks at his hands, then back at you. "I owe you one."

"A drink? You didn't spill my drink," you remind him. "You spilled yours on me."

"Ehh," he says, waving his hand in the air. "Details."

Is Max Verstappen asking to buy you a drink? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. Who knew you'd be so affected by this man?

Before you can reply, Charles shoves the ward doors open and calls your name.

"Stop flirting," he says, holding up his bandaged hand with a grin. "Time to go home."

Max glances at you and rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still pink. He stands with a huff, digging his keys out of his pocket. 

Charles, still drunk, clearly, rambles about the stitches and how nice the doctors were as you walk to the car. Max sticks to your side.

"Hey," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" you ask, even as you hand it over to him. His thumbs tap on the screen. 

"Now you can tell me when you're free for that drink." 

He passes it back to you and you see that he's added his number. 

"Are you guys even listening to me?" Charles whines.

"Okay, Max," you say softly. 

He grins at you. 

"Oh my goooood," Charles says. "Come on."

"We hear you, mate," Max says. "Let's go home."

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet

-> part two

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[moonstruckme]

love the doctor!remus content!!!

would love to read about him in a similar setting as the last request u did, where reader doesn’t tell him she‘s had to go to urgent care (maybe she lost her phone) and he‘s in his big scary attending mood but the moment he steps into the room and realizes reader is the patient he goes all concerned and cooing and all the interns are confused as to what happened to calm collected and kinda cool doctor lupin :((((

Thanks love!

cw: hospital, mention of stitches

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You can hear him talking as he moves down the line of small curtained-off rooms, your heart contracting at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice but too shy to interrupt him while he’s working. Remus’ tone is clipped and all business, and you can tell by how quickly his voice draws closer that he’s striding toward you in that brisk way he does when he’s busy. 

“This one’s already been treated,” he’s saying to someone, “so we’re just checking in before discharge. Let me ask some of the necessary questions first, and then we’ll ask the patient’s permission for you to ask some as well.” 

He looks nearly imposing as he whips open the curtain, clipboard in hand and a gaggle of what you guess must be residents on his heels. That all drains away, along with the blood in his face, when he sees you. “Dove?”

“Dove?” you hear one of the residents echo bemusedly. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly. 

Remus steps toward where you sit on the bed, concern etched into the twin lines between his brows. “Honey, what happened? You” —he looks down at his clipboard, flustered— “you got stitches in your hand? What’d you need stitches in your hand for?” 

You glance between the many sets of eyes in the room, self-conscious in the face of so much attention. “I cut myself,” you answer quietly. 

Remus lowers the clipboard, looking devastated for you. “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, but the reprimand in his tone is barely detectable behind all the fondness coating it. He holds out a hand. “Let me see.” 

You give him your hand obediently, doing your best to follow his example and ignore the murmurings from your small audience. He’s painstakingly careful as he removes the bandages to reveal your cut. It looks far better than it had when it had been bleeding all over your car on the drive over, but Remus still coos like it's the most grievous injury he’s seen in his career. 

“Seven stitches?” His lips turn down into a pout. “What’d you do to yourself, dovey?” 

You see one resident’s eyebrows fly up at the sappy pet name, exchanging a look with the one next to him. 

“I was trying to cut up the squash I bought last week,” you explain, unsure if you’re supposed to be talking to the room but directing your words only to your boyfriend, “and my knife slipped. I was going to call you when it wouldn't stop bleeding, but my phone died. I didn’t have time to charge it before I came.” 

Remus makes a gruff, reluctant sound of approval. “Well, I’m glad you came but I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you. Did it hurt very badly?” 

“Not really,” you lie quietly, but one of the residents behind you goes, “Doctor Lupin, is that one of the necessary questions we’re meant to be asking?” 

You flush, and Remus shifts modes in an instant, his look severe as he turns on the smart aleck. “No,” he says drily. “But this is still the portion where you’re meant to be quiet.” 

You sort of feel for the resident as they nod abashedly. Remus countenance warms again as he turns back towards you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he says, still cradling your injured hand in his.

“It wasn’t too bad.”

“Baby.” Remus’ brows scrunch together, the sympathy in his eyes almost too much for you to bear. “I can tell you’ve been crying, darling.” 

“Remus,” you chide embarrassedly, looking again to the residents gathered behind him. 

“Ah.” He drops a hand to your knee for an apologetic squeeze, turning to face your observers with more of an authoritative air. “Go find somewhere else to be,” he tells them. 

They scatter like mice, and Remus huffs when the last one out doesn’t shut the curtain, stepping away from you to draw it closed himself. 

“Sorry, I sort of forget they’re there sometimes,” he explains, but he’s already doubling down on the sweetness now that they’re gone, bringing your injured palm to his lips for a very, very gentle kiss. “Did you cry while they stitched you up, honey?” 

You might cry again now if he keeps looking at you like that. “A little,” you admit. “I was being a tad dramatic.” 

“I doubt that,” he says, thumb stroking lovingly over the line of stitches before picking up the bandage and beginning to rewrap it. “Hand wounds are no light thing. It probably bled a lot, hm?”

“There may be some cleanup waiting for me in both the kitchen and my car,” you joke. Remus gives you a small smile for your efforts. 

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it when I get home.” He finishes bandaging your hand and leans in to kiss your cheek. When he pulls back, his eyebrows have bunched again. “You’ve got mascara tracks on your cheeks,” he murmurs, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over the plane of your cheekbone. “S’breaking my heart.” 

“Sorry,” you say bashfully, and he rolls his eyes at you, pecking you again on the cheek like he can’t help himself. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm? Well,” he seems to reconsider, “you ought to be sorry about your knife skills, but that’s an apology you owe yourself, not me. I’ll be stowing all the knives where you can’t reach them from now on, by the way.” 

“First you’ll have to deal with all the residents you just disillusioned,” you tease him back. “Seems like they used to think you were cool and blase, but not anymore.” 

Remus shrugs. “People are multifaceted. If they didn’t know that already, then I taught them something today after all.” He gives you another soft look, though it’s far less worried than the others had been. “My poor darling,” he laments, setting his hands on either side of you to plant one final kiss on your forehead. “Rest here for a bit, and I’ll come get you in a few minutes, yeah?” 

“Okay, thanks,” you agree readily, happy to have a ride home considering the state you left your car in. “Gonna go try to restore your street cred with the residents?” 

“Dove, don’t be silly,” he says on his way out. “They worship me.” 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Blood and Affection ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 1.6K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, minho worried about his girlfriend, cute, fluffy, worried minho, mafia au,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Mafia!Minhox Fem!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You are in a relationship with Minho, one of the most powerful and feared mafia leaders in Seoul, someone everyone knew never to mess with or lie to which was why you hadn't been surprised when your nurse who was treated you told him where you were.

"Traitor." You whispered to her as you saw his car pulling up in the parking lot. She smirked over at you and shook her head. She, along with everyone else who worked for Minho, had known you a long time.

Your history with Minho ran deep—you were once his top operative, known for your flawless execution of missions and unmatched skill in the field. You'd trained every single day alongside some of the best of the best in the business and you were incredible. Not to toot your own horn anything but you were.

There wasn’t a single task you couldn’t handle, earning you a reputation that made even the most hardened criminals wary of crossing paths with you.

"You knew he was going to find out anyway. I did you a favour." The nurse teased as you rolled your eyes at her playfully. It wasn't anything major. In fact, you felt stupid for it to have even happened in the first place.

You'd been caught completely off guard and left exposed to something that shouldn't have even happened. 

"It's stupid, I wasn't even paying attention." You grumbled more at yourself than the nurse who was with you. But you hated it. How could you have missed something like this? Minho trusted you to be alone without a guard and now you knew that was never going to happen again.

You'd been out in town all morning, taking a rare moment to unwind in town, deciding to treat yourself at the spa and then at the local stores to some new clothes or some books if you'd seen any. But you'd only just left the spar when out of nowhere, you were ambushed by an assailant with a clear intent to kill. 

Though you fought - and incredibly might you add - and managed to eliminate your attacker, you weren’t unscathed. A deep stab wound in your side left you bleeding profusely. The pain had been nearly overwhelming as you'd struggled to stay conscious on the way to the hospital, it was wishful thinking that you could hide it from Minho. The man saw you naked every single night, if you'd somehow managed to hide it from him while your scar healed you'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do for the new scar when you eventually got naked in front of him again. 

"Everyone has an off day," The nurse reminded you as she applied some cream to your stitches, eventually covering it with a bandage as you sighed a little. All you wanted was to go home and pretend the day hadn't even happened.

"But not everyone's off day is going to lead to them needing an armed guard at all times," You smiled at her and she bit her lip softly and nodded in understanding. As you lay back on the bed, trying to process everything that happened, the door burst open with a loud bang and you watched it vibrate off the wall. Minho, your stoic and usually composed former boss and now current boyfriend, storms in with a frantic look on his face. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, are now wide with panic.

“Are you okay?! I heard what happened...” His voice cracks slightly as he hurries to your bedside, his usual air of control slipping away. Normally he was well put together and didn't show any kind of emotion since they were usually held against him but with you, he always let them out. 

"Minho, don't make this a big thing." You laugh weakly but he shakes his head at you. You knew asking him not to make a big deal with a lost cause but you'd figured you'd try anyway. Within a second he was on his knees next to you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours, his gaze scanning your bandaged wound with a mixture of fear and fury. The thought of losing you had him on edge, his usual cold demeanour shattered by the raw emotion he feels for you.

Minho glances up at the nurse, his voice laced with tension. The whole way over he'd been panicking about what he was supposed to do now, he'd already called his guys to arrange protection for you.

“What’s her condition? How long until she’s fully recovered? Are you sure she’s getting the best care?” He peppers the nurse with questions, his usual calm replaced with a sense of urgency. Your nurse opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off as he pointed to the IV that was inserted into your arm,

“And those painkillers—are they strong enough? I don’t want her in any more pain. Is she going to need to stay overnight?” You stroked his hand gently, the small act calming him down within seconds but you could still see just how on edge he was with this whole thing and you nodded at your nurse.

“She’s stable now, sir. The wound was deep, but she was strong. With rest and proper care, she’ll be okay, she should be able to go home as soon as this round of painkillers is done with.” Minho’s gaze flickers back to you, his expression softening as he takes your hand and squeezes it softly. 

“You hear that? You’re going to be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if he needs the reassurance just as much. He placed his lips on top of your hand and kissed softly before shaking his head at you,

"Minho-" You tried to warn but you were quickly cut off,

“But this… this can’t happen again.” He pointed at your wound before leaning in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand and smiling weakly. There was no way he was going to ever let anything happen to you for as long as he lived. 

“From now on, you’re getting extra protection every time you step out. I don’t care if it’s just for a walk or to grab a coffee—you’ll have backup, no exceptions.” His tone leaves no room for argument, the fear of losing you still evident in his eyes. It was going to be pointless arguing with a man who was set in his ways as much as Minho was when it came to your safety,

“I can’t risk anything happening to you again. Not when you mean this much to me.” He whispered, the nurse excused herself once his men began to gather in the room. All of them watched Minho with a smile on their faces. You were the only one that had ever been able to pull any kind of emotions out of their scary boss,

"Is the hospital floor secure?"

"You did not kick anyone out, right?!" You screech at your boyfriend who looks at you with a nervous smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"If I say no, it won't be a lie...technically

"Minho-" You hiss at him but he shakes his head at you, it wasn't as if he'd thrown them out of the hospital. He'd merely paid everyone to be moved quickly.

"I moved them to different floors," he shrugged at you before you scoffed and nudged his shoulder. You'd have been perfectly fine without him moving anybody.

"I don't need protection from a bunch of old people."

"I don't care," He mumbles, looking at you and then kissing your cheek softly as you playfully scolded him for being so damn overprotective.

"I can't lose you, Yn...I just can't." He finally whispered as you pulled him to sit on the bed with you, your head resting on his shoulder. His men quickly filtered out of the room leaving you alone again.

He’s quiet for a moment, just resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your arm as he tries to think of something to say to you. 

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and heavy with emotion. It had been hard for him when he'd heard the news of the attack, he'd gone into overprotective mode within seconds,

“I can’t lose you. I just… I can’t,” he whispers, the words almost a confession. 

“When I heard what happened, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I’ve always been in control, always knew how to handle things… but when it comes to you…” He trails off, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him. You can feel the tremor in his voice, the raw vulnerability he rarely shows. 

“I’ve lost people before, but you… losing you would destroy me. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” You lift your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. The depth of his fear is written all over his face, the tough exterior he usually wears stripped away in this moment. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear he didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You won’t lose me, Minho,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, you’ll never lose me.”

His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to believe it, trying to let your words sink in. Finally, he exhales a shaky breath and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs, his voice a little steadier now, but still tinged with the lingering fear of what could have been. 

“Because I can’t… I won’t let you go.” He promised you as you nodded at him, cuddling into him softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," You whispered to him, closing your eyes as you laid your head on his chest.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[mockerycrow]

super big congratulations on 4k!! you deserve it <3

i was wondering if you could write a gn! reader x price with the prompt "Hey, it's okay, I got you. You're alright, you're okay." it doesn't matter if it's platonic or romantic; whatever feels best for you!!

Thank you so much and congratulations!

YOU’RE ALIVE (Price x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; Car accident, implied situationship w/ Price, moderate injuries, flashbacks, near panic attack, open ending.]

YOU DON’T REMEMBER the events that lead up to you in a hospital bed, a cast fitted around your arm, a brace on your knee, a bandage around your skull, and only God knows how many stitches and bandages in random assortments. You can’t forget the numeral wires and tubes attached to you, too. Oh, and the ear-bleeding beeping. John sits next to you in a chair—he’s your… friend, of sorts. You aren’t really sure what to call what you two have going on.

You look at him, slumped in the visitors chair he’s pulled up beside your bed, his arms crossed and his legs spread; his neck is bent at an awkward angle and you know it’s going to ache whenever he awakens. John looks quite tired—he’s looked tired and stressed the entire time he’s been in the hospital room with you. Stressing over you, like a worried hu—…. you shouldn’t think about that. Suddenly the ceiling looks far more appealing to stare at, rather than the beautiful gentleman who is willingly staying at your bedside, despite your exhausted attempts to have him get some proper rest.

You glance over at him—envious of how he’s able to sleep right now. Hm. Honestly, you know John would be awake with you if he had the energy. The only reason why you’re awake is your stitches itch, and the only reason why he’s asleep is because you did not wake up for four days after you passed out at the scene of a car accident you were apparently in; an accident you don’t remember too well. You barely even remember what you had for breakfast that morning; cereal of some kind, maybe? Eggs? You don’t know.

“You were on the way to work, love.” You remember John telling you. You remember the tense expression, the firmness of his eyebrows. The frown of his lip, the way he amusingly resembled a quokka in the moment. You were also apparently on the phone with John at the same time, so whatever happened, he heard all of it. The details from your own memory are fuzzy—your doctors concluded your amnesia is temporary, so they gave you the choice of remembering it yourself or having them tell you. You opted in for the first option.

It was coming back to you in bits and pieces. Small moments where you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, you think you hear glass shattering in the distance; your heart begins to race at different moments. You aren’t sure what to make of it—until now.

“I’m not excited for this meeting.” You whined, your eyes were glued to the road. Your phone is bluetooth connected to your car’s system so you can talk with John and have both of your hands on the wheel. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, honey. Surely it’s just about budgets like last month.” John hums through the speakers of your car. You sigh, turning on your windshield wipers as it’s pouring out, obscuring your vision a bit.

“It’s raining pretty hard, how do the roads look?” He asks, a bit of rustling coming from John’s end. He’s probably reading a book or looking out from the curtains. “I’m driving slower than normal, visibility isn’t the greatest..” You admit, letting out a breath, slowing the car down once again. “..I was sliding a bit, thinking it’s time I get some new wheels.” John hums in agreement. “Definitely. Please be safe, love.” You chuckled glancing around the road, furrowing your eyebrows when the double yellow line seems to fade. “I’m trying my best, Jo—“

You’re suddenly being jostled around violently after a big impact from your front, your seatbelt digging into your skin as something launches your car off to the side. “SHIT—“ You scream, attempting to stop the car, but the rain causes you to slide across the road. Something hits you from the back and you feel you physically feel yourself lift in your seat—and then you’re fading in and out. You wake up with wetness against your face, pain in your ribs, your arm, your skull—

You let out a choked sob as there’s ringing in your ears and your eyes refuse to focus—but you can tell you’re upside down. You see a pair of legs sprinting towards you through your broken side window, and you aren’t really register what’s happening. You blink and the person is try to pry the door open frantically. You still don’t hear them; it’s almost like a silent movie.

The door gives, the flipped car jostling from the force used to pry it open. You blink and fuck—It’s John. His eyes are wide and his jaw is tense, shaky hands. He’s grabbing the sides of your head, forcing you to keep your head still—his lips are moving but you can’t hear him. You sob and you try to reach up to touch him, and he lets you. Your eyes look at your own hand as it’s caked in your own blood, causing you to inhale shakily. This isn’t happening. The pain starts sitting you harder, a pulsing in the side of your head.

“Hey—“ John’s voice suddenly cuts through and you blink, and you’re back in the hospital room. You’re breathing hard and fast, causing your chest to ache more than it already does. His hands are cupping your cheeks like he was in the flipped car, and you let out a panicked sob; your machines make loud beeping noises in retaliation. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you. You’re alright, you’re okay..” John quickly murmurs, his thumbs gently wiping your tears away. “Focus on my voice, okay? You’re alright. You’re in the hospital, love.”

You sniffle and nod, shakily inhaling once again as you try to calm your panicked lungs and struggling heart, your good hand coming up and gently grasping his wrist. “I-I was flipped over—“ You choke out, which John quickly meets with soft shushing and a kiss between your eyebrows. “I know, honey. I know. I got you, you’re safe now.” You nod, choking out another whimper as you lean into his touch—because John’s right. He has you; you’re safe, he’s the one who got to you first. You’re sure you’ll want to ask him how he found you so fast later, but all you want to do right now and feel him and hear him. Because you’re alive.

[pinksturniolo]

Biggest Fan: Part Three

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: The one in which a fan gets rear ended in a car accident by none other than Christopher Sturniolo during her stay in Los Angeles.

A/N: This is my first series I will be publishing on here! There will most likely be 3 or 4 parts. I hope you like it and I’m really excited to share with you all. :)

Content Warnings: smut, oral receiving/giving, fingering, raw penetration, swearing, throat fucking, bondage (if you are not comfortable with that please don’t read), mentions of a head injuries, mentions of a car accident

word count: 4,423

side note: sorry for the long wait!! it was a crazy day lol but here it is <3

inspired by this song:

You ended up needing three stitches.

Apparently, you had underestimated the cut on your forehead and if it wasn’t for Isabel, you would’ve just left it with the bandage Chris had put on for you. After you left the triplets house, she insisted that you go to an urgent care and get it checked out. You explained the details of the whole night to her, starting from when you left your hotel room to get Wendy’s up until the moment Matt knocked on Chris’ door.

“Holy shit. Our first night in L.A. and you manage to get in a car accident with Chris Sturniolo which ends up in him eating you out? What kind of black magic have you been doing?” Isabel jokes as you look out the car window, avoiding eye contact with her. You were on the way back to your hotel after leaving the urgent care. You groan, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.  “Let’s never talk about this again, please.” You reply.

At the same time, your phone rings, Chris’ name flashing across the screen. Your heart immediately jumps, and you look at Isabel in fear, showing her the name.

“Oh my god. Answer it!” She says, her eyes wide, glancing at you and to the road, trying to focus on driving.

“Fuck no! I cannot talk to him right now… How did he even get my number?” You wonder aloud. The call goes to voicemail and almost immediately after, you receive 2 text messages from him.

Hey. I got your number from Matt. Just wanted to make sure you’re good.

He called the tow place so they could get your tire fixed and take it to your hotel. Lmk when they drop it off.

You read the messages but don’t reply, putting your phone back down and leaning back in your seat. Exhaustion was beginning to set in. You hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours. “Why didn’t you answer?” Isabel asks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him… I just feel utterly mortified from what happened. It was an amazing night, don’t get me wrong. He’s cool as fuck. I guess I’m just being insecure, but I feel embarrassed about it. It’s not like me to do one-night stands. What if he just regrets it?” You tell her, really starting to question everything that happened last night.

 “Y/N. Stop. You seriously need to get out of your head and give yourself some credit. He’s obviously interested in you if he’s calling and texting you. You’re hot okay. Any guy would want you.” She says, making you smile.

“Besides, we came to L.A. for a reason, right? To let loose and have fun. This is best case scenario Y/N, might as well make the most of it.” She adds, turning into the hotel parking lot.

Isabel was one your best friends, one of the reasons being she always gave the best advice and knew what you needed to hear while not sugar coating anything. You had always appreciated her for that. She parks and you both unbuckle your seatbelts, grabbing your things and getting out of the car. “You know what, you’re right. I need to stop overthinking things so much.” You say as you walk into the hotel lobby, getting into the elevator. She smiles at you and gives you a hug. “Exactly.” She replies. You both head to your rooms and once you hit the bed, you knock out, unable to keep your eyes open for one more second.

When you finally wake up, it’s 6 p.m., the sun starting to set outside. You had slept the whole day. You yawn and stretch, getting out of your bed and heading to the shower so you could wake up.

You still have Chris’ clothes on and can smell the scent of his cologne lingering as you take them off. You remember that your wet clothes are still in a pile on his bathroom floor, silently cursing to yourself for forgetting them there. Now you had a reason to see him again.

You decide to go wash his clothes at the hotel laundry mat once you finish in the shower. You still haven’t called or texted him back, a feeling of guilt washing over you. You know that you should, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it yet. What were you so afraid of?

You were afraid of how good it felt being with him. The connection you felt scared you and you hadn’t even gone all the way with him. But you couldn’t get him out of your head. Last night played over and over in your head like a broken record.

The way he made you laugh. The lustful look in his eyes. The feeling of his hands gripping your waist. The way his lips felt on your neck. The feeling of his hair tickling the insides of your thighs as he licked and sucked and fingered you until you were whimpering his name. The way his voice sounded…

“Anything to get you in bed next to me, princess.”

“You look so pretty like this.”

“Cum for me sweetheart.”

His words played repeatedly in your head as you lay in your bed, a movie playing on the tv, but you couldn’t pay attention. All you could think about was him. You burned a hole into your phone as you stared at it.

Stop being a pussy. Just call him. You think, picking up your phone and dialing his number.

Your heart races as it rings, and you almost change your mind and hang up at the last minute when he finally picks up. “Y/N?” He says. “Hey.” You respond, the cheesiest grin appearing on your face the minute you hear him say your name.

“I was starting to think you ghosted me.”

“Well, I actually was until I remembered you still have my clothes and I have yours.”

“Funny joke. I washed your clothes earlier, you can come get them anytime. Unless you want me to bring them to you?”

“Uh… I’ll let you know. Me and my friends planned a hiking trip for tomorrow.”

“…. Okay. No worries. Hey, did you get your car back?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you so much for that, and please tell Nick and Matt thank you for me as well.”

“Of course. How’s the cut?”

“I actually ended up going to urgent care and getting three stitches. But they were pretty small, it was no big deal.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, Y/N. I knew we should’ve called the ambulance.”

“Chris, it’s okay, I promise. How’s the Kia? I was too in shock to even ask last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The bumper is a little messed up and one of the lights broke but I think your car ended up taking most of the damage… Sorry again.”

“Well at least it’s not worse. You do owe me a frosty though.”

“Hm, I would argue a McFlurry makes up for it way better.”

You and Chris end up talking and laughing almost the whole night about anything and everything. Everything except the things that occurred in his bed. You’re too hesitant to bring it up and he seems to take the hint, not mentioning it either.

The next day, you and your friends take a trip up to Big Bear, hiking for most of the day. You enjoy the views and spending time with them. You still can’t help but realize that you’re not a hundred percent in the moment, counting the minutes until you could get back to the city and talk to Chris again.

Chris’ mind hadn’t stopped racing since the morning you left his house. His heart ached as he watched your friend drive off with you in the passenger seat, feeling like a love drunk fool.

He immediately asked Matt for your number from when you had exchanged information after the accident, a knowing look in his eye when he gave it to him. “Gonna ask her on a date or what?” Matt teased him, which he ignored completely.

“Don’t pretend like I didn’t hear some interesting noises coming from your room last night!” He shouts as Chris runs downstairs to be alone in his room.

His heart sank when you didn’t answer his call and he chalked it up to the fact that you were probably just tired and needed sleep. Which he desperately needed as well but he couldn’t help and wait for you to text or call him back as he made himself busy, cleaning up his room and washing your clothes when he found them still lying on his bathroom floor.

After a couple hours passed though, he lost hope of getting your phone call and finally laid down, deciding he should get some rest. He tossed and turned for a while though, unable to get the memory of last night out of his head.

The look in your eyes when you told him to touch you. The way your lips felt on his, your hands in his hair. The sweet sounds you made as he tasted you. The way you clenched around his fingers as he made you orgasm, the way his name sounded as you screamed it.

Fuck. He was down bad and he knew it.

There was an infectious energy between you two and he craved more of it. He finally fell asleep thinking of you and when he woke up, the sun was setting.

Matt and Nick forced him to come out of his room and eat something. He talked with them for a while, avoiding mentioning you. He took a shower and was about to turn on a TV show to try and get his mind off you when you called. He couldn’t help the goofy smile that plastered his face as he answered, grateful to hear your voice again.

Hours later that night, when you and him had finally hung up, he already knew. It had only been a day, but he just knew he wanted more time with you, to take care of you in all the ways you deserved. When you told him you would be on a hiking trip the next day and wouldn’t have service to text him, he couldn’t ignore the way it made his heart sink.

He was falling for you, head over heels.

As soon as you got back to your hotel, you were exhausted and your feet ached. You took a shower and lay down, sending Chris a quick text message.

Hey :) Just got home, I think my feet might fall off lol. It was great though, I’ll send you pictures in the morning. Sorry I can’t talk tonight but call me when you wake up!

The next few days passed incredibly fast. Chris had to go to Boston unfortunately, but he told you he would be back the day before you left to go back home.

You and your friends spent time at the beach, walked the Hollywood Walk of Fame, danced at the club, and did all the things you had came to do. It truly was the best vacation you had been on.

You and Chris texted nonstop and stayed up talking on the phone when you could. He was one of the sweetest people you had met, and the more you got to know him, the more you wanted nothing but to spend every second with him. How could your feelings grow so strong in such a short time?

The night Chris came back home, you were in your hotel room, most of your belongings packed and ready to go. You were in your nicest set of silk pajamas, brushing your hair for the hundredth time as you waited for him to arrive.

You both agreed that he would come over with the clothes you left at his house, and you could give him his. But you both knew it was more than that. There was unfinished business, and as eager as you were to finish it, you were still a bit nervous.

Chris arrived a few minutes earlier then he said he would, a soft knock sounding at your door that summoned those damn butterflies again.

You took a deep breath, opening the door to reveal him there, cheeky smile as always, both of his arms resting on the door frame above him. He was wearing jeans and one of his fresh love t-shirts. Does this man ever not look good?

“Fancy seeing you here.” He says as you step aside, allowing him to walk in. You laugh, going over to grab his clothes for him.

He sets a bag with yours in it on the table in your room. As you go to hand the clothes to him, he doesn’t take them right away.

You hold it out awkwardly, an expectant look on your face as he raises his eyebrows at you. “Are you not gonna take them?” You ask, lowering your arms down.

“Is that it then?” He responds, giving you a look that has your heart starting to beat faster. “What do you mean?” You say, dragging it out longer. You couldn’t just jump his bones the minute he walked in, could you?

“Don’t play stupid with me, Y/N.” He speaks lowly, making your heart feel like it’s doing flips inside your chest. He pushes the clothes in your arms down to the floor and moves closer to you, now inches from your face.

“Do you know how crazy you drive me? I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left.” He says quietly. You feel his breath across your lips as he moves even closer, smirking at the obvious effect he has on you, as a deep blush fans across your face. He places his hands on either side of your face, his thumbs stroking softly. “You have no idea of all the things I wanna do to you…” he breaths, his lips brushing yours. “Then show me.” You whisper.

He wastes no time placing his lips on yours as you kiss him back, your mouth opening to allow his tongue to tangle with yours as your arms go up to wrap around his neck. He moves his hands down to your hips as they slip under your thin shirt, the feeling of his hands on your bare skin giving you tingles down your spine. He slips his hands to your ass, squeezing tightly, making you moan in his mouth. “Jump.” He instructs and as you do, he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He walks towards your bed, your lips still joined in a sloppy kiss, setting you down on it and hovering on top of you.  You can’t control the moans that slip from your mouth as he leaves spongy, wet kisses down your neck and chest, removing your shirt and his in the process, and you allow your body to respond to his commands, and to his satisfaction he discovers you don’t have a bra on so he can leave more love bites on your breasts.

He takes his time sucking on them and rolling his tongue slowly over each of your nipples. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling how hard he is, and you can’t help but buck your hips up into his, causing him to moan out, his mouth travelling back up to your neck which seems to be his favorite spot to kiss you.

He notices the hickeys he left on you the first night you spent together and smirks at you as he pulls his head up, whispering in your ear. “Do you like seeing my marks on you? Does it make you wet knowing that you’re all mine baby?” Fuck. This man will be the death of you.

“Yes, Chris.” You breath out, again bucking your hips up onto his rock hard dick currently straining through his jeans. He hums in satisfaction, grabbing your wrists in one hand and holding them above your head. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.” He warns, his fucked-out expression as he looks at you, making your already wet center soaking.

Of course, this makes you grind on him again, the feeling of it too good to stop. He grips your wrists tighter in his hand, undoing his belt and taking it off his jeans. He then wraps it around your wrists, belting them together tight enough to where you can’t move them but not too tight to where it’s uncomfortable for you.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pausing to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation. “Yes.” You respond, your heart racing and pussy throbbing so much it almost hurts. “Promise? Just tell me to stop if you need me to.” He says, sliding your silk shorts down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

“Yes, I promise.” You say back, anticipating his next move. He bites his lips, his eyes taking in your naked body, your lace panties the only thing left. “So beautiful, princess. Just for me.” he whispers as if he’s saying it to himself, but you hear him and you think you just might pass out from how sweet it sounds.

He pulls you slightly down the bed, your hips on the edge as he leans down, knees hitting the floor, his head now level between your legs.

His blue eyes burn into yours as he wraps your thighs around his face and wastes no time pulling your panties aside to let his tongue slick through your wet folds, up and down, side to side on your clit and then back down to tease your entrance. You cry out loudly, throwing your head back and squeeze your thighs around his head relentlessly which only makes him hold you in place even tighter, ensuring you’ll have more bruises in the morning.

The position he has you in and the constriction of his belt around your wrists is enough to send you over the edge. The feeling is indescribable, and your whole body is ablaze with euphoria.

It doesn’t take long until you feel yourself close to an orgasm as he moans dirty words against you. “Fuck baby, I missed you. I touched myself so many times remembering how good you taste.” His voice sends deep vibrations through you. “Are you gonna cum for me princess? I want you to cum all over my tongue.”

He then grabs your hips, guiding them to thrust against his face as you ride his tongue. “Oh my God, yes Chris!” You scream, letting him use your body to get off on him.  You cum hard, your body shaking as you continue to moan his name. He helps you ride it out, his hands gently rubbing your legs and thighs and he gets up to take the belt off, rubbing your wrists as well.

He kisses you softly as you catch your breath. You feel fueled by lust, the need to make him moan your name strong when you look him in the eyes, an idea popping into your head. “I want you fuck my throat.” You say, the surprise in his face makes you laugh but you’re serious as you sit up to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his legs.

“Yeah?” He responds, a playful fire in his eyes. “Mhm.” You hum, biting your lip and the innocent look in your eyes almost makes him lose it then and there. He stands up at the edge of the bed and you turn your body the opposite way, laying down flat so now your head hangs off the edge.  

“Tap my thigh if you need me to stop, okay?” He says, his breathing heavy as he pulls his dick out of his boxers and from the view you currently have, it looks huge, veins running along his shaft and precum oozing out of the tip. He brings it to your mouth, and you open to wrap your lips around it, your tongue swirling around him teasingly. “Fuck…” He whimpers lowly, trying to contain himself as he slides it further slowly, your saliva coating him.

 Your cheeks hollow around him and he pauses halfway, letting you adjust to him. He waits a few seconds before going deeper, brushing the back of your throat, making you slightly gag. He moans loudly at the feeling, which makes you hum around him. You are enjoying every minute of this.

He starts to slowly thrust himself down your throat, careful to pause every now and then when he feels you gag. But you quickly get used to it and reach up to grab his hand, motioning for him to continue. He picks up the pace, loud moans now leaving his mouth which only makes you wetter. “Fuuuuckk… Y/N. Feels so good.” He breathes out. He wants to cum down your throat so badly but at this point he needs to feel himself inside you more than he’s ever needed anything.

He pulls out and helps you back into an upright position on the bed, laying you down against the pillows. “Please tell me you’re on the pill.” He says, pulling your panties off and discarding them somewhere along with the pile of clothes forming on the floor. “Yes.” You respond, grateful you were because you wanted nothing more than to feel his bare skin against yours.

He takes your legs, spreading you open for him again and rubs his cock against your entrance teasingly. “Please, Chris. I need you.” You whimper, gripping his arms and wrapping your legs around his lower back. “No need to beg, sweetheart. You got me.” He responds as he pushes himself inside you.

You both moan in ecstasy at the feeling, your eyes rolling back as he continues to sink himself all the way into you. “God, Chris…” You say, a slight burning as you adjust to his size.

He groans loudy, thrusting into you slowly, the sight of your blissful expression and the way your tits bounce with each movement almost sending him over the edge. You meet his hips with yours each time, uncontrollable moans pouring out of you. “I love making you sound like this baby. Tell me only I can make you feel this good, Y/N.” He says, his breath shaky but his grip on your legs strong.

“Yes, Chris. Only you can do this to me. Feels so- ah- so gooood.” You respond, at this point ready to do anything he says. The feeling of him inside you is like no other. He moves harder and faster, hitting your g spot with each thrust.

You clench around him and he feels your wetness drip down his cock. The pleasure you give him is unmatched but the way he feels being close to you like this, your bodies becoming one has him in a state of bliss. He knows you’re close and wraps you tighter around him, his face falling to yours, one hand pressing into the mattress, the other hand pressing down slightly on your abdomen.

You cry out at the sensation, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging his hair.

“Can you cum again for me baby? Please… I wanna fill you up while you scream my name.” He says, his hips slamming into you, pounding you over and over again. “Please baby. Please cum for me.” The needy sound in his voice and the pace of his thrusting brings you to your second orgasm, clenching around his cock and releasing all over him.

Your whimpers are swallowed by him as he kisses you, his orgasm shortly coming after yours, spilling himself inside you. You both gasp for air, completely spent, and he stays there for a few minutes, holding you as you both catch your breath.

Once you both have settled down, he grabs a damp towel and cleans you up. You lay together, Chris rubbing circles on your back as you hold him. “Goodnight, princess.” He whispers and you both drift off to a peaceful sleep.

The next morning you and Chris spend exploring each other’s bodies in every possible way in the time you have left before you have to check out of the hotel.

Under the sheets, he covers every inch of your body in kisses. In the shower, he fucks you up against the glass, pulling your wet hair from behind you. On the couch, you ride him until your legs shake, while he whimpers in your ear.

When it came time for you to leave, you tried not to cry but it was bittersweet. You and Chris had shared something special, and you both agreed there was more between you two then just amazing sex.

He made you promise to call and text him anytime you could, and the good thing was, your hometown was on the East Coast which would make it easier for you guys to meet up when he visited Boston.

And you kept your promises while he kept his, each time you got to see each other was better than the last. You couldn’t get enough of each other, and he made you feel so comfortable in your own skin. You silently thanked the universe for putting the events of that night of the accident into motion because if you hadn’t met Chris, life wouldn’t be the same.

chris & y/n:

a/n: and there it is!!! my first series completed :) pleaseeee let me know what yall thought! matt series next???

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 3]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will people react to seeing you again?

2.6k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Your POV

"They took Daryl as their prisoner."

That sentence replay in your mind as you lay in bed that night. You had no idea what they were doing to him. Not even if he was breathing in the same moment you were. He doesn't even know you still are. You had to bite down on your tongue to prevent you from getting emotional. You were struggling to exist. Adding this mental pain onto the physical, you would never recover if something happened to him. You wouldn't have the strength to try and become better.

You would die of a broken heart.

The pain medication giving to you is what put you to sleep. Waking up foggy, still with a weird compression feeling in your neck. People had started their days already. You stared as people were getting ready for the morning. You proceeded to stretch trying to regain control of your body again. You heard Sasha and Rosita talking outside, "Then let me come with you, its stupid to go alone.'' You were confused, but what else is new. But, it sounded like they were going to do something they weren't supposed to.

Sasha had promised to help wash your hair in the sink yesterday. So when she came to keep that promise you questioned her. She was preparing the area you were going to use to wash your hair (Hopefully removing whatever blood that the last time didn't.) "Where are you going?" Sasha had turned to you towel in hand, "What are you talking about? I'm not going any where, we are washing your hair." She seemed to think you were confused but your expression remained blank, "With Rosita..." Sasha pursed her lips, "You heard us talking earlier." She stated it in realization. She sighed before helping you to lay your head in the sink.

Warm water was flowing down your scalp, a relief to you. Sasha began while running her fingers in your hair, carful of the stitches. "You can't tell anybody... I just can't- can't live with it. He need to pay for what he did." You sat there and listened, she wanted revenge, closer. You released a long breath, "I don't like it. Think- of the conseq-quences. Act on here-" You pointed to your brain, "not here..." your hand rested above your heart. "I know this one is much louder." You looked up at her with sad eyes. She simply looked away for a second. You continued, "No one else, we are losing no one else." Then is when she looked down at you, "Lets get your hair dry and get a new bandage on." You only sighed but complied.

She was probably hoping you world forget what you had heard. Just because you didn’t talk most of the time didn’t mean you weren’t getting better. You felt like you were at the point of having clear cognitive abilities. Your struggle was in having your brain controlling your body. You would tell your foot to move and it would, it just wouldn’t get to where you thought it told you it was. Maggie walked in frustrated about something but you had to tell her to talk to Sasha and Rosita.

“Maggs?”

You had startled her out of her thoughts, “You need something Y/N?” She approached you while looking you over for something wrong. You could only hold your head down ashamed, Sasha said not to say anything but you couldn’t let it go. “Could you check on-n Sasha? She and Rosita, planning something…” Maggie stood there confused before realizing what they could be planning. So without a word she ran out the door to look for them.

She returned later explaining Enid told her they had already left. Jesus was going after them though. Now you could only hope they were going to be ok.

You had asked Enid to help you outside to a bench. You wanted to be near if they came back. Also maybe because the trailer was driving you mad. You could tell it was getting late with the temperature slowly dropping. The book you were reading had lost your interest. You stared out watching everyone go about there days. You hadn’t thought much about Negan. The thirst for his blood that many seemed to have. You’re sure if you sat and lingered on it you would. For now it was still a thought of terror. You would dream about the feeling of the bat. Only on nights the meds started to fade and your headache only fueled the sensation.

Then Daryl would swirl around in your head. He was shot the last you saw him. Even worse he could only think you were dead like everyone else thought. Knowing him he was having guilt eating him alive. About you and Glenn. You’ve seen how he gets with grief. You could only hope he didn’t do something stupid.

The sunset reminded you they weren’t coming back today. You attempted to get up before older lady was at your side helping you. It was frustrating being so dependent. The was no use pushing the help away because you did need it. You sulked while laying down in bed. You didn’t talk for the rest of that night going to bed early.

You woke up before anyone. You slowly moved to get out of bed. Taken small slow steps leaning on anything near you. You had managed to get out slowly closing the door. You didn’t trust going down the steps so you sat down going down that way. Making your way back to that bench all by yourself took a good half hour. The cold air was slightly warming with the sun peaking over the hills. The cold was welcome, you preferred it better then the constant burning in your aching body.

Enid was the one to wake up seeing you gone and alerting Maggie. She had found you at the bench. She feared you had fallen somewhere. She sat opposite of you, “You should had woken one of us.” Looking at her seeing the expression of someone tired and lost. “I got here, eventually.” She only looked at you displeasingly. You smiled at her before choking out,

“I’m sorry-y my current existence was at the expense of Glenn’s.”

She looked shocked, “That’s not how it-“ you were waving your hand slowly waving her off, “It’s true, I’m just telling you I won’t let it go to waste. He was one of the good things left in the world and I’ll do right by him.” It was the first semi clear thing you’ve said your entire recovery. Despite it being slower and more forced out, it was firm and decisive. Maggie stared at you with tears in her eyes, placing her hand on yours and squeezing it. She nodded, “Thank you.” The rumbling in the distance broke the moment. Maggie stood and listening closely, “It could be the Saviors again.” She ran to get up onto the watch platform.

As the sound got closer it achingly sounded like Daryl’s bike. Maggie was yelling to open the gates. You stood and slowly made your way around a corner again leaning on anything to help you. The gates were wide open as a bike and two figures on them got off. It was Daryl… he was here. He is right there! Your slow steps soon turned faster and more wobbly. You started to cry. He was getting hugged by Maggie oblivious to your presence. You ran out of things to keep your balance but continued on sloppily. Your cry’s turn louder as you yell,

“DARYL!”

Your sobbing now- struggling to catch a breath even. You couldn’t get there fast enough. Daryl quickly turned at the voice. Your brain moving too fast for your body, caused you to fall to your hand and knees. But you still try and crawl.

Daryl POV

Earlier

Daryl was making his attempt to escape again. With the key that was slipped under the door, he was headed to his bike after finding some cloths and Ricks gun in Dwight’s room. The place was empty, until a larger man rounded the corner with food in his hand. Fat Joey he had heard them call him. He startled when they made eye contact. He lifted his hands in a surrender, “L-look man I didn’t see anything, you could just go I won’t say anything.” But Daryl angrily approached the him. “No! No wait!” Daryl had beaten him into the floor. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Another person, he stopped looking over to the presence.

He straightens in surprise, “Jesus?”

Jesus was as surprised to see him to. Daryl looked rough, and if the way he just watched him beat that man to death, wasn’t doing the best emotionally. He seemed on edge, and most notably animalistic. Daryl waved him over to the bike, “We gotta go.” Daryl was fiddling to start the bike as Jesus approached him. He seemed sporadic, maybe that’s why he didn’t mention anything about you. The man was already at level ten no need to push him further.

The ride to Hilltop took them until morning light to break. The gate opened and Daryl seeing Maggie made him feel like a hole had appeared under him and the only voice that could have possibly pulled him out of it rung out through the air.

“DARYL!”

Now

He had turned to see if he imagined it. He saw you struggling to make your way over. He first thought that like how Rick hallucinated Lori, he was doing with you. But regardless he ran the rest of the way you couldn’t as you fell. He was breathing hard and tears were streaming down his bruised face. He reached down to pull you to your feet. He caught a glimpse of your face seeing a bandage rapped around your head. He was in disbelief as he held you. You had crumpled into him. Your casted arm going around him as your other found his hair pushing him closer to you. Daryl’s voice held a tremble, “How is this possible.”

You choked down a gasp of air before talking, “You punched him…” You pulled back to look at his face. Hand removing from his hair to caress his cheek.

“I didn’t intend to play dead but did. I passed out- and- and then heard- took y-you.” Your speech was turning more slurred harder you tried to talk. It was obvious you were struggling to keep up with yourself. Daryl could only stare. Overwhelmed by the feelings flooding through him. After feeling like he had his entire being ripped from his body, only for it to appear back to him. ‘His punch?’ He couldn’t care to think of why you were in front of him just that you were. He wasn’t a religious man by any means but he was thankful to whatever had made you fallen back into his arms.

You were crying at a small whimper now when Maggie approached putting a hand to your back. “Shhh, you have to calm down Y/N, let’s get you laid down.” Daryl was dazed, still struggling to comprehend if this was real. Maybe a dream? Was he still in his cell? He had a good look at you now. Your face all kinds of colors. Your skin pale with bags under your red eyes. You moved almost like a toddler. Just like how Judith would try to sass him and walk leading her tripping at the inability to multitask. You were in obvious pain. You had yet to pull away from him. He looked to Maggie with a panicked and questioning look, “Is she okay, how hurt is she?” He moved to sweep you by the legs to pick you up bridal style. He didn’t even care for the pain in his shoulder from the gun shot.

Maggie started to lead them to the trailer, “She has been getting better. She was much worse at the start. I’ll explain everything.” In the trailer he set you down on a bed. You had one hand still on his arm. He sat down on the side taking your hand into his turning to Maggie for an explanation. Catching the hint she continued,

“We didn’t even notice she was still alive until Sasha and I were on are way to Hilltop.”

Daryl interrupted- “Why were you going here? Rick said you had died from whatever sickness you had, but saw Gabe did a fake grave for you.” She inhaled before placing a hand to her stomach, “I thought I was losing the baby…” Color drained from his face, Maggie spoke reassuringly, “They baby is fine! The doctor who looked at me also helped her.” They both turn to you. You were fiddling with his hand in yours, seemingly mesmerizing by it. She sighed, “He said she was recovering better than he thought she would. She wasn’t herself the first few days but, she seemed to have taken most of the force to her hand.” Daryl's eyebrows furrowed and he eyed the cast on your hand.

You turn your attention to Daryl, “I’m ok… I swear.” He saw what had happened to you. The sound of that damn bat and the blood pouring out from your motionless body. Maggie movement caught his attention, “I let you two be, you’ll find me around.” She walked out the door before he could reply. You sighed at her abrupt exit and the face he was making. The face of a man consumed of guilt, “Later, you-u should talk through it with her. Your face is saying it all.”

Oh to be called on his B.S. again. To have you reading him like you had the manual to him. He probably still had the thought written on his face, ‘Your really here.' The pressure you pressed in your combined hands made him return it.

“Daryl, what did they do to you.”

A simple question really but his mind spun at the remembrance. He was covered in grime, and he is sure you noticed him being a little twitchy. The cuts and bruises to add told you a story. “Nothing worse than thinking you were dead.” He said it truthfully. You gave that god awful look that would make is heart pound. “Ar-are you ok?” Your eyes were becoming glassy. He only smiled and began to nod, “I will be now.” You slowly smiled back to him.

He went to clean up at your request, had taken a shower and cleaned some of the cuts on his face, along with his still healing bullet wound. He returned back to you and ate. He was quiet to observe you. Taken his own notes on your condition.

You were face down on top of his chest after he ate. Both soaking in each other. Daryl broke the silence, “Be my wife…” You didn’t even hesitate, raising your head to look at him and replying, “Where’s my ring at then…?” He huffed out some air having a dumb smile on his face, “In are room…” That had gotten your attention, “How long has it been there?” Marriage for Daryl wasn’t a concept he thought would be a part of his life with how he was raised. “Found it back on a run for the prison. Never found a moment with how everything went down.” Your hand reached to whip a tear from your eye before flopping back down on him,

“I’ll be your wife.”

A ruckus outside caused Daryl to investigate, removing himself from you felt like a sin. "I'll go check it out, stay here." He only looked back for a moment before heading out the door. He slowly stalked to see the gate open. Jesus appeared by him, "I was just about to get you." Daryl looked at him questioningly. He continued his approach to the gate. Daryl rounded the corner to see Rick, Carl, Michonne, Tara, and Rosita. Rick pulling away from Maggie, and all eyes falling to him.

The group he considered his family was here.

Part 4

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Also sorry again for grammar or spelling that is messed up! Dyslexia kicks my ass on the daily.

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Careful- Emily Prentiss X GN Reader!

Synopsis: You get injured in the field, and Emily just wants you safe.

Warnings: Descriptions of wounds but not really, Emily just takes care of you. Mostly fluff, basically a Drabble. No gender specified.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/n: I wrote this just so you guys have something while I finish this forsaken Lesso OneShot, I'm sorry it's taken me forever to get anything out. I'm currently working two jobs and saving up for my own place so I'm a bit busy Imao.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Emily's gun had fired a loud shot, but it wasn't loud enough to cover the sound of your seared gasp.

Her one bullet had taken out the unsub, but not before he got a bullet of his own out. Only, his bullet traveled straight into your shoulder.

Her gun was still trained on his body, now being checked for a pulse by Hotch, but her eyes were trained on you.

You were clutching your shoulder, blood now oozing through your fingers, partly hunched over trying to calm your breathing.

You were used to the pain of bullets, it was nothing new to you, but that didn't make the pain any better.

"Y/n?!" Emily shouted, gaining the attention of the team.

"I'm okay! I'm okay! Let's just secure the scene and find the hostage." You stood straight once more, trying to go further into the house.

"Y/n, you've been hit! You need medical!" Morgan came up to your side.

"It's not the worst thing I've dealt with, let's go!" Everyone on the team has been shot at least a handful of times, and everyone has been abducted at least once, you can manage a shoulder hit.

"Y/l/n, wait outside for medics. That's an order." Hotch finally added.

An annoyed groan came from you but you still did as told from your superior.

You didn't wait but maybe ten minutes before two ambulances showed up, presumably one for you and one for the hostage.

Emily desperately wanted to be at your side while the ambulance took you to the hospital, but Hotch ordered her to go with the hostage to wait with her while her family arrived.

To her dismay, Emily didn't get to leave the hospital until you had already gotten a ride back to your shared townhouse.

She sped down the highway, going as fast as the car would let her. She was a federal agent, what would the state officer do even if they could pull her over?

You'd think you were barely clinging to life with the way she sped and swerved the lanes.

Truthfully, she was just concerned. She couldn't see you at the scene before you were hauled away, and then the family had to fly in from another state to see the victim. It was safe to say she was desperate to see you.

You were unsurprised to hear a car speed into the driveway. Your townhome wasn't the biggest, so you heard the tires screeching while you were in the bathroom, trying to pull off the bandage from the back of your shoulder.

Not even 10 seconds went by from the time she pulled up in the drive to the moment she was walking through the front door.

"Y/n?!" You sighed, knowing how this conversation would go. It goes the same every time one of you gets hurt.

"In here." You shouted from sitting on the vanity.

Again, not a moment passed before she was by your side.

Emily walked through the bathroom door to see you sitting on the bathroom counter, first aid supplies and wrappers all skewed around you, topless and trying to reach around to your back. To your credit, you had gotten the bandage mostly off, just some of the medical adhesive was out of your reach.

Emily could see the stitches on your shoulder, briefly looking into the mirror and seeing your exhaustion she also caught a glimpse of another bandage.

"A through and through?" Was all Emily asked, she's seen you in this situation far more times than she'd like to admit.

You merely nodded, giving into trying to take off the bloody bandage. Normally you would've left it alone, but you guessed a stitch ripped and it caused you to bleed through the bandage.

Emily wordlessly took over, you knew she would, and carefully pulled the rest of the bandage off. She paused a bit as she heard you let out a seared gasp.

"Sorry, you're good." You caught each others eyes in the mirror.

"That was stupid, Y/n," She spoke softly.

"Emily..." You groaned, you've been here before and you just wanted a clean wound so you can go to bed.

"Y/n, you knew the profile. And you still tried to reason with the guy!" Emily was annoyed but she wasn't truly surprised, you've always tried to be the voice of reason with anyone, and you've always been the one to try to keep the bullets from flying. The irony, right?

"I know, Emily! I was stupid and reckless, I've heard it before. And I'll hear it again tomorrow from Hotch when I have to write a report, just leave it. Please." This conversation was one you could recite from memory, hearing it a few times a year.

She sighed, "I know, look I'm sorry. I care about you, okay? I just want you to be more careful."

"I know you do Em, that's how I am with you too. And we both know that we both agree to be more careful until the next case comes along." Emily said nothing as she taped the clean piece of gauze onto your shoulder.

She tapped on your uninjured shoulder and you took your silent cue to turn around for her to replace the other gauze.

"You got lucky." Her tone was laced with concern and you could tell she tried to hide the little bit of impression in her face.

She was right, you managed to talk the doctors out of giving you a sling as long as you promised to take it easy. And as you said, you promise until the next case comes. Hopefully there'll be a week before the next case...

She started to say something else but you weren't paying attention to her words. You were paying attention to the way her brows furrowed with concentration as she avoided the wound while cleaning. You were focused on how she was delicate yet precise with her movements, probably from all the experience she's got.

Emily wanted to be upset with the fact that you weren't listening to her advice, but she really couldn't. It wasn't the fact that she's a broken record, telling you things you've heard hundreds of times, but the fact that you were so almost entranced by her.

Emily couldn't help but notice the look in your eye, it's the same one she has when she looks at you. How even though you were in pain, you were still mindful of her.

But that's the thing, pain or not, Emily was still the same sensitive person you fell in love with. She was your painkiller. Always there to make you feel better, regardless of the ailment.

"Thank you, Em." You said quietly as she finished up on the front piece of gauze, collecting and tossing the trash from her work and your attempt of bandaging.

"Always. I'll always be here for you." She said in the same softness you spoke in.

"You promise?" You looked her directly in those beautiful eyes.

She hesitated a bit, knowing of her past she can't guarantee anything, especially a long life with you, "I promise."

You simply smiled and rested your head on her chest. This move of yours filling her heart with the love she's always wanted, the love she never thought she deserved.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @just-your-casual-nerd @v3nusxsky @bigolgay @hxzxrdous @pebbleswritessometimes @sgelessoanddoveykissing @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs, lmk if you wanna join my taglist!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

broken trust. [epilogue] l Joel Miller

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: +18, angst, smut, swearing, crying, unprotected sex (don't do that), unplanned pregnancy

A/N: this is the last chapter of this story. i wanted to thank you all for this journey. i didn't think i'd be able to finish it… but it was nice to write for these couple of wonderful people who always left some mark. you're amazing! i apologize for all the mistakes and shortcomings. I hope you will spend a few nice minutes reading my scribbles. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa 🖤 

[PART 5]

"Now you slowly release the clutch and press the accelerator. Slowly... Slowly..." the whole car shook several times "Ellie, calm down... It's nothing. You just have to..."

The car shook again and the engine stalled. A wailing groan escaped the girl's throat as she let go of the steering wheel.

"I'll never learn this." she sighed.

"Don't say that. You're doing really well."

"Really well?!" she repeated after you, and you wanted to laugh seeing her face "This fucking car has probably turned off a thousand times!"

"So what. Maybe if it turns off a few more times, you'll finally learn?" you lightly nudged her in the shoulder "Ellie, it's not the end of the world. Let's try again."

You had been sitting in this car for almost two hours. Ellie was getting angry the whole time, but she didn't give up. Finally, after a few more failures, the car slowly moved forward.

"Yes! Fuck, I did it! I did it!" she shouted in delight "See that? See that?"

"I see! You're doing great." you laughed "Now try to slow down and stop. Slowly... Ellie, don't kill Joel. Please!"

The car stopped suddenly and the girl turned off the engine. Happiness was written all over her face.

"Can we do this again tomorrow?" she asked excitedly.

"No problem." you replied and turned around as the door on your side opened "Oh! Hi, Joel. Are you back already?"

"Yeah, just a second ago." he glanced at you carefully and then his gaze moved to Ellie "You were supposed to watch her." he said seriously, although you could see the smile hiding in his eyes "Admit it, it was Y/N who talked you into taking her out of town."

"At this speed we'd make it to the gate in a week." the girl replied "And I keep an eye on her all the time! She's right next to me."

"I only left you for two days..." Joel sighed, but now he smiled "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Really!" you laughed seeing his look "I can't stay home all the time."

"But  you should. Come on, we need to change your bandage."

He offered you his hand to help you out of the car and slowly led you home.

Doc didn't want you to leave the clinic too soon, but you insisted. It wasn't until Joel suggested that you could live with him and Ellie for a while that they could keep an eye on you. You knew that Ellie felt guilty about what had happened, and Joel would feel calmer if you were close. So you agreed.

You moved into a small bedroom upstairs and within two weeks you really got into the place. Joel and Ellie didn't let you do anything for the first few days, and at least one of them was always home with you.

With some difficulty you convinced Joel that he didn't have to carry you up the stairs, you'd just walk really slowly. Then Ellie said that his old spine wouldn't last that long anyway, and you tried not to burst out laughing.

What was between you and Joel had calmed down too. You both felt like you were living in your own little bubble and you were fine with that. You saw him smile more often, and it melted your heart every time.

How could you know that his heart grew when he could go back home, where he knew you were. That was enough for him.

"You should take better care of yourself." he stated as you laid down on the bed and pulled up your shirt. "You still have stitches."

"I feel really good, Joel. You have no reason to worry." you replied, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands, and then returned to you with a small box prepared by Doc. "How was your patrol?"

"Quite normal. A bit boring." He replied, pulling up a stool and sitting next to the bed. "Did Ellie finally manage to start the engine?"

"Yeah, but she shook my soul out of me." You laughed. "She really wants to impress you, you know."

"She doesn't have to do that. But I'm glad you two get along so well."

His warm fingers slowly removed the dressing from your body and you both glanced at the healing spot. The skin was still slightly red, but the wound was fresh, so it didn't worry you.

"You were bleeding a little." Joel noticed, showing you a few spots of blood on the dressing.

"The stitches are pulling. I can't wait for Doc to take them out."

"Maybe you should have them a little longer?" he suggested, washing your wound and gently drying it with a clean towel.

"I suppose you think I should stay in bed until Ellie is of age." you stated and he smiled as he put a fresh bandage on you "I don't know what else I should do to make you believe that I'm out of danger.”

"Just be reasonable."

"Reasonable is my middle name."

Maybe you shouldn't have, but you really enjoyed your moments together. When he first touched you to change your dressing, it was almost intimate. It wasn't until a while later that you were both able to act more freely, and Joel made sure he wasn't hurting you.

For him, it was a nice feeling to have you under his roof. He missed what you used to have, but if what was now was all he could get - he had no intention of giving it up. Even though you were sleeping in the other room, you were alive, you were close to him, he could hear you.

You ate meals together, spent evenings together. You didn't flinch at his accidental touch, and it even happened a few times that when you entered the kitchen you stroked his back, Joel closed his eyes then because of this tender gesture.

He missed you even though you were right next to him. He missed being close to you, missed the warmth of your body. But he only had these few moments that were going to be taken away from him anyway.

It was getting quite cold and the sun was setting really early when you returned home smiling, although a little bit frozen. Ellie was curled up on the couch reading a comic book while Joel was adding wood to the fire when you stood in front of them and lifted your shirt to show your freshly healed scar.

"Doc took the stitches out!" you announced excitedly. "I should still be careful, but he says everything is okay now."

"Cool!" Ellie's face lit up. "How many scars do you have?"

"She should have as few as possible." Joel mumbled, glancing at the healed area from the surgery.

"I have two other pieces of news." you announced, sitting down in the armchair and smiling at them like you just won the lottery. "Since everything is okay, I'll go back to my place tomorrow. You can rest from me."

"No!" Ellie groaned. "And the second one?"

"I met Tommy. He said that since Doc doesn't see any contraindications, I'll be able to go back to my old activities soon."

Joel stood up. You noticed right away that he wasn't in the best of moods.

"I don't think you should come back so soon." he mumbled. "You shouldn't take risks."

"Joel, Doc says she's fine!" Ellie pointed out.

"Maybe, but she almost bled out on my hands. I don't want to risk that again."

Silence fell. The atmosphere became tense in an instant. All the joy you brought with you escaped like air from a burst balloon.

Joel avoided your gaze, but took a defensive stance.

"Ellie, can you go to Doc?" you finally said. "He said he could use your help. They brought him some supplies yesterday."

"Yeah, sure." The girl nodded, standing up and quickly putting on her jacket. "Just don't kill each other here." she mumbled and left, slamming the door.

You rested your elbows on your knees and intertwined your fingers, sighing quietly.

"Joel, you knew perfectly well that I wouldn't stay here forever." You began calmly, trying to choose your words carefully. "All of this was for a moment. Until I feel better. That was what you said."

"I just don't think you should go back to your duties yet. It's not safe for you." He replied, resting his hands on his hips and looking down at you.

"You can't watch over me all the time, Joel!" You groaned, getting up from your chair. "You have some kind of…obsession..."

"Obsession?!" He interrupted you mockingly.

"Yes! You can't control everything. You can't protect everyone. You know perfectly well that I can handle it."

"You almost died last time!" He growled.

"I'll die someday anyway, Joel. You can't save everyone..." You approached him and wanted to put your hand on his shoulder, but he stepped back. "I'm sorry."

You passed him and headed towards the stairs. You wanted to pack your things so you could leave their house the next day. You only regretted that the atmosphere had gone sour so quickly.

You were already halfway up the stairs when Joel's loud voice reached your ears.

"I love you." He said, his voice trembling. You saw that his eyes were shining in the warm glow of the fireplace, he was truly moved. "I've loved you for years. I should have told you in Boston, but I was afraid. I was too selfish, Y/N. I thought I wanted you to be safe, but what I really wanted was to have you all to myself. I wanted to hide you from the whole world like some fucking treasure. When I lost you, everything lost its meaning. I was alone again. It fucking scared me."

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten painfully. Joel took a few steps towards the stairs.

"After all this time, I met you again. I don't know what I should do to atone for what I did to you, babe." he continued, and tears welled up in your eyes. "I almost lost you twice. I can't take it anymore... I love you. I love you so much it hurts. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. I can only promise you that as long as I live, I will fight to keep you safe." 

You didn't have time to answer. You opened your mouth, but Joel stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Tears ran down your cheeks.

He felt empty inside. Everything that had filled him for the past few weeks had simply fled. It was as if someone had woken him from a deep sleep by pouring a bucket of cold water over his head.

He was afraid again. He felt that his hands were shaking slightly, so he pressed them harder into his jacket pockets. He already regretted telling you what he felt, but at the same time he was grateful that he had finally managed to get it all out.

He had never told you that he often woke up at night, because he dreamed about that night when you were injured, it still kept appearing before his eyes. He could still see your blood on his hands, he could still hear your weak voice.

Over all these years, Joel had forgotten what it was like to love. Love only reminded him of the pain of loss, and he didn't want to experience that again.

And then you appeared and became his everything. He had someone close to him again. And Joel was hungry for another person, closeness, intimacy, even love. When you slept next to him, he would often stare at you for hours. He knew your moves, knew your routines. Maybe you didn't even know it, but you had created a semblance of home with him then. He never dared to tell you that.

The last few weeks have been really good. And now he was going to lose it all again? How much more loss did he have to experience in this miserable life...

You couldn't sleep. You lay in bed and listened to the sounds in the house. Ellie appeared only for a moment, saying something about spending the night at a friend's house, and then she left again. You suspected that she sensed the nervous atmosphere and didn't want to stand between you and Joel.

He hadn't appeared until now. The house was quiet, and the clock quietly ticked off the minutes. It wasn't until around midnight that you heard familiar footsteps on the stairs and the door closing on the other side of the hallway. You lay there for a while longer.

Joel left you completely shattered, with a jumble of thoughts in your head and tears streaming down your cheeks. You cried for a while longer before you finally changed into your pajamas and laid down in bed.

But you couldn't take it any longer. You quietly left the room and walked barefoot through the cool hallway. Although you put your ear to Joel's bedroom door, you didn't hear anything. So you pressed the handle and slipped inside.

The room was dark, but you easily made your way to his bed.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" his slightly sleepy voice rang out as you got under his covers.

You didn't answer. You moved closer to him. Joel didn't even move. He felt your warm fingers touch his stubbled cheek, the warmth of your body right next to him.

And then you kissed him. For the first time in so long, he felt the taste of your lips again. They were salty from tears, but soft, delicate, just as he remembered. You kissed him slowly and didn't protest when his arms gathered you so that you were lying on his chest.

He wanted more. He slid his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss. He caressed you, eliciting the most beautiful sighs he'd heard from you.

"I don't want to hurt you, baby..." he whispered as you stood up and with a swift movement took your sweatshirt over your head.

"I know, Joel..." you replied seeing his eyes shining in the dark "I'm always safe with you."

He stood up and sliding his fingers into your hair pulled you in for another kiss. It was strong and full of longing that had filled his heart for so long. You clung to him feeling how much you missed him too.

Joel's lips slid down your neck kissing then your collarbone and shoulders. Familiar fingers slid down your back and then you felt them find the scar on your side. He sighed quietly feeling the length of your wound under his fingertips.

"I'm fine." you assured him kissing his temple.

His hand slid lower. In the dim light from outside he could see a new scar, a trace from when you almost died.

"I love you so much, Y/N..." he whispered "And it scares me..."

"I know, I know..." you took his face in your hands and found his gaze "I'm scared too, but I love you and it gives me strength." his eyes gazed at you tenderly "Yes, I love you. I've loved you for a long time, even though I wanted to forget about it. But I don't want to go back to how it was when all we have is this moment. Make love to me, Joel. I want to feel you again..."

In an instant, he flipped you over onto your back, trapping you between his arms. Your lips collided again. You managed to take his shirt off and soon your hands could touch the body they knew so well.

He was yours. In that moment, you felt it completely. When he kissed your breasts, and his lips hungrily closed on your nipples, you felt the excitement growing between your legs. It was so familiar, and yet so new.

You were different people now, so this was different too.

You lifted your hips slightly as he took off your panties, kissing your thigh tenderly. His hands caressed your body, touching every spot that drew sweet sighs and moans from you.

When you noticed that his gaze had once again wandered to your scars, you helped him find his way back.

"I'm here, baby. I'm with you." You said quietly, touching his face and directing his face towards you.

His fingers slid over your juice-covered folds. Your body recognized him, his touch, his closeness. It was eager to feel him inside too.

"Tell me you want me..." he whispered as he slid down his pants and his hard manhood popped out of them.

"I want you, Joel. I always have and I always will."

"I need to be inside you, baby. Then I'll let you come on my fingers, on my lips, but first..."

"That's fine, baby. I'm in no hurry."

A faint smile appeared on his face. He grabbed his cock and ran the tip over your entrance a few times. When he pushed in slowly, you closed your eyes, moaning softly with pleasure at how well he stretched your walls. He pushed all the way in and Joel lay on top of you, hiding his face in that sweet spot by your collarbone.

"Fuck, amazing..." he groaned "I've missed this feeling. You squeeze me so good, baby."

"Move, please... I need you..."

When he moved for the first time, you already knew you were over the edge. His cock moved inside you slowly. Joel knew your body perfectly, he knew just how to hit you to make you let out all those moans he loved so much.

And he used that knowledge, you were falling apart under him into a thousand pieces. Your nails dug into his shoulders, but he didn't even feel the pain. All that mattered was you and that moment.

"I can't hold out much longer, baby..." he panted, thrusting into you harder and faster. "I haven't had you for so long..."

"I'm close... so close..."

He rose, threw your legs over his shoulders, and began to pound into you harder and harder. In an instant, your whole body trembled as you reached your peak. Joel groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. He thrust a few more times, then pulled out, spilling himself onto your lower abdomen with a loud moan.

"Oh, fuck! Sweet Jesus..."

You were both panting heavily, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other. He didn't have time to react when you unexpectedly sat up, grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, stealing his breath from his lips.

"I love you..." you whispered "I love you so much..."

A few months later.

"Do you miss this?"

"What do you mean?"

Ellie glanced at you from behind the book she was reading and widened her teeth.

"You know what I mean." she replied "Patrols, searching for supplies, shooting..."

"I definitely don't miss that last one." you laughed, but then hissed quietly as you stuck the needle in your finger "Fuck! I'm not cut out for this!"

"You have to be patient. You told me the same thing when I was learning to drive, remember?"

"Too good." you mumbled sucking on your aching finger "It'll take me forever to sew these buttons on."

The door slammed and you both raised your heads. Joel entered the house bringing with him the smell of freshly sanded wood. He smiled at the sight of you.

"Finally!" Ellie jumped up from her armchair "I was supposed to meet up with my friends, and you don't seem to remember how watches work."

"Sorry, kid. Tommy wanted to talk." Joel replied, walking up to you and kissing the top of your head "Go, if you have to."

The door slammed shut immediately and you were left alone. Joel plopped down on the couch next to you, his large hand resting on your rounded belly. He smiled when he felt a gentle kick.

"You're getting bigger." he noticed.

"Fuck, Joel!" you laughed, putting the material and the needle aside "You saw me a few hours ago. I don't grow that fast."

"You just think so."

You shook your head in disbelief. "I think you and Ellie decided to tease me throughout the entire pregnancy. Don't deny it! This morning she asked me if I could still reach the kitchen counter."

"And you can?"

You nudged him hard in the side. "Asshole!"

The news of the pregnancy came to you unexpectedly. Joel still remembered your terrified look when you sat down in front of him and showed him the pregnancy test you brought from the clinic. Your period was already five weeks late, but you didn't have the typical pregnancy symptoms.

You stared at the positive result without saying a word for a long moment, afraid of each other's reactions. Finally, Joel spoke first.

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I don't know, Joel. My mind is blank..."

And then tears rolled down your cheeks. He held you in his arms, and you cried and apologized to him as if this pregnancy was your fault. 

That night you talked about all the possibilities, all the scenarios. You both knew that bringing a child into such a fucked up world was the height of selfishness, but you couldn't make any decisions.

When you fell asleep at dawn, he stared at you for a long time, thinking about it all.

You were his everything. After that night together, you didn't leave his house, but even moved into his bedroom. Joel felt complete, for the first time in many years. After many conversations, you found compromises that satisfied you both and decided to try everything again.

And now - pregnancy. 

He didn't wonder when it could happen, it didn't matter. What mattered was you. If you told him you didn't want this child, he wouldn't protest. But you weren't sure about anything...

However, when you stretched in bed in the morning, mumbling a quiet "Good morning", Joel Miller already knew what he should say.

"Whatever you decide, I'll be there for you. If you want this baby, I'm all in. And you need to know that I'll do everything I can to keep you and the baby safe. I love you, Y/N, no matter what."

He finally felt like he was in the right place. He wanted everything with you - a home, a family, a future. He was finally thinking beyond tomorrow and he loved it.

"I think it's going to be a girl." he said, watching you get up from the couch to make yourself some tea.

"Really? Why do you think that?" you laughed, pouring water into the kettle.

"Just a hunch."

"Uhm. I like it."

"And I like you."

You smiled, and Joel thought that this was what heaven should look like.

Just like you.

the end.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode 2 | Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route

⋆ PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: mentions of hospital and stab wound ⋆ WORD COUNT: 845

A/N: second story mode yup yup yup. might've turned a little different from what you guys expected hehe. and yes this is the third update in a day and the second in a single night i'm genuinely on a roll

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap

Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route Masterlist

Kaminari felt like he was about to lose his mind. He felt restless, both physically and mentally, as he laid in his hospital bed waiting for the doctor’s examination results. His stab wound had been treated and had been bandaged with gauze inside neatly by the medical professionals. He didn’t recall most of this process as he had nearly passed out from the amount of blood he lost from the car ride to the hospital. All he could remember was Sero’s frantic bursts as his friend was terrified of what had happened to Kaminari.

The curtain dividing his bed from others in the room was pulled back as a doctor with a surgical mask and glasses entered his space. Despite the mask covering the doctor’s face, Kaminari recognized the crinkles by their eyes as a smile.

“I’ve got good news for you, Mr. Kaminari.” The doctor paused to look down at their clipboard in their hands as they examined Kaminari’s test results. “Surgery isn’t needed for your wound, fortunately. The knife avoided any arteries and nerves and it wasn’t dug deep enough for surgery. The stitches I administered when you came will be enough.”

The doctor further explained instructions on how to take care of the wound, offering to provide print out instructions after seeing Kaminari’s dazed expression.

“Also, a visitor is here for you,” the doctor stated, bowing as they exited Kaminari’s space.

“Sero, dude, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Everything’s fine,” Kaminari reassured with a sigh, leaning back in his bed as he was convinced his friend was behind the curtain.

“Actually, I wanted to apologize this time.” Kaminari’s eyes widened at the sight of Deku entering his hospital room, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Deku?!” Kaminari exclaimed. “Dude, what’re you doing here? Sero said you were in another country.”

“I was but I got back earlier today.” Deku sat himself down on the stool by Kaminari’s bed. “Sero called me when he was driving you to the hospital and he was panicking. He told me how you didn’t want the others to find out about what happened at the base and he didn’t know what to do or who to call so he called me.”

“That idiot,” Kaminari said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Well as you can see I’m fine so…”

Deku sighed this time. “I didn’t just come here to see if you were okay. I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I did. I should’ve taken the security situation Y/N went through at the office more seriously. I know she technically has my job but it’s my responsibility if something happens to her or the rest of you. And to hear that Kirishima was being stalked and you got hurt… I can’t help but feel guilty.” He looked down, shaking his head at himself. 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Kaminari smiled. “We know you’re busy now and you wanted someone else to take over MFA for a while which is why you asked Y/N to, right? We can take care of ourselves.”

Deku returned the smile, nodding once in affirmation. “I’m glad. You’ve grown a lot since the day we met.”

“Oh, come on! I was eighteen when we met! Of course I’ve grown since then.” Kaminari paused for a moment. “But how have you been? We’ve been complaining how hard it is to get a hold of you.”

“I’m doing alright. I’ve just been going through some things with the photography business which is why I’ve been traveling a lot. I actually have to catch a flight tonight.”

“Tonight? So you’re not going to make it to the party tomorrow?” Kaminari questioned, a hint of disappointment laced in his tone.

“Unfortunately, no.” Deku paused. “But I’m sure Y/N will do an amazing job. And… “ He stood to his feet, getting ready to leave before finishing his sentence. “I hope your relationship with her goes well.”

“Wait, how did you… So you do read the chats!”

Deku laughed. “I pop in to see what I’ve missed from time to time. I can’t be left behind too much now.”

The two laughed and Kaminari felt at ease. Lingering worries about his previous event coordinator finally subsided with Deku’s visit and he was happy Deku had visited, despite the unfortunate circumstances. 

Deku said his goodbyes before eventually having to leave to catch his flight. 

Kaminari leaned back in his bed, resting his eyes for a moment. He felt a twinge of guilt for keeping what had happened at the secret base from you and the rest of MFA and for making Sero keep the secret as well. But he didn’t want to worry his friends.

Kaminari pulled the thin hospital bed sheet up to his chest as he tried to get some sleep. He wasn’t to be discharged from the hospital until tomorrow. He decided he’d tell the rest of the organization what had actually happened tomorrow once he got home. After all, there’s no way anyone found out… right?

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[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down.

parts: previously / next plot: and they were rooommates. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of blood and stitches and drugs and alcohol, this chapter is fluffier because reader deserves a break, reader and bruce discussing their one-night stands, bruce thinks he's funny but he just can't hide how much he likes you okay, jealousy thy name is "disturbed". words: 6.9k. a/n: shoutout to allnurses.com contributing to at least 8 hours of research on how medications are stored in hospitals for one scene. any nurses in chat please do not stone me, I took creative liberties. also, in case there is any confusion, this chapter and the vignette take place all in (mostly) the same day.

The car gets about halfway down the street before Bruce observes out loud, "Something's bothering you."

You're clean and changed, but your hands are shoved between your thighs as you try to control their shake. Knowing what you know now, you have no reason to keep this from him. He is, by all means, the one person you should tell.

But you struggle to work up the courage without a mask looking back at you. The character of Batman you'd created in your head clashes violently with the character of Bruce. You'd written your own Jekyll and Hyde and tripped yourself up in the final act when it turned out they were one and the same, "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"So do you."

You resist the urge to grit your teeth, "It's about Judith."

Bruce thinks for a moment, "The old lady who doesn't like me."

"The very same. I... wasn't there for her last night, when I should have been. She was mugged on her way home."

Bruce doesn't make a big show of a reaction, though you notice he sits straighter, taking a break from gazing out of the window to glance at you every once in a while, "Is she badly hurt?"

"It could've been worse but... she's more shaken up than she wants me to believe."

"And her family?"

"Murdered." Bruce's car rolls by a street corner where a young mother wrangles her child back from the crosswalk, "I tried to convince her to have one of the deacons from church ride home with her from now on but she wouldn't listen. She doesn't want to be babied." Her stubbornness isn't at all unfamiliar.

"Did she see who did it?"

"She said some guys at the liquor store down the way. They hang out there every night," your eyes trail from the window down to the floor before finding Bruce's face. His profile is sharp and clean, the dark neck of his sweater stops just before the hair at his nape begins to cluster. Your eyes follow the bridge of his nose and it mirrors Batman's profile, a mix of pointed and blunt edges, "There's a... an heirloom in her purse. A lighter. She keeps it with her all the time. Her husband had it on him when he... well, he had an awful habit. She'd really like it back."

Bruce turns his head to you and you steel yourself. In the bright early morning, he is annoyingly resplendent. In the unfair way that all pretty people tended to be. It feels wrong to be asking him this. This is a stranger. You're begging for help from a stranger. You force down the sickness rising in your belly, "Please, will you-"

"I'll take care of it." He answers and it is final. He seemed to have made up his mind before you'd even asked.

The resolve in him is enough to slow your shake to nothing. There's a part of you that still doesn't quite believe what you'd seen last night, and so the certainty of Judith's well-being does not deluge you. It trickles down, dripping over your eyelashes, sprinkling off your fingertips.

You let yourself get caught up in his eyes the way you used to. You let the familiarity of them ground you and, though not with a sweeping acceptance, sigh in relief.

It's a small win in the grand scheme of steaming hot bullshit going on in your life.

You’ve taken things from General for Bruce’s sake before. Bandages and needles and disinfectants. This, however… this was a schedule II drug that could land you in prison if you got caught with it. And you were going to walk out of here with it like you were none the wiser.

A hand on your elbow forces you to slow down, drawing you back to your companion’s side. You don’t need to hear it so he doesn’t say it, but you’re embarrassed anyway. How Bruce maintains himself is enviable. “You’re a good actor.” Bruce peeks at you as you guide him through the first floor, “The thing with Gordon. You took it on the chin like a champ. You turned into a whole new person.”

“I avoid implicating myself when I can.”

“The party too. You diffused the tension, like, perfectly.”

Bruce hovers beside you as you call the elevator, a few patients and nurses lingering further behind. You can feel him probing your words for your natural line of thinking, “Couldn’t pull one over on you, though.”

No, you think, you just creeped me out while every bat-shaped clue flew right under my nose.

The elevator door slides open and the two of you squeeze into the back as the rest file in. You find yourself in a corner, braced against Bruce’s side as his hand reaches around your back to hold the railing. One of the nurses catches sight of him and swoons, the other trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

“Coming to see the new wing?” The swooning nurse asks, turning around to grin at Bruce. “Sounds like it’s coming along great. They make lots of helpful noise all day long.”

Bruce laughs good-naturedly, “Hopefully it’ll make up for all the trouble once it’s finished.”

The “uninterested” nurse nods, eyes frantically flashing from Bruce’s eyes to the floor and back over and over, “For sure! It’s really great you give back to General like this. Your dad would be proud.”

His face has no distinct reaction to it, nothing immediately telling that that comment hit too close to home. He smiles as he always does and thanks them as he always should do, and as they get off on the second floor, it’s just you two and an old man waiting for the next stop.

Bruce, to you, had long lived in his father’s shadow. The great Thomas Wayne who, despite his briefly smeared reputation, had been the face of the Wayne family for you. Even the some-twenty years after his passing had yet to shake that image from your brain.

It was his father’s legacy he was tending to here. All of the good and ugly that came with it. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d heard his father would be proud. Did it comfort him? Frustrate him? Did he do this to make his father proud, or because it was expected of him?

Before the flood, you’d heard gossip about Wayne Enterprises going under, the reclusive in the tower giving no sign if he was alive or dead. Knowing what you know now, you wonder how much he truly wants to be a Wayne… with all the baggage that comes with it.

He’s wound tight. You can feel him against you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find his hand on the railing beside you and cover It with your own. He’s shocked, judging by the way he jolts under your touch for a second. You think you’ve overstepped but when you go to apologize, he is already staring wide-eyed at you. Like when you’d caught him on the stairs.

The tension is still there, and his face has fallen in its warmth and friendliness. His hand had only partially slipped out from underneath yours, but as the seconds pass you feel it rest once more, not bothering to shake you away any further.

You both force yourselves to stare ahead until the elevator dings to let you out, but through the reflection on the door, Bruce is still looking at you.

You break first, distracting you both this time as you walk out, “You kept hitting me with your knee.”

Bruce, in a daze, asks, “What?”

“At the party. While me and Roberts were arguing, you’d nudge me with your knee like it was an accident.”

Bruce seems to remember who he is and where you are, because he quickly gets back to himself, “Guess I’m not that good of an actor.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I knew where the conversation was going. I could feel you thinking.”

You remembered holding your breath as the mayor prepared herself for confrontation back then, “And the second time?”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

You flush. You’d been so impassioned that night, defending your hero who, unbeknownst to you at the time, was hiding a snicker behind his glass. You feared you’d be remembering a lot of moments like that over the next few days.

As soon as you both get into your office, you shut the door behind you, “I need you to wait here for me.” Bruce’s face tightens, “Don’t… argue. They keep extra vials of the antivenom down in the ER. I can grab one from the med room, but I can’t have you following me down there. It’s off limits for anyone without ID, let alone a patient and a donor.”

Bruce doesn’t look comfortable. Since last night, you hadn’t been anywhere Bruce or your police detail couldn’t follow. You hadn’t even been allowed to enter your apartment until the latter had deemed the place safe. A med room not much bigger than your office—locked behind an ID scanner—posed less of a threat than your two-bedroom ten minutes away.

But it was two stories down, and anything could happen in the time you were away from Bruce.

You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to think up some plan that allowed him to remain by your side. You have to restrain yourself from feeling… flattered.

Flattery turns to bewilderment as Bruce reaches into his pocket and drops something into your hand. It’s a gadget the size of an AirPods case, shining in the light of the fluorescents. It looked perfectly unassuming and hid—lightweight as it was—a marvel of expensive technology. You could tell just by looking at it. “The hell is this?”

“It’s an EMP generator. Put it in your pocket and I can disable any communications within your vicinity, including cameras.”

“Okay, no. This is a hospital, and I’d be going into the ER with this thing. That’s too dangerous.”

Bruce looks offended. You can practically hear him say “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” with his eyes. He silently holds his phone up to your face and you shouldn’t be as shocked as you are that it’s got live camera feed of the entire hospital. “I can control the radius. You said you trust me. So trust me.”

You swallow back your retort. You did say you were going to trust him on this. Whether or not it would be your doom had yet to be seen. You nod once, dropping the device in your pocket. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

Bruce’s lips purse together. He still doesn’t look settled with letting you go alone, but he has very little room to argue, “Ten minutes.”

You don’t waste time. You skip the elevator for the emergency stairwell, taking two steps at a time until you’re back on the first floor and walking to the ER. The med room at the very end of the hall would—if you were lucky—be as empty as the waiting room. All you needed to do was get in, grab what you needed and very quickly get the hell out of there. Without raising suspicion. You can feel the phantom pull of Bruce’s hand on your arm, begging you to slow down before you draw unwanted attention.

You round the corner to the med room, scan your ID, and head in.

The two nurses waiting inside greet you, analyzing you curiously, “Hey doc, need something?”

Words rattle in your brain like a d20 on a deception roll. You pray for something good, “I just wanted to grab some meds for my patient.”

One nurse sits at a computer, head titled in confusion, “Did you put in a prescription? You could’ve sent a nurse to grab it for you.”

Your eye catches the camera on the ceiling, its dark glass glinting at you, mocking you. A scrying glass recording your every move. And Bruce on the other side of it, hopefully buying you an alibi. “It’s a… special case. My patient needs it soon, so I thought I’d speed up the process and grab it myself.” You force a lightness into your tone, trying your best to appear apologetic and not at all suspicious.

The nurse hums. Then, she jabs the pen she’d holding over her shoulder, “Cart’s over there. Help yourself.”

You maneuver through the shelves separating either half of the room, keeping your head straight and eyes from wandering.

Your biggest hurdle was at the back of the room.

It’s a clunky cabinet on wheels with a monitor on top and an ID scanner on the side. In one of its many drawers, your golden ticket awaited, but these things kept logs of who checked out what, and if someone were to go through them later and find out you’d stolen a highly addictive drug without prescription…

You swallow. The generator in your pocket suddenly hangs heavy against your thigh. You glance at your phone for the time and note that four minutes have passed. You need to move quickly.

You approach the cart, fingers twitching at your sides, and right as you step up to the monitor, it flickers and goes dark. You give the power button a push for good measure but nothing happens.

Well, not nothing. You hear the cart drawers all click at once, like they’d unlocked by themselves. Tentatively, you try the top drawer and it slides out without issue. Glancing behind you, you check to make sure no nurses have wandered over, but you are the only one on this side of the room.

Your fingers drift down to the right drawer next and that one slips open too—by the grace of some god—and there you see it. It has an alien glow to it, a more subdued blue to its adversary’s green. The top of the tray holding the vials pops open with just as much ease as the drawer, allowing you to sneak one into your pocket. You shut the drawers, slowly backing away from the cart, but the monitor does not turn back on.

“What? This thing too?” You’re startled when the nurse from before suddenly jogs up from behind you, grumbling under her breath as she smacks the monitor.

You rush to cover, “It just went kaput on me.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” She maneuvers around the shelves and back to her desk where you see the other nurse at the desk scratching his head. Their monitor is glitching, having some gory digital stroke, “Here. You can sign out what you take for now and I’ll bother IT about this.”

You write down “Ibuprofen” and your name next to it, “Never seen that happen before.”

“Yeah. Thing froze up on me a minute ago. Guessing around the same time this thing died on you.”

Your stomach is still nervously fluttering, but you do feel a little smug. “Weird.” You hand her back the clipboard and go to grab a bottle out of a different drawer. “Good luck.”

You try not to sprint past the nurses as they fuss with the computer. You’re out and back upstairs before your ten minutes are up.

Bruce is sat leisurely on your couch, no doubt watching you scurry into the office on his phone. He looks from the pill bottle in your hand and back to you.

You toss the bottle into his lap, plopping down on the couch beside him. He frowns at the label. “For you,” you poke his injured leg and his eyes follow your every movement, “you’re favoring the other leg today.”

He can’t bring himself to deny that, even if the look he gives you from beneath his eyelashes says otherwise. You flash the antivenom at him as a peace offering. “How’d I look?”

His gaze flutters slowly from the vial to you before he shows you his phone. The screen is a recording of the medication room. It shows you greeting the nurses, walking up to the med cart, and then… nothing. Black screen for forty-five seconds. When it flickers back on, you're signing the clipboard and walking away. Your body sags into the couch with relief.

“You did good.” Bruce praises you.

“I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“There are worse places to do it.” You look at him and he’s smiling just a little. You’re aware, though, that he’s aware of the toll this has taken on you. He takes the vial out of your hands and puts it in his own pocket, holding his hand out to you. “We should get going.”

Bruce follows dutifully behind you as you lead him back down to the first floor. You feel much better than when you'd arrived, but your heart stutters each time a security guard passes you by. Years ago, stealing and getting away with it was second nature to you. You were also arrogant back then, uncaring of what happened to you. How quickly the tides had changed.

You feel Bruce nudge you with his arm. He isn't looking at you, but you know what he's trying to tell you: you've got a few more hallways to turn down before the exit. You just have to-

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, nerves electrified, only to find Em running to catch up with you, "What are you doing back at work already? Is your arm okay?"

The adrenaline rush had done wonders for your pain tolerance. You didn't even think about it until she brought it up, "I'm fine, it's fine. It's-" You go to rush out some sort of explanation but at that moment, Bruce turns around.

You can see the moment of impact across Em's face as soon as she realizes who you're with, her back straightening and hand pressing down flyaways. In an instant, she has forgotten all about you. For better or for worse. She rubs her palm on her leg before holding it out to shake his hand, "Mr. Wayne! Hi! I'm surprised to see you here." Her eyes are twinkling, "Everything alright?"

"Just some leg pain, nothing painkiller can't fix." He flashes the pill bottle for good measure. You're honestly impressed he admitted to being in pain at all, "It's good to see you again, Dr. Madison."

Em's face droops into a frown, "Well, you look fantastic, but you've got a mirror," she pats your arm, "and I'm sure you're being well taken care of."

"Only by the best."

You smile (borderline pleadingly), preparing to dismiss yourselves while you still have your wits about you, but then Em asks Bruce a question and, to your surprise, Bruce is happy to entertain her.

It strikes you that you had landed in your situation with no prior interest in who Bruce was, and it shows in how you barely keep up with the topic of conversation.

It's like watching a tennis match between the two. The topic in Em's court, then Bruce's, then Em's, back and forth without issue. No awkward pauses or uncomfortable looks. She recalls details about him out of thin air, your knowledge in comparison merely fringes of what Em knew.

The longer it goes on, the more it weighs on you that aside from the strange man who'd circled around you like a frightened kitten, you really didn't know anything about Bruce.

You knew Batman. You felt you knew him. Even when his identity was still a secret, you had felt comfortable with him. Vulnerable, even. He'd let you touch him in your home, fixing him up and helping you with this mess and... outside of that, what did you really know?

You feel an odd twist in your chest.

Em's voice floats back in, disrupting your retrospection, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. You must get so sick of these places after having been so many times."

"They still have their magic," Bruce grins, "but I don't like being far from home."

"Really? You could go anywhere in the world and you'd still miss Gotham?" Em's tone is teasing, but curious. Something flickers in her eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

Bruce takes in the hallway, chest swelling with pride, "Lots of things to miss about it."

"Name one."

Bruce's eyes cut to the side as he thinks, "The noise."

"You can get noise anywhere. LA, Chicago-"

"It's special here."

"No, try again."

His smile turns sheepish, "The rain."

"Now you're lying. Come on, pretty boy. I know you've got something. Penthouse, nightlife- heck, I'd even understand the freaks and clowns giving everyone PTSD."

Bruce exhales, purses his lips. His eyes flit around the white walls, "Okay. I'd miss you."

What the hell?

You straighten up. The absurdity (blatant sweet-talk) of the line shouldn't work—seriously, it wouldn't work on you—but Em goes pink in the cheeks. A strand of dark hair falls from her bun and frames her smile just so, "Well," she snorts, "aren't you just a flirt?"

To your utter dismay, they are both eating this up. "You light up the room, Dr. Madison. Your patients are very lucky."

"My patients are usually seven and way more interested in the candy I bring them."

"Candy?" Bruce finally looks at you, all humor and charm, "I never get candy. I just get yelled at."

Something in you is disturbed when Em grabs onto Bruce's arm, hanging off him as she pouts at you, "Oh! You're heartless!"

"Very much so." Bruce is somber.

"I don't-" Your voice comes out strained, a little too defensive right off the bat, "I don't yell." But you'd gotten close, and you got closer everyday, "But if I did, you'd deserve it."

Bruce is amused. You watch as he pretends to cower into Em, even as he dwarfs her in size. They start joking back and forth, more teases at your expense, and you notice that the persona he puts on around others is practically nonexistent here. You'd watched it dissolve within minutes. It's refreshing, you realize, that he seems to really be enjoying himself right now.

You catch Bruce insisting that he ought to get going, sharing pleasantries and desires to visit once more. Em looks genuinely saddened to let him go. The second Bruce's back turns, Em reaches out and squeezes your hand, whispering, "Please tell me he's single."

You fluster. You imagine yourself in the car ride back to the tower asking Bruce what he thinks about Em, offering to exchange numbers between them, and you're disturbed again.

Twenty-four hours ago, you would've been warning her to run for the hills. Twenty-four hours ago, he was only Bruce Wayne. Now he was Batman and all that came with it and, well... once upon a time, you would've wanted nothing more than for Bruce Wayne to sweep Em off her feet. Batman had always been more your style.

Then, you realize, you don't actually know the answer to her question.

Em looks expectant. You shrug. She exaggerates her disappointment but releases you all the same, "Keep me posted."

"I'm comparing the samples from the crime scene to the antivenom. I should have something in a few hours." Bruce taps the antivenom vial, watching the remaining blue liquid slosh against the glass, before handing it off to Alfred.

You're mesmerized by this backyard (or, more aptly put, garage) chemistry lab. Beakers and flasks spread out on the long table as you watch from a stool a few feet away, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"College," after a few seconds of silence from you, he adds on begrudgingly, "I started messing around with stuff down here when I was 13."

"You had all this when you were 13?"

"Some of it, whatever I could get my hands on. I liked to see how things worked."

You have a unique opportunity to learn about Bruce here, so you take it with both hands, "You majored in chem, then."

"And biology, and physics."

Your eyes blow wide. "You had three majors?"

"I bounced from one to another, sometimes double majored if I liked the professors. I followed my interests and they took me everywhere," Bruce picks up the venom test tube, little drops of green pooling at the bottom of the glass, "I've enrolled in more universities than I have degrees."

Your eye twitches, just a little annoyed, "Must've been nice going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

Bruce senses your tone of voice. He peers at you from the side, elbows resting on the table, "I spent a lot of time away from home. It must've been enough because I don't miss it."

"You said the same thing to Em earlier." You recall.

"I didn't think about it as much while I was gone, but when I came home for good... I just couldn't imagine myself leaving like that again."

"He barely liked boarding school," Alfred chimes in from the other side of the room, lazily reading a book at Bruce's desk. Boarding school was posh. You imagined little Bruce in a school uniform like the British boys in movies, "I should bring out the scrapbooks once we have a moment."

Bruce sets the test tube back on its rack with a bit of aggression, "Thank you, Alfred. You can go now."

Alfred chortles. He skims one more page of his book and then shoves it under his arm on the way back up. The elevator clinks and rattles up the tower until it stops some sixty stories up.

It's quiet now. You sort of appreciate the silence- the relative silence. There is the steady drip, drip, drip coming from here and there in the cave. The whirring of the machines, the humming of the lights, the very faint sound of a news anchor forecasting snowy skies this weekend. Bruce's breathing.

It's harder to hear unless you focus on it. His mountainous build hunched over the table—staring into the venom as it stares back—rises and falls in slow rhythm. You watch him being and it captivates you. For the umpteenth time since last night, you are struck with the reminder that this was Batman. In all his broody glory, an arm's length away from you, about a hundred feet under the city.

It's funny; you paid so little attention to the man before, and now you wanted to take him apart and examine his terrible insides. You have accidentally become obsessed with the man.

"I want to take you to Blackgate."

"Sorry?"

"Lucien is there," the name makes your blood run cold, "he was with the Vipers the longest. He could answer a few things for us."

You do your best not to immediately say no. Not because you think he'll force you, but because you know—somehow—that he won't, "What about Detective Gordon? Shouldn't that be his job?"

"I think he'll talk to you." Bruce turns slowly until his back is pressed against the desk, arms crossed over his chest and pulling his shirt completely taut. "He knows you."

You hadn't seen Lucien since the night Alex died. For once, you're kind of grateful Bruce can read you. He turns fully toward you, "I can go alone."

"You just said you think he'll talk to me."

"I can make him talk." His head droops a little to meet your eyes, expression impossibly understanding. You have no doubt he can. Your throat feels like it's on the verge of closing up. Somehow, sending Bruce alone to handle him felt worse.

"But you think I can..." You have to pause to force in a breath, feeling yourself go lightheaded, "You think I can get more out of him." Bruce doesn't respond to that. He's still watching you like you might start stress-sobbing. "Okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm."

Bruce calls your name. You'd been tracing the lines of his arms with your eyes to distract yourself, not processing how much closer he'd gotten until you feel his breath against your eyelashes.

His arms are uncrossed now, one hand pressing into the table beside you, the other hovering by his hip. His fingers twitch. Does he want to touch you? You were about to go three for three with the crying in his arms thing.

You force yourself off the stool and the speed at which you stand gives Bruce very little time to react. Your chest bumps against him, but you're already slipping behind him, "Lemme see your stitches," you rasp, hand ghosting over his shoulder, "need to... redress them, probably."

Bruce tries looking over his shoulder at you but you hide behind him and after a moment, he relents. His shoulders drop in defeat. You watch him drag your stool into the light and sit.

The dismal mood did you a favor. He looked like he'd be submissive today.

You're halfway through clearing away his dried blood when you ask, "Are you single?"

Bruce's shoulder jolts just the tiniest bit, almost driving your finger into the stitch. "What?"

"Em asked," you quickly explain, "and I realized I didn't know."

You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but his answer is as straightforward as you could hope for, "Yes."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"I mean... I sort of assumed..." What did you assume, exactly? You couldn't see him with a long term partner, definitely not like this, but the idea that there wasn't anybody didn't sit right with you, "no flings? Situationships, even?"

"Why? Is Dr. Madison interested?"

Your jaw clenches. You force the muscles in your face to relax, "I just don't want any secret lovers of yours adding me to their shitlist if I go through with your plan. I can't stress how little I want to fake-fight over you right now."

Bruce huffs. You finish cleaning around his wound when he pipes up again, "I had something... someone. It didn't last."

"Oh. Are you... tender about it?"

"Not anymore. I don't have time for that kind of thing anyway."

He says it like it doesn't bother him, but in the way someone might brush off a scrape on the knee or a paper cut. Like it stung, but you had to be a big boy about it. The pain would go away eventually.

You press new gauze over the stitches, taping it down as gently as you could, "I assumed someone like you would have a whole lot of someones, a revolving door even," your eyes flit over his other bruises and healed cuts, "I never made time for relationships either. I was kind of just going through the motions."

"No one interested you?" Bruce rolls his shoulders once you peel away from him. He doesn't look at you when he asks that.

"Just... childish crushes here and there. Sometimes I'd let someone take me home..." Your voice catches in your throat for a moment. You recall a stamped down memory, one of you standing blindfolded in your apartment imagining the Batman with his mouth on your throat. That wasn't very long ago. Your breath shudders as you fit Bruce into the memory instead. You don't... know how to feel about it.

"Never back to yours? And here I thought Judith was just hard on me." You belatedly register Bruce standing, rolling his shirt up his arms before pulling the neck over his hair. His question hangs lightheartedly.

Your shoulders sag, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you I was paranoid about letting one-night stands into my home."

"Why? 'Cause you let me in?"

The back of your neck grows hot. "What about you? You ever bring yours back to the cave?"

After he's done tucking his shirt into his pants, Bruce shakes his head at you, "No. Just you."

That was the second time he'd said that to you. You were starting to feel special.

You step out of the shower and you think, almost as soon as your foot touches heated floors, that you really despise Bruce Wayne.

The towels are warm too, waiting for you as you preen yourself in the mirror, a clean you staring back. You kept your toiletries bag on the bathroom counter, afraid to unpack anything as you rustled around for deodorant. It was massive and quiet. The water pressure alone had you swearing at the marble lining of the shower.

Bruce eventually lured you downstairs with the promise of making dinner. Alfred was skeptical, but had backed off and allowed Bruce full range of the kitchen, still possessed by his book next to the fire.

He'd asked you what you had the stomach for. Eventually he was copying something out of a celebrity recipe book with you beside him.

You argued that he hadn't really made you dinner given that you had helped him do half of everything, but it was his ingredients and it was his kitchen and the food tasted good so you didn't argue long.

After Alfred offered his stamp of approval, he'd retired for the night and left you and Bruce in the kitchen to clean up. Bruce had left the pots and pans to you when you proved too nervous to handle the porcelain, "Alfred won't kill you if it breaks."

"Alfred would kill me for less, I think."

Bruce gives a short laugh, drying off the last pot. He's pouring you a glass of the wine you'd opened last night when you slide his little gadget across the counter, "I forgot to give that back to you." You swirl your glass, admiring the color as Bruce packs away the leftovers. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Em earlier."

"I was. Your friend is funny."

"I... also noticed something you said. When she asked you what you would miss about Gotham, you mentioned the noise and the rain. Would you really miss all that?"

Bruce glances at you, popping a top onto a glass bowl, "Of course. It's part of what makes the city."

Your eyes narrow, searching for the lie, but there isn't one. He's being sincere. "Is that why you became Batman? Because you love this city that much?"

You can feel the mood getting doused with ice water. It forces you upright in your chair, makes your hand clench around the stem of your glass. Anyone with eyes could tell you'd just touched a nerve.

But he answers you, intense as it comes out, "I hated it." The loathing is a mere shell of what it used to be, you can tell, "I hated what it took from me." His eyes cast down to the countertop. "At first, I was aimless. Everyone was worried about the future of the company but Alfred and I were just trying to make it through the day. Over the years, I boiled up with this... restlessness. I still didn’t know where I was going but I was full of something for once. I studied, I traveled, I learned from all manner of teacher. And when I came home, I was... determined."

His words sit heavily on you. You can see flecks of that restlessness in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as he rests them against the countertop. "Why a bat?" You whisper.

"They're what I feared the most."

Past tense. "Feared?"

"I got over it. I won't let them close enough to bite, but..." The humor in his voice breaks the intensity of his expression.

You mull that over, "You became what you feared to strike fear."

"Not anymore," his head shakes, "fear is a tool, but... there's enough fear in this city. I wasn't making a change, I was making it worse."

You remembered the first time you'd ever heard of the Batman. Back then, he was just "Vengeance". In the grand scheme of fucked up things this city had to offer, someone running around dressed as a bat didn't register as abnormal. Another Tuesday, maybe. You awaited what they'd say about his crimes: a mugger beaten and strung up on the street, a gang felled and dropped at the GCPD's door. You remembered something stirring in you when he put away the Joker.

"I remember when you became a hero. Like really, to everyone. When you took shape… they were flying in people. I was rushing in patients while you stood on top of the Garden and pulled people out of the flood. I hadn’t felt hope like that since… yeah."

Your admission moves something in Bruce. His eyes find yours, "I was just doing what you'd been doing for years."

"But I never left that hospital. You transcend boroughs, the gangs, everything. I used to think you couldn’t possibly be one guy. I still can’t believe it. How are you not dead on your feet by now?" Bruce smiles knowingly at you and you feel yourself flush, "Besides that. You’ve been doing this for longer than I've been around to patch you up."

"That would be Alfred."

"You should tell him, you know. That you appreciate him. I think he'd like to hear how much he means to you more often." Bruce's eyes soften. He doesn't debate you. "Anyway. How's that sedative going?"

"I'll take another look before I leave tonight."

Oh, yeah. This guy is Batman.

You don't know when next you'll get this chance, "Can I ask a favor? Can I... watch you put it on?" Bruce wobbles to the side, genuinely confused. "The suit?"

He examines you, mouth almost curling up into a shocked smile. He hadn't expected you to ask that, that's for sure. "All of it?"

You grip your glass so hard you think it might shatter, "No." And then, when he has the audacity to snicker, "Asshole."

He stays true to your request.

You watch with your back pressed up against the wall. His under suit hangs undone at his hips while he leans over his desk, digging his fingers into a can of black paint. He uses the reflection of his computer screen to smear it over his eyelids and under his eyelashes until the white skin beneath disappears.

Next is zipping up the under suit. You barely resist rushing over to hold his bandage steady as the suit catches on it, but he manages to get it up and over without pulling it off. Then come the plates of armor. Each piece clips into place, clinging to his waist and chest and arms. You've seen it up close enough times to know the quality of it, a wonder how he'd gotten his hands on that kind of stuff until now.

You don't ask him to, but when it's time to put his cowl on, he turns sideways so you can see.

His gloved hand combs through his hair, pushing back the longer strands so he could fit the cowl over it.

It's kind of embarrassing how it takes your breath away. Bruce had quite literally transformed before your eyes, and now there was no denying it.

Bruce stands still as your eyes bore into him.

After a few seconds of admiring every piece of the suit, your eyes flit up to his face. He's not looking at you, almost shy. Apart from Alfred and, perhaps, his someone, Bruce has probably never put on the suit in front of anyone else. Is it weird you missed seeing him shy? "It fits perfectly." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course it does. You know it's dumb to say. Bruce doesn't say that, though.

He waits a beat before turning away from you, his cape sending a breeze of cool air up against your legs. His car awaits on the train tracks, headlights beaming into the near endless darkness as he approaches and you follow.

The car thrums eagerly with life at the push of a button, sending vibrations through the ground, all the way up to the ceiling where you hear a sudden flurry of wings and chirping. Bowing your head close to Bruce, you watch about a hundred bats scurry about above you, disturbed by the sudden rumble of the engine. Bruce holds his cape over your shoulder, though none of the bats fly low enough to concern him. "They don't freak you out a little bit?"

"They haven't bothered me."

"Well, when you dress like them I guess they get confused."

"I'll be back before sunrise," Bruce promises, "and I'll look into Judith for you. Maybe you should... call first."

You're tickled by the discomfort he's so desperately trying to hide, "Scared of a little old lady?"

He pointedly ignores you. You step back as he throws open the door and settles into his car, but before he can pull off into the darkness, you shout his name to get his attention over the roaring engine, "Hey! Be safe."

Bruce looks at you and... you don't know what he's thinking, only that the muscles in his jaw relax a bit. Was he used to that? Did Alfred often stand on the cold, empty train tracks before every patrol and wish him luck on another night of beating criminals to a pulp? Was he used to the worrying? Annoyed by it, even?

He doesn't say anything. The car leaves in a spray of dust and you hide your face in your shirt to shield yourself from it. By the time the dust settles, you can only see two red lights blurring into the distance.

[redbird-tf]

Mended Hearts

Nightwing x batsis reader

Summary: Nightwing awakens in the Batcave after a mind-controlling encounter with the Mad Hatter, only to discover he hurt the person he cares for most. How could he ever forgive himself.

Word count: 930

Warning: mention of injuries

Nightwing's head was foggy as he slowly gained consciousness, it felt like he had been out for weeks. His heavy eyes finally opened and recognized the familiar rock ceiling above him as the bat cave. He tried to sit up but found it impossible. He turned his head and found himself restrained to a medical table. His body ached at every inch, and his memory was fogged beyond belief, What happened to him?

“Bruce? Alfred?” He tried to call out, but his throat was raw and dry. He lay there for hours trying to remember what had happened knowing there was probably good reason he was in such a state. He turned his head hearing the door open and saw Alfred stepping into the cave. “Master dick, you're awake” he stated with a little shock in his voice, he walked over and began examining him. “What happened?” Dick asked. “Let me call master bruce first”

Less than 2 minutes had passed before the bat appeared, and made his way to dicks side. “Nightwing do you remember your name?” Bruce asked “dick grayson, what going on?” He asked growing more anxious “What was the last thing you remember,” Bruce asked again, “i- i don't remember, why am i here Bruce!? What happened!?” He asked pulling against his restraints. “Alfred?” Bruce questioned “i believe whatever effects mad hatter had on master dick have worn off” Alfred stated. “Someone answer me!” Dick demanded. Bruce sighed removing his mask and began undoing his restraints. “A week ago, we were dispatched to deal with the mad hatter after he escaped from Arkham. We had infiltrated his hiding place. We were dealing with his goons when you spotted Hatter and against my orders went after him alone. By the time i caught up, you were gone” bruce explained

“and how did i end up back here,” dick asked rubbing his wrist “Over the week I and the others responded to sightings of you and followed your trail. You were being mind controlled by him, you attacked multiple of us when we confronted you until i and Tim was able to take you down” Bruce finished. “Hatter?” He questioned for the last time, “taken care of” Bruce stated.

Bruce took dick back up to the manor to rest properly where he ran into Tim and Damian. “I see you're not beating anyone down anymore,” Damian said in his bratty voice. “I'm so sorry, both of you, i never wanted to hurt you…” he explained in sorrow. “Where y/n?” He asked turning to Bruce “On a mission, now go rest” Bruce demanded. Dick tried to sleep but was pledged by guilt, he couldn’t sleep until he knew exactly what he had done. He silently made his way down the bat cave stairs before pausing. “Are you planning to tell master dick the truth about y/n?” Alfred asked Bruce who was busy at the computer “No, i want y/n to be able to make that decision, he’s already too hard on himself” Bruce's tone was serious. Dicks mind started to run.“have you told her about Master dicks current state?” Alfred questioned back “No, i don't know how she’ll react” he stated coldly.

“What happened to y/n?” They both turned around in shock, “you should be in bed” Bruce started “What have i done!?” Dick shouted fear and anger laced his words. “Get in the car” Bruce instructed. They had arrived at one of the many safe houses and Bruce led him to a room slowly opening the door. There you were, an arm in a cast, heavy bandages around your head and throat, heavily stitched lacerations and hooked up to a heart monitor. Dick backed himself into the wall guilt and denial filling his body. “She was the first one to make contact with you…” Bruce paused seeing the fear on his son's face “I'll give you a moment” Bruce said excusing himself.

dick watched your chest rise and fall while you slept unable to look away. He couldn’t believe it, he had beaten someone he loved, his sister, to a bloody pulp. How could he let himself do that? “Dick..?” He broke from his trance seeing you awaken. More fear filled his body unknowing how you'd react to seeing your attacker. Your eyes were wide but slowly softened as you realized the man across from you looked more terrified than you. Your body was weak but you mustered the strength to hold your hand out towards him.

He was shocked but slowly made his way towards you, softly taking your hand into his, holding it as if it was made of glass. His knees collapsed at your bedside and tears streamed down his face. “Y/n i am so sorry for what I've done, I promise you’ll never have to see me again” he cried “No!” you screeched with a hoarse voice “Y/n, i almost killed you, You're not safe around me,” he explained grinding his teeth at the thought. “Please, dick...i still need you” you began to cry “i don't care what happened that night, it wasn’t your dick!” you said weakly gripping his hand “But it was..” he whispered “No, dick you were the first person i ever felt safe with. The only person i felt i could trust completely. I need you. Ill always need dick Grayson” you cried out. He embraced you so softly, allowing you to hide your teary face in the crock of his neck. “I'll be here as long as you need me”

[luvyeni]

CONSEQUENCES OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. ( chapter. 42 )

— CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: frustration + knife + hand = emergency room 😰

— 𖦹 warnings?

previous - next - masterlist

jake looked around the emergency room for you, immediately spotting you. “yn!” you turned to the boys who looked like he seen a ghost. “hi.” you held your wounded hand with a rag you found in your closet.

“yn how did this happen?” he said, his heart finally calming down, knowing that you weren’t actually bleeding out like the voices in his head were telling him. “i really wanted to get the crib open, but i could, so i go a knife.” you pointed to your hand. “and five minutes later this happened.

he sighed, sitting down. “i asked you to call him if you needed me, you didn’t have to do that.” you pouted. “i just wanted to open it, it didn’t take much.” he inspected your hand. “yn look at your hand, next time call me, i don’t care if it’s to find a loose screw, you call me.”

you were called to the back, jake following close behind you. “let’s take a look at that hand.” the doctor took the rag off, cringing at the cut. “it’s gonna need a few stitches.” you nodded. “you’ll need to stay off that hand for a while.” jake listened closely. “you’re dad i’m assuming?” the doctor pointed to him. “yeah.”

“well then you’ll have to step up and help her .” jake nodded. “of course.” the doctor left the room to go get the supplies. “you okay?” you nodded. “you seem more worried then me, you would’ve thought i was going into labor, i can only imagine what that would be like when the day comes,” he chuckled. “well i was worried about you.” you smiled. “thank you for coming.”

the doctor shortly returned , stitching up your hand, wrapping it with a cloth bandage. “try not to get that wet okay?” you nodded. “be careful okay, you really should be on bed rest, you look like you could go in any day.”

jake guided you to the car, helping you into the car – even though you protested. “yn just let me help you.” he said, closing the door, running around the car to the drivers side. “that’s what i’m here for.”

you guys made it back to your apartment, jake helping you all the way up to your apartment, opening the door. “go sit.” you waddled to your seat, he smiled. “cute.” you turned to him. “there’s nothing cute about me waddling like a penguin.” he sat down next to you. “everything about you is so cute.” you slapped his arm. “stop it.” he laughed.

jake was nothing sort of a gentleman for the entire day, helping you do things, cleaning your apartment, anything you asked, he did. “okay jake sit down before your legs give out.” you patted the seat. “let’s order some food okay, we can watch a movie.”

jake in his mind wanted to believe this was a home date – much like you used to have before he fucked it up. “sure, but i’m paying.”

you guys ordered some food, and you turned on a movie, jake helped you change into some comfortable clothes, sitting down to eat the food. “good?” you gave him a thumbs up, your face full of food, his heart was pounding, you just did understand how the slightest thing you did made him crack a big smile.

after eating, jake cleared the table, you stretched out on the couch. “getting sleepy?” you nodded. “let’s get you to bed then? how does that sound.” you tiredly nodded, he helped you up, guiding you to your bedroom.

“it’s late outside.” you yawned as he helped you into the bed. “you shouldn’t drive this late at night.” your eyes were closed. “i’m fine, i’ll be back in the morning.” he went to turn the light off, but you grabbed his hand. “please don’t go, i don’t want you to.”

he stared down at you, he didn’t want to leave either – so he didn’t, taking off his sweater along with his shirt, climbing into bed with you. “happy.” you shook your head no. “what do you need? you in pain?” you shook your head. “what’s wrong then?” you pulled him closer. “come closer.”

his hand rested on your stomach, cuddling closer to your request. “this okay.” you nodded. “perfect.” you felt safe in his arms, much like before. “thank you for today, really.” you spoke up. “i told you yn.” he said moving a piece of hair out your face. “i’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me.”

you finally opened your eyes, he was already staring at you. “jake?” he hummed. “please kiss me.” he eyes widened. “a-are you sure?” you nodded. “please, i need to know.” you said. “need to know what?” he questioned. “i need to confirm if i still like you or not.

he wasted no time, gently holding your cheek. planting a sweet kiss on your lips. he pulled away, caressing your cheek, almost scared for your answer. “well?”

you closed your eyes like you were thinking. “hmm i don’t know, kiss me so i can see.” he sighed in relief, you chuckled. “did i scare you?” you said. “yeah you did.” he playfully pinched your side. “ow!”

he was the on cloud nine, you lied in his hand, you had fallen asleep shortly after, but he couldn’t sleep, so he just watched you, , you looked so pretty at the moment, he couldn’t help but replay the moment over and over in his head – he couldn’t believe it, he almost wanted to wake you up just to ask if he was dreaming.

“it’s rude to stare.” your sleepy voice pulling him out of his daze. “did i wake you?” he asked. “no, she’s up and she wants me to know she’s up.” you winced holding your stomach as you felt her kick. “she kickin?” you nodded.

he suddenly was face to face with your stomach. “hey, hey you in there.” you laughed. “your mom is trying to sleep right now, and you’re making it hard for her.” he said. “if she doesn’t get enough sleep, she becomes a monster.” you pinched the back of his neck , he winced, smiling, coming back up, kissing your forehead.

“you never answered.” he said, you looked at him confused. “you never answered i’d you liked me or not.” you laughed. “you’re still in my bed aren’t you? i don’t just let anyone in here.” you tapped his nose. “well i like you too.”

“of course you do, what’s not to like.” you yawned getting sleepy again. “go to bed.” you closed your eyes. “good night jakey.” he smiled.

“good night princess.”

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @j-wyoung @whoslai @cha0thicpisces @sunsunl0ver @wonyoungsvirus @omgtintarr @en-dazed @kwiwin @httpsrinrin @igotkpoops @enhaz1 @ahnneyong @electrobutterfly @nes-caf @beomgyusonlywife @jup1t3r-y30n @gyulune @ddazed-lhs @shuichi-sama @mixtape-racha @rikisly @ilikekpop-c @jenjnk @ilovehimyourhonour @peachyun02 @primroselover @sxurgrapes

©️LUVYENI

[brokenpieces-72]

Going Dark

COD Gangster AU

Navigation

Kate had met with her friend, Charlotte at the gathering. Her hope was to exchange what information she could with her while having another ear close by.

When Makarov gave his speech she’d gotten a text from Price.

“141 going Dark.”

Kate didn’t have time to try and help Farah, and there was too much risk in doing so. At least Alex had tried. Her main priority was you and getting you to safety. As soon as Charly noticed the text she left to get the car.

You sat in the backseat furiously texting Kyle and Johnny, praying for a response. You keep trying to refresh the messages, seeing how long it’s been since sending them.

“Ya alright back there love?” Charlotte asks from the front seat. Laswell is staring out the window, lost in thought in between text messages. You look up from your phone, and meet Charlotte’s eyes in the rear view mirror. You nod.

“Y-yeah. Fine.” You say, finally setting your phone screen down. Then you pick it up again and text Graves.

“What happened?! What did you do?!”

He texts back right away.

“Exactly as you told me to. We got em kid.”

You try to ask him what he means but your text won’t go through. He’s blocked your number.

Charlotte pulled into a parking lot and exits the vehicle with Laswell. While Laswell made her way to the old hotel building Charlotte opened the door for you, offering a hand. After everything you welcome the comfort of physical touch. Charlotte escorts you inside and you make your way up a few flights until you reach the honeymoon suite. Laswell knocks on the door.

“Watcher-1.” Laswell says, and the door opens. You go in with them and looks around eyes wide.

Alejandro is pacing, bruises blotting his face and arms. Simon is helping Rudy who is laying on ratty couch, getting makeshift stitches. Kyle and Soap are bandaging themselves, with a nasty wound on Soap’s arm and Kyle’s arm caked in blood. Price closes the door behind you.

“You said Graves would help.” He comments before anyone can say anything else. You go very very quiet. Price is staring you down. His face is blank but one word will change that. You don’t know what to say to him. Graves had fucked them over but surely something else was going on.

“I dont know what happened.” You say quickly.

Price shakes his head and steps further into the room while all you can do is stand there, frozen in place. You shouldn’t have told Graves, you shouldn’t have tried to help. Price doesn’t say anything and yet it feels like he’s saying everything. You just want it out.

“I don’t know what happened!” You repeat turning to look at Price.

“You told Graves. That’s what happened! Graves is not your father, he can’t do what he did!” Price tells you. Laswell tries stepping in and he raises a finger to stop her.

“No. Don’t defend them. They messed up, they take the fall.”

“I was trying to help!” You argue. “That’s all I’ve been doing!”

“You took a risk that was never your decision.”

“I got the cops involved so that something could actually be done, people could be put behind bars!”

“You’re not your father!” Price shouts. The entire room goes silent. You don’t have anything to say to that. The others don’t say anything either. No one defends you. No one argues with Price.

Then you notice red and blue lights. Your eyes widen. How could this get any worse? Graves was about to show you. Price looks at Kate and Charlotte who leave the room. The last thing Price wants is for the two of them to get into shit and lose their positions as high as they are. Alejandro curses in Spanish seeing the place is surrounded. There was no way out, but the cops weren’t looking for Charlotte and Laswell.

“Go with them.” Price orders you.

“I’m staying.” You say. You look at Soap and Gaz who look away to finish up their bandages. You know you’ve screwed up. Time to pay the price. Except you pay for it in a whole new way.

Graves opens the door and sees you. He looks relieved.

“Officer l/n. Well done.” He says approvingly. “You’re all under arrest.”

“Graves what the fuck?!” Soap barks, getting to his feet. You see more cops shuffling in behind Graves. You get between Graves and Soap.

“Soap leave it!” You tell him.

“You have some nerve Graves.” Price says.

Alejandro says something in Spanish again, as an officer approaches each one of your friends. Simon doesn’t put up a fight. He knows there’s risk in fighting back when they’re all injured, and while they had weapons, there didn’t need to be more blood shed.

“You did really good kid. Your dad would be proud.” Graves said patting you on the shoulder, raising his voice a little so everyone in the room can hear.

“What?” You ask.

“Seriously I don’t think even your dad could pull an undercover case like so well. Impressive.” Graves continues.

Soap looks at you with a look of anger and betrayal.

“You little shit.” Johnny says, looking you dead in the eyes. No. There was no way. What the fuck. You don’t know what to say. Before Johnny can do anything, he’s pinned to the closest wall and put in handcuffs. Kyle raises his hands, and Rudolfo is helped up. Alejandro is ignoring the Miranda rights and continuing to tell them off in Spanish. All you can do is stand there with Graves gently nudging you around so everyone can be escorted out. You stare at the ground unable to face anyone. You don’t know how to feel. You’re upset your friends are being arrested, you’re worried about what will happen to them, you’re pissed at Graves for what ever shit he was pulling, and… you were scared. Once everyone is outside, it’s just you and Graves.

He shuts the door instructing his officers to wait downstairs.

“What the fuck.” You say turning and facing him. Graves looks back at you with a stern expression.

“You did it kid good job.” He says.

“I didn’t do shit! You! This was all you!” You shout.

“Listen to m-“

“No! I’m done. I resigned! I left the force because I finally found something worth doing and the one second I trust you, you turn around a pull this shit!”

“I am trying to hel-“

“No! No you didn’t. If anything you’ve done the exact opposite of what I wanted. I’m not a cop, and I’m not my father! You fucked up and now you’ve pinned it on me.” You say and you leave the room slamming the door closed.

Once you get outside you catch sight of Price before the door is closed on him. It’s a look that haunts you, and is unreadable. A couple of officers come over to congratulate you on an excellent con. You shove past them and leave the scene. You don’t want to be there anymore. You just want to go home. Except you can’t go home. Your home just got piled into cars and taken to the police station.

So you return to your old apartment. You sit on the couch after getting yourself a beer. You don’t know what to do now. You’re pissed off and afraid. But you know there isn’t much you can do.

“You’re not your father.” Those words sting all night.

Graves returns to the police station where he sees a pleased Makarov. He gives a smug look to Makarov striding over to stand next to him.

“Officer Graves. Well done.” Makarov says with praise.

“Wish I could take the glory, but not me.” Graves says watching the 141 be taken to the holding cells. Makarov glances at Graves.

“Unfortunately we lost a few good officers thanks to undercover work… but I don’t think I need to tell you that.” Graves says giving Makarov a friendly nudge, before checking his watch.

“I better get going. I haven’t eaten anything all night, need to run a couple errands.”

“Who is responsible for bringing them in?” Makarov asks.

“Heh, believe it or not, the officer who resigned. Kid can do a long con.” Graves says, before leaving the station. Makarov looks toward the holding cells. A bit of time and it would hardly be an issue. This kid would certainly be an issue, but something to worry about later.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666

[julieverne]

Five times Maura nearly kissed Jane but didn't (and one time she did)

One.

Maura helped Jane back to her feet. She'd slid home on her hip, and she rubbed it now with a wince, even as she celebrated her home run. Her face was filthy, and so was her outfit. She hobbled back to the bleachers to sit out the rest of the game, jumping to her feet to cheer on her teammates at what she considered particularly crucial moments.

Jane didn't shower in the park. She'd go home in her outfit - uniform, whatever, Maura never knew what to call Jane's outfits - and then she'd lounge on the couch in her shorts and her legs over Maura's lap, lovely bare legs, warm and brown and completely unaware of Maura's hands smoothing over them. Maura packed up early, anticipating the groan Jane made when she stood, her muscles locked up and aching from impact with the ground. She slung Jane's arm over her shoulders and let Jane lean on her as she led her to the car. They'd come together. Maura was staggered by the intimacy of their lives, how firmly they were entangled. If they ever fought, Maura would lose more than the half a husband would have taken from her. She'd lose almost everything. Her hand gripped tighter on Jane's waist, keeping her close.

---

Steam slowly huffed from the bathroom, followed by Jane's anxious face.

"Can you come look at this?"

Maura wanted to joke that she's seen Jane's ass before, but hope springs eternal or so they say, so she gets to her feet, Jo whining as she displaced her from her lap. Jane had a towel wrapped around parts of her. Not really enough parts, but some parts. Maura flushed purely from the steam in the over-warm bathroom. Nothing else.

"Can you clean this out for me?" Jane asked. Her ass was already bruising, Maura could tell. She could see. She could see Jane's ass. She shook her head, finding an indulgent smile on Jane's face when she met her eyes. Jane was pointing at a wound on her face that had previously been covered with dirt.

Maura nodded and took the offered qtip. She leaned Jane back against the counter and tilted her face back to the light. Jane's towel brushed against Maura as she dipped the qtip in antiseptic, then dropped down, trapped between their hips where Maura leaned against Jane to reach up to her face. Jane didn't reach for it. Maura didn't either; she was too focused on the scratch on Jane's face. She dipped tweezers in the antiseptic as well, then pulled out a little dirt and gravel. Jane's hands had been resting on the counter behind her, but now they reached for Maura's hips, squeezing a little as she dug into the wound.

"Do you think I need stitches?" Jane asked, her breath brushing across Maura's cheek. She chewed gum when she played ball; she claimed it brought her luck. She smelled fresh and clean from the shower, the lavender soaps she used, her breath a cinnamon cloud. Maura took a moment to parse the question, no less because she'd pulled away a little and now she could see more of - more of Jane.

"You'll live," Maura chuckled. She examined the graze again, then decided it was clean enough. She doused it again with antiseptic and dug out a band-aid from the cabinet behind Jane, leaning across her, their bodies pressing together, Jane's hard nipples pressing into Maura's chest. She unwrapped the bandage without looking at Jane until Jane's forefinger tilted Maura's chin up to look at her.

"Aren't you going to kiss it better?" Jane asked, her voice a little challenging, a little defensive. Her shoulders had stiffened, along with her nipples. She looked uncomfortable for having asked. Maura grasped Jane's chin and tilted it down, getting on her toes to kiss Jane's cheek next to the wound. She pulled away, aware of how close Jane's lips were, aware Jane's face had turned to hers a little so they were even closer now. She only had to lean forward just a little and she'd be kissing Jane. On the mouth. The way a woman kissed someone she was romantically or sexually interested in. The moment lasted a little longer than it should have, driven by indecision. Maura's heart beat erratically, causing her some concern. She could feel Jane's hands on her hips, Jane's sweet breath on her cheek, across her lips, inside her own mouth. She moved closer, just a little, and Jane didn't move away.

Normally Jane would be saying something sarcastic, something to dispell the tension between them, but today she was silent. Waiting. She'd moved closer again, too. Maura let her nose brush Jane's nose and cheek, then she caught her breath and her lip with her teeth as she pulled away, aware of the solid warmth of Jane's pelvis pressed against her, aware of Jane's bare breasts brushing her arm. Jane's exhale was thready and broken, her hands unsteady.

"All better," Maura said, swallowing against a thickness in her throat at the way Jane stared at her mouth as she spoke.

"Not quite," Jane said, catching her breath as well, pulling a shirt over her head and some pants on under the towel. Maura stepped back and hung the towel back up for her. Jane took a jar of tiger balm from the cabinet and offered it to Maura. "I'm going to need you to rub that into my bruises, Doctor Isles," Jane said, a little smirk on her face. Maura rolled her eyes, but later, with Jane strewn over her lap and her ass accessible and smelling softly of cinnamon, Maura couldn't ask for anything more.