#btw the puppy settled down........ perhaps i can write....

[tvrningout]

What kind of love are you?

Love as a Choice

You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.

Love as a Threshold

Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for wherever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.

tagged by: @un1awful thank you very much hehe <3 tagging: whoever sees this and hasn't done it!!

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Save me once and I’ll save you forever”

Part #3 “A wolf has no mercy”

cw : nsfw // vaginal fingering // a teeny tiny bit of gore because our warlord talks about war

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/39277077/chapters/102225399#main

well it’s been a month eh. yet, i still haven’t gotten the chance to write down all of my ideas. i have some fluff, more drama and angst up my sleeve but they’re all still in my head. the problem with me is that i’m more of a daydreamer than an avid writer. so i have bags and bags of ideas yet no real work to post :3 and oh, i’m also open for suggestions btw so if u’d like to see a particular scene or whatever, feel free to shoot it my way! no idea when i’ll post next tho xD

ps — perhaps in another universe, i do think our dearest warlord would be a majestically adorable tibeten mastiff

(づ ๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵) づ @htmlbitxh

Cold. Calculating. Callous.

In her life as a warlord, Ambessa Medarda has been a host of many terms, from a ferocious beast to an unfeeling monster. Her mastery in war and thirst for blood on the battlefield bring about her reputation as a ruthless warlord, for her blade knows no bounds. Man, woman, or child, enemy or ally; it will strike anything and everything that she deems an obstacle in her way to victory.

The war as she knows it; there are no foes nor friends, only the hunter and the hunted. A predator’s natural instinct is to hunt its preys. It is hardwired in its very base instinct to devour the weak.

The warlord has seen many a sight and survived many a situation to be easily deceived by some foolish theatrics. Tears. Curses. They do not move her. Nor do they perturb her. Far from it in fact. She finds it amusing the way men can turn 180 degrees in the span of a split second. Desperation has always had that compelling effect on people: forcing out one's true colours. She has watched people grovel at her feet, and then when a few well-woven words do not manage to get their wishes easily fulfilled, their facades fall, switching instead to crude, unsavoury words. She has listened to them swearing, screaming bloody murder at her just seconds before her blade cuts through their throats.

Rumors have it that Ambessa Medarda does not have a heart, and in those rumors, she believes.

Compassion and sympathy, the likes of such trivial emotions are the roots of all downfalls. If excelling at her duty makes her a monster, then a monster she will willingly become.

Comfortably asleep and nestled snugly in the claws of such carnivorous predator is a small bundle of warmth, a delicious little morsel confined in the cage of strong, unyielding arms.

Adorable. Affectionate. Cute.

Never in her life have the idea of someone linking her name with such silly words crossed her mind, but she will most likely find it laughable, the warlord thinks, and perhaps heavily insulting if anyone dares compare her to something as absurd as a puppy.

“My lady is like a giant puppy.”

It is not entirely surprising however that she finds the comment endearing instead, when the warm, beautiful voice that has softly caressed her ears belong to her charming little rabbit.

A drop of sunshine in a frozen wasteland.

She has laughed from her position between your legs. Arms draped over your thighs and fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your calfs. The silky smoothness of your delicate flesh yields beneath her weight as she settles herself further into your arms.

“Oh?”

There is a halt in those digits dancing gracefully along the hard plane of her shoulder when the delightful little flutter on the side of your neck is sucked into her mouth.

“Are you implying that I am a dog, little shepherd?”

“Having discovered that you behave like a rather affectionate puppy at times, I am simply stating, my lady, that I find you adorable. It’s really cute.”

She feels your delicate fingers on her face next, cradling sharp jaws in the palms of gentle hands. The pair of lips that stamp a kiss onto her temple is warm, achingly soft.

Once your finger follows a wayward strand of hair into a jungle of healthy curls, you observe the calm sea of grey disappears behind peachy eyelids. Slipping through your digits like expensive silk is your lady’s magnificent mane, for not only is she blessed by thick strands, they are equally as luscious.

You revel in having your fingers buried in softness. You would imagine it is how it feels to dip your fingers into a sea of clouds. So incredibly fluffy. Likewise, if the way your lady rubs her cheek subtly against your jaw is any indication, she appears to be relishing the languid moment. It only proves your point further that not everything is as it seems.

The version of your lady that is built upon hearsay may not entirely be correct, but you believe most of it to be true because not only have you beheld the warlord draws her sword, you have also been at the receiving end of it. At the same time, you have also tasted the forbidden fruit that is your lady’s nurturing side, not once but may a time, to foolishly come to the conclusion that she is incapable of emotions.

You have experienced it first-hand after all that even the formidable warlord can be dizzyingly soft if she so chooses to. By indulging you and keeping you close to her, your lady has granted you a key to the more arcane parts of the beautiful enigma that is Ambessa Medarda, and you are all too intent on solving her.

As your fingers swim through her strands, those vermillion lips spill forth a content sound, soft, soothing, and somewhat akin to a purr.

A warm smile touches your lips.

“You are very cute, my lady.”

If it has been anyone else’s mouth that has allowed the escape of such words, the warlord thinks, no she knows that it certainly would have rubbed her up the wrong way, but when it has been uttered by the sweet, delicate buds that are your lips, she is inclined to lock them in hers.

And so, she has kissed them swollen, sucked them rosy.

What lingers on your body now are beautiful hues of red and blue, a mosaic of the warlord’s ravenous desire.

Displayed copiously on no other than your flesh is her mastery, a beautiful canvas made more vibrantly charming with her excellent art. She admires the remnants of herself on your naked frame, eyes tracing a constellation of hickeys to the next while fingertips glide from one lilac bloom to another.

A miscellany of raspberry reds and plum purples that are positively reminiscent of nebulous stars scattered across the night sky. Similar to how every constellation comes with a fable, behind each vibrant cluster of colours is an echo of her touch.

An arm across your chest and a hand cupping your sex, the warlord has suckled the skin of your neck, teeth nibbling flesh and tongue savouring salt, as her fingers breach into your tight walls.

Pretty pink dusts your cheeks.

You have shyly confessed to her then that never have you housed anything inside you save her tongue. She feels a warm, painful squeeze inside her chest, along with regret and relief. Regret for all but abandoning you eight years ago. Relief for knowing that at the very least, she has discovered you on time that fateful night.

She holds you a little bit tighter.

There has been no doubt in the warlord’s mind that she possesses a greater stature than an average civilian, not to mention dainty little you, who have always been smaller than her, and whose size has only dwindled during your captivity in that godforsaken palace.

One of your thighs does not even amount to one of her arms. If her tongue has filled you to capacity, compared to the thick muscle, her hands have been on an entirely different calibre.

Those digits, long and ample in size, dexterous and meticulous in their movements, have stretched you to the point of painful agony. You whimper as soon as they are nestled snugly inside your folds, lithe fingers digging into your lady’s arm while fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“Ah h-hurts my lady. It hurts.”

“Shh I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you.”

Generously kind and unfailingly considerate, your lady has done her best to sway your attention by peppering sweet kisses along the length of your jaw. She noses your throat, sings sweet praises against your skin.

You are tight. So. Exquisitely. Tight.

It, however, does not deter her fingers from travelling deeper into the welcoming heat of your folds.

Wrapped up in the wonderfully silky heat, her mind very nearly goes numb, forehead falling onto your shoulder with a groan when you continue to smother her in a hot, dizzying embrace.

“You’re going to be the death of me girl.” Through gritted teeth, she coos breathlessly against your warm skin, kisses the soft baby hair coiling at the nape of your neck.

“Ngh- P-please.”

“I know, darling. I know. You must be overwhelmed. But I promise, it will feel so good.”

“I will make you feel so good.”

After a gentle suckle on your throat, there follows a delicate brush of lips against your sanguine cheek. Then, she pecks you on your dewy lips. Soft. Sugary.

“Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

You turn liquid butter beneath her silky smooth lips. Meanwhile, the gentle cadence of her voice makes flowers thrive in your ribcage and butterflies erupt in your tummy.

“Can you be a good girl for me, hmm?”

Although words fail you, your answer to your lady is plain as day, further evident in the way you rub your cheek against her like an eager little kitten.

Fingers buried between your folds, the warlord has simply kept you anchored in her strong arms, all the while painting your neck red with kisses and bites. She continues her gentle assault on your tender flesh, until accompanied by dewdrops trickling down your thighs, you are no longer struggling to take her.

Once you have adjusted to the intrusion and a need for stimulation demand that you move, you squeeze your thighs together in a poor attempt to bring some frictions. It is no surprise to find the hand between your legs preventing you from doing so.

Your pleasure essentially lies in your lady’s hand. The notion is so positively spine-tingling that little shivery sensations erupt inside your overcrowded cunt. Succulent walls pulsates delightfully around ample fingers.

In the end, with your endeavour proven futile, you have let out a frustrated little whine to which your lady’s only response has been a deep, alluring chuckle. It is rich, warm, and rolls straight down to the digits inside your core.

Helplessly, you gaze up at the warlord, juicy lips parted a crack and eyes shimmering with dew. It earns you a growl in return.

Those damn eyes.

Big, beautiful and brilliantly riveting.

It is quite a silly thought really but she wishes she can drown in them forever.

“If you keep looking at me like that my dearest little rabbit, my sanity might just slip,” Lips once again nuzzles the nook of your neck, their caresses surprisingly soft in contrast to the iron grip she has on your cunt. “and when it happens, I cannot promise you that I will be able to keep the beast within me at bay any longer.” You can almost feel her fingers twitching in harmony with the haywire throbs of your folds.

“Let it loose then.”

The little noise that fall from your lips has been no louder than a gentle breeze, but she has heard it all the same.

The warlord is capable of many things.

But, saying no to you? That, she cannot do.

“Let it loose, my lady.” So, when you reaffirm your statement along with a soft caress of your lips against her cheek, “I want all of you.” it is all she needs to start pumping into you with wild abandon, exploring you all over again with her fine fingers, tracing each bump and filling every crevice.

The initial thrust skyward has been so sudden, so brisk that it punches a breath out of your lungs. While dainty fingers scramble to find purchase around a generous wrist, those thick fingers that are buried deep inside you has rubbed against that sweet, delicious spot in a dizzying caress.

In and out and out and in, they go, seamless and relentless, setting an unforgiving pace into your moist, silky walls. Long gone is the painful agony, replaced entirely by sweet, toe-curling suffering that sends waves after waves of electricity crackling inside your veins.

Exquisite. Heavenly.

It renders you delirious.

The mirror that is conveniently located at the foot of the bed has offered the warlord the perfect view of your debauched state. Her fiery gaze, blown wide with desire, has hungrily raked over your frame before coming to seek your eyes in the mirror.

She looks wild, untamed, and the open hunger in her eyes drives you to clench around her. Head buzzing, chest heaving, a breathless little “uh” dribbles out of your lips when, accompanied by a ferocious growl, she buries herself knuckles deep into your core.

It is one thing to be aware of the differences between the two of you, but entirely another to be presented with the very vivid comparison. Your delicate frame is all but eclipsed by her massive stature. Your fingers does not even come close to closing around one of her wrist.

A flesh and bone rendition of a docile little rabbit caught beneath a mighty wolf’s claws.

You are so much smaller than her, this she is already aware. But, the fact that it requires considerable force just for her to be cradled within your soft, delicate folds, the warlord feels as if she is witnessing the union of two different species who are not meant to couple.

Body so lithe, skin so soft, heart so pure.

Silk and sand. Sun and moon. Light and dark.

“Do you feel me?” She does a particularly sharp thrust. “Hmm do you feel me inside you?”

Your back arches into her body with a gasp, and as your head falls back onto her chest, simultaneously baring your throat, her teeth close around the little fluttering pulse. Around her copious digits, your walls squeeze and spasm, which is already an acceptable answer to her question. Nonetheless, she is not satisfied because it is your voice that she craves.

Withdrawing her fingers until only the very tips are left buried between your swollen petals, “Answer me.” she whispers sharply into your ear before all but plunging deep into your core once more. It renders you breathless for only a moment before you manage a small squeak.

“Ngh- y-yes!”

“I can feel you inside me, Amby. S-so deep inside me.”

It has not been a lie. Not only is she nestled oh so deeply inside you, those long fingers are reaching into the entirely different part of your body. You can feel them at the entrance of your womb, kissing your cervix.

The warlord finds it absolutely adorable the way you hold her arm in your delicate little fingers as if your entire existence might just slip away if you dare let go. She will never let that happen. She promises you that.

And immediately, she keeps her words. Her steady arms have kept you glued to her body when your traitorous legs have all but crumpled beneath your trembling frame. Courtesy of her cruel ministrations, your limbs have been as steady as a leaf in the storm.

Her craving may have been fulfilled. She is yet to be satiated.

So, while her digits maintain their punishing pace inside you, the warlord has used your body to chase her own ecstasy, rubbing and grinding her powerful hips against yours. A litany of hot guttural groans and sweet praises are dropped directly into your ears, and you have eagerly greeted them with choked sobs and muffled whimpers.

Just the idea of the warlord using your body for her own pleasure has been enticing enough, but to have your fantasy actually become a reality, you feel as if your insides are being reduced to a gooey mess.

She feels so hot, so wet, so good.

“Lady Medarda- ngh so hot ah-”

Your scrumptious little mewl is rewarded with a sweet, sultry moan.

“Oh, my dear girl.”

It is soft, breathy, and the cause for your moist walls to clamp down hard onto her digits.

“Come with me.” When she whispers, her voice is thick, husky. “Come for me.”

Her fingers dance passionately inside your folds to the music that your lovely lips create as her palm grinds deliciously against that sweet bundle of nerves. Never one to deny your lady, you have gladly met her wishes. While juices copiously ooze out of your wreck of a hole, there is an explosion of silky heat on your hip, the warlord’s essence beginning as a gentle trickle, then running in rivulets down the side of your thigh.

Her nectar seeping into your skin.

You have been marked anew.

As thoroughly claimed as you are, exhaustion has left you to pass out in her arms shortly afterwards.

One arm twined around a dainty waist, you are now cradled close to her chest. Under her hand is the delicate, little hummingbird flutter of your heart, and the sweet swell of your breast.

Ambessa Medarda does not think she has a heart, but perhaps, the little rabbit who is currently cocooned in her embrace will one day fill in that hollow void.

And as she watches you sleepily turn in her arms, and tuck that adorable little face in the nook of her neck, something throbs painfully inside her chest.

“Mmm Amby.”

A gentle murmur. Soft lips press into her pulse. She feels pleasantly warm. The swift, staccato thumps against her ribcage remains consistent, becomes louder.

When a smile blooms on her lips, she drops it gently atop your head, whispers into your hair.

“You have already filled in that hollow void, haven’t you my darling little shepherd.”

[parvulous-writings]

Illness is a Consequence // McCree x F!Reader

Request:     Super new and ive read alot of your fics and your writings are so well written. This is my first req for Overwatch and I dunno if you done this yet but. Reader x A sick Mccree perhaps? Like he comes home after a long day and he starts to almost faint by the doorway what would the reader do? I just imagine her being caring, putting him under the blankets and just spoils him haha. She/her afab btw. No rush take your time 👉👈💖

Requested by: @fragolaaaaaaa​​

Summary: The request! 

Warnings: illness (It’s very generic though)

Words: 1.4K

Notes: Can I just say 🥺. This is an amazing request, I loved receiving it! It also fills me with joy to hear you’ve been reading a lot of my fics! I hope this lives up to your expectations!  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif 

You had been in the Overwatch complex in some sense alone for the past three days. Of course you weren’t really alone, you had many other members of the entire force also in the building with you, but the man you had the closest connection with wasn’t there. He was off on a mission- assigned to him and a few other select members of the force. Unfortunately you were not one included on that list. So, all you could do was wait for your beloved to return to you, hopefully unscathed. You were currently walking back from the canteen, a few brownies in one hand. You didn’t know what they put in those brownies, but damn were they good.  You turned down several corridors, chowing down on your little evening snack, heading towards the quarters that you and Jesse were recently given to share. 

It looked mostly like every other sleeping quarters in the complex- shared or otherwise- with monotonous grey walls and grey floors, though the pair of you were lucky enough to have a window that looked out over the training grounds of the complex. The room was also filled with stray belongings of yours and Jesse’s, some of you shoes, a couple of stray ponchos. It wasn’t messy, but at the same time it could be cleaner. Regardless of that, you still thought it was one of the most homely places you could be. You grabbed one of the discarded ponchos, not caring for it’s cleanliness, wrapping it around your shoulders to relax yourself, and to remind yourself of McCree’s embrace. It still smelt like him- slightly of cigar smoke, the whiskey that he always seemed to like and bang on about, and something woodier, which you assumed was the cologne he often wore. 

You were quite peaceful sitting there on the bed, your eyes wandering aimlessly over the buildings in the distance. You had just finished your brownies- unfortunately- and were starting to settle down to catch some rest, when you heard the door to your quarters slide open. You sat up again, looking curiously over to the source of the noise, to spot Jesse himself, the man you had missed the whole time of your separation, standing there and resting on the doorframe.  He looked up from under the brim of his hat, his eyes coming to rest on you as he gave you a tired smile, so you assumed his assignment had worn him out. “Hey, sugar.” He greeted, and though there was tiredness in his voice, there was something else there too, something that didn’t quite sound right. He seemed to notice your look of concern, and tried to silently wave it away, though when you didn’t look convinced he spoke.  “I’m fine, pumpkin, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He tried to assure you as he stepped inside. 

His legs seemed to give out under him, and you immediately leapt from your bed to tend to him. “Jesse!” You exclaimed as you moved, he was already trying to push himself up with a quiet groan.  “No, no, sugarcube, you get yourself back into bed,” He told you, trying to refuse your help as you assisted him back to his feet. “You were about t’ get some sleep, I can tell...” He mumbled, though his protests became weaker and weaker as you slowly guided him towards the bed.  “That doesn’t matter, Jesse. Not when you’re like this...” You told him quietly, taking off his hat and placing it on the bedside table. He collapsed down onto the covers, another quiet groan escaping his lips as he rubbed a hand over his face. 

You gently pushed his hand to the side, pressing the back of your own hand to his forehead- the skin was almost scalding to the touch. “Jesse, you’re burning up..” You tell him, concern lacing your tone. “Get those clothes off, we can get you rested up.” Jesse gave a quiet chuckle at your words.  “Oh, I thought you were thinkin’ another route there sugar..” He mused, before coughing a little bit. You shake your head at his slight childishness.  “No, Jesse. That’s not what I mean, and I think you know that.” You tell him, starting to help him take his poncho off.  “Ah, pity..” He joked, trying to make you smile despite the clear worry in your features. His joking didn’t work very well, though a small part of you did appreciate the effort he was making, despite his rather ill demeanour. 

“McCree, what did you even do on that damn mission? You never get sick,” You muttered, using his last name to emphasise to him how seriously you were taking this situation.  “Well.. It was nothin’ really... We went to Volskaya to try and-” You cut him off with a look.  “You didn’t wrap up properly, did you?” You asked him quite sternly, and he smiled a little sheepishly.  “Well, I tried, sugar- but I got a little too hot before we left our outpost, and-” “For god’s sake, Jesse!” You sighed in exasperation. “I tell you every single time we head out there together, how come you never listen?” You asked him, clearly very unimpressed. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t take my advice, and the one time I’m not there to remind you about it you get sick...”  “I ain’t sick, pumpkin... Just a little under the weather.” Jesse denied with a shake of his head.  “That’s why you collapsed, is it, honey?” You reply sarcastically, carefully pushing him back so that he laid down. McCree sighed softly.  “I just don’t want you worryin’-”  “I always worry about you, Jesse. That’s my job.” You say to him, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “You stay here for a moment, I’m going to go get you a washcloth in case you get a proper fever, alright? And do you want any food?” Jesse shook his head in response, before giving in to you, knowing full well that you would not give up trying to look after him, so he yielded. 

He sunk back into the bed, as you moved through to the bathroom, grabbing his washcloth for him, and a small bowl the pair of you kept there, filling it with cool, crisp water. You then moved through to the bedroom again, to see Jesse just about to fall into the clutches of slumber. He peered at you through half-closed eyes, giving you a tired smile. “You spoil me, sugar...” He whispered, starting to chuckle before it evolved into a round of coughs. You placed the bowl down quickly, helping him sit up a little bit. “Hold on, honey, I’ll get you some water, okay?” You said quietly, and he nodded silently. You quickly move back through to the bathroom again, grabbing the glass you usually used for rinsing your mouth out after brushing your teeth, filling it with cool water from the same tap. When you return Jesse had stopped coughing, but, still looked very tired, and rather pale. You move towards him, offering the drink which he happily took, bringing the water to his lips, having a few mouthfuls. 

He carefully put the glass on the bedside cabinet, and you pushed it further on to the surface, so that it didn’t fall off. He started to settle in again, and you got up to go and do a few chores, get a few things done whilst he slept, but a hand on your wrist kept you back. You look back in confusion, and there Jesse lay, giving you the most puppy-like eyes he could muster. “C’mon, sugar... Don’t go so soon.. Ain’t ya missed me?”  “Jesse, you are ill. One, I don’t want to get what you’ve clearly got, and two, things need to get done around here.”  “You can get ‘em done later.”  “Jesse-”  “No buts. You wanna look after me, right? Well, I’m asking for ya to stay. That’s how I want ya t’ look after me.” He told you firmly, and you chuckle softly.  “You’re as stubborn as a child, you know that, don’t you?”  “Yeah, but ya love me.” He chortled, pulling you back to him and onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you like you were some sort of beloved stuffed toy. He snuggled his face into the nape of your neck, a smile slowly slipping onto his face.  “Can I have some chocolate when I wake up?” He asks sweetly.  “Maybe, but don’t push your luck Jesse.” 

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McCree taglist: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​

[possiblypeachy]

Helloo, so i loooved your last sam drake fic. & I wanted to ask you if you could write a really angsty fanfic about sam with a younger female reader, like 20 years younger (she would be 23) ? I know its a huge age gap so if that makes you uncomfortable you can leave it out but make it hella angsty still (with a fluffy ending) ? thanks in advance ❤

btw im an infp too ;)

infps rise up!! 

thank you muchly for the request! i had to make some interesting google searches for this and i always count that as a win in my book!

y’know when your brain feel like a static TV? yeah, that happened to mine while writing this so i apologise in advance if this is in no way what you asked for :( HOWEVER i do hope you enjoy nonetheless! i do love sam; he’s just a little bastard :,)

warning: this details a heavy injury + a hospital trip so please don’t read on it that makes you feel horrible or anything! also, the reader is younger than same (as requested) but it’s not a like huge aspect of the plot.

if others like this too, feel free to request something from me! 

― ❊ ―

You had always been interested in the hidden corners of the world. For a species that boasted about being the most intelligent, humans knew so achingly little about the world in which they lived. So, when you decided adventure called to you more than any kind of degree could, you put out a few ads in a couple of places and a certain Drake wrote back, enlisting your help with… artefact recovery. You hadn’t expected so many gunfights or bruises or those dreaded mosquitos but you certainly didn’t regret the job, coming away with a few pirate-branded gold coins and a 40-something-year-old partner-in-crime.

You probably could’ve set up for life with those coins alone-- lived a quiet life in a suburb somewhere, joined a dating app and found the love of your life, adopted a puppy, maybe-- but when Sam had called you a month or so after your Madagascan escapade, that same excitement in his voice that you’d become so accustomed to, you didn’t even need a few days to consider before asking him when the next flight was.

Now, to say that going on this rodeo was a good idea could’ve been a lie; you were still young and sprightly, and many would beg (if they even got the chance) for you to reconsider-- oh, but you have such a long life ahead of you, why are you taking it for granted?

Screw them. You’d seen more beautiful things in the past year than they would in their entire lives. So what if you had a couple of scars and scrapes to prove it; it simply adds character.

Well… perhaps this particular scrape would change your perspective on that.

You and Sam had encountered one of those forsaken puzzle things; a series of statues and corresponding paintings behind them. Each held a dagger and held their hand out to shake, a conniving little smirk etched into the grey stone. You had been so achingly confident of the answer-- nothing had gone wrong so far and you were feeling chipper. So, when you called out to Sam that you’d solved it before him, that cocky little quirk to your lips that made him huff out a laugh and shake his head, you didn’t expect his face to drop so quickly, eyes darting from your smile to your abdomen.

There was a sudden, burning pain, and you lurched forwards toward the statue, placing one hand on its shoulder to keep yourself upright. Everything seemed to blur when you looked down, the jewelled dagger now withdrawing from your gut covered in blood. The statue looked as if it had never moved, if you discounted the bloodied weapon it held and the small pool that had accumulated at the base of it. Your free hand, shaking, came down to try to stop yourself from bleeding, fingers almost immediately red and warm. “Sam--” His name was coughed out, the tension it caused making you cry out in pain.

He had seen your smile drop, your eyes widen, the blood bloom across your shirt. He had watched the statue withdraw, that grin it held now dangerous. Oh, fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Sam had promised everyone-- he had promised you that nothing like this would happen. Of course he had fucked it. 

He was already there. He had been there immediately but, beyond the pain and shock, you hadn’t realised. “Holy shit! (Name)?” His hand came to your shoulder and, at the contact, you nearly crumpled, as if his touch had brought you back to reality. Unfortunately, along with that came the more acute realisation of how much fucking pain you were in.

“Oh, fuck! God--” You curled over and vomited. Fuck, it hurt. The movement made you grab at your wound more, muscles trying to tense but just searing with pain instead. Lifting your arm to wipe your mouth felt so much more difficult, lethargy already settling in it seemed.

Sam muttered something to himself, tucking his shoulder under yours and using his arm to help keep you propped up. “We’ll be alright-- you’ll be alright. We just have to get back to the car and--” he cut off, swearing, at least you thought; everything sounded like it was underwater-- muffled and slowed. 

You let your head drop a little, face contorted in pain with each step you took. This wasn’t supposed to happen-- this was never supposed to happen. These trips were meant to be all beautiful vistas and treasure. You didn’t mind the occasional gunfight and, while being punched square in the nose didn’t feel great, you’d let it happen more if only to walk into more of these preserved pieces of history all over the globe. But, this? Fuck this. You should’ve been more prepared.

“Everyone said--” you groaned again and, when you were finally able to muster the strength to look at Sam, he glanced down at you with such panic in his eyes that it almost made your chest churn more than your stomach, “They said this shit would be bad for me.” The laugh you gave was painful and you regretted it immediately, stumbling over your own feet when you tried to hold your abdomen-- as if that would provide some kind of relief. It did not. 

Sam furrowed his brows, moving you slightly to make sure you didn’t slip from his grip. “No, no-- it’s alright! You still got life in you.” He tried to laugh but it didn’t sound like him and that just made you spiral a little faster. “There are still places that are out there waiting for you, okay?” Sam’s voice was rushed, like he was torn between trying to comfort you and just trying to get you both the fuck out of here. 

The light of the outside was blinding, the sun bright and unyielding overhead. Sam fumbled with the keys in his back pocket and then there were the telltale beeps of a car being unlocked. The sound made him flinch but you were beyond that, wanting more than anything to just sleep. It was hard to focus on anything else, actually.

Sam bundled you into the back seat and you groaned at the way your body had to twist and curve into the backseat. Every breath hurt; it was like reliving the injury each time you inhaled. Your hand was blood-covered now but your shaking had died down. It took too much energy to shake-- Hell, it took way too much to even lift your eyelids again after each blink. 

When the driver’s door slammed, you jolted slightly-- like someone had dragged you out of the very early stages of sleep. “Sam,” you began, voice quiet; it was as though you were in another universe entirely, “are we gonna…” you trailed off, forgetting where you were. It was strange: you felt like the pain was subsiding. It was almost… peaceful. 

The car lurched into motion and you saw him glance at you through the rearview mirror. You thought he might’ve been saying something to you, his free hand reaching back to get your attention. Black encroached on your vision and your head lolled backwards briefly but you pulled it forward again soon after as though it were attached to some kind of bungee rope. Is this what dying felt like? 

Maybe you were okay with this. It was calm-- quiet, even. It was almost like the pain had become an afterthought-- a dull thrum in your abdomen. You would miss this, though: the adventures. You would miss the fact that everything seemed more colourful in other countries. You would miss the sweet tang of sea air and how free you felt on the open sea. Despite the blur in your vision, you tried to focus on Sam and his helpless mumbling. Tears welled in your eyes. God, you would miss him too. 

The next time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed.

---

A steady beeping woke you up. That and a horrible white light beating against your eyelids. You tried to groan but even that was difficult with how… disused your voice felt. A chair creaked to your right and then--

“(Name)?” 

It was him.

“Sam…” Trying to sit up was like an instinct but a hand came to your shoulder to keep you down. It was then that you finally opened your eyes, pupils struggling against the light. “Did you find the treasure?”

He breathed out a laugh-- almost like relief. “If you count shitty hospital coffee and the most uncomfortable chair ever as treasure, then yes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hospital?” The strain on your voice made you cough. This was a bad reflex on your part. An ache flared up again in your lower stomach, and your arm flew there to support the injury. Now, everything was starting to come back. “Ah, shit. I remember. God.”

Beside you, his lips pursed. “Yeah. Almost got bested by a statue, honey.”

You gave him a look and he smiled. Despite his words, the normalcy of it all was comforting. “I may be bed-ridden but I’ll still hit you, old man.” There it was: that smile of yours. He struggled to even feign offence with how relieved he felt at seeing it. In fact, if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he might’ve welled up a little. “Sam?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He rubbed his face before leaning onto your bed. “I was just worried, is all.”

He looked like he had done more than worried; the dark around his eyes told you of that. Quiet fell over you for a few moments and Sam took to rubbing your leg over the array of hospital blankets piled atop you. It was nice, comforting, and for a time you just allowed yourself to be. 

That was until he swallowed loudly-- nervously-- and withdrew his hand. “(Name), I, uh--” he cleared his throat-- not because he needed to but just so he could have a couple more seconds to think about what he was going to say, “I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I know that you’d disagree, but I’m not sure you should--”

You groaned as you shifted yourself up the bed, cutting him off. You knew what he was going to say: that you shouldn’t come on the next trip with him. That would turn into only the occasional call between the two of you, asking about his most recent escapades-- if had any spots open on the crew next time, to which he would decline. Then, there would only be texts-- a barren waste of white space between messages and timestamps that began to highlight the weeks and months between each text. “Don’t, Sam.” His brows furrowed and you pointed a finger at him, accusing. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m not going to listen to you.”

He pursed his lips briefly then pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “You could’ve died. You can’t just fuckin’ die--” he leant forward so his ranting wouldn’t disturb any other hospital dwellers, “You can’t die yet; you’re-- what?-- twenty-three?”

“Oh, fuck off, Sam! I’m not a child; I can handle myself!”

In one gesture towards your injury, he had messed up. “Obviously fuckin’ not!”

Silence. Your mouth was agape and he flinched back immediately. For how many times people told Sam to think before he spoke, he hadn’t seemed to have learnt. When the words settled in, you leant away from him, back into the cushions behind you. “I think you should go.”

He blinked once. And, then again. “What?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “Get out. I’ll call a nurse if i need help since I obviously can’t look after myself--”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, (Name)--”

“How did you fucking mean it then, Sam?” He stood from the chair and it creaked-- the only noise in the room. You didn’t even want to give him the chance to give an excuse. “Or, am I too much of a child to understand what you mean?” In the middle of his pacing, he turned to face you, simply staring despite your ceaseless ranting. “Sorry that I’m such a huge fucking inconvenience to you! It’s not like the same kind of shit has ever happened to you or anything, huh?” He watched as your eyes began to well, face etched with frustration and betrayal, words spat out of your mouth like they put a bad taste there.

He had to cut you off or else you would carry on; you shouldn’t feel like this right after… everything that happened. God, he was such a dick. He shouldn’t have brought this up-- not now at least-- and now look at you: almost crying because of him in a hospital bed thank to stab wound that you got because of him and-- “I don’t want you to get hurt again because I fuckin’ care about you, (Name), okay?” It was his turn to rant now and your turn to stare at him. “And-- and, I have no idea what I would do with myself if you-- if you had fuckin’--” the noise he made was a mix between a sigh and growl, like he was annoyed at himself, then he leant against the end of your bed. A few moments passed; you didn’t know if you were supposed to say something to him during this or not but all you could fathom doing was to just stare at him, dumbfounded. Then, he breathed out a simple: “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering away from him briefly. Then, you huffed out a laugh-- a terrible mix of amusement and disbelief. “Glad you can recognise it, Sam.” He blinked at you, then shook his head; that certainly wasn’t the response he expected. Something more biting-- venomous--perhaps, but not that. You gestured back to the seat that he had pulled up beside you and, with some degree of caution, he sat down again. You held out a hand and he took it, rubbing a thumb over the underside of it, touch light on your skin. “You can’t prove that this isn’t the painkillers speaking but,” it hurt to lean closer to him but you thought he was worth it-- even with the deer-in-headlights look he had, “I care about you too.”

It was then that he smiled-- grinned, even-- and you finally heard him laugh again. “Oh, I’m definitely holding that against you, (Name).”

“Will you hold this against me, too?” You pulled your hand away from his, only to place it on his face instead, thumb tracing a line over his cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips, obviously unsure on if he should close the gap, that worry still bubbling in his lower stomach that he was daydreaming again. So, you did instead, the ache in your gut less pressing than your want to kiss him. It was short but to say it didn’t make your heart soar and a faint colour flush Sam’s ears would be a lie. You hand stayed there after, fingers reluctant to move away-- to lose him; the thought scratched at the back of your mind.

He let out a sigh of relief-- a little ‘hoo’ noise coming with it. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted that.”

[bts-is-my-life-as-always]

Jimin scenario to fighting with you and breaking up.

(Credits to gif owners) 

So I really don’t know why but writing for chimchim is soo hard, it’s always chimmy maybe it’s cause he’s such a tiny little puppy. I don’t wanna hurt his ass, but I have to write this so here goes nothing. Anyways enjoy~~~ 

 You always seemed to find a way to twist things, somehow you always made him feel bad, honestly you were never the jealous type before you started to date jimin. He was perfect, even his flaws were loved by many, but you, you compared to him was nothing, so it was inevitable that a situation like this would occur. You were happily having dinner with your boyfriend, you knew how much he still had feelings for his ex, it was the classic love story, a boy falls in love with a girl who only wants him for his fame, and then when she was done, she broke him to millions of pieces and that’s where you picked him back up, you knew the reason he only said yes was because he needed a rebound, with that feeling still in mind, when he broke into a giant smile at the sight of his ex, it made you sick to your stomach.

You had been sitting there for the past 4 hours, listening to them reminisce about their past, and how happy they used to be, you tried so hard to ignore the feeling of hurt, after the 2 hour mark, you didn’t even exist to them, you took your mind off of them and scrolled through your phone, your best friend wanted to see you, he was in korea, you lit up with a smile, “Hey chim, I have to go, my friends in korea, I’ll catch you later” He just sat there and nodded, not sparing you a single glance, while his ex just smirked at you, as if to say ‘he’s still all over me’ 

 You ran as fast as you could toward your best friend, “KIM JOON!” You yelled his name, with a bright smile on your face, you ran up and hugged him, “Hey, y/n I can’t breath, let go dude, I’ve missed you too” 

“Oh sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve last seen you” You walked to a nearby cafe, while he told you about his boyfriend, and how the two of them would be getting married soon. 

“So, hows jimin?” Your friend questioned, reminding you of the past few hours, you frowned for a split second, and then smiled “He’s doing great, I think” your friend raised his eyebrows in question. “What do you mean you think, weren’t you dating him?” You looked down, not knowing what to say or do, a few sheds of tears dropped. “I don’t know honestly, I don’t even feel like his girlfriend anymore, I don’t know what to do” “Shh.. come here” your friend tucked you into a hug, he didn’t know what to do, but all he knew was you had to talk to jimin and sort this out, “Just try talking to him, and if he loves you, he’ll truly care about what you have to say” At that you suddenly stood up, “You know what, your right, we’re dating and I can’t be afraid to speak to him, thanks joon” 

 You beamed him a smile and walked to your shared apartment, you waited and waited, it seemed so long, but at last at 5 in the morning he decided to show up. “Jimin? God your home so late” you looked at him worried, you walked closer to him, the stench of the alcohol was coming through the roof, 

“Jesus, jimin how much did you drink?” He didn’t answer, you followed him to your shared bedroom,

 “Jimin, can we talk?”

 “Not right now, I’m tired” You grabbed his arms, determined to talk to him today, “Jimin,” he shoved you off, 

 “I said not now, what do you not get about not now” You closed your eyes and nodded, maybe after he washes. It took him 30 minuets to wash up and come out, 

 “Jimin, can we talk now?”

 “Gosh, y/n your so naggy today, what do you want?” You looked at him, in disbelief,

 “Is trying to talk to my boyfriend that bad?”

 “Do you want to know what I liked about dating yuna, she was never this needy and naggy, she was never this noisy” You looked at him, now sure that you were just his rebound, no, now you knew for sure that you meant nothing to him, when he said yes, it was just to fill his void and empty yours. 

 “Jimin, I...I just wanted to talk, and now all the questions I had in mind, I’ve found the answers to, I won’t bother you anymore” He still didn’t know what you were talking about until he saw your tear filled eyes, 

 “Oh come on babe, don’t cry, come here” he stood to hug you, you took a step back each time he came close to you, 

 “Don’t touch me, what do I even mean to you? I’m nothing but a rebound, nothing”

“Y/n that’s not what I meant, please I’m sorry” 

“Jimin.... let’s stop, I won’t bother you anymore, and you can go back to the yuna that you love so much” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, you know me and her ended ages ago”

“Well it surely didn’t seem like it, jimin, you can’t keep me trapped when you still have feelings for her, it’s not fair on me” You shoved past him, grabbing your jacket and your car keys and bag, you walked out of the house, you drove for almost an hour, reaching the airport, you quickly texted your best friend.

“Joon..... I’ll see you back in england, I can’t do this anymore. See you soon” “Y/n? What happened” You didn’t respond, you brought a ticket, and waited, anything to get over him, anything would do. It had been almost 2 years since you left jimins life forever, the day he received a call from best friend to say you had told him something really stupid, he was afraid. 

2 years prior~ 

“Hey, this is y/n’s friend joon, I just received a text from y/n saying something about seeing me in england, did something happen between the two of you?” 

“We had a little fight, she said she was gonna take the plane to England right? Do you know which airport?” 

“Well y/n only knows the incheon airport, so she’s probably there” 

“I’ll go find her, don’t worry too much, I’ll make sure she’s okay” 

“Alright tell me how it goes,” Before you got on the plane, it didn’t feel right, your friend probably already told jimin knowing him, so you decided to just leave the ticket and your car, but instead take the bus down to busan, when he arrived at the airport it was more crowded than usual, that’s when he saw the big screen that announced a plane crash, that’s when he could hear all the cries and all the screams from relatives of the people on the plane, he screen read 

 ~all families of passengers that took the 6:30 plane heading towards England, London, there was a sudden storm, that caused the whole plane to crash into the sea, we are sorry to announce that all the names of the passengers on screen, have passed away.~ 

He read it over and over again, grabbed a guard and questioned them, he searched for your name, and it was on there, his heart sank, the last memory of you was how lonely you looked and how he made you cry. 

End of flashback~ 

Of course you saw the news but you didn’t tell anyone, apart from your family, even your best friend still believed you passed away, you heard from your mother that he was married and they were thinking about adopting kids, you stayed hidden, needing time to heal and forget, in that time, you worked on singing, by now in busan you were known for singing, you heard that big hit was recruiting, feeling like you needed to now come forward and tell everyone the truth, you went for the audition, When you got to the venue, hundreds and thousands perhaps millions of girls and guys with the same dream as you stood outside, you were auditioning for a new unisex group of 4 people, there was a very slim to no chance of getting through, but you kept hoping. When it got to your turn, you sang stigma, stigma was your favorite song, it got you through the toughest times, and then danced to the ark the light, you thought dancing to a bts song would be too classic and decided on the second best, (btw I love the arks the light, I’m so sad they disbanded anyways continuing with the story) they seemed a little startled, you knew you were probably one of the only ones that didn’t dance to bts. 

“Do you know how to dance to our top artist bts? “ 

“Yes” you said proudly 

“Then why did you choose this song to dance to?” 

“Because I knew everyone else would dance to bts, and I thought you wanted someone that was more unique, and I like this song a lot” They all nodded their head in approval, you knew even before they called you, that you were getting signed. 

 “Miss Y/L/N you have automatically passed all of our auditions, you will be the first female for our group hope, congratulations” 

“Really!” You exclaimed, 

“thank you so much” 

“You’ll have to be here by 10 am today, and make sure you bring your passport and things” 

“Okay thank you” You showed up infront of the company building, you walked into a room of all the producers and people with a hidden importance. You signed the contract and you would start training with the other members in a weeks time, you would share a whole home with them starting in 4 days. 

 Time skip~ 

You had settled in, and your group members were amazing, they all loved you and you loved them, it was inevitable soon you would run into bts, you were practicing your debut choreography, when your dance instructor came in and said 

“So, your sunbaes, bts will be visiting today, just to say hello and get used to the new family, is that okay?” You all said in unison 

“Yes” except you, you knew that they all knew you, and they all be very upset at you. Sure enough as soon as they walked in they all looked at everyone and then you and almost chocked to death, 

 “Y/n? Is that you? Wtf we thought jimin said you passed away?” Exclaimed Hoseok They all looked at you questioningly, Just then jimin walks in, he looked so bad, like he hadn’t seen daylight in the past 2 years, your heart started to clench around itself, he looked up at you and teared up, he slowly walked towards you 

“Y/n? Are you y/n?” You looked up at him, slightly pushing him off of you, you stepped back towards the rest of your members You nudged them to say their hellos, so you didn’t have to explain to them about what happened, Jimin stares at you, and so did everyone, so you had no choice but to explain.

“Do you have any idea, how much I’ve resented myself, how much I’ve hated myself, for loosing you” You looked down 

“No, I don’t, you didn’t care when I was alive, so I didn’t see why you would when I’m gone” 

“Y/n..... i was drunk” 

“You were drunk and not in love, stop trying to make yourself the victim, we ended things, I didn’t have to tell you anything” 

“Can you guys leave the two of us for a bit, I have personal things to talk about”

“No it’s fine, don’t leave us, we need to practice anyways, sorry jimin, our debut stage is near, I can’t loose anymore time” With that you stood up, with your members right behind you, you started the music and joined with the rest of your group, this choreography had a lot of touching, jimin standing there dumbfounded, wondering when you got so good at dancing, and why you were so close with the guys, he waited for you, he was going to wait his whole life for you, waiting a few hours was nothing 

“Okay let’s take a break” the leader said, You went to grab water, but jimin already had you covered, wiping your sweat away, 

“You dance better than I do” You looked at him, 

“Thank you...... jimin why are you still here? You should go and practice with bts, you guys have a comeback don’t you?” 

He sighed. 

“Did you know, that today would’ve been your 2 year anniversary, this morning i woke up, from a dream, of when you still smiled with me, when you were still there next to me, I hated myself for not going after you that morning, I’ve had countless nightmares, where I relive the moment I saw your name on that screen, and is it that bad of me to want to be by your side when I see you right here, when the past 2 years seemed like hell, but your here now, I’m still not sure if this is a dream or not, I’ve begged to wake from this nightmare for 2 years, am I that bad, for wanting to be with you, just for a bit?” 

“Im not saying your bad, I’m just telling you to go back, to go back to when you didn’t care, I’m not used to this, chim, I mean jimin oppa, please, I’m trying to forget the past, I’m trying to forget you, can’t you just pretend I’m not here” 

His eyebrows scrunched up, you hated when he did that, it created wrinkles and you knew how much he cared about that, and as you travelled down his face, he was crying, you looked at him shocked. 

“Y/n, you don’t need to love me, that’s not what I want, I’m just so happy, that your still alive, please don’t tell me to think that your dead again, I can’t, I won’t, Not this time, I won’t last, I just really missed you, the amount of nights I’d cry into anything that indicated that you were once next to me, I just, can’t we go back to what we were before, how you’d Just cradle me and how you’d whisper random things anything, any random thing, that would make me smile” 

There were now tears in your eyes, remembering the times that he made you so truly happy, the times he’d smile, you thought to yourself 

‘why are we like this? What made us part so much?’ You stepped closer to him, you hugged him, and whispered 

“I’m sorry”. 

Even now, many months later, he still had nightmares, of you not being there, he would wake up, panting, crying, screaming sometimes, and if you weren’t next to him in bed, it was so bad, he would search the house frantically for you, 

 “Jesus, jimin you scared me” you turned around worried. 

 “What’s wrong, did you have that nightmare again?” 

“Please tell me your here, tell me your still here, tell me your not just my imagination” You removed the hair that was sticking onto his forehead, you caressed his cheeks, and moved your thumb side to side to clear his cheeks of tears. 

 “I’m still here, and I’m not your imagination” He would pull you into a hug or more like a protective stance to reassure him that your actually there. 

“Don’t leave me, I was so lonely, I didn’t have anyone to comfort me like you do, please I’ll be better, I won’t ever let you feel lonely, ever again” 

“Hmm” 

you sighed into his neck, you took his hands and led him back to bed, so he could peacefully sleep in the embrace, when his breathing become slow and steady you whispered. 

“I love you, have sweet dreams my prince” 

 So this is a first, leaving the ending speech to the reader, I personally really like this one and Hoseok’s one, hope you enjoyed it just as much as I did And request away~~~ Byeeee.

[pandatypewriter]

So dumb, so precious: Daehyun (Le Noir AU)

OMG THIS IS SO LATE! I AM SO SOOOOORRRRYYYYYYY!!! I am so behind in everything like UHG. Behind in school, behind in fees, behind in life, dear God someone help me TT_TT I’m so sorry this took so long. Finals week just came and slapped me across the face, but I am still deeply sorry patient Nonnie! Anyways on a happy not I just wanna give a shout out to a friend of mine lets_love_bap instagram account. If you love BAP and funny/cute things be sure to check her instagram out. Anyways I have to give my soul back to studying so peace! Sorry Nonnie that this wasn’t exactly what you wanted! I hope you forgive me for being a pervert.....

I really love your writings! + you're the only one with requests open sob (which I'm really grateful for btw♡). Anyways, another Daehyun request for you! In which he gets into a fist fight because he defended y/n and tries to hide it from her (she wasn't present) but she still finds out from whom you want. A little angsty + fluff(?) Thank you!♡

WARNING: SLIGHT SEXY CONTENT

“Aiiish!” Daehyun let out a hiss as Youngjae dabbed his cut knuckles with a cotton balls soaked in isopropyl alcohol. “Can’t you do it gently?” Daehyun whined, attempting to reel his hand back from Youngjae’s iron grip.

“You’re lucky I’m doing this for you in the first place,” Youngjae sneered, tossing the cotton ball in the trash and grabbing some gauze. “Who told you to be an idiot and get into a fist fight? Huh?” Youngjae’s eyes went wide in a mocking manner before rolling his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault those assholes were-”

“Hi boys,” Youngjae and Daehyun nearly jumped from their seat as you leaned on the couch, a small chuckle escaping your lips at their startled reaction. “What do guys got there?”

“I-It’s nothing!” Daehyun awkwardly chuckled, hiding his injured hand behind his back. He didn’t want you to find out that he got into a fight with some guys at a club. It wasn’t like you would be mad….persay. But worried. Definitely worried.You would scold him, just as Youngjae did, and then the hurt and worry would settle in your eyes. That was the last thing he ever wanted to see in his life.

You cocked an eyebrow, suspicious of his reaction, then eyed Youngjae who immediately diverted his eye contact with you. “Right~.” You let a chuckle before going around to the other side of the couch.

“So what brings you here? You usually don’t come over to HQ?” Youngjae raised an eyebrow at your sudden surprise visit. The location of BAP’s HQ was under high secrecy with only the members and you knowing its exact whereabouts. You didn’t often visit, not wanting to draw attention to the secret headquarters masquerading as a rundown car repair shop. The boys usually visited you at Le Noir anyways.

“Nothing special. Just got this and I thought about you guys.” You smirked.

“I’m really hoping you’re referring to something either lacy, leathery, or easily tearable.” Daehyun flashed you a sly cocky grin, leaning in closer and placing a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Why would I need any of those when I can just wear nothing at all. Saves an awful lot of money.” A coy smirk lacing your lips. Dear God, how Daehyun wished to just pounce on you right now and ravish your body. His lips marking every part of your body, your voice screaming his name, your body trembling under his-

“Can y’all just get a room?” Youngjae sneered, rolling his eyes and getting up from the couch.

“Aww do you feel left out, Youngjae?” You cocked an eyebrow, wanting to tease the boy. “Do you want me to comfort you?”

“NO!” The two of them said in unision, Youngjae’s face a crimson red while Daehyun’s eyebrows were furrowed. You couldn’t help but burst out in laughter at their reaction. It was always so interesting to push their buttons.

“So what brings you here, princess?” Daehyun placed his arm around your shoulder as you pulled out the package you wanted to give them. Both Daehyun’s and Youngjae’s eyes went wide with joy as the pristine white cake box was placed on top of the table. They never felt so happy in their life….well except when they first met you of course.

“One of my girls grandmothers baked this for me, but I’m not a big fan of sweets so-” Before you could even unveil the homemade strawberry cheesecake from the box, Daehyun had already pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You are the best, princess!” He cheered.

“Ah-ah!” You removed yourself from his embrace, snatching the cake away along the way. “What have I said about calling me princess?” Daehyun stared at you with puppy eyes at your refusal to feed him cake. “Here Youngjae.” You flashed your professional smile as you handed Youngjae a slice.

“Hey, I thought you and I were together. Not you and Youngjae.” Daehyun playfully glared, but not daring to reach out for the cheesecake, revealing his injury.

“Who knows. Youngjae is a very attractive.” You teased, watching as Daehyun’s plump lips formed into a pout.

“I knew you had good taste, Fortuna,” Youngjae smirked, but then his cocky grin transformed into childlike glee as he had a bite of the cake. “If you ever get tired of this guy’s shenanigans, give me a call.”

“Will do,” You smiled, Daehyun shooting Youngjae a glare as he scooted closer to you. “But I think I can handle him pretty well.” You placed your head on Daehyun’s shoulder, soothing the boy’s seething jealousy.

“Suit yourself,” Youngjae shrugged, too enraptured in the cheesecake to shoot a sassy remark….at least in that second. “Just make sure he doesn’t get into anymore fist fights at clubs. I’m tired of being his nurse.” Youngjae sighed then suddenly froze, realizing the words that spilled out of his mouth.

Daehyun stared at his best friend wide eyed. He wanted to kill him. Youngjae had literally one job. Not to tell you about his fight. And what did he just do? Tell you about his fight. Daehyun slowly turned his head to see your expression, hoping that you weren’t mad. Or worse disappointed.

You looked at Youngjae, stunned at his words. It wasn’t that you expected Daehyun to be a sweet little angel and not get a little violent. He was a gangster. You owned a bar for gangsters and mobsters. The last thing you expected was for him to be ‘innocent.’ No, what made you disappointed was that the last time Daehyun had a fist fight at a bar was when he was drunk off his ass and going through an emotional crisis. At the time he looked so broken. So lifeless. A hollow shell of the confident, playful, yet loving person he was. You thought he had moved on, but perhaps he hadn’t. If so, then he should have told you, not go vent his pain through alcohol and reckless fights.

“Uh you know what, I’m just gonna go…” Youngjae dashed out of the room before Daehyun decided to murder him.

Daehyun let out a small growl, mumbling curses at Youngjae. He then turned at you and grabbed your hands with pleading eyes. “Y/N….”

You let out a sigh, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You set the cheesecake down. “Is that why you got these?” You turned Daehyun’s hands around to reveal the bruised and cut knuckles. You let out another sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose. Honestly you were hurt and upset. But the two of you were adults there was no need to throw a hissy fit, though you so desperately wanted to. “Daehyun, if you were upset about something why didn’t talk to someone? Even if you couldn’t talked to me or something, you could have talked to Youngjae or Himchan.”

“N-No it’s not what you’re thinking!” He quickly gripped your shoulders. He knew exactly what you were talking about. The time where he felt his whole world was crashing before him. When he felt hopeless, lost, and all he could do was self-destruct. He knew the damage he was causing for the team and to you. He thought that the only way he could get out of this conundrum was to remain broken, but you wouldn’t allow it. You forced the pieces back in place no matter how much he tried to push you away.

“Then what Daehyun?” You looked up at him and he could feel his heart shatter. There were no tears in your eyes, no frown on your face. Just a look of confusion, hurt, and disappointment that seem to stab him deeper than any knife wound he received.

“It was just….” He let a groan and scratched his head rapidly. “Some young punks were talking some crap about you and I just kinda lost my temper.” He let out a sigh, feeling like he was some immature kid. You were so mature, so put together that he felt like you needed to be with a man who had his shit together. Not him. Not some emotional driven nut.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“I was just walking by one of the clubs and hearing some punks saying some pretty….explicit things about you,” Daehyun could feel the anger rise as he clenched his fist, remembering the dirty words that were spewing out of their mouth. “The hell I’d let them talk about you like some cheap who-Aish!” Daehyun’s went wide, his hand gripping his cheek where you pinched him.

“You’re so dumb,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “But so precious,” You cupped Daehyun’s cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. His plump lips against yours moving with yours in perfect sync, his gentle hands roaming your body.  You separated from the boy for a moment, causing a small whine to escape his lips. “Next time you think about getting into a fight because of me. Don’t.”

“And let them say those things about you? Now then what kind of gentleman would I be?” A smirk pasted itself on his lips as you scoffed.

“Let them talk,” You shot his sly smirk in return, gently pushing him down on the couch so you could straddle his waist. Daehyunnie was liking where this was going. Him and Daehyun junior. “After all,” You gently grabbed his injured hand, softly grazing your lips against his knuckles and flicking your tongue against the cuts. Daehyun could feel his heart racing, his pants tightening. If you kept teasing him like this he was going to make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk for at least 4 months. “You’re the only one that is going to experience it,” You took his hands and led them down your curves till they reached your bum. “So, tell me exactly what they were saying?”

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