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broadwayandnetflix · 3 years ago

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i have a request for bo burnham!!:) maybe like the reader and bo watch the special when he gets done editing it and doing all the other stuff he has to do for it, and he records her reaction to the whole thing and that’s how he announces the special?? i know that’s weird but it’s been stuck in my head, so you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!

Test Run - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: FLUFF (angst if you like squint)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: y’all I wrote this so fast, like kachow. I hope you enjoyed it, and got a break from all of the angst. but angst is still good. but this fic is not me fangirling over inside. never, couldn’t be me. I hope you enjoyed the fic though @bos-a-feminist I had sm fun writing it.

It had been late one evening when Bo had practically burst into the door of your bedroom. You sat puzzled as you gave the man time to catch his breath, as he gave you an eager look.

Trying not to giggle as Bruce yipped at Bo’s feet in pure excitement, it seemed he too was trying to figure out what was going on.

“What? Are we finally gonna have sex again?” you say humorously, causing the man to break composure for just a second.

“No! I mean what the fuck? Yes, yes, and to answer your question, yes. But not right now.”

You giggle as he looks at you with an expression you couldn’t fully decipher. In any constellation, it had been months since you had seen the man this energetic.

Usually, when Bo would come back from his long days in the guest house, he’d tend to be exhausted. Often just giving you a quick kiss before collapsing onto the mattress.

His blue eyes softening towards you as he extends his hand for you to take. Which made you realize that there was an ounce of seriousness in his actions.

Your hands fitting perfectly in his as he pulls you up from the bed, one hand making sure to hold the small of your back.

“Where are we going?” you breathe out.

Bo remained silent, but you found out soon enough as he led you outside to the guest house.

You had stopped dead in your tracks, causing him to do the same. Eyes widening as you realized what was gonna happen, turning to Bo and giving him the biggest grin you could muster.

From the minute he had set foot in the guest house to begin his special, he had been very secretive about it. Something about how it helped him to create something that no one really knew about.

I mean, you had some idea when the UPS trucks kept delivering camera equipment. Or when he had asked if he could take some of your clothes. Other than that, though, top secret.

It had been about roughly a little over a year when he had started the special. A year of emotions and hard work, and by the looks of it.

It seemed as though he had finished.

“Wait are you doing what I think you are doing?” you say, looking at him expectedly.

“Shit babe you catch on quick. Yes, if we are on the same mindset. I think we are, now hush, or I’ll never get to show you it.” Bo instructs before leading you inside.

In all honesty, you didn’t know what to expect. The last time you had seen the guest house had been roughly two years ago. Now? It looked completely different.

Wires and different camera equipment lay waste on the floor, making it almost a hazard. Other lights of various types and sizes filled the room like mini metal trees. It looked disorganized and yet organized at the same time.

Yet Bo walked through the maze of equipment with ease, almost as if it wasn’t even there. You smiled before tiptoeing to the clearing that Bo had made for you.

“Yeah apologies, I wasn’t expecting company.” Bo smirks as you break into laughter.

“It looks…well it looks well used.” you reply, getting comfortable on the chair he had provided.

In front of you sat a projection on the wall of what seemed to be an editing software. You looked back at Bo with an eager grin; he gives you a slight wink.

Anticipation settling in the air as you watched him mess around with the monitor. Until his cursor finally presses on a folder and a video screen pulls up.

You half expected him to sit beside you. Still, instead, he remains behind the computer, amongst his sea of technological instruments and cameras.

“Y/N, I’m showing this to you. Simply because you deserve to see why I’ve been so busy for like a year or more. Plus, you mean the world to me and I wanna know your input.”

Bo says softly. You can detect a hint of nerves in his actions and tone; you practically melt, realizing that was he anxious. Regardless you knew without a shadow of a doubt you were gonna love whatever he puts out.

You open your mouth to reply before he presses play, and an eerie ringing fills the room. Music filling your senses as the special, titled Inside, plays before you.

The next hour or two fills you with a multitude of emotions that you can’t quite place. It seemed like Bo was making you laugh seconds ago, and now you can’t help but feel tears well up in your eyes.

Cinematically it was stunning, breathtaking even. It was hard to believe that Bo had turned the little guest house into a studio. Or at least to the extent that it became, with its gorgeous displays and production.

Performance-wise, it was a completely different ballpark. Bo fucking delivered in more ways than one, whether in humor or just pure raw emotion.

Acting or not, it broke your heart to see the man you loved so dearly in the state that he was in. Of course, you could tell something was up even then when he was filming, but he never gave away the extent of it.

Just hearing him cry made your stomach twist in knots; you wanted to comfort him. Only to be reminded that it was just merely a video of him.

Even at the moment, it took you everything not to look back at Bo; you knew how much he valued your attention. Plus, you wanted to experience the special in full, just as you would if he were on stage.

The special wasn’t the same as his others, but it was well needed for a time like this. It felt personal and introspective, but it was also oh so clever and in-depth. You adored it and the time and effort that he had put into it.

As the credits rolled out and you saw an acknowledgment for your name, your heart soared.

You knew that the two of you had worked hard to be there for each other the past year. Especially with everything that was going on and Bo working most of the time.

To know that you had helped him in any shape or form. It just meant a lot, in more ways than he’d ever know.

The lights in the room flickered on as if he had made a make-shift movie theatre. You wiped away any stray tears, and before he could even say anything, you ran into his arms.

Bo jolting back in surprise before accepting the embrace and holding you tighter into his chest. His head resting gently on top of yours due to his taller stature.

“God I love you so much, more than you’ll ever know. I seriously don’t know if I would’ve made it out alive this past year if I didn’t have you.” he croaked into your hold.

It took you a second to realize that the man was crying, and you pulled away to meet his eyes. Your fingers brushing away his tears before reaching up to give him a kiss.

His figure bending down just a tad to meet your lips as he kisses you back sweetly. It’s light and yet so filled with passion for making up for what time that had been lost.

Yet as he looks down at you, a smile etching across his lips. As he asks you about what your thoughts are on his special, he already knows your response.

Unbeknownst to you, he had recorded your entire viewing experience. Of course, if he were to ever share it anywhere, he’d ask your permission, but it was apparent.

Even as you told him how much you loved it and how much you enjoyed it. You knew that he knew that you understood the special the way he had intended it.

It was one of the many things that made him adore you endlessly. You meant the world to him.

“We should celebrate babe! Maybe order a pizza or something.” you exclaim, arms still wrapped around his neck in your embrace.

“We definitely should, but what pizza places are open at this hour?” Bo smirks as you give him a slight frown.

“I don’t know, that’s a good question.” you hesitate.

“Actually I do know one place that’s really good and delivers.” Bo whispers seductively up against your ear.

You giggle and gesture for him to continue as he swiftly pulls away from your hold. His hand outstretched for you to take once again as he leads you towards the house. Or, more importantly, towards your bedroom.

“Me.”

——————————————————————------------------------------------

Bo sat anxiously beside you as his fingers lingered over the ‘post’ button on his different social media accounts.

The post in question was a video that he stitched together of you watching the special. With your consent, of course.

It had been edited together to be vague enough that he wouldn’t spoil the special. But nonetheless, it was sweet, and he totally made sure to include you tearing up in it.

You made it a priority to tackle him for that one.

The video was sweet and short, but it got the intended message across, and you personally loved it, just like you loved Bo and the special.

“Any-day now Robert.” you tease as you hold his one hand in yours.

“Do you think that they’ll wanna watch it?” he whispers quietly.

“Of course they will, it’s you. Baby you are so talented, your fans will be so excited.” you reassure.

Bo sighs before squeezing your one hand tightly before pressing the button. And letting Inside out into the world.

#@broadwayandnetflix #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham #bo Burnham x you #2021 #fluff #Fanfic Request #inside #make happy #words words words #what

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cryonme · 3 years ago

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐕

PART FIVE- “Just Because They’re Not Here Doesn’t Mean They Stopped Being Wonderful.”

part one here

part two here

part three here

part four here

short series- jj maybank x kook!reader

word count- 4.3k

tw- guns, knives, mentions of weed, stabbing, swearing, mentions of death, fluff 😊, angst 👿, mentions of murder, fighting, drinking, mentions of stitches and hospitals. lmk if I missed anything

a/n- don’t u all love how I said this was gonna be a “short” series and now we’re at 19.2k words total and five parts? and not even done yet? lol. anyway, this chapter is a fucking rollercoaster of emotions and shit gets really real really fast so hold onto your hats, grab some popcorn, and happy reading!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Your friends all stared at you with wide eyes, mouths agape. JJ’s grip tightened on your thigh, you winced a little but he didn’t let up, which you were glad he didn’t.

“Wait, your mom is dead?” John B asked, earning a smack on the back of the head from Sarah.

“You had a sister?!” Pope explained, confusion plastered on his face. “I thought that was just a ru- OW!” A smack from Kiara.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah.”

“You think you know a person then all of the sudden she has a dead mom and sister who were killed by her step brother that you didn’t know about.” John B said, a hint of humor in his voice.

“This isn’t funny, John B.” Sarah scolded.

“It’s fine, Sarah.” You assured your friend. “Look, I know I’m a shit friend for not telling you guys things about my life. Tyler, the abortion, my mom and sister. And I’ll work on getting better at it but all of that isn’t important right now, okay?” You looked between John B and Pope, waiting expectedly before they both nodded and backed off.

“What makes you say that, (Y/n)?” Kie asked you, fully turning her attention to you.

“Well when- um, when Tyler showed up at my house that day,” You swallowed your fear, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath. “When Tyler showed up at my house that day, he said ‘I did everything I could to get my mom to marry your dad. My mom doesn’t know, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, and now you’re ruining everything with your fat fucking mouth.’”

The room was silent. Nobody really knew what to make out of all of this, all this time you had come off so unbothered, like your life was picture perfect and there was never a dark cloud in your sky. Everything that had happened the past couple of weeks came out of nowhere for the group of friends, especially JJ, John B and Pope, who didn’t even know you had a step brother. But when the three thought back on it, they never really asked.

After about a minute of everyone sitting in shock, Sarah spoke up, “Well, we need to tell your dad and Christine, right?’

You shook your head, “Not until I have enough proof. The entire island’s eyes are on me right now and if I’m wrong I make a fool of myself. I know this is gonna sound really stupid but, I need to find Tyler.”

“No.” JJ protested, his voice sharp.

“You’re right, (Y/n). That does sound stupid.” Pope agreed.

“Super stupid.” John B chimed in.

“I love you, but I have never heard more stupid words leave your mouth.” Kiara said.

“Guys, maybe hear her out.” Sarah said.

Kie whipped her head to the side, looking at the blonde girl in bewilderment. “Seriously? I’m not listening to you when all you seem to do is put (Y/n) in more danger.”

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know what the fuck to do!” “You tell someone, dumbass!”

“Jesus, you two! Shut the fuck up!” You interjected, standing up and stomping your foot, ignoring the shooting pain going up your leg.

“I came here because I need help, not to sit here and be judged and have you two fight with each other. Kie, lay off. I begged Sarah not to say anything until I was ready, and promised not to go home until I said something, okay? And you two.” You gestured to John B and Pope, “Telling me I’m stupid for something that I haven’t even explained yet is a little premature. Can we all fucking focus?” You had your time to cry and allow yourself to be broken, but now it was time to get shit done.

Kie shrunk in her seat, muttering a half assed “Sorry” under her breath and crossing her arms. John B and Pope nodded, both boys looking down at their shoes. You sat back down and JJ’s hand returned to its rightful spot on your thigh.

“Now, just, listen to me for a second. We,” You put the emphasis on that word so everyone would be a little bit more open to the idea, “Need to find Tyler so we can somehow record a confession from him. I’ll rile him up, and once I get the confession we get the fuck out. Got it?”

“How the fuck are you gonna find him? Even the Sheriff's department can’t find him.” Sarah said.

“Right,” You responded, “First thing to consider, the police are incompetent, especially here. They probably looked at my house and his job before giving up.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to you talk in awe.

“Second thing to consider, I have his number. I can ask him to meet up and talk it out.”

“The more you talk, the more I really don’t like this plan.” JJ muttered, raking his fingers through his hair.

“The more you talk, the more I wanna kick your teeth in.” You smiled sweetly, “This is the only way.” You tried pulling a joke, but JJ’s face remained concerned, so your face fell and you leaned into him. “I’ll be okay, JJ. I’ve been dealing with Tyler for years, okay?”

JJ nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling away from you.

“So what can we do?”

“Wherever I meet up with Tyler, I need you all to be on standby. Someone on lookout, someone hiding near me just in case things go south, and someone waiting in the vam.”

Everyone agreed in unison, nodding their heads. “Anything we can to get this asshole put away.” John B said, giving you an encouraging smile.

After going over a few details, and finally sending the text to Tyler that you wanted to meet up, the pogues dispersed around the chateau. Pope was talking Sarah’s ear off about the latest book he had just finished while she politely listened and even threw in a couple of her own thoughts, John B and Kie playfully jabbed long sticks at each other, and JJ stood on the porch, watching you swing by yourself on the hammock, lost in thought. He was trying to decide if he should approach you, or give you space. Just then you turned your head and made eye contact with the blond boy, a soft smile on your face, your signature red lipstick back where it belongs.

Fuck space.

He bounded down the stairs and made his way over to you on the hammock, plopping down next to you. Neither of you said anything for a couple minutes, there wasn’t much to say.

“I was 14.” You said, breaking the silence, causing JJ’s head to turn towards you. He stayed silent as you continued.

“Hit and run.” You laughed bitterly. “My little sister was 12. We were finally getting to the point where we didn’t fight everyday, we were becoming friends. She had just started asking me for advice about boys and was always asking to have sleepovers.” You smiled, remembering your little sister fondly. “It still hurts. It’ll always hurt, I think. But, I’ve learned I can’t change what happened, and I try to be thankful for the time I had with her. I would say she probably wouldn’t want me to be sad, but that’s not true, she loved attention.” JJ laughed with you this time.

“What’s her name?” JJ asked.

“Layla.” You responded, her name feeling weird on your tongue. You hadn’t said her name in years. “And my mom, gosh there was no one like my mom.” JJ wasn’t asking, but you were telling.

“She just always understood, you know? She’d let me stay home if my mind was taking over, she continued to buy the ice cream I told her was my favorite when I was 7, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t like it anymore.” You frowned, staring at your hands. “Christine is great, I love her with everything in me. But sometimes I wish she was in my life under different circumstances.”

JJ nodded in understanding, taking his hand in yours and pressing a lingering kiss to it. “They sound wonderful.”

“They are- were.”

JJ shook his head, “Just because they’re not here doesn’t mean they stopped being wonderful.”

You yanked JJ’s hand so his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaned into him, earning a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re sweet, princess.” You teased, using the nickname that you would use when the two of you fought.

“Tell anyone and you’re dead meat, baby.”

You laughed, resting your head on his chest. “What changed your mind about me?” You asked, biting your bottom lip.

JJ thought for a moment, mulling over his words to avoid saying the wrong thing.

“I never changed my mind.”

Your heart dropped as you began to pull away, feeling embarrassed.

“Uh uh uh, let me finish.” JJ pulled you back against him and you huffed. “I never changed my mind because I’ve felt this way about you all along. I’ve never had such strong feelings for a person before, so when you came along I mistook all of the signs as hatred. My mom left and my dad…” JJ trailed off for a moment, trying to put together his words in the least concerning way possible, “My dad takes his anger out on me. And I just never really learned how to receive love, or how to understand it.”

Your heart sank at JJ’s words. All those times he’d show up to the Chateau with bruises and scrapes, telling everyone to fuck off instead of boasting about how he “totally kicked that kooks ass”, it was his dad.

“JJ-”

“Mmm, let’s not do that now, yeah? Just know I’ve adored you this whole time, I was just too stupid to see it.”

“When did you change your mind about me?” JJ asked.

You pondered for a moment, thinking back on when you first started thinking of JJ differently.

“That night at the Boneyard, when Tyler showed up. I was dancing with Pope and all I could think was, ‘I need JJ’, and then there you were. I didn’t want you to ever leave my side again. When you took me back to the Chateau and sat me down on the couch, I was confused because I felt so safe and loved, more than I ever have. It was so out of the blue. Hours before we had just been screaming at each other and then I never wanted you to let me go.”

“You’re making this really hard, Red.” JJ huffed, running a hand over his face.

“What?” You asked craning your neck to look up at him.

“Not kissing you.”

You sat up from your position on his chest, turning your body so you were facing each other, your legs hanging off one side of the hammock and his off the other.

“Then kiss me.”

“(Y/n)...”

“What, scared?”

JJ didn’t say anything, he just looked at you. You had that striking red grin, and your eyes held that glint of mischief and joy.

“You were just inconsolable like, an hour ago.”

“But I’m not now.”

“I-”

“Please, JJ.” You pouted, your eyes big and your frown deep as you slowly reached for him.

And he couldn’t say no to that face.

He slowly brought his hand up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek as his face slowly leaned into yours, his hand softly pulling you closer by the neck. You brought one hand up to the back of his neck, burying your fingers in his hair as his other hand found its place on your waist. You stared at each other for a moment, noses barely touching. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it was about to crawl out of your throat, the anticipation was driving you crazy but you were also cherishing every second of it, just being so close to him, knowing what’s about to happen.

His lips just barely brushed over yours and your entire body erupted in butterflies, goosebumps dancing all up and down your arms and legs.

“You fucker.” You teased and JJ giggled before fully planting his lips on yours. You felt like you had been on fire and had been dumped into an ice bath. The relief that covered your entire body and soul was something you had never felt before. You had kissed plenty of people in your lifetime, and nothing had ever compared to the feeling you had kissing JJ.

You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, but JJ whined and pulled you back into him, bringing you to sit on his lap as he continued to kiss you. You both giggled and broke apart when you nearly toppled out of the hammock, JJ’s hands immediately steadying you. He looked up at you while stroking your cheekbone with his thumb before planting soft kisses to your arm, trailing his lips up to your shoulder, neck, cheek and finally one last sweet kiss on your lips.

“Well it’s about goddamn time!” John B yelled as the rest of the pogues whooped and hollered, jumping up and down. Both of you flipped off your friends and JJ kissed you once more, your middle fingers still in the air.

“You’re fucking incredible.” JJ muttered once you broke yet another kiss.

“I know.” You smirked.

Once JJ helped you off the hammock, with a lot of wincing and you telling him his kissing made your bruised lip hurt, you made your way back over to your friends, an unmistakable feeling of joy filling everyone’s hearts.

John B handed you and JJ a beer, which you had to decline because of your concussion, much to your dismay, but you gladly took the joint that Kie offered you, blowing out the smoke into JJ’s mouth before taking the hit for yourself. The sun started to set on the Chateau, so Pope and John B set up a fire and Kie brought out her ukulele, her and Sarah singing in harmony to Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. Your heart swelled in your chest listening to JJ quietly singing along with his arm slung around your shoulders, his face was tinted the slightest shade of pink from being in the sun all day, making his eyes look impossibly more blue. You knew tomorrow brought troubles and anxiety, but you pushed them to the back of your mind, enjoying this beautiful moment with your friends. You rested your head on JJ’s shoulder, your hand coming up to hold his that was around your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on his hand. JJ blushed and squeezed you just a little bit tighter.

“(Y/n), you staying the night?”

You smiled and nodded, your eyes a bit droopy from the weed. You had texted Christine already, telling her you were staying the night and assuring her that everyone was staying the night and you were safe.

“Yes!” Sarah exclaimed, getting up from her spot next to John B. “More beer?” Everyone apart from you nodded as Sarah made her way inside the house to grab more cold beer.

“Aw, well if it isn’t the goonies.”

That voice.

Tyler approached the Chateau, Topper, Kelce and Rafe hot on his heels.

Everyone stood up immediately, JJ pushed you behind him without a second thought.

“Heard my baby sister wanted to meet up tonight, thought I’d come to her, spare her the trouble.” Tyler said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were appreciative of JJ’s protectiveness over you, but this was your fight. “I know what you did, Tyler.” You said, trying your hardest to hide the shakiness in your voice as you pushed JJ out of your way, taking a couple steps forward.

“There she is!” Tyler exclaimed, gesturing his arms to you. “You don’t know shit, dumbass.”

“You killed my mom and sister.”

“Me?” Tyler raised a hand to his chest in shock and turned to his friends, who all shook their heads like you were crazy. “I would never do such a thing.” “You said-”

“Did you hit your head too hard the other day? Sounds to me like you’re making things up.”

He was trying to make you feel crazy, and you weren’t putting up with it.

“What was your plan, huh?” You asked, standing your ground. “Hit my mom and my little sister with your car, devastating my family so my dad could go running into your unknowing mother’s arms. Were you gonna kill all of us next so you could get the money? How exactly did you plan on doing that?”

Tyler’s chest was heaving up and down, sharp breaths coming in and out of his nose.

“Layla was 12 years old, you psychopath.”

“I never meant to kill your fucking sister!”

And there it was. Eerie silence fell over the Chateau like a heavy blanket.

“You motherfucker.” You shrieked, stomping forward and sending your hand flying across his cheek. Before you could even blink, Tyler had his hand around your throat and the barrel of a gun pressed to your jaw. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. You could see the pogues, Kiara with a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes, hugging Sarah close to her, John B and Pope holding JJ back, his eyes wild with anger and fear. You could see Topper and Kelce with wide eyes, obviously unaware of the gun in your step brother's possession. You could see Rafe with a knowing grin on his face. Bastard.

You were terrified, panic surging through your body as you tried to stay still so you wouldn’t anger him with any sudden movements.

“Any of you even think about moving and I kill her!” He screamed.

“Tyler, put the gun down man, what the fuck?” Topper said, his voice calm, trying to talk him down.

“Fuck you!”

And suddenly Tyler was on the ground, the gun flying into the darkness. JJ wasted no time running to your step brother, grabbing him by his shirt collar and beating his face with his fists. You and Rafe made eye contact before both of you made a break for the gun, scrambling through the darkness. Rafe tackled you down and tried to reach for it, but you kneed him in the crotch, hoping to buy you a couple seconds. The Cameron boy groaned and held his area, toppling over and whining in a fetal position.

“Pussy boy.” You rolled your eyes and crawled toward the gun, smiling once it was in your grip before Rafe pulled you back by your ankle. You flipped over onto your back and pointed the gun at him.

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Self defense, bitch. Now get off of me.”

Rafe backed up with his hands in the air and you made your way back to the group, gun in hand, still pointed at Rafe. Tyler and JJ were going at it, both throwing punches and kicks, the rest of the group fighting off Topper and Kelce.

“Back off my friends or I'll shoot!” You yelled, and everyone stopped and turned to you with your gun pointed at Rafe. The three kooks backed off with their hands up in surrender.

“You won’t shoot me, Little Red.” Tyler said, walking closer to you.

“I will if you try anything.” You responded, taking the gun off of Rafe and shoving him forward so he was still in your eyesight, now pointing it at Tyler.

“You stay away from her!” JJ yelled, charging towards Tyler but quickly being held back by Rafe and Topper.

Tyler got so close to you that the gun was touching his t-shirt.

Why was he testing you? He had to have something up his sleeve.

The motherfucker literally had something up his sleeve.

Tyler tore a switchblade out of his jacket sleeve and jabbed it into your collarbone, and in the same second you fired the gun.

Your brain felt fuzzy, you couldn’t even feel the knife in your collarbone, the only way you knew it was there was because you could see it sticking out of the corner of your eye.

You heard screams, multiple screams.

Footsteps running away.

Was someone crying?

Were you crying?

Everyone ran to you, JJ leading the group, so he got to you first. He immediately put his hands on your face, frantically searching your eyes before you dropped to your knees, JJ following suit.

“Baby, look at me.” He said firmly. Someone gently took the gun from your hands, why were you still holding it? You brought your hand up to touch the knife, crying out in pain from the smallest touch.

“No, don’t touch it, okay? Leave it alone, paramedics are on their way okay?”

You still didn’t look at him, your eyes were wide as you stared at everyone around you, their faces full of concern.

“She’s in shock.” Pope stated. He was crouched in front of you, next to JJ. “Try to bring her back to reality.”

“How the fuck do I do that?” JJ snapped.

“Chill, JJ! Talk to her, touch her, anything!”

JJ’s left hand continued to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch as his right hand threaded through your hair. “You’re okay, okay? Can you talk to me?” His voice broke, tears beginning to fill his blue eyes.

Your eyes wandered away from the group and landed on Tyler’s body, lifeless. You let out a gasp as if all of the wind had been knocked out of your body.

“I killed him.” You rasped.

JJ quickly moved in front of the body, blocking your view of him. Your breathing was shallow as you brought your hands up to your neck, trying to claw at the skin to make way for you to breathe. Pope’s hands gently grabbed yours, moving them away from your neck and holding them in your lap. JJ gave him a thankful nod and he situated himself in front of you.

“Christine-” Your body flooded with guilt and sadness for your stepmom, that was her son. He may have done unspeakable things to you and her family but that was her son. And you killed him.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh,” JJ was quick to stop the terrible thought. “You had to, okay? She’ll understand. Just focus on me, baby.”

You nodded and squeezed Pope’s hands, focusing your eyes on JJ’s.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. Just a couple more minutes, okay?”

You nodded again. The pain in your collarbone was beginning to worsen as your shock wore off and you whimpered.

Great, you thought, another fucking injury to make my life even better.

Really your whole body hurt, your concussion and bruises worsening and stitches ripping open from Rafe tackling you to the ground.

“It hurts.” You whine, a single tear escaping from your eye, JJ wiped it before it could run down your face. “I know.” He whispered. “I know, my love, I’m so sorry.” He rested his forehead on yours, trying his best to give you as much comfort as he could without pulling you against him and driving the blade further in.

“Fuck, you guys. We didn’t get a recording.” Kie said, slapping her palm against her forehead. You removed one hand from Pope’s and worked through your pain and brought your phone out of your back pocket, tossing it on the ground, not having enough strength to hand it to her.

John B picked it up and smiled, your phone had been recording the entire time, starting just a minute after Tyler made himself known at the Chateau.

“(Y/n), you magnificent kook.” John B said, giving your arm a squeeze. You had moved your forehead to rest on JJ’s shoulder, your body posed awkwardly to avoid the knife being touched, one hand still in Pope’s.

Everyone was relieved, but the dead body in their presence and the knife in your body made it hard to be completely relieved. Once the paramedics and police arrived, JJ had to release you from his hold, watching the paramedics put you on the gurney and load you in the back of the ambulance, by yourself, for the second time.

Kiara and Pope were talking to the police, showing them the proof on your phone and the gun and walking them through everything that happened while JJ watched the ambulance drive away, as soon as it was out of sight he broke down, John B quick to pull his friend into his arms, Sarah gently leaned her head on his back, her hand coming up to stroke his back

“She doesn’t deserve any of this.” JJ cried, holding onto his best friend. He knew you were gonna be okay, the paramedics said the knife would be easy to remove and they could stitch up the wound easily, but he was worried about you. You would never be the same.

“She doesn’t.” John B agreed.

“I just want her to be okay.”

“I know, bubba, me too.” John B replied, his own tears brimming in his eyes, “She will be.”

JJ could feel Sarah shaking against him, her tears wetting his shirt and he unravelved in arm from John B to bring her into the hug. “Get in here, kook princess.” JJ teased through his tears. Pope and Kiara soon joined the group hug, comforting their friends through touch.

“What did Shoupe say?” JJ asked once they all pulled away, wiping at his tears.

“They said (Y/n)’s okay, a very obvious case of self defense, but they’re still going to ask her a couple questions once she’s of sound mind.” Pope answered and Kiara nodded.

“Thank God.” Sarah breathed out and JJ’s shoulders relaxed in relief, one less thing to worry about.

“Well why are we all just standing here?” John B asked after a couple moments of silence. “Let’s go see our girl.”

“I am still meeeeee you are still youuuuu” I couldn’t get that damn song out of my head while I was writing this

my masterlist

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latetaektalk · 4 years ago

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(he)art thief | jjk [i, preview]

“jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?

genre: heist! AU, thief! jungkook, art curator daughter! oc, ocean’s! AU, fluff, angst, sexual themes/implied smut (in later chapters)

pairing: jungkook x female reader

estimated word count: 35 to 40k

warnings: cursing/swearing, a bit of alcohol consumption

a/n: this is loosely based off the ocean’s film! to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask/message! also, gureum is jungkook’s dog! and thank you to movie club for helping me come up with this amazing title!!

coming sunday, may 30th 2021

Jungkook avoids playgrounds.

Does so because when he was at the tender age of just seven, he fell off a swing. He ended up in the hospital (his first but not last visit); seven stitches, his mother told him, but he could swear it was a million.

Needless to say, Jungkook has been avoiding playgrounds like the plague ever since.

But here he is, in the middle of one, dog leash in his hand, and heart pounding in his chest so violently it might just explode.

A mob of boys runs past him, all of them no older than six—which means that, for the most part at least, they’re harmless—but still, Jungkook flinches. It’s embarrassing, even more so because Gureum turns and stares at him. If one of them should flinch, it should be Gureum, with him being a dog and Jungkook a full grown adult, but God, today is just not his day. He’s stressed! Out of it! Nervous! A wreck-

“Did you just flinch?”

Jungkook feels his heart drop. Fuck, he thought he walked out of sight!

“No, I didn’t, Tae,” he hisses, pressing the earpiece further into his ear.

“You flinched! We can still see you- ah, okay, not anymore. But we saw that-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely did not flinch-”

“Denying it is pointless. We all saw it. Back me up here, Jimin.”

“You definitely flinched.”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, is about to walk back to the car and tell them that they must be hallucinating because he definitely did not flinch when-

“Can you see her already, Kook?” Namjoon asks and for a moment, Jungkook forgot why he is here, you.

He looks around himself, and it doesn’t take him long to find you, sitting on a bench, under a big tree, soft shadows dancing on your skin.

“Yeah, I-I see her,” Jungkook says under his breath.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna need you to focus up then,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook nods like Namjoon could see him.

“Yeah, if you screw this up, it’s your fault if we end up in jail-”

“Tae!” Namjoon warns, and judging from the ‘ow’ that follows, someone punched him. Jungkook’s guess is Jimin.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come,” Namjoon mumbles and runs a hand down his face. “Hey, Kook, don’t listen to Tae, yeah? He’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jungkook mutters, and he means it. He really does know that Taehyung is messing with him, but there’s a part of him that takes it to heart, that is worried sick about how he’s going to fuck this up and be the reason for why they all end up in jail.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Jimin cuts in, taking the phone from Namjoon. “We’ve got your back. All you have to do is repeat after me, say what I say. You’ve got this. Remember what I taught you?”

“Always smile and laugh and never talk about yourself. Keep the conversation about the other person because people love talking about themselves,” Jungkook repeats, and looks at you again, heart heavy in his chest.

He shouldn’t feel like this, wishes he wouldn’t. But he can’t help it. This isn’t how he imagined he’d meet you. Jungkook thought he’d meet you at some fancy event, sipping expensive champagne, or at some luxury clothing store maxing out your parents’ credit card—after all, your mother is a world famous art curator. But instead you spend your time at playgrounds, babysitting.

There’s actually no reason for Jungkook to be this nervous. Jimin did practise with him this exact scenario, but he can’t help but think that with a flute in his hands and some alcohol buzzing through his system, he’d feel more comfortable. But here he is, in the middle of a sea of children.

“Kook, do you copy?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t…” Jungkook pauses. He shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t listening.

“Get your head in the game, please,” Namjoon tells him over the earpiece.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m here,” Jungkook says and starts to walk again even though he still feels fucking lost as a goddamn adult at a playground. Gureum follows him when he tugs on the dog leash.

“Okay, good. Just- just try your best,” Namjoon says, voice a bit muffled. “You’ve got this.”

Jungkook could swear that there’s a waiver to his words.

“Don’t worry. We’re here,” Taehyung tells him before Jungkook can think about it too much, distracting him from the quiver he heard.

He stops behind a tree, close enough for Gureum to spot you, but not close enough for you to spot them. His knees crack when he kneels down to stroke Gureum’s ear.

“Hey, Gureum? I’m gonna unleash you in a second and then I’m gonna need you to run towards,” Jungkook points as discreetly as possible to you, “her, yeah? Just like we practised? Remember? Remember how you ran towards Seok and Yoongi? Do it exactly like that again, okay? If you do, I’ll get you your favourite treat.”

Gureum doesn’t run away instantly when Jungkook unclips him because he’s trained, but when he points at you and whistles, he’s gone.

You react surprisingly calm to a dog barreling towards you, barely flinching. You lean down and greet Gureum.

“Approaching target now,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and can only faintly register how Namjoon tells Taehyung to be quiet from now on, all of his attention on the mission now.

With the leash in his hand, Jungkook jogs towards you, heaving extra hard to sell the act of a dog-owner-who-has-been-chasing-his-dog-for-the-last-ten-minutes to you.

You look up to him when he stops in front of you, eyeing him. Jungkook stands there, bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Uh…. hi,” you start, brows pinched together.

Jungkook puts on his most charming smile, ignoring his thumping heart to the best of his abilities.

“Hi.”

“Oh, we’re starting- okay, showtime: I’m sorry, are you okay? My dog- he just ran and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry,” Jimin says in his ear.

“I-I’m so sorry.” There’s a quiver to Jungkook’s voice, and it isn’t on purpose. “Are you okay? He just ran and I-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a small smile, still petting Gureum who has clearly taken a liking to you. During practise with Seokjin and Yoongi, Gureum always ran back to Jungkook, but now he’s staying at your feet, relishing in your pets. “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, yes, it is. I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a second, but then he ran away and I couldn’t catch up with him. Are you okay?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a moment, thinking it was okay, but-”

“Can you prove it?” you interrupt and Jungkook pauses. “I mean that it’s your dog. It’s just that he isn’t really reacting to you, you know?”

Jimin’s response comes a bit late. “Oh, yes, I can. His name’s Gureum and he is- what’s the breed of your dog again? I don’t remember. If you look at his collar, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, I can,” Jungkook smiles, wiping the non existent sweat from his temple. “His name’s Gureum and he’s a white Maltese dog. If you look at his collar, you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

You actually look at the collar and part of Jungkook is offended that you don’t just believe him. Does he look like a liar to you? “Actually, I have pictures too-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I believe you,” you say before gesturing for Gureum to go back to Jungkook. He does, but somewhat reluctantly and Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret this.

“Ask her if she’s okay again.”

“Are you really okay?” Jungkook says and offers you a smile the way Jimin taught him to. “I really am sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him and wave him off. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it. Just leash your dog.”

And then, you turn away from him. Jungkook stands there awkwardly for another moment before kneeling down to Gureum, absentmindedly petting him, mind filled with questions because what now? How does he communicate to the others that you turned away from him? That the conversation has ended and he has no idea how to start it again?

“What’s going on Kook? Is she smiling-”

“Ah, Gureum, no,” Jungkook cuts in. “Don’t turn away- I can’t leash you if you do that. Don’t turn away.”

“Oh, shit, she turned away, huh?”

“What now, Jimin?”

“Shush, Joon. Let me think, yeah?”

Jungkook fiddles with the leash like he has a problem clipping it, hoping that maybe you’re going to offer him your help. You don’t. And why would you? He’s an adult after all.

Before Jimin can come up with anything though, the solution to the problem presents itself. It comes in the form of a girl running and tripping right next to Jungkook and him catching her just in time before she can faceplant in the dirt and scrape her knees open.

“Oh, hey, careful here!” Jungkook brings the girl back up on her two feet. She stares at him with big eyes, and he recognises her from the pictures. It’s Siyeon, the seven year old girl you babysit regularly, the reason why you’re spending your afternoon at a playground today. ”You okay?”

“Kook, what’s happening right now?” Namjoon asks.

Siyeon looks at you, and you’re already kneeling beside her, fixing her hair.

“Siyeon, I told you not to run. See, you almost fell now!” You say it the same way a mother would, less strict though. “If he hadn’t caught you, you would have hurt yourself, wouldn’t you have? Now, what do you say?”

“T-thank you,” Siyeon mumbles, and Jungkook isn’t sure if she’s staring at her hands because she’s embarrassed or just about to cry.

“Who’s that? Who are you talking to? Who’s he talking to?”

“Was that a kid?”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks Siyeon, ignoring Namjoon and Taehyung to the best of his abilities.

“Y-yes, thank you.” She won’t look at him.

Jungkook smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you didn’t get hurt there.”

“Kook, answer please. Do you need help?”

“Should we interfere?”

Jungkook’s about to snap. Does it seriously sound like he needs help? He’s talking to a seven year old, for fuck’s sake! Sure, he didn’t practise this scenario, but God, he was capable of improvising!

“Thank you. She’s really clumsy,” you say to Jungkook.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m like that too. After all, I let,” he looks down at Gureum and finishes his sentence by gesturing to him and then you. You laugh.

And that’s when Siyeon seems to notice Gureum for the first time, eyes growing big at his sight like she has never seen a dog before. A chance.

“His name’s Gureum. You wanna-”

“Do you think we should go over there? See if he’s okay?”

And with that, Jungkook snaps. Yoongi is going to give him an earful for destroying his oh so precious equipment, but he can’t do this any longer with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung in his ear. So in one smooth movement, Jungkook digs out the earpiece and crushes it between his fingers, hiding it in his hand.

“Sorry, a fly, I think,” Jungkook says, swatting at his ear, and before you can think about it, he moves on. “Do you wanna pet Gureum, S- Is it okay if I call you Siyeon?”

Siyeon stares at Jungkook like he can’t believe he just asked her that. It’s probably the first time an adult has asked her for permission to call her by her name, and she seems to appreciate it immensely because she beams at him and gives him a huge nod.

“Okay, Siyeon, do you maybe wanna pet Gureum? He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jungkook can feel your eyes on him. He’s doing it, charming you!

Siyeon turns to you.

“Can I-?”

You hum. “If Gureum is okay with it-”

Siyeon kneels down. “Hello, Mr Gureum. Sir, can I please pet you?”

Jungkook melts, and so do you.

Receiving no response from Gureum, Siyeon looks back up to you. Jungkook quickly takes his paw and waves. “Hello, Mrs Siyeon, if you promise not to hurt me, you can pet me. I like it especially if humans pet me at the back of my head. Just, please, be nice to me.”

In all of the years he has had Gureum, Jungkook has never tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t sound like a chain smoker. It’s a questionable choice, but he doesn’t regret it. Because not only does it make Siyeon laugh, it also elicits a chuckle from you.

You look at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, and you two rise to your feet when Siyeon starts to pet Gureum and he doesn’t bite her.

“Well,” you stretch out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook swallows the ‘I know’ that wants to slip him and takes your hand. He has to stop himself from bursting with pride, only allowing his smile to grow into a blinding grin.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. It’s really nice to meet you. “I’m Jungkook.”

coming sunday, may 30th 2021

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook #bts #linh.preview #(he)art thief

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Strawberry - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi love! I adore your daryl dixon works and i was wondering if i would be able to request a scenario where you risk your life to save a baby that you found and daryl’s reaction (you still survive but it was a narrow escape) to your maternal instincts? 

A/N: I think I went a little off course with this one. To be fair, I tried it out three different ways and settled on this so hopefully it’s good.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The atmosphere at camp had taken a relatively negative turn after you’d gotten back from the run with Daryl. It didn’t help that you were injured, cuts so deep on your leg that if Daryl hadn’t vouched for them being caused by barbed wire you were sure Shane would’ve shot you on the spot, convinced you’d been bitten. Hershel had to stitch you up and you could hear Andrea bitching the entire time, voice carrying through the door, that this was all a liability. You, your recklessness, your injury, and, most importantly, the baby that you were holding on your lap for the entirety of Hershel’s work.

A little girl without a name, she was wearing pink corduroy overalls with strawberries embroidered into them. The run, which should have been routine, had taken you and Daryl further into town. He’d been spending a lot of time looking for Sophia but when Glenn injured his ankle on a run, Rick nominated you and Daryl to head out in search of supplies.

“When I told you to bring back whatever you could find,” Rick said, watching the baby skeptically, “I didn’t mean a baby.”

She was little more than five months old you guessed, trapped in a car seat in the back of an old Volkswagen that Glenn told you hadn’t been there when he passed through before. “Must’ve been other survivors, travelling through the area.” Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the baby and on your decision to save her, at great personal risk to yourself, but you tuned most of them out. Aside from situationally, most of these people weren’t ones you would ever actually spend time with and you didn’t care if the Andrea’s of the world passed judgement on your personal convictions.

“How’s she doing?” The only one who had been surprisingly without criticism of your actions was the one person you had expected to admonish you for being reckless. Daryl sat down on the porch steps beside you, crossbow on his lap.

You had seen the baby trying to outrun a hoard of walkers and get back to Daryl’s bike. She was inside the car, crying, and you had doubled back for her, nearly killing yourself when you caught your leg on a bundle of barbed wire from a downed fence. Daryl had cut it from your leg, part of your jeans ripping off with them as he pulled you and the baby to safety. He’d been the one to bandage you enough to get you back to the farm too, not a word to you the entire time.

In all honesty, you were waiting for him to be angry. Maybe not yell because you hadn’t really experienced him yelling at you before, but certainly had heard him go at it with Shane a few times. And you expected something, at least a “yer stupid” but so far he hadn’t said anything.

“Alright,” you shifted the baby in your arms and placed the empty bottle down between you and Daryl, “she finally ate.”

He nodded, glancing over at the baby as you laid her against your chest to burp her. “Yer good with her, ya got any experience with babies then?” He asked, more than you’d talked to him since Merle went missing, presumed dead. Probably more than you had spoken to him before that too.

“I was the middle kid of nine,” you replied, “babies are pretty much part of my wiring. I always thought I’d have one.”

“Got one now.”

You laughed, maybe the first honest one since you’d wound up in Atlanta. Daryl wasn’t one to joke around and that, partially, had thrown you into the minor fit but, more over, he was right. As judgmental as Lori and Andrea and Shane wanted to be, this baby wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. None of them would as you to do that.

“I guess I do.” You finally said, “I’m sorry for getting us all mixed up, by the way. I wasn’t trying to jeopardise your safety.”

“I ain’t some heartless bastard, not gonna ask ya ta leave a kid ta die.” He replied.

“Still, thought you’d have something to say about it. Everyone else seems to.”

“Yeah well,” his hands worked to clean the crossbow and he paused his speech for a moment, full concentration on the weapon in his hands. He listened for any sign of footsteps or the possibility of somebody that might overhear the conversation. “Shane woulda just as soon shot ya both in the back.”

“That’s true.”

“Everybody’s losing that bit of ‘em...it’s good ya still got it.” He said quietly and you nodded because you understood what he was trying to say. The same thing that had him out there looking for Sophia had propelled you back to the car. And if he had seen the baby first he would’ve done the same thing.

The baby made a quiet heaving noise before something akin to a giggle and you laid her on your thighs as you reached for the spit blanket that Maggie had given you. Daryl reached a hand over, steadying the baby she didn’t roll off your lap, the infant cooing at him and grabbing at his fingers.

“I looked through her diaper bag,” you finally said, adjusting her again so she could sit up, facing her out to the yard and letting her look around at everything. She seemed transfixed with Daryl, reaching out for him and clapping her hands together when he gave her his hand back. “There’s no name or anything on it…not even on her tags.”

“I ain’t good at naming things,” Daryl said, as if sensing that was why you’d brought it up. “Stray cat used to come in our yard ta eat and all I called him was kitty.”

“Yeah…I’m gonna pass on naming her Baby.” You joked, “just figured since you were there when I found her.”

“She’s all yours,” he replied hastily though he had set his crossbow aside to play with her. Not going so far as to take her off your lap but keeping her occupied, holding her attention.

You pushed open the door to the jail cell, sliding the curtain out of the way as you slipped inside, surprised to see Daryl sitting on the bed in your tiny room, the baby on his lap. You had put her down for a nap only thirty minutes earlier, heading outside to check the snares with Rick and had come back in to make sure she was alright.

“Beth asked if I’d check on her,” Daryl said, not even looking away from her as you shut the curtain and pulled the chair over. “Said Judith was fussing.”

“Thanks, sorry I was out in the field...guess I shouldn’t be leaving her with everyone else if I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of her.” You joked. Lori was gone now but the admonishment had been from her. That if you so desperately wanted this baby around than you should be the one to care for her.

“Ain’t just a job for one person.” Daryl replied, “she ain’t hard to take care of anyway.”

“That’s cause she likes you.” You observed. His cheeks flushed and he bowed his head, almost bashful at the thought and you just smiled like you hadn’t noticed his sudden behavior, turning your attention to the baby.

“Frazier,” the little girl rocked back on her bottom, giggling when she met Daryl’s shins and tilting her head back to look up at him. Her knees and the palms of her hands were stained from the grass that she’d been tearing through.

She smiled, rocking herself forward so that she could clumsily stand up, turning swiftly to face Daryl again as she reached her arms up for him. “Daddy!” The moniker was new, ever since Judith had started talking, calling Rick ‘dada’ when she saw him, Frazier had decided that she, too, required a dad. And, naturally, she had decided that it was Daryl.

He shouldered the crossbow he was carrying and leaned down to scoop her up, doing his best to ignore the name. You’d suggested that maybe the term would die out as she got a little older but so far it was sticking and, while Daryl made like it bothered him, it didn’t really. Taking care of the baby, who you’d named from your mother’s side of the family, had seemingly brought the two of you closer. Or at least it had created a reason for Daryl to stay close to you. Looking out for the baby, as he always put it.

“She’s been waiting all day for you.”

Speak of the devil, he turned toward the house to see you coming out to greet them, still pulling a hoodie on to combat the chill that had settled into Alexandria. In the time between Hershel’s farm and now you had seen a lot of bloodshed, lost a lot of people. For a brief moment in time Daryl had been fairly positive he had lost the both of you too, but you had turned up in the woods outside of Terminus, Frazier right there with you.

“Ya been keeping watch?” He asked, jostling her slightly and being rewarded when she giggled and nodded her head.

“Yeah, no naps!”

“Oh Lord,” he muttered, handing her off to you when you reached out for her.

“Come on Frazier, let’s get some food?” You offered, carrying her towards the stairs. She twisted in your arms, reaching over your shoulder for Daryl as he followed behind you.

For all the maternal instincts everyone always said that you had, you thought Daryl was just as protective and acutely aware of Frazier, and now Judith, as you were. He was just less obvious about it. Trying to pass it off as indifference when in actuality you had seen that side of him often and in excess.

Taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd fanfic #twd imagine #collecting stories imagine

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Make It Even

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reaer Summary: Part 2 to Out Of Commission (but can be read separately) - After about a month of recovering from an injury, Reader can finally have sex again, and Spencer has an idea. Category: Smut 18+ (female masturbation, use of a vibrator, dirty talk - degradation with mentions of fingering, hair pulling, and rough sex) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything that I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.3k

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLSIT

***

Being seriously hurt by a serial killer was definitely not fun in any capacity, but the whole thing had been a major learning experience.

For one thing, Y/N learned that she hated hospital checkups. Once a week she had to go, to make sure everything was healing properly. Having Spencer there to make sure everything was going smoothly was extra comforting, though it didn't make constant doctor visits any less tedious.

Secondly, she hated menstruation. Which was a natural, obvious disdain that she'd harbored since the ripe age of eleven, but while being severely injured like she'd been recently, it sucked extra. Not only did she have to deal with menstrual pain and having to be careful not to rip or irritate her stitches every time she cleaned up, but she was also extra horny with no outlet for it.

That one week was probably the worst of it. Spencer wanted to stay with her of course, to bring her the extra comfort, but it was less comforting and more torturous unfortunately. She insisted that he stay at his apartment or at least sleep on the couch, because she didn't know how many more cold showers she could take.

Finally, she learned that her ability to marathon movies was probably one of her strongest assets. Not only did she manage to watch every single Lord of the Rings, Twilight, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Fast and the Furious movie, but she stayed awake and alert through every one. She tried getting Spencer to pay attention to Twilight, but he did fall asleep, though somehow managed to make it through every Fast and the Furious film. She'd make him re-watch them in time, but right now she was just glad that she could get up and move around like a normal person again.

Speaking of, she was currently waiting for her boyfriend to come back from the store. She'd wanted to go with, but he insisted on getting some surprises, so he went alone.

Y/N was cleaning up her kitchen when the door opened and Spencer walked in, struggling to carry more than four large grocery bags.

"Geez, what did you get? I thought we were just making a pizza..." Y/N laughed, running over to help him carry some of the bags. He handed her the lighter ones, still taking caution of her injuries, and she smiled fondly for it.

"I know," he said, slightly out of breath from the walk. "And I got stuff to make pizza, but there were some other things I wanted to get you."

She was about to open one of the bags to help unload everything, but he stopped her. "No! Don't look at anything. Surprises, remember?"

With a sigh and a small laugh, Y/N stepped away from the bags as Spencer set down the ones he was carrying. "Fine. Where do you want me?"

"Bedroom. I'll come in when I'm done." He walked to her and gave her a big, deep kiss before practically pushing her to the bedroom. "Won't take long, promise."

As she heard him unload the bags in the kitchen through the closed door, Y/N wondered what he could possibly have gotten. Knowing Spencer, it could have been about a million different things. Since they'd started dating, he was always so creative and thoughtful with his 'surprises', and each one had been different every time. And since he knew her so well, probably more than she knew herself, she was certain she was going to love it.

That being said, it was taking way longer than she thought it would.

"Hey, you said it wasn't going to take long!" she called out, crossing her legs and swinging them off the bed after closing Twitter from her phone and setting it on the nightstand. "You didn't get lost in there, did you?"

"No!" Spencer called back. "Almost done!"

She smiled to herself, tapping her fingers against her knees and tilting her head to the side in wait.

About a minute passed when she heard him at the door. "Okay, close your eyes!"

She rolled them affectionately before doing so. "They're closed!"

As she heard the door open, she couldn't help the smile that adorned her face, only growing wider when she felt Spencer pepper sweet kisses along her cheeks before she felt him kneel in front of her on the floor. He took her knees and spread them apart, and she raised her eyebrows, eyes still closed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting in position. Open your eyes."

By the amused tone in his voice alone, Y/N thought she had a pretty good idea of what she might find when she regained sight. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, she looked down and noticed Spencer kneeling on the floor, head tilted upward to look at her, his hands in his lap and his eyes searching hers with the most adoring gleam she'd ever seen.

She laughed, bringing her hands out to run through his hair. When they cradled his cheeks, he smiled, bringing his hands up from his lap and revealing... A vibrator. She'd never seen it before. He must have bought and sanitized it before coming in the room, which would be why it had taken so long.

"You.. You bought me a vibrator?"

"Mhm," he answered with the giddiest tone she'd ever heard from him. "I really appreciated what you did for me while you were... out of commission... a few weeks ago, so I wanted to return the favor. Kind of. I, uh... I have an idea..."

Y/N took the vibrator from him and turned it over in her hands as he explained himself.

"I know we could start having sex again, but I thought this would be a fun way to ease you into it, plus I get to make it even."

She looked down at him, amused with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk forming on her mouth. "You want to watch me fuck myself with a vibrator?"

Spencer nodded, placing his hands on her knees again. "And we don't even have to have sex afterwards if you don't want. I have extra clothes here, and I'm more than prepared to take a cold shower when you're done."

Laughing, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, right before leaning her own against it. "You're sure?"

"Mhm. Only if you want to, I mean, I thought it would be fun..."

Y/N pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "It does sound fun. You gonna talk me through it?"

He nodded and leaned up on his knees a little to reach her lips, kissing her just as deeply as he had in the kitchen earlier. She kissed him back fervently, reveling in the feeling of his tongue against hers and the soft hums he let out whenever their lips slightly parted to kiss each other deeper.

Eventually she pushed his shoulders down and moved her head back, looking down at him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth briefly before speaking. "Will you take my pants off for me, please?" she inquired sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

If she kept up this sweet act, this was going to be way harder for him than anticipated, and they both knew it. Regardless, he was more than happy to reach up and unbutton her jeans, looking up at her adoringly while he shimmied them down over her thighs and eventually her ankles.

The second he went back to his position on the floor, Y/N flipped the vibrator over in her hands. "What would you like me to do, baby?"

"Put your legs up on my shoulders?"

She draped her ankles over his shoulders and pulled him closer with them, a small smile forming as his eyes practically widened, being so close to her, where he hadn't been in so long. "Don't turn the vibrator on yet," he said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He turned his head a little and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her calf before he continued. "I want you to touch it to yourself, just lightly over your panties, okay?"

With a nod, Y/N leaned back on one arm and used the other to bring the toy to her clothed pussy, running it softly over herself as instructed. She sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at Spencer, who was mesmerized by her hand movements. She could feel herself getting visibly wetter as he watched, a soft whine escaping her throat before he looked up at her.

"You feeling it already, baby?" he murmured softly, bringing his arms up to wrap around the underside of her legs and resting his hands on the insides of her thighs. As his fingers drifted softly in lazy circles, she mimicked their movements with the vibrator on her clit, longing desperately for more friction.

"Please," she breathed, so lightly that she was unsure he'd even heard her, even as she looked him dead in the eye as she said it.

For a moment she thought about sliding the vibrator under the fabric anyway, taking the chance that he wouldn't do anything to chastise her for it. Thankfully it didn't have to go that far, because Spencer removed himself completely from her and stood up.

"Lay back against the headboard?" he asked more than demanded.

Y/N didn't even have to think, scooting back and into position. As she did so, he climbed on the bed himself and sat across from her, making himself as comfortable as he could be.

Probably because she was excited to start having sex again, but also because it was just fun to see her boyfriend's reactions to her boldness, she smirked a little, looking him straight in the eye as she slipped her panties off and threw them in his direction. They landed on his shoulder, and he didn't move them, his own giddy grin making an appearance. To give him more of a show, she ran her hands slowly up her legs, spreading them wider with each passing second until they were completely open, revealing everything to him.

The second Spencer's eyes glanced down, she started to move, using her middle finger to run through pussy. She continued this for almost a minute, her boyfriend completely focused on what she was doing, speechless, before almost jolting him with her words.

"You gonna help me out, Doc, or are you just gonna stare?"

He looked back up at her face, and she could see him visibly swallow, his enchantment with her completely endearing. Then he replied.

"God, you're beautiful..." The sweetness in his words, just barely laced with desire made her move a little faster, though not by much. He still seemed to notice, though, because he flashed a grin that disappeared as quickly as it came, right before shifting in his place and continuing with his words. "You have no idea how much I've missed seeing your pretty little pussy..."

She sighed, leaning her head back and circling her clit. She loved hearing him talk, about anything, really, but when he was like this? She couldn't get enough.

"So many nights this past month, it's taken so much out of me, resisting the urge to just sneak my hand up your shorts when we were in bed, watching movies together. To feel you squirm under my touch. I thought about how much I wanted to play with your pussy, sort of like you're doing now..."

Her fingers moved a little faster as she recalled a similar dream she'd had one of those nights. She'd been thinking about sex all day and ended up dreaming about just that—Spencer crawling over her and fingering her, bringing her to the edge over and over again until she finally woke up feeling sore. She'd been moving in her sleep, and it wasn't fun. At all.

But now she could move all she wanted. Listening to her boyfriend talk about doing to her exactly what she'd experienced and dreamed about many times before filled her with the most joy she'd felt in the longest month of her life.

So she reached for the vibrator that she'd set beside her, and replaced her fingers with it, opening her eyes to meet him. He watched her intently with his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. It made her smile, knowing he couldn't do anything about it, and that spurred her on. She hesitated to turn it on, wanting to wait until he started speaking again, maybe when he was in the middle of a sentence, to see if he'd pause or stumble over his words.

As she ran the toy along her clit, she tilted her head to the side and sighed. "Your fingers always feel so good inside me, baby," she said, slipping the vibrator lower and slowly plunging it inside of her. "They're so long and perfect. And you use them so well."

He exhaled, still completely entranced with everything she was saying and doing. Because just as long as she hadn't had any sexual stimulation, he hadn't seen her experience it either, and this was just as exhilarating for him as it was for her.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked softly, briefly meeting her eyes.

She laughed a little, giving him the most mischievous look before clicking the vibrator on and slowly moving it in and out of herself. "If you want to call it quits and just fuck me, all you have to do is say so... I don't mind, believe me..."

He genuinely looked like he was contemplating it before shaking his head softly, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes. "No, I-I promised I'd make it even. I want to watch you."

With that sentiment, Y/N worked the vibrator a little faster, sighing out as she did so. "So... When you do finally fuck me, do you still want to take me from behind?"

"Mhm," Spencer sighed, shifting his position again. "You feel so good that way. So nice and tight. And it's even better when I have your hair in my fingers, hearing you moan for me while I tug on it."

As her one hand worked the vibrator inside and out of her, Y/N moved her other to circle her clit, both of them working together to build up the orgasm that was already starting to come to the surface. After all this time not having any sexual release, she knew this wouldn't take long, even if she tried to take it slow.

She moaned out softly like Spencer described, barely keeping her eyes open enough to see him grip the sheets tighter. His eyes were trained on her movements, barely blinking.

Since she was closer to orgasm than she'd been in months, she closed her eyes before speaking again, hoping that he'd continue talking and knowing that when he did it would finally give her the release she'd so desperately wanted to feel.

"Fuck, baby, yes... I love when you fuck me from behind and pull my hair. It makes me feel like such a bad girl..."

"Oh? So you'd rather I fuck you like a dirty whore than my girlfriend, is that it?"

Her words seemed to have flipped a switch in him, because every one of his was dripping with a deep seduction she'd only ever heard from him a few times. It sent a jolt of electricity through her body as her hands picked up speed, and she brought herself closer to the edge.

"Ohhh, yes," she sighed, her eyes squeezing shut harder as she felt that telltale tension in her lower stomach. She was going to cum any second now. "Please, baby, I want it so bad..."

He spoke loud and clear, knowing exactly what would get her there. "Aw, my poor little slut hasn't been fucked in so long she's desperate to be degraded? Is that what you want? You wanna be fucked so dumb you can't even think?"

Every sensation she was feeling right now really did send her into a state of speechlessness. It was truly magical the way Spencer knew how to control her like that. He knew every trick in the book, every single thing that would make her numb in the best ways possible, and it never got old. All she could manage were sharp breaths and the occasional whimper as she started to experience the first orgasm she'd had in just over a month.

All it took was one word. One demand. One forceful step on the gas pedal that sent her flying off the cliff and into the pool of pleasure below.

"Come."

With a long, drawn-out moan, Y/N held the vibrator as far inside her as she could take it, her other hand working her clit through one of the most blinding orgasms she'd ever experienced by herself. Her head stayed planted firmly against the headboard as her back arched and her toes curled, every muscle in her body tensing. Her vision went white, sparkling like tv static behind closed eyelids as she lit up with pleasure. God, she missed that feeling. Everything was so heavy and light at the same time, even as she came down, her back slumping against the headboard once again and her eyes fluttering open.

Spencer looked at her like she was the only thing he'd ever known, ever had the pleasure to see with his own two eyes.

Seeing how obvious it was that he was trying very hard not to do anything about his own arousal, Y/N clicked the vibrator off and slid it out of herself, smiling weakly at him and trying to catch her breath. "You want a taste?"

She'd never seen him move faster in her life. She laughed softly as he climbed over to her and brought the toy to his lips, looking her deep in the eyes as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. The pure guttural groan that left his throat sent a chill down her spine, made even more profound when his hand came up to run his fingers through her pussy softly. She jolted forward at the contact, sending the vibrator further into his mouth, to which he groaned again and fluttered his eyes closed.

His fingers gathered more of her arousal as he pulled off the vibrator and opened his eyes again, sitting back just a little. He then brought his fingers away and to his lips, coating them in her arousal like lip balm. He sucked them off quickly before climbing forward and kissing her on the mouth.

Tasting herself on him was almost as intoxicating as the orgasm itself, Y/N leaning into him and bringing her hands up to comb through his hair after tossing the vibrator to the side. The two of them stayed like that for a long time, making out with each other before they eventually came up for air.

Spencer smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're fucking incredible, you know that?"

She laughed, brushing her nose against his. "You're the one who bought me a vibrator, And helped me get through this injury... I love you, you know."

He sighed into her, pressing another small, sweet kiss to her lips before shifting seemingly rather uncomfortably. "I love you, too. But as much as I love you, I really need to take that cold shower now."

"I'll get our pizza started while you do that," Y/N said with a laugh. "And then, maybe I can finally convince you to watch Twilight with me without falling asleep? At least the first movie?"

Spencer got off the bed and kissed the top of her head with the most doting smile. "Anything you want."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer read smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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bamf-jaskier · 4 years ago

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Accidental Witcher AU

Just gonna put this here so I can find it later if I ever start writing again...

...

alright so accidental Witcher Jaskier

which is objectively hilarious. No more angst, no glamour, no memory loss or curse NOPE all we have is an absolutely shitfaced Jaskier, a Geralt who left his bag at the inn and isn't coming back until the morning.

Jaskier starts mixing together Witcher potions, why wouldn't he? He's drunk, they are shiny, what isn't there to like?

So Jaskier mixes these potions and it left with a black liquid, dark like tar. And what does this man do? What does this renowned Bard do? HE DRINKS IT

and when Jaskier wakes up the next morning, he realizes oh FUCK he can say a lot more things than the night before, he can smell a lot more things too, damn he reeks.

He looks in the mirror and thank fuck his eyes are still blue somehow but when he looks directly into the light they dilate just a bit, all Cat-eyed. Well. Okay. Jaskier isn't stupid. Something bad happened last night and now he's a Witcher.

But here's the thing: making himself physiologically a Witcher doesn't mean he's a Witcher now. He doesn't know much about the path (besides what Geralt has told him) and he has NO IDEA how to use that huge ass pointy Witcher swords. And the LAST THING he wants is for people to expect him to run around wearing armor and fighting monsters. He would much rather prefer to follow a Witcher around and perform.

So what does Jaskier do? Pretends nothing happened.

Geralt comes back from his contract that day and there is...something different about Jaskier but he can't put his finger on it. Jaskier meanwhile is desperately trying to get used to all these new sense and after accidentally breaking a door handle finds out that Witchers are just a little bit stronger than the average person. He practices with his lute until he can control his strength (and music is such a good way to practice controlling his strength)

And Jaskier just continues traveling with Geralt pretending nothing has happened. Partially because he doesn't want Geralt to get it into his head that he ought to be "trained" (Jaskier will carry a sword the day he dies) and partially because he's embarrassed to admit he recreated the lost recipe to the trials shitfaced.

Of course, if Jaskier's songs begin to focus a little more on a Witcher's senses and are just a touch too realistic about a Witcher's sense of smell? Well Jaskier needs a coping mechanism somehow and the world STINKS now.

Now, Geralt is smart, but even he wouldn't suspect Jaskier of accidentally becoming a Witcher but he knows something is wrong. So what does he do? He starts testing Jaskier to see what's wrong.

At first Geralt thinks its a doppler but that is quickly proven wrong when Jaskier falls directly into a mud puddle and makes Geralt stop at a bathhouse to change and clean up.

He thinks Jaskier has a secret lover but then he see him sleep with someone in a tavern.

Maybe Jaskier is under a curse, but the medallion doesn't even hum.

Geralt even asks Yen to check if Jaskier is under a glamour or a spell and she tells him no.

Geralt has no idea what to do so he asks Yen to dig and find out.

Yen and Jaskier like to gossip and drink together so while Geralt goes off on a contract Yennefer and Jaskier get together to bitch and stitch a little.

Once more, drunk Jaskier starts talking about how he totally accidentally made himself a witcher and he has no idea what to do now. Yennefer of course, doesn't believe him. She thinks he just fucked up and took some potions with temporary side effects that will wear off eventually.

so OF COURSE Jaskier grabs Geralt's bag and begins making the Witcher potion once more. And he holds up this tar-potion, drunk as all hell and declares he is the maker of Witcher and the god of the skies. Then Yennefer steals the bottle, pushes a drunk Jaskier to the ground and chugs the potion.

She wakes up the next morning with a resounding FUCK as her purple eyes dilate in the light. Yennefer didn't even think mages could become Witchers? What the fuck was in that potion Jaskier made?

Jaskier and Yennefer both freak out. Now they are both in deep shit and Jaskier has definitely discovered how to make more Witchers but can only do it while drunk, sober attempts to recreate the potion have been met with no success.

Geralt returns and now BOTH Yennefer and Jaskier are acting weird and fuck what's wrong with them?

Geralt comes to the COMPLETELY wrong conclusion that Jaskier and Yennefer are sleeping together.

Cue Geralt trying to make weirdly supportive comments about Jaskier and Yennefer and the two of them acting super weird because, "does he know? what the hell is Geralt talking about now?"

Geralt: I would support the two of you no matter your life choices

Jaskier: wait does he know?

Yennefer: is he trying to invite us to go monster hunting with him?

Jaskier: Oh gods, please don't let it be that

For Yennefer, the transition from Mage to Witcher-Mage isn't all that different. She supposes she's a bit stronger now and her sense are enhanced but honestly she's really just shocked that drunk Jaskier managed to recreate the trials.

Witchers put on muscle a LOT faster than humans and are better at retaining it. What does this mean? Jaskier, who previously was tall but not exactly a brick shithouse like Geralt is suddenly getting muscle definition and OH NO he doesn't like that. His doublets are getting too tight and Jaskier basically desperately trying to not build muscle which goes against the biological instinct of Witchers.

Cue Jaskier cutting his protein and doing lots of cardio to stay smaller and more lithe. Jaskier refusing to pick things up or do any kind of arm exercises.

Jaskier: Geralt can I tie my lute to Roach's side, I can't carry it anymore

Geralt: why?

Jaskier: .... because

This is when Jaskier buys his horse Pegasus so he doesn't walk quite as much (he unfortunately finds out that horseback riding give you great thigh muscles)

Meanwhile Yennefer doesn't give a shit and she is building some truly fantastic arm muscles in the corner.

Geralt stops by Yen's place on the way to Kaer Morhen and she is....chopping wood a la Captain America with an ax. When Geralt watches Yennefer rip apart a log with her bare hands he literally swoons. Jaskier catches him.

Of course, Geralt STILL thinks Jaskier and Yennefer are sleeping together so he begins to make comments about Yennefer's new look and immediately apologizing because he doesn't want to overstep his bounds.

Geralt: Yen ur looking very powerful lately

looks at Jaskier and back to Yennefer

Geralt: not that u didn't always look powerful, and not that I care or think that's it's attractive or anything.

Jaskier: what...?

Yennefer: Are you saying I'm not attractive Geralt?

Geralt: no...I'm...fuck

Jaskier: hello fuck nice to meet you I'm Jaskier.

Okay but after a few months of Geralt making pointed comments about Yen and Jaskier they begin to think he is trying to matchmake them.

Jaskier: I think that Geralt wants us to bone

Yennefer: he does keep making comments about us alone together in the bedroom, I thought he was joking but-

Jaskier: he just left the room and told us to 'have fun'

Yennefer: I mean, should we?

Jaskier: yeah, sounds fun

okay but IMAGINE. Jaskier and Yennefer are sleeping together right? and they decide to spend a Winter at Kaer Morhen with Geralt who just acquired a new child surprise and they show up at the Wolf Keep and Vesemir (who knows these things) is like, "what schools are these Witchers from" and Geralt just...blanks

Geralt: these aren't Witchers?? One is a bard and the other is a mage??

Vesemir: No these are definitely Witchers

Geralt: ???

Jaskier: ...

Yennefer: ...

Jaskier: OKAY SO LONG STORY

TL;DR Drunk Jaskier mixes together a bunch of potions, him and Yennefer end up drinking them and becoming accidental Witchers, they hide it from Geralt and end up sleeping together due to Geralt misreading the situation

#ficlet.#yes this is vaguely based on Mantiskier #just a little #the witcher #the witcher au #myposts #geraskier #geraskefer #yennskier #yenralt #the witcher netflix #drabble #headcanon #geralt #yennefer #jaskier

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pan-fangirl-345 · 4 years ago

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First ‘I Love You’

Summary: Your boyfriend, Tamaki, misses date night, something that never happens without a heads up. Something must be wrong.

A/N: This was supposed to be fluff, but my hands have a mind of their own and they typed this. A little bit of angst. If I missed something please let me know! And tell me what you guys want to see! I live for asks and requests. I will try my best!

Trigger Warnings: mentions of character death, little bit of angst, mentions of violence, mentions of a concussion, and some broken ribs.

You frowned down at your watch as you sat at the common room table.

“Is he still not back from patrols?” Mirio asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“No, and it’s date night,” you reminded him. “He never misses date night.” Your frown deepened at the thought. “He hasn’t texted me either. Something’s wrong.”

“Think positive (Y/F/N),” Mirio told you, smiling, though you could tell he was worried too.

“Fine, I’m positive something is wrong,” you countered, lacing your fingers together as your mind ran through possibilities.

“(Y/F/N), you might want to get in here!” someone shouted, calling you over to the TV as one of your classmates turned up the volume.

Your heart dropped into hell as you heard what the reporter was saying on screen.

“- not sure how long the battle has been going on, however, the heroes and their sidekicks are currently in good shape, keeping them at bay. Suneater has been taking the brunt of the damage-”

“No,” you whispered, catching a glimpse of your boyfriend in live time as he was flung against a nearby building. “Tama.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as tears lined your eyes as you saw him struggle to get up. You heard the soft cry of pain he let out as he grabbed onto his ribs.

“I have to go help him,” you muttered, feeling like the world had narrowed down to the small glimpse of him on the screen, time slowing as your mind focused on Tamaki.

“You can’t, you’re off duty and you haven’t been called in,” Mirio said, latching onto your arm.

“He’s going to be killed!” you cried, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Suneater seems to be severely injured, I don’t know if he can take much more of this-”

“You’re forgetting who he’s fighting for,” Mirio told you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “He’s fighting to get back to you. He’ll be alright.”

Tears spilled over as you watched the live stream.

“Suneater seems to be loosing a lot of blood, but he’s still fighting, against recommendations it seems.”

The camera being used to video was catching snippets of conversation between the heroes, and you heard Tamaki say, “-need to get . . . back to . . .(Y/F/N).”

You let out a small sob as you heard your name, barely caring as your knees buckled and Mirio wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you upright.

“Maybe we should turn it-”

“Don’t turn it off,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. “I . . . I need it on, please.”

Someone managed to get you to sit down, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you watched your boyfriend climb out of the rubble.

“Mirio, where’s the closest hospital to where they are?” you asked, your voice completely deadpan.

What if he died? What if you never saw him alive after this? What if you never got to tell him-

“About twenty minutes,” he told you. “Not to mention the time it would take us to get there.”

“Can-Can I get a minute alone? Please?” you asked quietly, tears coming harder now, your chin trembling as you watched Tamaki fight.

“C’mon guys, let’s give her some space,” Mirio murmured to the others, shooing them out of the room.

As soon as they were gone, you were up off the couch, heading for your room, changing into some protective gear, swinging yourself out your window, climbing over the sills to get to the ground.

He was your boyfriend god damnit, the heroes needed help, and you weren’t going to let anything stop you.

Tears were still streaming down your face as you made your way to the battle, dodging people and following the stream of evacuees. Time lost meaning as you pushed yourself harder and faster.

You heard the villain roar in the distance and you tried to calm the roar in your own ears as you landed in the crowd.

They had Tamaki on a stretcher, moving him into an ambulance.

“Tama,” you cried, running over, ignoring the stitch in your side.

“Miss, please,” someone started, but then Fat Gum was there.

“It’s alright, she’s his girlfriend,” he said, nodding to you, face drawn and skinnier than you had ever seen it.

“I’m sorry (Y/L/N)-san,” Kirishima sobbed, though he wasn’t crying, he looked like he wanted to. “I tr-tried.”

“I know Red, I know,” you soothed, climbing into the ambulance with Tamaki, who let out a small groan.

“Tama,” you murmured, reaching out to touch him before you drew your hand back. What if you hurt him?

He groaned, eyes fluttering open. “(Y-Y/F/N)? Sorry I missed date night.”

“It’s okay, idiot, just get better okay?” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as he reached out to take your hand.

“You-You aren’t mad?” he asked.

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” you told him, kissing his forehead as the paramedics worked.

“I’ll-I’ll make it- make it up to you,” he promised.

“Baby, you don’t have to make it up to me. You have nothing to make up for. You saved so many people tonight. I’m so proud of you,” you told him, giving him a teary smile. “Just get better.”

He nodded as best he could, closing his eyes, but his hand stayed tightly gripped in yours.

When you reached the hospital and you had to leave Tamaki, you took to pacing the waiting room, apologizing to the older lady that you were stressing out.

Mirio and the others arrived half an hour after you did and Mirio instantly wrapped you in a hug, something you had desperately needed.

“I knew you were up to something,” Mirio teased when he pulled away, making you give a tense smile.

“Sorry, but if it were Nejire you would’ve done the same thing.”

Mirio flushed, but he didn’t deny it.

“If you pace anymore you’re going to wear a groove in the floor,” Mirio teased ten minutes later when you continued to pace.

You glared at him and you opened your mouth to reply, but then you heard, “Tamaki Amajiki?”

“Right here,” you blurt, running over to the doctor. “How is he?”

“He’s got some broken ribs, a concussion, and some pretty bad scrapes and bruises, but other than that, he’s fine. Which one of you is (Y/N)?”

“That’s me,” you admitted, rubbing your arms.

“He’s asking for you,” the doctor told you.

“He is?”

“You are his girlfriend, aren’t you?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, she is, she’s just new at this,” Mirio said for you.

“Can I see him?” you inquired.

“Just know, he is on pain killers, so if he seems a little . . . loopy, that might be why.”

You nodded, following him down the hallway to what was Tamaki’s room.

“Mr. Amajiki, your girlfriend is here,” the doctor said, alerting Tamaki to your presence.

“H-Hey,” Tamaki murmured, giving you a small smile. You could tell he wasn’t seeing you properly, he was staring at a spot just below your left shoulder.

You took the seat by his bed, clutching his hand, he tugged it out of your grip to touch your cheek lightly. You pushed your cheek into his hand, touching his hand with yours.

“How are you feeling?” you inquired, petting his hair softly, something that made him melt every time you did it.

“Like I got thrown into a building,” he joked, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Baby, you did,” you chided. Then you noticed the pain lining his face. “Are the lights too bright?”

“N-No,” he said. “I just-”

You waited for a few minutes while you let your boyfriend gather his thoughts. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, you spoke up.

“Baby, what’s wrong? C’mon, talk to me,” you murmured, squeezing his hand.

“They have someone coming in to fix my ribs, but until then, they say that I really shouldn’t be moving too much. I just . . . I could really use some snuggles right now,” he admitted, wincing a little bit, eyes closed.

“Believe me, when you get out of here, you are gonna get all the cuddles you want, but until then, we’ll just have to make due. Do you want to see the others? They’re out in the-”

Small snores alerted you that he was fast asleep, making you smile.

You smoothed a hand over his hair, kissing his forehead lightly, slipping out into the hallway.

“He’s fine, tired, but fine,” you assured the others when they crowded around you. “They’re gonna fix his ribs sometime soon, but until then he’s bedridden, not to mention his concussion seems pretty bad. He couldn’t focus on anything and the lights seemed to bother him a lot more than he was saying.”

“Is he up for visitors?” Mirio asked.

“No, he’s passed out. He needs the rest, I think it’s best if we all just go back to the dorms and let the doctors do their thing, as much as it pains me to say it,” you admitted, tearing a hand through your hair.

“Let’s come back in the morning for visiting hours. And remember, he’s hurt, no yelling, not loud noises, and no bright lights,” you reminded them, watching them nod.

Tamaki, despite his nervous nature, had made a lot of friends in his time at U.A., something you were proud of him for.

“You’re dying to stay, aren’t you?” Mirio asked.

You nodded, rubbing your thumb against the palm of your hand.

“You can stay (Y/F/N)! We won’t mind, you are his girlfriend after all,” someone piped up, making you smile.

“Thanks guys. Now go back to the dorms, you all look like shit,” you teased, making them all smile.

“We’ll come back in the morning,” Mirio assured you.

“Alright, if you need me you know where I’ll be,” you told them, sliding back to Tamaki’s room.

He was sleeping soundly, and you sat in the chair, grabbing one of the blankets that were provided for loved ones and visitors.

You curled up in the chair finding a semi-comfortable position before you watched Tamaki for a few minutes.

You wanted to make sure he was still breathing when you drifted off into a somewhat comfortable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-shut up, you’ll wake her up!”

You groaned a little, wincing at the kink in your neck as you swung your legs into a somewhat normal position.

“Welcome back Sleeping Beauty,” Mirio teased.

“Shut up Chipper,” you hissed, rubbing your neck. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon,” Tamaki told you, smiling.

“Should you be sitting up baby?” you asked when you managed to get your eyes to work enough to see.

“They fixed my ribs earlier this morning,” he assured you, making you smile.

“So you can move without it hurting?” you asked.

He nodded, laughing when you launched yourself from the chair and into his already open arms, knowing what you had been thinking.

“I missed you,” he murmured, face buried in your neck.

“I was here all night,” you told him, smiling as you moved to a position that was a little more comfortable for the both of you.

His arms were like steel bands around your waist, and despite how nervous he was with PDA, you knew he needed this.

“The others are gonna be here soon,” Mirio said, checking his phone.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised Tamaki, kissing his forehead quickly before you slipped out of his hold.

“I brought a bag for you,” Mirio said, handing it to you before you could slip out of the room.

“Thanks,” you told him, smiling before you found the nearest bathroom.

You brushed your teeth, managing to get your hair somewhat neat, and threw on the new pair of clothes that Mirio had snagged from your dorm room.

You slid back into Tamaki’s lap when you got back to his room, smiling when you saw his small pout.

“You could’ve died last night,” you whispered, running your hands through his hair. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until someone . . . .”

You couldn’t finish the thought.

“But you were there,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck.

“‘Cause she snuck out a window to get to you,” Mirio muttered, making Tamaki laugh.

“I love you Tamaki,” you said, clinging to him, running your fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know.”

“O-Of course I’m gonna s-say it back,” he chided, tightening his hold around your waist. “I love you too (Y/F/N).”

Cheers from the doorway made you both look up to see your class there.

“Finally!” someone shouted, making Tamaki blush.

“We were afraid you guys were gonna die before you said it to each other!”

“Yeah, I mean, it took you guys three years to get together to begin with!” Nejire added.

Tamaki was shaking, burying his face so far into your neck you were afraid he was going to suffocate.

You cooed softly to him, trying to get him to come out a little bit, but he shook his head, tightening his already strong grip on you.

You smiled at him, shifting slightly in his lap.

He may have been shy, but he was in love with you, and that was all you needed.

#tamaki amakiji x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader fluff #tw: mentions of violence #tw: mentions of character death #a little bit of angst #what was I thinking?

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hard-to-be-the-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Prince Nuada X Soulmate s/o

The same AU as my last one, where he surrenders and works for the BPRD :))

Soulmate AU as well

Warnings: Blood, injury etc.

- He didn’t know it was you

- Didn’t ever think it would be you

- After all

- You were his sister’s human friend

- An oddity she kept around, for what he thought was her amusement

- But you were friends, and she, unlike her brother, enjoyed the company of human’s

- So when she wasn’t with Abe, she could be found by your side

- Your interactions with her meant you interacted with her brother quite often

- You yourself, had never met your soulmate, Red had found his in Liz, Abe with Nuala

- Yet it seemed you were never going to find yours.

- You’d given up at this point

- Nuala had told you not to give up hope, it had taken her centuries to find hers, you just had to wait a bit longer

- But you didn’t want too

- You wanted someone who cared for you, as more than a friend, a lover. To hold you on the darker nights, to take care of your injuries with a gentle touch

- But you’d lost hope

- Nuada had seen this too, almost feeling pity for you, after all, he knew what it was like to not have met a soulmate yet

- He had yet to find his

- But he supposed it would be easy to find out when he had

- Not only would you share any injuries he had, but also Nuala too.

- He knew he wouldn’t confuse you with her soulmate, after all their connection confused things slightly, but it stopped at Abe, he hadn’t gained his injuries, so he knew he’d know who you were when he found you

- And currently you were in the training room

- Red wanted to let off some steam, and you’d volunteered

- Nuala watching from the side line, her brother not far behind her, watching with curiosity

- But you’d messed up

- Red had came at you, weapon in hand, running at you, and you were ready to dodge, when your footing slipped, pushing you into his weapon instead of to the side

- And as it pierced your shoulder, Nuada let out a gasp

- The second your knees hit the ground Red panicked, kneeling down, cursing under his breath, apologising.

- “S’fine” You grunted, as Red pulled the blade out of your shoulder, making you let out a cry of pain, and Nuada did too, causing your head to shoot towards him, seeing he was on the floor as well, hand pressed to his shoulder, blood leaking through his shirt.

- Your eyes met each other in realisation, and you mumbled under your breath, but you couldn’t think clearly, Red’s hand pressed against your shoulder and shouting for someone to get someone from the infirmary.

- Once someone had came, you had been sat on a bench, eyes closed as they stitched your shoulder, Red still apologising and you shook your head, before looking over to where Nuada was also been stitched.

- And your eyes met each other again, and he stood, brushing the medic aside, heading towards you

- Once he reached you he moved Red aside, sitting next to you, a gentle hand on your shoulder

- “How are you feeling?” He asks, and you were about to shrug when the medic glared at you

- “Like I got stabbed in the shoulder, you?” You asked, trying to make light of the situation. He left out a soft chuckle and you smiled

- “I’m glad it wasn’t worse” He said glaring at Red, who looked between the two of you confused before noticing Nuada’s shoulder

- “Oh shit!” He cried out, laughing slightly

- “You- You two are soulmates” He laughed, and you looked at him, brow raised

- “Why’s that so funny?” You asked, and he shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye

- “Oh nothing” He said, walking around still laughing to himself and you frowned

- “He is right though” Nuada said, softly, not sure how to approach it, and the medic soon stood up, leaving you two alone

- “Yeah...” You muttered

- You felt a hand lift up your chin gently, and you turned to look at him, and as you did he leaned in to kiss you, gently, waiting for you to respond, which you did, reaching up a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and it was until you heard a slight cough you both pulled away. Red was back again

- “What?” You asked, and he laughed

- “Does this mean you two are gonna bone?” He howls, and you picked up the closest thing to you, throwing it at his head, he ducked and held his hands up in mock surrender, retreating towards Liz

- Nuada shook his head, before looking at you.

- “Maybe we should go somewhere more, private?” He suggested, and you nodded, as he stood up, offering a hand to you which you gladly took

#prince nuada #nuada x reader #nuada x s/o #nuada x you #nuada imagines #prince nuada x reader #prince nuada x you #prince nuada x s/o #prince nuada imagine #soulmate au

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

Note

anything that involves freckles. go nuts

Gonna go ahead and double up on a recent request of @scavenger-rey‘s, while we’re at it. Just for giggles.

Jamie has a surprising number of freckles. Not that it’s Dani’s business what hidden secrets are stamped into her skin. Not that Dani needs to be looking at her skin at all.

Not that she can help it, either, with Jamie doing things like this.

“You look warm, Miss Clayton,” Hannah points out, depositing a tray upon the little table with an arch smile. “Perhaps you’d like to take a leaf out of our groundskeeper’s book?”

Dani shoots her a sharp look, remembering just in time two very important details: one, that she has only known Hannah for two months, and therefore is not quite at the slapping at her arm in frustration stage of friendship; and two, that Hannah does not know what’s going on in her head every time Jamie’s around.

Hannah might suspect with the certainty of a particularly clever detective breaking down a fourth-grader’s criminal activity, but she does not know, and that has to count for something.

“She doesn’t--usually do this.” Heaven help her, was that her voice? Her voice, which is generally high and quick and never tinged with that particularly raw shade?

“She does when it’s hot enough.” Hannah sounds entirely unimpressed. “Every time, I have to spend half the afternoon explaining to Flora why she’s required to keep all her clothes on.”

Someone should probably have that talk with Jamie, Dani thinks wildly. Someone should definitely explain to Jamie, in no uncertain terms, how dangerous it is for her to be waltzing around the grounds in overalls and a sports bra, her hair pulled out of her face. Someone should definitely get across to Jamie how it is utterly distracting, and not the least bit professional for someone like Dani--who is a co-worker, who is meant to be keeping children out of trouble, and has somehow found it’s much harder to keep herself out of it instead--to deal with.

“Water,” Hannah advises. “Before you keel over. Would you like me to tell her it’s making you uncomfortable?”

Judging by the raised brow, the tilt of Hannah’s smile, the barely-restrained note of amusement in her voice, it’s clear she knows uncomfortable isn't exactly the word. Dani shakes her head.

“No. I’m. I’m fine.”

“Ah,” Jamie says cheerfully, right on cue. “Hannah, my love, you are a godsend.”

She’s just there, pressed nearly to Dani’s back, reaching over for a glass of ice water. She’s there, and her skin is rosy with the lightest sunburn, and Dani thought Hannah was being cheeky about the whole keeling over jab, but on second thought--

“All right, Poppins?” Jamie’s free hand has wound around her forearm, she realizes. Jamie is looking at her with mild concern, she realizes. Probably because she is quite literally swaying in place.

“Hot,” she croaks. There are freckles on Jamie’s hand, too--and wrist, splashed at random up her arm. There are more than a few on the bare curve of her shoulder. She’s still mentally tallying them up when Jamie presses her gently toward a chair.

“Didn’t dress for it,” she observes, looking Dani over with worried eyes. “Should take off that jumper before it kills you.”

Have to keep it on, Dani thinks nonsensically--though, it’s true, she had dressed for the gray of this morning, not the heatwave the afternoon has become. Still. Have to keep it on, and maybe add a few more layers, besides, because she can’t let herself linger on what she might look like to Jamie otherwise.

Can’t linger on how Jamie’s eyes might drift over her skin if she were to strip down to a tank top and shorts. Can’t linger, worst of all, on how it might feel if Jamie were to pull her aside--

“Poppins?” Jamie is waving a hand up and down in front of her face. “Right, enough of this. With me.”

There’s a gentle command in her voice Dani finds herself following without thinking. She catches herself taking two steps away from the chair, pauses, stands there looking helplessly back at Hannah.

“I,” Hannah says magnanimously, “think I can manage the children. Go.”

“C’mon,” Jamie adds, and now her hand is in Dani’s somehow, her fingers tightening around Dani’s like this is the most normal use of her body. She gives a light pull, and Dani is suddenly trailing along at her heels, trying desperately not to stare at the back of her neck, the skin shining up from the break in denim at her side.

Freckles, she thinks wildly. I shouldn’t know she has freckles.

“You still with me?” Jamie is tugging her, she registers, toward the greenhouse. She gives a shaky nod. “Good. Would hate to have to give you mouth to mouth.”

“You don’t give mouth to mouth for sunstroke,” Dani replies in a voice she still doesn’t recognize. Jamie sends a smile over her shoulder.

“No? My mistake.”

It’s not flirting, Dani tells herself. Jamie is her co-worker, one who keeps to herself and doesn’t have any reason at all to flirt. Jamie is just being kind, worrying over her now, because Dani’s gone and lost her mind over skin and freckles and the spot at the back of Jamie’s neck that leads her brain helplessly into wonder what that tastes like territory--

“In,” Jamie says, gesturing to the door of the greenhouse. “Got a spare set of clothes you can borrow.”

“I have clothes,” Dani points out. Jamie laughs.

“I’ve seen your clothes. They’re not going to help today.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” This is good. This, a mild flush of irritation, distracts nicely from the way Jamie looks crouching beside a trunk Dani’s never noticed beneath one of the tables.

It almost distracts from the way Jamie looks up at her, a teasing grin playing around her mouth.

“They’re well and good,” she says, “for carting around after the little beasts. Here. Got nothin’ in pink, ‘m afraid.”

She’s holding up a white t-shirt with the sleeves shorn off--the frayed threads at the shoulders suggest Jamie cut them free herself, possibly in the middle of a workday--and a pair of denim shorts. Unable to find a polite method of declining, Dani accepts.

“I’ll...just go up to the house to change, I guess--”

“Nah.” Jamie twists around, hands in her pockets, making a point of gazing off in the opposite direction. “Silly to waste the time. Go on, before Hannah thinks I’ve lured you off to commit a murder...”

It’d be kinder, some part of Dani thinks. Standing with Jamie’s clothes clamped against her chest, sweat creeping down the back of her neck, watching Jamie tip her head back and whistle, is entirely painful.

Particularly when Jamie, evidently registering the lack of rustling fabric, chances a glance over her shoulder and adds, “Unless you need help there, Poppins?”

Dani grimaces. Jamie grins. For a moment, she thinks the rest of the afternoon will become this: staring at one another in a sweltering greenhouse, Jamie watching her like she knows exactly what Dani has been trying so hard not to think about lately.

Jamie smiling like she’s got no problem with Dani counting up all those freckles.

“Okay, okay, turn around.” She heaves a sigh, waiting for Jamie to rotate back before hauling the sweater over her head. It’s impossible to deny the relief that floods in the minute she’s free of it, and how much better Jamie’s shirt feels against her sticky skin.

The same cannot be said for the shorts.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she says before she can stop herself. They are, admittedly, nearly the same height and close enough in build for most things--but does Jamie really wear these?

“Only when it’s this fuckin’ hot,” Jamie says, still facing the other way. Dani closes her eyes. “Ah, you didn’t mean to say that part out loud, did you?”

“Just--they’re so--” They’re not shorts, she thinks, trying to tug down the hem. They’re like two tiny squares of fabric haphazardly stitched together. The pockets are longer than the pants themselves, for Christ’s sake. “You wear these around people?”

“Just the ones I like,” Jamie says idly, and Dani hates herself a little for being disappointed she’s never seen them before.

“I can’t face Hannah like this, she’ll laugh herself sick.”

Jamie, at last, twists at the waist. Her eyes drift down Dani’s frame, her lips parting slightly.

“They, um. Feel less short when they’re on me.”

Dani is going to combust, and then there will be nothing to worry about. No freckles. No shorts. Certainly not the drag of Jamie’s eyes up her legs. Dani combusts here and now, and gets out of all of it almost painlessly.

“No, hey.” Jamie is closing the gap between them, reaching out. Her hands find Dani’s, prying her clawing fingers away from the hem of the shorts. “If you feel weird, you can put your jeans back on. Was only trying to...to help.”

Her voice has gone weirdly slack, Dani registers. Weirdly breathy. Her eyes are still wide, still fixed on Dani’s legs, a color rising in her cheeks that has little to do with her sunburn.

“What?” Dani asks--less because she wants to know, and more because she can’t stand not knowing. Jamie’s fingers are soft around her own, her breath seeming to hitch in her chest.

“Nothing. You, ah. Have freckles.” Jamie gives her head a shake, blinking rapidly. Her hands fall away from Dani’s. “Never noticed before.”

She’s staring at Dani like she’s never seen her before, and Dani suddenly wonders what courage would look like in this sweltering room. If it would look like hooking a hand around the strap of Jamie’s overalls. If it would look like pulling Jamie in. Letting Jamie press her back against the nearest table. Letting Jamie’s fingers trace up beneath the hem of these ludicrously-short shorts.

Courage, she thinks, would taste like sweat and mint, like freckles mapped under a curious tongue. It would sound like Jamie’s voice muffled against her neck, the snarl of a zipper lowering in an otherwise-silent jungle of glass and greenery, the thump of a shirt tossed recklessly to the ground--

“Right,” Jamie says, and swings back a step. Her smile is sitting crookedly on her lips, a funny little tilt that makes her look younger, somehow. “I should--should get back to work. Just. Just toss ‘em wherever.”

Courage, Dani thinks, wanting so badly to grasp her shoulder as she turns. She could. She could close her fingers around nearly-bare skin and sink her mouth against the back of Jamie’s neck. She could slide a hand up Jamie’s stomach, pull her backward, feel her tremble under a hungry kiss tattooed to the freckles at her nape.

She could.

If she were just a little braver.

But Jamie is already walking away, one hand tousling her hair nearly out of its bun. Jamie is already walking away, faster than Dani’s ever seen her walk anywhere.

You, ah. Have freckles, she’d said in a voice like a woman dreaming. Dani bites her lip.

The shorts, she thinks, could have their uses after all.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #soft prompts #think this is an AU #wouldn't be terribly opposed to other one-shots in this little AU #I don't do nearly enough with these awkward dorks dancing around one another

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thepartyresponsible · 4 years ago

Note

For the wip ask (they all sound very interesting ngl it was hard to pick just one!) LostSteve

lost steve! yeah, so. what if shield defrosted captain america, and he broke out and just...kept running? what if they lost him? what if he ended up hiding out in tony’s tower, away from the fight for long enough to get his feet underneath him?

this fic is mostly about steve and tony finding each other first, so they can form the heart of the avengers, instead of the fault line that splits the team in half. here’s the first part of it.

—

There’s an alert from Nick Fury that Tony chooses to ignore, for the sake of his convenience and Fury’s ongoing character growth. JARVIS announces its arrival and then diligently reminds Tony about the message twice before Tony tells him to mute it until morning.

“If it’s really that important,” he says, “they’ll just send someone to break in anyway.”

Which is why, on some level, he’s not at all surprised to find a man sitting on a couch in his penthouse twenty-seven hours later. He will admit to being caught somewhat off-guard by the specifics of the situation, though, because Steve Rogers has been dead for longer than Tony’s been alive.

“Zombie?” Tony asks. “Hallucination? Oh, clone? Are you a clone?”

Steve Rogers looks at him the way people look at wax sculptures. Like he’s interested in the details of the creation in front of him, but doesn’t believe for a second that what he’s looking at is real. “Mr. Stark,” he says, politely. His voice is deeper than Tony would’ve guessed.

“Robot,” Tony theorizes. “Sexbot? Updated Trojan Horse? If I let you inside me, are you gonna--”

The man’s brow furrows, and his mouth twists down, and his eyes are too sad for circuitry. No one would code that kind of grief.

Tony pauses for a moment, rocks forward onto the balls of his feet and then back onto his heels. He studies this intruder carefully. Someone sent him a Steve Rogers lookalike in a white t-shirt and stained khakis. He’s hale and healthy, built like a god, but his feet are bare and dirty.

Bloody, too. There are bloody footprints on the carpet.

“Wait,” Tony says. “Wait. Who the hell are you?”

There’s a long beat of silence. The man on his couch just stares at him, eyes tracing over Tony’s face, his shoulders, looking at him like he’s starving for something. He’s quiet and small, somehow, in a way that doesn’t relate at all to the amount of space his body takes up.

And then he stands, light and graceful on his bloody feet. His jaw tightens, and his shoulders pull up, and he’s an American Hero, suddenly and decisively, like he’s made some kind of choice about it.

“Mr. Stark,” he says, again, “I’m Captain America.”

And he is, Tony thinks. The same way that he’s Iron Man. Because once you put on that kind of armor, whatever else you used to be is irrelevant.

—

He’s Captain America, and he’s back from the dead. SHIELD had him and lost him, and Nick Fury wants Tony to go looking for him. That’s the message he left with JARVIS over a day ago. And Tony can’t imagine he was the first name on their list, which means Steve Rogers has been alone in the wrong century for an unknown but considerable amount of time.

“Hey,” he says, calling out from where he’s slouched against the kitchen island, watching Captain America dutifully eat through every scrap of leftovers Tony had in the fridge. “How long have you been here?”

“I was born here,” he says, through a mouthful of fried rice that he hides behind a napkin. He chews, swallows, and jabs his fork over Tony’s shoulder. “In Brooklyn.”

Tony knew that. Of course he knew that. He memorized everything about Steve Rogers back when he thought he could become enough like him to make Howard consider him worthwhile. “No, I mean,” he says, waving his hands, “in this century. How long have you been--- Jesus. I dunno. Awake? Aware? Unfrosted flakes?”

Steve blinks at him. He stares for a second and then ducks his head, stirs his fork through the open takeout box in front of him. “Spent a couple days,” he says. “Looking around.”

Looking around. Steve Rogers, unwitting time-traveler, barefoot in New York. What had he been looking for? Why did he come here?

“Why didn’t you get any shoes?” Tony asks, instead of any of the more complicated questions.

Steve tucks his feet under his chair. He washed them half an hour or so back, walking uneasily into the bathroom Tony showed him and then locking the door behind him, like he thought Tony was some kind of pervert who would bodyslam through the door to catch a glimpse of him sudsing up his bare ankles.

“Didn’t have any money,” he says, surprisingly mulish about it.

“You couldn’t smash and grab a pair of Sketchers?” Tony shakes his head. “If you get lockjaw, you’re gonna have to tell Fury you caught it from somewhere else. Fuck’s sake, when was your last tetanus booster? 1943?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t seem concerned. He’s busy eating his way through enough calories to keep your average winter-starved grizzly happy.

It’s hungry work, coming back from the dead. Tony remembers the unholy things he would’ve done for a cheeseburger.

“Didn’t have any money,” he repeats, scraping his fork around the sides of the takeout box, diligent and serious, like it’s the very last scrap of food he’ll ever get.

Tony clears his throat, hip-checks the counter to heave himself to standing. “I’ll get you some cash.”

—

There’s a weird moment, when Tony gives him the money. It’s just a few hundred dollars. He’s not Tony’s problem, not his project raised from the dead, but he still doesn’t want to give Steve Rogers the means to get himself truly lost in a world he doesn’t know.

Five hundred dollars will get him some food and somewhere to sleep for a few days, but it won’t get him far enough out of SHIELD’s orbit to get himself in trouble.

He looks up when Tony gets close. There’s a well-worn wariness in his eyes. He watches him the way a dog from a bad home might watch him through the bars of the shelter’s kennel. Resigned instead of hopeful, like he knows how this goes, like he knows he can survive it.

“Here,” Tony says. He leaves the money two chairs away from him, within easy grabbing distance. “And I have shoes your size, if you want to borrow them.”

“I don’t need that,” Rogers says, pointing at the money.

Tony lets his mouth tip up sideways, smirks like this is the part of the whole situation he finds truly unbelievable. “You’re going to come into my house,” he says, “uninvited, unannounced, and then you’re going to refuse to accept my hospitality? Rogers, what would your mother think?”

There’s a stall point in Roger’s stare, like watching a bird fly into a window. There’s a moment, right around the word mother, when those blue eyes blank out, and Tony’s just staring into empty space.

“She didn’t,” he says, and it’s fascinating. He’s stitching himself up right here at Tony’s dining table. Tony can practically see it happening, vertebrae stacking up, pulling him taunt like a needle tugging on a thread. “She never liked charity.”

Tony is familiar with pride. He has something of an overabundance himself, although he comes by it honestly. He knows hurt pride hates an audience, so he looks away.

“I imagine she hated the idea of you starving, too,” Tony says. “Probably worked very hard to make sure that didn’t happen. Going to waste all her work now, Rogers? Seems ungrateful.”

He’s half-taunting by the end of it. He’s not sure why. He finds weak points like a magnet finds iron. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s pulling on until after he’s accidentally ripped out someone’s heart. It’s not one of the traits he’s proud of, but, like his pride, he knows where it came from.

Rogers glares at him, but he hooks the next takeout container over anyway.

“I’ll get those shoes,” Tony says. JARVIS has already measured; Rhodey left some boots that should fit.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but, when Tony comes back, the money is gone, and so is he.

—

Tony doesn’t tell Fury a damn thing. If Fury lost a national icon, that’s his problem. And anyway, Tony’s still not completely convinced that the blonde who materialized in his penthouse was actually Steve Rogers and not some kind of really confused, really well-built homeless man. Or a stripper.

Tony’s never actually met a stripper who showed up in khakis, refused to disrobe, and then ate ten pounds of takeout before silently disappearing, but he’d be willing to pay another five hundred dollars for a repeat performance.

He figures out how the maybe-Steve got into his penthouse. He upgrades the security, but he tells JARVIS to let him in if he ever comes back. He’s not sure what he’s hoping for, but he’s too curious to lock him out.

—

There’s a bit of nothing that kicks off in New York, some Hammer tech that goes haywire. Tony puts it down like the cheap knockoff that it is, but he gets stuck in debrief with Phil Coulson afterwards, because he’s not quite quick enough to abandon the scene after the fight’s over. In his defense, he was holding a car above a partially-trapped bicyclist, and Coulson caught him before the EMTs could finish disentangling her.

He makes it back to the Tower after an hour of mostly-wasted time. Steve Rogers is sitting at his dining table. Tony bites back the ludicrous urge to “honey, I’m home!” him.

“Hey,” he says instead, as he steps in from the balcony, stripped down to the skintight suit he wears under the armor. He didn’t expect company. “You get something to eat?”

Steve seems somehow offended by the question. “I didn’t break in here and steal anything,” he says.

“Okay,” Tony says, moving past him. “Well, that’s a gold star and an empty stomach for you, Rogers. We’re all very proud.”

“It’s not my food,” Steve tells him. If he had hackles, they’d be raised. Tony wants to pat him on the head, but only because he’s always had a sort of neurotic tendency to see how hard people bite before he decides whether to trust them.

“Yeah, and a twenty-dollar grocery bill is really gonna break me,” Tony says. He takes a smoothie out of the freezer. “You want pizza? I’m gonna order pizza.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment before he shrugs. “I could eat,” he says.

“Great,” Tony says. He has JARVIS order three pizzas, because he wants at least half of one for himself, and Steve Rogers is a human garbage disposal.

Steve takes a shower while they’re waiting. He asks first, which Tony supposes is the polite thing to do, and he takes his backpack with him, like he’s worried Tony’s going to steal his wallet.

“You know,” Tony says, when Steve remerges, wearing another knockout set of some grandpa’s Goodwill khakis and button-down shirt, “you keep showing up like this, and it’s gonna get harder for me to lie to Fury about having no idea where you are.”

Steve flips open a pizza box and carefully selects a slice. His hair is wet and neatly combed back from his face. He’s handsome from a distance but damn near devastating at close range. Tony takes another bite of pizza, hopes it’ll help swallow back the urge to sink a few grand into war bonds.

“Fury’s the guy with the eyepatch?” Steve doesn’t settle into a seat. He takes his pizza and wanders over to the window, stares out at the skyline.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Tony says.

Steve makes a face. Tony can see it, dulled and faded, in the reflection on the glass. “He’s persistent,” he says, slowly. Not like it’s a compliment.

“Yeah,” Tony says, again, “that’s him.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Tony finishes his slice of pizza, eats another one. There’s an ache in his right shoulder from being wrenched around by Hammer’s ridiculous creation, and he should be icing it, but he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve Rogers here.

He’s never liked looking human in front of an audience. His problem has always been that he couldn’t figure out how to stop. At least, not until he built his armor.

Steve comes back when he’s out of pizza. He’s catlike in his wariness, in the way he seems pissed at Tony for daring to exist in his proximity.

“That fight,” he says, apropos of approximately nothing at all. “Earlier.”

“Oh,” Tony says, rising out of his chair and moving toward the bar, giving Steve the room to loom over the pizza like he’s defending his kill. “You see that on the news?”

“Saw it on the street,” Steve says. “Heard the screams.”

Heard the screams and came running. So he’s still in the hero business. Fury will be happy to hear it.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” Steve tells him. He sounds angry about it. At Tony, not the situation. “Where’s your backup?”

“Backup,” Tony repeats. “Cap, c’mon. Read a newspaper. I work alone.”

Steve Rogers looks up from his pizza perusal just long enough to roll his eyes. It should feel like a slap across the face, and maybe it does. However it feels, Tony likes it. Wants more of it. There’s always been something grounding in being dismissed, like Tony’s never known where he stands until someone shows him how he doesn’t measure up.

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” Steve asks. “Men who work alone die alone, Stark. And they’re not very effective when they do.”

Tony knows he’s meant to be offended. He is, probably. But he couldn’t bite back his smile for anything. “I think I liked you better when you called me ‘Mr. Stark.’”

“Seems to me,” Steve says, “you want everyone to call you Iron Man these days.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tony says, “surely they had that line about glass houses in the ‘40’s?”

Steve frowns at him. “I never asked anyone to call me Captain America.”

“And yet,” Tony says, tipping a bottle of whiskey his direction, “that’s how to introduced yourself to me.”

Steve gives him a look like he thinks Tony’s being deliberately obtuse. “That’s who I am,” he says.

Tony rolls his eyes and flips a tumbler right side up. “But when I start using a stage name,” he says, “suddenly I’m a narcissistic asshole who doesn’t--”

“Do you think,” Steve says, looming up suddenly, shifting gears like something mechanical, going battle-ready with more decisiveness than a faceplate clicking down, “that anybody spent years, spent—I don’t know. Millions of dollars? Do you think anybody did that for Steve Rogers?”

Tony’s caught wrong-footed. He did it again. Drilled until he found the nerve, cut until he broke the skin.

“I think you don’t get one without the other,” Tony says, trying now to soothe. But he’s not very good at it. His instincts don’t run this direction. His whole life, the only things he could ever repair were machines.

Steve shakes his head. He steps away from the pizza. He looks around, eyes zeroing in on his backpack.

“Stay here,” Tony says, sidling out from behind the bar, whiskey now in hand.

Steve straightens up like a cobra, like he’s going to spit venom in Tony’s face. Tony wants to put his mouth on him, which is probably only half because he’s always been hellbent on his own destruction. The other half is that Steve Rogers is beautiful like something made in a lab for aesthetics alone, carefully designed for universal appeal. Tony likes to tell himself he has a taste for the exclusive, but the reality has always been he wants exactly what everyone else does.

“You don’t want SHIELD to find you,” Tony says, “then stay here. Trust me, this is the last place they’d think to look.”

He’s not standing between Steve and the exit. He was careful about that. Whatever SHIELD might think about him, he doesn’t have a death wish. And also, when he’s thinking about it, he’s not usually deliberately an asshole. It’s just that, most of the time, he’s not thinking about it.

“Why should I trust you?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. Hell, he has no idea. “Why’d you come here? The first time. When SHIELD lost you, you came here. Why?”

“I went home,” Steve says, argumentative, all squared shoulders and tight jaw. “I went to Brooklyn. But it wasn’t there anymore. None of it was—I couldn’t find…”

He trails off, shakes his head, sharp and agitated, a horse bothered by a fly. It’s hard to look in his eyes. There’s something in them that Tony doesn’t want to see. It’s like watching a statue bleed.

“I heard there was still a Stark in New York,” Steve says. “I read about you. I thought maybe you’d--”

“You thought I’d be like Howard,” Tony finishes for him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I thought you’d be like me,” Steve says, which doesn’t make any sense at all.

“You,” Tony says. And then, a little helplessly, “What?”

Steve looks away. He shrugs, looks back. “I saw the suit,” he says. “On the news. I saw what it can do. I didn’t think--- things have advanced a lot. I didn’t understand. I thought Howard had…”

Tony squints at him. “You thought Howard did a Rebirth redux and tested it on his kid?”

“I thought a lot of things,” Steve says, snappy. “It was a very confusing couple of days.”

Tony can imagine that it was. “So you thought I was Rebirthed, and you wanted--”

“I didn’t want anything,” Steve says, and there’s that flash of exposed nerve again, that look like a sinkhole in the backs of his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Tony takes a sip of his whiskey. It settles, warm and sweet, into his stomach.

I didn’t want anything.

I shouldn’t be alive, unless it’s for a reason.

Tony holds the tumbler out. Steve needs the warmth more than he does. “Here,” he says.

Steve takes it, seemingly on reflex. “I can’t get drunk,” he says.

“Well,” Tony says, circling back toward the bar, “not with that attitude.”

#writing #fic

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

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Bloody Valentine

Summary: There is nothing more romantic than being stuck in an elevator and arguing about terrible life decisions.

a/n: Blame @littleredwing89 for the existence of this. This is, as of the time I’m posting this, the 4th part (chronologically) to my Dick Grayson/Merc!Reader series. It might be better for you to read part 1 or part 2 before reading this as the angst might hit harder if you do.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury. Dick and Reader are both hypocrites with no self preservation. It also gets a little heated(?) in the end but nothing really bad.

Main Masterlist

Dick Grayson Masterlist

Direct Sequel to this: Sweetness

This was not how you pictured your Valentine’s Day.

Sure, you weren’t exactly picturing a candle-lit dinner under the stars or slow dancing in the pale moonlight like a Hallmark movie. But you’re not exactly thrilled to be standing outside an emergency room waiting area, clutching an unopened pack of cigarettes and a spare superman shirt, as per the police chief’s suggestion. You tap your foot impatiently as an officer persuades the hospital staff to let you in as you stupidly forgot to bring any of your IDs. The pack of cigarettes crinkles loudly earning you a withering look from a tired-looking mother.

You take a breath.

You settle yourself in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they point you to. There’s a scream in your throat. And you’re so close to crying. From frustration, anxiety, fatigue? You couldn’t distinguish.

You flick your eyes to them. Finally, the staff relents and you brush past them brusquely.

Your thoughts spiral. The bile lingers at the back of your throat. Burning. Acidic. Dick had lost a lot of blood but not fatal, they told you. The sob that left your mouth was inhumane. You’d almost dropped the phone. Static and white noise vibrated through your eardrums. In a trance-like state, you walk towards the room they kept him in, tunnel vision guiding you to his door. That’s what shock does to you.

All you can think of is him.

You hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, glaring at Dick through the rearview mirror, more specifically the white hospital issued sling cradling his arm. You watch Dick as he pretends to not notice the look you’re needling him with. “I spy with my little eye something… green,” he says absentmindedly as he stares out into the flow of traffic.

You keep your narrowed eyes straight ahead, not even thinking about dignifying his little distraction. Right now, all you were seeing was red.

To your right, Dick sighs dramatically, running his hand through his black hair. “So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?”

You’re not but you sure are trying.

Dick as far as you knew was used to silence but he thrived in noise. He lived off of interactions, good or bad. You’re usually an endless supply of banter and playful quips but right now you needed the silence. You needed him to stew in it along with you. This isn’t to say you were particularly ill-tempered or impatient with people, being friends with someone like Dick necessitated a certain level of patience in your opinion. And sure, you had a sharp tongue but you didn’t lose your temper often. But as you sit there next to him with your teeth grinding, fingers tapping, and muscles clenched, you could feel anger coiling under your skin.

He lets out another sigh, this time sounding genuinely exasperated. Good. “(y/n), I don’t know why you’re upset by this- I’m a cop. We both know the risks.”

The coil under your skin burns and you break hard, pointedly ignoring the loud cursing from the driver behind you. Dick chokes and hisses as the seatbelt digs into his chest. You offer him no sympathy or apology as you shoot him such a glare that whatever smartass remark he has for you dies on the tip of his tongue. Considering all the villains and heroes he’s had glaring at him over the years, you consider this an accomplishment. Dick flinches at the intensity of the anger wicking off of you.

You click your teeth and turn back to the road, seeing the light turn green again. “You were issued a gun for a reason,” you say flatly, opting for this instead of the litany of other ways to say ‘you’re a moron’. You’re polite like that.

It’s Dick’s turn to level you a look but unlike him, you don’t flinch, too caught up in your own anger. “Well, I assessed the situation-”

“You were wrong.”

“- and thought I could deescalate,” he says scowling at you through the mirror. Hurt flashes behind his eyes. He looks… like a mix between petulant and offended but you can’t bring yourself to care to do more than give him a withering look, especially not when you still have his bloodied uniform burned into your mind. You admired his determination to keep the peace the way you admired how uncompromising his stance was on second chances. You really did but… It was the second time he nearly died that week and it was just Tuesday.

You stop again. You close your eyes. Loving someone who could someday not come home to you was not a possibility you had prepared for. You just- You just weren’t ready to care for someone so… destructible. You weren’t sure how to process all the anxiety that came with that, so you turned to anger. It just seemed so much more productive and tangible than the shapeless fear anxiety brought you. “And you nearly got shot in the heart,” you deadpan, heart twinging. You taper your emotions down into something more manageable, something easier to compartmentalize. You can tell Dick was going through the same process. Which one of you was having a harder time, you couldn’t tell.

“He barely grazed me.”

“Correction, you have a hole in your shoulder.” Asshole. You bite back the insult, trying not to escalate the argument. You click your teeth but try not to clench your jaw or grind your teeth. The first person to lose their temper loses the argument.

Dick huffs, resting his chin against his uninjured hand. His eyes flicker to you then the window. “I’ve had worse,” he mutters and your stomach tumbles to the ground getting crushed by the tire. Your mind careens. Your lungs fill up with the smell of ash and gun smoke. For a moment, your eyes do not work. For a moment, you’re in a crumbling building. Your eyes watching the billowing smoke curl against the sky. A blast of heat so hot it makes the liquid in your eyes boil breezes past you.

You feel the flick of Yasiri’s tail on your skin and suddenly your foot is on a gas pedal instead of a broken cement floor. You blink, a tar-like emotion is swimming under your skin. You breathe. You glare at the traffic in front of you if only to focus your vision. “You’re impossible,” you snarl.

In the corner of your eye, Dick peels away from the window, anger flashing in his easy-going features. He’s brandishing a sneer. You brace yourself. Dick… Dick Grayson was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he knew too much of your hurts. You swallow, gripping the steering wheel. Yasiri swims on your skin, surfacing just enough to get ready to strike but also just enough to be hidden.

Dick opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Dick closes his mouth then opens it again and instead of something truly scathing, Dic opts for something more teasing probably realizing that pissing off your driver is a really bad idea. “You say that like you’re any easier to talk to.”

“At least, I know how to listen,” you bite out, voice drawing dangerously low. Dick’s eyes flicker to you, his shoulders bunching up a fraction. You click your teeth and take a calming breath.

Dick snorts, the knot in his shoulders disappearing. “Yeah, right.”

You bristle. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel contemplating on whether to deck him. You should deck him. You should definitely deck him. Would that open up his stitches? It probably would. You mutter a curse. It feels nice rolling off your tongue and it seems Dick feels the same when he curses in Romani. You catalog the word for later use. Dick turns away from you, glaring out the window. You can see the way his eyes narrow through the reflection in the window. The look in his eyes is a complicated mix of irritation and hurt and regret.

You silently agree to table the discussion, at least, until you got off the road.

You brush past the elevator door, tossing your bag to the corner and leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. Dick enters and leans on the opposite wall, gingerly rubbing his shoulder. Neither of you look at each other. You watch the buttons light up as the elevator climbs up. Your skin is still buzzing from emotions. You thought the quiet drive would right them but… it didn’t.

To your side, you hear the restless tapping of feet. You glance over to Dick whose body is vibrating and itching from movement. Seems you weren’t the only one jittery. You smother a snort in your hand. It was cruel but you find the fact that he’ll be so bored while recovering is slightly funny.

The elevator shakes. You’re thrown off balance. There’s a metallic clunking above you. You both lookup. Dick strains his ears to listen. You quiet your breathing so as not to distract him. He sighs and curses, the side of his fist pounding against the wall. “It’s just broken.” You look at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head. “I wish,” he scoffs. You scrunch your nose and Dick sneers. “We’re just gonna have to wait, I guess.” And you press yourself against your wall. “Wonderful.”

You both stew in silence. “I can’t believe I’m stuck...” you mutter under your breath as you try to pry the elevator doors open. Dick rolls his eyes at you. “You can’t open those doors, (y/n),” he ruffles his hair in frustration, “we just need to wait for the fire department, dumbass.”He says, his head lulling back against the wall.

You hiss, your fingers sore and red. “Has anyone ever told you that you were an ass?” You snarl making Dick scowl at you.

“You’ve said so like 5 times in the emergency room and 2 times in- Do you really wanna start this again?!”

You punch the door, creating a deep divet. “You’re goddamn right I wanna start this again because, Richard, for once in your goddamned life I wish you would stop being such a self-centered dickweed!” You seethe. Your knuckles hurt. They feel cool. They’re probably bleeding.

Dick shoots up from the corner. “How am I self-centered?”

“Risking your life like a fucking moron like that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to save those people.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you throw your arms up in exasperation, “do you know just how bad you are at keeping yourself alive because of that fucking hero complex, huh? You dumb. piece. of. Shit.” You take a deep breath and continue your tirade. “You think you’re invincible just cus you run around in tights all night?”

Dick smirks at you. “You never had a problem with my tights when-”

“Check your ego, Grayson. I’ve dealt with a lot of spandex-clad pretty boys before, you’re nothing special.” You want the words to sting.

“Oh please, you dealt with them by putting them in body bags!”

“Yeah! Fuck you! You’ll end up in one the rate you’re going.” Dick is speechless for a moment. Something in Dick’s eyes flares. You flinch and open your mouth to say something but Dick roars, the sound loud in the confined space. “What? Are you gonna tell me to stop being a hero? Are you gonna tell me that I’m not good enough to be Nightwing like how Bruce told me I couldn’t be Robin? Hah?”

Your heart drops and your chest burns. Your hackles draw up as high as they can. You bare your teeth. “No, you fucking moron That’s not the point!”

“What is it then, (y/n)? What do you want from me?!”

“You always go on this damn crusade to save everyone and everything and you don’t bother to take care of yourself or how it would affect others!”

“Wha-”

“No! You don’t- You don’t ever think!”You shove him against the wall, jabbing your finger into his chest.

Dick glares down at you, grabbing your wrist in an almost painful grip. His finger jabs against your collar bone as he gets in your face, his hot breath fanning against your skin. “Fuck you! You’re just as bad as I am! You always throw yourself in front of others at the first sound of gunfire.”

“Dipshit, I have accelerated healing!” you say, ripping your hand out of his grip.

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE INVINCIBLE.”

“Neither are you!” You sob, it comes out wet and raw. You close your eyes. You can still see the blood on his uniform. You sink to the floor, clutching at his shirt. Your tears sting even as they fall to the floor. “Neither are you.”

“(y/n)...” Dick’s shoulders droop as he watches you proud form crumple, entire body shaking. He lowers himself to the ground slowly, careful not to agitate you.

You press forward and bury your face into his shoulder, fist lightly punching his chest. You don’t want him to see you cry. “Dick… I’m not saying you should quit… that- that’s just who you are.” You hiccup, tears flowing.“I just- I don’t want to bury you. I don’t- I can’t lose you, you fucking moron… You can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart and- and- ”

“(Y/n)...” Dick pulls you into his lap and lays his chin on your head. He hadn’t really thought… He should have known. He should have guessed.

You pull away and look him in the eye, eyes bloodshot from crying. “You can’t just expect me to be ok with the possibility you won’t come back to me,” you say lowly, punching his chest. The next few words come out in a shy whisper, low enough that Dick has to strain his ears to hear you. “Dick… I love you. I want to grow old with you, you waste of oxygen.” You cry into Dick’s shoulder not able to face him. Dick shakes his head. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and presses a kiss to your hair. Dick doesn’t know how many times he has to tell you he doesn’t think less of you for crying on his shoulder but he’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it.

You sit in silence with only your muffled sobs and Dick’s comforting words filling the dead air.

“Timmy is gonna kill you for making me cry,” you sniffle, facing him with a wet tear-stained smile.

Dick gives you a crooked smile in return.“ I still have no idea how you managed to turn my siblings against me,” Dick says, planting another kiss on your face but this time on your eyelid just below your brow.

“You say that like it’s hard.”

Dick pouts at you and you cackle loud and high, somehow still managing to sound musical. “I am a lovable big brother-”

“-And I’m a fucking nun-” Dick pinches your ass through your skirt. “We'll have nun of that,”

You grab Dick’s wrist in a tight grip, managing to narrow your eyes at him. “I am not dropping this conversation just to get fucked in an elevator.”

His eyes shine cheekily at the idea.“Wasn't my plan... but that works.”

“Dick…”

Dick leans down, his nose grazing your pulse, brushing like petals against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” Dick says, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. Ignoring the swell of his pants against your inner thigh, you pinch his cheek, tugging him away from your neck. Your stomach roils at the loss of his lips on your skin but you suppress a whine to glare at him.

Dick looks up at you, mischief lighting his eyes. He pulls away from your hand. His lips find their way back to your neck then back up your jaw. His lips press kisses along your jawline. “It’ll-”kiss”-be-” kiss “-sooo worth it.”

Your breath hitches.“Dick...” you whine, feeling your skin heat. Your mind is buzzing. He smiles against you. His fingers toy with the strap of your bra, tugging it down slowly, carefully, making sure you feel every bit of his movement. “I hear my name-” he kisses your shoulder “-but you’re not stopping me.”

You roll your hips, panting for him. Dick’s tongue is hot against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know I can make you scream my name with just one hand,” Dick whispers against the shell of your ear. His hand slides down your arm down to your hip, his hand guiding your ass towards his growing bulge. “C’mon, Sweetheart, think about it-” Lick ”-the words I could make you sing.”

“Dick...” you pant, arching your back, pressing your body against his, giving him more access to your neck. Dick nips at your flesh happily. “Honey, I’m going to-”

You yelp, your skin flying off your bones when you hear the elevator doors open. Dick, unphased, continues kissing you and licking up your skin.

“Heeey guys, it’s Grayson,” the fireman calls out to the other men behind him. He turns back to the two of you with a cheeky grin.“Dickie, if I’d known it was you..” He glances towards you, eyes catching on the red hickeys blooming on your shoulder. You want to evaporate. “You guys need a minute?” Dick grins against your skin, looking up at you through thick lashes. “Thanks, Jerry, but we might need more than that.”

You glare down at Dick who simply smiles at you as he nips at your flesh. “What? Feeling shy?” Dick breathes against your neck and all of a sudden, all of the anger and irritation comes creeping back. You shove Dick lightly, standing up and fixing your shirt. “I think he has a concussion. I suggest you check him out,” you snarl, brushing past Jerry leaving Dick on the floor, horny and stunned.

“I’m totally fine!” Dick says, scrambling to his feet and grabbing your bag.

You glare over your shoulder. “Our argument isn’t over.”

“What? But- I thought- We were about to-” Your scowl deepens as you see Dick flounder. Jerry cackles as he gives Dick’s back an unsympathetic pat.

“Sorry about that, Grayson. I guess you were destined to get blue balled,” Jerry laughs shaking his head. Dick sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping. “Are you really sorry?” Dick asks, side-eyeing Jerry. Jerry grins. “Nah, but it’s the thought that counts,” Jerry says, looking all too pleased with himself.

Dick bumps past Jerry gently with a slightly petulant look on his face which earns him a chuckle from Jerry and a glare from you. “Watch the shoulder,” you crow from the hall.

Jerry shakes his head. “No, hero’s welcome, huh?” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about the hole in my shoulder,” Dick admits, sheepishly. Jerry shoves Dick forward lightly and the other firemen do the same. “Go get ‘er, Tiger!”

Dick falls into step behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. His arm wraps around you as he pulls you close. He places a kiss behind your ear. You gasp and you hear hoots behind you. “Dick… Don’t… You can’t solve this with an orgasm,” you sigh, feeling your resolve crumble as his soft lips brushed the weak point of your neck. “Honey… please.” Dick holds you against his chest. The beating of his heart thaws you. “Honey, I’m sorry...” His breath runs down the side of your neck and it feels like feathers caressing your skin. You take a breath. He just knew how to make you melt.

“... I love you too.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

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Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 9 - Obligation

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot @suzy-rainbow @miingxuxi

“It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body. ”

Hesitation stops Kim Jo-Pil for a few seconds. He parts his quivering lips and takes a deep breath, then says, just loud enough for Juyeon to hear, “I made a mistake. One too big for me to dig a hole and throw it in.”

Juyeon’s frown deepens, and he hears the sheets shuffling in the bedroom. He reaches forward, pulling Jang Won’s door shut.

It is only in Kim Jo-Pil’s home-made office (also known as Jang Won’s second guest room) that Juyeon is surprised by the number of mini and portrait-sized canvasses painted by his wife. Just for a split second, Juyeon buys it. Maybe Kim Jo-Pil isn’t as horrid of a person Kim Jang Won thinks he is.

But it’s the picture of their family sitting on his desk that ironically turns Juyeon’s head around.

“What is all this? For show? For when Jang Won storms in and you’ll think she’ll go soft, seeing all this?”

Kim Jo-Pil lands himself in the sofa seat next to the bed, piled with files and documents and boxes, leaving Juyeon to stand awkwardly by the end of the bed, eyes scanning the mess in the room.

“You sound like her... after her mother passed and before I did.”

Juyeon’s nostrils flare. “If you don’t want to tell me why you decided to come back and ruin her life, so be it. I don’t need to stand here and listen to all your-”

“Younghoon wasn’t Se Kyung’s first child.”

Silence.

Juyeon’s heart halts in his chest.

Kim Jo-Pil looks out the window, eyes looking in the distance where the city’s skyscrapers were kissing the sun. “Se Kyung had a child born out of wedlock before she married me. But they made her choose. The child’s life or her freedom.”

“Back then, The Board already had administrations favouring arranged marriages between families under the conglomerate. It was an easy system to keep the number of royalties under control. The cycle repeats itself. Two families become one, and a new family joins. Superpowers are reduced from two to one overnight, and The Board would never have to be worried about being overthrown because the supers would simply be too busy outdoing each other and seeking validation from the administration.”

“Did you know?” Juyeon whispers. “That she already had a child?”

“I knew... not because I was meant to, but because I wanted to. It was The Board’s annual Christmas Charity Event in the early 1990s and Se Kyung had gone with her parents, and I had gone with mine. She was sweeter than a daisy in a meadow full of flowers. She was polite, kind, and had a reputation for being the most stubborn creature on the planet, even then. It was one of the many things that Jang Won had inherited from her.”

“She spent her early twenties away from home, supposedly in another country working her way through foreign industries and making a name for herself. I didn’t know she had returned until my father told me that the Yoo family had chosen to merge with another - mine - I couldn’t be happier. One night, I decided to sneak to into their property and propose to her formally, way before the arrangements were to be made public. And... I heard it. The crying. Fighting.”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes fall. “She had returned with a child in hopes to bond her to the Yoo family. The father was a coward and ran once he had heard she was from a reputable family. Too much politics, too much money.”

“But the baby. Oh, the baby. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My poor, poor Se Kyung... She was given the options: Marry into the Kim family and give the baby away, or her parents will have it dispensed like it had never been born.”

By now, Kim Jo-Pil has tears in his eyes.

“After we had Younghoon, something in Se Kyung clicked back to life. I remember the night she delivered him. The sparkle in her eyes that I fell in love with the day I met her had returned... but I knew for a fact that I needed to find her first-born, no matter the implications. It was the least I could do for her. By then, the child had to be a few years older than Younghoon and so, I spent the time that I should’ve spent with Se Kyung and my own children looking for her - the baby.”

“Se Kyung lost her parents in an accident the night Jang Won was born. She lost the worst nightmares of her life in exchange for a beautiful baby girl... so, what more could she ask for?”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks a deep breath. “I couldn’t find the child. I went to all the orphanages and the foster homes and by then Se Kyung had already fallen ill. Brain cancer - inherited. All I wanted was to return Se Kyung was her first-born and yet I did not deliver. When Jang Won was 16, Se Kyung passed. The last foster home that had taken care of the child said that she had reached a legal age to take care of herself. She could’ve gone under the radar if she wanted, changed her name if she wanted, and I’ll never be able to find her. Little did I know that she had grown to become much more of a person than I ever expected her to be, and she had been practicing advanced medicine throughout her college life.”

Juyeon is giddy from the influx of information, and so he braces himself when his own neurons piece the puzzle together.

“She was the one who revived you. The child.”

The elder shuts his eyes and lets the tears dribble over his lids.

It felt like a dream. The ache in his chest. The rough texture of gravel under his cheek when he collapsed. But Kim Jo-Pil opens his eyes, in thorough shock, when he realises he’s not in the hospital, but in some worn-down warehouse with a bunch of illegal medication that shouldn’t even be legally available outside of the hospital.

He had remembered the lights in the operating theatre, and even the sound of his slowing heartbeat in the drums of his ears.

So how is it possible that he’s-

“Ah, you’re awake! I was starting to worry that it didn’t work, Goddamn Narcan.”

Kim Jo-Pil tries to move, but he can’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body besides his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lights above him had been preventing him from seeing her face, and when he did, he swore he could’ve been snapped into two when he recognised her eyes.

She pushes away the lights and turns to remove her surgical equipment, the sound of latex snapping away from her fingers echo through the dismay of the room. She returns her attention to Kim Jo-Pil.

It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body.

“I’m Yoo Hye In, and I heard you’ve been searching for me.”

Exasperated and in disbelief, Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, turning to make sure the door of the room was shut.

“Why are you even telling me this? How do I know I can trust you to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, because I have all the damn time in the world to be cooking up this story!” He gets up and pulls up his shirt, revealing a stitched scar right over where his heart was. “I trust you because you have no reason to backstab her.”

He releases his shirt.

“Other than Younghoon, I don’t know if anybody else in this system can offer her any kind of security.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna run off after getting half of HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Because if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to her over your wedding.”

Juyeon presses his fingers over his closed lids. His vision is blurred when he opens them.

“Why don’t you just tell Jang Won about this? She can protect you. She can sieve out this... Yoo Hye In, give her what she wants-”

“Jang Won will never give Hye In what she wants.”

Juyeon can feel the edges of his lips curl downwards and his lids getting heavier from mental exhaustion. “...Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS?”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes can’t seem to leave the floor. He can’t help the dreaded feeling of failure drowning his conscience as a father, as someone who was rightfully supposed to protect her.

“So, what’s your plan? Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS, and you know for a fact that Jang Won won’t give that up... like, ever. What happens if Hye In doesn’t get HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Hye In will go to the press. Her existence being Yoo Se Kyung’s first-born out of wedlock will destroy everything this family has built. Hera’s Manor, HERA & ARTEMIS, Artemis...” He shakes his head. “Either gone or hers. She’s playing saint by not doing that directly.”

“But what does Yoo Se Kyung’s mistake have anything to do with Jang Won?” Juyeon seethes, inhaling such a deep breath that his chest hurt. “This is unfair. She should not have to go through this-”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Kim Jo-Pil’s lower lip trembles, a hardening gaze plastered to Juyeon.

Heaviness blankets the room. Juyeon’s frown feels cemented into his forehead as he sits at the edge of the crowded bed, fingers on his temple.

“Juyeon.”

The younger side-eyes the elder, cautious.

“Once you’ve acquired Apple-Korea, I want you to buy all of HERA & ARTEMIS, then acquire Artemis Entertainment as well.”

“You know Jang Won won’t allow that.”

“Try. You’ll have the power to and she can’t exactly stop you,” He huffs, chest rising. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I will tell her the truth when it blows over.”

“’Blows over’? How is this going to ‘blow over’? You just said Hye In won’t give in until she gets HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“But she can’t fight for ownership if it’s the owner is not of Yoo’s descent. Which means once you acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS-”

“Then she’s no longer a threat.”

Kim Jo-Pil nods. “But you will need Jang Won’s trust to acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS, and she cannot know about Hye In before that happens. Once the order is out of place, Jang Won will stop at nothing to fight for HERA & ARTEMIS, not knowing that she’ll be fighting a lost war.”

“Jang Won doesn’t even trust Younghoon. How do you expect her to trust me?”

“Look at where you’re standing,” Her father turns, but doesn’t look at Juyeon directly. The sun kisses a single side of his face as his eyes scan the room. “You’re standing in Hera’s Manor, and you’re her first overnight guest in five years. I’d say you have a pretty good chance at earning the rest of her trust.”

Juyeon winces slightly, shutting his lids to process the information. There’s a grave sense of responsibility perched on his shoulders now, and the dread that lingers in the back of his skull when he thinks of Yoo Hye In strutting around in public makes him uneasy.

Juyeon finds himself mindlessly heading for the dining hall, where Mr Ro was finishing up the preparation of the wide array of food on the side table. The butler bows, but it goes unnoticed. He pulls the chair back for Juyeon to sit, and eventually calls him a cup of coffee when he notices Juyeon’s lack of attention.

“Mr Ro.”

“Hmm?” The chocolate-brown shade of coffee glitters under the light from outside.

“How long do you think it’ll take Jang Won to trust me?”

Mr Ro pulls away, handing the pot of coffee to another staff. “Well, Mr Lee... that depends on what circumstance we’re envisioning.”

“Her life. Maybe something she loves, something she can’t live without.”

“So, a prized possession.”

“Mm.”

Mr Ro pauses for a thought.

“Long, but play your cards right, and she will eventually trust you.”

Juyeon offers a strained curve of his lips when Mr Ro bows and returns to the kitchen, leaving him with a bunch of pastries that should be sold in some five-star hotel instead.

Jang Won strolls into the dining hall dawned in a gorgeous full-fitted set, make-up and hair done like she was going for her own press conference. Juyeon remains quiet at the table, only looking up once when she first enters, then he returns to spreading Nutella on his croissant.

“Jesus, do we not have anything from Younghoon or my father to let him wear besides those pajamas?”

“You lent me these pajamas, don’t make it sound like it was my bad choice to make. Besides, they are comfortable and cute,” Juyeon looks down at himself.

Jang Won gruffly scoffs. “Of course it’s comfortable. It’s made from Supima cotton. What do you think we are, savages?”

“Mrs Lee, I-”

“Call me that again and I will fire you,” She abruptly instructs, glaring at her butler.

“Ms Kim,” He corrects himself. “We have already called Younghoon’s fitters to bring by some wardrobe for Mr Lee before he joins you for the itinerary meeting.”

“Itinerary meeting?” She whips her head from Mr Ro to Juyeon, who was busy licking the Nutella off the knife he was using. “Don’t you have to be in the office or something?”

“And do what? Put myself in a situation where my parents can come to kidnap me home? No thanks.”

Jang Won leans back in her seat as the staff places a cup of tea in front of her, surprised at Juyeon’s enthusiasm with something that he didn’t need to worry about.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment after, so, you can come back home after unless you want to hang around old, dying people.”

“What?” Juyeon sneers. “What for? You look perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s because I have been going for these medical checkups, dumbass. I’m not gonna stand around and then what if I magically die of a heart attack- then what? Give you all of HERA & ARTEMIS and Artemis Entertainment? Pshht!”

Juyeon purses his lips - a terrible attempt at hiding his smile.

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: Your father just dropped by this morning. He knows you’re at Hera’s Manor.

Young Jin Seol [12.14pm]: He’s requesting for a meal, for him and Mrs Lee as well as you and Kim Jang Won after you return from your honeymoon.

He quietly locks the device, attention drifting from the messages to Jang Won, who was busy strolling about the office. The ride here had been quiet, for Juyeon had chosen to drive and Jang Won sent two guards to Kim Sunwoo’s residence to get her Mercedes back.

Heavy and thoughtful, Juyeon thought. The atmosphere in the car was strange, and he can’t help but to wonder of Jang Won was even aware she had a nightmare (or a trauma relapse, or whatever you called one of those) earlier in the morning. Maybe it was the accustomed sight of Jang Won being as cold and rigid as a statue that makes it harder to bear. Juyeon fails, when he tries to restrain the ache that devours his chest, unable to remove the image of her crying and holding on to that mini canvas like it were her life.

The door of the office clicks open and it steals both his and her attention, the tour agency officer bowing to the two tycoons with files in her arms. Juyeon stands, patting down his pants.

“Mr Lee!” She holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Mrs Lee didn’t make your attendance known.”

Juyeon smiles politely at her, shaking her hand whilst admiring the distasteful grimace on Jang Won’s face at the address.

“Please, just call me Juyeon, and my wife, Jang Won. We’re still not used to the new... salutations.”

The officer offers a low chuckle, turning to Jang Won and raising a cheeky brow. Juyeon’s left brow twitches when Jang Won’s grimace remains cemented into her lips, and yet the officer was still grinning like an idiot.

“Do you two know each other?”

“Call me ‘Mrs Lee’ one more time, and I will murder you,” Jang Won seethes, opening her arms and pulling her into a tight hug. An exhale gets punched out of Juyeon, feeling somewhat at ease with the change in atmosphere.

“I knew that would totally get you on edge,” The officer laughs, patting Jang Won on her back between her shoulder blades. Pulling away, she turns to Juyeon and bows, this time more candidly. “I’m Ki Hae Ri, your tour officer for your honeymoon next week.”

Watching Jang Won talk to Hae Ri was almost like watching her get possessed by a 13-year-old teenager. More than amused, Juyeon wasn’t even paying attention to the actual content Hae Ri was talking about regarding the itinerary - all he could see was the bright smile on Jang Won’s face.

And for once, since the day he first met her, this smile was genuine. Her eyes are folded into crescents when she laughs and chortles and berates Hae Ri for every little detail she puts in the conversation to tease Jang Won.

“And for you, Mr Lee,” Hae Ri’s voice snaps him out of his mindless admiration. “Jang Won here has told me that you like diving and so I must tell you that she suggested of doing Belize.”

The folder slides across the table, and Jang Won shoots Hae Ri a look of betrayal. Automatically darting his attention to Jang Won, Juyeon’s fingers trail the edges of the folder, a picture of the Belize Blue Hole printed on the cover page.

Clearing her throat, Jang Won looks afar, refusing to even face him. “So it’s an 8-hour drive, or a 1.5 hour flight from Guatemala to Belize. It was a suggestion in one of the itinerary sets anyway.”

Juyeon looks up from the 3-day Belize stay itinerary, noticing Hae Ri’s prideful, cheeky grin stretched up her lips.

Back in the car, Juyeon’s hands are on the steering wheel, engine already churning and the air-conditioner blasting the coolness into their faces. Jang Won waits for some moments, before realising the amount of movement in the car - or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hello? Doctor’s appointment?” The edge in her voice is back and Juyeon can’t help but wonder just how she does it - being so cold and caring at the same time. “If you’re not interested, then you can just get the fuck out and I’ll call Mr Ro to come pick you up.”

Juyeon pauses for a moment, collecting the vocabulary in his head.

“My parents want to meet us for a meal after we return from our honeymoon.”

The whir of the air-conditioner suddenly sounds a little louder.

“What for?” Jang Won snorts. “Is your mom planning on baking cupcakes and apologising for making this the worst decision of your life, even though it wasn’t even yours to make?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll have to go. They are still my parents.”

“What?” She criticises, her upper lip hooked upwards. “You ran away! From home! And now you want to just... bring a basket of fruits to a picnic with them just ‘cause they’re your parents? Ha!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t do this then they’ll just be bugging me forever and if that happens then I can’t do what you want me to do with HERA & ARTEMIS peacefully. If anything, they might just fuck shit up if they don’t have this meal with us.”

“‘Fuck shit up’? I’ll fuck them up-”

“We’ll go, and that’ll be the end of it, okay? Trust me, you don’t want them dipping their noses into our shit once we start with all the ownership administration.”

“’Dipping their noses’? Just who the Hell do your parents think they are? They don’t even own any of the companies related to the-”

“I know, God damn it,” Juyeon finally rebuts, patience running thin. “But they have power. According to The Board’s conglomerate, my family is on the same tier as yours.”

Jang Won huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window.

“Just... just this once, and they’ll go easy. It’s not worth picking a fight with them, I promise you. Okay?”

Jang Won struggles to remove the frown off her forehead. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows his parents are shitty people.

And yet, for some reason, she’s jealous that Juyeon even has parents to feel obligated towards.

Destiny, prophecy, fate. You name it. Just what is it that makes things so complicated in life? Circumstances can be created, changed, altered. Jang Won can question God about how she ended up right in this very spot every day, but she won’t get an answer, ever. Juyeon can wonder why she had to be the one responsible for her mother’s mistake, and he’ll never know why either.

Juyeon trails carefully behind Jang Won, slightly surprised that she wasn’t visiting the area’s best hospital for her medical checkups. Not that this was one was bad, but it was... affordable. Taking in the sights and sounds as he enters the main hall, Jang Won advances towards the registration counter and pulls off her sunglasses.

“Here,” She slides a clipboard to the side. “Fill this visitor registration form up.”

Juyeon picks up the pen, watching her pull out her wallet and hand it over to the administration staff.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Ms Yoo Hye In.”

Juyeon’s eyes dart upwards from the visitor registration sheet, pupils flitting between the administrator and Jang Won, who was calmly signing into some check in registry. He can feel his breath grow shaky and unstable and all of a sudden, Jang Won’s looking at him like he was the crazy person in the room.

“What? Are you okay?”

He parts his lips to deny the question, wishing to brush it off and simultaneously, maybe convince himself that it was just someone with the same name.

“Jang Won! I was wondering if you were going MIA today again.”

Ironically, his heart stops. Jang Won puts on her service smile and provides her doctor a subtle wave as the two close the distance between them.

“Of course not. Gotta make my check-up down-payment worth it. I can’t run around the city working my work if I’m unwell, can I?”

“Well, I see you brought the future director of Apple-Korea with you,” Yoo Hye In turns to Juyeon, eyes bright and her smile convincingly kind. Her hair was short, well trimmed, and Juyeon was almost in shock that he could see the similarities between her and Jang Won.

The tycoon whips her head upon the silence, almost shifting to nudge him. “Juyeon.”

“No, no, it’s okay! No need to rush him,” Yoo Hye In grins widely, offering a hand to him. “I’m Jang Won’s personal doctor, Yoo Hye In. You can call me Hye In.”

#multifandomnet #destinyverse #ficscafe #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #juyeon fic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #tbz fanfic #tbz imagines #lee juyeon scenario #juyeon fanfic #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #tbz #tbz juyeon #love me a little less

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hauntedfalcon · 3 years ago

Text

living in midnight

for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat

the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3

read on AO3 or below

Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.

Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.

She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.

“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”

Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.

A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.

“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”

“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.

Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.

Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.

“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”

The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.

Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--

“Pronto.”

Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.

“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.

A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.

“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.

“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”

“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”

White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.

Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.

“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”

She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.

And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.

There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.

In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.

The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”

Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.

“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”

“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.

“I’m glad she made it that long.”

“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.

Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.

The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”

That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.

A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.

Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.

The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”

No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”

“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.

But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”

The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.

“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.

Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.

“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”

It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.

“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”

No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.

But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”

Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”

And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”

She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…

“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”

“Celeste,” says the woman.

Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.

Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.

Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.

#The Old Guard #Nile Freeman #nileweek2021

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