#limping along just trying to walk from one department to the other at work

[swearbunny]

I am going to kill "God"

For designing such an inefficient machine as the human body...

[lsd-astronaut]

Hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you do a fluffy Crowley x Demon!reader x Aziraphale fic (or headcanons)??

Maybe something like what it’s like all being in a relationship together?

(Also if it’s not too much to ask can the reader use a cane to walk around? Maybe because of something relating to when they fell and became a demon? If not that’s okay!!!)

First of all, I love you and I could kiss you in the mouth right now. I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THAT CROWLEY WOULD HAVE CHRONIC PAIN BC OF THE FUCKING FALL. I refuse to believe for one moment that you can fall all the way from Heaven, land on the ground and be all “hey guys i’m fine!”

Aziraphale x Demon!Reader x Crowley

Please like and reblog<3

Warnings: chronic pain, but nothing else, this is just good old fluff

• You were an archangel along with Crowley, with the same obligations in making the cosmos✨ so you both met Aziraphale at the same time

• When Azi told you both that the project was destined to close in a few thousand years, you were the one that proposed to fill a complain to God (and crowley seconded you)

• Cue a war and a Fall later, Crowley and you are in Hell, but in different departments so you don’t see each other much

• In fact, you didn’t see Azi and Crowley for the first time since the Fall until the crucifixion of Jesus

• You stood beside them in silent reverence to this poor soul lost for all of humanity

• “What sort of mother would wish this fate upon her own kin?” Crowley and Azi turned to you with confused expressions (although Crowley gained a lot of respect for that comment hehe)

• After some idle conversation, and Crowley convincing Aziraphale not to just smite you right there and then, you three decide to traverse the world

• Centuries pass, and Crowley and you stay around humans (you love their way of living, and he likes children so everyone wins)

• You like to read everything you can get your hands on, to Crowley’s chagrin

• “Now I have two bookworms. What have I done to deserve this?”

• It’s circa the year 1000, in the new continent that these curious people called Vikings have discovered, when Crowley and you decide to experiment a human thing that you had wanted to try for a long time

• Your first kiss is messy, and there are more teeth than anything else; besides Crowley insists it feels slimey

• However, she can’t help but to accept he got a bit aroused by it

• Practice makes better, as they say, and so you do

• Although you spend the most time with Crowley, your relationship with Aziraphale also evolves throughout the years

• The “we have a mutual but I still don’t like you” to “maybe I do care about you” pipeline, if you want

• You take him to all kind of food places and bookstores, and he warms up to you a lot

• Introducing him to classical music was your proudest moment, and also the pettiest as Crowley had crossed you a bit beforehand

• The first time you kiss Aziraphale (or rather, he does), is one time you both were a bit tipsy during a masquerade ball in Paris in the 18th century

• He is a bit unexperienced but he gets the hang out of it really quick

• The three of you “confess” to each other in 1941, after the magic show fiasco

• Crowley looks nonchalant but you can see behind his eyes, he was worried sick he would be separated from both of you

• You make sure to give him extra cuddles that night

• Fast forward to 2008 and you work in Warlock’s house along with Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, you being Warlock’s governess (like this is the fucking 1800s or smth lmao)

• It is at this time that the two of them notice you limping a bit every day after all chores have been done

• You insist that it is nothing and that you are perfectly capable of walking

• However, Ashtoreth happens to see you during one of your bad flares

• She immediately helps you to sit down on the bed, and looks at you expecting an explanation

• Her no-nonsense glare deters you from making up an excuse so you tell her the whole truth

• When you had fallen, you hadn’t landed correctly and had broken your legs on impact

• Miracles hadn’t done the full job and so you had been forced to endure the pain of the bones repairing themselves not quite right

• You had learned to mask the pain after centuries of practice but some days were just worse than others

• The next day, Ashtoreth gifts you a cane adorned with a snake head with little wings

• You proudly use it every day forward

• After the Second Coming, the three of you go to live in South Downs, finally able to be yourselves together

• There is still so much stuff to learn about everything, but you’re immortal and you are not alone, so why the hurry?

• As the sun sets on the horizon, you lean your head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reads one of Jane Austen’s books, and Crowley’s head is on your lap, already snoring softly

• You will be okay

I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if this is not what you asked for exactly as it is my first time writing for these two and I haven’t written either in two years so I feel I’m very rusty. I forgot ab the chronic pain until almost at the end, and I talk more about the history of you relationship than the actual relationship in itself lmao

Still, I hope you like it!

[topguncortez]

Day 11: "911, what's your emergency?" ➣prompt: Self done first aid ➣character: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson ➣warnings: injuries, mentions of domestic violence, blood, bruises, motorcycle crash, self inflicted injuries ➣word count: 1.6k

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

Beau Simpson was a man of many things; confidence, anger, jealousy. The biggest one had to be a man of pride. Beau was very prideful of himself and his accomplishments, which he had a right to be. It wasn’t everyday that the Department of Defense places trust in someone to run a whole training school for the best of the best. Most days he loved his job, it was less taxing than being a young airman and having to be ready to be deployed at the drop of a hat. He was able to finally settle down with the person he loved. 

Beau had always thought he was going to marry his high school sweetheart and have a couple of kids. And he did get that. . . but it didn’t last long. He was heartbroken after the divorce. He had moved out of his wife’s house into a small three bed closer to base. And that’s when he met Y/N. The young nurse who lived next door to him. She was about 25, and had just gotten her first nursing job on base. Beau had met her when she was doing the yearly flu shot clinic. He had recognized her from the early morning runs that she went on. She would be just arriving home when he was heading out to work. 

After that day, they began talking to each other, nothing past the friendly “hi, how are you” whenever they saw each other outside. Beau wanted to ask her out, but there was something in his mind that stopped him. Maybe it was the fact that she was nearly twenty years younger than him. He could sometimes hear the small parties she would have with her friends in her backyard, or when she would come home drunk from the bars, or see some man doing the walk of shame out her front door in the morning. Beau wanted things that he thought she probably wasn’t ready for. 

Beau sighed as he parked his car in the driveway, and cut the ignition. It was a long day of dealing with Pete Mitchell’s antics. He knew the reputation that came with the pilot, and he hated it. Beau wasn’t one for reckless behavior, he had no time for it. He glanced over at the drive next to his, and noticed Y/N’s car was sitting in the driveway. He furrowed his eyebrows, usually it was her motorcycle that was there. He hated that thing. It made his stomach drop every time he watched her pull out on it. She also refused to wear a helmet, telling him once that it takes away from the cool factor. 

Getting out of his car, he grabbed his duffle bag and headed for his front door. Beau had barely had the key in the door when he heard a weak voice call out his name. He turned around and dropped the bag in his hands, and ran down the steps to the injured girl in front of him. 

“What the hell happened?” He said, looking her over. She had cuts, scrapes, and bruises  all along her body.

“I took a tumble on the bike,” She smiled. Even while injured she still looked amazing, “This uh. . . won’t stop bleeding.” She lifted up her shirt to expose the bandage that was on her side that was soaked in blood. 

“Oh my god.” 

“I don’t have much more than paper towels and kleenex. Kinda bad for a nurse, I know,” Y/N laughed. 

“Come inside, I have a first aid kit,” Beau said, and Y/N nodded. She had a slight limp in her walk. Beau kept his hand behind her, following her gait up to the door. She winced as she walked up the steps, and Beau pushed the door open, “Here, come to the kitchen.” 

“Nice house,” She breathed out as she moved to the kitchen. 

“Can you get up on the counter?” Beau asked her, setting down his duffle bag. 

“I. . . fuck, no,” Y/N sighed after trying to jump up. Beau wordlessly walked over to her, and lifted her on the counter. She groaned slightly, and Beau turned on the overhead lights. She looked even worse in the light. He could see the dirt that was on her face and in her cuts. She had a large scrape that seemed to go from her head all the way down her body. 

“Did you fall or get run off?” 

“Fucking grass clippings on the street,” She cursed, “It’s like walking on ice. Lost control and skidded across the road.” 

“You work at a hospital?” 

“And?” 

“Why didn’t you go?” Beau called out as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He was suddenly thankful that his ex-wife had told him to buy one. 

“Too much paperwork. Believe me, I know,” Y/N rolled her eyes as Beau came back down the hallway. He set the first aid kit down next to her, and gently touched her face looking over the injuries. She winced and he clenched his jaw, “Nothing needs stitches. I just need band aids. Tape and kleenex isn’t cutting it anymore.” 

“Did you even clean these?” 

“Soap and water, best method,” She smiled at him. Beau rolled his eyes, and took a step back from her. She watched as he undid his khaki dress shirt, taking it off and standing in front of her in his slacks and undershirt. He grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a cotton ball. 

“This is gonna hurt,” He announced and Y/N nodded. She gritted her teeth as he placed the cotton ball on her face. As Beau kept cleaning her up, he could see more than just the new scrapes and blood on her face. She had bruises in various stages of healing on her body. Some were on the opposite side of the current injuries. When he got done cleaning her face and arms, it was time to address the large injury on her stomach. 

“I need to look at the wound on your stomach,” Beau said softly, and Y/N nodded. The shirt she was wearing wasn’t the same one from the accident, so it hurt less to take it off. Y/N winced as she pulled the shirt over her head, and Beau winced at the sight in front of him. Her skin looked like it had been burned by the road, and he could see small pieces of gravel still stuck to it. 

“And you thought you had it easy,” Y/N chuckled. 

Beau was concerned about the scrape, but he was also concerned about the large purple bruise on the other side of her body, “You got this from the accident too?” His fingers gently ghosted over the bruise. Y/N sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Yeah,” She said shortly, “Please just. . . clean this one.” Beau nodded, knowing not to push her. 

Beau frowned looking at her, “I need you to lay down.” Y/N nodded and Beau helped her lay down flat on the counter. He grabbed his khaki dress shirt, and folded it, giving her something to place her head on. It wasn’t much, but she smiled at him. She clenched her fist as he began to clean the scrape. It hurt worse than it did earlier, but she was thankful that Beau was willing to clean it. He grimaced as pulled away some of the kleenex she had used to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Why didn’t you ask your boyfriend to do this?” Beau asked. 

“Tyler?” She scoffed, “Yeah, I would’ve actually bled out on the floor of my house.” 

“He wouldn’t do this?” Beau asked again, this time looking up at her face. Her eyes were set at the ceiling and she clenched her jaw. Beau had only seen this ‘Tyler’ once or twice, and both times he hated the sight. The first time, Y/N was kicking him out of her house, throwing his clothes at him as he yelled back at her. Beau wanted to say something, but refrained. The second time, he had just seen Tyler, walking angrily to his car, slamming the door shut and taking off down the road. Beau had his kids over that time, and really couldn’t say anything. The next day he saw Y/N wincing as she walked to the mailbox. 

“No,” She said shortly, again, “He wouldn’t do this. . . “ She looked down at Beau, and their eyes met. Her words had a deeper meaning and Beau looked back at the bruise on her rib cage. It was as if she could read Beau’s mind, she pushed herself up from lying down, and reached for her shirt, “He’s a good person.” 

“If he’s hitting you, he’s not a good person,” Beau said, grabbing her wrist gently. He looked down at it, and could see the faint outline of bruising. 

“He gets mad sometimes.” 

“This wasn’t an accident was it?” Y/N looked away from Beau, trying to hide the tears running down her cheeks. Beau didn’t say anything but pulled her into his arms in a hug. She clung to him and cried, pressing her face into his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she cried, and shushed her. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, pulling away from him, “I got blood on your shirt.” 

“You know how many of these things I have?” Beau said, and Y/N chuckled. He wiped a tear from her cheek, “Let me finish patching this up, okay?” Y/N nodded and Beau guided her back down on the counter. He worked in silence as he cleaned the wound on the stomach, then applied a bandage. He helped her sit back up on the counter, and slipped her shirt back on over her head, “Are you hungry?” 

“Kinda,” She said softly. 

“Perfect, how does chicken carbonara sound?” 

“Amazing.”

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Found - Rudy, Mason, and Clyde

The end! Of the arc! Whooo this has been fun! Thanks to all who read. (i'm not down with them as oc's but this arc is over.)

TW: whumper as caretaker, stressed whumper/caretaker, distant whumper/caretaker, drugging tw, implied changing of clothes, implied bathing,

[Masterlist] [Stalker Arc Tag]

Mason was sitting at his desk, vigorously typing an email to the support of every social media platform he could. They weren’t giving him anything, even though he knew that they had the information. They must - companies are always doing shit like that. Tracking. Monitoring. They knew who this creep was and they were protecting them.

At this point, he was ready to get his lawyer involved if he got yet another generic-reply email.

Clyde was curled under his desk. He hadn’t done that in years, not since he was new and very attached to his new Master. Mason trained it out of him a while ago, but something about the familiar place was safe for him right now. So, Mason allowed it.

His phone rang and he reached for it automatically. There had been a lot of calls over the last couple days, and he was nearly fed up with them.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mason Driver?”

He took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It is, who is speaking?”

“Hi this is Amber from the Lakefield Pet Shelter? We have your pet here-”

Mason stood quickly, accidentally kicking Clyde in the process. “Ah, fuck, sorry bud. Is he okay? Who brought him in? Is he hurt? Where is Lakefield I want to come pick him up-”

“Sir, sir, please slow down. He’s okay, he’s got a sprained ankle and is a little roughed up in general, but he’s okay. You can come pick him up at any time, someone from the local department already came and spoke to him.”

A strange sense of anger swelled in him for a moment that someone questioned his pet without him there, but he shoved it away quickly. Other things to focus on, other things he had to do. The woman was still talking but Mason was distracted looking for his keys.

“Can I pick him up tonight? Now?”

There was a small pause. “Yes, Mr. Driver, you can come get him tonight.” After a couple other bits of information, Mason left the house to go get his pet.

Clyde crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his sore hand, a bit confused but hopeful he was understanding half the conversation correctly.

~~

The first thing Mason felt when he saw Rudy hobble out to meet him was relief. Relief that he was back, he was safe, that he was here. Then it was anger. Anger and resentment at the brace around the boy’s ankle, the wraps around his wrists and neck, the bandaids on his face. He had to force his face to remain happy and neutral when he saw the bruise on Rudy’s temple.

“Master!” he cried, nearly falling into the kneeling man’s arms. Mason held him close, arms wrapped around.

“Rudy, thank fucking god you’re okay. I was so worried, oh my god. When I find out who took you I’m gonna-”

“Y-you, you know him, Master,” came Rudy’s muffled voice and Mason pulled him away, held tight by his shoulders.

“What?! Who, who the hell would do that? Someone that I know?”

“It was C-Casey, Master.”

Mason’s face grew grave, clenching his teeth. He should have fucking known. Of course, of fucking course Casey would pull some shit like this. Obviously Mason had called out of work, didn’t care what was going on back at the office during the few days Rudy was gone.

Rudy whimpered and Mason released his right grip. “Oh, I’m sorry Sweetheart. God, that fucking snake. I’m going to ruin his whole goddamn life, just wait and see if I don’t completely blacklist him. He’ll never fucking work with pets again.”

“Sir,” hinted one of the workers, reminding Mason of the other people in the lobby. He didn’t care.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

The worker nodded and gestured for them to come up to the counter. “He’s ready to go, just need to go over some paperwork and at home care for the other injuries.”

Rudy pressed himself into Mason side as the man’s brow furrowed. “Other injuries? What happened?”

“He’s a little bit dehydrated, but that should go away in a day or two. The bandages around his wrists and neck are to keep him at scratching at the healing skin, so you’ll need to keep those and on use this ointment that’s listed here. Same for the welts on his back. His ankle is sprained but not too badly, so follow up with your regular provider for that. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

Mason swallowed and signed the forms without another word, not trusting himself to say something he’d regret. Besides, it wasn’t their fault.

On the way out, he was already calling his lawyer to get every medical expense taken out of Casey - money or blood.

~~

Clyde was at the door, bouncing at his heels as the key turned. He had been looking out the window, saw when they pulled up. Saw when Rudy got out of the car! He was limping but he was there. He was home.

The older pet nearly knocked him over as they came through the door. Mason had to grab him by the back of his collar to drag him off.

“Clyde! Back! You know better what the hell,” Mason muttered, setting him down on the ground a foot or two away. Clyde looked up at him, clearly wanting to go back to Rudy. Mason rubbed his temples, too tired and frustrated and betrayed to deal with this.

“Room.”

Both boys whimpered, Rudy tugging on the hem of Mason’s shirt to silently plead him not to. “Now, Clyde. He’s fine. Just go upstairs so you’re not underfoot.”

Clyde gave him such wide, hurt, miserable eyes that Mason nearly took it all back. He sighed, but held firm. He said what he said and Clyde needed to obey that. With another glance back at his friend. Clyde crept up the stairs. Rudy whined after him over Mason's shoulder as the man picked him up and carried him to the living room to set him on the couch.

The boy whimpered as Mason walked away, but quieted after a shush.

Mason stood in the kitchen, holding onto the counter and stared at the tile backsplash. Why was this so hard? Rudy was back, he was going to be fine, the police found Casey and his lawyer said his case was good over the phone. He shouldn’t feel so tense, so tight-wound and anxious. The boy was right out there - why couldn’t Mason accept it?

He rubbed a hand across his short stubble and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, along with a drink for Rudy. He just needed time, he guessed. Needed to sleep, and probably eat something, and he’d calm down. Meandering back into the living room, he texted his boss that he was taking some personal time off.

Rudy was curled up on against the armrest, tears bright in his eyes. Mason regretted snapping at him, at both of them, but it would pass. They probably wouldn’t even remember tomorrow.

“Hey bud, drink up. How are you feeling, are you hurting?” He asked as he opened the lid for him.

The boy grabbed the bottle and took a sip, nodding slowly. “I, I’m okay.” His lip was quivering, breath shallow and shaky.

“I missed you,” he confessed as he broke, reaching up for Mason who immediately sat down with him. “I m-missed you s-so much, and Clyde, and h-home, I wanted to get away. I was so scared and c-confused and he was mean and hurt me and-”

Mason shushed him gently, pulling him close and petting his hair. “I know, I know Sweetheart. I’m so sorry that happened - I promise, it will never happen again.”

“He wrote on m-my, my scan-y thing,” Rudy said, itching at the side of his shirt. “And, and he took my collar and made me wear a muzzle that cut my mouth and I didn’t eat because- because I just couldn’t and-”

Mason shushed him again, and this time took his drink so he could really lay the boy down. Poor thing was spiraling, clearly over-stressed and exhausted too. “Shh, Rudy, you need to relax. You’re okay.”

“-he, he made me so confused, Master,” Rudy continued, seemingly unable to stop confessing everything that had happened. “I-I know I belonged to you, because, because of m-my collar and my chip but he made me wear his collar and I started to get confused and forget and uh, hng, I, I think I might have called him Master once and I’m sorry! He wasn’t always bad and one time he pet my hair and I tried to struggle but I didn’t that time and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay woah bud you need to slow down. You’re okay, you don’t have to talk about all this right now. I know, I know.” A pause as Mason thought. “Do I need to get something to calm you down?”

“I think I was bad?” Rudy started again, rubbing his eyes and hiccuping. He wasn’t listening to what Mason was saying, which was a kind of answer in itself. He was just more convinced of his choice as when he stood, the boy kept muttering confessions to himself. He’d have to re-visit some training in the next couple days, he reconned, just to correct some thoughts that asshole had implanted.

Rudy took the pill unusually well, words petering out until he was quiet. Mason rubbed his head just the way he knew the boy loved, listening to the unconscious hums of contentment.

“Lets get you to bed early tonight, hm? We’ll deal with all this in the morning.”

He seemed much heavier, now that he was out of it. Mason still got him upstairs, sat him on the bathroom counter to clean him up a little. It also gave him a better chance to see Rudy’s injuries without the boy wiggling and squirming everywhere.

It made his blood boil.

He had seen worse, he had definitely seen worse just walking down the street but that didn’t fucking matter. Rudy was his, and he had not given permission for someone to treat his pet like this. The muzzle had clearly been too tight, chafing and rubbing the sides of his face raw. Same for the collar, and the scratch marks from where Rudy had been clearly trying to get it off. Bruises on his hands and knees, what seemed like a bit of blood in his hair.

Mason cleaned him up the best he could, until the only proof left visible were the bandages and bandaids. He changed those, too, to some colorful ones he had for the boys. Rudy would like those better when he was awake.

After changing him into his pajamas, Mason carried him to his own bedroom and put him on the bed. He sighed and went to go get Clyde.

Clyde was in his room, standing in his pajamas right by the door. The boy had obviously been crying, gently cradling his bruised hand. Mason picked it up carefully, examining it.

“Shit, did I do that, Bugs?” he said, convicted. Clyde didn’t really answer him, eyes glancing from him to the door repeatedly. Mason sighed with a tired smile.

“Yeah, go see him.”

In a flash the boy was gone, down the hall to be with his friend. Mason turned the light off in their room before he went to join them.

Finally, back together. As they should be.

~

tag: @whumpingredroses @as-a-matter-of-whump @albino-whumpee @whumpeesblog @suspicious-whumping-egg

[daisies-and-buttercups]

Day 10 /bonus!/ Nightmares - Luca Changretta

Summary: Grief can come in many forms, and for some, it’s nightmares. 

A/N: thank you so much @potc4life for your request 💖 I really enjoyed focusing on this side of Luca (which hopefully worked out), so I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it 💕

Words: 1.1k

September prompts here

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

He woke up, his hands flying forward, trying to grab onto his brother, his fingers struggling to find the material in the dark, before his movements came to a halt, the dream now getting away from him and leaving him fully awake. They were gone, he was aware of that, but every night he still dreamt of them, their faces alternating between dreams, the memory of better times or of cold deaths printed behind his eyelids.

He wished he had the strength to deal with it better, control his emotions, but the lack of sleep was starting to take a toll on his days, and the fear of closing his eyes was weighing on his nights, the constant battle exhausting.  People dismissed his behaviour, knowing that not only he was still dealing with grief, but the plan of heading to Birmingham was nearing its end, the departing date set two days from now, yet another thing weighing on the man. He had it all planned out, every document ready, every man on call, ready to board the ship, but the lack of sleep made every little thing so much more complicated.  He spent the day looking over everything again, stuck in the same place as he had been for hours. That night he fell asleep, his eyes burning, his mind trying to keep up with his attempts of staying distracted, of thinking of anything but the nightmares that were plaguing him.

His eyes opened, the cold floor pressing hard against his cheek. He could smell it, the scent of blood, but he couldn’t move. The voices were unclear, yet loud, close to him, the only thing that he heard was the gunshot that rang next to him, his fathers body falling limp next to him, his eyes right before his own.  Another gunshot was heard, a gasp escaping someone’s lips, a body falling behind him, this time, and even without seeing it he knew it was Angel’s. 

He opened his eyes, the feelings still choking him as they had in the dream. He looked at his hands, the way they shook, making him look weak. He wasn’t, he knew, but ever since he was a little boy he knew the way he had to look, act, and dress, to earn respect. And shaking hands wasn't part of the package. “Fuck.”  He thought of his mother, alone, the question he was too afraid to ask still in his mind. A knock on the door alerted him, making him sit up, ignoring the annoyance that he felt in his chest. He wanted to be alone, still shaken up from the dream.  “Come in.” He waited, watching as Matteo came in, the light from the hall seeping into the room, staining everything with its yellow tinge. “Boss, I’ve-“ he paused, holding the papers tighter. “Is everything alright?”  “What are you talking about, Matteo?” He sighed, standing and looking out of the window, watching the first people line the streets, the road near the port getting ready for the fish market, each stand carefully filled with the freshest fish. “You’re crying.” Matteo wasn’t sure if speaking those words out loud was a smart idea, but he’d been working with Luca for years now, and he cared for him. Seeing him cry was a first, though, and he wasn’t fully sure about how to act.  Luca stood still, hearing those foreign words. His hand reached up to his eyes, feeling the wetness that lingered under them, the remnants of a tear. “I had a nightmare.” He muttered, his hand still there, as if trapped. “Oh.” Matteo waited, lighting a light and closing the door behind him, knowing that the last thing you want in a moment of weakness is for people to see you. He didn’t count himself within those people, staying in the room along his side for support. “Grief is… hard.” He tried, not really knowing what to say. “Yeah, no shit, Matteo.”  Luca’s tone was bitter, harsh, but he didn’t mean to be.  “You’ll get over it.” “That’s not what you say.” “I… I never had to comfort someone through grief.” “Then don’t. I can go ahead without you.” Silence fell over the room once more, Luca’s hands rubbing his lips in thought, the feeling of tiredness picking at his brain, making his words harsher than he wanted, or less calculated than usual. He had known Matteo for years, after he had joined as a soldier for the Changrettas and, eventually, became a good friend, growing close to everyone in the family while still keeping his distance.  “I apologise.” he sighed, turning to look at Matteo, “you were trying to help. Thanks.” There was some sarcasm in his voice, but Matteo pretended not to notice, thinking of what to say next. Death was something they saw often, every day, some weeks, but he never had to comfort someone. Himself, once, but it didn’t count, cause he had no words for himself. Just liquor.  “I just want to get this over with. I see them every night in my dreams, y’know? Their deaths, each night, different. But I’m always there, aren’t I? Since I wasn't there when it happened, it only seems fair, doesn’t it?” “You’re not to blame.”  “But they are. The Shelby’s. They’ll pay.” “They will.” he nodded, grabbing the closest chair and moving it so that he could sit, feeling like that was a better choice than standing. “I need you to promise me something, Matteo.” “Yeah?”  “There’s one question that keeps popping in my head, y’know?” he picked the small box of matchsticks, placing one between his lips, “I think about my mother. If I don’t come back-” “Luca.” “If I don’t come back,” he repeated, throwing him a warning glance, “you take care of her, you hear? She’ll have no one. No sons, no husband, no one to take care-” he felt the tears come this time, filling his eyes at the idea of his mother completely alone. She could take care of herself, but she shouldn’t. She deserved better.  “I’ll take care of her, if you don’t come back. But,” he stood, approaching Luca with a soft smile, trying to comfort him as well as he could, “you will come back. Trust me.”  He hummed, nodding at his words, not really believing them, something in his gut telling him that there was no guarantee that he would come back, but no intention of breaking the younger man’s hopes with his pessimism.  “Let’s get these sons of bitches.” he spoke, a motivation for both of them. It was still early, too early to start the day, but there was no other thing to do. So guns in hand, they walked out, gathering the documents they needed for their entry in England, waiting for the men that would join them for the vendetta.  Luca looked at Matteo, sharing a knowing look, and lowered his hat, heading towards the port.  “Let’s get these sons of bitches” he repeated, only for himself this time. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 6 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.5k

tw: none

masterlist

The steady burst of snow is burning your hands.

You're frozen to the bones. And all you can hear is the chattering of your teeth as you drag the limp body of your Leviathan down the shambles of a road that once led you to freedom, to success.

Your eyes snap open as you pull yourself out of the nightmare, clutching at your shaking form underneath the sheets. You stretch your arm out behind you to feel for the man you gave yourself to the night before but find nothing but empty space.

Had you imagined the whole thing?

The grey sheets are tucked so neatly around you, and the nightstand is devoid of any of your trinkets that you know you're not in your own room. Something clatters in the kitchen, and you hear Suguru curse, making you get up and toss off the sheets. Before your hand reaches for the doorknob, you notice your lack of clothing and grab the bathrobe hanging from a hook by the door. You tie the massive cotton item around yourself and fling the door open, not bothering to fix your hair before walking into the living room.

Before you can peek into the kitchen, a pair of blue eyes catch your visage and looks twice before a smile spreads across Gojo's face.

"Aw, shit. Yuki said you were wasted, but I didn't think-- I knew you had it in you, Su, but damn..."

Suguru appears a second later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and catching you in his bathrobe, standing in shock in the living room. "Oh, y/n," he murmurs, and pushes his bangs out of his face. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry about the noise; I was trying to cook breakfast."

"No, it's okay," you whisper, and he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes roving over your figure clad in his bathrobe.

"Looks good on you."

"Yo, can you quit flirting and hurry up? I have to brief you two on your next mission before Toji tries to beat me to the pool hall."

"Right," you sit across from Gojo on the couch, and Suguru turns off the stove to sit next to you. You notice he isn't timid in front of Satoru, placing his arm around the couch behind you. Gojo notices this and says nothing, instead choosing to thump the file in his hands onto the table. You reach for it, then open the black folder, noting the heavy redaction on many of the pages.

"This might be your biggest one yet," Gojo states, leaning forward. "You're going to be recovering some evidence needed in our search for Kenjaku."

Kenjaku. The most elusive man in the entire CSB. Known for blowing covers of CSB Kitsune, organizing massive Leviathan casualties on staged recon missions, and relentlessly terrorizing the Grand Council with threats of bringing the CSB to its knees.

Your palms begin to sweat, and Suguru takes the file from your hands, letting you lace your fingers together to stop them from shaking.

"How do we know this isn't a setup?" Suguru wonders and then looks up from the folder. "And why is y/n coming with us? This is normally Leviathan work."

"Y/n is going in as a scout. But you'll be with her, along with four other high-level ops teams. It'll be presented as a routine inspection of the systems, but you two will orchestrate the recovery. The other four teams will assist with entry and extraction."

"And what kind of evidence is this?"

"Files." Your mind flashes to the files sitting in the trash on your desktop, and you inhale deeply. "Files from a computer linked to a DDOS attack from his base. You'll be going in and retrieving them with a thumb drive." The thumb drive is slapped onto the table, the silver color shining in the light of the living room.

"When do we leave?" you wonder, and Gojo smiles, showing all of his teeth.

"In twelve hours, right as everyone is getting off. The building will need to be empty when you two go in to prevent any suspicions or reports back to Kenjaku."

"Got it."

_____________________________________________________________

Geto drives you to the rendezvous, wearing an all-black outfit and glasses that he keeps fiddling with nervously. His tattoos are covered up, but that doesn't make him look any less intimidating.

Again, he's a "security officer". Well, one without a gun, which is probably why he's fiddling with his fake glasses so much.

You consider your cover - Information Technology Officer - and look down at your outfit again. Your dress pants and frilly white blouse look the part, but you don't feel the part.

"This is too easy," you mention, and Suguru glances over at you.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"So I just go into this room, find the computer, and plug in the thumb drive?"

"You have to locate the one--"

"Row Eleven, computer eighteen."

"You're too good at this," Suguru laughs, and you chuckle, looking out of the window. The massive building looms ahead, and you feel your gut twist painfully. As you pull into the parking garage, you watch for the first set of teams to assist with entry. They'd be disguised as guards that will lead you into the building and up to the room, and then two sets of guards would come to get you and lead you out, taking the thumb drive with them as they depart.

But why so many people? Weren't you and Suguru enough to get in and get out with the evidence?

You step out of the car after Suguru parks, and when you get to the front of the building, you see the first set of guards. They open the doors to the main floor, where people are still milling about and wrapping up for the day. Next, you're walked to the elevators, where one of the guards swipes a keycard, his eyes looking everywhere but at you and Suguru as he presses the up button. His partner stands closely behind you two, but you consider the ultra level of security a comfort.

Suguru, however, is not so thrilled.

"Can you back the fuck up?" he turns and asks the woman behind you, who steps back at the forcefulness of his tone. You look up at him and notice a deep frown line set into his brows as you walk onto the elevator, unaccompanied. Suguru punches the "7" button with his knuckle and stands stiffly as the doors close on the two security guards below.

"Everything's going to be fine," you reassure him, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You'll see." He grunts in response as the elevator grinds to a halt, and the automated voice announces, "Floor Seven". The second set of guards meets you right outside of the elevators, one taking the lead while the other walks behind you as you walk past a row of frosted glass doors. A key card is swiped again, and you go past a wooden door that has no windows before walking down a less inviting hallway.

Row eleven, computer eighteen.

The guard in front opens a door leading to the computer room, and you're met with a fierce blue glow from the dormant screens.

"Ten minutes," Suguru advises you, and you walk past him, nodding.

"Give me seven."

You count the rows from the back of the room and find the eleventh row easily, then down the long path to computer eighteen. When you sit down at the screen, your fingers quickly type in the password: TOUR-DOZE-KURD.

You take the thumb drive out of your pocket and wait for the program files to load, searching through each and every one with lightning speed.

"If I was a suspicious file... where would I be..." You open the TEMP files and instantly find a massive .zip file just out in the open. You open the ZIP extractor and wait for the files to pop up, sticking the thumb drive into the computer and inhaling before the "finished" notification pops up.

However, when the files open, your eye catches on one, in particular, making your heart stop.

Release to Y/n on (unknown date and time).

Two and a half minutes left on the clock.

You drag the extracted files to the thumb drive icon, but you click on the folder addressed to you while they're downloading.

And you discover the same videos, the same audio files, the same documents that were dropped onto your computer. Yet, all you can hear is the rushing sound of blood in your ears as you click out and look at the other files, hundreds of names and release times labeled on files.

Two other names catch your eye, and you balk, fearing the worst if you open them:

Geto Suguru. (released).

Yu Haibara. (do not release).

Once the files finish transferring with only a minute to spare, you snatch the stick out of the computer and leap up, shutting the device down before rushing out of the room.

"Suguru, there's something very wro--" You stop in your tracks as you see two men dressed in grey Kitsune uniforms standing across from Suguru, their guns pointed at the two of you. Suguru's hands are raised, and you shakily inhale, feeling the thumb drive growing hot in your pocket.

"I know, baby," he whispers, eyes focused on the men blocking your exit down the hallway. "Looks like we've been set up."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23@rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!" 

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor. 

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had. 

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank. 

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg. 

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing. 

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly. 

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind. 

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat. 

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself. 

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write." 

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter. 

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?" 

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him. 

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied. 

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded. 

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!" 

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door. 

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly. 

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked. 

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator. 

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along. 

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered. 

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion. 

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?" 

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it. 

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away. 

"You'll have to come here to get another!" 

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder. 

"See? You did just fine!" 

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled. 

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

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[ifwallscouldtalkkkk]

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you" - Michael Clifford Oneshot (COLLEGE)

Female reader × Michael Clifford

Mentions of alcohol, slightly tipsy (consensual) interactions, swearing, SMUT.

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You miss your bus home after a night partying with friends. Luckily, you meet a guy willing to give you a ride home, and his playful pinky promise to not kidnap you somehow convinces you to accept.

The smut in this story is fairly short. This was my first ever attempt at writing fanfic back in 2018, and I was a bit scared of sounding stupid

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Your shoes clacked as you ran on the cobblestones. You were so close to the bus station that you could see the bus driver flicking a cigarette butt onto the ground and leaving the embers glowing on the dark cobblestones, before taking his seat behind the wheel. You picked up your pace even more and frantically waved a hand in the air, hoping that you could cut ahead as the bus made its turn around the station back and onto the road. You cursed under your breath, mentally labeling yourself an idiot for staying at the party a couple of extra minutes to say your goodbyes to a friend who was too preoccupied with shouting random answers to the ongoing pictionary game to even hear you.

You skipped every other step on the small set of stairs to reach the platform, and when you reached the corner where the bus would turn, you started jumping up and down and waving in a feeble attempt to get the driver to stop and pick you up even though you weren't technically in the pick up zone. You could see him seeing you, it was a clear summer night and thus barely even dark! But the near empty bus didn't stop. The driver probably saw you as an entitled child who was too drunk to be on time, and maybe he was at least 25% right.

”Fucking bastard” you squeezed out through clenched teeth as you stomped around in a little circle with your head thrown back in frustration. Calling your parents to drive an hour in the middle of the night to come pick you up and let you off at your dorm was not ideal. You knew that they would do it for you, not wanting you to walk the 6 miles home. No, this was definitely not your plan, but maybe it was a bit irresponsible to plan to take the very last bus for the night. You stomped one last time and breathed out deeply.

”What the fuck are you doing, girl?”, someone called out in a humored undertone.

You swiveled around and your eyes landed on a car parked a short distance away, at the designated pick up- drop off parking area. The boy whom the voice belonged to leaned out the open window of the driver’s seat, with his arms folded and propped up on the edge of the window. His smug smirk felt hurtful in your frustrated state, but it brought you back to reality somewhat. You could admit that you probably looked like a child who didn't get a pony for christmas – and to be honest, you felt the same amount of betrayal.

”What a fucking jerk!”, the guy in the car yelled when you didn't answer. ”Where ya heading to?”

You donned a tortured expression, brushed out your skirt, picked your bag off the ground, and started walking home.

You heard the lone car start and you put a bit more speed in your step. It soon pulled up mere inches from you anyways.

”Come on, you're not seriously walking home? You obviously live a ways away since you were supposed to take the bus”, he said with the same amused tone in his voice.

”I'll be ok, and you're probably wanting to get home yourself”, you said, trying to politely reinforce the idea of him leaving you alone

”Look, I’m not gonna kidnap you, I pinky promise”, he chuckled at his own words but continued when you kept your eyes locked straight ahead. ”Girl, I’m guessing that you live on campus, and that's like a billion miles away. I’ll drop you off all gentlemanly at your doorstep and tip my imaginary top hat at you as I drive away, never to be seen again.” You stopped walking and he had to jerk his car to a stop along with you.

”The fact that you know that I live on campus is not very reassuring”, you replied.

He rolled his eyes and let out a little laugh. ”That bus-” he pointed down the road that your planned ride home had disappeared along a few minutes earlier ”-goes straight to campus. I just dropped my pal off here to avoid driving him all the way to the uni, but looks like I’ll have to go there now anyways.” You looked him in the eyes. The way he spoke elicited a strange amount of trust, and although a couple of piercings and a questionable hair color for an adult could be spotted under his beanie, he didn't seem like bad news. ”Look, the door doesn't even lock properly, I wouldn't even be able to kidnap you!” he demonstrated the faulty lock on the passenger door. You had to smile at the enthusiastic way he presented it.

”You promise you won't leave serial killer notes in my mailbox?” He lit up even more at your reply.

”Promise”, he said. You swung your bag up on your shoulder and reached for the door. This was in no way the wisest thing to do in the situation, but you were already overwon by his goofy charm.

You climbed in and kept your gaze forward, feeling the boy's eyes on you, and you caught yourself subconsciously holding your breath. You caved and looked at him when it became clear he wasn't going to drive forward before you gave in.

”Seatbelt.” he said with a parental tone. ”Can't have such a pretty girl making unsafe choices!” It wasn't as funny of a comment as his facial expression suggested, but he really knew how to lighten the mood. ”Michael.” He stretched his hand out to shake yours formally. You replied with your name and a firm handshake. ”Oh girl, with that grip, no one could even dream of succeeding in kidnapping you" he said, laughing at your overly stern behavior.

”I just hate limp handshakes", you smiled, rummaging around in your bag after a snack. ”Damn it I left my granola bar at home”, you muttered under your breath.

”Oh uh, I've got a bag of peanuts somewhere…” Michael trailed off, reaching over to the glove department to rummage through his own stuff. His warm hand grazed your bare knee while reaching and you tensed up at his accidental touch.

”Dude, eyes on the road!” you exclaimed and he chuckled in response.

”I thought risk taking was a theme tonight – oh wait, here they are!” He plopped a bag of salted peanuts in your lap.

”Wait, you're not allergic, are you?” he asked. ”Some risks are not worth taking.”

”No, I love peanuts, no worries”, you poured a handful out and put a few in your mouth. After a night consisting mostly of liquor and dancing around, something to eat felt heavenly.

Michael asked you a couple of standard questions about your studies, and you gave all the standard answers.

”I kinda miss studying. Never thought I'd say that." Michael smiled. His hand dipped down into the bag in your lap to get some peanuts, getting dangerously close to between your thighs. You stumbled for a few seconds.

”Um oh, ok really?” His behavior was so unlike anyone else you knew. He was so daring and sure of himself, but he felt so warm and fuzzy in contrast. Maybe the previously ingested alcohol skewed your judgement, but you couldn't help but find this stranger utterly charming.

”Yeah… I'm on the road a lot nowadays for work", came his reply.

”Oh, what do you do? Uber driver for college girls who can't keep track of time?” You saw one corner of his mouth pulling smugly upwards at your joke.

”Uh no, I'm in the music producing business.”

”Huh, that's fun. I wasn-" you didn't finish your sentence as a deer jumped out onto the otherwise vacant road from between a few bushes on the side of the long stretch of asphalt nearing the campus grounds.

”Oh shit", you heard Michael exclaim while swerving a bit and stepping hard on the brakes. The deer stared confused at the headlights before scurrying off towards the other side of the road. ”You ok?!” the boy asked between quick breaths. Your breath was labored too, but your eyes and mind were mostly focused on the male hand that had instinctively been placed protectively on your thigh while braking. Michael unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer when he didn't get an answer.

”Uh, yeah…” your eyes now focused on his light, green, worried eyes.

You just stared. You didn't mean to, but you didn't make an effort to look away either. He had gotten so close. His left hand was on your upper arm in a protective manner, and his face was just inches away from yours. You didn't mean to stare, and you most definitely didn't mean for your eyes to briefly flicker down to look at his lips. He noticed. He must have noticed given the way you were both so focused on each other.

”Wa-", you began, but didn't finish the sentence. To be honest, you couldn't even remember what you were about to say. Your eyes flickered down again, when your vocal cords failed you.

‘Shit!’ Your mind blasted out inside your own head, but Michael didn’t pull away, or look alarmed. If anything, his brow furrowed deeper, all the while he was trying to calm his own breath. After a couple more sharp exhales his grip on your arm tightened, and he pressed his lips to yours quickly, as if he was taking a running start. You kissed back automatically before you even registered what was happening. You tensed up and felt Michael’s grip loosen as if to retreat. 'No no no', you were not gonna lose this moment. No way. To signal that you were on board with what was happening you brought your hand up to his neck. ‘He can't stop now’, you were aching for him to continue touching you.

He got more involved in the kiss in response, and your other hand found its way up to the back of his neck too. The hand that had previously resided firmly on your arm now fell to your thigh and snaked its way to the back of your knees, pulling you closer still. Your voice had given up any sort of attempt of self control, and a short moan escaped your lips. The man reacted to your premature excitement and his right hand fumbled to find your seat belt button. In a surprisingly smooth motion for the situation being, he simultaneously pushed his own seat back from the steering wheel, and pulled you onto his lap as soon as the belt let go of you. Both your hands braced against Michael's chest, while his own hands pressed into your sides. Your fingers curled to grip his shirt, and his fingers mimicked yours by curling too, his nails digging into you. You could feel your pulse going crazy. Michael's heartbeat was probably also going off the rails, because he lifted you off of him a couple of inches so that he could grow more comfortably in his pants. He looked you deep in your eyes the entire time and let out a lengthy exhale.

“Girl, I don't even know what to do with you.”

He grabbed your ass to grind you into him. You let yourself angle your head back in reaction to your core finally being stimulated, and Michael straightened up his upper body to nibble at your neck. You helped him by moving your own hips along with the rhythm, but his hands still stayed firmly on your ass. When you couldn't take it anymore, you reached down to unclasp his belt, but your fingers fumbled more than you intended. You hadn't noticed how much you were shaking in excitement before now.

The stranger turned lover stared into your eyes patiently while you unbuttoned his jeans, but as soon as you managed to slide them down his thighs he pressed you hard against him, almost as hard as he pressed your lips together. Your underwear starting to become soaked from the thought of what was to come. Michael shifted his underwear down to meet his jeans. His hands couldn't decide where to rest, alternating between your hips, your chest, and your neck.

When focusing on your hips, his fingers on one hand slid up ever so slightly underneath the hem of your underwear, and his touch left you grinding harder into his thigh. You could tell that Michael knew how wet you were, your panties practically gliding around. His fingers found your hemline once more, and he slowly let his fingers follow the leg seam downwards. He let two fingers slip between you and the fabric to rest right outside your entrance for what felt like several minutes, but then inserted them forcefully when your whimpers became more desperate. He groaned too, from getting to feel you from the inside and knowing what pleasures it gave you. As if this didn't feel explosive enough already, his thumb joined his other fingers and circled your clit carefully.

You felt your cheeks turn red from the blood rushing fast through your body. Feeling sparks in your lower stomach already was not something you anticipated. Michael seemed to understand though, because he stilled you from assisting his fingers’ movement. He had stopped his movements too to make sure you would focus on his face. The look of his eyes as he kept them locked on yours was piercing and the icy-ness of it felt amazing on your hot cheeks. He held one hand deep inside of you, and the other on his own throbbing organ. He slowly replaced his two fingers with his cock, letting you get used to him gradually. You sank down, and the pain of stretching was miniscule compared to all the pleasure in the air. Once Michael was sure that you were comfortable with him, he elevated his hips just enough to push your limits. He finally let out a well kept-in moan. The subtle hip movements turned more and more intense until the point where you could tell you would end up with leg cramps in a few hours. The car wasn’t gigantic by any means, but you found ways to make do. With your hands behind your back, you could hold onto the steering wheel for support, with the added benefit of letting Michael’s hands roam over your torso freely.

Eyes watering, heart pumping, and legs trembling, you could feel your orgasm coming closer. Both your moans blended together into an audible mess as the electric pulses took over your body. After your release, your body relaxed heavy against the steering wheel.

A long, loud honk sounded out before you could get the chance to lift yourself off in horror. ‘Oh shit.’ The motion of lifting yourself off and plopping down in the passenger seat again wasn’t graceful, but it was at least fairly quick. You sat paralyzed holding onto your seat as a dog barked loudly at the sudden interruption of the usual peace and quiet. A lamp lit up in a house a few hundred yards away. It took a minute, but Michael finally chuckled - his hands rubbing his face. You cracked a smile too, but your stiffened posture would take a few minutes to get rid of. Michael clearly had a more easily relaxed personality than you.

The back of his head lay on the head rest, and he let it fall to one side to turn towards you. The same all-too-humored look that he had when you missed the bus was painted over his face. He didn't say anything, and neither did you. Words didn't really help in this predicament. He just pulled his pants up to waist level again and turned the car keys. You two drove in silence the few minutes left to reach campus grounds.

He crawled to a stop outside of the main dorms, and turned his head lazily again. You had quickly gathered your stuff in your hands as he pulled in, and you got out the second the car stopped.

“Well, uh… Thanks for the ride”, you said politely.

“You’re welcome”, he replied just as politely, and with a rare sincerity.

You raised your palm up in a subdued goodbye as you took a few steps backwards, and then turned around to walk away. Your shoes on the asphalt click-clacked loudly in the silent summer night. You reached for the door handle, the cool metal feeling sobering in your grip.

“HEY!” a word sliced through the silence.

You spun around on your toes quickly.

“Hey girl!” Michael continued when he knew he had your attention. He was leaning out the rolled down window again.

“I know where you live!” The grin on his face almost bursting by the seams.

A huge smile immediately spread across your face too.

ifwallscouldtalkkkk MASTERLIST

[dreamescapeswriting]

[15:35] Minho and Chan - Part 2 ~ [M]

>>> Genre: Smut, filthy smut, threesome, exhibitionism, fingering, oral 9F  receiving and M receiving)

>>> Pairing: Lee know x Fem!Reader x Chan

>>> Part ONE

Just as Minho had ordered you wore that exact skirt to dinner that night, smiling along with Felix as he told you one of the office stories you'd heard a million times before but went along with it since you were still waiting to be seated.

"Ahh Y/n! Felix, this way." Chan's arm rested on your waist casually as he walked you through the restaurant and over to a booth table,

"Ladies first," You slid into the booth and Minho met you one side and Chan at the other, great...You were sandwiched in right between your boyfriend and your boyfriends boss who had already told your boyfriend how hot he found you. 

"Would you like a drink?" Chan asked everyone at the table but he directed the question at you,

"Just water, someone has to drive you all home tonight." Minho's hand fell down onto your thigh and you swallowed the lump in your throat as he used it to spread your legs just a little, 

"You're quite right," Chan laughed going to make small talk with everyone else at the table while Minho leant closer to you and began whispering so that only you could hear him. 

"You're such a good girl for me aren't you?" Before you could answer him Chan was facing you once again, 

"So why has Minho kept you hidden for so long? Your talents exceed well above his department." You stammered for a couple of seconds wondering how he knew about your talents, the only people to have seen your portfolio at the company were Minho and Felix, 

"I make it a priority to look into everyone Miss Y/l/n." Chan's hand fell onto your other thigh and your eyes darted to see if Minho had noticed but he hadn't, Chan squeezed a little and you coughed into your hand trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make you sound like an idiot. 

"W-Well I just...I supposed Mr Lee has his reasons for it Sir," Minho's hand tightened on your skin as you used 'Sir' for someone that wasn't him and he hated it. 

"I suppose he does, keeping someone as gorgeous as you all to himself though? Should be a crime." You laughed along with Chan and thanked the heavens that the waitress showed up when she did or you would have died on the spot. 

"You alright Minho? You haven't said a word since we sat down." Felix smirked at Minho who just shot him a dirty look before turning to you again but you were now in a deep conversation with Chan.

Throughout the entire dinner, both of their hands were dancing dangerously close to one another and you didn't know how to shake Chan off without being offensive or to tell Minho without causing a scene. 

"Excuse me." You said as you waited for Minho to move, you walked over to the toilets to go and splash some cold water in your face, it would be a lie if you were to say that both of their hands on you weren't sending your mind into a frenzy.

"Finally alone," You jumped turning around to see Chan standing in the bathroom,

"This is the ladies room," You stuttered but he didn't care, he walked closer to you and placed his hand on your cheek running his thumb over it and smirking as your cheeks started to heat up. 

"Do I make you nervous baby girl?" A pool was sent to your core at the nickname that fell from his lips, you couldn't think of words. Only thoughts of him bending you over and taking you on the counter filled your head.

"Use your words," His thumb ran over your bottom lip and he pulled it from between your lips. 

"They'll know we're up to something," You whispered not wanting to do this to Minho, you loved him and nothing was going to change that. You shuffled past Chan who smirked at you, watching the way you walked away from him and wanting nothing more than to take you right there against the door with your skirt hiked up to your hips like he'd seen in the video Minho sent him. Tonight was going to be a fun night so he followed you out. 

"What took you so long baby?" Minho asked when you got back into the seat next to him his hand fell onto your lap instantly and you downed the drink that was in your space. 

"I sent Chan that video, by the way, he likes the way you cry out my name." He whispered to you his fingers trailing up your skin before dipping towards your clit and he smirked at how wet you were. 

"You're soaking baby, did Chan catch up to you in the bathroom." Your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers graced your sensitive clit.

"I did, I make her nervous." You whimpered as Chan's hand came into contact with your thigh next and they both pulled your thighs apart. 

"W-We're surrounded by friends." You whispered to Minho but he chuckled and looked at you as he plunged two fingers knuckle deep into you and groaned lowly at how much you clenched around him already, Chan chuckled taking his thumb up to your clit just to torture you some more. 

"I think she loves this, look at her. Not even trying to push us away Minho, you've got a good one." Chan chuckled to you before going back to having a normal conversation with Felix. Minho took this moment to pump his fingers faster and harder out of you, curling them up so you could feel everything and bring you closer to your release.

"You like Chan's thumb there? Rubbing you so much until you cum?" You glared at Minho and clenched around him as you felt your orgasm approaching, 

"S-Stop, I-I can't." You begged him knowing that you couldn't keep quiet, your hands dug into his arm but Minho quickened his pace, 

"Cum. Right fucking now." Minho order at you, your head rested on his shoulder and you started laughing to cover up that you were going to cum, you bit down on his shoulder as your orgasm hit you like a wave, 

"Fuck." You whispered into his shoulder your hips bucking against the seat as you tried to come down from your high, your legs shaking as you came around his fingers in a way you never had before. Chan pulled his hand away and brought his hand up to his mouth sucking on his fingers and smirking at you and Minho.

"You never told me she was a squirter, we're going to have a lot of fun tonight."

You didn't even make it into penthouse apartment properly until you were slammed against a nearby wall by Chan who ripped the skirt from your waist not wanting to waste time anymore, he'd needed you since you walked into that conference room. Minho's blood boiled as he watched Chan run his fingers up and down your folds, his folds. You belonged to him, not to Chan. You were his but yet there was nothing he could do to stop his boss from touching you like this that wouldn’t result in either of you getting fired.

"Minho, how long have you been keeping her to yourself, baby girl is so tight around my fingers." Your hands gripped onto the wall as you whimpered out his name turning your head over your shoulder to make eye contact with Minho while another man fucked you with his fingers. 

"You like this? Me fucking you with my fingers while you stare at your...? What are you and Miss Y/l/n?" His fingers stayed still and you whimpered as you caught the look on Minho's face as he saw you at someone else's beck and call. Someone else torturing the way he knew how to do perfectly, he was the one had discovered how to push your every button.

"She's my girlfriend," Minho said through gritted teeth, you cried out as Chan added a third finger into you and you started whining once he began to pump his fingers mercilessly in and out of you. Chan began tutting, 

"You know as well as I do Minho that personal relationships are forbidden at the workplace." You hissed as he continued to pump his fingers roughly, the palm of his hand coming into contact with your clit with every thrust of his wrist, 

"F-Fuck, Chan I love him! He loves me!" You cried out as you came around his fingers locking eyes with Minho as you came down from your second high of the night. You fell limp and on the floor, Chan wiped his fingers on his trousers and watched as Minho rushed to your side to make sure you were okay,

"I'm fine, a little fucked out but I'm okay." You whispered kissing his lips as he brought your face close to his, Chan shook his head at the two of you

"If you get caught-"

"I know." Minho snapped looking at you and smiling sadly, you were worth everything. If getting caught resulted in him being fired than so be it, you were worth it, 

"I know," He repeated calmly tipping your head up and smiling as you lazily closed your eyes and laid your head on his shoulder. 

"You should get her home, I'm sorry I took things too far but that video." Chan groaned and you giggled pathetically at them too tired to laugh.

"You sent the video?" Minho smirked as you started to come back to your regular needy self, 

"Feeling needy baby girl?" You hummed and looked at Minho and then over at Chan as if asking permission to get fucked by his boss, 

"He ruined my skirt, I should get more than a finger fuck than that." Chan laughed at you and licked his teeth looking at Minho who was already staring at you,

"She's greedy huh?" Minho nodded at his boss and you started crawling over to Chan, palming him through his trousers. 

"I can't leave you here with this now, I wouldn't be a very good employee now, would I? Sir?" His heard rolled backwards as you pulled down his trousers in a swift movement and took him into your mouth. The feeling of your warm mouth around his length made him moan out, 

"Ugh shit." His hands worked their way into your hair and you stared up at him with innocent eyes, Minho came up behind you and slapped your ass, 

"You're in for a long night baby girl," Chan groaned as you gagged around his length moaning around him as you felt Minho slap your ass once again. 

"A long night," Minho confirmed. You knew just how overprotective and jealous Minho could get so there was no way it was going to be an easy night on you.

"N-Need you." You said as you pulled away from Chan a string of saliva connecting your lip to the cock of his tip, 

"You're so desperate, it's cute." Chan cooed rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip and pushing the mixture of precum and saliva back into your mouth and grunting when you sucked on his thumb. 

"I think Chan should get to taste you, first baby." Chan looked down to Minho who was rubbing your ass where he'd been slapping and nodded. 

"You want that baby girl? You want daddy to taste you while you suck off your master?" You nodded desperately and the men switched positions and Chan moaned out looking at how wet you were. 

"Beg for it," He teased as he dropped down behind you and ran a finger up and down your folds, 

"P-Please," You begged quietly and he tutted shaking his head and plunging one finger into you. 

"Louder." He ordered and you whimpered at him, 

"Please just eat me out." He smirked before coating his fingers in your arousal and began pumping them in and out of you at a faster pace, 

"Feel good baby girl?" He mumbled but before you could reply he placed his fingers with his tongue and began eating you out sloppily, you cried out but your mouth was filled with Minho's cock making him groan as your moans vibrated around him. You could already feel your third orgasm building up and you looked up at Minho through your lashes as you contracted around Chan's tongue.

"She's gonna cum," Minho chuckled darkly and pulled out of your mouth letting you cry out and clutch into the carpet flooring as you felt your approaching high coming but just like that it was gone. Chan let go of you and you were left with nothing, your orgasm fading away as you whined out.

The bed shifted as Minho knelt in front of you and sat back on his ankles, 

"Chan's gonna fuck you just this once, alright?" You nodded, mouth-watering at the thought of him fucking you from behind. The bed shifted again and you felt Chan's tip at your entrance, you hissed as he slowly pushed into you the stretch wasn't too bad but you whined out as he held himself still, 

"Minho needs some attention doll," You looked at Minho and took hold of his cock, flicking your tongue along the slit of his head before taking him into your mouth. As soon as you began to bob your head Chan began to thrust in and out of you, your hips jerked to help him hit your sweet spot. 

"Fuck." Minho groaned putting his hand in your hair and pulling you down so he could hit the back of your throat, Chan groaned as he felt you clench around him as he thrust in and out of you.

"So tight princess, you're so good for both of us aren't you?" You felt your body twitch as you got closer to your third orgasm of the night and you looked up at Minho pleadingly. 

"She wants to cum," He chuckled grunting when you took his balls into your hand and began playing with then. Chan began to thrust faster and you decided to bob your head in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

"Ugh-Shit." Chan groaned as he felt you contracting once again, you moaned around Minho as your orgasm hit you like a hurricane, washing over you and making your hips buck backwards against Chan's, a few more well-timed jerks from Chan and he came undone inside of you making you whimper around Minho when he pulled out. 

"Oh fuck," Minho grunted looking at you as you stared up at him with teary eyes, he came into your mouth and you swallowed around him, pulling off and licking your lips. 

"Such a good girl." He complimented as you began to lick him clean and then pant heavily as you laid back on the sheets. Chan kissed the top of your head and then looked at Minho nodding at him, 

"I'll keep it all a secret if anyone comes close to discovering I'll throw them off." You smiled and rolled over to lay your head on Minho's lap,

"You might as well stay for the night, I'll send someone out for a new skirt for Y/n. Goodnight." With that, he left the room and Minho took your chin between his finger and thumb. 

"Mine. You're all mine, you hear that?" You smiled sleepily. 

"All yours Minho."

tagline:  @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ why did I do this to myself

[pasteljeon]

where’s waldo (bts ver)

summary: in which your coworkers can’t distinguish between your seven boyfriends. “jin? oh! you mean jungkook?” ...”hah?”

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: nothing. super fluffy!

length: 1.4k

notes: this is a blm commission from the lovely @/himbeaux-joon. thank you so much for contributing! i hope you find this to your liking ^^

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The first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

“Hi Yoongi!” Your boyfriend turns and flashes your co-worker a grin. “Hi Gia. How are you?”

They chat for a bit, but if he notices your visible confusion, he doesn’t address it, even as she waves goodbye to the two of you and disappears back into her office.

Your secretary comes flying over to drag you to the conference room the next minute, and it’s already forgotten. He grabs your wrist as you leave, hand cupping the back of your head as he kisses you deeply.

“See you tonight, baby,” he murmurs when he withdraws. You thumb his cheek, breathless, as he smiles down at you. “Mmm.”

“Okay, okay,” your assistant rolls her eyes as she pulls on your sleeve. “Break it up, lovebirds. Go home, Hoseok.”

“Hoseok? Wh—” He blows you a kiss, form fading as you round the corner.

“Boo,” you pout. “Party killer.”

“Oh hush,” she snaps, shoving the iPad into your hands as you reach the glass room. “We all know you’re going to rail him after this meeting.”

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The second time it happens, you brush it off as coincidence.

“Oh, ___,” your coworker beams as she steps off the elevator. “That Taehyung is waiting for you at the lobby again. Date?”

“Lunch,” you smile, though you glace at your phone briefly, a little perplexed. You thought you were meeting Jimin?

“Well, have a good time. He’s such a sweet boy,” she gushes, squeezing your arm as she passes.

“Thanks,” you say honestly, waving as the elevator door closes.

You mean to ask, but the moment you reach the ground floor, Jimin is engulfing you in a tight hug, fussing over your health and suggesting a plethora of foods to cure that incessant headache you’ve been dealing with all week.

He’s so warm and smells like peaches and sunshine and you melt in his embrace. Jimin pulls away, eyes crinkling as he kisses your nose. “Come on. You need to drink something warm.”

Your question is long forgotten.

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The third time has you floored.

It’s a disaster walking down the hall.

“Hi Jin! Missed you at the gym the other night!” One calls. He lives in your building, and you know he’s someone who’s sporadically met Jungkook at the many amenities your space offered. Jin, though? You distinctly remember the eldest remarking at how much he preferred their studio gym.

You eye him strangely. Your boyfriend shrugs it off easily, waving.

“Taehyung-ah! I caught that fish you told me about last week,” another one says excitedly. He swipes through his phone to show a picture of him proudly holding up a rather terrifying sample of seafood. “We let it go after, of course, but man, it was huge!”

Now you’re really about to ask him what was going on. Jin was the local fishing enthusiast. While it’s true the man beside you often ventured with him, he isn’t nearly as excitable at the thought as the former is.

“That’s awesome,” he answers warmly. “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

What the f—

Your boyfriend excuses himself for a quick bathroom detour before you can ask, and you wait outside impatiently.

“Hey, ___! I heard Namjoon was in today,” you turn to the newcomer, eyebrows knitting. After a beat, you nod, deciding to play along.

“Could you tell him I loved the book recommendations he sent me this week? Murakami’s really starting to grow on me,” he says happily. His phone buzzes just as you open your mouth. “Whoops, gotta run. Department meeting. See you later!”

That one was obvious. He could only mean –

“Hey. Ready for lunch?” Yoongi says, patting down his hands with the paper towel he grabbed on the way out of the bathroom. “Sorry to keep you.”

“Not at all,” you say slowly, smiling at him even as your lips twitch.

You start walking again. As the two of you wait for the elevator, you comment dryly, “Really? Jungkook?” Yoongi shrugs innocently, cat-shaped eyes gleaming mischievously.

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

“Huh …,” you purse your lips.

“Lamb skewers?” He takes your hand. He has that adorable gummy smile on his face, the one he knows you can’t resist.

“Love you,” you say offhandedly instead, looping your arm through his.

Yoongi flushes, squeezing your palm. “Yeah. I love you too.”

.

.

.

Later

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve all been doing this all on purpose?” You say, stunned. The skewer dangles from your limp hold.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know?” Seokjin starts laughing instead. He nearly chokes on his drink, and you offer no sympathy as Yoongi pounds his back helpfully.

“You were confusing me for months,” you wail. “And I thought I was just imagining things too, going crazy after working so much, but no …”

“It was the maknaes’ idea,” Namjoon explains, and you swivel around to see the three boys huddled together, unsure whether to be terrified or pleased. Taehyung’s grinning unabashedly though, caramel eyes twinkling in mirth.

Huffing, you turn back, viciously tugging another piece of lamb of your skewer.

They all watch you carefully, all smiles and laughter and warmth and you chew slowly, swallowing before admitted grudgingly, “Okay, maybe it was a little funny.”

Jungkook disentangles himself from the ball of youth and shoves an indignant Seokjin to the side, ignoring his squawk of anger at being treated like a ball of yarn, to take the place next to you.

“We just wanted to make you smile,” he says earnestly. “Like an inside joke, just between us.” He’s looking down at you shyly, from under those long lashes of his, cheeks pink and lips rolled between teeth. He’s all soft and sweet, decked in an oversized sweater and those tight-fitting jeans he hates but knows you love.

So you kiss him, smearing sauce all over his face and he returns your fervor eagerly, cupping your jaw and pulling you onto his lap.

You pull away reluctantly when Seokjin makes another faint noise of distress at being crushed in the tight corner he’s been squished into. Jungkook chases you, unwilling to let go of you just yet, and he ducks his head, blushing furiously, when he catches your knowing look.

I love you seems meager and so un-encompassing of all that you feel for them.

You settle with, “Thank you.”

They’re all glow-y again, beaming and crowding close. “I want kisses too,” Jimin complains playfully, reaching for you with grabby hands.

“Piss off,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly. “I was first.”

“Hello? Human meat grinder here,” Seokjin cries out, slowly sinking to the ground like he’s being pulled into quicksand.

“Oh, hyung,” Taehyung snickers, pulling him free, “You’re so dramatic.”

“You try getting squashed by this five-foot ten mass of muscles,” the eldest points out snarkily, tossing his head back as he humphs loudly.

“Hey, hey, leader privileges,” Namjoon calls, flashing a dimple as he swims through the throng of hormones.

“What about me?” Hoseok says, eyes wide as he sticks his lower lip out.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “Let’s go home, and you can all get your kisses.”

They all cheer, and you’re grateful the owner adores them just as much as you do, enough not to kick you all out with how rambunctious you always are.

“Jin-hyung is paying, right?” Jungkook chirps as he makes one last wrap for the road. Seokjin gapes at him in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? After the way you tried to mash me into the wood finish? Oh, hell no.”

As they’re arguing, you tap Yoongi’s shoulder and he leans in, nodding. He takes your card without another word, rising to his feet. Hoseok whistles. “Suuuuuuuga!”

Yoongi looks back, thoroughly embarrassed but still smiling that gummy smile of his.

You know he never really uses your card. But he also doesn’t know you paid for this meal in advance.

Taehyung notices your fond look as you gaze at your boys, and he brushes your hair back, nosing your temple.

“Love you, noona,” he murmurs huskily. The breathy, deep quality of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “I love you too.”

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Playing Nurse (4/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary,  where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader. Last chapter! Thanks for loving this one as much as I do you guys :)

Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh 

4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This

A week goes by before you see Fred again. You’ve pretty much given up on him liking you after your somewhat unexpected last encounter. But, like clockwork, he’s in the infirmary again over the weekend. 

When you arrive for your shift, the infirmary is already bustling. Pomfrey is doing intake on a group of students while a stern but somewhat worried looking McGonagall stands by. You take in the scene: Ron Weasley is there with a busted lip, Malfoy’s a few feet away, holding his head and looking dazed, Crabbe and Goyle by his side in disheveled states. You’re unsurprised to see an incredibly peeved Katie Bell, her stockings ripped, glaring at the Slytherins. She’s limping heavily.

“What happened here? How can I help?”

“There was… a fight,” McGonagall says tiredly. 

“Go ahead and examine Ron, should be a quick episkey, and then move on to Mr. Crabbe, I think it’ll be much the same but I haven’t had a proper look yet,” instructs Madam Pomfrey.

You take Ron to an exam table and give him a quick once over while asking him what happened. He explains that Fred and George weren’t having it and things escalated quickly.

“Turned into an all out brawl before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Percy was watching and ran to snitch, well, thank god he did, because they’re in really bad shape,” he says.

“Who? The Slytherins?” you say, using an episkey charm on his lip and a few stray scratches across his arms, probably from being thrown to the ground in the scuffle.

“Fred, especially, and Malfoy, and…” Ron continues, but you’re no longer listening. You look around and notice that the twins are unaccounted for. You’re finishing up on Ron when George and Filch come in carrying a stretcher with Fred on it. He seems barely conscious. You walk alongside them, asking all the questions you know to ask. This one is yours- Pomfrey is busy with Malfoy, who you suspect has a concussion, and will probably need to look after Katie’s ankle next.

George tells you that Malfoy hit Fred with a stunning spell, but after he fell, they kept kicking at him. You elect not to revive Fred fully yet, first casting a pain relief spell. You examine his clothed torso, feeling along his ribs, and notice that one of the bones feels out of place. You frown and continue lightly feeling along the area, and notice that he seems to be wearing a tight, thick undershirt.

“He’s got a broken rib. We’ll have to remove any garments that might constrict the area to set the bone properly. Could I ask you two to step out for a moment?” you ask, gesturing to the curtain out of the cubicle. Filch departs, but before George leaves he pauses.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? It would break his heart,” he says seriously before stepping out.

You have little time to wonder what he means. You cut open Fred’s tee shirt and, as you suspected upon palpating his torso, find an undergarment laid tight across his chest. Like a sports bra, maybe, but why- in a flash, you understand the secret Fred was talking about the other day, and what George was saying to keep to yourself just now. It’s a binder. Of course. 

You waste no time reflecting and slice his binder cleanly down the middle to remove pressure from the area. You set about doing a complex set of spells- first checking for internal bleeding, then setting the broken bone back in place, then casting a bandaging spell so he’s not tempted to move about before it’s fully set.

“Rennervate!” you say, flicking your wand in Fred’s direction. He comes to, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on you.

“How do you feel?” you ask him.

“Utter shit,” he says. “What happened, exactly?”

“Stunning spell from Malfoy or one of his goons, George said. You wound up with a broken rib from getting kicked while you were out, but the scan didn’t show anything else too terrible. Just a few bruises.”

“Those cheating bastards. I’d love to spit in their faces right now,” he says, moaning as he tries to sit up.

“Just lay down,” you say, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “It should be pretty much healed by tomorrow morning, but it’s going to be painful until then. If you want, I can ask Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep while I’m out fetching you a new shirt,” you offer. You pulled the blanket up to cover his chest when you finished working on his ribs, but he’s still shirtless underneath. You watch as he realizes you must have seen his chest while you were patching him up. He grimaces uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’d like that shirt, please,” he says, pursing his lips. You dash off to one of the cabinets to fetch an extra set of clothes and an extra blanket, since you know he’ll be staying the night.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You excuse yourself to let him change, and touch bases with Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall has taken Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle, who are all fully healed, back to her office. Katie Bell is sitting on an exam table, still looking quite angry with her swollen leg propped up high. George is lurking worriedly near the door. You make your way over to him.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Fred is going to be perfectly fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will have a look at him to make sure there’s nothing I missed, since it was a serious injury, but his rib is all patched up.” He sighs in relief.

“And don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” you add discreetly, smiling knowingly at him. He relaxes fully and nods in return. “Good luck with McGonagall. She did not look happy.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Take good care of him,” he says, nodding towards his brother’s bed before leaving to accept his punishment.

You return to Fred’s bedside to find him looking quite sheepish.

“Feeling okay?” you ask softly. 

“Sure. Bit embarrassed. I wasn’t hoping you’d find out like this, you know.”

“Your big secret is that you’re trans? Freddie, who in the world would care about that?”

“I dunno, some people.”

“Uh, yeah, bigots,” you say, laughing. “I certainly don’t care. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks to you. Wanna sit?” he asks sweetly. You can’t say no, so you agree to wait with him at least until Pomfrey comes in to look him over.

“So, did you ever talk to that girl?” you ask, trying to make small talk after all the excitement. He looks at you like you’re a nutcase. 

“Y/N, are you thick?” he laughs hard, causing him to wince and hold his torso. He gasps in pain, but grins through it. “Honestly, who did you think I was interested in?” he asks, biting back laughter. You look at him, your cheeks hot. What is he getting at?

“How should I know? I hardly see you, outside of keeping you alive in here,” you say defensively.

“Wow, I thought for sure you knew. I was so embarrassed when you didn’t say anything, I’ve been avoiding you for weeks!” 

“What? Why?” you ask, but it quickly dawns on you what you may’ve been missing. “Wait… what?!” you say, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Yep, you got it.”

“You like me?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“Come here,” you say. You lean down and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he pulls you in gently for a real kiss, a long one. You feel so much tension you didn’t even know you were holding in leave your body, and stand back up, laughing big, just as Madam Pomfrey parts the curtain.

“Well, everyone seems in good spirits in here,” she says. You both nod awkwardly.

“Y/N has been taking such good care of me I hardly knew I was hurt,” Fred says cheerfully. Pomfrey gives him a quick once over, agrees with your diagnoses and treatment, and leaves you two alone once again. 

“You know, we have got to stop meeting like this,” Fred says, looking up at you. “Not that you don’t look lovely in your apron.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“How about a date?”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to a nice evening with a ruggedly handsome young man,” you say, giggling gleefully. He flashes a big smile, showing off his chipped tooth.

“Well, it’s a deal. You get me up and going again and I treat you to dinner,” he says.

“Deal! I've got to go, though,” you say, planting a sneaky kiss on him before you leave, “I am at work, after all.” You practically float out the door, proud of your work in more ways than one. Fred Weasley. Yours at last. 

[elvish-sky]

The Temptation of Regality: You’re Here

A.N: I’ve had this idea for a super long time and was so happy to be able to incorporate it into this series! It was so much fun to write, I’ve kinda been adding ideas and working on it for a while and I’m honestly very proud of it. Also- I know I’m absolutely terrible at titles and I’m really trying but it’s just very hard so please don’t hate me for them. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,654

Pairings: You know the drill… Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Injury, alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

You’re Here

You plodded through the trees, only able to summon enough energy to put one foot in front of the other. Thorin was in front of you, and Fili just behind- they wanted to make sure that if you did collapse, someone would catch you. You could feel the growing unease at the slow pace you were setting, and tried to speed up. Instead of complying, your leg gave out and you crumpled to the ground with a groan.

None of this would have been an issue if it wasn’t for the orcs. That morning, several days after departing from Rivendell, you had been foraging for breakfast in a lovely quiet green meadow, when an arrow came whistling through the trees and lodged itself in your leg. Crying out in pain, you had fallen to the ground, helplessly watching as a warg with an orc rider sprung from its perch of a boulder, clearly intent on finishing you off. The orc scrambled down from its seat, drawing a filthy sword with a grin on its face. Drawn by the sound of your cry, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit burst out of the trees, Kili killing the orc with a well-placed arrow (a shot that you couldn’t help but admire, despite your injured state), as Dwalin clashed with the warg, dispatching it with a blow to the neck that sent it right onto the point of Thorin’s sword. Once that had all been dealt with, they sprinted to where the rest of the Company was gathered around you, watching as Oin removed the arrow from your leg and bound the wound.

Given the fact that, as a human, you were larger than everyone else in the group, it would have been very difficult to carry you. Instead, you stubbornly insisted that you were “fine, thank you very much!” and staggered along the path. You had done okay most of the day, only having to stop more often than usual because the blood loss had made you weak. Every time Thorin had called “halt,” you had collapsed to the ground but had managed to rise one it was time to get moving again. At least, every time until now.

“Y/N,” Kili cautioned, “this does not look good.”

“I can tell that, thank you,” you snapped back at him, your pain causing the rudeness. Oin made his way up the line to talk to Thorin.

After a short, whispered conversation, Thorin pronounced “There is a small town just a little bit further ahead. I had planned on bypassing it completely, but Oin says that Y/N will heal much faster if she rests well tonight. We will sleep there tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.”

This was met with sighs of relief from the rest of the company, as everyone had been longing to sleep in a warm bed.

“Y/N, do you think you can make it just a bit further on that leg?” Dori inquired with a concerned look on his face.

“Of course I can.” You proceeded to haul yourself up by Fili’s coat, but once you tried to put weight on the wounded leg it gave out. Again.

“Thorin, I’m so sorry,” you stated apologetically, “I can’t walk. Just leave me here and continue the quest without me.”

“Nonsense, lass!” exclaimed Dwalin, and he, Fili, and Bofur proceeded to pick you up and put you on the makeshift litter they sometimes used for Bilbo or Bombur. Surprised at how comfortable it was even with your wound, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

Waking at the noise once you had reached the town, you gestured to Dwalin, Fili, and Bofur to put the litter down and you attempted to place weight on your leg once again. Refreshed from your nap, it didn’t give out beneath you although it was still painful.

“Where are Thorin, Bilbo, and Gloin?” you asked, noting their absence from the group gathered around you.

“Inside, getting rooms,” answered Nori.

While waiting for their return, you gazed at your surroundings. It looked to be a small village, about the size of Bree. The buildings were worn with age, scratches and dents highlighted by the bright moon above.

This peace was quickly disturbed by the crashing sound of a door opening, and you turned to see Gloin beckoning at the company to come inside. As you did, he told everyone the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“We are in luck, lads!” he exclaimed, and then with a look at you quickly added “and lass!”

“They have several adjoining rooms available, so Bifir, Bofur, and Bombur will have one, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and myself will share another, Ori, Nori, Dori and Bilbo will have the third, and Fili, Kili, Thorin, and Y/N will share the last.”

This proclamation was met with mixed reactions, but the biggest objection came from Fili. “Y/N has to share with us!? She’s a girl, and she’s injured! Don’t they have any other open rooms?”

“I’m sorry lad,” Gloin apologized, “trust me when I say there really were no other options. Thorin threatened to separate the innkeeper’s head from his body, but they still did not have any other rooms.”

“It’s okay,” you consoled Fili, “I’ll be fine sharing, I can put up a blanket or something. Also, this way I have the three strongest warriors to protect me!” You knew that the best way to get him to calm down was through flattery, and sure enough it worked.

You limped up the stairs alongside everyone else. Gloin and Thorin opened doors as you made you way down the hallway, ushering groups of dwarves into their rooms. Finally, when you, Thorin, and the brothers had reached the end of the creaky floors, he pulled open the last door to reveal a small room. It had four beds, one was on top of another and the other two were placed side-by-side.

“They did not have any single rooms left, and I’d rather have you with us,” Thorin was looking up at you, clearly seeking your agreement. Bemused, you nodded your head in thanks. He had been much kinder to you since Rivendell, and you couldn’t quite figure out why, although you did look back on his reaction to you in that dress fondly.

“I figured we could hang a blanket around the bed on the bottom to give you some privacy,” Thorin explained.

“Good idea, Uncle!” Kili set to work, taking a blanket from his pack and tacking it up. When he finished, he stood to the side for your approval.

“Thank you, Kili, it looks great.” He beamed in satisfaction as you saw Thorin strolling over to another door you hadn’t noticed.

“The real reason we saved this room for the four of us was because…” and he opened the door to reveal a washroom.

“Everyone else has to use the communal ones!” Kili announced.

“Yes. Gloin and I paid the innkeeper a little extra to get this room,” said Thorin. You gave them each a little peck on the cheek in thanks and limped over to the washroom, intending to freshen up and maybe even bathe.

“Have a good time, Y/N,” Fili declared, and the three dwarves left you in peace.

After bathing, you examined your leg, which didn’t look as bad as you had first thought. You were relatively confident that you would be able to walk tomorrow. You dressed in your clean set of clothes, washed by the innkeeper’s wife while you bathed, and made your way downstairs for some food.

You were met with quite the sight. Thorin was hiding under a table, Nori and Bofur were singing along to the music played by Bifir and Gloin on top of said table. Dori, Ori, and Dwalin seemed to be doing some sort of dance next to the table, and Bombur had gotten hold of Nori’s coat and was searching through it for stolen goods. Bilbo seemed to be yelling at Thorin under the table, only making him cower more. Balin and Oin were seated at said table, looking highly amused by the antics.

Bemused, you made your way over to the table where Fili and Kili sat, looking, for once, well-behaved. “What on Middle-Earth is happening to everyone?” you exclaimed, “and why aren’t you two in the center of all the trouble?”

“They all got drunk,” Kili responded, “and we’ve been designated the official sober dwarves for the night.”

“Normally,” Fili added, “we’d be disappointed that we weren’t drinking. But we’re really enjoying this.”

You began to as well, watching your friends make complete fools of themselves. However, you were still a little confused about the antics.

“But why are they all acting so oddly?” you queried of the brothers.

“We haven’t had ale in a while, especially any as strong as this, and none of us are the best at holding our alcohol.” Fili returned.

“We spent a while in Rivendell, and you’re telling me none of you sampled any of their wines?” You were skeptical.

Kili looked sheepish. “Uncle forbid us. Said ‘I do not want you drinking any of the filthy elvish wines.’”

Fili nodded. “Of course, he may have put it a bit more strongly, but that’s the general gist of it.”

“Anyways,” Kili continued, “we’ve come to know what everyone in the company does when drunk, and would like to tell you. Fili, would you begin?”

“Gladly.” Fili took a big swig of water before launching in. “So, Y/N. Thorin gets rather paranoid when drunk, and I believe he currently thinks that most of the people in this room are assassins. Sadly, he is also a timid drunk and therefore will not confront them, which is probably best. Nori, Bifir, Bofur, and Gloin get very musical when drunk, and Nori also gets rather remorseful which is probably how Bombur got a hold of his coat.”

Kili picked up the explanation as Fili paused for a bite of food, “Dori, Ori, and Dwalin get rather overconfident, which explains the absolutely terrible dancing. And we’ve never seen Bilbo drunk before, but he seems to get rather angry.” With that the brothers sat back in their chairs, waiting for your reaction.

Which, sensibly, was to let your head crash onto the table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Fili was starting to look rather worried himself.

Much later, you sat at the table with the boys, watching the room descend further into madness.

“Should we round them up?” They both nodded, and with a sigh the three of you stood.

“I’ll get Balin and Oin to help, they don’t look too bad.” You gave Fili a glance of approval before making your way into the throng.

Figuring that maybe if you got the leader under control, everyone else would calm down, you crawled under the table, wincing as you felt your wound flare up with pain, to see Thorin, curled into a ball with Bilbo kneeling next to him.

“And that’s another thing!” The hobbit was pretty much yelling. “Handkerchiefs are essential to a hobbit’s daily life! In forcing me to leave mine behind you have deprived me of my well-being…” At this point you tuned him out, focusing on the king.

“Bilbo.”

“What?!” He snapped at you.

“Would you mind heading upstairs? It’s late.”

“Why should I do what you tell me? I’ve been taking orders this whole quest with no one stopping for just a second to think about what I fe-”

“I hear there may be handkerchiefs upstairs.”

“Oh,” he looked thoughtful, “alright then.” And without further ado the hobbit left.

“Thorin?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He started. “Y/N? Why are you here?” And then his face darkened. “Have you come to kill me too, like Bilbo was?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him “Unless our burglar was planning to talk you to death, I think we’re good. And no, Thorin, I’m not going to murder you.”

He looked at you, suspicion plainly written across his face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, you silly dwarf,” you shook your head at him fondly, “now let’s head upstairs.”

You grabbed his hand, only now noticing the lack of noise from the room around you. Emerging from under the table, you saw only a few people left. Balin and Oin were still sitting, this time at a different table, and Balin threw a wink at you as you appeared, dwarf in tow. Blushing, you shook your head madly at him, seeing his mouth curve up in a smile under the white beard. Rolling your eyes as he and Oin raised tankards in your direction, you began to tow Thorin up the stairs.

Reaching the landing, you staggered as he leaned on you heavily. You weren’t sure if your leg could take the extra weight, it was already throbbing, so you grabbed him by the armpit, trying to support yourself and not make him fall. You failed, and you crashed to the ground, limbs tangled with those of the king.

Your fall had been rather noisy, and Fili and Kili came bursting out of your room at the end of the hall. They started laughing once they saw your predicament, but still made their way down the hall to help. Fili grabbed his uncle and hauled him up, slinging an arm across his shoulder. They staggered back, and you laughed at the sight of the nephew helping his taller uncle. Then you thought about what it must have looked like with you trying to help Thorin, and laughed even more.

Kili helped you stand, and stood still as you leaned on him, trying to find your balance. Once you had, he started slowly walking so that your hopping leg could keep up. Fed up with this about halfway down the hall, he scooped you up and carried you the rest of the way with no trouble despite the fact that you were much taller. Reaching the doorway, he shouldered it open and deposited you in the chair you directed him to right next to Thorin’s bed.

You giggled to see the king sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed. He didn’t look very regal, but it was just such an endearing sight. Reaching over, you pulled the blanket over him, tucking it in around his shoulders. You brushed a strand of hair out of his face, starting in surprise as his eyes opened and a hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Amrâlimê (my love).” His voice was rough.

You heard twin gasps from across the room, and turned to see Fili and Kili sneaking out.

“We’ll just leave you two alone now.” Kili winked at you before shutting the door behind him.

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin’s voice was more insistent this time, and you looked at him to see his face lit up with earnesty.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled at his words. “Me too, Thorin. Me too.” You started to stroke his face, fingertips tracing the line of his beard as his eyes fluttered closed, breathing growing deeper. You smiled at him as your eyelids began to grow heavy. You fully intended to make your way over to your own bed, but, too tired to think about standing, you let your head fall onto Thorin’s chest, slumping across him as you drifted off to sleep.

Fili and Kili peered around the door to see you collapsed over their uncle, both fast asleep. Kili made to go move you to your bed, but Fili stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“Leave them be.”

Kili caught onto his brother’s plan, and stepped back. “Let’s leave these two in peace and go see if Bilbo and the Ri brothers have any spare room.”

Fili nodded, and the two quickly grabbed their bedding and packs before slipping out the door, Fili sneaking one last fond glance at the two sleeping figures before silently shutting the door.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

Series Tag: @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @moony-artnstuff @whiskeywinter89 @beakami @sassyscribbler @yes-captainstark

Thorin tag: @lathalea

[waywardimpalawriter]

#36: "I want to try for a baby" with Sam Wilson?🥺💕

Little Cap’s

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Tooth rotten fluff nothing more.

Word count: 2,653

Summary: You’ve been thinking about it for a while now, just wasn’t sure how Sam would take the question.

Note’s: Written for the wonderful @autumnleaves1991-blog  for the Writer Wednesday-Writer Challenge. Thank you so much doll for tagging me and including me in this opportunity.

Set after the ending of Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Sam has taken the mantle of Captain America as his own. This is my first time writing for Sam so I do hope I’ve done him justice.

Rolling the idea around your mind for what felt like the hundredth time today. Worried about his reaction, scared he might say no. Neither of your ready for the biggest leap since the ring he put on your finger. Sparking in the late summer Louisiana sun simple single two carat engagement ring catches your eye. Dreamy smile tugging the corners of your lips up.

“You gonna help finish these meal’s Y/N or stare at the rock Sam gave you?” playful annoyance filtering through her voice. Sarah glances your way smile bright and full spreading over her plush lips. “Come on girl quicker we get these meals out the faster we get back home and relax.”

“Yeah, yeah quit your bitchin babe I’m coming,” sending her a wink back. Thoughts temporarily side tracked as is your path when Cass and AJ cross, both boy’s laden with styrofoam containers. Delicious smells tickle your nose as they path tummy grumbling in reminder of a missed meal.

“Better get that checked out Aunt Y/N sounds like you got a bear in there,” AJ teases laughter in his voice.

Scowling playfully you take off after him intent on smacking his butt for the sass. But miss by a few inches, looking towards Sarah for sympathy. “What he’s not wrong and I told you to eat something earlier,” lips tipping up. Grabbing two food boxes at a time to pack them into the larger cardboard carry box.

“No love, non at all and you’re suppose to be family,” arms crossing refusing to help.

“Who’s suppose to be family?” Deep timbered voice asks from the side kitchen door, leaning on the frame like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Smiling russet eyes glance over Sarah and the boys before landing on you, back towards him. His favorite pink, yellow and white sundress fitted to your body, wearing it especially for him. Butterflies start dancing in your belly at his voice but you don’t turn just yet adding the last two containers to the box AJ packed up.

Shaking her head, “You’re late I guess there’s a first time for everything huh?” Hands placed on her hips trying to look stern but a smile spreads over her lips at seeing her big brother back in one piece.

“Don’t blame me for that Sarah. Bionic stare machine in the reason,” thumbing over his shoulder where Bucky appears sheepish grin on his lips.

“Uncle Sam you’re back, how’d it go?” Cass exclaimed happily running over to his uncle and flinging arms around his neck when Sam bent down to hug him.

AJ joining a little slowly, “Got the shield with ya this time?”

“Maybe but it’s not for you to play with,” Sam snarks back running a hand over the boy’s head, pulling him in for a one armed hug.

That’s when you turn seeing the love shinning like the sun in those such cherished eyes. Breath catching for a moment as visions filter through your thoughts. Sam holding his own child, your child, making your heart beat out a quick step. You try to cover by turning away and checking to make sure you have everything. Hoping Sam won’t notice.

“Ah but Uncle Sam please?” Puppy eyes on full blast eagerness in his tone.

But he does, filling the question away for when you’re alone together. “Don’t y’all got a truck to pack? Those meal’s ain’t gonna deliver themselves.” Stepping deeper into the kitchen with Bucky following. Eyes trained on you for a moment till Sarah moves and he shifts to look at her. Slight change in demeanor, soft smile on her lips with eyes, ‘No,’ drawing an invisible line from his sister to Bucky and back.  “Oh hell no, not the two of you. Seriously Sarah the man is old as dirt.” Exasperated huff leaving his mouth, running a hand over his head acting like the prospect pains him.

Partnership somewhere along the years turned into friendship though the banter and good natured ribbing still persisted. Somethings just never change ever over the years. Not that either one of them would. Their brand of team work fit the two of them perfectly and with amazing precision.  

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Samual and keep out of my business in that department,” brow lifting, Sarah grabs for the cardboard box.

Eyes rolling arms crossed over his massive chest everyone else quiet for the moment. “It’s my business since you’re my sister. Can’t have little cyborgs running around here.” Seeing your shoulders shaking, Sam tries to keep the humor from his tone, “I mean think what the neighbors would say Sarah. You’d be going out with a centurion.”

“Actually it’d be centurion plus ten,” Bucky butts in grin sliding over his lips, looking from you to Sarah as his features soften into an almost bashful smile.

“I think it’d be cute the two of them,” you quip reaching to takes Sam’s gloved hand in yours, gaining his attention for a moment.

Shaking his head, “Neither of you are helping any,” though his russet eyes stay with you before an “Oaf,” exists his chest, hand coming up to rub the center of his chest. “Why?”

“For butting in where that overly large nose doesn’t belong. Why don’t you mind your own business and stay outta mine?” Box in her arms, Sarah heads towards the door that Bucky holds open. Looking both men over with a fake exasperated sigh, “Neither of you can go to town in those get ups. Change and meet us at the carnival.”    

Turning back to you with a small pout, “Here you deserved it buddy told you not to snoop in her love life.”

“No sympathy for your fiancé?” Wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you against him, feeling the leather crease with your curves pressed tightly. “She still hits damn hard. Wanna make it feel better?”

Triple groans leave three sets of mouths and you both turn to see Bucky, Cass and AJ making gross faces. Pretending to throw up while holding their stomachs. “No one said you three needed to stay,” sassy tone to your voice. “AJ, Cass your mom is waiting and Buck get up stairs, shower and change the both of you look like shit by the way.” Though worry underlays the tone noticing the slight limp Sam’s sporting, along with a busted lip. Bucky not much better with buries blooming purple along his jaw and eye. Who knew what other injures the two of them acquired from this mission. “Sure hope the other guy’s look worse.”

“Count on that on Y/N,” nodding then he turns to head upstairs following your orders. The boys having already disappeared out the door.

Attention back on Sam, cupping his whiskered cheek, “You need to shave baby, it’s grown since last I saw you.” Brushing your fingers over the soft beard, worry filled eyes locking with his.

“I’ll get right on that sweetheart but first there’s something I’ve been needing to do since I left,” voice quiet drinking in your beauty. Tightening his arms around your waist to pull you a little closer. Captain America’s new flight suit bitting into your cloth covered frame. Circling your arms around his neck and drawing little patterns with your nails on the skin just below the collar of his suit.

Tipping your head to the side, “Oh and what would that be?” Innocent smile tugging your lips. Sure it’s only been three weeks since he left out but that’d been a long three weeks of worry and fear. You trusted his skills and that Bucky would watch his six. It’s the other assholes you didn’t put much faith in. The bruises and scars littering his body a testament to how hard they tried to put him in the ground for good.

“Eat a slice of that heavenly banana bread Sarah makes,” keeping his face neutral as a gasp leaves your lips, making his twitch. Halting your fist from smacking the same place Sarah did. Palm come up to caress your cheek, bringing you close breath ghosting over your trembling lips. “Thought I was serious sweetheart,” words mumbled before slanting his lips over yours.

Gentle to start, just pressing your mouths together finding the right fit and sliding his tongue over the seam of yours. Requesting permission which is granted on a sigh, melting into his arms. Wrapping yours around his shoulders giving over to him those little noises he loves to brag from your throat. Meeting his tongue to tangle and caress each other. Teeth snagging your bottom lip to suck and nibble on a moment while gathering air. Before diving back in deepening the kiss till you’re both breathless and panting. Foreheads resting, eyes staring with goofy little smiles on your faces.

“Missed me didn’t you?”

Teasingly, “Nope don’t know what you mean Mr. Wilson I missed Bucky though.” Giggles bursting from your throat with the groan from Sam. Who drops his head on your shoulder squeezing you closer in a hug. Lips brushing his ear, “You know better than that Sam I always miss you.”

“Tease,” turning his head to press a kiss to your neck right when the car horn sounds making you both groan. “Impatience as always,” pulling back to place on more kiss to your lips. “Go I’ll see you in a bit. Save me some cotton candy?”

“Of course and a ride on the ferries wheel to,” not wanting to let him go but knowing delivers needed to be made. Leaning up on your toes to press one last kiss, “Welcome home my love I missed you.” Before pulling away, grabbing the box and walking over backwards. Watching him as he stares back love shinning in those deep russet eyes. Blowing him a kiss at the door.

“Y’all can trade gooey eyes later Y/N shake a leg we got work to do,” Sarah calls out making Sam shake his head and you to laugh.

Heading for the door, Sam grabs your hand one more time, “Miss you to sweetheart, I love you.”

“Love you more,” quickly pressing forward to give him one more kiss. Jumping off the last step and up into the truck waving as Sarah pulls out heading towards town.

Two hours later, food passed out you and Sarah parked yourself on a picnic bench near the parking lot of the town carnival. Sharing a pretzel with hot mustard while the boys run around working off the sugar high they’ve put themselves in. Gathering crowd catches your eye, smile spreading over your lips at the sight of Sam and Bucky. Pausing to take pictures sign autographs for the kids mainly. Both men cleaning up nicely though your eyes stay with Sam. Dressed casual with a fitted blue Henley top two button’s open and black jeans that hugged his thighs and waist just perfectly. However, it’s his demeanor, laid back at easy with himself and those around him which speaks to you most. Catering to all the children who beg for a photo or signature. Heart expanding when a young mother asks him to hold her baby for a picture. Watching how he cradles the young one to his chest and coos has a small gasp leaving your lips.

“You need to ask him before your ovaries explode while you stare,” teasing cadence in her voice making you whip around to stare at her. Laughter sweet and clear echos around the small area. Beating the table with one hand in her mirth Sarah rests her head on the other.

Heated face buried in your hands hating and loving that Sarah knows you so well. “I can’t help it Sar that man was made to make beautiful babies. Most importantly making them with me,” bottom lip tugged between your teeth, eyes landing back on Sam who’s striding over.    

“I see the two of you have started without us.” Sliding beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

Plucking up the last bite of pretzel to feed him, “Couldn’t wait much longer handsome. What took the two of you so long? Here I thought us women are bad.”

“Went to check on the boat heard it’s been running a little rough,” looking over at Sarah while saying. “We’ll take care of that tomorrow sis it shouldn’t be too hard a fix.”

Nodding, “Should leave it to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“And I don’t?” Faking offense, hand on his chest.

“Last time you tried to fix the boat, you damn near blew it up Sam.” Teasing tenor states from beside Sarah making both women chuckle and Sam rolling his eyes.

“Thanks for backing me up Buck,” glancing over at you then pointing at Bucky. “You believe him thought we were friends I’m wounded.”

Laughing harder, dropping your head on his shoulder while Bucky answers straight faced, “We’re barely partners Wilson I don’t know where you get friends from.”

“Come one,” taking his hand, tugging up up. “You promised me a Ferris wheel ride remember.”

“Where’s the cotton candy?” Getting up Sam wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you wave a goodbye to Sarah and Bucky.

Steering towards a small inclosed trailer, signs advertising cotton candy, kettle corn, deep fried snickers and corn dogs for sale. You step up, pulling your small wallet out but Sam places his hand over yours to pay and grab the paper stick from the vendor.

Snuggling into his arms, walking and sharing the sticky sweet treat. Line thankfully short of the ride, not the most popular with the kids being slow and only one direction. Though for you it holds a special meaning of the first kiss you and Sam ever shared all those years ago.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Nodding the the attendant who holds the little bar up for you and Sam to slip into the metal seat.

Getting as comfortable as one could, arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you against him. “How could I forget that night sweetheart.” Gazing down at you, he leans in to brush his lips over yours, “It was the night I lost my heart.”

“Oh Sam,” happy tears forming in your eyes. “I love you so much.”

“Damn good thing because I love you just as much,” smirking that’s wiped from his mouth when yours pressed back into his. Deepening the kiss, gasping when the wheel comes to a stop at the top giving him the advantage to slide his tongue into the sweet cavern of your mouth. Sampling your favorite and drawing a whimper from your throat.

Breaking on a sigh, “I know it might be too soon but seeing you with AJ and Cass, plus tonight with the little baby you held.” Reaching up to caress his cheek seeing the furrowed brow in confusion. Soft smile spreads over your kiss swollen lips. “I want to try for a baby Sam.”  

First time for everything, Sam Wilson is at a loss for words till the Ferris wheel jerks to a start again slowly. Fear clutching your heart till he turns that mega watt smile on you. Breath lodging in your throat at the unadulterated love shining in those deep russet eyes.

“Can we start tonight?” Catching the smirk tipping one side of his lips up before there on yours insistence and demanding. Stealing any words you’d reply with and transforming them into little whimpers and moans.

Breaking when the ride comes to a stop and someone clears their throat. “Looks like there’s gonna be little Cap’s running around instead of cyborgs.” Good natured chuckle leaving Bucky’s lips watching his best friends kiss.

Foreheads pressed together, sharing gasping breaths, “I’ll take that as a yes?” Moving to place a kiss to your forehead then helping you out to rejoin the family.

[sor-vette]

one, strike!! (index/description)

☜ profiles II

two, down!! ☞

Naturally what was estimated into an hour quickly grew into three hours and naturally, those three hours involved a decent amount of manhandling and lots of loose fists. All in all, you limped your way into the annual celebration late and with a busted lip and a nicely settling lilac shade on the cusp of the jaw. The celebration was nearing the end. There were no speakers on the stage or even in the front row. The crowd had mingled already long before.

Jin is actually the first who you notice in the crowd. Uncharacteristically he’s sitting alone by one of the side tables of the room. In front of him, there’s a small gathering of empty champagne glasses, even as you’re looking he’s playing with the thin stem of the glass, face completely blank. You sidestep into a larger group of people to avoid any eye contact. Namjoon is of course the next.

He’s standing listening to someone unfamiliar to you speak. He nods along with the conversation but you can see his jaw clenched in a death grip. He’ll need a brace soon, you think dryly. The rhythmical bops on the sides of his cheeks were amusing, yes, but not when directed at you. At the moment where your legs hesitate by the banquet table, there rings a shutter sound of a camera. You try to peek as subtly as possible and upon seeing a mop of dark curls sticking above the lens, you dip towards Namjoon. Anything but that. Anything. Yeah, you’d rather deal with angry Namjoon than any jabs of resentment with V. Namjoon, in fact, does notice you and his veins, in fact, do actually start showing. He’s one split hair away from foaming at the mouth. And yet, and yet-

“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetsov, I’d like to meet R.D. It’s the woman I’ve talked to you about earlier in the evening,” earlier when you were supposed to show your ass up. His voice is completely neutral as if you’d showing up late, tousled, and looking like a digested raccoon was part of the plan.

“Sorry for meeting you this late, there was a situation that needed my attention,” even if they’re not placated by the excuse, the polite hmm’s are still given.

“Mr. Kuznetsov had heard how you declined positions in all of the other departments and he was wondering why.” And you once had thought that Jin and Jimin were award-worthy actors... Namjoon doesn’t give off anything, not a single clue. He paraphrases the belated questions so casually as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know that the answer was him all along. Sure, there were other… reasons, other circumstances but no matter how the dice was turned, the primary descent into your suicidal career choice was pushed by Namjoon himself.

“I like the freedom of the cleaner department.”

“Freedom?” Mr. Kuznetsov echoes and you politely wait for his interpreter thinking it’d be rude to intrude on his job.

“Freedom?”

“Yes. There are certain characteristics to other departments that require um… putting on airs? Being a cleaner means I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and I’m largely responsible for my own choices.” Namjoon snorts. It is an ugly, mocking sound.

“Furthermore,” you continue, glaring at him “our department is very friendly and honest. We say what we want and don’t rope people in situations that are only beneficial to us.” Namjoon’s jaw makes an audible tick. For a split second, it seems he has simply managed to dislocate it entirely.

“I thought they were also supposed to be punctual.” He snarks through what was supposed to look like an amicable smile. A miserable fail on his part.

“Yes, they are. It’s just not me. Not a postcard material, you see.” If Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetcov pick up on the rapidly increasing animosity, they at least have the working social sense not to remark on it. Both of them thank you for your answers and then stay a little longer to talk to Namjoon again. At that point, you start to zone out of reality and have something alike Ducktales intro loudly playing in your mind.

When they bid their goodbyes almost twenty minutes later, the re-purposed great conference hall is nearly empty. Jin had disappeared without you seeing. And so has V, thank God. Briefly, you try to find someone else familiar but there is none. Finally, the pair leaves, and Namjoon is left openly fuming. He takes those purposeful, long strides and you almost double in two, growling:

“Don’t you even-!” He does not listen and catches your elbow in a death grip, dragging you to the first exit door into those gray nondescript hallways you loathe. You shove him away unceremoniously.

“Do you enjoy creating a mess? Or are you simply incapable of keeping a promise?” His voice is low, monotone, kicking your self-esteem right underneath Earth’s crust. It was hard - to argue with Namjoon. Just…not impossible. Overall it helped to think of it as the world’s snidest debate match.

“I distinctly remember not promising anything due to this very reason.”

“Your reason being?”

“My direct duties as a custodian.” Namjoon actually snarls.

“To the boy?”

“His name is Erik,” you lightly correct and for some reason, he gives a mirthless laugh. As if that’s faintly amusing.

“You’ve never treated your duties seriously.”

“Actually, I have. You just don’t like it if I do something on my own.” It’s a deja vu at this point. You’ve had this conversation, point by point, five years ago.

A beat of silence passes.

Then another one.

“You’re happy now?” Namjoon asks. You suspect largely to make you feel guilty over something not defined.

“Of course. We just had a perfectly pleasant conversation.” You say matter-of-factly. Yes, it is hard to argue with Namjoon but once you learn that his biggest weakness is someone brushing off all of his righteous fury aside and not let it underneath the skin... Well, it is a couple of hundred steps towards mastery on this very vague debate team.

“Clean yourself up.” He bites his last and stomps away. You wait until he disappears up the exit stairs and let out a long sigh, letting your spine relax.

You turn around all too ready to go home and drown inside your mattress but freeze upon seeing Jimin. He stands quite far away, by appearance having just exited the conference hall. There are faint creases in his face and mute worry reflecting in the eyes. No doubt, he heard at least half the conversation. You both stand awkwardly in the silence of the hallway, each rooted in their own spot. He gives a small smile, an attempt at comfort. So very like Jimin. You lightly shrug as if to say - “it is what it is”. To not look him into the eyes, you turn your head to the top of his head. It is pink now. Looks nice. You point to the top of your own head and give a thumbs up, hoping he’d get what you’re trying to gesture. He does. Jimin gives another smile, a touch shyer as he lowers his eyes in silent gratitude at the compliment but the worry doesn’t decrease.

The conversation if it could be called that ends there and after another heavy sigh, he walks back into the hall.

“Life is like a hurricane, here in, Duckberg,” you bop quietly walking down the empty hallway.

***

Namjoon sags into the chair of his office in total darkness as he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The only faint illumination is provided by the neon lights of the city below. The walk of twenty-five floors has taken all the wind out of him, along with it the anger. Thirty minutes ago he was mumbling it like a mantra in his head. He’d wrangle your neck if you dared to show your face and now he finds the very idea irrational. Jin had said his temper has gotten worse over the course of six years. The unrelenting stress taking a toll, he said. Maybe, maybe it was the stress. But Namjoon begrudgingly had to admit it was you who hit the nail of the problem. He took an issue wherever you or really anyone in his care did things on their own. He was the leader, the face of everything they try to do here. To save the world, that’s what the tag line said. But years after years of trying to save the world and years after years worth of sacrifices piling up, he’d rather start not to save the world but just save someone.

And then you came here, nearly six years ago, forlorn and bent on killing yourself and he lets you into this hellhole. Let's you stay so you could find meaning in the vague promises of being an underground hero, a vigilante. And then when it becomes peaceful when life seems to be good, you take a dive. A dive that just keeps ongoing. And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t trust you. You’ve matured in heaps and bounds and reached a notable level of professionalism within the cleaner department. But the world is another thing. A shelter sometimes can be confining but it is ultimately safe. Isn’t safety better than running around jumping from one risky decision to another for the sake of “living adventurous life”?

Namjoon lets his head drop into the palms of his hands. Lately, this is all he’s been doing. Getting angry and then feeling like a complete villain. A pulse begins to form behind his eyes. The telltale sign of an incoming migraine.

God, he just wants to sleep.

***

“Get out,” you murmur half-heartedly, closing the doors to your small apartment. Pop music blasts inside the apartment with Erik lazily enjoying cherry candy sticks on the top of your bed.

“Oh, you’re home.”

“And you’re here. See how upset that makes me?” Erik stared at your stilled expression.

“Devastating,” he murmurs, “did your get your ass kicked? For being late?”

“Well, as long as never show my face there ever again and die on this very spot, no, I’ve handled it quite well.” He points at you with the red object, voice insinuating a captivating intrigue -

“I’m sorry for tonight but I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations.”

- when it was just plain annoying.

“Instead of thousand sorry’s, I’d like to hear at least once you ask for my permission.”

“You’d say no.”

“I like saying no. It lowers your enthusiasm.”

Erik grumbles something indecipherable. A person busts in through the doors along with the hearty clanging of two bottles smacking against each other.

“What is he doing here?” Irina throws a disapproving look towards the bed.

“No idea.”

“Get out.”

“No, but -”

“Get lost,” you echo Irina.

“Okey-dokey.” And with obnoxious curtsy accompanied with “ladies!” Erik is gone without another whine. You sigh heavily, absent-mindedly poking at the small tower of empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink. There has been no time during the week. You’ve been far too busy spending your free time in alteration between watching old cartoons and staring at a wall.

Irina places her coat and shoes next to her, frowning at the door.

“Why do you even like this kid?” You give a simple shrug. Maybe deep down you know the answer, maybe you don’t but largely you don’t think it matters. Erik was your trainee and that was the end of that. Well, that was how much you were willing to share with the outer world.

“He thinks differently.”

“Isn’t it just the fact that he wears red eyeshadow?” You still for a moment, looking at the paper bags Irina places on your kitchen table.

“Omelas?”

“Yeah.” She puts down the two faded tourist mugs from inside the small kitchen cupboard. I love Vienna and Someone in Paris misses you respectively. You look at the mugs almost apprehensively as if their appearance was somehow offensive but say nothing. They were just mugs after all. Nothing more.

Irina pours the champagne and pops open the white takeout boxes, pushing one in your direction.

“Snagged this from the anniversary party.” She proudly proclaimed, “they had really big banquet tables.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You take a sip of the champagne wincing at the taste. The label of 2004 Philipponnat Clos des Goisses Brut promised its tasters lively energy and tastes of lemon peel, pear, hazelnuts, and mint. What was on your tongue tasted like pure acid. No better than the cheapest energy drink found in the shadiest small stores peppered across the town.

“What are you thinking?”

“The name is obnoxiously long.” Irina huffs while dutifully stuffing her mouth full of chicken.

“No, I meant -” she takes a breath, gulping down on the champagne. For a second you almost worry she’ll end up hacking herself to death at this rate of consumption.

“Did our CEO invite you?”

“Yes.”

“And something happened?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She falls silent. After a moment, she unexpectedly reaches across the table and pushes a bite of her rice into your mouth.

“Let’s never be sad over anyone, okay.” You push the rice on the one side of your cheek to push through a flirtatious -

“Only over you.”

Irina gives a wry smile.

[thatesqcrush]

Team Bonding

Bryan Kneef x Reader. NSFW. Warnings: dub-con, because he’s her superior. Oral sex, vaginal fingering, and fisting. Yes. You read that right. Also squirting. You have been warned. Oh, and this covers ice-skating in my naughty & nice bingo. This is most definitely naughty. 

WC: 2.8K

***

“Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.” A voice boomed from down the hall.

“Stop referring to yourself in third-person you psycho.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards the voice. You paused in front of a decorative mirror in the empty law firm and rubbed lip balm over your lips.

“I told you, Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.”

You rubbed your lips together, and then made way to the lobby, finding the acerbic head of litigation at STR Laurie, sitting in a chair, with a scowl on his face. Which, lets face it, was nothing new for Bryan Kneef.

“Look, I know this is the last thing you wanted to be doing. But your bosses up there, wanted to make the transition with Reddick Boseman smooth.” You pointed towards the ceiling and then pointed back down. “It’s not my fault we got paired up together. You said I could choose what we got to do. I chose ice skating.”

You walked past him and hit the button, calling for the elevator. You crossed your arms and began tapping your foot, irritated. “Well?”

Bryan glowered and then stood. “Fine.”

**

When STR Laurie announced that they wanted to do a team building exercise with Reddick Boseman & Lockhart, you were less than thrilled. The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time with work on your weekend. Especially when you were paired with Bryan. You were not blind, the man was fucking gorgeous and he cropped up in many a fantasy with your battery operated boyfriend. However, his attitude left much to be desired. He would work you and the rest of the paralegal department to the bone. You knew from his bio on the firm website, that he started himself as a paralegal upon graduating from Northwestern Law – you figured he’d be cognizant of how to treat junior staff, probably having been through it himself. Instead, he chose to continue the cycle of asshole treatment. Bryan tried to get out of it himself, but his own boss Gavin Firth told him to make nice and take part – especially if he wanted to keep leading the litigation department and not give it to Diane. Backed into a corner, Bryan reluctantly agreed.

Initially, he had hoped he would be paired with a fellow colleague who he would be able to convince to blow off this event and hit high end bar with. And if not that, he had hoped it was the blonde secretary with big tits two floors down that he could wham, bam, thank you ma’am and then move on from. Instead – he got stuck with you – the mousy senior paralegal. He knew who were – he knew who everyone was. You had worked with him on a few cases before. You were very good at your job but otherwise, left little to the imagination with your baggy, shapeless sacks of dresses and frumpy sweaters. There was no desire for him to try to get under your skirt. Not when there was a bevvy of women and men he could have, just a dial away.

As the elevator went down, Bryan chose to study your profile. Though you were bundled up to the hilt in a white puffer coat and burgundy hat, he could still see your long lashes and lush lips that had a sheen from whatever you put on them. His nose caught the barest whiff of perfume and he had to admit that it smelled lovely. The elevator landed and you walked out first. He was surprised to see a shapely ass under the dark denim fitted jeans you wore.

STR was close to Millennium Park. You both made way through to the ice skating rink, barely a word between you. You were meeting a few other STR/Boseman colleagues and friends from your department who were already there. Bryan paid for the skating rental and soon enough you were both on the ice. You skated towards your friends with ease, leaving the attorney behind, gripping the sides. A look of panic was on his face as he tried to maintain balance. You turned around and let out a derisive laugh before skating back towards him, offering your hand.

“Is the big bad lawyer afraid of a little ice?” You mocked.

“Shut up and leave me alone. I am here, aren’t I? Go back to your friends and go take your pictures. Make fun of me all you want. Come Monday, I am going to bury you all with doc production.” Bryan sneered.

You skated closer to him and offered your hand once more. “Come on, it’s not that hard – watch me.” You stood next to him. “Your knees should always stay slightly bent. That position lowers your center of gravity, stabilizing you. It also helps you to skate without falling. Also, you should always have your weight positioned over your skating leg. One time you’re skating on the right leg, and the next moment on the left one. Every time you switch legs, you must shift your weight so that it’s over the skating leg.”

You demonstrated what you had explained and then repeated it. Bryan looked at you like a deer in headlights. Your lips twitched into a small smile. “Give me your hand.”

Bryan sighed, his breath causing a small puff of air. “Fine.” He grunted and took your hand. Your hand and his hand were encased in gloves and you mourned the idea that you weren’t holding hands bare skin to bare skin. You skated easily and Bryan wobbled a bit behind, but managing to keep pace. However, at one point, another skater flew by catching Bryan off guard and he lost his balance, falling, bringing you down with him.

“Mother fucking cock sucker son of a bitch!” You swore loudly, rubbing the side of your left ankle. “Ugh, I think I twisted it, you jerk!” Tears pricked your eyes.

“You? How about me?” Bryan snapped. “I can’t even get stand up without falling down.”

“Boo hoo asshole.” Two of your friends helped you up and you tried to bear weight but found that you could not. You were helped off the ice and Bryan followed, clambering to get off the ice, using the wall of the rink to help him.

You winced as you remove the skate, examining your ankle. It was starting to swell and the area was tender to touch. Bryan sat next to you, removing his own skates as well.

“How bad is it?” You heard him ask. You looked at him. “It’s sprained.”

For a brief moment, he looked remorseful. And just as quickly as you blinked, it was gone. “I’ll get us a car; I’ll take you home.”

You cocked your brow. “Excuse me, I can get home on my own just fine.” And stubborn as you were, you tried to stand but let out a grimace of pain, plopping back onto the hard bench.

“Let me take you home.” Bryan replied.

“Wonderful.” You seethed. Bryan returned your skates, along with his and brought over you shoes. You smashed your foot into your sneaker as best you could. Bryan offered his arm and begrudgingly, you took it, and limped out of the park. The ride home was uneventful, again with barely any conversation. You hobbled up the stairs rather comically and it was Bryan’s turn to roll his eyes at your pathetic attempt. You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, bridal style.

“What’s your apartment?”

“2D.” You replied mournfully, feeling embarrassed and humiliated that you could barely manage to get around and now you were being carried like a baby. There was a small part of you, however, that squealed inwardly. You clutched onto Bryan, his body solid and warm. He smelled wonderful and you allowed yourself to pretend to be swept away by the handsome lawyer.

**

“I got it from here, you can put me down.” You insisted once you were both inside. You both took off your coats. Bryan swallowed hard – for all the mousy outfits you wore at work, today you wore a form fitting sweater, which showed off the dip of your hip and swells of your tits.

Bryan carefully set you down and sharp pain shot up your leg and you swore again. “Maybe you should see someone.”

“I’ll tape it and ice it,” you reassured Bryan. “I’ll be fine.” This earned you an exasperated sigh. “I will take some ibuprofen,” you added for good measure.

Bryan grumbled in French about you being stubborn as he made way through your apartment. “I heard that, and you’re one to talk,” you replied cheekily, surprising him that you knew another language. Bryan was further surprised at your modest, but overall modern apartment. He liked the exposed brick and thought your small Christmas tree with its large, vintage bulbs was tacky, but charming in a way. He went into your kitchen and rummaged through your freezer, before returning with a bag of frozen peas.

“Put this on your ankle.” Bryan ordered. You took the bag. You propped your ankle onto your coffee table and stuck the bag on. You looked up at him. “I’m good. You can go now – and don’t worry, I’ll be in on Monday. Thanks for the lift.”

Bryan nodded and turned away, making his way back down your hallway. As soon as he did, you attempted to stand and swore loudly once more. Bryan turned on the balls on his feet. “Christ, Y/N, at least wait ‘til I am gone.”

“Wha—hey!” You shouted as he picked you up again, this time over his shoulder, so you were face to his ass. He gave your ass a playful spank and made his way down your other hallway, looking for your bedroom. “Put me down!”

He found it fairly quickly and unceremoniously threw you onto your bed.

“Are you always this stubborn?” He asked, his hands on his hips. He eyed your bedroom. It was small, like the rest of your apartment.

“Are you always a pretentious asshole?” You asked. Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Bryan didn’t respond. Instead, he sat next to you. “I know everyone thinks I am an asshole.” You snorted and Bryan let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, so I am an asshole. But I am still a fucking person.”

“The devil has feelings?” You covered your mouth and then cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Bryan shrugged. “For all the shit I do, yeah, I do.” He turned to you. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt your ankle. And maybe take Monday off – see a doctor. Don’t worry about it. I will make sure it doesn’t count against your PTO.”

You looked at him and you smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

You were suddenly aware that Bryan was in your bedroom, on your bed. He looked debonair in his burgundy sweater and dark jeans. You could see the dark beard with the tiniest flecks of grey. When he began to massage your foot, you felt desire pool in your most intimate of parts.

“Bryan – I…” You swallowed hard. He looked up at you, his green eyes were intense and he gave the slightest nod to you. You leapt into his lap, ignoring the screaming pain of your ankle and kissed him. Bryan kissed you in return and slipped his tongue into your mouth, seeking and exploring. His hands were over your ass, grabbing at your flesh. He gave you a playful squeeze which earned him a moan from you.

A hand moved up and under your sweater, skillfully unhooking your bra and immediately moving to your breasts. He tugged and twisted a nipple, enjoying how you squirmed in his embrace.

“Let me take care of you,” Bryan replied breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting. You removed your sweater and fished off your bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of your shapely breasts. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on them.

“Oh yes,” you agreed, practically purring. “I ache.”

Bryan hummed in acknowledgement. He pushed you back onto the bed and helped you out of your jeans. Slowly his hand made its way back under your underwear, along your hip. Your breathing hitched as his hand moved closer to the apex of your thighs. You were already sopping in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Bryan noted, a single finger stroking you briefly, before slipping inside. You sighed at the feeling of his finger in you. Encouraging, you pushed your panties to the side allowing him greater access.

Bryan slipped another finger inside of you, his tempo quickening. You began moving against his hand, mewling as he continued his ministrations. His fingers pumped in and out of you faster and faster. You cried out in pleasure. Bryan slowed his momentum before removing his fingers completely. You whimpered in protest and Bryan made a big show of sucking on his fingers. “You are delicious.” Bryan commented and you blushed in response.

Leaning over, he grabbed a pillow and encouraged you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you. You spread your legs wantonly and unabashedly. Nipping your thighs, Bryan nestled in between your legs, his tongue in your folds, licking you and swirling his tongue on your swollen clitoris. You groaned, and your hands lost themselves in his dark hair, trying to keep him in place. The added feel of his beard along your sensitive skin only heightened your pleasure.

Bryan hummed in agreement and the vibrations sent shockwaves up your body. You arched your back as his tongue flicked on your clitoris as he slipped two fingers back in, all the way deep to the knuckle. Ignoring your aching ankle, your hips rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers. A third finger slipped inside, stretching you.

“Oh shit! Bryan!”

“That’s right, take it.” Bryan whispered. His thumb rubbed your clitoris haphazardly. You like getting fucked by my hand?”

“Yes, fuck, give it to me!” Your legs were shaking. “I am going to cum.” You groaned.

“Not yet.” Bryan grunted. He withdrew his hand and you whined at the lost contact. “Do you have any lube?”

You looked up at him, curious. “Uh, top drawer. Condoms in there too.”

Bryan winked at you and moved off your bed. As he rummaged through your drawer, you eyed the tent in his pants hungrily.

Bryan removed his shirt, leaving his jeans on. Seeing his thick body, with his dusty rose nipples and smattering of chest hair – he was even more hot than you could have imagined. He spread your legs again and dipped his head once more tasting you. You watched as he drizzled lube along your folds and then over his hand. He tucked his thumb into his palm, tapering his fingers and then slowly penetrated you until his entire hand was inside of you.

You let out a sound that was akin to animalistic howl. “Holy shit, holy shit, oh my God!” Bryan began rock his hand back and forth, fucking you with his fist. You felt so full and all you could think – or even say was more, more, more!

“Cum for me,” Bryan growled, his fingers finding that sweet spot that no one else ever had. You sobbed in pleasure and he dipped his head back between your legs and flicked his tongue against your clit. You came hard, shouting his name, grabbing the sheets haphazardly. Bryan continued to pump in and out of you, while looking up at you. A smirk graced his face, and he stroked that sweet spot once more. Your lungs burned as you gasped for air, feeling tremendous pressure and then release as you squirted all over Bryan’s face. Bryan lapped at you through your orgasm until it subsided. Slowly he removed his fist. Moving back up to you, he pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Suck” he ordered. You sucked on his fingers, tasting yourself.

You nipped Bryan’s fingers playfully and he chuckled, removing them. He pressed a kiss on your lips. “Feeling better?”

“Mmmm much,” you replied grinning. Pushing Bryan gently back onto the bed, you climbed onto him. “But I do think more TLC is in order,” you replied taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. “Up to the challenge, Mr. Kneef?”

Bryan winked. “I think I like my odds.”

FIN.

--

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[kyber-kisses]

Cracked

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spn level gore, cursing, I think that’s it-

Summary: When the reader gets knocked out by a powerful witch, Dean and Sam race to find a cure before it’s too late.

A/n: my first one-shot in who knows how long! I’m so happy I finally wrote something that didn’t turn into a series! Anyways I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (also its hella long, ye be warned)

“Is she still out?”

“Yeah Dean, shes still out.”

Dean let out a string of curse words as he turned his attention back towards the road, his brother sitting in the back seat with a very unconscious Y/N in his arms.

“Dammit. Dammit. Dam-“

“Okay, dude you need to calm down. She still alive, she’s not dying.”

“But what if she is?!” Dean whipped his head around once more to stare at Sam, eyes full of panic. “We don’t know what that witch hit her with!”

“Well can you at least wait to freak out until we actually know what’s going on?”

Flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, Dean let out a huff before falling silent. He tried to push his worry down but as he got closer to Bobby’s house he only felt it rise. Every few seconds he brought his eyes to the rear view mirror, checking on both you and Sam. That witch had been harder than expected to kill and she had knocked you out with some sort of blast, now they were just waiting for whatever effects it brought on.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“She’s kinda getting warm. . . We need to get her back to Bobby’s.”

Clenching his jaw, Dean nodded. “I know, I know I’m trying.” Hissing through his teeth he pressed his foot further down on the gas, the impalas speedometer quickly rising right along with Deans worry.

*. *. *. *. *.

Ten minutes later Dean was practically kicking down the front door of the old hunters home, your body limp in his arms as he quickly moved over the threshold, Sam close behind.

“Bobby?!”

Normally at the sound of his name being called the man would have grumbled and whispered a what now under his breath, but the panic in Deans voice had him shooting out of his desk chair like it was on fire.

“Dean? Sam?”

Dean payed no attention to his name being called, instead moving past the startled old man so he could gently set you down on the old cot in the living room.

“Dammit, man. She’s burning up-“ Deans voice shaking as he pressed the back of his hand to your head.

“What the hell happened?! I thought you guys said the hunt was going fine?” Dropping his book back on the desk he moved across the room towards where you lay unconscious, practically having to pry Dean away from you so he could assess the situation.

“It’s was! And then the evil skank hit her with something and knocked her out cold!”

“And her temperatures been rising for the past ten minutes.” Sam added, dropping their gear bags on the already cluttered floor. “You have any idea what we can do?”

“Not really. Try and keep her fever down until we can figure out what exactly she hit her with?” Bobby shrugged with a sigh. “It’s kinda hard to help her when we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Alright, yeah okay-“ Dena breathed, still slightly out of breath as he wiped the back of his forehead with his hand, already turning towards the kitchen and moving away.

Bobby watched him go with a confused look before turning to Sam. “Is he alright?”

The younger Winchester only shrugged. “I have no idea. He’s been acting like this ever since she went down. Full blown panic and all fidgety. It’s definitely not like him.”

“No. No it ain’t.” Bobby murmured, stepping out of the way as Dean came back, the two watching as he went straight to your bedside and took a seat next to you, putting cold compresses on your forehead and wrists.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Dean weren’t particularly fond of each other. Enemies was too strong a word. . . It was more like you both just found the other to be mildly annoying. And seeing Dean so worried about you? Well that was not normal. Not normal at all.

“Dean, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah why wouldn’t I be?” Quickly whipping his head around he stopped short at the facial expressions he was being given. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Shaking his head, Sam turned towards the hunter besides him. “We should probably start trying to figure out what the hell is happening.”

“I’ll stay here with Y/N, make sure her fever doesn’t spike.”

“Okay. . . We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.” Nudging Sam forward, Bobby gave the older Winchester one last look before departing. The jade eyed hunter still seated at your side, only shifting once to wipe a loose strand of hair away from your face before slipping his hand into yours.

Not normal. Not normal at all

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you woke up it was dark. . . And freezing. Hair rippled erect on your arms as you shivered, slowly blinking yourself into consciousness. Turning your head you quickly realized you were no longer in the witches home but instead in the messy study of one Bobby Singer, the only light either coming from the bay window next to you where a full moon shone bright or from the kitchen across the room.

A small groan escaped your lips as you tried to shift on the cot, a bolt of pain shooting through your head as you did. Falling back once more you peeled the cloth from your head, looking at it with confusion. What the hell had happened? And where was everyone?

Tossing the cloth away you took a deep breath. It was only after did you hear the hushed voices coming from the kitchen.

Up. You needed to get up.

You moved slowly this time, stretching out your body as you sat up. It felt like you were made of lead, every movement taking twice the effort that it normally did. Shrugging it off you swung your legs over the side of the cot, bracing yourself to get up. You shivered once more, this time feeling the cool perspiration on your skin, which was only cooled further when a soft breeze came through the open window.

Standing up slowly you flinched as your feet came into contact with the cold hardwood floors, the old wood squeaking ever so slightly under your weight. Other then that you crossed the room quietly, heading towards the hushed voices just around the corner. Your body felt like it was being weighed down with lead as you walked, a deep ache in your bones accompanying it.

You didn’t feel right. You felt off.

Using the wall as a somewhat support, you rounded the corner into the kitchen, halting in the doorway. Sam, Dean, and Bobby were seated at the small table, all three of their faces buried in books. It was easy to see they were working on something due to the mountains of lore scattered across the surface of the table.

“What are you guys doing?”

At the sound of your voice all work stopped, three heads looking up in unison in your direction.

“Y/N.”

“You’re up!”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together you gave the brothers a confused look. “Yeah, I’m up. What the hell happened?”

Instead of a clear answer, you watched as Sam suddenly stood up, moving across the room towards you. Once close enough he had the back of his hand pressed to your forehead.

“Her fevers gone, that’s good right?” He spoke, looking over his shoulder at his brother and the old hunter.

Swatting his hand away you took a step back. “I’m sorry, fever?”

“Y/N, you had a temperature of 104 for almost three hours.” Dean spoke up, closing the book in front of him so he could give you his attention.

“What?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

With a shrug you leaned your weight against the door frame. “We were in that house trying to find that witch.”

God, why did you feel so weird? It’s like your feet were encased in cement.

“So you don’t remember getting thrown across the room by her?”

“No. And so what if I did? What does me having a fever have to do with getting thrown by a witch?”

There was silence from the three as they looked between each other, clearly arguing silently over who should say something.

“You think she cursed me don't you?” Letting out a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren’t cursed. If you really had a fever that bad then that’s probably why you felt so off.

“How you feeling kid?” This time it was Bobby that spoke up, leaning back in his seat to look at you.

“A little dehydrated, but I’m fine.”

“You sure, cause I feel like you should still be in bed-“

“I’m fine, Dean!”

But clearly you weren’t fine, because not a second later you knees suddenly buckled, your hands reaching out for the door frame so you didn’t crash to the floor. There was a series of shouts and all of a sudden Dean was in front of you, and hoisting you up into his arms before you could fall to the wooden floor.

“I got ya, Sweetheart.”

“Dean! Let me go!”

“Would you just let me help you for once?! I’d rather not see you face plant on the floor.” He fired back, adjusting you in his arms as he carried you back the way you had just came, setting you back down on the cot.

A light switch was flicked on as Bobby and Sam followed behind. “What the hell was that?”

“Like I said, I’m probably just dehydrated.”

“I- I’ll go get you some water.” Dean nodded, hesitating for a moment before backing away and heading back towards the kitchen.

“That was not dehydration and you know it.”

The second he was out of earshot you looked up at the remaining people in the room, ignoring Sams comment.. “Okay, why is he being so nice to me?”

“Trust us, we’ve been asking that same question for the past several hours.” Sam sighed, looking back over his shoulder momentarily.

“No, seriously. Dean and I practically bicker 24/7. And now in the span of two minutes he’s picked me up bridal style and gone to get me water. Is he dying? Am I dying?”

“Ya ain’t dying. . . At least not yet.”

“Wow, thanks Bobby. I feel so much better.” Leaning back on the cot, you took a deep breath. It kinda felt like you were dying now that you thought about it. Your body felt heavier than normal, even your eyelids. You weren’t tired though, so that was out of the question.

“Uh here. Sorry it’s not cold.” Dean sighed, stepping back into the room before handing over a glass of water.

“It’s fine. Thank you, Dean.”

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You kinda scared us earlier.” Sinking down into the chair next to the cot, Dean crossed his arms.

You paused mid sip, lowering the glass from your lips. “I mean, I’m sore- like really, really sore but what else do you expect when you get thrown violently across a room?” Leaning down you put the glass next to the cot before resting your elbows on your knees. “But I also feel. . . God this is gonna sound so weird- I feel heavy.”

“Heavy?”

“Yeah, like my bones are encased in concrete. It’s probably nothi-“ your words suddenly died on your lips as you looked down at your lap, your elbows still resting on your knees.

“Y/N?”

Slowly sitting upright, your eyes widened as you suddenly patted down your thigh. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel your leg at all.

“Uhhh-“

Changing tactics as your panic quickly increased you tried squeezing the muscle, but nothing happened. You didn’t even feel the skin dip under the sudden pressure. It felt solid. Like glass or something.

“Y/N! What the hell is going on?!” Too preoccupied to notice the panic in Deans voice you leaned over to roll up the cuff of your pants.

The trio watched as your eyes widened, unable to clearly see what had you so shocked.

“AHhh!”

“What?”

“AHhH!” You repeated, lifting your leg up and into better lighting, gesturing wildly at your limb.

“What the-“

“Oh my god.”

“Holy shit.”

It was still your leg- but at the same time it wasn’t. The light reflected off of it like it was coated in some sort of gloss, and when you lightly tapped your knuckles against it you were met with la light clink.

The three hunters were crowding around you within seconds. Dean crouched down in front of you slowly, eyes going from your leg to your eyes. “Mind if I-“

You shook your head, allowing the hunter to gently lift your leg to get a better look.

“It looks like. . . Porcelain.” Sam mumbled, kneeling down next to his brother, eyes fixated on your leg. “Can you move it?”

“No.”

“Can you feel anything at all?” Dean tilted his head, running his palm over your solidified calf muscle. You shook your head again, eyes still transfixed on the glossy sheen of your leg.

“So I guess we figured out what kind of curse that witch put on you.”

“No shit, Bobby.”

“I’ll go through the lore, see if I can’t find something.” Sam nodded, popping back onto the heels of his feet before quickly moving back towards the kitchen table, Bobby not far behind.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything?” Dean asked quietly, gently putting your leg back down, your heel hitting the floor with a light clack.

“No.”

“We’re gonna fix this, don’t you worry.” He gave you a soft smile before rising to his feet and giving your hand a squeeze. . . Or at least he tried too. Instead his hand only felt cold porcelain, your hand stiff against his own. The two of you exchanging a worried look before looking down, your hand now the same as you leg.

“Yeah, I really don't want to turn into a fucking porcelain doll.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Whatever curse was infecting you spread slowly, and thankfully; painlessly. The only way you could tell it was spreading was when the soreness in different parts of your body suddenly stopped. And sure enough when you looked, you skin was smooth and glossy. It was an odd thing to look at, normal skin slowly giving way to something else entirely.

In the last few hours it had completely taken both of your legs, the entirety of your left arm and most of your torso as well. Unable to move you were forced to stay on the cot, but thankfully Sam, Dean, and Bobby had moved their research into the study so they could keep an eye on you.

“This sucks ass.” You grumbled, using your one good hand to flip through the pages of one of Bobby’s books on hexs. “Please tell me one of you guys have something.”

“Nope, sorry Y/N.”

You let out another groan before slamming the book shut. “When I turn into a life size doll do me a favor and try not to turn me into some extravagant coat rack or mannequin.”

“Oh don’t worry, I was thinking more of a lawn ornament or scarecrow for you.”

“Haha. Your so funny Dean, really I’m crying from laughter.” You deadpanned, saluting him with a middle finger. “Maybe if I’m lucky and I stay like this I’ll be able to flip you off even in death.”

Turning your head away from the group, you chose to look out the window instead. Beyond the pane of glass rain was coming down in sheets, soaking every inch of the salvage yard. Every once in awhile a lightning strike would light up the sky, followed by claps of thunder that vibrated through your body. But it was really your reflection that got you.

It was beginning to spread to your face. Lucky your neck had yet to be taken by the witches curse allowing you a little mobility, but it was beginning to crawl up the side of your face, your cheeks reflecting the flash of lightning beyond the salvage yard. Using your one good hand, you delicately let your fingers dance across your face, the cool materiel beneath them unable to register the touch. Leaning forward to get a better look at your reflection you lightly pressed your cheekbone, hoping to feel something- anything.

Instead you were met with a sharp crack and you had to bite down on your tongue to keep from crying out in horror, your eyes widening as you quickly brought your hand away from your face.

No,no,no,no,no,no-

“Haha! I think I found something!” Dean exclaimed, hoisting whatever book he had in his lap up into the air, unaware of what had happened a few feet away from him.

“Good. . . Because I think you guys need to hurry.” Your voice was soft as you slowly turned your head to face the group, the tone of it catching everyone's attention.

You watched Sam’s eyes widen along with Bobby’s, Deans book dropping from his hands to loudly smack against the floor.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

“I’m trying not to.” You spoke softly, trying to minimize the movement of your face.

The only proper way to describe it was that you had cracked. Literally. Where your face was once unblemished was now a massive spider crack, the point of impact stemming from your cheekbone and spreading across your temple towards the center of your forehead, along with spreading out over the bridge of your nose and going down to meet the corner of your mouth. The cracks only stopping where porcelain ended and skin began.

Y/N, I’m gonna need you to be really still.” The caution in Deans voice adding to the tension as he slowly and very cautiously got up from his seat.

“N-no problem.” As you breathed in you swore you could feel air seeping through the cracks in your cheek. You shivered.

Slowly kneeling down in front of you, Dean allowed his hands to reach for your face, only to stop a moment later, calloused palms hovering millimeters away from your fractured skin. He was afraid that if he touched you in the slightest you would shatter.

“Sam, take a picture of the spell I found in that book. If you guys leave now you might be able to get all the ingredients in time.” Speaking over his shoulder Dean never took his eyes off you. He wanted to talk to you but he was afraid the movement might make the breakage worse. Instead he slid his hand into your good one. “One squeeze for yes, two for no. Does it hurt?”

Feeling the first tears fill your eyes you squeezed his hand twice, watching as he body relaxed slightly. You were scared. . .and deep down you knew Dean was too.

“Dean, I’ll keep an eye on her. You go with Sam.” Bobby suddenly spoke up, giving the hunters shoulder a squeeze.

“What? No! I can’t leave her here!”

“Son, I got her. You and Sam know your way around that witches house better than I would. You’ve already been there once.”

“But-“

“No buts. Get going, your brothers already out the door with the keys.” Bobby sighed, ushering the older Winchester to his feet.

He got him all the way to the doorway before Dean halted to look back at you.

You looked afraid. . . And he wasn’t used to seeing that in you. He didn’t like it. It made him feel sick.

“Look after her for me?”

“I got it, now get going! clocks a tickin.”

*  *   *   *   *

Sam and Dean has maybe been gone two hours when the old hunter finally spoke up again from his place behind his desk, looking up from whatever he was occupied with.

“That boy worries about you, you know that right?”

Letting out a light huff you rolled your eyes before looking back out the window. The curse had spread more over the past ten half hour, most of your face and neck now the same as the rest of your body.

“He does. Dean may be stubborn and hard to read at times, but it’s easy to see how much he cares about you.”

If your body would have allowed it you would have laughed. Instead you shot him an amused look. . . Or your best attempt at one.

Dean was the last person you would expect to worry about you. You had been nuances to each other for as long as you could remember.

“It took me a little while to see it.” He continued, leaning back in his seat behind his desk. “But I figured him out. You know he came busting in here like the place was on fire earlier, yelling for me with you limp in his arms. I don’t think I’ve seen that boy so afraid in awhile.”

You shook your head, unable to believe it. He was lying. There was no way Dean would be like that with you. That didn’t sound like him at all.

“At first Sam and I were confused as all get out. But like I said, I put two and two together. That idjit has fallen hard for you Y/N.”

A laugh rumbled in the back of your throat at that, you couldn’t help it. How much had that man had to drink?

“I’m serious. You know while you were unconscious he sat with you almost the entire time. Making sure your temperature stayed down, and all that. He held your hand the whole time too. . . Even if he thought Sam and I didn’t notice. That boy was worried beyond all get out.”

Titling your head you gave him an amused glare, one the clearly read old man, you’ve lost it but I find what you’re saying highly amusing.

“Fine, don’t believe an old drunk like me. Half this town thinks I’m crazy already.” He shrugged, reaching across the desk for his beer.

But that was the thing. You wanted to believe him, because deep down you knew you had feelings for the jade eyed hunter. You never found him annoying. . . If anything he was one of your favorite people.

It was maybe twenty minutes later that the front door was thrown open, a hectic Dean flying into the room with Sam hot on his heels.

“We got it! This should turn you back!” Lifting the small vial up he hurried across the room, his steps slightly faltering at the sight of you.

It had gotten worse since he left. The cracks head spread from your face to creep down your neck and collar bone and from what he could see the only parts that hadn’t turned to fine china were your eyes and part of your mouth, along with a little of your neck.

Shaking his head, he moved to sink down next to you on the mattress, unscrewing the lid of the vial. “Alright, tilt your head back, there we go.” Holding the back of you head he slowly emptied the contents of the vial into your parted lips, sending out a silent prayer that it worked.

Once empty he slowly stood up, backing away as he kept his eye on you. “Well, did it work? Is it working?” Turning towards his brother and Bobby in hopes of an answer. The two only shrugged.

“We’re gonna just have to wait and see. These things need time.”

The older Winchester let out a groan before taking his hand through his hair. “I- I can’t. I cant. I’ll be outside if you guys need me.”

Neither man interfered as they watched him turn and walk back out the way they had come. Dean was worried, and he had every right to be.

Dean only made it out the front door before sinking down onto the front steps of the porch. (Porch being way too nice a word since it was more like a few planks of wood resting on some old cinder blocks.) above him the porch light clicked off as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon to the east. It was only then that he realized he had been up all night, a yawn crawling up his throat. He needed you to be alright. If that cure didn't work-

The sky was beginning to shift to dusty shades of pink and orange when the front door clicked open behind him, the old wood wheezing as the person moved towards him.

“How’s she doing?”

“. . .I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”

At the sound of your voice, Deans head whipped around at such a force he swore he heard his neck crack, his green eyes finding you instantly. A sigh of relief left his lips as you sunk down onto the steps besides him. The only sign that you had been cursed at all was the crack shaped bruises on your face and neck, other then that you looked unscathed.

“Y/N-“

“The bruises are fine, Dean.” You smiled, lightly tapping the purples lines on your face. “Feels like I just fell down a flight of stairs, but I am welcoming the soreness.”

Folding his hands in front of him, Dean sucked in a breath as he nodded, eyes fixed on the rising sun. “Good, good.”

There was a small band of silence before you spoke again. “Thank you for saving me. I really didn’t feel like becoming an antique.”

“It wasn’t just me. Bobby and Sam did most of the work.”

“I know, I heard you were too busy holding my hand to help go through the lore.” You grinned, watching as he tensed up besides you, eyes going wide as a deep pink the same color as the sunrise crept across his cheeks.

“Wh-what? No! Who told you that? That- that is crazy talk. I wasn’t holding your hand!”

“Well, if you were I don’t mind.” Casually looping your arm through his, you rested your head against his shoulder. “The sunrise is pretty. Glad I got to see it.”

“Yeah. We don’t watch too many of them do we?”

“No. No we don’t.” The two of you fell silent for awhile, the only sounds being the road off in the distance and birds starting to wake up. It was only then did you lift your head to look at the hunter. In that moment you swear you heart skipped several beats, because for the first time in a long time you saw a soft smile on Dean Winchesters lips, a content one. You were silent for another moment.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Pulling his eyes away from the horizon he looked at you with surprise. “What?”

“I said-“ you leaned forward, “are you gonna kiss me or what?” you repeated with more confidence.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Mhmm. Because here’s the thing, I’ve kinda got these feelings for you.”

“You want to kiss me?” Dean repeated, dumbfounded at what you were saying.

“Well I don’t want to kiss Sam, and I certainly don’t want to kiss Bobby.” You laughed lightly, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you looked at him. For a moment Dean thought you were joking with him, but he knew how you played, and you weren’t playing.

“I think you have terrible taste-“ he murmured, suddenly and very slowly leaning in, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. You were like a magnet, pulling him in.

“I totally agree.” You smirked, heartbeat increasing as the distance closed..

“I thought you hated me.”

“Oh I do, I despise you to my very core.”

“Oh, then I guess I should leave.” Deans grin grew as he slowly began to lean away. This was the kind of playfulness he could get behind.

“How bout you shut up?”

“Mmm, sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you make m-“ the words died on his lips the second yours connected with his. And the first thing he realized was that they were soft and molded together perfectly. As if on autopilot his hands went to your face no longer afraid of shattering you,but still holding you gently because of the bruises. He let out a sigh of relief against your lips when they found skin and not porcelain.

“You can kiss me harder if you want.” You whispered, hands finding the back of his neck.

“Don’t want to break you.” He mumbled, keeping his assault on your lips light and simple. He wanted to savor it, cherish it. It was you after all.

“You won’t.”

“Okay.”

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