#I need to ask for a lower dose of long acting awake meds because I should not still be feeling it when I took them at like 8:20 am.

[wanderingandfound]

I totally meant to go to bed at a reasonable hour, even if it wasn't going to be quite on time due to how late I ate dinner.

[izukuwus]

Rest (and Other Things You Force On Your Boyfriend)

A/N: So this is technically a sequel to Bunny Eyes but it can be read completely standalone. There’s no real reason for him to be a bunny in this other than I Wanted Him To Be, and honestly, what else do you even NEED?

man I just wanna snuggle with nearly every iteration of this bunny boi. send cuddles pls.

Summary: In which your bunny boyfriend catches your flu and now you’re taking care of him. (sick!bunny!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: issa sickfic, izu has the flu. no emetophobia, not even in passing, mostly just fever and discussion of taking meds

Word Count: 2000-ish

~

Oh, you wish you could find the strength within yourself to not feel guilty.

It's his fault! You told Izuku not to kiss you and tried to push him away and now he's got the flu and you're the one taking extra-good notes to teach him the information after class while he's pretending to rest all day!

And yet. And yet. You still feel guilty about letting him get sick.

"If I'd only been stronger," you wail dramatically as you walk back from shopping with Ochaco and Tsuyu. They'd gone with you to help you purchase proper boyfriend-doting supplies, which definitely didn't include proper soup ingredients or a cute new dress that happens to look like a fashionable version of scrubs so you could act as his nurse proper.

Ochaco pats your shoulder in solidarity. "You tried your best, [name]-chan. It was only a matter of time before Deku-kun got sick, too."

Tsuyu places a thoughtful finger to her chin. "He was pretty stubborn about taking care of you when you were still sick, kero. Did he even wear a mask when he was taking care of you?"

"No," you groan. "I insisted, but he's an idiot."

Ochaco rolls her eyes as she opens the door for your poor arms-full self. You smile and curtsy before walking through to enter the dorm's common area, where you promptly drop your shopping bags. "Izuku!"

"Oh no," comes the quiet response as green rabbit ears snap to attention, followed by a (thankfully muffled) sneeze. Izuku appears to have dragged himself downstairs to study, a medical mask over his mouth and nose as he pores over an open notebook. At his side, having just been lowered in defeat on sight of you, is a hand weight. "I-I thought you were going to be gone all day?" he tries sheepishly.

You stomp across the room to him, not coming to a stop when you reach him. Instead, you scoop him up off the couch, eliciting a surprised yelp as he clings to you. "[N-name!]" he whines. His drawn-out complaint is cut off by his own racking coughs, and you're careful to tighten your bridal carry until his body stops shaking.

"You're going to rest," you demand when his coughs have calmed. "Honestly, how did you even get down here? When I was still sick I could hardly make it to the bathroom in my room!"

"I'm on a lower floor than you?" he says, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. "...fine. I came downstairs to take my trash out and couldn't make it back up myself, so I sent Shouji-kun up to my room with my key so I at least had something to do while I recovered."

"Unbelievable," you mutter. "You're supposed to be resting. I told you I'd do all that for you when I got back from shopping, didn't I?"

"B-but I'm tired of resting," he complains.

You turn and glance over your shoulder at your very amused girl friends. "Sorry, can I ask you girls to take my shopping up to my room for me? It looks like I've got some nurse duties to handle—"

"I-I can handle myself at least while you—" Izuku begins to protest weakly, struggling a bit in your arms.

You sigh and cut him off. "Izuku, I love you, but if you don't be quiet and let me carry you to bed so you can get some rest and then actually get some rest, I will literally call your mom."

He lets out a squeak, hiding his face in your chest. "Got your key with you?"

He nods. "In my pocket," he mumbles.

You bump the elevator button and carry him up to his room, humming gently as you approach his door. You're careful to fish out his room key and unlock his door, and then more careful not to break said door down when you wrench it open with one foot.

"Alright, health check, bunny boy," you say sweetly after dropping him on his bed. "Cooperate honestly and I'll reward you, alright?"

He nods, pulling his medical mask off to reveal his pout and twitchy nose. "What kind of reward?"

"Depends on how well you cooperate with me, Zu-kun," you chirp as you set about getting the stuff you need and shutting (and locking, just in case) his door. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Dunno."

"How's your appetite?"

"Bad."

"Can I convince you to eat a few crackers?" you ask. Izuku groans at the question, about to complain, but you don't give him the chance. "Reward, Zu-kun," you remind him gently.

"I-I might be able to stomach a few."

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth it," you hum, reaching for the sleeve of crackers and taking one between your teeth, careful not to bite down as you cross the room to him. You waggle your eyebrows at him suggestively as you sit down, leaning in close. It's hard not to laugh when his already surely fever-flushed face goes even redder when he realizes what you're suggesting, and even harder not to squeal when he takes the opposite corner of the cracker in his teeth and pulls it away from you.

It'd be seductive if only he didn't look so pathetic right now, which you mean in the most loving way possible. He's still your adorable muscly bunny boy, but he's also visibly ill and very carefully nibbling on a saltine cracker held in both hands.

When he's forced down the whole thing, you press a slow kiss to his forehead, frowning when you realize just how hot he feels. "Izu, honey, I'm going to take your temperature," you say, grabbing the thermometer from the kit.

Sure enough, his temperature reads feverish, at a concerning 100.6 degrees. You worry your lip, glancing between him and the thermometer.

"How is it?" he croaks. You shove a water bottle towards him with a meaningful look and reach for your phone. Luckily, you have Recovery Girl's number after you got sick, so calling her won't be an issue. 

"You're fine, honey," you say gently, ruffling his hair. "You should lay down. I'm going to get your medicine and your things from downstairs, okay?"

The absolute angel doesn't suspect a thing, letting you guide him to lay down. He refuses the blanket, which is fair.

"When I'm back, I'll have you take your meds and then we can cuddle for a bit, alright, 'Zu-kun?"

He nods.

"Okay, do you want the fan on?"

Another nod. You flip the switch for his ceiling fan on your way out, careful not to lock yourself out, and wait until you're out of the elevator on the bottom floor to make the call.

You tangle one hand through your hair as Recovery Girl answers with one of her trademark sighs. "Please tell me he hasn't broken something while he has the flu."

"He hasn't!" you say as you set about gathering his things. Bakugo glares at you (for some reason) as he pointedly drowns the room in disinfectant spray. "No, no broken bones. I'm calling because his fever's gotten worse."

"How bad is 'worse', exactly?" 

"You told me to call if he got above 100.4."

"And?"

You nervously thumb the thermometer in your pocket. "100.9. He's mostly acting calm and going along with treatment, but apparently he came downstairs earlier while I was out and couldn't make it back to the elevator, and honestly, he's so stubborn that actually listening to me is almost more concerning, and I—"

"Calm down, sweetheart. I'm on my way over. You know the drill, make sure he's not dehydrated and in bed, and give him a Tylenol."

"Yes ma'am. He hasn't taken his regular medication yet, I'm about to give it to him once I get back upstairs with his things. Thank you, I'll do all that right away."

"See you as soon as I've finished handling this student, dear," she says, and you're answered with a click as she hangs up. You pocket your phone, scoop up the last of his things, and scurry back up the stairs to your hopefully resting boyfriend.

When you return to him, he's laid down on his bed, facing the wall with his phone in his hand. You're not sure whether to be annoyed that he isn't asleep yet or glad you don't have to wake him to get him to choke down his own disgusting flu medicine.

A single ear turns in your direction when you enter, and you note with amusement that his tail also twitches at your arrival. "Recovery Girl is on her way over," you say gently. "I've got your regular medicine and some Tylenol to kick your fever down. I'm sorry I called her, but you're running a bit too high for comfort and I don't know what else I can do so..."

Izuku makes a noncommittal hum. You suppose he's only half awake, so you set down his things and lean over him, waggling both bottles of medicine within his line of sight. "Come on, up and at 'em for just a moment longer, okay?"

"I thought you wanted me to rest," he whines weakly, slowly sitting up with a pout.

You sit where he'd been laying. "Flu medicine and Tylenol first. We gotta deal with your fever, 'Zu-kun." 

He whines, but lets you give him the right doses of each and set the bottles of medicine aside. Before you can get up, though, he's laid back down, arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your lap. "C-can I sleep here?" he mumbles, not looking up at you.

"I promised you a reward for cooperating with me, right?" you hum, winding fingers through his hair to gently scratch his scalp. "Rest as long as you need to, baby."

"Thank y'. Lo'you." His words turn to slurred speech as he snuggles up close, and as you play with his hair, you rest your head against the wall. It's not long before your eyes drift closed and your fingers still in his hair, resting at the base of his ears.

When you wake up next, you're still sat there with Izuku snuggled up to your stomach. He opens one eye to look up at you blearily before wordlessly yanking you down so you're lying next to him. Before you can respond, he's laid on top of you, his face buried in your chest as his ears tickle your face.

"'Zuzu—" you start, wriggling in his vice grip.

"You already had this flu strain, so you're safe," he mumbles back.

"Get your ears out of my face before I bite them." Despite your words, you press a kiss to the space between his ears.

"Mm, what if I'd like that? You should know by now that I—owww..."

You snort, releasing his ear from your teeth and pressing a kiss to the spot you'd just bit. "Love you~"

You can actively feel him pouting against your chest, grumbling something suspiciously similar to "I guess I love you too". You giggle, nuzzling the top of his head as he flattens his ears back.

"I'll make it up to you when you're feeling better, Izuku," you promise before the both of you fall back asleep. He doesn't respond, but his tail and ears both twitch at your words. You coax him back to sleep with soft kisses, noting out of the corner of your eye that there's a note tacked carefully on the headboard. You snatch it up, careful not to disturb the bunny as you read.

It's a note from Recovery Girl. Apparently, she came by while you were still asleep. She's just chiding you for both being asleep when she arrived, and left you a few instructions. You let the note fall , deciding it's best to address it later. For now, you've got a nap with your sick boyfriend to deal with, and if he rests better with you in his arms, well, who are you to deny him?

Taglist: @zylith-imagines-and-fics​ @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @hypercriticals @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

7 Days to Die - Part 6

Home

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Danneel x Reader (Jenneel)

Warnings: Scary situation, implied smut, implied threesome, poly-relationships, maybe fluff (it’s a feel good one I think)

Word Count: 2,086

Summary: It’s a race against the clock when Danneel doesn’t get better. The reader and Jensen trek far to get the meds she needs. And discover some feelings along the way.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Main Masterlist

7 Days to Die Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

~

“How’s Danneel?” Jensen asked.

“Look boss, there’s no easy way to tell you this.” Benny says.

Misha enters to conversation, having finished with Y/N. “Dee’s fever keeps getting worse, though we keep lowering it as best we could, but it just keeps going up.” He explains.

“It’s odd, if the kids and her had the same shit, and the kids bounced back just fine. They’re with Gen by the way.” He explains, quickly adding. “But she just gets worse. And keeps getting worse no matter how hard we fight against it. And I’m running out of supplies.” He says.

“We got to find out quick, I’m not losing her either.” Jensen urges.

 When Y/N woke up, Danneel was still fighting a fever.

She walked out of the infirmary feeling achy but better. She heads to the camp entrance to find Benny and Jensen standing watch.

“How long was I out?” she asks, startling them.

“Chic’s a silent walker.” Benny says, placing a hand over his own chest.

“Yeah she is.” Jensen says, walking over to her. Engulfing her in a hug.

“Thank god you’re okay.” He whispers.

“You were worried about me?” she asked.

“Of course, I am, you’re my friend. You had my back, saved me countless times.” He says.

Countless times? She wondered.

“How’s your wife?” she asked.

“She’s still fighting a fever. Her immune system is overrun by a virus. And they’re trying to find the right meds to fight it.” He says.

“Let me look at my map for check points, I have all kinds of markers on my map.” She says.

“Now, why do you have a special map and we don’t?” Benny asked.

“Because it’s where I’ve been. I’ve walked all the way up here from the states.” She says. “Been across my share of military base camps, medic camps, you name it, I’ve seen it.” she adds. As she digs in her pack to pull out a stack of maps. Labeling them as such, military, medical, food and shelters.

And she took Jensen’s map, being a map of the Vancouver area, mostly just the British Columbia territory.

She does the math, considering her maps are in states, and towns from where she’s visited. She needs to map out how far the trek would be.

 She was doing the math in a cabin used for security. She comes out, looking not too happy, yet not too sure either.

“How bad?” Jensen asks.

“Well, do you want good news first or bad news?” she asked.

“Do they go hand in hand?” he asks. She nods. “Good news then.” Jensen says.

“Okay, I found a camp that is labeled to have meds, and supplies for CDC officials. They have camps all over the US.” She says.

“Bad news is, it’s far.” Jensen says. She nods, closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Yes, it’s about a week’s walk or more. But if I have a horse, or a car, I could get there faster.” She says.

“You’re not going alone.” Jensen says.

Considering walkers, raiders and cannibals, she needs someone to watch her back.

“Fine, but do we have that mode of transportation or not?” she asked.

“We kept the Impala, but there’s too high of a risk of it either attracting the wrong attention or attention period. Or it breaking down. It’s been acting up.” Benny says.

“I bet; you guys must have put some miles on it.” Y/N says.

“That we did.” Jensen says.

“There’s a Jeep in back, it’s new. One of the kids hijacked it and brought it here. You could use that.” Benny says.

“Okay, we need to pack and leave. Now. My wife can’t wait any longer.” Jensen urges.

“Already packed, let’s hit it.” Y/N says.

 With the occasional off roading, she sped the whole way to the camp on the map.

The camp was, just outside of Seattle Washington. She made it within a day.

The camp came into view as they screeched to a halt.

“Grab all that you can, we’ll haul it in the Jeep.” Jensen says. Y/N nods.

They ran in the abandoned camp, going from tent to tent, building to building, grabbing jars of medicine, bandages, antiseptics, surgical supplies, even gowns and gloves. They made multiple trips, carrying arms full of loot.

They heard a hiss of a walker nearby.

Once they thing they got everything, the got in the Jeep and drove back to Vancouver.

 The engine showing signs of overheating caused them to stop. They were still miles from the camp, but they weren’t about to carry all the medical supplies they looted.

Jensen parks the Jeep on the side of the road, turning off the lights so as to not draw attention to them. And prepares to keep watch as Y/N works at getting comfortable.

She kept tossing, not finding that sweet spot she could tolerate sleeping in.

“Sorry, this isn’t comfortable of place to stay.” Jensen says.

“It’s okay, it’ll still do. I’ll just wait a bit. Try to relax before I try to sleep.” She says.

“I just hope that this is enough to help her fight.” Jensen says.

“It is, I was grabbing some very wordy, and lengthy names of medicines, for some reason that told me it’ll help her. Just got to have faith Jensen. She’ll make it.” She says. “Besides…We pretty much cleared the camp and emptied it of everything.” She added. Jensen nods.

Lifting the center console to reveal a middle seat, he sits closer. She didn’t question it, she embraced him. She can feel him tremble at the thought of losing his wife. He just needed the assurance that she’ll be okay.

Jensen buried his face in the crook of her neck as they hugged, taking in her comfort.

When he pulls away slowly, his hand still by the nape of her neck, she sees him look at her lips. Then leans in slowly, hesitantly. And lightly brushes his lips along hers in a gentle kiss.

It took her a minute to register before she kissed him back.

They’re lips moved together in the kiss, as they poured out their love into it.

They were letting in breaths in through their noses as they continued, and deepening the kiss.

Jensen’s tongue brushing along her lip, asking for permission. She parts her lips, allowing him access.

He works her down onto her back, laying in the front seat of the Jeep. As their moment begins to build into something more.

 The sun was about to rise when they decided it was time to hit the road.

Despite the pleasurable night, neither one got any shut eye. But felt rested and content. As they drove, Y/N sitting in the middle seat leaning into Jensen’s side as he drove.

Entering the complex with the supplies, they rushed to get Danneel the meds she desperately needs, and it quickly became a waiting game after the first few doses.

She just had sex with Jensen Ackles, how will Danneel react if she wakes up? Or was that just a heated moment? Her mind reeled at the thoughts and scenarios. But all she can do, is wait.

 As the days passed, Danneel slowly improved.

And when she finally got the okay to go home she was eager to see Jensen again.

She saw him at his post, like always.

“Jensen?” she goes.

“Baby?” Jensen says, looking extremely happy she’s alive, healthy and awake.

He rushes to her and engulfs her in a big, tight hug.

“Jay, babe, I need to breathe.” Danneel says, after a while in his arms.

“Sorry, it’s just, I’ve come so close to losing you.” He says. “If it weren’t for Y/N, who drove me to keep looking for meds, you wouldn’t be awake right now.” He adds.

“Well then let me thank her too. She not only helped save me, but she kept my man sane.” She says.

“Think Misha has her out on a hunt, she should be back soon.” Jensen says. “She took Jared’s place.” He adds.

“Oh, where is he?” Danneel asked.

“On our trip back, he was scratched by a walker. He…died.” Jensen says, feeling remorseful looking back on that day.

“How’d Gen take it?” She asked.

“Not well, but she’s doing better. Y/N and I have been keeping an eye on her. Y/N’s been looking after the kids when she can.” Jensen says.

“This Y/N, she sounds quiet the character.” Danneel says.

“We’re back!” They heard from the trail. “And we got the good stuff in the way of food and clothes.” Y/N says leading her pack back.

“I’ll take the food over at Mass Hall.” Rob says, carrying a few of the boxes as he lead a few guys carrying food to said Mass Hall.

“And Benny and Jensen, weapons.” Y/N says, pointing to the Jeep, loaded to the brim with ammo crates, boxes of all kinds of weapon goodness.

“We’d be lost without her and her map.” Benny says as he checks in the weapons.

“And medical?” Jensen asked.

“Of course medical, I already brought it to the medical supply camp back there.” She says.

“Hi Danneel.” Y/N says, noticing she’s up and at them. “Nice to see you awake. Jensen wouldn’t stop worrying, I kept telling him you were fine.” She says.

“I’m glad you’ve been keeping him sane for the time being.” She says.

“Any word from Gen?” Y/N asks Jensen.

“She’s fine today, maybe watch our kids for Danneel. I don’t get off till late.” Jensen says.

“Will do.” Y/N says.

“I’ll walk you to the cabin.” Danneel says. Leading the way.

 That night, Y/N and Danneel just talked and talked as they watched the kids play and be kids from the front porch of their cabin, sitting on an outdoor couch. Danneel learned of what they did on their ventures. And how close Jensen came to dying due to the gun shot injury.

Even their moment on the drive back.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but, I’m not all for keeping secrets. It’s worse if you’ve kept it and they are just now discovering it in the most wrong way possible or worse if it’s years in the future.” Y/N explained.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Danneel says.

“Y-…You’re not?” Y/N asked, confused. “Most women when they find out their man did that, they’d be pissed.” She adds.

“For some reason I’m not.” She says. “And the more I hang out with you the more comfortable I am with you, it’s like…It’s like I’m falling for a girl, which hardly ever happens. Last girl I had a crush on tried to use me.” She adds.

“Oh, well I’m not all about that. And I’m flattered you like me. I like you too actually.” Y/N says.

Danneel smiles, and rests her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“If we continued this, would it be weird if…a married couple, such as ourselves, ever loved someone else. Like, make it a poly-relationship?” Danneel asked.

“Maybe to some. But I’m not weirded out by it, oddly enough. I guess as long as it’s something all three of us would want.” Y/N says. “And if all three of us, really loved each other.” She adds.

“My guts saying to do it.” Danneel says.

“Then lets. I mean, I feel like Jensen, like, I know his feelings toward me. I mean a few nights ago, that told me a lot. And if you want to try it, and I want to try it. Then I say let’s do it.” Y/N explains.

Danneel looks up at Y/N from where she sat, resting her head on her shoulder. Y/N returns the soft and content look. And Danneel takes that chance and delivers a gentle kiss.

Y/N quickly returns the kiss and the girls sat there, kissing sweetly until they hear a groan near them.

Jensen had quietly walked up the stairs to their porch, off duty, expressing how turned on he was with the dark expression in his eyes.

“That was so hot.” Jensen moans. As he takes two easy strides to his girls, kissing both sweetly on the lips.

“Something tells me, daddy’s wanting some.” Danneel says, with a devilish grin.

“And daddy want’s doubles.” Jensen says, turning to Y/N.

“Let’s get the kids in, it’s getting late.” Y/N says with a smile as Jensen kisses her neck. Giggling when his lips gently suck on her pulse point. Only to turn into a moan when he doesn’t stop sucking and biting the patch of skin.

“And inside we go.” Danneel goes, break them up and guiding them inside.

~

Jensen Tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @moonlight-on-her-skin​, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy​, @salt-n-burn-em-all

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 10/28/2020

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 19: On the Line

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn  A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Bucky had traveled 3,575 miles on nothing more than a combustive cocktail of desperation, adrenaline, and frayed nerves.

He hadn’t eaten, showered, or slept in almost two days, but that hadn’t mattered, and even with nothing but a city name to go by, he still managed to track Steve down. He’d waited anxiously and expectantly; practiced what he wanted to say; braced himself for what he anticipated would be, at most, a very soul-crushing, heart-breaking, go-on-a-bender-right-afterward rejection…  

However, instead of a rebuff, Bucky received a bullet to the chest, and he didn’t even know the prick who capped him, let alone the reason for it.

A subsequent ride in a dilapidated mini-van with a rank interior, and a dipshit behind the wheel who drove like they were playing a fucking pinball machine instead of operating a motorized vehicle. The shocks – if they’d ever existed at all – had done nothing to absorb the impact of the chaotic ride, and Bucky tried not to howl like a wounded animal as everything quaked, rattled, and rolled around him.

The jacket used to help plug the leak was his own, but Steve was the one who kept continued pressure on the wound. Bucky was in the trunk, with all two-hundred-forty-pounds and six-feet-two-inches of Steve’s body straddled over him, and when Steve wiped the back of his hand across his sweat-drenched forehead, a streak of Bucky’s blood was left behind.

“Drive faster!” Steve yelled toward the front.

“I’m going as fast as this putain de boîte de conserve will allow!” came a harried reply.  

As they careened around a sharp corner, Steve redoubled his efforts, and pushed down harder. The goal was to keep Bucky from being jostled, but all it did was exacerbate the pain. In a matter of minutes, he wasn’t able to take a full breath, or comply with Steve’s repeated commands for him to keep his eyes open.

“Hey, hey, look at me!” he bellowed. “God-fucking-damn-it, Buck, don’t you fuckin’ dare do this to me!”

Everything eventually came to a grinding halt, and then, things started to move way too fast again. Someone dragged him out of the van and he would’ve screamed if he’d had the oxygen to spare. He was transferred onto something soft, and then, prodded, poked, and asked questions he couldn’t answer because he was too busy wheezing and spitting up blood.

Another individual shined a light in his eyes and flatly remarked, “pupils responsive.” Another person said, “possible perforation of the right lung,” and he thought to himself, “Again?” Then, it was all barked orders and issued statements – remove the bullet; control the bleeding; repair the damage.

Bucky was going under – knew he was being dangled over the fucking grave – but he somehow managed to force his eyes open. When he blindly and wildly batted his hand around, someone grabbed it, and then, a pair of watery, baby-blues appeared in his line of sight. A voice insisted he needed to be taken into surgery immediately, and ordered Steve to let him go, but Bucky couldn’t allow that, because the darkness was closing in fast, and he needed to get it out before it was too late.

He tried to make his heavy tongue and blood-caked lips form the words. He tried to say it once – just one, fucking time – but his body was broken and uncooperative. The only thing Bucky could do was hold on, and he held on as tight as he could for as long as he was able, but all too soon he was forced under, and down into the darkness.

If Bucky had been asked to wager his chances of survival, he wouldn’t have bet on it. Given the deadly accuracy of the shooter and the massive blood loss, he figured the odds just weren’t in his favor, and when he woke up a few days later, he was both extremely shocked and very, very confused.

“M’alive?” he croaked to nobody in particular.

Natasha gasped and all but jumped out of her chair, “You’re awake?”

He tried to ask where he was and what happened, but she suddenly dashed for the door; a few seconds later, Natasha was back by his side, and accompanied by an attending physician who explained what had occurred while he’d been unconscious.

Apparently, Bucky was a lucky man; if the bullet had entered just an inch to the left, he would’ve been dead, but swift action and proximity to the best hospital in France had kept him out of the morgue. From there, he’d spent six hours with a surgeon; he’d flatlined a time or two, but the woman who’d been in charge of putting his sorry ass back together had stubbornly refused to let him die on her table.

Whatever else Bucky was told went in one ear and out the other; it wasn’t his first rodeo, and he knew he could anticipate at least two weeks of disgusting food and awkward bedside manner before he was released. The nurse who arrived a few minutes later gave him some water, went over the rules of the morphine pump, and showed him how to call for aid. After being told he would make a full recovery, Natasha shook hands with the medical staff, and thanked them for everything they’d done. Bucky was exhausted from just listening, but he also nodded in thanks, and as soon as they departed, he depressed the button to release the pain medication.

As soon as he woke and was somewhat coherent again, Natasha explained what happened. Apparently, Mason Dubois’s security detail had viewed Bucky’s unexpected presence in Paris as a threat, and since Steve was considered to be Mason’s boyfriend, that concern extended to him as well. The guard had just been doing his job, but nevertheless, Natasha assured him the matter had been dealt with, and that Dubois would see Bucky was well-compensated for the egregious mistake.

Bucky was in and out of it for about a week, not only because he was exhausted, but because the meds made him drowsy and unable to focus. He barely remembered when Tony, Thor, Wanda, Clint, and Bruce arrived, and save for consistently disappointing meals and lukewarm sponge baths, he really didn’t have the energy or patience for much else.

Over the next few days, they took turns visiting and keeping an eye on him, but the one person Bucky wanted to see had yet to make an appearance. He wasn’t sure of the time when he next opened his eyes, but he knew it was late because the lights had been dimmed, the door was shut, and his newest sentry was snoring and mumbling in his sleep.

Instead of using the cot one of the nurses had brought in, Steve was hunched forward in a chair at Bucky’s bedside. His torso was propped up on the edge of the mattress, and he had his face tucked in the crook of one arm, while the other rested heavily across Bucky’s waist. Though he was desperate for another hit of the mind-numbing, pain-relieving drugs, Bucky didn’t dose himself; instead, he reached out an unsteady hand, and gently stroked Steve’s hair.

The twitching and frantic murmurings stopped on a dime, and the contented sigh he let out made Bucky’s chest constrict even tighter. His vision was blurred and the room was dim, but he could still see Steve so clearly, and even after everything that had happened, he knew – Bucky knew Steve was the one.

Steve was the man he’d set everything aside for and put it all on the line for. It was Steve who he thought of and dreamed about; who he missed, desired, and needed every second of the fucking day; who he wanted to call when he was happy; who he wished to talk to when he was at the end of his rope; who he wanted to laugh with, take on the world with, and be with until he well and truly kicked the bucket.

Bucky stared down at Steve -- the man who’d literally saved his life twice -- and finally knew what he wanted to say.

The shaky hand he’d been carding through Steve’s hair became rock steady, but before he could act, the handle of the room’s door was turned, and the sound startled Steve out of his slumber. The speed at which he got to his feet and took a fighting stance meant he was being hypervigilant, but then, he seemed to come to his senses, muttered something about the nurse being right on time, and lowered his fists.

Every hour, on the hour – that was the schedule for rounds, and the staff was diligent. They checked his vital sheets, and if Bucky was awake, asked about his pain level, inquired after his comfort, and wondered if he needed assistance getting to the bathroom. The checkup was thorough and efficient, and Steve didn’t take his eyes off the nurse until the examination was complete and they were left alone again.

Steve rubbed his eyes and smothered a yawn, “Natasha will be here to take over and--”

“I was wrong,” Bucky interjected soberly. “And I should’ve never let you go five years ago.”

If Steve had just turned around and left, it wouldn’t have surprised him. If he’d told him to fuck off and never speak to him again, he would’ve deserved it. If Steve had threatened to re-open his chest wound; if he’d said it was too late; that what Bucky had put him through was unforgivable; that he’d already moved on -- that, too, would’ve been warranted.

When Steve didn’t say or do anything, Bucky knew he had his answer. He had to accept it, but that didn’t mean he had to face both the pain of his loss and his injury; he reached for the little baton connected to the morphine pump, but Steve was quick, and snatched it right out of his hand.

“You don’t get to say that to me and just check out afterward,” he snapped. “Tell me the real reason you’re in France – and don’t insult me by lying to me.”

Given the lengths Bucky had gone to in order to shore up power and neutralize threats in the past, it was more than fair for Steve to assume he’d flown all the way to Paris on business. The enraged look in his eyes suggested he believed Bucky had found out about Mason Dubois, and that the only reason he’d traveled cross-country was to put a stop to whatever was going on between them. It would’ve been easier had that been the case, but it wasn’t.

The real reason had nothing to do with business, but had everything to do with what Bucky knew to be true and what he felt deep down in his marrow: without Steve, he would never know peace, happiness, or rest, and Bucky’s love for him was more important than his so-called pride.

“You asked me what I wanted,” he choked out raggedly. “And what I want is you. That’s why I’m here.”

A myriad of expressions flitted across Steve’s face; at first, he appeared to be dumbfounded. Then, he bounced between frustration and sorrow, before he resolutely settled on incredulity and disbelief.

“You know, you had me for a minute there,” Steve asserted as he dropped the morphine switch back down on the bedspread. “But then, I remember who you are, and realize I can’t believe a single word that comes out of your deceitful fucking mouth.”

Bucky was trying to breathe through his torment and think of what to say when Steve suddenly turned, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and left without a backward glance. His abrupt departure prompted Bucky to toss back the blanket and yank the IV from his arm. He was in no condition to be up and about just yet, but he got to his feet anyway, and shuffled out to the hall.

As soon as his toes passed the threshold, it was all, “Monsieur Barnes,” this and, “Tu dois retourner au lit,” that, but Bucky ignored the fuss. A quick glance to the right showed nothing but a long hallway of rooms, but when he looked left, he spotted the exit, and watched as Steve headed brusquely for it.

Foregoing his meds wasn’t the wisest decision Bucky had ever made. Being upright, let alone walking around without assistance, was also rather stupid. Using the wall for balance instead of parking his ass safely in a wheelchair? Definitely not a good idea, either. And shouting Steve’s name at the top of his scarred lungs in the middle of an otherwise respectfully quiet hospital hallway – yeah, that was bad, too.

But on a scale of, “Meh, screw it,” to, “What the actual fuck am I doing?” yelling out a declaration of love to a man who clearly wanted nothing more to do with him was really off the charts.

Steve halted mid-stride and the moment he chose to turn around was the exact second Bucky’s legs decided to give out on him. He folded like a cheap-ass lawn chair, went down hard on his knees, and felt one of his many stitches pop in the process.

The automatic door hissed open and swooshed shut. A doctor was paged over the intercom and an ambulance wailed in the distance. Some teenage girl in the lobby gasped and the woman seated next to her sniffled. A muffled, drawn-out scream, and then, the cries of a newborn. The phone at the front desk rang, but nobody moved or picked it up. When one of the staff eventually tried to aid him, he refused the assistance, and hung his head.

Bucky remained kneeling on the linoleum like a wretched supplicant, but soon, he wasn’t alone in his prostration. Dark-washed denim against bare skin, followed by a pair of sturdy hands that lifted him up and off the cold floor. Bucky was torn open; all raw, vulnerable, and exposed; and nothing more than a complicated, dead weight that bled and wept in Steve’s strong arms.

As he was carried back to his room, he had to bite down on his own fist to stop himself from sobbing. As soon as Steve set him down on the bed, the nurses swarmed, and proceeded to admonish him in both English and French while they cleaned, stitched, bandaged, and doped him back up. Bucky was back beneath the sheets and on the fringes of passing out again when Steve abruptly shook him awake.

“Did you mean it?” he asked gruffly. “Did you really mean what you said?”

He opened his eyes, fixed Steve with a level stare, and allowed both the tears and irrevocable words to tumble and fall. This time, there was no chance of misunderstanding; no room for subterfuge; and no backing out. When he repeated it again for good measure, Steve sighed, leaned over the bed, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth.

Bucky knew Steve’s caress and murmured, “I love you, too,” didn’t mean all was forgiven.

But it was a pretty good fucking start.

Translations: Putain de boîte de conserve – Fucking tin-can. Tu dois retourner au lit – You must return to bed.

Chapter 20: Evermore

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @lilliannaansalla

[12miraenie]

Trial---pt 5

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, slight fluff…maybe?

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader, Sehun x Reader

Warning: Guns, weapons, drugs, explicit language

Word Count: 1875

Chapter Summary: Pretending to be someone you are not is not easy, when  reality sinks in and you are stuck in a dilemma, what are you going to do? 

✾ Link to Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2.1 | pt 2.5 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | 

You are living in a dream. You have to be.

The things you do with Sehun together made you wonder what your life could be. Does everybody else lives this way? Do they only have to worry about what to eat for dinner, or going to work in the morning, what to do on the weekends? Life seems so slow here.

You didn't have to deal with gruesome mafia business every day. It wasn’t that much of a deal to see dead bodies or blood before, because you were already trained to be numb about it, either in the prison or in the mafia. But now you can’t bear to think about some of the things you’ve seen or done. Plus, you don’t have to look at Baekhyun’s face and be reminded of your painful history anymore. Every second in front of him was excruciating. You recalled that there had never been a day you went to sleep peacefully, without the problem of insomnia or nightmares.

“Y/N? I’m back.” Turning around, you saw Sehun shutting the door behind him. His hands were busy with three bags of food and a tray of coffee when Sehun fumbled to hang up the jingling keys. When people first meet him, clumsiness is the last thing they would associate him with. Sehun’s defined features and tall height makes him stand out in the crowd too easily, and from the conversations you had in the gala, he left matching impressions to people. Confident, decisive, and a little arrogant.

You couldn't hold it in anymore and giggle. Sehun had finally managed to put everything back in place and shot you an annoyed look.

“Yah, if you are just gonna stay there and laugh, come help me with the food.”

You took the takeout bags from his hand and walked into the kitchen. Once again, its contents were way too heavy for two people to finish.

“Oh Sehun, you are going to make me fat one day! How can we even finish this one thing?” You pointed to the whole chicken when Sehun tapped your shoulder. Turning around, you almost squealed when Sehun pressed a cup of coffee to your lips.

“Three shots, vanilla milk, no sugar.” He repeated your coffee preference, and tapped your lips with the cup again, urging you to try. Closing your eyes, you took a sip and sighed in content.

“Is it good?”

Sehun’s voice sounded too close. You opened your eyes and realized he was less than a foot away from you. You could see each strand of his hair clearly, and distinguish each eyelash. The moment you locked eyes, you froze. The way he looked at you, like he often does,  gave confusing signals. Sometimes you wondered how much of your banters, conversations, and laughs were real. Were you still acting to be someone you are not? Or is this the real you? This just makes contacting Jongin harder for you every time. Thinking about the look of betrayal in Sehun’s eyes hurt you too much.  But despite how much of a dilemma you were in every day, you still text him about updates every week.

“I’m going to take a shower, ok?”

You waited until Sehun closed the bathroom door and took out your other phone. You sat on the bed and contemplated. This is a mission. You shook your head and convinced yourself. You can’t think otherwise.

“Jongin, I can’t-”

“Can’t what, Y/N?” You almost dropped your phone in shock, because instead of Jongin, it was Baekhyun's monotonic voice that reached your ears. You realized just then that it’s the first time you were having a conversation with him on the phone.

“What, Y/N? Cat got your tongue?”  

Despite the statics on the phone, you could still hear the mocking tone in his voice clearly. You had imagined what Baekhyun would look like right now, probably the same as the day he came to see you in the hospital.

“You are supposed to meet Jongin in person to debrief every week.”

You tried to calm down your breathing. Because you knew exactly why you changed the plan. You told Jongin it would look suspicious to Sehun if you go out every week because you didn’t want your cover blown. Then it reduced to calls and later texts.

You were afraid.

“It’s been a month, Y/N. Where is the fucking USB?” You could sense how furious Baekhyun was even from the other end of the phone. You gripped on the bedsheet for support.

“I-it must be in his office because I can’t find it anywhere!”

“Don’t give me excuses, you know that’s not true.” Baekhyun paused for a second and chuckled darkly, “Are you living together now? I mean if you are getting comfortable with him, probably too comfortable,” he dragged the last two words longer than necessary, making you aware of what he’s thinking, “Why can’t you get the job done?”

You gripped the phone tightly, “Are you watching me?”

Baekhyun didn't answer.

“You still owe me for saving your life. Don’t forget who you are.”  

-Flashback-

“You should go.”  The man before you coughed and tried to sit up, groaning at every move. You jolted awake from his sudden movement and winced at how uncomfortable the chair was. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you realized it has been 3 hours since you helped him home. You quickly grabbed two cushions on his couch and put it under his waist to support him. You didn’t budge and cut the old bandages that were already stained with blood.

“You are not nearly close to being recovered.” He raised a trembling hand trying to stop you, but you pushed it down gently.

“You don’t have any strength now, so just stay still.”

Sehun’s eyes were barely open a centimeter, but you could see the inquisition and silent judgment behind them. You scoffed inside, is he trying to read you when he’s one badly hurt?

Eventually, he chose to lie down and let you do your job. Securing the last bit of new bandages, you sighed in relief. At least this time red didn’t come through the gauze as fast as last time. You inspected his stomach area one more time and made sure everything was treated before moving on to the minor cuts and bruises on his face.

“Go to sleep, it’s only 5am, and you need to rest.” You pressed down an alcohol pad on a cut, Sehun hissed.

“Can’t...hurts too much.” He shook his head weakly. You popped two more painkillers out, but Sehun refused them.

“No, that one.” He pointed to a bottle with clear liquid in them. You picked it up and turned to check the label. Morphine Sulfate. Your eyes widened. How does he have Morphine stored in his house? You knew it’s strictly a prescription medicine. You turned to look at him, “How-”

“Just do it.”

You guessed a minor dose was probably fine. You never took notice until now how organized and professional his first-aid kit is. You tried not to care about little containers of different pills and solutions and fished for a new syringe in the kit.

“You seem to know what you are doing,” Sehun commented, seemingly casual.

You lifted one of your eyebrows when your hand nearly dropped the syringe. He is too smart and too observant for his own good. You realized that Sehun may have more to what he showed on the surface. Should you come up with a cover right now?

“I...am a med student.” You lowered your eyes and pretended to focus on the injection. He wouldn’t want to know why you were so fluent at this.

“First-hand experience, huh?”  You felt the increasing pace of your heart and panicked a little. Is he suspecting something now?

You pulled the syringe out and put a band-aid on.

“Yeah, you have no idea how much.” Unpleasant memories flashed back to your mind, you thought about your times stuck in the hospital under Baekhyun's orders. You’ve been injected with medicine so many times every day that you know exactly what to do even with your eyes closed.

“Do you want to stay here?” Sehun turned his head sideways and stared at you.

To be honest, Oh Sehun had surprised you more than you would think tonight. You froze and widened your eyes. Why would anyone ask a stranger to stay in their house? You opened your mouth, but no syllable came out. He chuckled weakly.

“You saved my life today, besides no normal med school student would go to a party like that,” he glanced you up and down, hands bloodied, dress ripped and stained with his blood. “And not be scared to death already by now.”

-End Flashback-

“Sorry, which one did you tell me you want?”

You and Sehun had gone furnish shopping because he suddenly thought his apartment was too bare and in need of some changes. He's been acting a lot more playful around you than usual, but you don't know if it means good or bad. You glanced at the different couches and was about to tell him that dark grey one looks nice when he spoke up.

“Umm, I think either that one or...this?” You lifted your eyebrows at the ones he was suggesting. One was an ugly mustard color, and the other was a weird emerald green. You were about to protest when his phone suddenly started ringing. Sehun’s face hardened at the caller ID. You were intrigued in an instant.  This must be important. Sehun sent you an apologetic smile and mouthed a word "work".  

You nodded, and he took a few steps away from you. From your peripheral vision, Sehun stayed rather silent, humming in response to whatever the person on the other end was saying until he mentioned a specific name.

“Chanyeol-,” your ears perked at the familiar name. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that name. You still shuddered at the interaction with the CEO of PK Enterprise, he is definitely not some ordinary businessman. Besides, you were sure Oh Sehun is tied to him in some ways. Just then you realized that you don't actually know a lot of things about the man you were living with.

“No, I don’t need you to remind me anymore.” Sehun’s lips were pursed, his tone was terse and cold, unlike the usual him. 

This was a different man.

“I need some time off work, tell Xiumin to do it.”

Your ears perked. Why can Sehun talk like that to Chanyeol, like they know each other so well? And who’s Xiumin?

This one phone conversation raised so many questions in your brain, and there you thought Sehun was just a secretary or a close associative under Chanyeol. You sighed, knowing that there won’t be any breakthrough on the USB soon. You suddenly lost the appetite to shop and didn’t even protest when Sehun paid for the mustard couch. You pushed the cart forward mindlessly and didn’t notice Sehun’s frequent glances your way.

“What’s wrong?”

You broke out of your trance and shook your head slightly.

“No-”

“If you don’t like the couch, we can change-”

You plastered a smile on your face and pretended like nothing’s wrong.

“It’s fine, really. I guess I’m just a little hungry.”

You were worried that he would see through your mask, but he nodded like he bought your story. Sehun cocked his head and thought for a while,

“Ah! Let’s eat pasta today! There’s a great place in Itaewon. And we can get bingsu later!”

Sehun brought his car around and helped you in. You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep. When did you start losing yourself little by little? You were getting more and more used to waking up to a table of food prepared by Sehun, drinking coffee in the morning, and buying groceries with him. Your everyday routine now was so simple, so domestic, but for some reason, you had fallen in love with it. You don’t think it would be easy for you just to leave it to return to the mafia. Somehow you had stopped considering your previous life as normality. Why do you crave being together with Sehun so much now?

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

“Boss. I just sent the pictures.”

Baekhyun found himself clenching his fists, uncontrollable anger rising in him. You looked so happy with Oh Sehun together, like you belong there, next to him.

Baekhyun gently tugged his silver necklace. It’s still there. The diamond shined brightly as ever, and the metal was still cold enough to sting his hand. So why does he feel like losing you little by little? Baekhyun tightened his jaw, he won't let that happen.

“Give me Yixing. It’s time for him to come back.”