simp42manyfandoms

[simp42manyfandoms]

Don’t Die on My Couch / Diego Hargreeves

Prompt fill! Diego x Reader • Enemies-to-Lovers • G!N reader • Prompt: "If you don’t want to be saved, then stop bleeding all over my floor."

They didn’t expect to open their door at midnight and find Diego Hargreeves glaring at them like this was somehow their problem to solve.

Then again, they didn’t expect him to show up at all—let alone half-dead, dripping blood like some tragic, pissed-off antihero.

They and Diego had a relationship that went on and off: one day they were enemies, the next, they could almost tolerate each other’s company.

They met pretty randomly—eighteen, broke, stuck behind a convenience store counter trying to survive on caffeine and sarcasm—when he stumbled in, beat up and furious.

They patched him up. He didn’t say much. They called him Batman.

It should’ve ended there.

It didn’t.

Nearly ten years later, he was bleeding on their couch.

“Nice place,” he grunted, staggering past them with all the grace of a wounded bear.

He looked so out of place in their sterile-clean, obsessively maintained apartment.

“Still looks like an asylum. All white and shit.”

“Still look like you belong in one,” they replied, arms crossed, watching him collapse dramatically onto their leather couch—and promptly ruin their favorite white throw pillow with a lazy, blooming smear of red.

“Seriously, Diego? What the hell?”

“I didn’t come here for your commentary.”

“No, clearly you came here to die dramatically on my rug.”

They sighed, turned off the TV, and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet like it was a ritual—because, with Diego, it basically was.

When they came back, he was hissing as he peeled off his jacket. That’s when they saw the deep, jagged slash running along his side, soaking his shirt in blood. Their stomach flipped. Their expression didn’t.

“You know,” they said, snapping the kit open a little too loud, “if you don’t want to be saved, then maybe don’t treat my place like a triage center.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me,” he muttered.

“You showed up at my door.”

“I was—nearby.”

“Oh, sure. Just happened to be bleeding out a block away from the one person who knows how to stitch your reckless ass back together?”

Diego didn’t answer. Jaw clenched. Eyes everywhere but on them.

They knelt beside him, voice sharp.

“Shirt off, Hargreeves.”

He raised a brow, ghost of a smirk flickering—but stayed silent. That worried them more than anything else.

“It must be worse than I thought. No cheeky comment?”

They started cleaning the wound, steady hands betraying none of the chaos in their chest.

He winced, but didn’t pull away. The silence between them was heavy—years of unfinished arguments, sharp banter, and something else neither of them wanted to name.

“Does it need stitches?”

His voice was quieter now. Reluctant.

“Yeah,” they said softly. “I know you hate it. I’ll be quick.”

They flipped on some random loud action movie—mostly for him. They knew about the needle thing. Diego Hargreeves didn’t fear much, but they’d seen the way he tensed when metal touched skin.

This time, he didn’t pass out. Barely flinched. But he was definitely trying not to breathe too hard.

When they were done, they pressed the gauze against the wound—just a little too hard.

“Sadist,” he muttered under his breath.

“You’d know, masochist,” they shot back, lips twitching.

Then, with a quiet exhale, they reached into the kit and pulled out a small cartoon bandage.

A Batman band-aid.

They peeled it open and carefully placed it over the gauze on his side.

His brows furrowed.

“Seriously?”

“It helps. You stop bleeding. I stop panicking. And for once, Batman’s actually being useful.”

There was a beat of quiet—and then, a small huff of laughter. Barely audible. But it was there.

They looked up at him.

“Next time… maybe just call before crashing into my place. I’ll unlock the door. Save you the dramatics.”

He looked at them then—really looked. Not like a man scanning for threats, but like someone realizing why he kept ending up here.

Something passed between them. Unreadable. Familiar.

“Next time,” he said, “I’ll try not to get stabbed.”

They raised a brow.

“So there’ll be a next time?”

He smirked, blood still drying across his ribs.

“You tell me, nurse.”

They rolled their eyes—but didn’t push him away.

And neither of them mentioned the way their fingers lingered just a little too long.

[simp42manyfandoms]

Ok for all my Bad Bunny girlies I made a few c.ai bots:

-This one is cool it's meeting him at a party Rauw Alejandro organized, my username is Ninartemis if anyone is interested

-This one's one where he knows you, you have featured on a few songs, people are speculating about your relationship and he's cohosting SNL with Jimmy and interviewing you

-In this one he's in love with you in secret and is stressed about it cause he's more used to being a player, you're cooking together in his kitchen

-This one is more of an angst one, if you feel depressed or anything he's here. You grew up together in PR and you left for another country and started feeling depressed and your parents called him because they noticed so he comes to your new country to take care of you.

-In this one he wrote MIA about you, you're dating but only you two know and it's his way of telling you, he gets you in the mv

-Here you meet him before fame at the supermarket he works at

I'm not very known so if you want more or have any prompt idea just dm me!!

[simp42manyfandoms]

Just did God's work, thank me later (;