#is this cracker guy going to fight or is he just gonna keep clapping

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Fear

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence; character injury; angst. This one is angsty ‘cause we haven’t had an angsty one yet. Whoops. Notes: The next one will be more chipper, promise. Summary: You’re not ignorant to the fact that what the guys do day in and day out is dangerous. 

Your world doesn’t stop when it happens. 

It feels like it should, but it can’t. You’ve still got shit to do, the rest of an op to help coordinate, even as your insides are squirming and you think you’re going to be sick. You’re not ignorant to the fact that what the guys do day in and day out is dangerous. You worry about all of them, you always tell all of them to be careful.

But that doesn’t matter now, you can’t really dwell on what you have said or what you should’ve said, because you can still hear the odd gunshot coming through your feed and god, what the fuck is going on over there? You can hear Nick telling one of the guys to stay still and Henderson to keep applying pressure. And then Nick is telling you to call in a medic because Borracho has been shot.

--

When you do get to the hospital, the team’s all there. You don’t have to ask; Nick is up and telling you: “He’s in surgery right now. Bullet hit him in the abdomen,” Nick pats the spot on his own torso, on the left, just under his ribs in an approximation, “Doc says he got lucky, it didn’t hit anything vital.”

“It went through his tac vest?” You hiss. 

“We were one short, he gave his to the witness,” Connors grumbles. 

Stupid bastard. Stupid noble bastard. When you see him, you’re gonna kill him. 

You want to ask more, but you hear your name being called. You turn to see Gabriel, Megan, and Borracho’s mom, Regina, coming down the hall. They need answers; you can ask your questions later. --

You don’t register much after the doctor says, “he’s going to be alright,” because that tiny bit of you that’s been ready to kill him this whole time just crumbles. Cause yeah, you’re still out in the waiting room, and you’re still worried, but Borracho was doing his job, and you may or may not already be planning to buy him his own tac vest for Christmas. Maybe L.L. Bean has them and you can get it personalized? “Can we see him?” It’s Gabriel that asks it; you haven’t even bothered, for the simple reason of the doctor’s answering question of, “Are you family?” They are. You’re not. They’re allowed in; Gabriel is already starting down the hall to his brother’s room. Regina and Megan turn back to you, apologies poised on their lips, and you wave them off with a thin smile and tell them that it’s alright, that you’ll see him later, that he needs his family right now. Megan wraps her an arm around her mom’s shoulders and gives you a thankful nod before following Gabriel. You’re alone for a split-second. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the vending machine next to you, and the buzz-crackle-mumbling of someone being called to the O.R. on the hospital’s intercom overhead. Then Nick’s hand is on your shoulder, and he’s telling you that one of them will drive you home. You shake your head, tell him that you can get yourself back. “How’d you get here?” Nick asks. “I… I um…” You drove. You drove, but you barely remember doing it. The guys are watching you, all of them. They’re waiting for the tears. But you’re not going to do that here; besides, they’re just as worried about Borracho as you are. You want to be there for them just as much as they want to be there for you. You can fall apart later. -- Visiting hours are over before the doctor lets anyone but Borracho’s family in to see him, so you and the guys decide to clear out (well, the guys decide to clear out, you know that you’ve gotta go with one of ‘em). Megan does come out to tell you all that he’s stable, and sleeping, that the doctors expect him to only be in for a few days before he’ll be able to come home, barring infection or complications. She promises to text you with updates; you tell her to call if she or the family needs anything - food, clothing, a babysitter - anything. She gives you a tight hug, and when you lean away, a few tears have leaked from her eyes. You reach up and carefully smooth them away, giving her a small smile. “He’s gonna be alright,” You remind her. “He’s gonna be alright,” She repeats back to you, because you both need to be told. -- The ride home is silent. You’re in the passenger seat of your car as Nick drives; Henderson, Zapata and Connors are following in the car that they all rode over in. You’re staring down the dashboard like you could melt it. When Nick pulls up in front of your place, you mumble your thanks. You both get out. Nick doesn’t toss you your keys like he would on another day. He walks around the car, puts them in your hand, claps you on the shoulder and tells you to get some rest. Before he can get in the car with the others, you call out to him. “You get the fucker that did it?” You ask. He nods. You nod in turn before you go inside. That’s been weighing on you. You’ve hadn’t been able to ask at the hospital; you’ve been worried about someone coming back to snag Borracho, maybe finish the job, but if Nick says they’re gone, that means they’re gone. You shut the door behind yourself and look around. Your apartment feels off -- weird. Like someone snuck in and moved everything two inches to the left. It’s a few moments of quiet before you realize how tired your body feels, how hollow. You drag yourself into the bedroom, barely kick off your shoes before you fall onto the bed. You need to rest now. You can fall apart later. -- Henderson seems stunned to see you when you come into the office the next day. He glances at Connors, then Zapata. “If I see money change hands, I’m gonna slap all three of you,” You warn as you lower yourself into your desk chair. The guys turn back to their work. Nick comes over to your desk a few minutes later. “You sleep?” He asks first. You nod. “You see him?” He asks next. You haven’t. He’s still resting; his family has been taking shifts at the hospital, and you wanna be there, you do, but they told you that they’ve got it under control. And fuck, you wanna argue, but you don’t wanna push back on this, not right now, not with them. “He’s in good hands,” Is your answer. “... If you wanna take a day…” Nick almost looks pained as he offers it. You glance up at him. “We still have work to do?” You ask. “Yeah.” “Are you all takin’ a day?” “No.” “Alright then.” You put your headphones in, and you turn your music up, and you fight the urge to look at the little post-it notes you keep in the front of your notebook. -- “Hey, sweetness.” If your eyes had been closed, you almost could’ve almost trick yourself into thinking everything’s normal, the way he mumbles it -- it’s the way he mumbles it when you wake him up in the morning. But you don’t have the beeping of a heart monitor and the harsh bright of overhead lights to contend with in your bedroom.

Regina had warned you that he’s still hopped up on pain meds and pretty tired.  And it’s only been three days, and you know that he lost a lot of blood, but damnit, Borracho looks small and sallow in that hospital bed. “Hey there,” You speak softly as you pull a chair up beside his bed. You're sitting on the right side of him; the chair one on the left is piled high with his mom’s purse and her coat, and one of the niece’s diaper bags. You take his hand in both of yours, a gentle grip, like he’s gonna turn to dust in front of you if you clasp too tight. You haven’t seen him in three days but it’s felt like a fucking year. “How are you feelin’?” You ask. He chuckles, mumbles, “Like I got shot,” And you push out a laugh and give him a smile, because that’s what he needs right now. You can tell him that you hated hearing him say it later. -- “This is payback for when I got that concussion, isn’t it,” Connors grumbles as he grabs his jacket, heading out for the third time that day. Borracho’s on the last day of his first week of desk duty. He’s been home for just as long. “How else are you gonna learn, Connors?” Is Borracho’s answer, and the guys crack up. They laugh, because they’re coping by making light of this, because this wasn’t the first incident, and it won’t be the last. Those are just the facts. And they can make light of this, because Borracho’s in one piece. You can’t, though. You haven’t worn your headphones in the office so much since those first few months at the department. The guys don’t question it; Nick doesn’t push you to interact like he did last time. They just let you at your work. Look, you’re fine. Things are fine. Borracho’s back to being home with you, sleeping in your bed. His stitches have been taken out, they say he’s healing up well. He’s fine. You’re fine. -- “I’ve got it.” You can’t count how many times you’ve said that since he got out of the hospital. Listen, you’re not babying him, it’s just -- well at first, he still had residual pain. And you don’t mind grabbing things for him, you really don’t. So if he was hungry, you’d grab him food, or if he wanted more coffee, you’d get up and get him some. Problem is it’s been about three weeks now and you’re still saying, “I’ve got it.” You can see that it’s starting to wear on him a little bit, but it’s automatic now, you can’t bring yourself to stop trying to help - even when he hasn’t asked you for it. So when you see him reach for something in the cabinet, and he winces just a little at the stretch, you hurry over, and bat his hand away with a mumble of, “I’ve got it.” “Cut it out,” He chuckles. You freeze with your hand wrapped around a box of graham crackers, and turn your head to blink at him. “...I can get things for myself, sweetness,” He adds, softer, “‘Sides, I’ve gotta get used to moving around again. Just lemme grab ‘em. Okay?” You let go of the box and nod, and he pecks your lips before you can step away. You settle back down on the couch, your stomach twisting, your emotions a mottle of uselessness and idiocy. Borracho sits down next to you a few minutes later, slings his arm around your shoulder. You take a nibble of the graham cracker when he holds a piece in front of your mouth. You don’t lean into his side - it’s his left side. You’re sure the spot is still tender, you don’t want to aggravate it, even when Borracho’s arm tightens around you and he tries to coax you closer. -- You blink at the light as it’s flipped on. You’re frowning - for a couple of reasons. The first is that the room that was just dark is now bright as hell. The second is that Borracho is also frowning - at you. “What’s going on?” He asks quietly. “What are you talking about?” You shake your head. He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Come on, you know I know you better than that.” You’d taken your time coming to bed. Borracho had gone in ahead of you, but you’d stayed on the couch, zoning out to some television show you really didn’t care about. He’d been touchy all night - hands skimming over your thigh, your arm, your side; kissing your cheek, your neck. You’d pecked his lips a couple of times, but you hadn’t reciprocated otherwise. Thing is, it’s not just tonight. You’ve barely touched Borracho since he’s been home. You don’t know what it is. It’s not that you don’t want him, you do, you always do, but you just… “You can turn the light back off,” You turn back to the dresser and grab your pajama bottoms, “You should be sleeping.” You cringe when you hear the thud of Borracho’s feet on the floor of your bedroom, and then he’s touching your shoulder and carefully turning you to face him. “What’s going on?” He presses, “Sweetness, I’m sorry if I seemed harsh in the kitchen earlier--” “It’s not that,” You shake your head. “Then what?” He’s looking over your face, “You’ve been acting like I’m about to disappear--” “You scared the shit out of me!” And then you slap your hand over your mouth because fuck. You yelled, and you’d told yourself that you weren’t going to do this. What happened wasn’t his fault - it wasn’t his fault that they didn’t have enough tac vests. He took the initiative to protect their witness. You tell yourself that every time you see that damn scar, every time you see him wince. You shake your head, lowering your eyes from his stunned face. Your eyes are watering and you need to move. You make to step around him, but Borracho gets in your way, and hooks an arm around your middle and hurries to say, “Don’t, hey-- talk to me--” You’re still shaking your head, but you can’t stop the tears now, so Borracho gathers you into his chest as you fall apart against him. Neither of you speak; you can’t, couldn’t even if you tried. He just wraps his arms around you and keeps all of your shattering pieces together. You couldn’t do this before. You felt like you didn’t have permission. The guys needed you to do your job, and then his family had needed you to keep your head, and then-- and then he was out of the hospital and home with you and what was the point of crying about it? You’ve been walking around with panic and pain and worry for a month and the dam has finally fuckin’ broken. When you’ve calmed down a little bit, the two of you crawl into bed. Borracho shuts the light back off. He takes one of your hands and slips it over his side and gently presses it to the puckered skin of the scar. It brings a fresh wave of tears, and you turn your head and press your face into the pillow to hide from him. “I’m sorry, sweetness,” He mumbles, letting you lift your hand away from the scar to rest on his chest, where you can feel his heart beating steadily. You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; you know he’s trying to help, to show you that he’s healing and that he’s alright, but he doesn’t quite know how to. You’re not sure how to make this better, either. “Can you stay home tomorrow?” He whispers the question when you’re half asleep. You sniffle and nod a little bit, and press your face into his neck. You shyly let your hand slide back down to the scar. Your fingers smooth over the raised skin before you settle your palm over it. -- Borracho lowers himself onto the couch beside you, tucking you against his right side as you cradle your mug of coffee. The morning’s been slow. Borracho’s been moving around you like you’re a skittish little thing. You’ve been staying out of his way in the kitchen and the living room and the hall, letting him do things for himself and shaking this urge to be his shadow. “Megan said she didn’t understand how you were so calm the whole time.” “...Well, unfortunately, now you know,” You grumble, looking down into your mug. You’re still embarrassed for yelling; you’ve apologized three times now. Borracho’s hand runs up and down your shoulder. He’s patient, quiet. You finally manage, “I’ve never… Been with anyone that puts themselves in danger like this every day. When it happened, I was in work mode, and then when I got to the hospital, I was just...I don’t know, I was trying to find ways to fix it, cause… Cause when it happened, I wasn’t anywhere near you, I couldn’t do anything. And then I couldn’t see you at the hospital, since I wasn’t family,” You feel Borracho tense up beside you, but he doesn’t stop you, “But I could run errands for your mom, or look after your sisters’ kids, or grab Isobel coffee, something. That helped. It was distracting. And then we were back in the office and you guys kept joking about it, and-- and I know, I get it, you guys have to sometimes, but I just couldn’t.” You shut up, biting down on your lips as you feel tears springing up again. You don’t know how; you could’ve sworn you’d cried everything out last night. Borracho doesn’t interrupt you still, just squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. “I’m sorry I babied you so much when you got home,” You add once you’re sure you’ve pushed the tears away, “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve had something like this happen. I was trying to fix that, too.” “You weren’t babying me...At first.” He’s teasing you now, and you’re smiling a little despite yourself. Borracho presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “There’s my girl.” “And I’m sorry for yelling.” “I know, sweetness.” “But I will probably yell again if you ever do a dumbass thing like removing your tac vest again.” “Understood.” “And the guys. They will not escape my wrath, either.” “Your wrath?” “My wrath.” 

[itsbumbleby]

bumblebee week day 3: wedding/proposal

y’all should be grateful for this one because i’ve been stuck for the last three hours then it glitches out while i was in the middle of working on it and i had to start over. so please! enjoy :)

today was the day.

the day that they would be each other’s forever. blake and yang were getting ready now while everyone began to arrive. it would be a small wedding, they didn’t want a big one.

the ceremony would be beautiful, due to weiss’ hard work. currently they were finishing with setting up.

“ruby!! i said PURPLE on the tables with double digits and YELLOW on the single digits!” weiss yelled from the buffet table. “w- SHIT! let me do it.” weiss said as she walked over to the table ruby was at. “weissss! no!!” ruby said as she wrapped her arms around the back of the taller girls waist.

weiss huffed and turned around so ruby’s face was now burried in her chest. she rested her head on ruby’s, “you’re a pain, you know that?” ruby laughed, “but you love me.” weiss looked at her lovingly, “yeah. and this will be us soon. as soon as i get the damn ring fixed that SOMEONE broke.” she said, lifting her head in the direction of jaune, who was setting up the chairs.

he looked up, feeling weiss staring at him. “how many times do i have to say that it WAS NOT ME AND IT WAS ZWEI!?”

“my ass.” weiss mumbled under her breath. ruby untangled herself, putting her thumb under weiss’ chin, “this wedding is going to be the best one ever. because you’re planning it. yang and blake will be stunned, believe me.” ruby comforted, leaning in slowly. weiss closed her eyes and leaned in as well.

the kiss was soft and short, giving weiss some determination. “now come on, i only have a few more flowers to set up.” weiss nodded and walked back over to the buffet table.

“wow you guys!” nora said, walking in with ren, “this looks amazing! they’ll love it.” weiss smiled and checked some things off of her clipboard. nora and ren walked around for a minute, admiring all the colorful flowers.

“need any help?” ren asked, walking over to weiss and putting hand on her shoulder. “no, no it’s ok, ruby and i got it. thank you though.” ren nodded.

“i’m going to go check on yang! ren go check on blake.” nora said, practically bounding with excitement. “got it.” he said, going the opposite way as she did.

nora walked down a long hallway covered in weird paintings with very few colors and lots of swirlys. she finally found a room that was labeled “yang” so she knocked on the door, hearing a muffled come in!

she opened the door and closed it behind her, seeing yang in front of the mirror buttoning up her collared shirt. “hey!!” yang said happily, walking over to nora and giving her a hug. “hello ms wedding day!!!” nora said playfully, “how do i look??” yang asked, fixing the collar.

nora stepped back and looked at what she was wearing; a white collared shirt tucked into some yellow flowing pants. “it looks so nice! i love it.” yang smiled, “i just need to put on this coat and fix my hair a little bit. AND put on all of these necklaces weiss told me would look nice, then i’ll be ready.” yang said, stepping back to look at all of the things set out for her on the couch, exhaling.

“this is a lot.” yang said, looking to the red head with nervous eyes. “want some help there, fire cracker?” nora asked with a chuckle. “please.”

they both laughed loudly, then finished up with yang’s attire.

at the other side of the hotel, ren was in the elevator seeing a text from weiss saying that blake was one floor above yang so they wouldn’t sneak to see each other before the ceremony. it was something they would do.

the elevator dinged and ren got off, checking to see which room number blake was in. 43, so he walked down the hallway, looking for number 43.

39, 41, 43! he knocked on the door, which had a little label on it saying “blake” and waited for her to say he could come in. “oh, come in.” blake said, ren opened the door. “hey wedding girl!” he said happily. blake’s face lit up and she walked over to give him a hug.

“how’re you feeling?” ren whispered, rubbing her shoulders in comfort. blake shlyly smiled, “i’m nervous?” she said, looking up at him. “yeah? well guess what? the ceremony is beautiful. it’s amazing! you two are gonna love it. and yang? god, she’s so happy. you two are made for each other. this wedding is gonna be the best, i know it.” he stepped back to take a look at her dress.

it was a lavender lacey dress, the top of it covered in what looked like little pink roses. “does it look ok? should i change into the other one? oh my god you’re right, the other one looked so much better! i should’ve chosen the other one-” she rambled, “blake! it looks amazing. calm down. there’s noting to worry about.”

“you’re right, i’m sorry. i just....” she sat down, “i can’t believe this is happening.” ren smiled, “everything is gonna turn out great.” blake nodded, looking over at the table that had a little silver bumblebee necklace with an added charm with a ‘y’ for yang.

“let’s finish getting ready, yeah?” ren asked, helping her up. “yeah.” blake breathed out.

•••

an hour later, everyone was finished getting ready. all the guests arrived and the girls were about to walk the aisle — well, blake was about to walk the aisle. yang’s nerves were through the roof, she was ecstatic.

“would everyone please rise!” ironwood said. yang and blake asked him to marry them, he was part of what started then off after all.

yang turned around, hearing the wedding music playing. the doors opened, ghira walking out with blake on his arm. yang’s breath caught in her throat, blake looked breathtaking. she covered her mouth with her hands, not being able to contain herself.

ruby looked at yang, winking at her and mouthing “you got this” and looking to blake, smiling.

she walked down the aisle, keeping eye contact with yang the whole time.

she finally got there, kissing her dad in the cheek and taking his seat next to kali and taiyang.

the ceremony began.

fast forward to their vows, the best part.

“yang. for the past eight years of my life, you’ve been with me. who knew from the first day in atlas when you came up to me and introduced yourself even though i pushed you away that i’d be here? i didnt know it but i’m forever grateful. over the years we’ve grown. we’ve gotten stronger, defeated the worst and celebrated.” she paused, remembering when they killed adam — where everything truly began — “when we arrived in atlas for the second time, bringing the relic that’s when everything really began. i still remember the look on your face when i told you how i felt - how much you mean to me and i remember the feeling of absolute joy when you told me you felt the same way. i’ll never forget all of the memories that i’ve made with you over the years. i love you forever, my warrior. i cant wait to open this new chapter in our lives.”

everyone clapped, some wiped their tears. yang squeezed blake’s hand, mouthing an i love you too before beginning her vows.

“wow,” she said, chuckling. “has it really been 8 years? it feels like just yesterday that i fell in love with this amazing, strong, brave, beautiful girl and decided to fight by her side. through thick and thin, you’ve been there for me. every time. i cant tell you how many times you’ve saved me from my darkest places. with my mother, my arm... even finding out that i can’t have children. you stuck by my side. when we defeated adam, i truly felt our connection grow stronger than it ever had been. when we went to atlas, is for even stronger. and we grew into a couple that everyone told us we should’ve been a long time ago. i’m glad that we started there, i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew i felt something with you the first time i saw you, and now here we are... getting married after we both proposed with the same ring on the same day - weiss and ruby laughed at that one for a while, telling us how connected we are. and now i’m here, getting to marry the love of my life. my light, my strong girl. i love you.”

another round of applause, as they looked at each other with fondness, smiles on their faces.

ironwood finished, saying his last words. “yang xiao long, do you take blake to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

yang looked to blake, tilting her head. “i do.” ironwood smiled. “and blake belladonna, do you take yang to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

blake smiled, “i do.”

“alright then,” ironwood began. “you may now kiss the bride.”

blake jumped foreword, launching herself to yang who caught her just in time before they fell to the ground. it was a deep, passionate kiss filled with all of their love from the past 8 years.

yang pulled back, brushing a strand of hair out of blake’s face and behind her ear, putting their foreheads together.

“i love you, mrs. xiao long-belladonna. so much.” she whispered, so only she and blake could hear it. “i love you more, yang.”