#i’m gonna get the hang of medicating myself i swear it i fucking swear it

[star-crossed-lizards]

adderall uses:

- accomplish tasks that are pertinent to my survival during the day ❌

- get more pissed off than usual while driving ✅

- stay up until the crack of dawn reorganizing my home screen✅

- laser focus better than i have on any video that actually interests me for the past year on a shitty youtube video that i don’t care about for over an hour✅

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 18: Not Falling

Author's Note

Word count:

Read the rest here!

TW: This chapter contains mentions of suicidal ideation. I've put the paragraphs containing that content in red.

His footsteps sound sober, but he immediately brushes his teeth before doing anything else which sparks suspicion. You won’t be able to smell it on his breath now. Concerned, you open your door just wide enough to lean against the frame and watch him. Damiano breathalyzes himself, rubs his face roughly, and crouches down on the floor in distress. Once he lowers his hands from his face, you can see how distraught he is and your stomach drops.

You walk into the bathroom to check if Dami had done a drug test. It was set in the normal place, on the lid of the toilet. So far everything was negative, which didn’t mean shit. It took heroin several hours to show up. You couldn’t afford to stay up half the night with work in the morning. Of course that didn’t matter, since you wouldn’t be able to sleep without the certainty that he hadn’t used. 

“If you took something we need to go to the hospital right now.”

“I didn’t take anything,” he responds, sounding utterly defeated. 

“Even if you tested your drugs, you can’t be sure. I’m not comfortable watching you. I want someone with a medical degree doing that and they can take blood to get more information.”

“I didn’t take anything!” he shouts. 

“Do not yell at me,” you snap. “Don’t you fucking dare yell at me right now.” He hangs his head in shame. You check the breathalyzer for the most recent results. The screen reads 0.073. Driving in Italy with a blood alcohol greater than 0.05 was illegal.

“You could have been arrested.”

“Barely.”

“This is no ‘barely’ with being arrested. Either you get booked in and have your mugshot on the front page of the tabloids in the morning or you don’t. It is an either/or situation. Tell me what you took.”

“Fucking nothing! The only thing that's gonna come up positive on that test is marijuana and we already agreed that was fine. I swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t do heroin or coke or anything else. Just booze!” Everything in you wanted to trust him and everything in you knew never to believe an addict. But he had taken the drug test. He wasn’t trying to conceal anything after all.

“I guess we’ll know in the morning.” Damiano scoffs and shakes his head, which nearly makes you lose it. “What the hell happened?”

“I – the weed was pretty strong and everyone kept saying how high they were and I was just like…” He stares at the ceiling. “How is this enough for all of you? I felt so alone and I just fucking craving something stronger. Being at a party without drugs and alcohol for the first time in forever was way more triggering and impossible than I thought it would be. It was too soon.”

“Where's your phone?”

“Take it.” He pulls his iPhone from his pocket and hands it over. “You can have my keys, too. I don’t want any temptation.” Based on his messages, it doesn’t look like Damiano contacted a dealer, but he could have deleted those texts. You put both in the safe for the night and try to calm down.

“I’ll leave them on the table when I go to work. If there's an emergency just come use my phone. Now you’re sure you didn’t use because –”

“I promised I’d tell you and I’m keeping that promise. I know you don’t believe me now, but you will when that drug test comes back.” He stands up and gets a sparkling water from the fridge. “I’m such a piece of shit. Should just do you a favor and throw myself off the roof.” Damiano mutters the second sentence under his breath, but you still hear. Time stops.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” 

“How could you say something like that!?”

“Because I’m a piece of shit.”

“You had a setback.”

“Because I’m a fucking piece of shit.” His eyes water.

“Because you’re a fallible human being and an alcoholic.” Damiano sets his jaw and refuses to meet your eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“I…had a beer so I’d stop craving the harder stuff. Seth and I got into a really ugly fight about it. Pretty sure he almost took a swing at me.” He shakes his head and takes a swig of the sparkling water. “He stormed out and then I did some shots with a couple guys I don't really know. The taste of the liquor was just…” Dami nearly gags then scowls in disgust. “It brought back so many horrible, messed up memories that I just regretted the whole thing. I got it out of my system so I wouldn’t feel buzzed and left before I did something even stupider. That's why I brushed my teeth. I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

“I appreciate your honesty more than you know.” He’s completely drowning in self-loathing and you’re not sure what to do about it. Should you do anything about it? Maybe this was a natural consequence that would deter him from drinking in the future. Or maybe it would drive him to use more harmful coping mechanisms.  

“I don't know where to go from here,” you admit.

“Can I still sleep here tonight?”

“Yes, of course! This is still your home. I –” Damiano squeezes his eyes shut and a few tears fall. “I’m disappointed, but I love you.” He goes back to shaking his head, this time so hard you worry about his neck.

“Don’t deserve that.”

“Fine. You want anger?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you leave the minute you started craving hard drugs? Why didn’t you tell Seth? Call me? Call an Uber? Something else!? Clearly, you were looking for an excuse to drink.”

“Fine, I was!”

“So is that how you operate? Are you going to go through life, looking for an excuse to relapse, and take it whenever you can? Because that is not sobriety!”

“Maybe I’m not strong enough!”

“Well, tough shit, you have to be if you want me.”

“I wish I didn’t!” That one stings.

“What, so you could just do drugs in peace? Overdose and join the 27 club of tragic rock stars with endless potential who were too tortured to exist. If you’re still idealizing that, then maybe you are a fucking stupid as you say. Maybe you are as selfish as you’re afraid of being because I am not the only person that loves you.”

“I am a selfish piece of shit!”

“Yeah and you’re a lot of other things, too! Is none of that as good as the drugs?”

“I don’t know! I’m exhausted with waking up everyday, wanting to do coke, and feeling like I can’t tell you because you’ll get scared.”

“Of you ending up in a coma? Yeah, thats fucking terrifying and I get to be traumatized. You should be scared, too!”

“I am! I’m scared shitless that the cravings are never gonna stop!”

“And you really thought I couldn’t understand being tortured by your own mind? Of obsessing over something until you feel sick? You really thought that wasn’t within my capacity? Huh?” Damiano falls silent with wide eyes. “You said you would tell me! You said you weren’t afraid of my emotions!”

“I’m not afraid of your emotions.”

“Okay, then what the fuck? Because in a shocking turn of events, undermining the severity of your addiction has made you feel so isolated that you end up drinking. Not like that's ever happened before. Oh, wait, yes it has!”

“Congratulations on being right about me.”

“‘Congratulations?’ How about condolences? You said you would really try to stay sober. You said you would be open with me. Those are my –”

“– Conditions, yes I know,” he groans and harshly rubs his face again.

“So are you done trying?” Your hands shake so violently that you ball them into fists.

“No! I want our life.”

“But you wish you didn’t?”

“I’m a fucking addict, y/n.” He stares at you harshly. “Of course I want to drown my sorrows in drugs without being disturbed by my conscience. Because that's easy! If I try to have a life then, yeah, the happiness is more profound, but I also risk hurting people I really love. So yes, sometimes I wish the only thing I loved was drugs so I didn’t have to feel this.” He gestures between your bodies then claws at his throat. 

“Too fucking bad. Tell me what the cravings were like tonight.”

“I was afraid I was gonna hit someone on the way home because I couldn’t think about anything but getting high, even while driving. Then I hoped that I would get in a car crash because they’d give me morphine at the hospital. And if I was permanently injured, no one could get mad at me for taking pain meds. I’d have a built in excuse. I fantasized about being permanently disabled so I could get high and, for a moment, I even considered driving into a street light to achieve that. Happy?” The initial reaction is fear so chilling it turns your blood to ice water. Could Dami be trusted to drive himself places? 

“Tell me the worst of it,” you persevere with gritted teeth.

“Worse than fantasizing about causing a traffic accident to get drugs? Fine. I went to see my grandmother just to steal the pain meds for her hip surgery from her bathroom cabinet. When she told the pharmacy she’d lost them, they wouldn’t give her new ones and I kept them anyway, knowing she’d be in excruciating pain. My own grandmother. She took so much ibuprofen it gave her a stomach ulcer and I actually googled what kind of pain meds they prescribe for stomach ulcers.” You’d read a similar story by a former heroin addict online. The family had assumed the grandfather had memory problems and had him evaluated for dementia.

“Okay.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Not at all.” You take a deep breath.

“Why not?” he spits venomously.

“Because what you do as an addict is not representative of who you are.”

“But I am selfish and stupid?” He tries to turn those words back around to make you the villain in this circumstance.

“Right now? Yes, absolutely and if you’re feeling suicidal you need to tell me that as well. Like, right the fuck now.”

“I’m not going to kill myself over a beer and a couple shots of whiskey, y/n.” The way he rolls his eyes and dismisses you is bordering on an attitude Damiano swore never to take again.

“You say that like relapse isn’t a valid reason to be suicidal. I don’t care whether or not you think it's enough to warrant whatever you're feeling.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

“It means that if you don’t want to live, there isn’t a reason small enough that I wouldn’t take that seriously! If you feel like being alive isn’t worth it then…we need to do something about it.”

“I'm fine.” He brushes you off and turns away.

“Because I will not lose you! If that means inpatient psych treatment then –”

“I am fucking done with inpatient!”

“Then I will drag into treatment by your ear. I will sleep in a hospital chair outside the  door. I will find people and things that will make you feel okay again.” Dami clears his throat and wipes away tears, not quite subtle enough. Finally, something had given him pause.

“I hate myself, but I am not suicidal. I swear.”

“Okay.” Without rage or hypervigilance to keep you upright, you end up sliding down the wall, onto the floor.

“I’m sorry. This won’t happen again. I’m gonna…I’m gonna talk to my medical team. I have treatment tomorrow.”

“Okay, good.” Your voice cracks and you stare at a wilting basil leaf that had ended up under the counter while Dami was cooking dinner last night. Yesterday was a lifetime away. It was a familiar sensation, when he had a mood swing and you’d fight over something stupid. His moods had been better, you realize.

“I just wanna sleep. It took every molecule of my energy to leave that party and get home.”

“Thank you for coming home.” For the first time, your eyes meet without either party operating on bravado. The pain is so acute that it feels nearly lethal. This was just a reminder of how powerless you were when it came to Dami’s sobriety. He turns away and cuts a chunk of bread from the loaf on the counter. You decide to leave him to make his snack. Nothing was getting resolved tonight, you were both wounded.

Sitting in the bedroom, you read the same two sentences about a dozen times without ever grasping their content while listening to Dami. Everything sounds normal, even though it isn’t. He eats, gets ready for bed, gives Princess a treat. Cheeto recognizes the noisy, plastic bag being opened and looks up expectantly. You listen to each sound, weary of moving too much, since the rustle of the bed sheets might obscure something. If not for his confession, you may have never guessed that he’d relapsed alcohol-wise. Even though it took probably every ounce of his mental fortitude, Damiano had been honest and you’d punished him. 

On one hand, telling you was the bare minimum. Why should he be rewarded for the bare minimum? On the other, doing the right thing didn’t make the right thing easy. You spend some time on the emotional support websites for spouses of addicts, trying to discern if you’d reacted appropriately. At an exponential rate, you run out of patience. Empathy, forgiveness, kindness, understanding, none of it was enough for Damiano. He wanted anger just so he had an excuse to be bitter right back. It was reminiscent of the end of your relationship, when you either blamed yourself for everything and wallowed in self-hatred or blamed Damiano for everything and resented the hell out of him.  

Addicts prayed for a partner like you, someone who’d done the research and loved them unconditionally. Did Dami beg for forgiveness? No. In fact, you couldn’t even remember if he apologized. All his complaining about how he’d never be enough to the face of a woman who was made to feel the same damn way. You’d never have the right reaction, the right thing to say when it came to his vices. Poor, tortured Damiano was the one who had apparently put all this distance between him and his life partner. When all she desperately, deeply wanted to understand him and the plights of addiction. But no. You couldn’t possibly be capable. It was insulting to your intelligence.

  This self-righteous rumination is interrupted by a sound you don’t recognize. Dami was in bed with the lights off. The sound is somewhere between speech and whimpering, so muffled you wonder if you’re hearing it at all. If Princess wanted something she would be louder. You stand up and press your ear to the door. He was crying, which felt like a knife to the heart, but wasn’t necessarily your business. It made sense that he was upset and deserved the space to process that emotion. 

Feeling sick, you try to resume reading when the sound becomes louder. So much so that you can hear it from across the bedroom, through the wall, and across the living room.  According to what was once Damiano’s bedside clock, it’d been four minutes of sobbing. That kind of hysterical crying was only cathartic for a limited amount of time and productive for even less. Around the six minute mark you get both your anger and ego in check, inserting a bookmark. He was absolutely miserable and you ached to do something about it.

“Fuck all,” you mutter, switching off the bedside lamp on your way out of the bedroom. The two nightlights in the living room provide enough visibility for you to climb in bed behind Damiano. You scoot in close and spoon him, an arm across his chest.

“Hey, you are not falling. I’ve got you, okay?” He stops muffling the noise in the pillow and threads his fingers between yours.

“Feels like it,” Dami forces out between sobs.

“I know, but I am not letting you fall. I’ve got you. You are not flailing all the way to epic disaster. I fucking love you and I see that you’re trying and I am not letting you fall.”

“Okay,” he chokes with a painful gasp. “Okay, I’m gonna stop with the waterworks.” 

“By my calculations you have at the very least another 20 minutes ugly crying and eating your own snot, babe.”

“You haven’t called me that in forever.” At first he’s smug but that quickly becomes heartbroken. “Fuck. What the fuck!?” 

“Let me get you something to blow your nose.”

“Wait, no! Come back!” Dami sounds so childlike again. It’s the same way he spoke hours before you’d checked him into rehab.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You reassure him while returning with a box of tissues. He blows his nose as he waits for you to lay back down. Before you can turn sideways, Damiano tucks his head against your neck and tangles your legs together. You wrap your arms around him and just let him sob, laid on your chest. 

“Not falling,” you whisper against his greasy hair. “You are not falling. Your control freak of a girlfriend has an ironclad grip and will stab anyway that tells her to let go.” He nods through the tears which is good. “Stabby, stabby. No more falling.” You squeeze him hard enough to hurt and Dami groans. 

“Oof. Girlfriend? Not nesting partner?” You huff in exacerbation, more towards yourself than Dami.

“Fruedean slip. Speaking of Frued, focus on my titties. Those should make you feel better.” He scoots down several inches to be closer to the asset in question.

“You’re right, they’re wonderful,” Dami sighs and nuzzles enthusiastically. The tears mostly stop, then something makes them start up again. It's what you expected, for the self-loathing and grief to come in waves. It's preferable to hearing him drown in it. Just holding Damiano is also really nice and kinda therapeutic. You can feel your own fear response to this evening’s news become mangable. The fatigue from before he came home returns and you decide not to fight it.

“How bad is it gonna fuck with your head if I fall asleep right now? Being in the same bed is just –” You’re interrupted with a yawn. “Weirdly calming despite the, y’know, crying.”

“I’d love for you to sleep here tonight even though I don’t deserve –”

“No, sleepy,” you whine. 

“I can’t have a self-hatred crisis, you’re too tired?” Some adamant nodding makes Damiano outright laugh. “Fair enough. How about you be the little spoon and I’ll hold you?”

“Mm, yes please.” Without opening your eyes, you reposition, sighing deeply as scoots in snuggly. “We need to cuddle more.” 

“I didn’t know that this was an option.” Something tugs at the edge of your consciousness.

“Wait, are you okay? Because this went from me comforting you to me falling asleep inappropriately.”

“I’m sleepy, too,” hums. Still, something bothers you. There's an insistent voice saying this might be a bad idea, but you decide to tell it to shut up. It felt so right to you and Damiano, both. That was a good reason. It didn’t all have to be intellectualized to hell and back.

“I thought platonic cuddling would be more platonic.” You let out a pretend gasp.

“Is your dick in me and I just don’t feel it?” Dami clutches you close while he snickers. 

“No I just mean –”

“Just because you want to fuck me in this position, doesn’t make it non-platonic to cuddle.”

“Okay, well when you put it like that.” He fusses affectionately: playing with your hair, pulling up the blanket, adjusting the sleeve of your t-shirt. “Thank you for coming out here. Sometimes my emotions are like getting a rib tattoo. I know it’s gonna hurt so bad and for so long that I might not be able to handle it. So I just never start, because I’m too intimidated.” You nod while Dami caresses your ribcage. His heavy, warm hand ends up on your lower stomach and he pulls you back against him. 

“But you got an entire dragon tattoo from armpit to hip bone in one sitting.”

“Which tells you how terrifying my emotions are. I just spent a lot of months only crying when I couldn’t contain it anymore, which was pretty often, and I was just alone and hating myself.”

“Baby, no,” you coo, aching with empathy.

“It's alright, now. I want to be alright.” 

“Damia, that type of anguish leaves a scar. Substance Abuse Disorder is traumatic for the addict, too.”

“I’m going to therapy literally every day, y/n, you don’t need to worry about me processing emotions. Fuck sake, I’m kinda exhausted with examining myself.” 

“Been there.” 

“Yeah.” He speaks kindly and kisses the back of your head. “I know.”

“Right. Because you probably had to talk me through that panic attack.”

“And you had to talk me through my mood swings.”

“You know, if we didn’t have mental illnesses, we would be unstoppable.” He laughs again and it ruffles your hair. “That’s probably why we’re both so fucked in the head.”

“Yeah, without debilitating mental illness we’d be too powerful.”

“That’s the spirit.” He nuzzles and lets out a content hum, hand venturing under your pajama top to rest on your bare stomach.

“Woah there, cowboy.”

“Isn’t this my shirt?”

“And that's your excuse for getting fresh?”  

“Mhm.”

“Explain that logic to me.”

“No, thanks.” This time you’re the one laughing. Dami kisses the back of your head again and a few moments later, lets out a relaxed sigh. The hand on your stomach pulls you closer, fingertips rough with the beginning of calluses. Thomas was teaching him guitar again. Damiano’s body heat seeps through his clothes almost immediately and he feels so solid behind you. You’re glad it's dark, so he can’t see you blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers. It takes your breath away. “Sorry if this is the wrong time to remind you of that. Fuck, it is absolutely the wrong time. God damn it.” You smile and you know he can feel it, because he starts smiling too. “Out of curiosity, which other types of crisis would compel you to hop into bed with me?” You click your tongue in disapproval and lift Dami’s hand while pulling your shirt down, so the embrace is no longer skin on skin. He makes a sound of objection. 

“Hush, you.” 

“Okay, I’ll be quiet.” You fall asleep quickly after that. Eventually, a slumbering Dami gets too hot and turns onto his back. Forgetting there's someone sharing his bed, he kicks the covers off. All the movement after months of sleeping alone brings you about a third of the way to consciousness. One eye fluttering open briefly, you recognize Damiano and follow him instinctively. Both bodies adjust so you can lay comfortably on his chest. This is where you wake, when the bright light of morning rouses you. Dami is used to it and stays asleep, allowing you a few precious minutes to watch him. The harsh slopes of his face, his long, chestnut-brown eye lashes. Months of hard partying and lacking self-care had given him the beginnings of wrinkles on his forehead, but not between his eyebrows. Propped up on an elbow, you run your pointer finger down the bridge of his nose.

“I’m in love with you, also.”

Notes: Aw, yes. Some more light reading with FilthForFriends. Sorry if you weren't prepared for such a heavy chapter, but I'm kinda proud of this one.

-XOXO Eden

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[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[moonbeamwritings]

one missed call

Summary: You were haunted by what happened in Egypt. The loss of your friends and the disconnect from the others that came in the years afterwards weighed heavily on your mind. One night, after a horrible day at work, you find that you received a voicemail from someone you never thought you’d hear from again: Jotaro Kujo.

Author’s Note: This is a little different from what I normally post. A little less fluff, a little more angst. There are very brief mentions of blood, but they’re vague. Let me know what you think!

The second you stepped through your apartment door and closed it, you slumped back with a sigh. “Worst day ever,” you spoke aloud. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag, you collapsed onto your couch, relishing in the silence of your living room.

This time of year was always… difficult, to say the least. Not only were the holidays beyond stressful in and of themselves, but you were reminded, more so than any other time of year, of the loss of your dear friends.

Every night over the past week had graced you with images of gore, the rush of blood and water, and the whirring screech of an ambulance coupled with the muffled voices of Speedwagon Foundation medics, their hushed conversations blaring in your ears despite their quiet tones.

“Noriaki Kakyoin. Time of death approximately-”

You shook the thought from your head, feeling all the more sick to your stomach. Your day at work hadn’t been easy given your current state, but your boss refused reason, seemingly working you harder knowing that you were suffering. You were tired, in more ways than one.

You flicked the television on and disappeared down the hallway. If I’m gonna be upset, you thought, I might as well be comfortable. Tugging a warm, soft sweater over your head and a pair of sweatpants up your legs, you were ready to tackle whatever horrible tv show was on and whatever leftovers you had in the fridge.

You reheated some take-out you’d had over the weekend and dropped back onto the couch, mind slowly shutting down at the sight of a brainless, campy reality tv show on one of the stations. Perfect.

Your position on the couch gave you a clear view of your phone, resting on a small table across the room.

Blink blink. Blink blink.

The green answering machine light was on, which almost never happened. Nobody calls me, you thought curiously. You muted the tv and made your way over to the phone, a funny feeling bubbling in your stomach.

Clicking play, you felt your heart stop in your chest, completely ceasing to beat as it knocked the air from your lungs.

“Hi,” a deep, smooth voice spoke through the phone, “This is Jotaro Kujo. I hope I’ve reached the right number.”

Your mouth fell open as you heard him. It was really him. You hadn’t spoken to Jotaro since you last saw him at the airport in Egypt, 10 years ago. You would scoff if you didn’t miss him so damn much. Back then, he’d looked at you like he had something to say, but it seemed as though he opted to bite his tongue. When Polnareff had pulled you all into a group hug before returning to France, you had a sinking feeling in your chest. DIO had been defeated, sure, but something still didn’t seem right.

You moved on, as they all seemed to. You returned home, you went back to some semblance of normalcy despite the nightmares, the loneliness. You had half a mind to be pissed, to ignore the phone call and to kick Jotaro out of your life for good, dealing with the spiraling thoughts all on your own. You couldn’t do it anymore, though, and that’s what compelled you to hang on to his every word.

“I, um-” There was a pregnant pause, almost so long that you had assumed he hung up, “I hope you’re doing well.” He let out a short laugh. There was no joy in it. “Well, as good as you can be, I guess.”

“I wanted to call to apologize. Leaving you in the dark for so long, letting you live with the grief all on your own, knowing that I was going through the same things. It never sat well with me. The old man said that just telling you what’s been going through my head might help, even if you tell me to fuck off. I know my emotions are nowhere near as obvious as I think they are.”

You felt your heart start to beat again, slowly going faster and faster until it was little more than hammering in your chest.

“Yare yare daze, I guess I just-” Jotaro cut himself off again, a creak in a chair sounded in the background, “I couldn’t handle it. I know it’s a pathetic excuse and I know you must be angry with me. You might not even listen to this message. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.”

How could I not, you thought in silent response.

“I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out, well, until now. You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

You found your brows creasing in confusion.

“I was in love with you back then.” Another mirthless laugh, a beat of silence. “I guess I still am. That’s why I called. Look, I’m sorry for going radio silent, for not reaching out… for everything. I was afraid and I felt like I didn’t deserve you.”

Hot, wet tears began racing down your cheeks and you had to place a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. You closed your eyes as the message played on.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m being selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to see you, if you’ll have me.” The call fell silent again and you could swear you heard Jotaro let out a soft sound, a sniffle followed by a clearing of his throat. When he returned to the phone, you could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I’m sorry. If you get this, give me a call. Bye.”

With the click of the phone, your living room was plunged into silence, save for the sound of your soft cries. You furiously wiped at your tears as they fell, walking back to sit down on the couch to will your heart to just slow down, if only for a minute.

Your mind was reeling, sending your whole world spiraling upside down. All over just one phone call.

He’d been in love with you? Then, and even now?

It was hard to believe, which made the whole situation that much worse. Why now? Why in this way? Had he, too, been thinking about that fateful trip to Egypt all those years ago? Was November and December just as difficult for him as it was for you?

It was painful, dealing with endless thoughts all while fat, salty tears raced down your face, dampening the sleeves of your sweater with every swipe at your eyes. You leaned back against the armrest, losing yourself in the nonexistent patterns decorating your ceiling.

Thinking back now, perhaps all this time spent with no word from him was so upsetting all because you were in love with him. How stupid, you blubbered, to be thrust into such an emotional upheaval all over a boy you’d fallen in love with at 17. It’s not fair.

He hadn’t even called, or tried to. He had ten years to do so and clearly he knew someone who could connect him to you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Speedwagon Foundation’s involvement in all of this. It was frustrating, racing back and forth between anger, sadness, and elation.

You resolved to deal with this mess tomorrow. Maybe sleep will help, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, eager to shut your eyes.

Sleep did not come so easily because of course it didn’t. Echoes of his words rattled in your mind, playing on a loop as if to torment you, to make your nights even more sleepless. 

Before you knew it, the sun was up.

As if to give you some sort of reprieve, you were off from work. A small treat from the universe to say, you can rest, just this once.

You practically dragged your body down the hallway, eyes stinging with a lack of sleep and unshed tears. With breakfast sorted, you sat down to listen to the voicemail again. You weren’t sure if you were just trying to make yourself more upset or if the warm, orange glow of the sun shining through your blinds would bring you some form of clarity.

The second time through did little else but convince you that you needed to talk to Jotaro, no matter how painful it may end up being.

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 17

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: None to note.

Author’s Note: Enjoy this calm chapter before the storm comes lol 

A few days later, Yoongi was still at a total loss when it came to trying to figure out how to tell you the truth.

On one hand, he didn’t want to risk making you upset and ruining your relationship that had been going so well up to this point. Also, he didn’t know how you might end up reacting and he didn’t want to risk potentially being shunned from this pack too, especially after he had made himself at home and really began to feel welcomed.  

On the other hand though, Yoongi knew that you deserved to know and he knew that it would be best if you heard it from Yoongi’s own mouth. Plus, Yoongi knew that if the roles were reversed, he’d want to know if he had been sleeping next to someone who had associations with the person who murdered his parents. 

“Y/N-ah?” Yoongi called out, a soft smile coming on to his face when you stepped into your living room.

“Yeah?” You replied.

“Come here,” Yoongi said, holding his hand out towards you and you paced over to him, placing your hand in his and letting him pull you down so that you were sat on the couch next to him. “I have something that I need to tell you.”

“Ok,” you nodded. “Shoot.”

“It’s kind of hard for me to tell you this, but I know that I should tell you,” he began, pausing to take a deep breath in and out before continuing. “You have to understand though Y/N-ah, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what?” You wondered. “Is everything ok?”

“Kind of, but this is just something that you need to know,” he responded. Just as he opened his mouth to continue, there was a loud knock on your front door. 

“Ignore that,” you said as you gave Yoongi your full attention. 

“Someone’s out there though,” Yoongi huffed. 

“It’s just Jungkook,” you shrugged after taking a quick sniff of the air. “It’s probably nothing important.” Right after those words left your mouth, Jungkook’s knocks became harder and more frantic sounding. 

“It could be important though,” Yoongi pointed out. “Go check.”

“You sure?” You asked as you stood up from the couch. “You sounded like you really had something to say there.”

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” he assured you. “I’m good, go.” Even though you weren’t completely convinced, you walked away from the couch and over to the front door, reaching out and pulling it open to reveal a frazzled looking Jungkook.

“Hey Kook,” you smiled.

“Hyorin’s in labor,” he blurted out in lieu of a proper greeting and your eyes widened. 

“Right now?” You checked. 

“Right now,” Jungkook echoed. “Joon hyung, Hobi hyung, and I were going over security measures and Jimin ran to tell us that she had gone into labor while they were hanging out. Joon hyung ran home to be with her and sent me to come get you.”

“I’m on my way there now,” you nodded. “You better go tell Tae because he’ll be pissed if no one told him.”

“Don’t I know it?” Jungkook chuckled. “I’m going home after this and I’ll tell him once I get there.” After saying goodbye to each other, Jungkook ran off and you shut the front door before jogging down the hallway into your bedroom. 

“What’s going on?” Yoongi wondered.

“Hyo’s in labor,” you shouted back, and Yoongi could hear the sound of you throwing stuff around. 

“That’s exciting,” Yoongi smiled as you walked back into the living room, a large black bag in your hand. 

“Thank God I had the sense of mind to restock this medical bag the other day, so that I don’t have to waste time running to the infirmary,” you sighed before looking over at Yoongi. “You coming?”

“I’m invited?” He shot back with a laugh. 

“Tae’s gonna be there and he’ll need the company while he waits because he won’t leave until the baby is born, I know it,” you giggled. 

“I guess I’ve been convinced,” Yoongi replied with a smile. 

By the time that the two of you pulled on your shoes and jackets, left your cabin, and made it over to Namjoon and Hyorin’s cabin, Taehyung was already there pacing back and forth on their front porch.

“Y/N-ah!” Taehyung exclaimed when he saw you walking up the steps. “We’re about to be an aunt and uncle!”

“I know Tae, I am the one who’s about to deliver the baby,” you pointed out with a smile. Before Taehyung could reply though, the front door swung open and Namjoon stuck his head outside.

“Thank God you’re here,” Namjoon sighed heavily. “She’s in so much pain Y/N-ah.”

“Just calm down, calm down. Now, how far apart are her contractions?” You asked as you stepped inside of the house and Yoongi and Taehyung didn’t hear Namjoon’s answer because he shut the front door again as soon as you had stepped inside. 

“I really wish I could at least be in the house,” Taehyung huffed as he sat down on one of the chairs that was placed on the porch, and Yoongi took the liberty of sitting down in the chair right next to his as well. 

“Your brother would tear you apart if you got too close to his vulnerable mate,” Yoongi told him. 

“Stupid Alpha hormones,” Taehyung spat, making Yoongi laugh. 

“Yeah, they are pretty stupid sometimes,” Yoongi agreed. A few minutes of silence then passed over them before Taehyung spoke up again.

“You know, it’s times like this when I really wish our parents were still here,” Taehyung muttered. 

“That’s completely normal Taehyung,” Yoongi assured him. “It’s a big day.”

“I’ve gotten really good at compartmentalizing them over the years and not thinking about them but it’s days like today that make it hard to do that. Especially when I know that they should be here,” Taehyung added. 

“It’s definitely easier not to think about them if that helps you get through the day, but maybe getting it out can help too,” Yoongi suggested. “How do you think they would react if they were here?”

“Mom would’ve been absolutely over the moon,” Taehyung chuckled. “She probably would’ve been right in there with them, helping to keep Hyo calm. Our mom was really good at that, keeping people calm and reassuring them.”

“That sounds like you,” Yoongi replied and Taehyung just shook his head slightly. 

“I could only hope to be like her someday, and like our father,” Taehyung whispered. “Dad would’ve been so proud, because he always wanted to see the family line continue on.”

“I think all fathers are like that,” Yoongi laughed. “I know mines used to say ‘I want at least three grandchildren out of you, Min Yoongi’,”

“You know, I think our dad would’ve liked you,” Taehyung said, which made Yoongi freeze. “You’re a lot like him.”

“He was Prime, right?”

“Yeah, and it definitely had it’s good and bad sides,” Taehyung joked. “But even forgetting that, you have similar traits. I think that’s why Y/N-ah likes you, but don’t tell her I said that because she’ll do nothing but deny it.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Yoongi muttered, and he couldn’t help but to start to feel even worse for not telling you the truth yet. Hearing what Taehyung said only made Yoongi worry more about how you were going to react when you finally learned the truth. All Yoongi knew was that he needed to tell you soon, because the last thing that he wanted to do was hurt you more than you were already going to be.

.................................

After an hour and a half of waiting, Taehyung and Yoongi were still sitting on the porch together.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” Taehyung groaned loudly.

“Taehyung, she’s having a baby,” Yoongi laughed. “They don’t just pop out.”

“Thank God I can’t have kids myself, I wouldn’t have the patience,” Taehyung huffed.

“Or be able to handle the pain,” Yoongi added.

“That too,” Taehyung nodded. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Yoongi wondered. “Having a pup?”

“Of course I do,” Taehyung admitted. “Thankfully though, there are always female omegas who are willing to help couples like me and Kook have pups. I want at least two, one that’ll be half of Kook and one that’ll be half of me.”

“That’s good,” Yoongi smiled. 

“What about you hyung?” Taehyung flipped the question. “Do you want pups?”

“Are you asking me if I want pups in general, or specifically with your sister?” Yoongi questioned. 

“Whichever you feel like answering,” Taehyung smirked knowingly. Just as Yoongi opened his mouth to reply, the front door opened and you stepped out onto the porch.

“Y/N-ah!” Taehyung exclaimed as he hurriedly stood up and rushed over to you. “How’d it go?! Is Hyo ok?! Is the baby ok?! Did Joon hyung faint?! I knew he probably would!” 

“Tae, calm down,” you giggled as you reached out and set your hands on his shoulders. “Hyo is just fine, she did beautifully and no, Joon didn’t faint which actually surprised me. And the babies are fine, both of them.”

“B-both of them?” Taehyung gasp.

“Come and meet your nieces,” you smiled giddily. 

.................................

“Ok, not to be biased or anything, but they are the cutest babies I’ve ever seen in my life,” Taehyung cooed as he held one of the girls in his arms. Hyorin and Namjoon were seated next to each other on their bed, Hyorin holding their other daughter in her arms. Yoongi hung back by the door in order not to get his scent too close to the babies since he wasn’t family, and you were shuffling around the room straightening things up from the delivery.

“You’re definitely biased, but you’re also not wrong,” Namjoon chuckled. “They’re gorgeous.”

“What are their names?” Yoongi asked. 

“The one that Tae is holding is the oldest and her name is Mi-ra, after their mom and the girls’ grandma,” Hyorin said as she looked over at Taehyung.

“And this little surprise,” Namjoon whispered as he reached over and let their daughter that Hyorin was holding grab onto his finger. “This is Sena, our youngest.”

“I can’t believe that you were having twins and didn’t tell anyone,” Taehyung huffed. 

“I didn’t know either,” Hyorin laughed. “I swear, I never felt more than one set of hands or feet moving around at a time throughout my pregnancy.”

“And I never saw more than one baby during the ultrasounds,” you spoke up. “The youngest one was hiding behind her sister the entire pregnancy.”

“Imagine how freaked out we were when Y/N delivered Mi-ra and then said that there was another baby,” Namjoon sighed.

“I was just pissed that I had to keep pushing,” Hyorin joked, making everyone laugh. 

“I guess we’re gonna have to get started on another crib for you guys then,” Yoongi smiled and Hyorin nodded thankfully at him. 

“If you could,” she grinned bashfully. 

“Hey Y/N-ah,” Namjoon called out to you, making you stop and look at him. “Did you bring the stuff to do the test?”

“What test?” Taehyung questioned. 

“Some Beta doctors in Seoul have been working on testing that would help predict someone’s subgender before they present,” you explained. “Kind of like how an ultrasound reveals their primary gender.”

“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Yoongi said.

“It’s a new thing,” you smiled at him. “It’s only been developed within the last few years and it’s only been shown to be about 78%, 79% accurate.”

“Joon and I thought it might be fun just to see,” Hyorin shrugged. 

“I can still do it,” you told her. “I have the liquids here with me.” Namjoon and Hyorin looked at each other for a few seconds before they both turned and nodded their heads at you. Moving over to your bag, you took out a small bottle of liquid and a dropper before stepping over to where Taehyung was holding Mi-ra. 

“How does it work?” Taehyung wondered as you unscrewed the cap on the bottle and then stuck the dropper inside, sucking up some of the liquid before removing it.

“I just place a small amount on her scent gland and whatever color the liquid turns corresponds to what her subgender might be,” you said as you gently took a hold of Mi-ra’s hand, turning it over so that her little wrist was facing upwards before squeezing a tiny dot onto her skin. The clear liquid seemed to melt onto her skin before turning a dark brown color.

“Probably an Alpha,” you announced. “Typical of first borns in this family.”

“Wow,” Namjoon murmured excitedly. You then moved over to the bed where Hyorin had already pried Sena’s hand away from Namjoon’s and turned her wrist over for you. You followed the same steps, letting a small amount of the liquid drop onto her wrist and you were shocked when you saw the color turn white. 

“What?” Hyorin prompted you when she saw your reaction.

“She’s probably a Beta,” you chuckled in disbelief. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung gasped loudly. “That’s so fucking cool!”

“Tae, calm down,” Namjoon chastised him with a smile. “The test isn’t 100% accurate.”

“Joon’s right,” you nodded. “The test could be wrong and it also doesn’t tell us if one or the both of them are Prime or not, which is a good possibility given our family line. The only way we’ll know for sure is when they’re old enough to present.”

“But still, it’ll be so cool not being the only Beta anymore,” Taehyung squealed. 

“A hidden twin and will probably end up being the first Beta in the pack in years,” Yoongi summed up. “Seems like little Sena has a lot to live up to.”

“That she does,” Hyorin cooed as she looked down at Sena, who was yawning widely now. “Our extra little miracle.”

Suddenly, there was a loud clang that sounded like the front door and before you knew it, Hobi was poking his head into the bedroom.

“Hey, get out,” you moved over to shoo him away. “The babies are still too new for you to bring your scent around them.”

“Babies? As in more than one?” Hobi gasped before shaking his head and looking past you to Namjoon. “Regardless, it’s an emergency.” 

“Whatever it is can wait a day or two,” Namjoon told him. “My children were just born Seok-ah, so I’m sure Tae or Y/N can handle things in the meantime.”

“I do recognize that but I also hope that you realize that I wouldn’t have even come here if it weren’t vitally important,” Hobi pointed out. 

“Joon,” Hyorin spoke up, making him look over at her. “Go ahead.”

“But you and the babies.”

“We’re fine,” Hyorin said. “Y/N-ah is here for me just in case, I got Sena, and I doubt Tae is gonna let go of Mi-ra anytime soon.”

“Got that right,” Taehyung confirmed. 

“Go,” she repeated. After hesitating for a few more seconds, Namjoon got up off of the bed and walked over to the door where you, Hobi, and Yoongi were standing. 

“What’s going on?”

“Seo-hyun’s pack just breached our territory and they’re headed this way,” Hobi revealed, making yours, Namjoon’s, and Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Now.”

.................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit

[kpopinesss]

[ateez] S A N ➱ baby daddy au

YOU HAVE TO RAISE HIS SON AFTER HE LEAVES. MAFIA SAN.

warnings: teen pregnancy

a/n: sorry ya’ll I accidentally posted this on my main lol - @atinybitofau

• raising a son on your own was hard.

• raising a son whose genes were on par to his notorious father was even harder—

• a hooligan. a mischievous troublemaker.

• an eyesore in morality.

• and yes, your son was just like him.

• cold. ruthless. blood thirsty.

• but unlike San, your son loved you enough never to leave you.

• appreciated the things you did for him enough to stay.

• “Eomma..”

• you turn on your side when your son interrupts your slumber,

• injuries blatant on his tethered arm.

• raising a child who’s now 13 since you were 16 never easy.

• “Where were you, Ari?”

• he sits at the edge of your bed and leans for the warmth only a mother could give. “I was trying to get your medicine.. but I ended up causing a scene and the store owner kicked me out.”

• you sigh letting him lay down beside you. “It’s just a little cold. You don’t need to go and risk your life to save mine.”

• he wants to ask you.

• he’s old enough..

• why hasn’t his father came back to be the one the take care of you?

• to take care of him.

• why do you have to suffer alone?

• “Ari, just do me a favor and take care of yourself the way you do for me.” you cuddle into your sons warmth too. “That’s all I need.”

• but you’re lying.

• you’re getting sicker.

• and he can’t take it anymore.

• he goes to lower than the low to find something to save you, his mother.

• eventually ending up tied up in San’s gang house.

• brutally beat for intervening a drug heist—

• “Alright you little shit,” San holds your son up by the collar, blood running down his face mixed with his tears. “I don’t care that you’re 13 years old. Hell you could’ve been 10 and I’ll still beat the living crap out of you. No one just comes barging into a drug heist for no reason. That’s not just a coincidence.”

• it is.

• it really is.

• and maybe god was just giving him a sign.

• because you were on the verge of dying—

• and his own son being dealt his life and in the hands of his own father,

• yet San still didn’t know what was going on.

• what sign god was trying to give him.

• “I have to admit.” San runs a finger down his son’s chiseled jaw and smirks. “You’ve got a nice face. But in a couple minutes, you might not even be able to recognize it anymore.”

• “I-I-I was just trying to get medicine for my mom! I swear.”

• San really needed to get a clue.

• not all drugs were recreational.

• and some—

• some can actually save lives not just make dirty money.

• “You think I’ll believe that sissy crap?”

• Ari shudders looking to his torn up jeans. “H-her pictures in my wallet. I swear, she’s the only thing I’ll do anything illegal for. I promise I wasn’t trying to fuck anything up. She’d kill me if I got involved. Kill herself if I pushed myself too far.”

• he’s convinced at the desperation in the poor kid’s voice.

• normally not as merciful but he digs through the kid’s pocket for the picture anyway.

• and he should be glad he did because shit—

• the picture of you made him go from 100 to 0 real quick.

• “Y/n?”

• “T-that’s her! That’s my mom.”

• San glances up at the beat up kid, horrified.

• horrified at the sight.

• that he was basically beating to death a walking replica of himself.

• an age far enough that fit the time he left you.

• “You’re telling me my high school sweetheart..” San’s bloody fingers curl around your picture. “The woman you’ve been trying to steal medication for is your mom? The woman in this picture.”

• he’s at first in denial.

• that the kid he almost beat to death was your son.

• but denial hits him even harder the chances he could also be the father.

• “M-my mom is everything to me.” Ari bawls his last tears out begging for his own father to spare his life. or anything to save yours. “She’s only got me. I’ve only got her. S-sir please. At least save her. If you wanna kill me sir, please save my mom first.”

• his jaw clenches,

• still knealt down on one knee propped in front of his pleading son.

• studying every feature of his face.

• how on par everything was to his own.

• San was beating up his son, he realized.

• holy shit he was about to kill his own son.

• “Why didn’t she tell me?”

• “W-what?” his son chokes. “What do you mean?”

• “Fucking hell— kid, I think I’m your dad.”

• the five days that your son was held captive was long enough for your body to grow cold and weaker.

• laying in a hospital bed nearly blacked out.

• your son cries over your body as you sleep.

• hoping he’s not too late.

• not too late to give you the one thing that might be able to keep you alive.

• a husband?

• finally a father to your child.

• “You’re the husband?” the doctor finds San watching from the doorway awkwardly glancing at the black dressed men who towered behind him. “You’ve got quite the entourage there, sir. But not even an army of soldiers would be able to save your wife right now. She’s hanging on a thin line. Barely holding on. That woman needs a miracle if she wants to live the next good years of her life.”

• San watches as his son that he never knew about cries over you.

• wishes you would’ve told him..

• he would’ve stayed.

• would’ve loved you.

• why were you always so selfish? always wanting to do things that pushed you too far even if there were another option available.

• “Eomma.”

• you hear everything.

• your son.

• San.

• “Ma, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get the medicine. I got into trouble again, ma. I’m sorry.” Ari folds his hand over your limp one’s. “B-but I have something even better. Someone who could help you and me. He can take care of us, ma.”

• it hurts.

• you want to wake up for your son because he deserves the world.

• he deserves a fight for the both of you but the option you chose came short.

• in the past, the option of never telling San in the first place of his own son.

• “Ma.. he’s gonna talk to you okay? I’m gonna let him talk to you.” Ari sniffles and suddenly your hand gets replaced with a different warmth. “He’s gonna tell you it’s gonna be okay. I love you, eomma. I love you. We’re gonna be okay.”

• it’s almost enough.

• your heart beats a little faster.

• burns a little more so you could breathe on your own.

• it’s definitely working.

• “You shoulda told me, bubba.”

• the nickname San had given you years ago,

• a nickname you thought you’d never hear again, rings in your ear and that light so far away,

• it gets further.

• “You shoulda told me about him. About you.” he lifts your hand against his trembling lips. “13 years? 13 years after I tell you to take care of yourself and now you’re almost dying. Come on now. My girl was a fighter. Pushed herself harder than she wanted to.”

• his voice is like a mantra—

• a dream that gives you a little bit more of life you we’re starting to lose.

• “Bubba, you were the love of my life. And I didn’t tell you enough how much I appreciated you. I know it may be too late and if god forbid I do lose you, I will make sure our baby stays safe okay?”

• you think if you were awake right now you’d be crying.

• as if a weight lifted off your shoulders.

• cause the one person who could save you right now—you and your son,

• was right here.

• ready to go merciless to keep you two safe.

• “I left loving you. And I’ll come back loving you. 13 years only kept us apart. But let me tell you, y/n, it never stopped me from loving you.”

• he’s unsure when he lets go of your hand.

• usually gets what he wants with one word—

• cause he’s a notorious mobster.

• but let’s just say you were the one thing he wanted he could’ve never gotten even with two words.

• 3?

• “I love you.” he continues. “And if I’m gonna have to love our son the way I should’ve loved you then so be it.”

• but life’s not like movies where you wake up right during a miracle.

• this miracle takes time.

• and after an EXPENSIVE deal of money and medicine to keep you alive,

• a year it takes for you to finally open your eyes.

• to a nice hospital bed room.

• filled with flowers and the reminiscent scent of old spice and San.

• your hair’s a bit longer.

• the sun’s definitely brighter.

• but not as bright as the smile you see once you turn to the side.

• “Good morning beautiful.” San reaches his forehead against yours. “How were your dreams?”

• you choke on a decent reply. “S-San?”

• “The one and only.”

• “Where’s— Where’s Ari? Where’s my—“

• “Our?” San chuckles softly. “You mean our son.”

• you kind of remember.

• it takes a while to remember the voices and the dreams in your head.

• how waking up to find them real was surreal on its own.

• “He’s at school, bubba.” San cradles your face in the palm of his hand staring at you like he was hypnotized. “I’ll have someone pick him up. Tell him mommy’s awake.”

• “San..” you shake your head in his hand. “How is this real?”

• “Our son might be a miracle worker. Brought us together the way we made him. Brought me so I could keep you alive.”

• cheesy as you remember.

• although this handsome and older version of your old flame you aren’t too sure.

• “So you just show up while I’m in a coma and play daddy while I sleep?” you hoarsely chuckle while he smiles against your lips. “Even after 13 years, you won’t grudge against me for not telling you?”

• “I can’t blame you for trying to save yourselves.” he admits with his lips still on yours. “I wasn’t good enough for you. I know still I’m not. But I’m gonna try this time. Even if I have to pretend I’m not who I am sometimes.”

• you two are interrupted by a crying teenager.

• one you remembered resembled San.

• but now them standing right next to each other,

• looking like two carbon copies and a surreal dream in your head.

• maybe you are dead...

• “Ma!” he shoves his father away abruptly. “Look ma! I brought dad! He helped pay your debt, pays for my school. Even finished the hospital bills.”

• you glare at your always boisterous ex boyfriend and long lost father to your son.

• “You did what?”

• “Did I mention this was my way of getting back at you for not telling me about my 14 year old son?”

• “San how the hell am I gonna pay you back?”

• you just woke up.

• and the doctor runs in ready to sedate to keep you stable for at least more than 24 hours.

• but the way San looks at you is enough.

• him being there like your life long medication itself.

• holding your hand while your son holds your other one proposing,

• “Marry me. And we can call it even.”

@atinybitofau

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[poguesrforlife]

Polar Bear Wrestling | JJ Maybank

Hey, what’s up..it’s been a while! Second JJ fic I wrote even though I have an exam tomorrow but yolo am I right? Something like that (exactly that) happened to me last weekend with my friends and I just had to imagine what JJ would’ve done in this scenario. Enjoy! xx

Trigger warning: swearing, blood, angsty (kinda), fluff, and little bit smutty because I can’t help myself

Word count: ~ 2,220 words

You and JJ are just having fun in secret and everything seems smooth sailing until you get hurt at a party and JJ turns into protective™ mode!

You did not know who’s idea it was to throw a kegger in the middle of the week but at this point you were too drunk to care and quite happy about it. 

The chateau’s garden was crowded with people, mostly poques from your school, but also a few kooks and occasional tourons. Some song from the Cure was playing on the speakers and your gaze wandered over the string light adorned garden, drowning it in beautiful colours of the rainbow.

“C’mon Y/N we’re playing beer pong and I need you on my team!” Kie yelled from across the yard where they carried a table outside. 

You were quick to support your best friend, always down for a good drinking game. 

“Who are we playing against?” You scanned the garden looking out for a particular blond surfer dude.

JJ owed you a rematch after the last party where he beat you together with John B. You couldn’t deny that you maybe also just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t flirting with some random girl again. Ever since the two of you started hooking up in secret you started to get more than a little bothered by all the attention he got from other girls. You told yourself that no feelings were involved but sometimes you weren’t so sure.

“Sarah and John B,” Kie waved the couple over to take the other side of the table where she had professionally filled up the cups.

“Rock, paper scissors…winner starts,” John B announced and promptly won the match.

Kie and you sunk one ball after the other into the cups, although most of them unfortunately only hit the rim. Sarah was surprisingly good at the game and you had to down more than you expected. That didn’t really help your already intoxicated state.

Good for you and Kie however, you were even better at beer pong when you were drunk. And at this point you were too drunk to care about anything except winning this match. 

When John B’s ball went way over the table you picked it up and hit your head lightly on the table’s corner. It hurt a bit but you weren’t too bothered by it. You had to win that game and there were only two cups left on the opposing team’s side. 

You concentrated on the furthest cup and with a flick of your wrist the ball cleanly fell into the cup.

“And that’s how you do it!” You screamed and turned to an excitedly jumping Kiara to give her a high five.

However fell the happy expression from her face rather quickly after looking at you and was replaced with wide eyes and an open hanging mouth.

“Fuck! Y/N, you’re bleeding!” Kie exclaimed, already storming towards you and looking out for someone to help.

Your hand went up towards your forehead, where the dull ache was centered, and came away red. Good thing you weren’t one to faint at the sight of blood. 

“Shit,” You swore under your breath and made your way towards the bathroom inside the chateau. 

Kiara was hot on your heals, fussing over you and grabbing Pope on the way inside.

“What did you do?” He asked and immediately went towards the cabinet with the first aid kit. You were glad that you could always trust him to be the rational one. Because Kiara was close to hyperventilating at this point. 

“Kie, it’s gonna be okay. It doesn’t even hurt that bad,” You tried to calm her down while you grabbed some towel and tried to stop the bleeding. 

“It doesn’t look okay!” She pointed out her hands flying towards the reddening towel in your hands. 

“Baby, can you get Y/N some ice?” Pope distracted her while he was preparing some disinfectant.

Kie nodded vigorously, glad to be of service and hurried towards the kitchen.

You let out a relieved sigh and looked towards Pope thankfully, “Thank you. I love her, but sometimes she can be a bit…”

“Overbearing?” He finished for you and gave you a knowing smile. You laughed in agreement and went back to focusing on your little wound. 

“This is going to burn,” Pope warned before pulling the towel away and starting to clean the cut above your eye with a disinfected cotton pad. You hissed at the burning contact and would’ve rather pulled away but you knew it had to be done.

“Doesn’t look like you need any stitches,” Pope analysed as he took a closer look at the cut. At this point you were really glad that Pope invested so much time in his medical future. 

“It doesn't even hurt, I’ll be fine,” You agreed and looked at the towel that was quite red but the wound finally had stopped bleeding.

“I couldn’t find any ice but this will do,” Kiara showed up with a frozen beer can in her hand that had a kitchen towel around it. 

“I’m not gonna walk around all night with a beer can pressed to my head,” You argued and made your way out of the bathroom. You were here to enjoy yourself and this little incident wasn’t going to stop you from doing so.

“If you don’t cool it, you’ll have a black eye tomorrow,” Pope warned but it was clear that you wouldn’t listen to him. He knew his friends pretty well and when it came to you and JJ every rational thought went out the window. The two of you were perfect for each other but also the most trouble anybody could cause. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” You scoffed and picked up one of JJ’s snapbacks that was lying around the kitchen. You loved wearing his hats to get a reaction out of him, mostly that reaction him being annoyed with you for stealing yet another cap.

“See, you don’t even see the bruise like that.” You showed off your new look but Kiara and Pope just rolled their eyes at your carelessness. You grabbed the beer out of Kiara’s hand and opened it instead of holding it against your head.

“Well if you’re not going to listen anyways we might as well win the game,” Kiara threw in and pulled you back outside with a slight smile. 

And you did win graciously as ever, as drunk as ever. 

You were about to get another cold beer inside the empty kitchen when you felt a pair of arms around your waist. 

“I’ve been looking for you all night.” A familiar voice whispered in your ear and you melted against his chest.

“Should’ve looked better,” You mumbled and turned around to be met with JJ’s sky-blue red-rimmed eyes from the weed and alcohol. 

He gave you a sloppy grin and his hands wandered over your backside pulling you closer to him. If it weren’t for all the people and your friends outside who could catch you, you would have fucked him right there and then.

“You look good with my hat,” He stated cheekily and leaned in to give you a peck on the lips, “but I’ll take that back now.”

“JJ, no-“ You tried to stop him, remembering the cut above your eye but it was too late, the hat was off. 

You knew how protective JJ was about his friends but after the two of you started sneaking around it was even more intense than before. You were quite scared about his reaction.

He looked shocked at the cut just below your eyebrow and the already forming bruise there. His jaw clenched when he took a step back from you.

“Who the fuck did this, Y/N?” He seethed and was already making his way towards the door to beat up whoever dared to touch you. You on the other hand hadn’t even thought about JJ assuming that someone hit you.

“What?” You were too confused to move at first but then your reflexes kicked in. “JJ wait!”

You grabbed for his arm but he yanked it away, one foot already out the door. He was furious and you’d never seen him like that before. You tried another time to stop him, yelling his name repeatedly and succeeded with a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t you try and tell me to not get in trouble, Y/N! I don't give a fuck right now. When somebody hurts you, do you really expect me to just stand by and do nothing?” He yelled at you and you could see the desperation in his face as his shaking hands raked through his blonde hair.

“JJ, no one touched me,” You explained in a low voice to calm him down. Some people were staring in your direction. You grabbed his hands in yours, making soothing circles with your thumbs, and led him back inside. “It was an accident, J. I was just drunk and a bit clumsy.”

JJ looked at you with scrunched eyebrows, like he was not really believing you, but you felt his hands relax slowly in your grip.

“What?” He breathed out and let his eyes wander over your left eye repeatedly.

“I tried to pick up a ball while playing beer pong and hit my head,” You told him and sat down on the kitchen table, pulling JJ between your legs. 

“Oh.” JJ’s gaze dropped ashamed at your interlinked hands before he mumbled a “I’m sorry.”

You lifted his chin with one hand and giggled at his pouty expression. “It’s okay Jbae.”

“I don’t know I just assumed…” He stopped mid-sentence to take a deep breath and his hands caressed the wound above your eye carefully.

“You have to be more careful,” He lectured you and pecked the cut slightly.

Butterflies rose in the pit of your stomach at the touch of his lips on your skin. This side of JJ was so new to you. He had always been protective but he had never been this sweet and caring afterwards. You really enjoyed having him all to yourself in these moments.

“And you have to control your temper,” You reminded him and saw the guilty grin on his face immediately.

“Yeah… the combination of both of our flaws together will probably only cause trouble,” He laughed and placed his hands on either side of your body as he leaned in.

“You love my clumsiness,” You argued and locked your arms around his neck. This close you could smell his undeniable JJ scent: cigarettes, weed, the ocean and freshly cut grass. It was intoxicating.

“I do,” He agreed softly and placed a kiss on your jaw which made you gasp lightly. “But let’s just say that you wrestled with a…uhm…what are they called again? Snow-bear?”

You giggled as he struggled for the word while peppering your jaw and neck with kisses. You guessed the adrenaline rush had stopped and the both of you were back to being just a little bit too drunk. 

“A polar bear?” You guessed and looked at his crystal blue eyes for a second.

“Yes!” He exclaimed excitedly, like a little child. “You wrestled with a polar bear and he jabbed at your eye but the bear obviously looks much worse.”

“Obviously!” You nodded and smiled at him. “So…polar bears in Outer Banks?”

“Oh shut up!” He complained and before you could retort anything his lips crashed onto yours.

You pushed into him as your lips moved against his. The kiss was fiery and you gasped slightly as JJ bit your lower lip. You couldn’t contain the moan that escaped you when his tongue entered your mouth. Your hands grabbed strands of his blonde waves while his grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the table. 

“Fuck Y/N!” He groaned as his groin met with the spot between your thighs and attached his mouth to your jaw once again. 

You threw your head back at the feeling and swore under your breath. But when you heard John B screaming from outside you were brought back to reality.

“Fuck JJ,” You pushed him away slightly and he whimpered at the loss of contact. “Not here, not now Jbae,” You reminded him, your hands framing his disappointed face. 

“I hate that fucking rule,” JJ mumbled but brought some distance between you anyways. 

You hated the rule as well, but you knew it was made for a reason. No pogue-on-pogue-macking or you would risk the entire friend group. Even though everybody seemed to have broken it anyways.

“C’mon, let’s get back to the party,” You smiled at him and slipped your hand into his.

“Fine, but I’m not leaving your clumsy side.” He placed his hat back on your head with a smirk and pushed it down a little bit so the bruise wouldn’t be obvious to everybody. 

“Fine by me,” You grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek. “And maybe later we can continue where we left off..”

At the sound of this JJ’s smirk turned into a thousand watt smile as he followed you outside, grabbing your hand a bit tighter. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your whole body as you looked at his gorgeous face and thought about his sweet protective side and what might happen later this evening. This boy would be the death of you.

[fallingappleshurt]

He won then we lost but it’s okay

( I wrote something for the FD!AU made by @antarctic-bay !! I love your AU so it was really fun to write something for it!! And if the original creator doesn’t like this then I’ll delete it!!

And keep in mind this writing isn’t canon!! It’s just a Drabble I wrote in like 6 non-consecutive hours! And I’m sorry for any funky formatting, I wrote this in a google doc then copied it here lmao)

(TW: Swearing and light ‘angst’)

The world moved in slow motion as the ball hit the rim, Tommy held his breath.

It slipped through the rim, the buzzer sounded.

Tommy let out the breath as a scream. He did it, he made the shot, they won.

They won.

He looked up to his brothers, Techno was screaming like a mad man, cheering loudly, “Oh my God! That’s my- that’s my brother! Holy shit!” Wilbur was just as loud, throwing his arms around Techno as they yelled.

And Phil.

He made it.

He stood there with the biggest grin on his face, eyes shining as he cheered. For him.

It was the best feeling.

Then his team was surrounding him, cheering, clapping him on his shoulders, messing up his hair. He was laughing, it was a happy, half- hyperventilating, shriek as a few of his team mates attempted to pick him up.

Soon the crowd was clearing and his brothers were moving onto the court to congratulate him. Techno slung an arm around his shoulder while Wilbur messed up his hair, laughing.

Phil smiled at him, eyes shining with pride.

“Tommy that was amazing, I’m so proud of you!”

Tommy smiled so hard his face hurt.

Techno and Wilbur were listening as Tommy babbled on about the points he scored when Phil went to talk to Coach Pete.

“Since Tommy joined the team he’s been so great, you can almost forget about him being a delinquent!”

The three youngers froze in place, none of them dared move as Phil scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Ever since Tommy joined the team, he’s been fighting much less than before, it’s wonderful.”

“Yes, I guess it is.” Phil turned slowly to look at his younger brothers, who all smiled nervously back.

“Run,” Techno hissed at them.

“Tech’s right, he can’t catch us all.” Wilbur agreed.

“Well, it’s been a long day, I’m sure you guys are tired,” Phil said, throwing an arm around Wilbur’s shoulders, “And we have a few things to discuss, don’t we boys?”

They walked towards the car awkwardly, Techno and Tommy climbed into the backseat while Wilbur and Phil got upfront. Once they started to pull out of the parking lot Phil started;

“What the fuck did he mean?” He asked, looking back sharply at Tommy.

“Well, um, you see, so-” Tommy stammered before looking at Techno, “Help me out a little here!”

“You’re the delinquent dude,” Was all he got.

“Oh my god, you’re useless- anyways, uh, I learned how to fight at Deo’s Dojo, cause people at our school- people at our school really suck, man, they suck and I wanted to be able to defend myself and others, ya know?”

Phil nodded slowly, with an eyebrow raised, “Okay, that still doesn’t explain the ‘delinquent’ thing.”

“He was essentially being a vigilante, since bullying is a big problem at our school, he stops a lot of it.” Techno added, “If it makes you feel better, I checked him over, he was never hurt too badly.”

“So you knew about it?”

Techno’s face dropped slightly, “Uhhhh, there is a great possibility that I did.”

“Wilbur was in on it too!” Tommy blurted out, trying to take some of the heat off Techno.

“What!” Phil ripped his eyes off the road to gape at Wilbur while Wilbur himself whipped around to glare at Tommy,“Seriously?!”

“All three of you were doing this shit?!” Phil snapped, looking back at the road.

“Not the fighting, I just helped figure out who was an asshole, Tommy beat them up, and Techno made sure Tommy was okay afterwards.” Wilbur crossed his arms, looking out the window.

“How- how did you three even manage to pull this off?”

“Wilbur knows a lot of people and was able to get information from them. Techno did medical research to make sure he knew what to do and I practiced a lot, so it just kind of worked.” Tommy mumbled.

Phil just shook his head slightly, “Well, for starters you guys are grounded.”

“Yeah, I saw that coming.” Wilbur shrugged.

“Thanks a lot Tommy,” Techno grumbled,

“What do you mean ‘Thanks a lot Tommy’? You gladly helped me!”

“Not gladly-”

“Fucking lies dude! Lies!”

They continued down the road in silence, tension filled the air, when Tommy noticed Phil’s shoulders start to shake, it took him a minute to realize that Phil was laughing.

It started out as a quiet chuckle that grew into guffawing.They were at a stoplight when it evolved into loud, infectious,cackling, soon they were laughing along with him, nervousness and tension fading away as Phil shoved his face in his hand.

“It’s just,” He broke off laughing, “It’s so stupid, How- how did you even manage to pull this off?” He cackled again before taking a breath, eyes raking over his younger brothers, “You guys are idiots,” He grinned fondly and Tommy sighed, It was a good night.

They had arrived home and Tommy immediately went to shower, once he got out and changed he stepped into his shared room he was greeted by Techno, who was laying upside down on his bed, rolling a fidget cube between his fingers, and Wilbur, who was on the floor, scribbling in a notebook.

“What are you guys doing?”

“We are still feeling kind of bad about the whole, so we wanted to do something for Phil,” Techno explained.

“We are between making a big feast for dinner tomorrow for both you and Phil or some off brand fourth of July thing with possibly illegal firecrackers,” Wilbur said, biting the end of his pencil.

“Definitely the dinner,” Tommy said flatly, flopping down on his bed, exhausted, “We don’t need him more upset with whatever option two was.”

“Yeah, we were leaning towards that.”

“You should have been falling towards it,” Tommy said, throwing his towel on his desk chair.

“Next part is what should we make? I think a whole chicken would-”

“Wait!” Techno shot up suddenly, “Hang on!” He rushed out of the room, tripping over his own feet.

“Could you have an attention span longer than two minutes?” Wilbur called after him, rolling his eyes. A few minutes later Techno came back into the room and slid towards Wilbur on his knees, shoving a dusty box at him.

“What the hell is that?” Tommy asked, rolling over to look at his brothers.

“Are those mom’s old recipes?” Wilbur asked, sitting up.

“Yes! Phil said one of these was his favorite! I don’t exactly remember which one but it’s one of these!” Techno grinned widely, Wilbur flipped through the worn recipes, gaping, “Tech this is perfect!”

“I think his favorite was the chicken parm or something like that.” Tommy said, leaning over the edge of his bed.

“I think he’s right,” Techno agreed.

After twenty minutes of scheming and sorting they had a plan, it was almost perfect when Tommy asked; “Wait, how are we going to get all of the ingredients? We’re grounded!”

“I got it covered,” Wilbur said, pulling out his phone, texting someone, a few moments later he grinned before slipping it back in his pocket.

“My friend is gonna pick up the ingredients for us in the morning and drop them off, so we technically won’t break any rules.”

“This’ll be great! As long as we can pull it off!” Tommy beamed, Techno and Wilbur nodded in agreement. They’d make it up to their brother.

The next morning after Phil headed off to work, Wilbur’s friend showed up with all of the ingredients, after they unloaded it all and Wilbur paid them back, painfully, they were ready to start. Techno started picking up around the apartment more while Wilbur and Tommy prepped the kitchen.

“Tommy do you know how to dice things?”

“Probably,”

“Oh my God, it’s gonna be a long day.”

After a long day of cooking, cleaning, and baking, it was finally done. They had set the table, the food was out, the cake Techno made was chilling in the fridge and most of the dishes were done, all that was left to do was wait.

And that was the worst part.

Ten minutes later and Phil finally walked through the door, shoulders drooping.

“Hey guys,” He greeted weakly, waving at Wilbur in the kitchen. He set down his bag and coat on the couch then looked over at the table to see it fully set, covered in food and his brothers standing next to it with nervous smiles.

“Surprise!” Tommy’s voice was barely stronger than a whisper, he watched as life flooded back into Phil’s eyes.

“What- what is this?” He took a step closer.

“We wanted to celebrate Tommy’s victory and try to make up the whole delinquent, vigilante thing, so we did this,” Tommy explained quietly, “Do you like it?”

“This, guys, this is-” Phil paused, a gentle smile pulled at his lips as he chuckled, “This is amazing.” He wrapped an arm around them, eyes watering;

“I’m so proud of you guys.”

(Why does tumblr not like my italics??)

[fakeloveaskblog]

Hey Remy, its just me, a weird demon snail thing, please do not panic, and make sure you're alone so I can continue with some messages. Before I start, they're both healthy and generally okay, missing you loads still! --- Remus starts: "Please tell them that the planetarium was super cool and sexy but it would have been better with them there. Even if they probs wouldn’t have enjoyed it that much. We could have bought them something nice in the gift shop!" Janus agrees with him. 🐌🕸 -1/4

(u!virgil)

"Hiii girl!" Remy merely glanced up from what they were doing as they said it "Don't worry 'bout Viv hearing. He's at work!! Which means I can work on his like birthday present. His birthday is Dec 19 y'know. I like being early"

They held up an unfinished sleeveless hoodie. It was a patchwork of a bunch of different black and purple fabric that had been left over from his other hoodies.

The pain medication the demon had given them a few days ago had by now completely stopped having any effect. They were back to nearly wincing every time they moved. Back to even the act of breathing putting them in pain. And yet they kept sewing.

"I'm probs not gonna be able to like move my wrists tomorrow cause of my joints being all fucked from sewing but it's worth it" They were forcing a smile "Just gotta remind myself of how happy it's gonna make Viv"

The smile turned genuine when they heard Remus' voice.

"It's cute....they seriously think their like date would have been better if I was there. As if I wouldn't just be all whiny and slow as fuck, like always"

Remy had a dopey smile on their lips as they listened to him. They laid down and turned to the other side of the bed. The side Virgil usually slept on. They reached out and traced their hand over the mattress as Janus rambled about wanting to sleep beside them.

They couldn’t say it, but they wanted that too. Sometimes they thought about the night they had slept over in his bed, after hanging out at Remus’ place. Some nights when they couldn’t sleep they reminded themself of his warmth, his slow breathing, the way he’d held onto them even in his sleep.

“He would be the prettiest little spoon- OH SHit I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Ehm pretend you didn’t hear anything. Ugggg I’m sure the coffee he makes must be amazing! I just get the feeling it’s great!! Ugh Viv would fucking kill me- no kill Jan- if he was hearing me right now. Why do Janny and Rem gotta make my insides turn to goo and make my head all crazy with memories every time I think ‘bout them. This is so stupid and sentimental. I’m feeling like one of those super pining super yearning characters from one of those boring period drama I never watch uhgggg”

Remy let out a snort at your comment. They twirled their har around their finger “Yeah Janny has got it down bad don’t they. Girl I swear it’s like they have ‘lovestruck’ written on their forehead. They wanna kiss me so badly every time they see me it makes them look stupid. I mean like stupid in the tots cute, charming, handsome way y’know”

Being a called a main bitch, a boo and a babe by someone who sounded like the lovechild of a 50 year old chain smoker and a cheese greater shouldn’t be this comforting but goddamnit it was. Remy wanted to just sit near Remus and hear him ramble on for hours about whatever he felt like again. They didn’t even have to cuddle him or anything. They just wanted to be near him. To leave this stupid apartment.

“Omg girl what if Rem liked me as well?? Wouldn’t that be like crazy” They twirled their hair a bit faster “But I mean- He couldn’t like me! It’s Remus! If he liked someone he would be like super obvious about it and blurt it out or something. He don’t seem like he would ever be able to keep a secret even if he tried. So he can’t like me” They let out a small lovestruck sigh “Would be nice though. Then I could kiss his grubby lil face all I want”

Remy laughed at their bickering. They closed their eyes and replayed that part of the message a few times, just so they could at least for a few seconds pretend that they were playing the game with them. They could pretend everything was normal. 

They opened their eyes again and looked at you as you spoke. They let out a deep sigh.

“Thanks gal....you’re right....you really are right....I guess I keep forgetting I’m like 23...like the prime age of self discovery y’know...I just feel like a corpse- so uhm being reminded I don’t gotta stay like this with this like identity all my life uhm helps I guess”

They sat up in bed and checked the time. Virgil got done with work at 6 pm so he should be home soon. They hid the hoodie under the bed before mumbling half to you and half to themself.

“I’ve tried like everything to lessen the dysphoria. He’s gotta get why I wanna get on hormones. Right? Yeah! Yeah I can ask him about it again. I can do this. It’s just Viv. I can do this”

They tried to get into a comfy position to ease the pain even just a little. They held up their hands and tested out moving their fingers. They had to force some of them to move.

After a while they heard the door opening and footsteps quickly going through the living room. Virgil nearly slid into the bedroom. He dropped a plastic bag on the floor before pretty much laying down on top of his partner. He churned his face into their shoulder as they moved their arms around him.

“Remy babey. I missed you”

“You’re getting forklift smell all over me”

“Not the first nor last time!” He let out a “Blergh” Before absolutely drowning their cheeks and neck in quick kisses which made Remy giggle.

“Did you get bit by a zombie at work or something”

“Oh honey if a zombie apocalypse happened I would have shoot myself within a second. The zombies wouldn’t even have a chance. More importantly” He sat up so his legs were leant on each side of Remy’s hips. He took out a small plastic bag from his backpocket. He smirked “Our bestest guy was at work”

“Weed guy!!!”

“Yeah! ANd weed guy got a new guy friend who he told me about. That’s why I was a bit late” He motioned for the bag on the floor “I got you a bag of poppers. It’s like 40 of them. Don’t take them all at once! I think you will actually die”

“New poppers guy yeaah!!!” Remy clapped their hands together to celebrate. For a moment they forgot how fucked up their hands were after sewing all day. Their blood curdling scream surprised even them.

Virgil stared at them before dropping everything he was holding “Are you okay?”

They bit their tongue to hold back a snarky comment about how they Obviously weren’t okay since they weren’t on their meds “....just....joint pain...”

“..Okay. Uhm massage time?”

They nodded. Virgil helped them scoot forward a little so he could sit behind them with his back leant against the wall. He massaged his knuckles against their spine. They winced so he moved his hands. Again and again until they didn’t wince.

“Right there” Remy closed their eyes and relaxed.

Virgil kept massaging there with one hand and moved to take their wrist with his other hand. He pressed a gentle kiss to their wrist before massaging his thumb back and forth.

“Sooo there has to be a reason your hands are especially fucked. Could it be that you’re working on a present?”

Remy let out a long “Pfff”

“I’ll take that as a yes” He moved his thumb up to massage their palm. He leaned in and murmured into their ear “Let me guess....You’re making me...A shit ton of gello”

“Wow. Great guess babe. 10/10″

“Okay lemme try again. You are perfecting the art of giving handjobs”

That made Remy laugh “In your dreams hun”

“Okay okay...” He pressed a kiss to their ear “You’re sewing something aren’t you”

“Shut up! Guessing is over!! Get out! You’re just a clone of Viv! I don’t know you!!”

“Got it didn’t I”

“Shhhhh!!!”

“Alright. I’ll shhh”

He massaged their fingers. It made them wince but it was worth it for the little bit of relief that came afterwards. Remy tried to go over what to say in their head as the minutes went on.

“...uhm...babe?”

“Yeah?” Virgil replied.

“I just...Remember those times I talked to you about getting on hormones? I am still thinkin-”

Remy’s words were cut off as Virgil pressed his nail into their wrist. They let out a scream as tears pressed on at the edges of their eyes. 

Virgil let go after a few seconds but Remy was left gasping for breathe as their vision turned blurry. He stood up and took a step back from the bed.

“You surprised me. I didn’t mean to- Why do you even want hormones anyhow”

They held onto their stale wrist as they turned to him “Virgil I’ve barely eaten for a week because the dysphoria is too fucking overwhelming. I need-”

“Well maybe you’re being selfish!-”

“You’re not even listening to me!”

“No one wants you except for me! Are you really gonna go and maybe ruin the relationship with the only one who wants you for what? For some tits or whatever the fuck hormones does to you”

“That’s not even true! I- I’m not that horrible! I am sure someone else would want me!” 

“Oh like Janus? That fucking creep!? Yeah sure like he would want you for more than a month”

“What the hell is even your deal!?” Remy nearly yelled “Have you never like looked at some I dunno pre hormones trans guy and thought he was pretty even if he looked kinda feminine? Like??? Is it really that simple that you’d magically just stop being into me ‘cause I looked a tiny bit less like a man? Ain’t all that sexuality stuff just a bit more complicated”

“I dunno!! I’m not going around oogling at random trans men!! Why the fuck are You doing that?? Are you talking to someone?” 

He reached for their phone but Remy took it before him and held it away from him.

“You’re a paranoid mess! I’m not talki-”

He grabbed onto their wrist and bent their fingers one by one to take the phone from them. He could hear Remy wince. He could feel them tremble. He still did it. It hurt so bad it actually felt like they were going to pass out.

“If- If you’re not gonna let me get hormones at least let me have my pain meds again. Please” Remy nearly begged.

Virgil wasn’t even looking at them. He was scrolling through their messages. “You’re making up for lying to me remember? You’re gonna get the meds soon enough. I promise”

“It’s my body! You realize that right!? I’m the one who has to be in pain ‘cause of you! I’m the one who has to deal with the dysphoria ‘cause of you! I’m starting to think it’s kind of fucking bullshit you get to decide all this just ‘cause you feel I wronged you or-”

“THEN GO TO THE PHARMACY!” Virgil slammed the phone down into the covers of the bed as he yelled it out “I’M NOT STOPPING YOU! GET THE MEDS OR HORMONES OR WHATEVER!”

“Virgil you Know I can barely walk through the apartment. You can’t expect me to-”

“You can’t expect me to do everything for you all the fucking time! I got you a bag of poppers, aren’t you supposed to be happy over that!? You’re acting like a spoiled child”

Remy grimaced “YOU ACT LIKE THE RELATIONSHIP WILL BE RUINED IF YOU STOP BEING ATTRACTED TO ME. SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE YOU JUST SEE ME AS A BODY OR LIKE A THING YOU CAN USE TO MAKE YOURSELF BE-”

“Oh please you can’t expect everything I say to be thought through and exactly what I mean. Especially when you’re overreacting and yelling and all that. You’re misinterpreting what I say and do to you by choice y’know. Even if you don’t fully realize it you do. You’re gonna get your meds eventua-”

They slammed their hands down into the covers even if it hurt like hell “I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DESERVE THE RIGHT TO MY MEDS! IT’S BULLSHIT. YOU’RE PUTTING ME THROUGH BULLSHIT BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING SELFISH. YOU’RE THE ONE IN THE WRONG!”

Virgil’s hands pressed against their throat. 

Remy flinched away but there was nowhere to go. Their breathe was cut off. There was a look of rage in Virgil’s eyes as he glared at them.

“Shut up”

Remy didn’t even have time to respond before he’d let go. He blinked while staring down at his hands. 

“...i....i didn’t mean to...it just happened...my hands just moved....i promise i didn’t mean to...i wasn’t thinking....you just made me so angry...you were being so unreasonable...you weren’t letting me speak properly...you just made me too angry...i didn’t....i didn’t...”

He took a sharp breathe and looked over to Remy. They were trembling. They wanted to get up and run out of the room but they knew they would most likely pass out if they tried.

“Remy...Babe...Darling...Let’s just get high and not think about this. Let’s just not mention the meds or the hormones again. Okay? You just make me so angry since the...the chronic pain is making you all overemotional and confused. I’ll get you your meds eventually I promise. Just not right now. Just any day now. Let’s just get high okay?”

Remy didn’t want to let it go. They didn’t want to let the meds or the hormones go. But they....they felt genuinely scared. Scared of Virgil. Scared of their boyfriend.

They were too stunned to speak so they just nodded.

“Good. Okay good” Virgil grabbed onto the bag of weed that had been left on the floor. While he leant down he took out a popper and handed it to them. Remy forced their stale fingers to take it and put it up to their nose. They hoped if they got high they would stop flinching at every little motion Virgil made.

[disasterfandoms]

You Shouldn’t Be Alone || A Seal Team Story

(this is a horrible gif as this has nothing to do with Ray)

Summary: Amelia has a no good, terrible, very bad day; with heartbreaking results.

A/N: My brain wouldn’t shut up last night so it finished this story part of the story. This is a three parter, and it’s part of the ao3 series myself amd @bravo-four-seal-team created. This is set early season 1, before Clay joins the team. It’s mostly Naima, Amelia, and Ashley this chapter, with Trent coming in later.

TW: injuries, hospitals, mention of death, mention of people coding, mentions of health spiraling, implication of miscarriage, mention of grief, mention of pain meds

Taglist: @twentydavid @bravo-four-seal-team @a-kate3 @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @supervalcsi @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @mrsmarvelous1995​ @velvetcardiganbucky​ @itsonautopilot​ @pinkrockstar19​ @galaxysanduniversesinmymind​ @abby-splace​

Amelia was just so, so tired of today.

Everything that could go wrong, did. The morning started with a minor argument with Trent, nothing they couldn’t handle, but still annoying. Then, a rude stranger ran into her, causing their coffee to spill all over her scrubs, resulting in her having to change into surgery scrubs when she got to work. 

Work was an absolute nightmare: back-to-back-to-back codes, rapids, anything that could go wrong did go wrong. She had a patient die, got another, then they died. 

And now she’s a patient in the ER.

Every breath she took included a sharp pain from her broken ribs resisting. Her left arm is in a sling, broken collarbone, apparently; her body littered with massive bruising. Swollen lip, stitches on her right cheek. Massive black eyes, a broken nose that was corrected a few minutes ago. Grade I concussion, so while the best-case scenario, still annoying. Her throat was sore from the hands trying to end her; that’s going to bruise badly later, she noted. The bruises, scratches on her arms will heal; they might be the least irritating injuries she sustained today. Her sore back and bruised pelvis from being slammed against the wall may be the most annoying. Her legs are in surprisingly good shape, a dislocated knee being the only injury that’s worth noting. Nothing came as close as devastating as to why she was bleeding, though. 

She shook her head, wincing as she did. She won’t go there; no one is to know about that one except for her, her medical team, and Trent. Fuck, Trent. He’s going to be devastated, or relieved; she honestly still can’t tell how he felt.

 That injury in itself would garner a lot of pity. She despises pity. Everyone around her was trying to do it, though, from her nurse, Naima, to her coworkers who keep coming down to check on her. She appreciates the concern, she does, but she’s okay; it could have been a lot worse. 

 Needs a new chain for her locket, once again, stupidly annoying. It’s her comfort blanket; it lets her have what’s special to her near her heart at all times. Again, nothing that can’t be fixed, but also stupidly annoying.

Naima threw the curtain back, came into her space, and then closed them to give the two nurses some privacy. 

“Dr. Mann would rather you stay overnight to make sure you’re stable, and that way Dr, Leigh can do the procedure in the morning.” 

Amelia shook her head, then winced again. She really, really needs to stop doing that! “No way in hell, Naima. I’m fine; I just got a little banged up! And I’ll come back in the morning for the procedure.”

Naima sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, her friend was stubborn. “Who’ll drive you? That sling stops you from even considering driving yourself.”

“So, you mean to tell me that I can’t drive home?”

 “Amelia Rose Carter! You know better than that. I’ll try to convince Mann to let you go, see if we can arrange a follow-up visit or something in the morning. I’ll call your emergency contact on file, see if they can come to pick you up.”

“No!” Amelia attempted to scream, but her voice still sounds strangled and barely came out above a whisper, “Please don’t call him. He doesn’t need to know, not yet.” Amelia, begging? This is something Naima hasn’t seen from the young nurse. She could swear she saw tears starting to form in the young woman’s eyes, whether from pain or the thoughts racing in her head.

Naima crossed her arms, walking over to lean on the stretcher beside Amelia. “Amelia, is your emergency contact someone you’re afraid of?”

Amelia would have smiled, laughed at the thought, even, had her lip not be swollen, and her throat didn’t feel like fire. “No, Naima. If you looked in my file, you’d see why. He’s just very protective of me, and while I love him more than I thought I could love anyone, his care will feel like suffocation. And now I sadly know what that feels like,” she paused and listened to Naima chuckle. The older nurse then apologized, but Amelia made a motion to stop that; she’s glad someone could laugh at her dark humor. “He’s going to be so pissed about in the morning, though. We were so close to telling everyone that we were-” she stopped, tears welling up in her blackened eyes again, but Naima got the point. She grabbed the battered woman’s uninjured hand and squeezed it in reassurance.

“Okay. So if not him, then who do you want to be called? I know you mentioned a brother?”

“Scott, yeah. He’s out in the field, I think. You wouldn’t want him here. He’d take one look at me and then want the name of the patient who did this and probably threatens to kill them.”

“Okay, so boyfriend and brother are off the list. Anyone else you can think of?”

“Boyfriend’s sister? I don’t know her that well, except for the times I helped take care of her last fall. She’d be able to drive me home, though, at the very least.”

“What’s her name, and do you have her number?”

“Ashley Sawyer, and her number is in my phone,” Amelia pulls up the number and continues to speak while Naima copies it down, “Be warned, she told me she doesn’t like hospitals. You may have to break HIPAA and mention my name for her to answer the second time.”

“Second time?”

“She’ll hang up once you get out that you’re a nurse at St. Samuel’s.” This made both women chuckle. 

“Okay, I’ll go try her cell, just rest for a while, okay? Need some more pain meds before I leave?”

“You know I hate pain medicine, especially morphine. Makes my head fuzzy,” Amelia declined, she definitely didn’t need that if she had to go home to her apartment.

“Okay. I’m gonna go call her, okay?”

“Good luck.”

Little did Naima know, she was going to need it. 

Getting back to the nurses’ station, she talked to the doctor, who agreed to discharge the stubborn nurse as long as Amelia came back to the ER if she was having any complications. While the Dr. worked on getting the discharge ready, Naima called the number she received and waited for a voice on the other end.

“What do you want?” The voice said snappily, clearly irritated by someone calling her.

“Ashley, this is Naima, I am a nurse at St. Samuel’s Ho-“

Click. 

Naima sighed, preparing to call the number again. Amelia at least warned her of this happening. She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and waited for a response. This time, the number went straight to voicemail. “Ms. Sawyer, this is Naima, a nurse at St. Samuel’s Hospital. A significant other of a family member has asked that we call you to come to pick them up when they’re discharged. Please call back at this number, thank you.”

She hung up the phone and hoped that Ashley would hear the message before too long. 

Within half an hour, the same phone rang again, Naima picked up the phone and answered, “St. Samuel’s ER this Naima speaking, how can I help you?”

“You called this number a half-hour ago?” “Is this Ms. Sawyer?” “Who else would it be?” “Ms. Sawyer, this is a hospital and this isn’t my personal phone here. I’m asking for clarification, as there are about 10 phone calls per hour on this phone alone.” “You called me for a reason, snap to it.” “Yes, your brother’s girlfriend, Amelia, has asked me to call on her behalf for you to come to pick her up upon discharge,” “Shit. Is she okay, and why me?” “She’s been injured fairly well, with several bruises, several broken bones, and a dislocated knee. The doctor asked she stay for tonight, but Ms. Carter is refusing. She requested you, claiming your brother would be ‘too suffocating’”

Naima heard the woman laugh on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing since it’s clear she’s banged up pretty well. Not wrong about Trent, though.”

Wait. No, that can’t be. Well, shit. Naima pieces together what she knows about her friend’s boyfriend. Oh, she’s so telling her husband about this.

“If you agree to pick her up and take her home, you can come at any time and I’ll come out to the waiting room and bring you back. I must warn you, though, she looks rough and shouldn’t be left alone tonight. She’ll probably ask you to take her apartment to leave her be. Don’t.”

“Shit, is it that bad?” “It’s not great. The concussion she sustained would be the main worry. That and god forbid she fell and no one was there to help her. She’ll need someone to bring her back in the morning, as well, and she’s incredibly stubborn about being able to drive herself,” “She got injured, and you all are going to make her come back to work the next day?” “What? No, ma’am, she has a procedure unrelated to her injury in the morning, and claims she’ll come in and do it outpatient instead of staying,” “She’s as stubborn as the rest of us, damn,” she paused, sighing into the phone, “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

“Okay. Let the front desk know to alert me when you’ve arrived and I’ll bring you to her. Thank you, Ms. Sawyer.”

Click. 

Sighing, Naima went back to filling out the paperwork, figuring out how or when she’ll confront her friend about dating someone on her husband’s team. For now, she’ll finish the paperwork on another patient, waiting for Trent’s sister to arrive.

[duckymcdoorknob]

hello may i have a haikyuu matchup plz<3

Hi my name is rex, i’m queer and use they/them pronouns and i’m 15. And i would prefer someone not over the age of 19 plz.

have like a caramel colored skin-tone (i feel like saying im black may be easier but 🤷🏽‍♀️) and im 5’3. Rn i have a purple-pink short mullet and i have pretty curly hair, im pretty chubby but i have an hourglass shape (but i have super noticeable hip dips) , i got pretty big fucking tittes (not even in a bragging way, im a fuckin k cup bro😭) and thicc thighs(thicc thighs save lives, sorry i’ll stop). I dress pretty alternative but i cant just choose one subculture tho, i wear a lot of heavy eye makeup. I could say i dress kinda “showy” but thats kinda what only fits me, but also who gives a fuck.

Honestly I don’t really have a type. Tbh most of my relationships have ended pretty badly cause they ether only wanted something sexual from me or I was “too clingy” when i just wanted basic ass affection. But the most I want is someone who is physically affectionate (like kisses, cuddles, and hugs for days) also im ok with pda to an extent like i will hug and like cuddle you but im not gonna make out with your infront of others thats weird af.

Im a libra sun, scropio moon, and gemini rising. This means that im a pretty social person and always wanna hang out with friends and just have fun, but moon in scropio makes my emotions rlly haywire and kinda boosts any sorta negative emotion, which is hard when you have chronic anxiety and major depressive disorder. Which also means i take medication for it, which i forget a lot. And because of these things i have anxiety tics, where it ranges to making noices and twitching a bit to full on hitting myself and saying random shit. But I really like making people laugh, it makes me feel helpful, but im also good at being to mother figure for people. I also like playfully bantering with people, like i love you but will full on roast you and get into fake fist-fights. I am a bit of a violent person at times but I have a punching bag and boxing gloves which help a lot. But I only get that angry when someone uses an insecurity of mine against me or is talking bad about someone i love, cause it you do that im beating your ass. I do have a bit of body insecurities mainly about my hip-dips and stomach. But because im curvy i get hit on by adults a lot and its creepy as fuck.

My hobbies include art (painting, drawing), sleeping (because i stay up mad late😭✌🏽), reading comics, Marvel and D.C superheroes, and super villains, cartoons, and anime/manga.

My favorite music genre’s are rock, alternative, emo, rap, and a little bit if indie music.

Personality: funny, sarcastic, creative, kind, inappropriate and the right times. Like im not gonna pull out a dick joke in front of your family

I don’t really have a type and im queer so i dont have a gender preference, but anyone who’s love language is physical affection cause im a clingy bitch

I have a couple ideal dates. So the first one is like an indoor picnic and a movie, an arcade date, and a stargazing date where you get take out or fast food and drive up a hill to see the stars and you like cuddle n shit

CAN-

CAN WE BE FRIENDS PLS

POR FAVOR

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN

OKAY DOWN TO BUSINESS

I match you with……..!

Ryuunosuke Tanaka!

I just get such big vibes that Tanaka would be head over heels for you.

First and foremost: the 7 inch height difference? Yes please.

He loves to rest his arm on your shoulder bc it’s just so cute to him.

He loves your style??? I think Tanaka is also an alt Boi himself.

I’m talkin ripped jeans, skater Boi tees. Like he already wears beanies???

He loves your hip dips bc he swears that his hands fit perfectly on your hips.

HE WILL WANT YOU TO DO HIS EYE MAKEUP BC HE LOVES YOURS

Tanaka is always down for a night on the town. He loves being social and hanging with people.

But I also think that big crowds might intimidate him in just the slightest

He’ll never tell tho.

So I think he’ll cling to your forearm if he gets nervous.

Whenever you have the big sad, he brings over stuff to make nachos and dances to absolutely no music when he walks in your home.

“I’m dancing to the music in my head. And the music we’re about to be listening to”

I think that this man LOVES Hispanic music.

During your tics, he just kinda acts like it doesn’t happen if that makes sense? He doesn’t want you to feel bad or insecure about them so he just doesn’t even react to them.

Of course If you start hitting yourself too much, he’ll step in and give you a pillow to hold just in case.

Please wrestle and fake fight with him. Please he needs to be knocked down a peg

He likes to nerd out over marvel movies with you!!

I’m talkin he’s laying upside down on a beanbag and freaking out everytime something cool happens.

Always some kind of physical touch is included, and he treats you like a deity.

“GUYS THIS IS MY PARTNER AREN’T THEY SO CUTE!!”

If anyone even TRIES to agree, he gets hELLA possessive lmao.

He is a simp. Expect gifts.

Finally, I think that he would like to go on dates like roller skating and arcade, but the day you tell him about how much you want to go stargazing, he’ll take you.

He ends up loving it and that’s what you do for your anniversary every single year!

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 3

Fury/Band of Brother Crossover Fic

I don’t think I’m going to put warnings for each chapter. I have a broad statement of warnings on the masterlist. If there is something specific that I think might be triggering, I’ll put it on that chapter. Just know there will be swearing, mentions of injuries/blood, battle scenarios frequently. 

Tag List: @happyveday​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don stalked out of the HQ building, cigarette hanging between his lips. They had their orders. Tomorrow they would be heading to the next town to liberate and secure. Captain Evans had put him in charge of the other three tanks and their crews. Two of the other crews he recognized- Davis and Binkowski- having worked with them before. Yet memories of the last team he led and their demise...fuck, he could not think about that. He knew it was not his fault that Tiger got those lucky shots in. 

 His hands still shook slightly at the memory though.  Hearing their screams. He wondered if he would ever be free from the sounds of dying men or if that would haunt him until his own demise. 

 Walking down the snow-laden, muddy streets, his attention switched from the checklist of preparations running through his mind to seeing Boyd crossing the street up ahead. 

 "Boyd!" He shouted, getting his gunner's attention. Boyd stopped and waited for him, thankfully. Fuck if Don was going to jog to catch up. "Where are you off to?"

 Boyd motioned towards the field hospital, with the cigarette in hand. "Promised Anna I'd stop by if we was still here."

 "Alright. Let's go."

 If Boyd wondered why Don was following him, he wisely kept his mouth shut. 

 "Get our orders?" The gunner asked, maneuvering around a seeping pot hole in the ground. 

 "Yeah, heading out tomorrow. Gonna take out a town but start in the reserves. Intel says there are civilians there and they want to minimize damage."

 "We sure these civilians won't shoot us when our backs are turned?"

 "One can only hope."

 They entered the field hospital, both having tossed his spent cigarettes just outside the door. A few men lay on cots but overall, it was surprisingly quiet. A curvy, dark-haired nurse was passing out what looked like bowls of watery soup to the wounded men. A few of the men glanced their way but went back to whatever they had been doing before. From somewhere off to the left, it sounded like someone was constantly hacking up a lung in a different room. 

 Don usually did everything possible to avoid going to field hospitals or aid stations. The air always seemed tainted with blood, death and screaming. Something he had more than enough experience with on his own. There were a few times he should have sought medical care but refused, forcing Boyd to wrap up the bullet graze or the one time he got a small piece of shrapnel in his leg. That one hurt like a sonofabitch. Why he was here now with Boyd, going out of his way to enter a field hospital he had no reason to be in... he could not even justify it to himself. 

 A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform walked over to them, coming from a side room. "Y'all injured?" Her shrewd, brown eyes looked over both men with terrifying precision, trying to determine who was the patient. 

 Boyd pulled out his bandaged hand from his jacket pocket. "Came here to see Anna...ah, Nurse Cooper. She wanted to check it yesterday."

 "Mmm… ya that fella that looked out for her last night. Made sure she ate."

 "Yes, ma'am."

 "Thank ya kindly again. That girl gives too much and forgets to take care of herself. I'll get her for ya. Y’all go on now and take a seat towards the back." She gestured towards the few open beds, then turned those shrewd eyes on Don to openly scrutinize him. "Why are ya here?"

 "Moral support. Boyd here is a crybaby and I said I'd hold his hand…" He chuckled as Boyd swatted his arm, muttering something under his breath. 

 She pursed her lips but did not comment. "A'right. Y'all best be on good behavior. Doctor Erickson is in a right mood, I tell ya. I don't want her to get in no trouble because of y’all, ya here?" Without explanation, she turned on her heel and walked away. 

 Don met Boyd's eyes but he only shrugged. He followed his friend to a cot set against the back wall. Don snagged a nearby stool and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. They sat in silence, neither one feeling the need to fill the air. They had been comrades for three years now and brothers for just as long. Often with a single look they could understand one another. Don was not sure if he believed in God anymore, he had seen too much war and too much death. But if there was a man upstairs, He deserved to be profusely thanked for bringing Boyd into Don's life. 

 "Good morning, Boyd. Good morning, sir." Anna chirped as she came around from a side door, wiping her hands on a cloth. She briefly looked around the floor nearby, hesitated then sat down next to Boyd on the cot. 

 "Mornin', Anna. How are you today?" Boyd asked. 

 "I'm fine. How are you? How does your hand feel?" She asked as she placed his bandaged hand on her leg and began unwrapping it. 

 "Feels a little stiff, don't hurt too much anymore."

 "Good." She poked and ran the lightest touch around the cut on his palm. "Doesn't look like it's infected and it's healing nicely already. I'm going to bandage it back up with some new dressing. Try and keep it clean and dry, change the dressing every day. Do you have your orders?"

 "Yeah, heading out tomorrow."

 "I'll grab some extra dressings for you then. Can one of your crew help you with it?"

 Don cleared his throat. "I'll make sure." 

 She met his eyes for the first time with a small smile before standing back up. "I'll be right back." She disappeared around the corner. 

 "She reminds me a little of my sister." Boyd softly said, gaze having followed her out. 

 Ah, so there it was. Don eyed his gunner but chose not to comment. It made sense now why he was so protective of the young woman. Boyd had always been the most sentimental of their crew. Hopefully that sentimentality would not bite him in the ass later. 

 It did not take long for the red-headed nurse to return, hands holding new wrappings and dressings. Before she could sit down on the cot again, a shout made her jolt, whipping around to face towards the front. 

 "Nurse Cooper!" 

 Don watched a tall, blonde man stride into the room like he owned every inch of the ground he walked on. With his doctor's uniform on, he practically did. The tank commander was unsure what was going on but he had a bad feeling. Unconsciously, he straightened up in his chair, staring hard at the doctor.

 "Come here!" The doctor bellowed, completely ignoring the scene he was causing.

 Anna carefully set the bandage down next to Boyd before slowly walking towards the doctor. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips and a glare to rival the devil's on his stubbled face. When she stood before him, he immediately got in her face. 

 "What the fuck do you think you're doing with my patients! One came in here an hour ago and complained you ignored him! Need I remind you that we are to help everyone with an injury, it does not matter our personal preferences or if you find them attractive. You do your damn job!"

 "Yes, sir. I apologize, I asked Nurse Falk to help him because…"

 A loud smack filled the air. 

 The doctor pulled his hand back from backhanding her to only point a finger at her. "I don't care for your excuses. Do your fucking job or I'll find you some hell hole to work in. Do I make myself clear?"

 Don was up and moving before he realized it. He looped an arm around Anna's waist and pulled her behind him in one fluid motion. He squared off in front of the doctor, meeting him eye to eye. 

 No words were spoken, yet a war waged between them. This doctor wore an air of authority like a badge to wave in other's faces. If he expected the tank commander to back down, he was sorely mistaken. Don had been fighting too long, killed too many men with his own hands to be intimidated by someone who thought when he opened his mouth, everyone around should obey. Don narrowed his eyes, silently begging the man to try something. Give him an excuse to knock the arrogant asshole down a couple notches. 

 Finally, the doctor looked over Don's shoulder, glaring at Anna one more time. "Do your job." He spat out before retreating out of the room and up a set of stairs. 

 Don watched his retreating form for a minute, making sure the man was not going to turn around and continue to publicly berate and abuse Anna. When he could no longer hear the doctor's step, he looked down at the small woman still huddled against him. 

 "You alright, sweetheart?"

 Tilting her head up to meet his eyes, she nodded and licked her lips before answering, voice just above a whisper. "Thank you."

 He could not help it. Oh so carefully, he put his other hand on her chin and turned her head to see the reddened cheek. 

 "I'm fine. It's not that bad." She stepped out of his grasp and looked back towards the front. 

 The middle-aged woman with the shrewd eyes and graying hair watched them, both hands gripping a towel until her knuckles were white. Quietly, she approached and took a look at Anna's cheek. "Finish up with ya patient then get to the kitchen. Make yaself a cup of tea."

 "Yes, ma'am." Anna started back down the rows of cots to Boyd's side, head down, ignoring the looks sent her way by those in the room. 

 Don met the aging nurse's eyes and a silent understanding passed between them. She gave him a brief nod then left. A sigh left his lips before he rejoined Boyd and Anna, returning to his spot on the stool. 

 She worked silently, putting some kind of ointment on Boyd's cut and dressing it. 

 "Anna." Boyd tried to get her attention but she ignored it, working methodically. "Anna, look at me. Come on."

 Finally, she looked up with watery eyes. "He came in this morning."

 "Who did?"

 "That Private from last night…"

 "Shit," Boyd swore, rubbing his other hand over his moustache, "that's who the doctor is yelling at you about?"

 She looked away, gathering up the soiled dressing, then stood. "I need to clean these. I… I wish you both well tomorrow...good luck." 

 Boyd stood, putting a hand on her shoulder. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times as if to say something encouraging but finally settled with, "I'll be praying for you."

 "Thanks. If anything, I'm glad I met you." She looked down at Don, still sitting with his forearms on his knees. "Both of y’all. Thank y’all for everything." With a final small smile, she walked out of view and towards the back room. 

 "Don…"

 The tank commander finally stood, quickly lighting a new cigarette. "I know, Boyd, I know. Come on. Us lingering isn't gonna do her any good."

 They walked out together side by side, clean dressings and bandages in both their pockets. Neither said anything as they walked back to Fury, their separate thoughts on the auburn-haired nurse. 

 When they caught sight of Fury with the others lounging around, Don knew what he had to do. 

 "Fuck it." He muttered then stopped walking. "Bible, start getting Fury ready to leave for tomorrow. Spread the word."

 "Where you going, Don?"

 "There's something I gotta do."

 Before further questions could be asked, he started back the way they had just come. He brusquely pushed past someone standing idly in the doorway of the field hospital. His eyes scanned the large front room and landed on the matronly nurse from before, who was examining a man's shoulder as he gritted his teeth. 

 "Nurse." Don spoke up, stepping closer. When she looked up at him, he continued, "where is she?"

 She seemed to weigh out her answer before jerking her head towards the back. "In the kitchen still. Be quick."

 He brushed past all the cots and the few men filling them, wandering into the back room where a few extra cots were and medical supplies in cabinets. To his right was another door. Without hesitation, he pushed it open and was relieved it was the kitchen. 

 It was a small room and probably had been cozy at one time before the war came and ravaged it. A fire was lit in the hearth, a black kettle hanging just over it. The sound of the water just beginning to boil made the scene feel domestic. A small wooden table was pushed against the wall, three chairs crowding it in. Anna sat on one of the chairs, hair freed from its typical bun and hanging loose down her back. Having heard the door open, she turned and he witnessed her eyes widened as she recognized him. 

 "Sergeant? Is everything alright?" 

 Putting his boot on the chair across the small table from her, he unstrapped the combat knife and sheath strapped to his lower leg, hidden under his trousers. It thudded when he set it on the table, the sound feeling like a gong going off even though it was not nearly that loud. 

 "It's a Mark 3 combat knife. I've had it since North Africa. Hide it somewhere on you that you can reach easily. Don't worry about using it right, just use it however you can to defend yourself. Slash. Stab. Doesn't fucking matter. You wait though until they can't get away. Don't pull it out too soon and someone with skills will knock it out of your hands or just take it from you. Got it?"

 Her sapphire eyes were wide as saucers as she looked at him then the knife, gingerly reaching her hand out to touch it. "Why are you giving me this?"

 "Look, find someone to show you how to use it if you…"

 She reached over and placed a hand on his forearm, effectively silencing him. "I know how to use a knife. My father taught me. I had a knife but Doctor Erickson took it. Said it was not appropriate. This time he won't find it." She looked up, meeting his hardened gaze. "Why did you come back?"

 Don sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

 They stared at each other, both seeking answers in the other person's eyes. It was in this moment he truly began to notice things about her; like how there was a ring of gold around the iris in her eyes, how there was a slight dimple in her chin, how her features were soft but underneath it all, was a core as strong as steel. This was how she had survived as long as she did on the front lines of war. His respect for her increased. She looked a dainty, petite little rose but that was only her outward appearance. 

 The door opened behind them and the dark-haired, curvy nurse stuck her head in. "Anna, I'm going to need your assistance."

 "Yes. Yes, I'll be right there."

 The other nurse closed the door, only sparing Don a quick look. With that, whatever intimate moment they conjured shattered into a thousand glass pieces. 

 Don rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what just happened. It did not matter though. In all likelihood he was never going to see her again. "Good luck, Nurse Cooper."

 He turned to head out but she gripped his arm, holding him frozen. In a flash, she stepped closer and rose up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jawline. Not that she could reach much higher. 

 "Stay safe, Sergeant. " She whispered, before snatching the combat knife off the table and slipping out the door like a dream. 

 His hand drifted on its own accord to rub the spot where her lips touched his skin. 

 He groaned as he realized what he was doing. Silently reprimanding himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stormed out, past the cots and fellow soldiers, keeping his eyes forward. He had a job to do. They were in the middle of a war for Christ's sake. He should not be acting like some schoolboy. 

 If the skin that had been graced by her lips felt like a seal on his jawline, no one else needed to know that. 

 *****

 Anna helped Nurse Harris patch up a soldier who had gotten his foot crushed as best as they could. She worried they would have to amputate it but for the moment, it was bandaged as well as possible and he was finally sleeping, the morphine having fully kicked in. 

 She tended to the few other men laying on cots, making sure they all had water, no one was in major pain and they were as comfortable as possible. The last rays of sun peered through the windows, a display of reds, oranges and yellows coating the inside of the field hospital. 

 As she moved about, the strange yet comforting feel of the combat knife strapped to her calf was her companion. And with the feeling of it, her thoughts continuously drifted to the Staff Sergeant who gave it to her. 

 What had she been thinking to kiss him? Even if it was meant innocently and as a thank you. Stupid, so stupid. It was too late now to change it. For all she knew, she would never see him again. He could die in the fight tomorrow and she would never know. 

 The thought of his death sent a sharp stab to her heart.

 Only in her own mind would she easily admit how attractive she found the man to be. When he held her behind him, an arm around her to protect and shield her from Doctor Erickson; his touch had knocked the air out of her lungs more than the slap from the doctor ever could.  

 "Nurse Cooper." 

 Anna looked up as Nurse Falk walked towards her. "Yes, ma'am?"

 "Come with me."

 Nerves came alight with those three words. Whatever this was, it could not be good. Anna set down the clean bandages she had been rolling to store away and followed the matronly nurse towards the back. 

 In the kitchen, Nurse Falk quickly moved to shut the doors, even going so far to draw the curtains over the solitary window. The only light came from the small fire in the fireplace. 

 This could not be good. Was Doctor Erickson sending her away? Oh God, what was she going to do?

 Nurse Falk had never been one for physical touch. So when she came and grabbed Anna's hands, holding them between their bodies, Anna could feel tears gathering in her eyes. 

 This was bad. 

 "Ya know 'bout that mission tomorrow?"

 Anna could only nod. Her throat felt swollen, questions threatening to choke her. 

 "Captain Evans asked for some additional medical support. He's plannin' on settin' up a small aid station there. Says there's civilians and he's worried 'bout extra casualties."

 No.

 "Besides their usual medics, they asked for any spare medics we have…"

 No, please, no. 

 "...but Doctor Erickson gave 'im ya name. Since ya speak both German and French, it would help with them civilians, and ya would be seen as less intimidatin' than a soldier if they be needin' a translator. I'm sorry."

 So, this was Doctor Erickson's final revenge. To this day she still questioned what she had done to cause him to hate her so much. Since the beginning, he treated her like shit on his boot. Now he was offering her up as a sacrificial lamb. 

 "When...when do we leave?"

 "Oh seven hundred. Ya be ridin' in a truck with Medic Hunter...do ya need help packin'?"

 She shook her head, cursing the tears that slipped down her cheeks. 

 "A'right. Go pack and rest while ya can. We'll find ya some new clothes too. I'll come get ya in the mornin'." She squeezed Anna's hands once more before stepping away. 

 In a daze, Anna felt her feet moving but did not remember telling them to. Up the stairs she went to the small bedroom she shared with two other nurses. She sat on her cot, mind numb and lacking the energy to do anything. 

 She was being sent away. To the real front lines. Alone. A single woman alone in a company of soldiers. She knew Medic Hunter; he seemed a good man. She had gotten used to the chaotic, draining life of working in a field hospital. She had been doing it for a year now. At least she was around other women, a few she would even call friends. 

 Tomorrow all that would be gone. 

 Slowly, she curled up on her bed and silently let the tears fall unaided. She was tired. So bone-deep tired of this war. Of seeing young men dead or maimed. Of constantly being dirty with grime and blood. Of remembering what spilled intestines looked like more than her childhood home. 

 She always tried to convince herself that it would get better, tomorrow would be better. It was a habit she had picked up from her mother, trying to always be positive, to see the best in everyone. 

 For the first time, she did not even try to pretend that tomorrow would be better. 

[moldychocc]

saccharine | a seccolata playlist

pronouns and stuff are adjusted x)   [ the link is  h e r e  ]

saccharine — jazmin bean: everything you do/ i'm obsessed with you/i don't mean to scare/ but you're just so cute/ every move you make/ you're fucking sweeter than a cake/i wanna cut you up/ and put you in my oven just to bake/ this shit is scaring me/ the thought of caring/ for anyone makes me want to scream/ looking at you makes me wanna/ gouge out my eyes/ bloody surprise/ like cherry pie/ will you be mine?/ saccharine, feeling kind of sick vomit in my teeth/ i don't want this responsibility

baby eyes — green day: they say my middle name is danger/ the guy you keep away from strangers / i’m out of control/ oh baby when i see your pretty face/ god rest your fucking soul/ 'cause baby, baby I was born to kill

prescription — mindless self indulgence: i'm the doctor, i'm the patient/ don't forget that, it's important/ if ya love me, like i love me/ everybody will be sorry

nine inch nails — closer: i broke apart my insides/ help me/ i've got no soul to sell/ i wanna fuck you like an animal/ i wanna feel you from the inside/ my whole existence is flawed/ you get me closer to god

fuck time — green day: take a look into my eyes/ i wanna hold you 'til you're paralyzed/ oh baby, baby, it's fuck time/ you know i really want to make you mine

dna — little mix: no scientist or biology/ it’s only natural that i'm so affected/ and my heart won't beat again/ if i can't feel him in my veins/ no need to question, i already know/ it's in his dna

turn me on — nicki minaj: doctor, doctor, need you back home/ doctor doctor, where you at? give me something/i need your love, i need your loving/ you got that kind of medicine that keeps me coming

the dismemberment song — blue kid: hold still, my sweet/ i'm trying to measure the space between your molar and your jaw/ this caliper– no cause for fear/ no, it... it doesn't hurt/ it only helps me measure how much skin you have

can’t decide — scissor sisters: i can't decide/ whether you should live or die/ you'll probably go to heaven/ please don't hang your head and cry/ no wonder why/ my heart feels dead inside/ it's cold and hard and petrified/ lock the doors and close the blinds/ we're going for a ride

culling of the fold — the decemberists: cut him up boy/ he's a wicked disgrace/ and he said it to your face/ you better cut him up boy/ take him by the teeth/ get him down on his knees/ with your hands all shaking

what do they know? — mindless self indulgence: beat me up/ beat me down/ mess me up/ beyond all recognition/ for what it's worth/ i'd do it again/ with no consequence/ i will do it again

adrenalize — in this moment: i must confess i'm addicted to this/ shove your kiss straight through my chest/ i can't deny, i'd die without this/ make me feel like a god

love buzz —  shocking blue: would you believe me when i tell you/ you're the king of my heart/ please don't deceive me when I hurt you/ just ain't the way it seems

cascade — siouxsie and the banshees: the air was shining/ shining like a wedding ring/ barbed like sex/ i felt ten thousand volts/ my chest was full of eels/ pushing through my usual skin/ i opened up new wounds/ pouting, shouting

tear you apart — she wants revenge: he wanted her and this was bad/ he wanted to do things to him it was making him crazy/ now a little crush turned into a like/ and now he wants to grab him by the hair and tell her/ i want to hold you close/ skin pressed against me tight/ lie still, and close your eyes, boy/ i want to fucking tear you apart

drain you — nirvana: i don't care what you think unless it is about me/ it is now my duty to completely drain you/ chew my meat for you/ pass it back and forth in a passionate kiss/ from my mouth to yours/ i like you

touch — lights fade low: no one will stain you/ no one will pain you/ i'll keep you clean until my end/ no one will hurt you/ the way that i hurt you/ nothing will feel the same again

polly — nirvana: i think she wants some water/ to put out the blowtorch / let me clip your dirty wings/ let me take a ride, cut yourself/ want some help, please myself

qual — xmal deutschland: deine qual ist meine lust/ meine liebe ist dein tod/ nachts wenn du schläfst bin ich lebendig/ mein tag ist deine dämmerung/ meine wiege ist dein grab

clown — switchblade symphony: crying loud, you are crawling on the floor/ just a beautiful baby/ you're nothing more/ close your eyes/ you are crawling into sleep/ i swear i won't break you/ if you let me take you/ where the willows never weep

church of no return — Christian death: in the beginning there was sinning/ and in the end, well, let's pretend/ blessed is the fruit i dare you/ to take another bite of it/ and somehow i think you will/ in spite of it

bloody mary — lady gaga: love is just a history that they may prove/ and when you're gone/ i'll tell them my religion's you

spiritual cramp — christian death: crosses burn your temples on slaughter avenue/ it takes too much time to say 'i refuse'/ time is digging graves for the chosen few/ children dig graves for me and you/ describe the illness i'll prescribe the cure

cavity - first communion — christian death: nailing you to the wall/ nailing you to the spanish mystic/ i sit and hold hands with myself/ i sit and make love to myself/ i've got blood on my hands/ i've got blood on your hands

where did you sleep last night — nirvana: my boy, my boy, don't lie to me/ tell me where did you sleep last night

lithium — nirvana: i'm so happy/ 'cause today I found my friends/ they're in my head/ and i'm not scared, light my candles/ in a daze 'cause i've found god/ i like it, i'm not gonna crack/ i miss you, i'm not gonna crack/ i love you, i'm not gonna crack/ i killed you, i'm not gonna crack

carpe diem — green day: carpe diem, a battle cry/ are we all too young to die?/ making a living/ making a killing/ what's worth forgiving?

dirty rotten bastards — green day: calling all the demons, this is the season/ next stop is therapy/ we're the retarded and the brokenhearted/ the season of misery/ gonna take it further/ get away with murder/ and no one here is getting out alive

witness — mindless self indulgence (yes, unironically. no, i’m not writing down the lyrics.)

brain stew — green day: my mind is set on overdrive/ the clock is laughing in my face/ a crooked spine, my senses dulled/ passed the point of delirium/ on my own, here we go

minority — green day (my big cio song!!): i pledge allegiance to the underworld/ a face in the crowd unsung, against the mold/ without a doubt singled out the only way I know/ 'cause I want to be the minority/ i don't need your authority/ down with the moral majority

dr. feelgood — mötley crüe (dealer cio dealer cio dealer cio): i've got one thing you'll understand/ he’s not what you'd call a glamorous man/ got one thing that's easily understood/ he’s the one they call dr. feelgood

ich will — rammstein: ich will dass du mir vertraut/ ich will dass du mir glaubt/ ich will deine blicke spüren/ ich will jeden herzschlag kontrollieren/ ich will deine phantasie/ ich will deine energie/ ich will deine hände sehen/ ich will in beifall untergehen

gimme chocolate — babymetal: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

candy candy — kyary pamy pamyu (see above)

body — mother mother: take my eyes, take them aside/ take my face, and desecrate/ my arms and legs/ they get in the way

spellbound — siouxsie and the banshees: from the cradle bars/ comes a beckoning voice/ it sends you spinning/ you have no choice/ following the footsteps/ of a rag doll dance/ spellbound

someone’s in the wolf — queens of the stone age: he steps between the trees, a crooked man/ there's blood on the blade/ don't take his hand/ tempt the fates, beware the smile/ it hides all the teeth, my dear/ what's behind them/ so glad you could stay/ forever

gutter glitter — switchblade symphony: iridescent eyes, of the seahorse rise/ treasure he loves, others despise/ braceletes of silver adorn my wrists/ candy kissed from sugar lips

l’insetto — hiroshima mon amour: io voglio il cuore, io voglio il sangue/ voglio bruciare, voglio uscire/ io voglio andare dove mi porta la coscienza/ di essere un insetto/ voglio fuggire, voglio tornare/ é sempre il tempo per sognare/ ed ai miei occhi un fiore è differente/ un insetto è differente dagli occhi di un insetto

a day — clan of xymox: where are you/ when i am needing you… so far away/ i think you're the most important to me to me/ my sunken footsteps put themselves on/ through this gallery of deceased

restless heart syndrome — green day: i've got a really bad disease/ it's got me begging on my hands and knees/ so, take me to emergency/ 'cause something seems to be missing/ i'm elated, medicated/ lord knows i've tried to find a way/ to run away/ you’d be surprised what I endure

wallflower — switchblade symphony: something is happening underneath the ground/ for he’s been waiting to bloom/ thinking and wondering/ of his climb up to the sun/ “let me grow… the soil, it strangles me”

[temptingempress]

The Mafia’s Princess (3)

Summary: “I can’t loose you because if I loose you I loose myself. You’re all I have left.” she begged him to put the gun down. Her bloody knees splashed into the mud. Helicopters surrounded them and the sirens were getting closer and closer but she could think about was him. The man whom she fell in love with, standing in front of them. Gun pointed towards his head.

This is a HoseokxOc story but feel free to think of her as y/n. I just didn’t want to call her y/n so I used my own character that you’ll see in a lot of my stories but her mood and temperament will change in each story. The character depicted in the photo is my imagination of her, you can depict her anyway you would like.

Warning: Injuries, swearing, knife mentions, mafia mentions (obviously), a little bit of angst. 

Previous: https://temptingempress.tumblr.com/post/641614237353099264/the-mafias-princess-jhs-2

“Almost there.” Hoseok huffed as they climbed the hill that led to the abandoned garage. The garage was originally popular amongst the civilians but the town turned into a ghost town, which made it the perfect place for mafia’s to meet up for certain things. 

Areum’s P.O.V

I let out a slight giggle hearing Hoseok’s huffs and his struggles to make it up the hill. For a big buff mafia man you’d think he could walk thousands of miles but he could get out of breath just by opening a jar of pickles. “Come on Muscle Man. Just a few more feet to go.” I teased earning a hearty chuckle back from him. “You gotta remember that I hauled your ass for like 3 miles.” He poked my head gently but still managed to make me flinch. “Scaredy cat, ah, there it is.”  Hoseok’s P.O.V

Oh thank goodness, I was about to fall face down out of exhaustion, It’s been hours that I’ve been on my damn feet. The large garage was right behind the abandoned mall aka the drug trade. I leaned against the concrete wall showered in explicit graffiti. Taking out my phone I dialed the driver’s number. I took Areum’s hand and pulled her closer to me “Stay close, the crackheads lurk.” The phone then picked up and he said his usual phrase “Annyeonghaseyo jeoneun bangtan sonyeondan hwanggeum maknae jeon jungkook imnida”  “Where are you.” I asked him bluntly, too tired to deal with his absurdness right now.  “Ahh, I’m in the garage.” The sound of the engine rumbles in the background making it hard to decipher what he was saying  “I’m with Cynthia and we are on the fifth flight!” Letting out a low groan, I sure didn’t have it in me to walk five flights up. My legs would surely give out or possibly crack in half. “Drive the car down, the damsel in injured.” Areum crossed her arms as her cheeks puffed out like two balloons “Why do I have to be the damsel? Do I look like I’m in distress? Why can’t I be the hero or the even the black widow!” she went on and on but her words begun to blur out. I was only focused on how to get into that damn car and get back to the house as fast as we humanly could. “I can’t boss, someone might catch us!” “Jungkook that’s a demand not an order. If anyone sees us then we’ll just send an assassin out or something.” “Ah! Quiet down boss. I’m comin I’m comin. You’re gonna get us caught one day.” he then hung up on me which made me slightly irritated. “I should’ve never hired that damn maknae.” Areum slouches next to me but she still with held the smile lurking on her lips. Times like these, it gets comforting to see especially from her. “How do you do it huh?” I chuckled a bit and took her wrist, pulling her closer to me so we could warm each other up in this cold weather. “How do you manage to smile in the most fucked up situations?”  “Well, as long as I’m with you the situation isn’t that bad. Besides, I like to see you struggle.” She jokes with a slight laugh giving me the answer I should’ve anticipated. 

“Ha ha.” I sarcastically laugh along, ruffling her hair up with my rough fingers. Then, the car finally arrived. It was a old and dirty truck which suits this place very well. I opened up the back door for Areum to go in first. If anyone saw us pull up in a brand new red convertible they would know something was up. Jungkook then put his foot on the gas and pulled off rather very fast. Areum rushed to put her seatbelt on while everyone else just sat there exhausted. It was just the wee hours in the morning, nobody was on the roads so Jungkook cranked the windows down. As long as nobody recognized Areum or me, we should be good. We took the back roads just to make sure. Jungkook turned on the speakers to his favorite songs then spoke loudly “How’d your little getaway go!”  Cynthia, the co leader of this mafia, turned down the speakers to allow Areum and I to rest. “Jungkook, why do you have to be so loud all the time?”  I knew Cynthia every since I inherited this whole mafia business. She’s always been like a sister to me. She was there whenever I needed her and whenever I didn’t. 

I put my hands behind my head and let out a long sigh “It was nice until someone called the damn cops on us.” I let the wind cool me off as I closed my eyes “That part really spoiled the whole entire thing.” Areum hummed to the country music playing in the background. “But it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle! Right Hoseok?” “Mmhm.” I felt myself falling into a deep sleep. My energy to perform anything at this point was drifting away. 

Areum’s P.O.V

I took a cover from the floor and draped it over Hoseok he looked like he was passed out. I couldn’t blame him. “I’m sure Hoseok took good care of you... as always.” Cynthia sighed to herself.  My face scrunched up as I felt slightly offended, I tried to calm myself down, trying not to get that stuck up princess attitude I always tend to have... I’m working on that. I am. “I guess.” I felt my leg start to sting a bit. The adrenaline was running out and the pain was setting in. Letting out a quiet grunt I held my leg close  “I got bit and scratched by dogs.” Jungkook turned back to see the blood beginning to drip down my leg again. I must’ve injured it when I got back up to walk. “Yikes.” Jungkook spoke “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.” He passed me a box of tissues “Here”.

 Cynthia looked at me then back to the road “You have to stop being so careless whenever you’re around him.” “Careless?” I took the tissues and started to wipe off as much blood as I could. Once I saw the cut, it only stung even more. I couldn’t think of a smart response because of it. It hurts like hell but I wanted to keep my composure. 

Strong women don’t cry right? 

Besides, I wanted to be strong for him. I wanted to be strong to Hoseok and to prove everyone that I deserve to be here.

As we drove up to the big mansion where the mafia resided in Jungkook parked the car and I was cared for immediately getting escorted to their little medical room by her assigned nurses. Out of the corner of my eye she saw Cynthia caring for Hoseok, walking him back inside with one of his arms draped around her shoulder. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a hint of jealously inside my heart. Ever since I’ve met her she’s always given me ‘Oh, I’m better than you’ vibes but I’ve been trying to brush it off. I don’t want my own jealousy to get in the way of Hoseok and I. I never did. I looked up to a girl with a silver necklace hanging down her neck. It was Lisa, Hoseok’s sister.

-

“Follow me” she hums as she takes the mysterious criminals hand. They were rough and she noticed that they were also tatted. She couldn’t get a full glimpse but it looked like part of a dragons tale. The man spoke up as the princess led him through the endless maze of twist and turns.

Hoseok’s P.O.V

“Why are you helping me?” This could be a big trap but then again I have no choice. If it wasn’t for her I’d be surrounded by this damn kingdom and if she pulled anything stupid I have a gun right on my hip and I’m not afraid to shoot little miss princess. A person who gets anything and everything under her fingertips. People like her is the whole reason why me and my family rebelled. People like her enforced the stupid laws society has, People like her ruin everything I’ve worked for but here I was holding her hand. Her grip was tight so it wasn’t like I could let go. “Because I want to help you.” She hums with a slight smile “Besides the castle needed a little action.” We then came to another dead end, this time we were surrounded by vineyards of roses and fine grapes.  “And you do realize that you are helping the number one felon in Korea right now?”

Before the princess could respond she ripped the bottom half of her expensive dress off so she could have more freedom in her strides which threw me off a bit. Her thighs are now fully exposed and she had not problem with that. “So?” She took the fabric and tied it along her thigh “You do realize that the wealthiest girl in Korea is helping a felon out right?” She echos. “Do you have a knife?”  I pulled out a pocket knife and handed it to her, even though I probably shouldn’t of. This was getting pretty interesting and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know where it was going. The princess went up to the vines and cut them open. I chuckled as she did so “Very smart princess,  but wouldn’t they follow us inside-” After she was done cutting the vines a door was revealed. She twisted the golden knob and it led us inside what seemed like to be a small bedroom, with a tv, bed, and a large bookcase. There were paintings on the wall but they seemed like they were either drawn by her or someone else. 

The princess pressed on a red button and the vines attached to one another again as if nothing even happened. The princess smiled at me, feeling proud of herself for helping a person like myself out. “You’re welcome.” she beams I scoffed to myself and looked around her mini hideout “You led me to a bed. I’m not interested in making out with you right now, I need to get back to my base.” “Make out?” She crosses her arms and a light blush appears on her face “I wouldn’t t-touch you with a ten foot pole!”  I looked down at her hand still attached to mine but she quickly let go of it. I sighed as I started to look around. Thinking about how I could ever get out of here without getting caught. I didn’t want to escape in the morning because that’s when small children flood the maze. It wouldn’t be a good look for a grown man with a gun attached to his hip be in it with them. And besides, I’m on a time schedule.

 The princess spoke once again, her arms not leaving her chest “Who says I don’t have a way for you to get out!”  “Look sweetheart.” I took out my gun and pointed it towards her head, I really didn’t have a choice. “Stop playing games, get me out of here now or I will shoot you.” She froze once I pulled out my gun but the same smile appears onto her face. What was this girl? Some type of psychopath? “You wouldn’t kill me Mister. If you did you’d spend more time in prison or possibly the dungeon than you’d intend to. Ah, who am I kidding they’d possibly put you to death.”  I didn’t drop the gun but she did make a point. I know at some point in my life that I was going to go to jail or die but it’s too soon in the game. I plan to hold my father’s legacy until I die. “Show me the exit now.” My voice rose to stir more fear in her but it failed.

“Not until you tell me your name.” She looked me straight in the eyes. “I.. I want you to be my friend.” “I’m not a good friend.” I chuckled at the how naive this woman was. “I’ll tell you what. You show me the exit and you get a name. Deal?” She thought it over for a moment, lowering her arms she nodded and walked to her bookcase. she pushed it aside and there was a window. It seemed to be led to the woods. I wondered why there was even a such thing in a whole kingdom. Why was she the only one who knew about this.  “Can I get-” Before she could say another word I pushed her to the floor, causing her to loose her balance and fall. She shouted at me before I made a run for it. I should’ve killed her. The window was already unlocked to that made it easier for me. Did I feel bad about it?

No, I didn’t. 

It was my sister’s birthday and I’m already running late. I checked if I still had the necklace in my pocket and it was still in it’s pretty velvet box. -

Areum’s P.O.V

Lisa helped me onto a bed then got her gloves on. She was very careful not to hurt me anymore than I already was. I trusted her, so I allowed my eyes shut. She was a certified nurse even before this whole mafia deal begun. Lisa accessed the bite and scratches “That dog left a pretty big mark on you.” She informs as she sterilizes her equipment before she uses them. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.” I chuckle and look down at her “You sound so cool when you say that.” She gave me a smile as she starts to apply alcohol which stung even more. I winced but held in my pain. “You can scream if you’d like. I’m not here to judge.” Lisa hummed.

Well, If I had her permission...

-

Hoseok P.O.V

“Where’s Areum?” I asked as I held onto Cynthia’s shoulder. I didn’t even notice that we were already to the quarters. I must’ve fell asleep. “She’s getting treated.” Cynthia laid me on my door post allowing me to catch my composure again. Cynthia sighs as she dusts off her red dress that she always wears whenever she’s going out. Unlike me, she could go out whenever she pleases. Her identity hasn’t been given out yet so that’s why she’s our lurer. She lures people with her “charm”  so we could eventually handle business with  them. “You know.” She walks a little closer to me, feeling my cheek to make sure that the small cut would be okay “If she keeps getting you in danger like this then I’m not sure if she’s the perfect cut for this mafia.” “Cynthia.” I sighed and pulled away from her fingers. “Not this again. Areum is just as deserving as you are.” “What Hoseok, we all know it. She can’t even fend for herself. What makes you think she could fend for you? You’re only putting her in danger, not only her us! The whole mafia empire.” She got a bit mad but she soon calmed down by the look I was giving her. “I’m tired alright, can’t we talk about this some other time?”  Cynthia gave me one last look before she went her own way. She had a mission this morning but I had a whole bunch of overdue sleeping to do until I get back on my feet again. I went inside of my room, not even caring to turn on the lights. I just kicked my shoes off and threw my body on the big master bed awaiting me. It felt amazing but yet so empty without Areum lying by my side. As I wrapped myself in the covers I couldn’t help but to think about Cynthia’s words. She was right, if people found us out then it would be over for us as we know it but...

 I guess I’m a sucker for her love but I know that this chapter will soon come to an end. It’ll take a miracle if it’s a good one. ~

I hope you guys enjoyed, if you want me to add something more spicy my dms and asks are always open :) Please like this so it gives me motivation to go on! Also, do you like the cover work?

Your friend,

                  TemptingEmpress 

[theiconicscott]

Whumptober Day 3

Prompt: "Who did this to you?"

Relationship (Fandom): TK/Carlos (911: Lone Star)

Author's Note: This follows on from yesterday's post, but should also make sense if you haven't read that yet.

~ ~ ~

By the time TK finally gets home - three hours after his boyfriend, and an hour later than planned, thanks to a very uncooperative patient on their last call - Carlos is stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for their dinner.

"Hey babe," TK calls, his keys clinking as they land in the bowl by the door. "How's it going?"

Carlos sighs and shakes his head. "We're out of onions, and some of the spices have gone off," He says, his voice hoarse, and TK wonders if the flu that's been spreading around town has finally caught up with them. "But I really don't have the energy to worry about that, so I'm doing stir fry instead."

"Sounds good to me." TK kicks his shoes off by the stairs and wanders over, wrapping Carlos in a hug from behind. "Anything you want me to do?"

"No, I'm good."

Carlos carries on his work, the movements small and slow and precise, so TK kisses his shoulder and heads over to the stove. The kettle is half full, and TK puts it on to boil then gets two mugs out of the cupboard. "I know you hate it, but it sounds like you need one of my dad's herbal teas for that throat."

The sound of chopping stops suddenly, and TK frowns as he turns back to Carlos. "Are you okay there?"

"Uh, yeah." Carlos rests the knife down, his hands starting to shake. "TK, there's something we should talk about."

"Okay." TK steps forward, resting his hand on Carlos' back. "What is it, babe?"

Carlos turns to look at him, tears gathering in those big brown eyes, and TK's chest seizes up.

A broad stripe of purple covers Carlos' neck, just below his Adam's apple, the mottled texture suggesting the bruise is still coming out. There's no obvious swelling, TK notes as the paramedic training kicks in, making him assess the situation like he's on a call. But the size and placement of the mark makes TK worry, because the swelling could all be internal.

"Fuck, Carlos - what happened?" TK says, his own voice as soft as Carlos', when he reaches out to stroke Carlos' cheek. "Who did this to you?"

"A suspect I chased today." Carlos closes his eyes and leans into the touch, gently nuzzling TK's hand. "I had him pinned but I got distracted, and suddenly he'd got me in a chokehold, threatening to kill me if Mitchell didn't let the two of them walk off with the stolen goods."

TK curses under his breath. "How'd that go down?"

A bright glint of happiness shines through the distress in Carlos' eyes as he looks at TK. "I thought of you, and it made me strong enough to jam my elbow in the guy's gut. He let go of me when he had to catch his breath."

They stare at each other, smiling softly until the kettles whistles and ruins the moment.

"Hang on, let me-" TK pulls away, grabbing a potholder so he can lift the kettle off the heat. "And did you get all that checked out? Is there any chance of swelling, or other complications?"

"Yeah, I went to the hospital. They kept me for a few hours, did a couple of scans, and it's all good. Just sore - although the bruising may take 24 hours to fully develop." Carlos rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "They said something about cream for it, but there was so much going on, I don't really remember it all."

"That's okay - I know what they mean." TK presses a kiss to Carlos' cheek and dashes up to the bathroom for the cream. "It's called arnica - it's a natural thing, it helps to heal bruises," He explains, as he heads back down the stairs. "I'm not gonna lie, it'll hurt as I rub it in. But it should stop that from getting any worse, and cut the recovery time down from weeks to days."

Carlos is at the stove, gathering all the ingredients for the stir fry and heating the pan, and TK gently tugs him away. "Okay, leave that. You should rest on the couch, and I'll cook us dinner tonight."

"You, cook?" Carlos reluctantly lets go of the soy sauce and follows TK to the couch. "I'd better have 911 on speed dial."

"Hey, I can cook! I had my own apartment in New York and cooked myself meals all the time." TK pushes Carlos down on the couch and straddles his lap, pinning his patient in position. "But you have done the chopping, which is good. I swear most knives are made for right handed people - they never work properly when I use them."

Carlos chuckles as TK gets the cream ready. "I'm pretty sure knives are universal, unless they have weird han-ow!" Carlos winces, his eyes screwed shut, when TK's fingers touch his bruised skin. "Are you-ow! Are you sure this is gonna help?"

Despite his protests, Carlos stays still and silent after that, letting TK concentrate as he applies the cream to the bruise and the area around it.

"Yes, I am sure," TK says, once he's finished, to answer Carlos' question. "I use this stuff all the time. We get bumped and knocked about during pretty much every shift at work, and this gets rid of them quickly."

"Oh. I thought it was just one of your dad's crazy mother nature things."

TK laughs, because his dad does have a lot of weird natural remedies for almost everything, and most of them don't work. "No, trust me. This one is real."

"In that case..." Carlos grabs the hem of his shirt, and TK gives him a knowing smirk. "I have another bruise, dipshit. Please can you use your amazing medical superpowers on that one too?"

They stand up and rearrange themselves, so Carlos can get his shirt off and TK can see the bruise properly. This one is huge, and spreads across Carlos' shoulder towards his spine and almost down to his elbow on the back of his arm, and TK winces in sympathy. "Yeah, this - this will not be fun."

TK works faster this time, keen to get it over and done with, and finishes with a kiss to the back of Carlos' neck. "There we go, babe," He says, as he helps Carlos stand up and passes over his shirt. "All better."

Carlos smiles, a little shakier than usual, and gives TK a soft peck on the lips. "My hero."