#contorted beep

[nicothedestroyer]

Clean

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie goes zero to sixty when he wakes up. He expects to be dead, so the strong smell of disinfectant and boiled hospital food comes as a shock that, at first, he doesn’t believe.

But then the irregular bleating of the heart monitor next to him starts to sink in, the beeps sounding way too fucking fast and that stresses Eddie out even more. He tries to escape out of the bed, gets tangled in tubes and wires, agony burning up his side and through his stomach, practically falls out of the bed when his own legs won’t hold him.

The floor is rock solid and stone cold, and that just ratchets Eddie’s panic further, because now he’s stuck and he can’t escape and there are people – people he doesn't know – touching him, all talking all over each other and it’s so much, too much to handle, the overload -

“Holy shit kid,” a voice Eddie would recognize anywhere, mostly because he’s been warned by that voice so many times about getting caught dealing and carrying and, “Jesus, give him some room a second.”

“I thought you were dead,” Eddie rasps out, voice totally fucked.

“Yeah, well, thought the same about you kid,” Hopper answers, stoic and honest as always.

“I can’t stay here,” Eddie finds his hands twisted up in the material of Hoppers jacket.

Hopper nods, knowingly, “back into bed, give me half an hour.”

Eddie agrees, holds onto that, because the lights are too bright and the noises are all so fucking loud and even the sound of his own breathing is annoying.

“Kid,” Hopper raps on the door frame, and every fucking pair of eyes in the room swivels to him because literally everyone rammed into Max’s room is a kid to Hopper. He narrows it down a bit, looking at Steve, “Munson’s awake.”

Half the people in the room shoot up, Dustin’s fastest despite his fucked up ankle, so Hopper sticks an arm out, wraps him up, stops him even though the kid is screeching and wriggling in his hold, “just Steve, the rest of you stay here.”

There’s a roomful of complaints, but something in Hoppers tone must relay the urgency, because they do obey in the end.

“So, he needs somewhere to go.”

Hopper nods down at Steve, “Owen’s can wrangle it, but it’s got to be somewhere known, somewhere that has the space, somewhere...private.”

Steve gets what Hopper’s laying down, his place is the only place that makes any sense, “yeah, of course.”

Because there’s no question.

Eddie limps across the threshold, most of his weight supported on Steve’s shoulders. They take one look at the mountain of stairs and divert straight to the couch. Steve can see that Eddie’s in pain, that he’s restless, that he can’t settle, “what can I do?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Feel like there’s...fire ants or something, crawling all over, under my skin.”

Steve tuts. Not having a suggestion for that. Eddie’s face contorts again and he’s sweating. The nurse was very fucking clear about the pain meds, and Eddie can’t have any more for another couple of hours at the earliest. Steve doesn’t state that out loud; he’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t need reminding.

He comes back with a cool sodden towel, feeling helpless, but the second it hits Eddie’s skin Eddie practically screeches and they know that isn’t the answer, so Steve throws it in the laundry.

“I don’t know what to say man, shower? Like, a hot one?”

“Dressings,” Eddie bites back, white knuckled and almost writhing now on the couch.

“Maybe...we should take you back, maybe they can-”

“No. Fuck no,” Eddie’s words bitten out, panicked.

“Okay okay,” Steve surrenders, palms up flat, “what then?”

Eddie’s eyes flick over the back of the couch, he can’t see the stairs from there, there’s a wall in the way, but his expression looks pained just at the thought, “I’ll try anything once.” He tries to make a joke of it, tries to make out that he’s okay, but he’s clearly in fucking agony and Steve has no idea what to do for him so he agrees readily.

Making it up the stairs takes them fully half an hour, Eddie having to wait, panting, on every single step. Steve’s never felt so helpless in his life (excluding that one time Max floated in the cemetery), it’s torture watching Eddie suffer, watching him try and keep in all the pained noises, only to fail miserably.

He manages a half hearted joke about King Steve giving him a sponge bath when they make it to the turn near the top, the wider step on the corner giving Eddie somewhere safe and secure to lean.

Steve doesn’t laugh, “how are you feeling now?”

Eddie swallows, throat clicking dry, “it’s worse. It’s like there’s...like something's under there, moving around,” Eddie draws in a hissed breath, face crumpling, “hurts. So fucking much.”

Steve doesn’t even know what to say to that, so they get moving, and those final four steps are worse than all the others combined. They shuffle through Steve’s bedroom and into the bathroom, and when Steve clicks on the light Eddie makes an agonized noise and Steve clicks it off again immediately.

“S’bright,” Eddie mutters, squinting at the floor, greasy, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He looks ill. Washed out. No, gray. He looks like he’s gone gray in the dim light coming through the small bathroom window.

“Okay, okay, no problem,” so Steve turns to get the water going, trying to figure out how the fuck they’re going to do this considering Eddie looks exhausted and half dead already. He hears Eddie make a noise, there's a soft thump, and Steve turns back, concerned.

Eddie’s gone.

He’s just...gone.

His clothes are in a heap on the floor, bloody dressings mixed in, and Steve yells, hopping backward and nearly dragging down the shower curtain, when the pile shifts. Wings emerge. Tails.

Steve recognizes it instantly. It’s a fucking demobat.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck,” Steve backs away, edges his way through the door, thinking of the nail bat in the boot of his car. He usually brings it everywhere with him, when he can, but he was too concerned with getting Eddie into the house to think of it.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the thing as it flops around, trapped in Eddie’s clothes. Steve darts the rest of the way, scouring his room for a weapon and giving up fast; the kitchen, a knife; that would be easiest.

Steve runs for it, closing his bedroom door tight so the thing can’t escape. He runs down the stairs, grabs the biggest knife in the block and then takes the stairs two at a time on the way back up.

Steve opens his bedroom door cautiously, point of the knife sliding through the gap, just in case the thing is flapping around in his bedroom. It’s not, it appears safe.

But Steve knows the danger, he was nearly killed by just one of those things so he isn’t taking any chances. Steve waits a second with the door open...he realizes he can hear it. It’s not making the horrible high pitched screech that he’s used to, it sounds more like...well, it sounds like a whimper. It actually sounds kind of pathetic.

Steve creeps closer, only to find the demobat hopelessly tangled in Eddie’s clothes, it’s struggling only making it worse. Steve stands for a moment, staring. Eddie’s gone...and now that little creature is in Eddie’s clothes.

Eddie. Shit, Steve has a terrible feeling about this, “Eddie?”

Steve creeps a little closer, still pointing with the knife, “Eddie, man, if that’s you, you’ve got to give me something here,” Steve begs desperately. There’s still no response, “oh fuck me, I’m loosing my godamn mind.”

Steve kneels, moving a little closer, “Eddie?”

The Demobat’s strange, worm like head appears from under Eddie’s shirt and sort of...mewls. It’s pathetic, really. The open, rounded mouth in filled with rows of tiny, razor sharp teeth. It’s got four eyes, two above the mouth, and two more set behind that, and they all blink in turn, strange slits opening and closing slowly.

It makes another little noise. “Okay. Okay, lets, try...oh man I am so dumb. Dustin’s never going to let me live this down,” Steve slowly offers the back of his hand to the thing, reasoning that if it bites him, the wound won’t be too debilitating than if he looses a finger or something equally terrible. He waits, watching, poised to drag his hand back at the first sign of danger. He doesn’t need too though, because the demobat potentially formerly known as Eddie, snakes out a too long, thin black tongue, and licks a sticky smear on the back of Steve’s hand.

And that’s all. It sits still, staring up at Steve will all four of it’s beady black eyes, watching expectantly.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going to trust you. But if you bite me I swear to…” Steve mutters to himself as he carefully untangles the bat from the pile of clothing, it’s tails and wings well and truly wrapped up with the material.

It’s not awful. It feels kind of cold, but the skin isn’t like, moist, or anything, it’s very dry and kind of scaly. The wings are more leathery, and the tail is...well, it kind of feels weirdly hollow.

“Okay, I got you Munson. God that’s so weird,” Eddie’s body snakes up Steve’s arm a little way, wings flapping clumsily as he tries to right himself. Steve has to fight his instinct to throw the thing off, the last time a demobat was this close to him it nearly strangled him to death.

Despite climbing all over Steve, Eddie wraps his tail around his arms and chest...but not his neck. Not even close. Kind of like, even in this form, he knows.

Eddie ends up hooking the ‘elbows’ of his wings into Steve’s shirt and just...huddling there. Not doing anything, tail wrapped firmly around Steve’s arm, one wing against Steve’s chest and the other against his back, hugging Steve’s shoulder.

Steve stares at himself, and Eddie, in the mirror, “well, fuck.”

With no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do now, Steve heads to bed. It’s been a bit of a day, and whatever the hell this is can wait until tomorrow. He crawls into bed, carefully lying down. Eddie seems to get it, movements still slow and very clumsy, he shifts completely onto Steve’s chest, sort of walking on the joints of his wings, curling up.

Steve lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, “I guess this is...maybe not the weirdest thing to happen?”

Eddie makes a soft trilling noise.

Fuck.

Steve wakes up slowly, very aware of the warm weight on top of him. He blinks, vision filled with a mop of brown curls. Eddie.

Steve is hugging Eddie. Eddie is mostly on top of him. Eddie is very naked under Steve’s hands and his very obvious erection is digging into Steve’s thigh and, “Eddie, you’re people again!”

Eddie lifts his head, squinting, opens his mouth and says, “mrrrrp?”

It’s eerily reminiscent of the noise he’d made last night, as a demobat.

“You’re a dude again, dude.”

Eddie blinks. It seems to take a long time to process before he finally, finally croaks out, “coffee.”

Steve wholeheartedly agrees.

Steve slips out of bed, Eddie either isn’t acknowledging or hasn't noticed his boner situation, so Steve figures there's some sort of bro code here and just ignores it too.

While coffee is brewing, Steve figures his only possible course of action is to call the smartest person he knows. He will never admit that out loud, but luckily Henderson answers on the second ring, like he’s been waiting for Steve to call him.

“Dustin-”

“Can I come see Eddie yet?”

Steve sighs, “I’m great, thanks for asking, so cool of-”

“Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes, come over.”

The little shit doesn’t even say goodbye. He just hangs up.

Steve takes a coffee up to Eddie, who is buck naked and sprawled ass up over Steve’s bed, “okay, Eddie come on, Dustin’s on the way.”

Eddie groans, crawling out of bed, Steve heads over to his wardrobe to dig out something for Eddie to wear so he isn’t obviously staring at all of Eddie’s nakedness. There’s a thump and a, “shit,” that has Steve spinning back around, Eddie sat on his ass on the floor, looking confused.

“You okay?”

“Legs. Apparently you can forget legs really fast.”

It hadn’t occurred to Steve when he woke up, but it does now. All of Eddie is pristine; there’s not a wound, mark, scar bruise, anything on him anywhere. Steve has to step closer, kneeling in front of Eddie to prod his chest, Eddie swats at him, “you’re all healed up.”

Eddie stops swatting at Steve and prods himself instead, “holy shit. I am.”

“Well...that’s a positive, right?”

Eddie hums, and Steve goes back to digging him out a sweater and some sleep pants and boxers. That’ll do for today. Eddie’s a little wobbly when he stands, so Steve hovers in grabbing distance, but Eddie gets dressed without incident.

Steve offers him the coffee from the nightstand, now cool enough to drink. Eddie takes an enthusiastic mouthful and Steve watches as Eddie’s face goes through a series of...something, his mouth obviously full of coffee. His face is definitely doing something. And then Eddie just opens his mouth, “bleaugh,” letting the coffee just...run back into the mug.

And then he hands it back. To Steve. Who takes it reflexively, “I’ll just...I’ll go and get rid of this.”

“Where is he?”

“Okay, okay, firstly, I need you to not freak out.”

“Steve,” Dustin stares at him, “saying that is guaranteed to make anyone freak out.”

“Yep,” Steve agrees, “I mean it though, Eddie is absolutely fine, I swear it.”

“But. There’s a but isn’t there, Steve why is there always a but with-”

“He turned into a demobat last night. Like just, was a bat. And I didn’t know what to do, so we went to sleep, and then this morning he was Eddie again.”

Dustin’s face is a process, before he finally settles on, “are you sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “yes, yes, I’m sure. He was Eddie, then bat, the Eddie again. It wasn't complicated, just fucking weird.”

“Right...so where is he?”

Steve opens his bedroom door to find...absolute carnage. His bed has moved, the mattress is off the frame, there’s blankets and pillows strewn everywhere, feathers swirling in the air.

“Eddie?”

Eddie pops up on the other side of the bed, shirtless and frantic looking, “I didn’t, I didn’t do anything, it just, it just...it just exploded.”

Steve stares, the feathers settling. Eddie’s actually naked again and appears to be building some sort of fort on the floor of Steve’s bedroom, Steve blinks, “the pillow doesn’t matter Eddie.”

Eddie nods decisively, “good.” Then, after a moments thought, “do you have more?” And then he’s back on his hands and knees rearranging his fort, like a feral racoon or something.

“Dustin’s here, do you want to maybe come and talk to him?”

“It’s the scientific method Steve!”

“We are not throwing anyone off a roof, anywhere, any time, ever.”

They both turn back to Eddie, watching as he eats another spoon of raspberry jelly straight out of the jar.

“You got any ketchup?” Dustin asks, going back to food again.

“That won’t prove either theory, ketchup is red and sweet.”

Dustin turns to him, “Steve, that is possibly the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Steve’s ready to slap the little shit at this point, but Dustin’s face is earnest. Apparently Dustin actually means what he just said. Like, sincerely.

So Steve lets it go, and Dustin suggests, “we need something sweet but not red, and something red but not sweet.”

“We should go to the store,” Steve adds, then stares at Eddie for a minute longer; he’s basically fucking the neck of the jar with his tongue, “I’ll call Nancy to go to the store for us,” Steve adjusts.

Dustin nods, turning the page of his notebook.

Nancy drops grocery bags on the counter while Robin hops up next to her, “so, I thought we could make red jello and add a bunch of salt or something, I got some soup for him to try, some more jelly just in case, and some more ketchup since you said he really likes that. Two tubs of salsa…”

Steve rummages in the bag next to her, when Eddie pops up next to him, Steve hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen. Eddie wedges himself right in there, pushing Steve back with a hand and then...hisses. Hisses at Nancy. Like, makes a hissing noise and bears his teeth. Steve just moves, lets Eddie push him back, while Nancy watches, wide eyes and surprised.

She takes a few Steps back herself, closer to Robin, and tries a tentative, “Eddie?”

He just hisses again, before snapping, “mine!” at her.

And then he disappears, there’s a light thump on the kitchen floor. Everyone watches as bat Eddie extricates himself from his clothes, movements much better this time around. He half climbs and half flaps his way up Steve’s body, until he gets to around waist height and Steve grabs at the thickest part of Eddie’s body to help him out. Eddie climbs the rest of the way, draping himself around the back of Steve’s neck, tail wrapped under one armpit, Eddie standing on his wing joints on the opposite shoulder. He hisses at Nancy again.

“Holy shit,” Nancy says.

Dustin is frantically scribbling in his notebook.

Robin, once she’d got over the shock of Eddie’s transformation, laughed and laughed and laughed. Even Nancy was smirking at them. The way Steve was absently stroking over Eddie to keep him mollified, and that Nancy couldn’t come within ten feet of them without Eddie getting all riled up again.

“So, you and Eddie huh.”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

“He’s feeling plenty threatened by Nance,” Dustin adds, really, really, unhelpfully.

“Probably because they were a thing,” Robin speculates.

“So you and Eddie are like, dating?” Dustin asks, and whatever Steve’s face does makes Robin laugh and laugh and laugh again.

Eddie actually manages a graceful glide off Steve’s shoulder and onto the nest/fort/thing Eddie had constructed earlier. Steve was going to try and tidy it before bed...but from the way Eddie is wing walking across it, pathetically dragging the edge of a pillow in his tiny mouth, Steve guesses that he’s not.

It’s also been a bit of a day, and he can’t really be bothered.

He climbs into bed, Eddie flapping out of the way and then climbing his way carefully up onto Steve’s chest.

This is my life now, Steve thinks, as he stares at the ceiling.

And then gets winded, when the very small demobat lying on his chest is suddenly a full sized man again. Eddie nearly headbutts Steve in the chin and Steve rolls over to dump him off, panicked and with the breath knocked out of him. Eddie makes a pathetic and somehow accusatory trilling noise, like this turn of events is all Steve’s fault, before he rolls over and flops over Steve again.

Apparently, cuddling is a thing they do.

Eddie makes a noise like a purr when Steve rubs his hand up and down the naked skin of Eddie’s back.

So, yeah, this is Steve’s life now.

There is more of this series on AO3 - Stevieschrodinger

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The war was over, but the scars it left behind were far from healed, both physical and emotional.

Bakugo lay in the hospital bed, his body covered in bandages, his mind foggy from the painkillers.

The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound as you sat beside him, waiting for him to wake up. Your heart was heavy with the knowledge of the painful news you had to deliver when he woke.

Slowly, Bakugo's eyes fluttered open, confusion and disorientation clear in his gaze. “Where... where am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and weak.

You leaned closer, taking his hand in yours. "You're in the hospital, Katsuki.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to sit up, wincing in pain. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, holding his remaining hand. "Katsuki, there's something you need to know."

His eyes, still foggy, tried to focus on you. "Spit it out," he muttered, impatience tinged with a hint of fear.

"Your arm," you began, struggling to keep your voice steady. "They couldn't save it. It was too damaged."

Bakugo's gaze darted around the room, panic rising as he tried to move his right arm and found it wouldn't respond. "What the hell?" he gasped, looking down at the empty space where his arm used to be. "What... What the fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes as you squeezed his remaining hand. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, barely moving your lips, tears welling up in your eyes. "They did everything they could."

Bakugo's face contorted with a mix of disbelief and rage. "My quirk... it was in my palms. How am I supposed to be a hero now? No... no, no, no!" he shouted, struggling to sit up, only to fall back onto the bed, his body too weak to support him. "This can't be happening!"

You tried to hold him, to calm him, but he pushed you away with his remaining hand, his eyes wild with fear and anger. "Get away from me!"

"Katsuki, please," you begged, tears streaming down your face as you reached out your hand to place it on his shoulder. "I'm here for you. We can get through this together. We’ll find a way…"

Bakugo screamed, his voice breaking. "Don’t touch me! I'm useless! I'm fucking nothing! And you want to find a way?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "There is no way! I'm useless without my quirk!"

His words cut deep, but you refused to give up on him. "You're still a hero, Katsuki. You're still the strongest person I know…”

He turned his face away, tears of rage and frustration streaming down his cheeks. "Just leave me alone, woman. I want to be fucking alone. Get the fuck out!”

You left the room, your heart shattered and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, but you vowed to yourself that you wouldn't give up on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Bakugo's anger only seemed to grow. He lashed out at everyone, pushing away those who tried to help. Bakugo's mood grew darker as he struggled to come to terms with his loss.

He spent hours in physical therapy, not to regain strength, but to punish himself for his perceived weakness.

One evening, you found him in the hospital gym, punching a bag with his remaining hand until his knuckles bled. 

"Katsuki, stop!" you gasped, covering your mouth with curled palm.

He ignored you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, tears mingling with sweat. "I can't... I can't do this," he panted.

You approached him quickly, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. "You're destroying yourself. This isn't helping."

"And what do you think you know?" he spat, his eyes wild. "You still have both your arms. You still can live and enjoy your sweet life, goddammit!”

“And I want to live it with you," you said fiercely, refusing to let go. "But you need to let me in. You need to let me help you."

His anger gave way to despair, and he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hand. "I don't know how."

You knelt beside him, wrapping your arms around him. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone, Katsuki. Not ever."

Slowly, painfully, Bakugo began to accept your help, allowing you to be his support as he navigated this new reality.

Everyone, including you, his parents and his friends stood by his side through it all, offering support, encouragement, and love.

The therapy sessions became less about punishing himself and more about finding a way to live again.

Slowly but surely, Bakugo regained his confidence, finding new ways to use his quirk and his skills to remain a hero. He still had moments of doubt, moments where he cursed his fate and his limitations.

Those moments became less frequent, replaced by a determination to rise above his challenges.

"I love you," he said one morning, out of the blue, as you approached him in front of the classroom, bringing him bento you’ve prepared for him.

You turned to him, surprised but pleased. "I love you too, Katsuki."

He smirked, a shadow of his old self shining through as he leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss to the top of your head, accepting the box. "I know. And I'm gonna prove to you that I'm still the best damn hero around."

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I never doubted it for a second."

Bakugo found solace in the realization that he could still be the hero he always aspired to be.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Protector pt. 2

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective Ghost, smut 18+ mdni (nothing hardcore. I’m not good at writing it)

Words: 16.5k

Synopsis: Ghost will always protect you...

Part 1

A/N: there are literally no words for me to describe how appreciative and happy it makes me that so many of you guys liked the first part. I wanted to reply to all of you but it would’ve been too much so I hope that this second part will be enough as thanks ❤️ this is for my 1000 followers.

Thank you guys for being so patient with how long this took. I’m so sorry for the wait.

A sob followed by fast breathing made Ghost's eyes snap open immediately.

His heart pounded against his chest as he searched frantically around the room for you. Memories, flashes of your beaten body in front of him begging for mercy, crying and screaming out for somebody to help you, for Ghost to help you and he couldn’t.

Ghost failed you. He let you get hurt again, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep even though it had felt so peaceful with you sleeping beside him. He should’ve been awake to make sure that you were okay, to make sure that the doctor and nurses had been on time to give you more medicine so you didn't have to relive those awful memories again.

It made him panic. He had to help you, he had to make sure you were safe.

He couldn’t think straight, the medicine had worn off and the pain clouded his mind while the sleep was wearing off, and he forgot where you were.

The medicine had worn off for both of you, but you didn’t know that it was safe. You were confused and the pain didn’t help especially when you couldn’t move, it only made panic set in, which made you feel even worse.

“Ghost…” You sobbed and he gripped the edge of his bed so tight the scabs on his knuckles reopened.

“I’m here.” He pushed off the bed to try to get to you and nearly fell when stepped down with his injured leg. He clenched his jaw so tight and forced himself to stand up by using the bed for support. “You’re okay.”

The machines tugged him back and he nearly yelled with anger before he ripped everything off him, the EKG screaming out a beep from being disconnected. He didn’t pay attention to it, his eyes locked onto you as he tried to move forward but collapsed against the wall in pain. Hot pain flushed from his leg and when he looked down he could see red staining the bandages that covered the bullet wound.

“I’m here-” He went dizzy from the sounds and the pain, unable to keep himself upright as he fought so hard to just get to your bed.

You were crying, there were tears running down your face as you writhed in pain and near hyperventilating. He wanted nothing more than to grab you and pull you into him, to wrap his arms around you and hope that it would be enough to make you feel safe again.

How could he let this happen? Was he really that cold hearted, that cruel to make you suffer like this? You didn’t deserve this, you were too good for pain like this.

Ghost didn’t even notice the rushing nurses and doctor until he felt someone grab his arm tightly, causing him to jump and look down to see a nurse looking panicked.

“Why are you out of bed?” She asked incredulously and he ripped his arm out of her hold, glaring at her.

“Help her.” He demanded harshly and she took a few steps back. “She’s in pain, do something!”

“They’re helping her now, you need to get back in bed.”

Ghost groaned, his fists tightened before he looked back at you to see the doctor and the other nurses quickly trying to administer medicine again.

His vision got worse and he stumbled forward. He felt the nurse grab him again and tried to pull him back to his bed but he fought against her, not wanting to go back until he knew for sure that you were going to be okay and that this wasn’t serious, that you had just woken up out of a panic and that you weren’t about to code.

The nurse barked something in his ear but he wasn’t paying attention. He watched your face contort into pain, your chest heave from heavy breaths and your tears roll down your cheeks.

He hated it. He hated to see you like this.

“Sedate him and I’ll fix his stitches.” He managed to hear the doctor order and before he had any time to react, he felt the nurse stick something into his arm.

It must’ve been a powerful sedative or he had exhausted himself out as his vision went dark almost immediately, the last thing he remembered was being put back onto his bed.

Ghost jolted awake a few hours later. He had been lucky that his induced sleep was dreamless though he was still exhausted.

He blinked the drowsiness from his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The bed was a lot less comfortable now that the pain meds were wearing off again and he struggled to keep himself still as the hard mattress dug into his sore thigh. It made him huff and he rubbed his eyes with irritation as he tried his best to ignore it before he glanced towards you.

His eyes widened ever so slightly when they connected with your drowsy open ones. They were hazy, a sign that the pain meds given to you were working and that they had calmed you down from before.

You had been staring at him. There was a soft look on your face, one that couldn’t be achieved by the medicine, when he had turned to look at you. A look that should’ve been reserved for watching someone less rugged and violent than him especially after what he had done to get you here.

It locked him into his place on the bed. He couldn’t move as your eyes raked lazily over his face, taking in every detail that had once been a mystery to you.

You were looking at him as if there was something good to see. You were drinking up the scars, new and old, that peppered his skin like he was a beautiful piece of art made of soft paint rather than blood and gunpowder.

Why were you looking at him like that? It had to be the drugs, your mind was taken over by substances that made your thinking unreliable. You wouldn’t normally give him such a softness if it weren’t that.

Ghost had to tell himself that or else he would have to come to terms that he liked the way you were looking at him now. He wanted you to always look at him like that despite being undeserving of it especially after what he had put you through.

A smile, weak but warm, stretched across your face and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Hey.” You barely spoke above a whisper but he heard you through your hoarse voice. “Never seen you sleep, kinda weird.”

“How do you feel?” He knew the answer to the question but it was difficult for him to think of anything else to say when you looked at him like that.

“Like I’m high off so many drugs.”

You let out a breathless chuckle and sluggishly rubbed your eyes, taking a moment to look away from him.

Ghost quickly pulled his mask on, finding the courage to do it when you were looking away from him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to see his face, quite the opposite if he was being honest, but right now it was too much for him. He felt safer with his feelings under the mask.

You let out a short sigh, your sides spasming as you found it difficult to take a deep breath. The pain was gone for the moment but your body still understood it was damaged and Ghost knew what the pain was going to feel like when they wore off.

When you looked back at him, your face fell with disappointment. He swallowed thickly and averted his eyes to look somewhere else on your body, opting to look at your bandaged fingers that mimicked his due to your similar injuries.

“I like your face.” You blurted out which caused his eyebrows to knit together as he looked back at you. “Should've guessed you were blond from your eyelashes.”

“Used to be blonder when I was younger.” He said and watched another smile pull at your lips when you thought of a young Ghost.

“Bet it was platinum.”

“Close to it.”

Ghost indulged in your normal conversation. He didn’t want to speak about what happened to you right now, not when you were the most conscious he had seen you since before you both had been captured. He wanted to give you a moment's reprieve, to understand that right now you were safe from harm both within your mind and outside of it.

Your body would hopefully heal without many complications but your mind would take time, a lot longer than what you would want and what he wished for you.

He would be there for you though. He always would and he hoped you knew that. Even if he wasn’t sure how he would help you, rarely even able to help himself in a way that made him feel better, but he would try for you.

He also selfishly enjoyed this, the normal conversation distracted him from all the horrible thoughts he could be thinking about. Having you talk to him this way was something he always enjoyed and he liked that even now you were still doing it.

“Are you okay?” You asked him so softly yet his eyes narrowed as if you had accused him of something.

“M’fine.”

He barely gave you a chance to continue when he sat up. Pain flushed over him, more than ever since he hadn’t moved his body for a few hours. The stiffness in his muscles turned to soreness which made his entire body ache as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. His wounded leg screamed with pain and he was careful to not rip the stitches open this time as he pressed his foot on the cold ground, suppressing a shiver and any outward sign that he was in pain.

No one would’ve been able to tell he was injured if it weren't for the fact that he was getting out of a hospital bed. He stood tall and completely unbothered with the same tired eyes as always, hidden beneath his mask.

He was a beast afterall, as Soap put it. He could’ve had more injuries sustained from the capture and he still would’ve carried you out of there. The soreness he was feeling now was nothing compared to previous injuries he’s had in the past. They were an inconvenience now, one that he wished he could get rid of but unfortunately he was still human and that meant he would have to wait.

Even so, that wasn’t going to stop him from doing as he pleased and focusing on you.

He huffed when the machines connected to him made it difficult to move. Without a second thought he ripped the wires off him and unplugged the machine before it started to alert the nurses again, causing you to gasp.

“Ghost!” You scolded him but he just ignored you and grabbed the glass of water Soap left.

You watched him intently, noting the way he had a slight limp as he walked over to you. You tried to sit up on your elbows, but you were far too weak to even get your shoulders off the bed.

Ghost wrapped an arm around your shoulders and very carefully pulled into his side when he sat on the edge of your bed. He held onto you to keep you sitting up straight and let you lean on him for support, nearly sighing with relief when he finally felt your weight on him again.

You were like glass in his arms, fragile and handled with immense care as if you would break if even an ounce of pressure was placed on you. He raised the water up to your lips to let you drink it and you managed to tilt your head back as he tipped the glass forward.

He made sure to tip it slowly so as to not spill any of it on you. He watched your eyes flutter shut with relief when you began to drink the water and he subconsciously began to rub circles into your arm with his thumb.

When you finished he went to refill the glass but you managed to have enough strength to grab onto his shirt.

“Stay.” You were breathless, having exerted all of your energy to sit up on the bed. “Please?”

You needed him. A sense of safety had washed over you when had pulled you into his warmth and when he had moved to leave, your stomach dropped. You knew that he wasn’t going to leave you and that he would come back but you didn’t want him to leave at all, not right now.

Ghost stared down into your exhausted eyes that begged him to stay put for just a little longer and his chest tightened. He couldn’t say anything, the words lost to him again as he fought the urge to lean down and place a kiss anywhere that you would allow him to. An attempt to tell you all the comforting things he wished he could say, to take away the pain with a simple touch against your skin and let you rest as if the world outside of this moment didn’t exist.

Instead, he nodded and set the glass down. He kept his arm around you and when you rested your head on his chest he stiffened for only a moment. When he realized that he liked having you against him like that, he dared to pull you just a little closer.

He listened to you soft wheezing and was reminded of how much worse it had been before. It made him glare up at the ceiling and regret that he had killed the weapons dealers already.

If he hadn’t been trying to get you out of there and it had just been him, he would’ve left them so he could find them again. He would’ve spent little time finding them and would’ve made them suffer ten times worse than you had for even thinking about putting a hand on you.

Ghost wished he could take your pain and inflict on himself so you wouldn’t have to suffer so much. You didn’t deserve to be punished for him doing his job, for keeping his mouth shut, for being too tight-lipped about worthless information. He should’ve just told them what they wanted and broken out before they killed you both so you didn’t have to go through this now.

How were you not repulsed by seeing him? How were you resting your head on his chest like this, acting as if he wasn’t the reason you couldn’t breathe, the reason why you were going to lose sleep?

The guilt festered in his stomach and boiled into his throat. He wanted to push you off of him despite how desperate he was to have you against him.

He felt you weakly tug on his shirt. His eyes softened ever so slightly when he stared down at your heavy lidded eyes. He could tell you were getting drowsy which prompted him to hesitantly place a hand on your waist so he could move you back into bed.

You hummed, your eyes falling shut for a moment and pressed your face into his chest more. You took a deep breath and your muscles loosened, your arms hanging by your side unmoving.

“Thank you.” You whispered with the intent to show gratitude but all it did was make him feel worse.

He couldn’t accept it. He didn’t deserve it, not when you could barely stay awake for more than thirty minutes. Not when you couldn’t move on your own and certainly not when you had to be pumped full of meds to even speak without feeling like you were dying. There was no reason for you to thank him for anything that he did.

“You should sleep.” He kept a steady and soft voice as he wrapped his arms around you. “Doctor will be back soon. Probably run some tests.”

“‘Kay.”

Ghost moved you with ease. It was as if you weighed nothing to him, even when his muscles were sore, as he laid you down back in bed. He treated you so gently, like you were a porcelain doll being put away as he pulled the blanket up to your chest.

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes that concerned you yet you were too tired to say anything. He moved your arms over your stomach before he moved his hand to hold onto your wrist, his finger pressing into your pulse to feel it go steady, a much better feeling than when it had been weak.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you placed your smaller hand over his, your thumb sluggishly caressing his scarred knuckles.

“Sleep.” He repeated, causing you to hum.

He moved his hand away from your wrist and limped back to his bed. He kept every wince in, feeling that his pain was nothing compared to yours, that he had the audacity to even express that he was hurting around you.

He sat on the edge of his bed. He didn’t care to hook himself back up to the machine or to plug it back in as he stared at your now unconscious form. He gripped the bed tightly under him and clenched his jaw as he watched you sleep.

Ghost wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, staring at you completely enamored by you again yet his heart hurt a lot more than normal. He wondered if this would be the last time you would get actual sleep and doubted that a few days from now you’d be able to stay on the meds. He dreaded the moment he would have to hear your pained cries again, just the memory of it making him feel sick.

A sigh left his chest as he heard approaching footsteps that brought him out of his thoughts.

More tests, more pain, and nothing he could do to help you.

~

You weren’t sure how to react when you felt your lieutenant’s stare on your back as you walked into the training room.

On one hand, you didn’t mind having him watching you.

It was Ghost, you had worked with and known him for a few years now. You knew his mannerisms, his little ticks and what he was feeling when you watched him, finding out that he was actually very expressive for someone who hid their face as much as he did. You had managed to befriend him over the years and though he would never openly call you his friend, you both had some sort of connection between you.

That connection ran deep, into the way you both found solitude together in both quiet and loud moments. On missions you two talked to keep each other in check, to understand what mindset you both were in and if it was one you could work with.

Jokes, little things done for each other whether the other person asked for it or not, and on the rare occasion talking about what was really wrong with you both is what kept you both close.

It shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise to you as it had been when you found out you were in love with your lieutenant, it was obvious when you thought back on it. To the moments where you would practically confess your love to him through your eyes, the little touches you gave him so you could just have a tiny taste of the warmth that radiated off his body, the need to be there for him and to listen to him when he gave you the honor of opening up.

You wanted to believe that the moments you spent with Ghost were that of friends, of co-workers because that’s who you’re supposed to be. But to you it was much more than that now.

So you were happy to feel his eyes on you as you wrapped your hands in preparation for a sparring match. You liked when he watched over you because you knew that you were safe when he did.

On the other hand, this was a stare that wasn’t exactly kind.

In reality, Ghost was glaring at you. His eyes were narrowed, pointed on you as he watched every movement you took, every twitch in your muscles. He was almost like a predator waiting for its prey to drop its guard to attack.

He was pissed and you noticed it the moment your eyes met when you walked into the training room. He wasn’t trying to hide it either, especially when you offered a smile and a wave, he just stood there glaring at you.

You knew why.

It had been a month. A month since he had carried you to safety and a week or so since you had been discharged from the infirmary. You were still healing, your ribs hadn’t fully healed and you got frequent headaches from your concussion still. Most of the cuts had been stitched back, leaving scars across your skin, the most prominent one being a nasty gash that stretched from your left temple to eyelid.

You weren’t supposed to be super active, the doctor ordering you to take walks instead of train until you were back to full health, but you were going a little crazy. The walks weren’t enough to keep your stiffness or the restlessness away and you were desperate to get back into your old routine.

Today was a good day, with barely any bad thoughts and no panic attacks or crying spells. You were lucky to still have those good days and every day day you had made you more grateful for when you were okay.

You glanced back at Ghost.

He was still glaring at you. You wanted to tell him to stop and that you were fine but ever since you both got back, he seemed to believe that you were still in constant pain. More like soreness but he was insistent that you followed doctors orders and made sure you didn’t do anything at all, almost making it so you could even go on your doctor ordered walks.

However you would take the glare instead of the pitiful look he gave you most of the time.

“You could spar with me if you’re that worried.” You offered, which made his eyes narrow at you even more.

“I want you to leave.” He demanded and you had to suppress a laugh.

“You can’t force me to sit in my room all day.”

“I can.”

You gave him a look but he didn’t falter which made you shake your head.

Ghost was in a particularly bad mood today which meant he was more stubborn than usual. Usually his bad moods helped fuel him to get through missions with precision and efficiency since it was a good way to get it out of his system. He rarely ever let himself get into a bad mood and was able to control his emotions pretty well, but recently his patience had run thin.

You wondered if he was going through what happened too, it only made sense. He had been beaten to shit too.

“I know my limits. This is just going to be a warm up.” You explained to him but he shook his head.

“If you knew your limits you wouldn’t be here.” He argued. “You haven’t given your ribs enough time to heal.”

“Did you give your leg enough time to heal?”

You gave him an expectant look but he only stared back at you. While he was busy watching you all of the time it gave you the chance to watch him as well and you noticed that he still had a slight limp. You also noticed the way he would flex the hand he broke, most likely trying to get the stiffness to go away.

You could only assume the reason why they were still acting up was because he had walked out of the infirmary a week before you which had not nearly been enough time to heal his wounds.

It was a little hypocritical in your mind and made you just a little annoyed. You appreciated that he was looking out for you and honestly it made your chest warm a lot more than it should've, but you were starting to feel smothered.

You were still strong.

“I’m a big girl.” You said and you saw him fight an eye roll. “I’ll be fine.”

You didn’t give him the chance to argue further as you walked towards the sparring mats. You eyed a lot of the rookies who were training today under Soap’s supervision with curiosity, noting that many of them were being sloppy in their forms.

You almost wanted to point that out to Ghost since if they were being this bad at sparring, it would be a walk in the park. You’d be surprised if you broke a sweat.

“How the fuck did any of ya get here?” Soap yelled being the most annoyed you had seen him in a long time.

“Rough day.” You commented and he groaned, causing you to give him a small smile.

“Price must have it out for me, I’m losin’ my head here.”

You chuckled and found that your attention stayed on him rather than the rookies in front of you. You found that looking at your fellow sergeant was a lot more calm than watching the sparring matches in front of you. Now that you were up closer, you could see that even though the rookies were sloppy with their moves, they were still being rough as they normally would be.

Soap kept you calm despite the fact that often he was the one who had the most energy. Usually you would feed off of it, but lately you hadn’t felt well enough to keep up with him. Now anytime you were with him he seemed to be more on the lowkey side which made you wonder if he was doing that on purpose or not.

“L.t. know you’re here?” Soap wondered and you hummed.

“Yeah, he knows.” You muttered, not looking back because you knew he was still watching you judging by the fact you could still feel his eyes on you.

“And he let you stay?”

You sent him a look but he only looked worried at you. It made you shift uncomfortably in your spot and you wanted to look away from him but there was nowhere else for you to look.

You didn’t know how to react to everyone’s extreme worry for you. It wasn;t a surprise that they cared for you but with the amount that they expressed you wondered if maybe they believed you were never good enough for this job in the first place.

So what if you had been tortured? It’s a rare occurrence for everyone who works in this field but it did happen and it wasn’t like you were the first person to get beat to shit. It made you feel like maybe you would always be this way, that there was no way you were going to recover.

“He wants to kick me out.” You said and Soap let out an amused huff.

“You gonna let him?” He wondered and you gave him a small smile.

“No.”

A rookie slammed another rookie on the sparring mat and you flinched. Your heart rate picked up as they wrestled with each other and you crossed your arms to hide the slight shakiness in your hands, finding it hard to continue watching them. Instead, you tried to direct your attention to someone else, only to find that any sight of sparring was making you nauseous.

You felt exposed, like everyone was staring at you, like everyone could see adrenaline running through your veins and you wanted to hide.

An image of a dirty room, the smell of copper stuck in your nose, the sound of your struggling breaths and the body of the one you loved bound to a chair spitting out blood.

Approaching footsteps, terror, the scramble to try to escape but not getting anywhere, the pleas for it to stop.

The pain. The searing hot pain that made you want it all to end.

“Y/n.”

Ghost’s voice was right next to and pulled you out of the horrendous images, leaving you clammy and your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

You blinked a few times and when you moved to look at him, you could feel the tension in your muscles slowly dissipate as you remembered where you were.

There was a soft look in his eyes that made your heart slow down. He extended his hand hesitantly and brushed his knuckles against your arm so lightly that if it weren’t for the tingling sensation that was left behind from his warmth, you would’ve thought he hadn’t touched you at all.

It was the most comfort you assumed you could be given by him, whether that be because you both were in public or because he couldn’t give you anymore, but it was enough to make you realize that you were safe.

No matter what happened to you, you would be safe because of Ghost. He would do anything to keep you safe and you knew it, the fact that he had completely ignored his injuries to carry you said more about that than any words could.

You let out a deep breath and some of the panic went with it.

There went the good day.

Ghost had that pity look in his eyes and everything went sour. Even with the mask on you could see it, you could see the way his eyebrows tensed together as he wondered about the poor state you were in.

You were fine.

Your eyes narrowed and you looked back at the sparring mats, determined to find someone who was waiting for their next match. Not only could you prove to Ghost and anyone else who must’ve thought the same way that you were capable, this would be a good way to take your mind off of what just happened.

Your eyes landed on a rookie who was drinking some water.

He was much taller than you and a little bigger, but that didn’t mean he would be any better than you. In fact, judging by the way his shoulders slumped he seemed to have a shy demeanor.

“Rookie!” You called out to him and he looked up at you with surprise. “Want another round?”

“Sure.” He set down his water and made his way onto a free space in the mats.

You went to meet him before a firm hand grabbed your arm, causing you to clench your jaw when you looked back at Ghost.

“Sergeant.” His tone was as much of a warning as his hardened eyes were. You were one bad experience away from being thrown out of the training room and he made sure you understood that.

You didn’t falter and you knew you were playing a dangerous game by defying your lieutenant. It was almost a shock to you at how insubordinate you were but then again he hadn’t ordered you to get out yet, all he had done was give you warnings or concerns from a place of friendship rather than a place of work.

“You sure you want to fight ‘em?” Soap eyed you with concern causing you to groan. “I don’t think-“

“Will you two stop it?” You ripped your arm from Ghost. “I’m fine.”

You glared at them both and as much as you wanted to tell them off, to yell at them so they would get the point and to get your frustration out but you couldn’t. There was no point in that, it wouldn’t solve anything in fact you were sure it would make things worse by pushing them away for both you and them.

You had to tell yourself they were trying to help, even when they were being this overbearing.

Instead, you let out a huff and sent them a short glare to get them to back off before you made your way to the rookie.

“Go easy, yeah?” Soap called out to you both but you didn’t say anything.

You stood in front of the rookie with a smile in an attempt to shake the thoughts from your head and to ignore the stares you were getting from the sidelines. You took a deep breath when he returned the smile and shook out any of the nerves that you still had.

The rookie seemed friendly, especially when you directed him to take a stance in front of you and fixed his form for him.

“Let’s not do anything rough.” You told him because despite the fact that you wanted to prove yourself, you did know your limits.

“Yes ma’am.”

You snorted and shook your head, finding it almost sweet that the rookie would be that respectful to you, before you threw a punch towards him. You almost laughed at the expression on his face when it connected with his chest, the light punch being barely a tap, before you went to hit him again.

The rookie tried to dodge but wasn’t fast enough. Every punch you threw landed and with each movement you felt yourself slowly start to feel back to normal.

Each dodge from the rookie's fist made you feel alive again, you were breathing heavily but it felt good, there was barely any pain and the rush from being untouchable made you confident. It was almost as if nothing had happened and that made you feel so much better about yourself than a month's worth of recovery had.

The rookie got sloppy the longer you went. He seemed to be worn out with how quick you were, being unable to catch a break from your relentless punches. If this was a normal spar, one where you weren’t pulling your punches and going easier, he would’ve been out already and that fed your ego more than it should’ve.

His eyebrows were knitted in concentration and a flash of determined annoyance across his face. He seemed to change his entire demeanor as he got tired of you playing with him and he suddenly turned serious. His punches held weight to them that yours didn’t and he had managed to throw them at a faster speed that you were having trouble keeping up with.

You managed to hit him one more time without getting hit yourself and it must’ve set him off, causing him to throw out a punch far too quick for you to dodge.

His fist slammed into your side and your vision went white.

You couldn’t breathe and your abdomen spasmed from the hot, burning sensation prickled up from your lungs to your chest making it tighten. Your eyes watered as you tried to gasp for air and you clutched your side unable to hide the fact that you were in immense pain.

You collapsed onto your knees and your head connected with the mat as you keeled over in pain, rendered completely paralyzed with pain.

Panic rose in your chest the longer it took to breathe. The only thoughts that ran through your mind to keep you from falling into panic attack were you’re safe, Ghost is here, you’re safe.

The rookie knelt down in front of you and you flinched away from his touch when he rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay-”

“Get away from her!” Ghost demanded, his voice laced with anger only someone with fear could have.

You managed to lift your head off the mat to see him and Soap rushing towards you.

Ghost grabbed the rookie’s shirt and yanked him back with enough strength to throw him across the mat with ease. He sent a bone chilling glare towards the terrified man now as he created a protective barrier with his body as he stepped between you and the rookie.

His heart raced and he stood there as if to challenge the rookie to even think about trying to help you.

He clenched his fists tight, too tight as his newly healed hand ached painfully before he let Soap take care of the rookie. He kneeled in front of you and grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady.

You blinked the tears away and took a deep breath, letting lungs fill with air as you heaved from the sudden release of tightness in your abdomen. The air burned and felt warm in your throat and though you could finally breathe once more, the pain in your chest wouldn’t go away. The rookie had somehow managed to hit you in one of your more sores on your side and though he could’ve hit you a lot harder than he had, it was enough to make you feel like your ribs were stabbing into your lung every time you took a breath.

Ghost looked into your eyes with that pity look behind the anger. He was shaky, you could feel it in his hands and see him trying to control it as he narrowed his eyes. They bounced around your face and he quickly cupped your cheek with his large hand as your head dropped forward.

“I’m okay.” You rasped out to try to get him to stop worrying and to get rid of the look he had. “I’m fine.”

“Then get up.”

His voice sounded sharp and almost indifferent to how much pain you were in but you knew better. You could hear the worry deep within it especially with the way he was looking at you as you tried to gather strength to stand. He wanted you to get up, he wanted you to walk it off because if that were the case then you were okay.

You tried to. You tried to push yourself off the mat to walk it off like you used to do with any injury you may have gotten but you felt too heavy, like you couldn’t even support your own weight.

The strength you had wasn’t enough. You couldn’t push past the tightness or the stabbing in your lung that made it difficult to take long breaths. The pain spread everywhere and was too unbearable to even let you move on your own.

You were hurt. You were broken just like Ghost had thought.

You shut your eyes and your head hung with defeat.

“I can’t.”

~

You sat on the edge of a hospital bed in the infirmary with an ice pack pressed against the spot the rookie had punched. You were hunched over since it was the only comfortable position you could be in at the moment, even though there was still a dull ache left in your abdomen. The ice pack helped deter some of it along with some high dosage over the counter pain meds given to you by a nurse.

It had been hours since you had arrived in the infirmary. Ghost had to carry you to it and when you arrived they immediately began to check to see if your ribs had been broken again or had gotten worse. The tests took hours and spanned well into the early evening, making you miss out most of the day.

The tests had come back half an hour ago and you were lucky that your ribs weren’t broken again, only bruised just a little more. Unfortunately, that meant that more time was added to your leave which you had the luxury of being told when Price scolded you after he heard about what happened.

You were exhausted. Everything that happened today had taken it out of you and you were just ready to go to bed in the hopes that you could get some uninterrupted sleep after this. You doubted you would, you had come close to two panic attacks today and horrible flashbacks that you were sure you were going to be plagued by nightmares tonight.

You really had no one to blame but yourself for this. You could’ve listened to Ghost when he told you to get out, to go back to your room to rest but you were too stubborn to do that. Now you were dealing with the consequences of that.

He had been right that you hadn’t given yourself enough time, though that didn’t make him any less of a hypocrite in your book, but it definitely worsened your mood a lot more than what you wanted.

You didn’t really want to believe that you were that broken but you were. You couldn’t train without having a near panic attack or getting messed up by one punch. You could barely even do the mundane things in your life without feeling out of breath or sore in most places. There was nothing you could do without being reminded that you were practically below the average soldier in your job at the moment.

A huff left your mouth as you waited for the doctor to come back to release you from the infirmary. You were sure why it was taking so long but you hoped things would move along faster soon so you wouldn’t stew in your own thoughts anymore.

You heard footsteps approaching and you glanced up to see Ghost heading your way with a water bottle in his hand. You ignored the narrowed look in his eyes as they landed on you and instead you stared at the floor.

“Here.” He offered the bottle and you took it from him, taking a few sips of the cold liquid with a nod. “Still in pain?”

“Just sore.” You screwed the cap on and rubbed the spot on your ribs with your fingers.

“What’s the damage?”

You glanced up at him to see him still staring at you. You chewed on your inner lip when you made eye contact with him again and for a moment you saw his anger falter. His eyes turned soft and you watched as they bounced around your face.

You wondered what exactly his face looked like at the moment, whether his eyebrows were pulled together or if he had a scowl. His eyes were always expressive and you would never want that to change yet after you had seen his face, though it was hard to remember many details since you weren’t exactly sober, you wanted to always see it. Especially now when it was hard to tell if he wanted to chew you out for insubordination or to make sure you were okay.

Truthfully, all you wanted was for him to show his face. There was something about seeing him without the mask that made you feel infinitely better. Maybe it was the fact that you had looked at it while he carried you to safety or that he let you see it without a care, you weren’t sure, but you knew that right now you would feel a lot less tense if you saw him again.

“Bruised, not too bad but enough to extend my leave.” You explained and he nodded.

“Gives you more time to take care of yourself.” He said and though he wasn’t wrong it still made your eyes narrow.

“More like rubs it in my face that I’m fucking useless.”

You weren’t looking for pity, in fact you hadn’t meant to let that slip out but you were extremely frustrated with yourself. It made you cringe but that was taken away when Ghost’s eyes fell that pity look and all of the frustration built up inside of you burst out of you like a broken pipe.

“Can you stop looking at me like that?” You snapped and caught him off guard. “I don’t need your pity on top of everything else.”

“Pity?” He stared back at you offended and you rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“Yeah, you don’t hide it as well as you do with everything else.”

You glared at him and watched as he stared at you incredulously, the look setting off more anger in you. It was one thing for him to express it blatantly through the way he looked at you but it was another to lie to your face when you called him out on it.

He could at least own up to it. It still wouldn’t make things better in your mind, but he was usually an honest and direct person. This kind of behavior was unlike him and at the moment it bothered you more than it worried you, being too clouded by your own frustration to think anything different.

“You were hurt and you expect me not to care?” He snapped back, his voice raising ever so slightly as he loomed over you.

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m dead weight!” You weren’t intimidated by him as you hopped onto the floor, completely disregarding any soreness you felt as you did so.

“After all that happened, you think I think of you as dead weight?”

Ghost scoffed and rolled his eyes, causing you to clench your jaw tightly. He glared down at you, the comforting dark void that were his eyes now turned to coldness as he tensed up. His body was rigid as if it pained him to even stand there and argue with you yet he looked as if he was angry enough to forget about that.

You were waiting for his emotions to take control of him, for him to yell at you to stop berating him but he still seemed to choose his words carefully.

It made you almost jealous how he rarely ever lost control when you were a mess of emotions bottled up that could explode with just a minor inconvenience. Even when he did lose control, it seemed he always put his anger towards something else rather than picking fights like you were doing right now.

What you didn’t know is that Ghost would hate himself more if he lost control of himself like he had in the base. He hated to argue with you, he hated to argue with anyone if he were being honest, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. What could be avoided was letting himself make the mistake of letting his anger speak for him.

That anger wasn’t him, he didn’t like it, not even when he killed the weapons dealers, and you didn’t deserve to have it directed towards you.

Ghost took a deep breath and though the anger didn’t leave his eyes some of the tension in his body did. He looked you straight in the eyes with his narrowed one and made sure that he was the only thing that had your attention.

“I don’t pity you.” He stated firmly as if that would end the argument once it was said.

As irritated as you were, you still had enough sense to see that he was telling the truth. You could see it in the way he never once looked away from you as he said it and when you let the words sink in, some of the anger slipped away. However, as you continued to stare at him it only left one question in your mind as you thought back to every moment he looked at you that way.

“Then what is it?” You huffed and still sent him a slight glare.

You wanted answers and frankly you deserved them. If he was going to say he wasn’t pitying you but he was going to act so protective over you then you had to know. You couldn’t keep letting this happen unless you figured out what exactly was making him act so strange.

He didn’t say anything, he only stared at you and to anyone else they wouldn’t have seen the nervousness that flashed in his eye for a split second but you caught it. You caught onto every little nervous tick he had; the way he would square his shoulders to make himself look bigger, stronger and intimidate whoever was making him feel that way to go away. His muscles would tense and his eyes would go alert as if he were waiting for something to attack him.

You were worried now. Why would it make him so nervous if he hadn’t been trying to hide it in the first place? He had told you the truth just now but when you wanted to know the real answer, he was suddenly back to keeping it from you.

If it wasn’t pity then what else could it be? He had only begun to look at you that way when you woke up in the hospital bed for the second time and despite the meds you could remember how his eyes went sad as he told you to go to sleep. You knew that he had been worried for you but at the time and even now you knew it was more than that.

You stared at him and looked deep into his eyes, noticing the way the nervousness grew worse when his eyes landed on the scar you had. That’s when it hit you.

It wasn't pity.

It was guilt.

Your chest tightened and you nearly felt tears begin to form as you looked at him with a kind of anguish you didn’t think you could feel. You scolded yourself for even thinking that he pitied you when really he was most likely putting himself through hell because of the guilt he had.

It made you want to cry because how could he ever blame himself for your pain when he never hurt you? He had saved you, you were alive standing in front of him. Never once did you ever think to place the blame on him for what happened and yet he was the one carrying that burden when it should be the weapons dealers who were rotting six feet under.

“You don’t…blame yourself for what happened, do you?” You hoped that maybe you were wrong and that it had been something else entirely.

Ghost’s eyes widened slightly and he shifted away from you. He finally broke eye contact from you and though he stayed silent his actions said a lot more than any words ever could.

Your face fell and you placed a hand on his arm to try to comfort him.

“Simon-”

“Alright, sergeant.” The doctor called out as she walked up to you while looking at the papers in her hands. “Sorry for the wait.”

Ghost took it as an opportunity to leave and pulled away from your touch. He didn’t say anything to you as he made his way out of the infirmary, his usual long stride making it easier for him to disappear from your view too quickly for you to say anything.

There were no words you could say that would help the situation at the moment. You could hardly pay attention to the doctor as you stared at the doors, foolishly hoping that he would come back just because you wanted him to when you knew he most likely was in his room by now, hidden from everyone including you.

When you were finally able to leave the infirmary, you went to your room instead of going to his. You knew better than to pressure him into talking about something he didn’t want to, especially when he was worked up. It would get you nowhere and make things worse for you both.

Instead, you took the time to take a long shower. It would give you enough time to gather your thoughts for when you went to go talk to him and to give him enough time to be by himself.

The hot water running off your skin pulled you deep in thought. It was clear that Ghost didn’t want to talk about this to anyone but most certainly not to you and that had to do with the fact that he rarely ever talked about his issues with anyone, but you wondered if maybe there was another reason too.

Was he afraid that you blamed him? Did he think that you resented him for what happened?

The mere thought of that made you feel sick. You couldn’t let him think that you hated him when that was far from the truth. You hoped that you hadn’t done anything to make him think that, but if he already believed it then that was the case. However, you were determined to at least clear the air with him. You weren’t going to let the pain inflicted on you ruin your life even more by pushing you both away from each other.

You got out of the shower and dried yourself off, making sure to put on comfier clothes since you knew you weren’t going anywhere else tonight, and made your way to his room.

Ghost’s room was far from everyone else’s. It was no surprise to anyone that this was the case since he was a private man but it did mean that it was out of the way when you wanted to visit him. That never really stopped you, but you had only been to his room a handful of times before this moment since both of you were often together that you rarely ever went there to see him.

You stopped in front of his door and hesitated to knock. There was still a chance that he wouldn’t want to talk about it and for a split second you wondered if it would be better to wait until tomorrow before you shook your head. You wanted to clear the air now.

You knocked softly but loud enough for him to hear. You held your hands close to you as you fidgeted with them, your eyes glued to the door as you waited for a response.

“Ghost.” You called out after a long period of silence.

There was no response but you heard him approach the door and you took a small step back. The door opened and you looked up at Ghost to see him wearing more comfortable clothes as well along with his black balaclava, an outfit you liked almost more than what he wore on missions.

His eyes softened when he looked at you, they bounced around your face and his shoulders relaxed as he gave you a small nod. He seemed to be in a better mood than he had been the entire day and you judged by the way he looked at you, he wanted you to be with him at the moment.

“What do you need, sergeant?” He wondered and you bit the inside of your lip.

“Can we talk?”

Ghost gave another short nod and he stepped out of the way to let you in, his eyes never leaving as you entered his room. He closed the door behind you and stood in front of you expectantly without saying anything.

You opened your mouth to say something before you closed it. You were still playing with your hands as you tried to come up with the right words to say. It seemed like everything you had thought of in the shower had disappeared the moment you had laid eyes on him.

The silence between you both made your stomach churn ever so slightly and that never happened. Clearly something was going on since you never had an issue with being in silence with him before.

“I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier.” You decided to try to ease into the conversation in hopes that it would make it easier for him.

“Get to the point.” Ghost disregarded the question and you sent him a look.

Now he wanted to be direct.

“Why do you blame yourself for what happened?”

Ghost’s shoulders tense up again but he stayed put. He took a deep breath and this time you couldn’t see nervousness when you looked into his eyes, instead you saw his professional, cold stare he used often on the battlefield.

“As your lieutant, it’s my job to keep my team safe and I fucked up.” He said and your eyebrows knitted together. “And now you’re paying the consequences for my mistake.”

“We both fucked up.” You reminded him.

“Doesn’t matter. It was my responsibility and I failed.”

You felt your heartache as you saw the guilt creep into the anger he had. You watched his hands ball up into fists and watched how he began to breathe just a little heavier than before. It hurt you to see him beat himself up so harshly for something that wasn’t his fault, especially when he had suffered through the same torture as you.

You carefully placed your hand on his wrist and watched for any sign of discomfort in his eyes when you did.

His eyes neither softened nor did they show that he hated the contact, instead he watched your every move, every microexpression across your face as you slid your hand down.

You managed to slip your fingers through the fist he made, your soft skin gliding over his palm in an attempt to open his hand without you asking him to do it. When he let go of the fist he had made, you held his hand and caressed his scarred knuckles with your thumb while you stared up at him.

There was something else he was hiding and he was using the mask to keep it secret. You knew that it was a security blanket for him, not only to keep himself safe and to keep the persona he created for himself but also to create a barrier for vulnerable moments like these. It made him feel safe but it also pushed him down, drowning him in his pain and causing him to bottle it up until it was released on the battlefield. Now it was being used to block you from trying to ease his mind from the pain that your near death caused.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and stepped just a little closer, making sure to check if he was okay with you getting in his space. You felt him place his hands on your hips, his fingers gripping them ever so slightly as he pulled you almost into his chest.

Your fingers found the edge of his mask and you ran them along the hem of the fabric without looking away from his eyes.

“Can I see you?” Your voice was soft as if he would be scared away if you spoke any louder.

Ghost hummed an approval and watched as you rolled the fabric up in your hands before you slowly pulled it off his face, giving him enough time to change his mind if he truly did not want you to look at him.

When the mask was finally off of his face, your chest tightened even more when you could fully see the sadness that was etched into the scowl he wore on his face. Every scar, old and new, that peppered his face weighed him down more as he stared at you with eyes that were determined to keep hold of the anger he felt.

But it quickly disappeared when you gently place your hands on his face. Stubble scratched your fingers and you watched as his eyes widened ever so slightly from the sudden contact before they softened so much you thought you saw a few tears well up in them. Your thumb traced a new scar on his cheekbone and you caressed his cheek as you moved your hand to the nape of his neck. You ran your fingers through his messy hair and watched as his eyes fluttered shut.

Simon let out a long breath and leaned into you, holding you by your hips. For a moment you didn’t want to break the silence as you also found peace within it. You liked the way his hair felt on your fingers and you liked being this close to him, especially when his thumbs were rubbing small circles into your hips. You liked that in this moment you both were able to enjoy touching each other in softer ways than what either of you were used to.

You had to break it however. You couldn’t let him stay in pain.

“I never blamed you.” Your voice was still soft and he opened his eyes to look at you. “I would never in my entire life blame you for this.”

Simon’s eyebrows knitted together and he shook his head. He nearly pulled away from you but didn’t let go of his face. When he tried to look away from you, hurt and anger flashing across his face, you made sure to keep his attention as you continued to play with his hair.

“It’s not your fault, Simon.”

He stared into your eyes, searching for a hint of something that would tell him that you were lying but you were being the most honest he had ever seen you before. You were so sure in believing that he wasn’t at fault for what happened to you that he nearly believed it himself.

This time you did notice how his eyes got misty and you were prepared to watch a few tears fall but they never came.

Instead, Simon pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around you, careful to not put pressure against your ribs as he did so. He leaned his head down and rested his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes as he waited for you to reject him.

When you locked your arms around his neck and kept him as close to you as possible, he sighed with relief. He didn’t hesitate to turn his head to the side and press his lips against yours.

They were rough just like he was but he kissed you with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of. Each time your lips moved against his, your breath was stolen from you as he pressed you against him as much as he could, almost like he wanted to absorb every part of you into his body.

You melted into him, your arms locking behind his neck as you pulled him against you to get more of him if it was even possible. You shuddered when his warm hands ran up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with the ghost of touch through your shirt. The feeling set a fire in your stomach and even when his hands moved back down to your hips you could still feel the remnants of his touch.

Simon broke the kiss and snaked his arm under your knees. He picked you up with ease and held you close to him as he quietly caught his breath, his face slightly flushed while his dazed eyes stared deep into yours.

There was a deep desire within them heated by the weight of you in his arms. He could hold you like this forever if he wanted to and if you would let him. It made him feel strong enough to take the brunt of anything physical that dared to try to reach you without even flinching. It fueled the fire in him, it made him want you in ways that he only let himself think about when he was alone in the confines of his room with the image of you behind his eyes.

You felt the same way having his strong arms hold you up steadily with confidence. You weren’t worried he’d drop you, even when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned closer to place a kiss on his lips again. You hummed when he held onto you tighter and he let out a soft grunt as you took his lips into your.

He could carry you wherever he pleased and do whatever he pleased to you this way which made you dig your fingers into the nape of his neck.

He deepened the kiss. He held you almost the same way he had when he carried you to safety, protective and full of comfort that you would never be able to get from anyone else but that was okay but you didn’t want to get it from anyone else. You only wanted it from him, you only wanted him.

Simon moved towards his bed where he laid you down on top of it. He didn’t break the kiss as he climbed on top of you, pushing his leg between yours and slipping his tongue inside of your mouth. He tasted like tea with the faintest hint of cigarette smoke that made you hungry for more of him.

You let out a soft moan when his hand roamed down your side, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation across your skin when he moved it underneath your shirt. You arched your back into his warmth when he palmed your breast, his thumb rubbing across your nipple. You gripped his shirt tightly to keep him close to you and pressed your body into his, your mind already muddled from the minimal contact as he trailed kisses from your mouth to the underside of your jaw.

Your skin flushed with heat when he sucked the spot gently, earning another moan from your throat. You gasped when he bit your skin, a whine leaving your mouth when you felt a slight sting that was remedied by the swipe of his tongue over the spot.

You felt crushed underneath his weight in the best way possible, especially as he pinched your nipple between his fingers, his large hand squeezing and playing with the plump flesh as he pleased but it wasn’t enough. You could feel yourself ache for him to touch you in other places, you need more than just his hand on your breast, you needed both of them to hold you, to feel you in a place you only dreamed of before this moment.

You rolled your hips along his thigh to get some kind of friction, the snag from his pants against your aching cunt gave you enough to make you sigh with relief.

Simon grabbed the hem of your pants, stopping you from moving your hips as he gave them a tug. You didn’t hesitate to slip them off with his help and a moan escaped your mouth when he palmed you through your underwear which was already damp from your slick.

“Fuck.” He grunted in your ear before he began to leave more marks on your neck.

His fingers rubbed your clit through your underwear, making it more soaked as you moaned from the friction. Your hips moved up to meet his hand, small moans leaving your mouth as he put the right amount of pressure against you.

He grabbed your hips and pushed his leg on you more. He left kisses on your neck before he sat up to look down at you and you whined with a slight pout from the absence of his hot breath against your skin. However, that was quickly pushed away when he gently guided your hips along his thigh, the friction becoming more intense because of the removed layer. You rolled your hips along with his movements, the feeling of his pants against your clit through your underwear making you a noisy mess.

Simon watched you fuck yourself on his thigh with dark eyes full of desire. Each moan and gasp you made had him pushing you down on his thigh to add more pressure so you could get to your climax. His chest heaved up and down as an almost primal need to make you feel good overtook him.

You could see it in his eyes and it made you ride him harder, the familiar tug of pleasure building up. You chased it, your underwear now soaked and spreading to his pants as you gripped his arm for extra support. Your eyes were lidded as you stared up at Simon and you clenched around nothing as you saw just how much he liked seeing you come undone like this, how much he liked that you were using him for something good.

A tightening pain began to creep in your sides and you clenched your jaw. You were starting to get breathless but not in the way that you wanted to be. Your sides were spasming from the exertion and the spot where the rookie punched you stabbed into your lungs, making your chest heave. You were determined to keep going as you fought for the pleasure you felt against the pain in your lungs.

However, a particular bad stab against your lungs made you wince and stop. Heat flushed your face as you shut your eyes, placing a hand over them in an attempt to hide yourself as you huff with frustration.

“Fuck…I’m sorry.” You shook your head as your throat tightened.

“It’s alright.” Simon shushed you and pulled your hand away from your eyes, placing soft kisses against your lips. “You’re okay.”

He positioned himself overtop of you so he could keep kissing you as he began to move your hips on his thigh again. He went slow at first, giving you time to catch your breath as the pleasure began to build again. His grip was more gentle this time but he kept the same pressure against your cunt, nearly identical to the way you had been doing it before.

You were still tense, the soreness in your side still there as he moved your hips for you. You were struggling to hold onto the pleasure while trying to ignore the fact that you had given up, your body so tense you felt like a rock.

“Let go.” His voice was soft against your ear as he placed slow kisses on the marks he made on your neck. “I’ve got you.”

Those words, he had repeated to you over and over again when he had held you in his arms. They had been reassuring for him in the moment, to tell himself that he was strong enough to save you but now they had a different meaning. Those three words were to let you know that he was there for you, that he would always be there for you especially when you were damaged like you were. He could be strong for you, he could help you, he wanted to help you and he wanted you to accept it because he wanted to be there even when you were better.

They sunk into you and you slowly let go of the tension in your muscles, slowly stopped focusing on the pain and instead focused on the pleasure that he was giving to you.

You fell into his warmth and the friction against your clit began to cloud your mind again to the point you couldn’t control the sounds you were making. Your moans were like a song to Simon and he sighed deeply as he left another mark on your neck.

You were close and he could feel it. Your thighs began to twitch and your breaths were short as you grabbed his shirt tightly. You managed to get back enough strength to move your hips along with his hands again. Your eyes began to flutter shut and he kept a steady pace.

“That’s it, just like that.” He cooed in your ear when the band in your stomach finally snapped and your body tense as your orgasm washed over you.

The comforting praise from him made you feel more warm as you were out of breath again. You were still coming off of your high but you were still aching for him, you wanted more of him.

Dazed, you ran your fingers through his hair, giving him an impatient tug that made him leave a kiss on your shoulder, a way to tell you to wait for you to catch your breath.

“It’s okay, ‘m not going anywhere.” Simon assured you as he massaged his fingertips into your thighs.

You nodded, unable to say anything as you played with his hair, your fingers shaky from exertion and from your orgasm. It took a moment for you to start breathing normally and when you finally caught your breath he hovered over you.

Simon looked down at you with soft eyes still full of desire but there was something more within them. They bounced around your face as he brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing his knuckles across your heated skin so softly like you would fall apart from his touch.

He cupped your face, using his thumb to caress your soft skin with calloused hands that have committed violent acts yet he touched you as if he were someone completely different. He took you in, your hair slightly damp from sweat and your lips plush from being kissed, and thought that this is what heaven looked like. He looked at you as if you were the most important thing in his life, like you were something that needed to be worshiped beyond what he could provide, a divine figure worthy of everything good in life.

You leaned into his touch and reached out to caress his face as well. Before you had always wondered what his face looked like, making up random features to put a face to the rough man you worked with everyday, but you were happy that nothing of what you thought had been right.

He was beautiful beyond anything that could be thought of. You were sure he’d disagree, even if he joked that he was handsome, saying that the scars made him ugly but you could never agree with him on that.

Simon leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on your temple. He kissed your scar down to your eyelid and placed one on top of it. He moved to the rest of your face, peppering slow kisses all over it while he continued to caress your cheek with his thumb.

Your chest warmed and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close in a hug that warmed your chest. You ached even more for him, the affection making you roll your hips up into him causing you to gasp when you felt his erection through his pants.

“Needy.” He grunted and gently squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“Please.” You begged barely above a whisper as you rolled your hips against him again.

His eyes darkened and he locked you into another passionate kiss where he let his hands roam down to your shirt. He grabbed the hem and caressed your skin with his fingers before he pulled your shirt off you, tossing it on the floor somewhere far from the bed. He ran his hands over your breasts tweaking your nipples as he placed kisses down your chest, biting and licking to mark you.

“Can’t say no to you.”

Simon kissed a few more times before he leaned back to get a good look at you but he froze.

You were covered in bruises. Most of them had faded and were almost gone from your skin, but there were a few that still held that unhealed darker shade to them. The spot where the rookie had hit you had already formed a fresh bruise that was the size of his fist. It was just the bruises either, it was the cut marks and the burns that were forever etched into your skin.

You had looked at them before this moment a few times, not dwelling on them for very long since you would like to keep your indifference to them in tact.

You looked up at Simon with concern as you noticed the guilt creep back into his eyes. It made your heart ache but you reached out and placed a hand on his cheek making him look back at you with those sad eyes of his.

A soft reassuring smile spread across your face as you caressed his face in an attempt to give him some sort of comfort.

“It looks worse than it is.” You said but he didn’t look convinced.

You took one of his hands and placed it over your new bruise, watching as he looked at you hesitantly, almost as if he were begging you to not make him touch it, but you didn’t listen. You gently pressed his hand on it, the pressure only making your eye twitch as most of the soreness seemed to only come when you were moving.

Simon spread his fingers across your skin, barely touching it with a ghost-like touch that nearly made you squirm. He stared at your bruise for a few more moments before he leaned down and tentatively placed a kiss on top of him. He moved to the others, giving them all a soft kiss as if it would make them disappear.

He rubbed his hands over your sides down to your thighs. The petting and the kissing warmed your skin again and you moved your hips up to meet his again, a satisfied hum leaving you when you felt that he was still hard even after he saw your marks.

He hummed deep in his chest before he held your hips down, continuing to leave kisses all over you. His stubble scratched a certain spot on your stomach and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through your body before a soft giggle left your mouth.

You felt him smile, a very small one, as he looked up at you and your face flushed hot.

“I’m ticklish…” You admitted and watched as a mischievous look flashed in his eyes that made your eyes widened.

“Noted.” He pressed more kisses as he trailed down to your underwear, taking the time to occasionally rub his chin in spots that made you squirm.

“Don’t you dare.”

“‘nother time, love.”

You blinked at the pet name and how easily he seemed to say it that you almost looked past the fact that he just threatened to tickle you. You were about to scold him for it when he dragged his hot tongue over your soaked underwear, taking away any words that you may have said.

A whimper left you as he licked you through the piece of clothing again, his eyes never leaving your face which contorted with pleasure the more he drenched them with his mouth.

Simon played with you like this as you let out soft mewls and whimpers, fueled by the way you squirmed underneath him until the taste of you through your underwear wasn’t enough. He pulled them off of you, not wanting to waste anymore time before he swiped his tongue slowly over your soaked cunt.

He groaned. It was loud and from his chest, as if it had been ripped out of him without a chance for him to even keep it in. He laid your legs over his shoulders and held onto your hips to keep you in place as he shut his eyes to taste you, letting out another groan as he did so. He started out slow but it didn’t last long because as soon as he got the taste of you in his mouth, on his tongue along with the beautiful sounds of your moans, he was lost in the primal need to have you.

He licked you as if he had been starved of this, as if this was the only time he’d ever get the chance to taste you again. His tongue worked on your clit, circling it until it was puffy from the overstimulation and made you whine. He sucked it while his tongue lapped of the juices and he opened his eyes to watch you fall apart so easily from his mouth.

The west sounds from his mouth and from your cunt were sinful, almost pornographic as he added a finger inside of you. Your heart was in your ears as you watched you eat you out with the determined ambition he had when he was on missions. The serious look in his eyes that was so full of desire it made you throw your head back onto his pillow and gripped his sheets so tight your fingers went sore. Your moans were loud no matter how hard you tried to restrain them and you wondered if maybe he was doing that on purpose.

You were already close to your second orgasm again by the time he added another finger. Your thigh squeezed his head as the pleasure tightened in your lower stomach but he didn’t move away, in fact it seemed to make him eat you out faster.

You came in his mouth as a loud moan ripped through your throat. Your back arched off the bed as your eyes rolled the back of your head, your muscles spasming from the intense orgasm and from the continued licks from Simon. He helped you ride it out and you expected him to let you catch your breath but you were wrong.

He didn’t stop once, not as you orgasmed or it left you, causing you to whimper and whine. His eyes were locked onto you as he pushed his nose against your clit while he fucked your hole with his tongue.

You were breathless. It felt like all of the air was being squeezed out of you as your moans became uncontrollable. You didn’t care if anyone else in the base heard you as the pleasure you felt was enough to make you feel like your entire body was floating. You were at his mercy as you writhed underneath him and he was relentless, only taking a millisecond to catch his breath before he was back to eating you out like a wild animal.

Your next orgasm hit you so quickly that your vision went out. Nothing left your mouth as your mouth was open in a silent scream as your body shook and lifted off the bed. You gripped the sheets for dear life, them being the only thing that was keeping you grounded as your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t even tell if you were breathing or not as he continued to lick your overstimulated cunt.

Simon didn’t stop until you were twitching and trying to move your hips away from him, your whimpers and whines sounding too pained for his liking. He sat back, panting heavily as he stared at your limp form, feeling a little too proud of himself as he placed kisses on your inner thighs.

He removed his clothes down to briefs, throwing them away as if they were something undesirable, before he climbed on top of you and trapped you underneath him.

You tasted yourself on his tongue when he locked you into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as your hands ran down his back, tracing any scars you came across while he played with your raw nipples.

Despite the throbbing soreness you felt in your cunt, you still wanted more of him. You wanted to feel all of him and to have him buried deep inside of you until you couldn’t feel anything anymore. It made your stomach flip as you tugged on the band of his briefs, wondering what he could do with his cock if he could make you fall apart so easily with his mouth.

“After all that you still want my cock inside you?” He huffed a laugh in your ear as he went back to attacking your neck. “Dirty thing.”

You nodded, unable to say anything as he rolled his hips into you, his hard cock rubbing against your puffy clit which made you whimper. He held you by the chin and forced you to look at him, his eyes hooded and as he shook his head.

“Use your words.” His other hand pinched your nipple and you whined.

“Please.” You pleaded as you pulled his briefs down his hips. “I want your cock inside me, please.”

“Anything for you.”

Simon pushed your hands away before you pulled his underwear off, his cock finally springing free from its confines. It was red and puffy, the tips leaking beads of precum that you would’ve licked away if you weren’t so needy to have him inside of you. You weren’t surprised by his size. Someone who was as big as Simon Riley had to be packing something as big as his cock was and it only made you want him inside of you more. You were ready to feel all of him, to feel full even if you couldn’t take all of him.

He took his cock in his hand and pumped it a few times before he rubbed the tip on your clit, spreading precum all over you and getting your juices on him. You both hissed at the contact and you arched your back into him in order to feel more of him. You were breathing heavily with anticipation as he pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You gasped and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your fingernails dug into his skin as he held you close to him before he slowly began to push himself inside of you. You moaned as his cock stretched you wider than you ever had been before and even with how wet you were it wasn’t enough to take away the pain. You blinked away any tears as you felt Simon rub comforting circles into your hips with his thumb while he kissed your shoulder.

He let you get used to him before he pushed more of him inside of you, letting out a few grunts of his own as your walls stretched to fit him. Every time he moved, he made sure to leave kisses on your skin and to rub his thumb into your hip to keep you relaxed as you adjusted to his size. Before long, he bottomed out leaving you both breathless as you held onto each other.

You hugged him close to you and he wrapped his arms around you protectively. You both stayed like that for a moment, the full and heavy feeling of his cock inside of you enough to have you flutter around him. You wrapped your legs around his hips and kissed his neck, leaving a few marks of your own which made him shudder.

It wasn’t until the pain had subsided to a dull ache that you rolled your hips into his at a slow pace. Soft whimpers left your mouth as you buried your face in his neck, the sensation almost too much for you to handle.

Simon whispered encouraging words in your ear, rubbing circles into your shoulder blades and back as you set the pace. He was breathing heavily in your ear, letting out soft grunts as he left hot kisses on your shoulder. He kept you in a secure hold with his arms wrapped around you, the warmth from his body being the only other thing you could feel.

Eventually your body betrayed you and you felt the all too familiar stabbing pain in your ribs, but where you left off, Simon picked up. He rolled his hips into you at a steady but gentle pace. He focused on the way you reacted, the small gasps and moans you let out as he moved against you, making sure to keep himself in the right angle so you could feel every good feeling he wanted you too.

The pace made you breathless and had you whimpering, slowly building the pleasure again but it wasn’t enough. You knew that he was capable of more than what he was doing but he was holding back. He didn’t want to hurt you and though you didn’t want him to be too rough, there was another time for that, you could handle more than what he was doing right now. As much as you liked how caring he was being, you wanted him to ruin you in the best way possible, to open you up like no one else has before and make you his.

“Simon,” You moaned and his breath hitched as he looked down at you. “Harder, please.”

“No…”

He kissed you and though he was being gentle with you, you could tell he wanted to go harder, faster than he was so he could chase both of your highs. It was sickeningly sweet how a man who seemed so cold could be this kind to you, even when you both wanted more. His control was impressive though he seemed to have too much of it at the moment.

“I can handle it.” You assured him and he pressed his lips together. “Please, I need you. I need to feel you.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned and stopped moving, causing you to whine.

Simon ran his hands up your thighs and held you behind your knees. His fingers gripped your skin firmly and you looked up at him expectantly. He had a serious look in his eyes as he stared at you before he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes going slightly soft as he sighed deeply.

“You have to tell me to stop if it gets too much.” He warned and you nodded as your stomach flipped.

“Promise.” You kissed him tenderly and rolled your hips into his, causing him to groan.

Simon kissed you back just as passionate before he moved against you. He started out slow again, letting you get used to it before he picked up the pace. His cock slid in and out of you with ease as he nearly pulled himself out all of the way only to slam back into you. He kept your legs in place as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, somehow getting harder at the sight.

You threw your head back and dug your nails into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace hitting the most sensitive spots inside of you. Every thrust knocked the wind out of you and you became a writhing mess underneath him as he didn’t relent for anything. The sounds of your moans mixed with the wet sounds of his cock slamming inside of you and your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t even think to move your hips along with his, so drunk off his cock already that all you could do was lay there and take it.

His cock hit the spot inside of your walls that made you open up for him to go deeper and you begged him to keep going. You lifted yourself up from the bed to feel more of him and nearly cried when the head of his cock kissed your cervix. It felt like he was inside of your stomach and you couldn’t breathe again as your walls clenched so tight around him he let out a moan.

He would’ve laughed at how close you were already but it only made him feel pride in himself that he was the one making you feel this good. He was the only one who got to see you come apart like this, he was the only one who could make you orgasm like this.

“C’mon.” He grunted as he moved to hold your hips, holding you down. “Give it to me.”

He hit that spot on your walls over and over again, even when your legs began to shake. Your vision went blurry from tears and you gripped his arms so tight you were sure you left marks on them as your moans went high pitched. The pleasure became so much that when the orgasm hit you saw stars as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body shook uncontrollably. You went completely limp as you moaned, whimpered and cried out with pleasure that a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

Simon didn’t stop and helped you ride out your orgasm before he smashed his lips against yours. He bit your lip as you cried, licking away your salty tears as he chased his own high that was now starting to build up inside of him as well. He was breathing heavily and you writhed underneath him from overstimulation but he wasn’t going to stop, not when he could feel another build up inside you.

You wondered how long he could go for before he hit that spot again, taking out any thoughts you had as you fell back onto the bed. You were reduced to nothing but cries of pleasure again as he pounded into you.

You were so vulnerable, so beautiful and crying the way you should be crying, out of pleasure, from something good and not from something out of fear. Not only was he keeping you safe he was making you feel better, he was making you feel good. So good that you had already cummed on him four times already.

“No one’s ever gonna touch you again.” He grunted under his breath before he latched his mouth on your neck, sucking your bruised flesh. “Never letting you get hurt again.”

“Simon.” You sobbed and he thrust into you harder.

“I’m here, love.”

His thrust began to turn erratic as he felt himself close to the edge. He was pushed further towards it when you clenched around him again and he found the spot that made you a mess, using it to chase his own high as well. His breath was ragged and he couldn’t help the groans that escaped him when he felt you shake underneath him.

“That’s it, one more. Just one more.” He slurred his words as you clung to him for dear life.

Another orgasm hit you and this one completely ripped through you. It was as if you had an out of body experience, you were floating in the sticky air, gone from Simon’s room as his voice sounded so far away from you as he repeated your name like a mantra.

He thrust into you a few more times before you felt him release hot, sticky liquid inside of you. He gripped the sheets beside your head as he pushed all of his cum into you before he went still, his chest pressing against yours as you both panted like you had run a marathon.

For a moment, you both laid there in each other's arms in silence. Your skin was hot and sticky from your sweat and from Simon’s, but you didn’t mind. You were content with burning your face into the crook of his neck and falling asleep this way as exhaustion caught up to you again. You managed to wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug that he returned immediately.

Simon regained his breath a lot quicker than you. He pushed himself off you and looked down at you, his eyes going soft as he saw the exhaustion in your eyes. He worried that he went too hard before you gave him a smile. He placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you one last time before he slowly pulled out of you.

You whimpered from the movement and you were left feeling empty without him.

You watched him get up from the bed and walk towards the bathroom with heavy eyelids. You shut your eyes when you heard the sink run, finding that his bed was actually pretty comfortable compared to yours, though without him beside you, the chill from the air against your damp skin made you shiver. Time seemed to go by slowly as you waited for him to come back yet when you heard him return you didn’t have any energy to open your eyes until he placed a gentle hand on your thigh.

When you opened them, you saw him use a towel to wipe up the mess between your thighs, causing you to wince from the contact and him to rub his fingers into your skin.

He got up to leave again and you scooted over on his bed to make room for him. The bed was small and you weren’t sure how comfortable either of you would be if you slept together, but you didn’t want to go back to your room. When he came back he laid down on the bed beside you and pulled the blankets over you both before he pulled you into his chest, maneuvering you in a way that your head rested on his chest.

You placed a hand on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I’m going to be okay.” You said after a long period of silence. You looked up at him and he stared down at you with certainty. “Eventually.”

“Still doesn’t mean I won’t worry.” He sighed and you felt him flex his broken hand on your waist.

“You can worry, I just want you to know I’ll be okay.”

You took his hand in yours and pressed your fingers into his palm. You massaged the places between his knuckles, his fingers and anywhere else that might be stiff, working in firm circles to make sure that the job would get done while he watched you with tired eyes.

Simon placed a soft kiss on your forehead and pulled you closer.

“Okay.”

~

Long after you fell asleep, Simon laid there watching your chest rise and fall in the darkness. He held onto you to keep you close to him as studied how relaxed your face looked as you slept peacefully beside him. This wasn’t the first time he had committed the image to memory but after tonight, this would always be burned into his mind until the day he died.

He never expected to sleep with you but he didn’t regret it. Not when you looked at him like you loved him and not when he felt his heart pour so many emotions into the way he had made love to you. He hoped that when you woke up or in the future he could share more moments like this with you, moments where he could lay down beside you and be there for you whenever you had a nightmare. There was so much more he wanted to show you, so many feelings he still had to tell you without saying a word but you need to sleep.

Simon would always carry some guilt inside of him for what happened to you, but knowing that you never blamed him helped him move on from a lot of the self hatred he had towards himself. If you didn’t blame him, then maybe it was okay if he didn’t blame himself.

He dared to place a hand on your cheek, loving the way that your skin felt against his before he placed one last kiss to your forehead.

He let his eyes flutter shut as he listened to your soft breathing, something that he could always fall asleep to but never really had a chance to until now and maybe in the future if you kept him around.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t or not.

Simon would always be there to protect you.

~

Tag list: @lainphotography @littlezarp @simplybellasblog @gills-lounge @simonsdoll @d4z01 @madsothree @illyanam1011 @msecho19 @crazyfandomist @emrzennn @horror102 @maxi-ride @daniquehavinga @alilstressyandlotdepressy

[milkypompon]

The Blind Bet

pairing: Miguel x reader | Inspired by The Bet by guardianangelcas

summary: “One month, you and me. No sex, no touching yourself, no orgasms.” Miguel grins as if he’d already won the bet.

content: Miguel knows exactly how to wind you up and break you down... teasing, enemies to lovers, semi-public touching, fingering, sextape, recording, masturbating... he's watching hehe

wc: 4.5k

How?

How in the hell was it possible that the chances of avoiding this situation were slim to none in the vast multiverse? Annoyingly called the Archno-Humanoid-Poly-Multiverse by the very same man who roped you into a challenge that deprived you of the only good thing after coming back from a grueling mission. 

Gone were the nights of unzipping your Spidersuit to toss it into the hamper before taking a hot shower leaving your skin raw and vulnerable. Then hastily patting yourself dry with a towel that was soon to be repurposed as a rag for under your thighs — in an attempt to catch your or chosen companion’s cum before it seeped into the mattress.

Looking back, Miguel fucking O’Hara crafted his words to reel you in. Hook, line, and sinker. 

–

One month ago.

“I know you’ve been using the interdimensional gizmo at night to visit your… friends.” Per usual, he was nonchalant, scrolling through anomalies on his platform, now touching the ground (a habit you noted when you were in the office with him). As if he didn’t reveal that he’d been tracking your movement with Lyla’s help, who was just as eager to know what you were up to the late hours when any other normal person would be awake. 

But that was the problem in itself, you weren’t human and neither was Miguel. The stupid machine by Alchemax was to blame. Not only the incident result in both of you needing a bump of Rapture daily but it also required a quick fuck to satiate the burning feeling teetering between pain and desire at the pit of the stomach. 

You didn’t reply for a few beats, which was a mistake because the dead air was suffocating. There was no sound other than the occasional beeps from the monitors and dashboard. Even with your heightened senses, Miguel’s breathing was quiet. If his back weren’t turned to you with his shoulders slightly lifting up and down, you would think he was breathing at all. 

“Don’t you have better shit to do than checking my coordinates, O’Hara?” You steal your voice into some semblance of superiority but fail terribly at gaining control over the conversation. 

It was a constant push and pull between you two. Who would tap out first? Who would shoot the first web? Who would sink their teeth in first? Figuratively, you suppose, but also literally because your canines are starting to itch beneath your gums, threatening to unsheathe themselves into fangs. 

“That watch is company property. A company that I happen to own. Therefore, I have the right to know where it is.” Miguel releases an unamused laugh. “I’m not using it to stalk you, you narcissist.”

“Says the one who replaced his dead alternate so he could fuck his wife—” 

Miguel grimaces at your comment before cutting you off, “And it happened to be in a particular universe that wasn’t yours. Care to explain? Or maybe you can just simply confirm my suspicions with a simple yes or no because you don’t seem to be articulate with your words… according to last night.”

Oh.

You forgot to turn off your watch after your debriefing with Miguel. And he heard everything. You had half a mind to tug his shoulder and turn him around just to punch the smirk off of him that you knew was contorting his face. So, you did, or close to at least until he caught your fist and encapsulated it with his own.

“Play nice, nena” Miguel mutters under a slight tug of his mouth. 

The bastard found it amusing, listening to the sounds you made while you were pushed down into the mattress with a man who knew how to use his dick. Or at least good enough to help you sink deep into a dreamless sleep after a day of beating anomalies into a pulp and tossing it through the swirling vortex. 

But you did dream that night, so maybe the nameless man wasn’t as good at maneuvering himself inside of you as you thought. Your mouth went dry as you recollected vivid events in the dream. Of course, it was about your boss. 

You shake your head to ground yourself. “You fucking recorded it! I bet you sat your ass down on your chair and jacked off to me moaning. You disgusting—” 

“The gizmo records everything so I can playback the content to observe the…” Miguel grimaced when he realized he was making the situation worse. “That’s beside the point. I deleted it already.” 

You step back, letting your arms fall to your side but you still keep your hands balled up — the only way to stop yourself from engaging your talons. 

Miguel looks at you with a blank stare, almost bothered. “Did you really think I would’ve saved the video?” 

You scoff, “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You didn’t mean it of course, but something fiery licked at your throat to demolish him in a battle of wit and snarky comebacks. 

Although the man didn’t have a running streak of good morals considering his long-standing chase with the 15-year-old boy who wanted to save his father, Miguel drew the line there – somewhere between not breaking canon and the depravity of voyeurism through a sextape.  

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Whatever, just don’t let it happen again.” 

Again?

That means Miguel has thought about the chances of this situation reoccurring with your head against your pillow, eye-rolling back, muttering incoherent chatter of pleasure, recorded on his company property gizmo. An open welcome for him to display it on his various monitors, big or small, the video would be the same, you split open by a lucky bastard that wasn’t him.  

You wet your lips, feeling his eyes drift down to the pink tip of your tongue. He wants your mind twisting to read between the lines, treating you the way he draws information out of anomalies wreaking havoc. Little do they know Miguel plays just as dirty, creeping into their heads. 

You grimace, “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Miguel hides a chuckle under the guise of clearing his throat. He saunters over to his work chair, leveled closer to the ground more than usual, and makes himself comfortable. 

Any other person would’ve relished the idea of gleaning over his broad figure, but it was a false sense of dominance on your end. He knew it and so did you. You have to give it to him because it would be working if you didn’t know him so damn well.

If you weren’t warming up beneath your Spidersuit, you would’ve been insulted by his attempt to reel you in… 

Into what exactly? 

“That!” You shoot your arms toward him and almost whine. “This is your second time trying to set me up and make myself look like an idiot!”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping track?” Now there was a full-blown grin on Miguel’s face. “Just like how you keep mental tick marks of how many people you’ve had sex with this week?” 

At this point, you weren’t entirely sure what you felt, but it was between a fever and a cold sweat. Your cheeks burned with color or were devoid of it with the way he said ‘sex’ to you or even asked the question – as if he wanted to know what you had for breakfast this morning before the debriefing took place.

Miguel was no holy virgin either, so he wasn’t one to talk. He was a ravenous lover, not in the sense of intimacy, but in carnal desire. There was not much to blame other than how his DNA was altered to contain spider genes, hence creating the need to let off some steam with anyone who could bear his child. 

But he had morals and an even amount of self-restraint. He wasn’t about to hop into a dimension with brothels to fulfill his needs. No matter how glaring or bothersome it was to feel his hard-on against his suit.

Instead, Miguel had a ‘roster’, as Peter B. liked to call it. It was a list of Spiderpeople he rotated throughout the week. The arrangement was a simple act of mutualism. He could rely on them to simulate the chosen partner being filled with his seed, while he helped them get their rocks off for the night. 

You had a similar routine, Miguel observed, considering that you had the same canon event as him. Not to mention, you happen to log off from the watch on the dot.

Except for last night, when you’d left it on.

 “You’re one to talk, O’Hara.” You dig your heels into the ground, watching his brows sit above his dark eyes. “Swinging your ass around Nueva York as if you haven’t fucked at least a quarter of the women in this compound.”

“So, you do keep count. Not of your escapades but of mine.” Miguel leans back into the chair. 

“Mm, right because everything is about you,” You snarl and take a stride between his thighs.

“Fine, then let’s make it about you. You can’t control yourself if your life depended on it,” He says in a low voice, a timbre that makes shivers run down your spine.

Poets, or in your case, blind idiots, say that the third time’s the charm. And although this was his third time trying the make you an idiot, there was nothing particularly charming about it. 

He knows you wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to one-up him in a challenge. It didn’t matter if it was about who could wrap up an anomaly case the fastest or in indirect ways of seeing which new batch of Spiderpeople under your or his supervision would improve the quickest, it never got to the point of this. 

It was an act of chalking up your sex life to simply win another challenge and gain bragging rights.

The better, more mature part of you should walk away from the situation, but there’s a seedling of a dark fantasy that was determined to see if Miguel would play along. 

Maybe it wasn’t even about winning anymore, but you’d rather choke on your own tongue than admit that. To see him breathe when you breathe was palatable enough. 

“One month, you and me. No sex, no touching yourself, no orgasms.” Miguel grins as if he’d already won the bet.

–

Present Day

In the canteen, You grip the tray housing your lunch, a blue Spiderman 2099 burger with a side of fries shaped like webs. The mindless chatter of your coworkers was comforting until there was one whose presence stood out the most. So much so that the figure garbed with a pink, fluffy robe and baby carrier snatched your peripherals.

“Heyyy!” Peter B. drawled and lightly bounced the furious curls of red attached to his chest.

“Pretty patty,” Mayday giggled and pointed to the burger.

“Little Red’s been watching Spongebob.” He grins and settles onto the seat across from you, careful of sitting too close for Mayday’s chubby hand reaching over for a fry. “Speaking of which–”

You bring a finger up to your lips, successfully shutting him up. After years of working under the Spider Society, you made sure there was a carved-out section of your schedule to discuss missions. At the canteen with a hot meal in hand wasn’t the time and place.  

“You’re just like him. When there’s food around, the rest of the world disappears.” Peter plucked the fry from Mayday’s hand. “Big no, no. Mama won’t be happy if you eat greasy num nums. 

He proceeds to pop the greasy num num into his mouth and you roll your eyes with a small smile.

“Wonder how ya don’t get along with him, kid. Miguel, I mean. Almost clawed my face off when I went into his office while he was eating empanadas,” He remarks.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, why are you here? Haven’t seen you in the canteen since you’ve been eating lunch with MJ and Little Red back in your universe,” You note.

“Right, right. About that.” Peter takes a pregnant pause. It was just enough time to pick up what he was about to ask.

You groan in frustration. “I am not gonna switch shifts with you again. You always manage to set up your dates with MJ when you have the worse missions.”

Peter pouts. The grown man has the audacity to pout. But, you can’t help but sigh and slowly nod because it reminds you of when Mayday motions towards your webslingers, hoping to persuade you. 

“Fine, but I’m doing it for Red.”

He snaps his fingers. “I owe you one, kiddo.”

A gruff voice that’s all too familiar calls out to him, “Peter–” 

He fidgets with the straps of the baby carrier before standing up. The sound of the metal screeching against the floor makes you wince. Somehow, he sidesteps Miguel and grins at him.

“Don’t miss me too much, O’Hara. Got a date night with the wife, but you’re in good hands tonight.”

And just like that, Peter pats Mayday’s head and steps through the portal without another word. You and Miguel stand there without a sound while watching the rip through the multiverse sew itself shut.

You shift your weight from foot to foot and decide to break the silence. “Does Peter know?”

Miguel shakes his head. “‘Bout the bet? Of course not, keeping this stupid thing between us to my grave.”

“One that you made by the way.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” He mutters. Miguel hates how quickly you snap back into place to shove a knife deep in his gut to get a reaction out of him. It’s a habit, practically second nature now. 

He rakes his eyes over your face as if etching every single slant and angle to his mind. A few flecks of salt from the fries were sprinkled along the curve of your lips. He wonders how it’d taste if he licked it before dipping his tongue into your mouth, licking the sweet saliva pooling there, waiting for him. 

Or how it’d seep out as he guides his cock into your mouth. He almost groans at the thought.

Lyla materializes his watch and bounces to your shoulder. “Hey, pretty lady! I saw Peter swap his name for yours for tonight.”

You steal Miguel’s words. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He turns his back to you and throws his head over with a nod. “C’mon, back to my office. I need to fill you in about the anomaly.”

You trudge behind him because walking beside him seems too intimate and leading the way would show the slight tremble of your legs. Besides, opting to fall a few feet after him gives you a good view of his ass. Not that you were looking.

Lyla imitates your strides despite floating above the ground. “Whatcha thinking about, babes?”

You run a hand over your face to cover the flush. “Thinking about how to catch the anomaly.”

She giggles in a foxy tone. “I haven’t said anything about the mission.”

“Oh, right–” 

You’re met with a firm back pressed onto your chest.

Miguel juts his chin over to the display monitors. “Take my seat. I’m gonna need some coffee for this job. You?” 

With a silent laugh, you shake your head at his offer. Working with him for, god knows how long, introduced you to his quirks. One of them is how he takes his coffee. It was a deep black that light barely penetrated. On rare occasions it did, you could his constant frown reflected on it.

Miguel O’Hara was as bitter as his coffee. Go figure. 

You slide into the chair, surprised by how comfortable the cushion is. It was probably engineered to keep his ass snug for hours on end as he monitored the universe to make sure it didn’t collapse, or something along those lines.

A few feet behind you, he waved his hand. “Lyla, the explainyinfo thing.”

Her heart-shaped glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose. “Gotcha, bossman.” 

In front of you are displays of Adriano Tummino, better known as the Vulture from the Renaissance era. He nested inside an abandoned warehouse, trying to make sense of the world that was no longer dipped in sepia and scribbles of ink.

“Don’t know how he managed to get out the first time.” Miguel sips his so-called coffee. Should’ve just chewed on the beans, you thought. 

“Crafty man,” You quip, earning you a short puff of air from his nostrils.

He grabs the back of the chair and swivels it for you to face him. You pressed yourself against it, trying to take up as little room as possible, but he was close. Your legs fall limp on either side of his thighs as he leans down to your height.

Deja vu hits you, then replaced by swirling vertigo. 

You and Miguel were in this exact position a month ago albeit in reverse. 

“That crafty man needs our undivided attention during the stakeout. Prepare yourself however you need to.” His warm breath, stained with the scent of coffee, caressing your lips.

A few beeps and flashes of light bounce off from his watch. It catches your eye as your name pops up above arcs of lines that rose.

“Careful, nena. Your heart rates spiking.” Miguel’s fangs poked out from the edge of his lip, giving you a small smile. Your neck itched at the thought of feeling it sink down into your jugular before he lapped up at the twin holes. 

To make sure neither of you cheated on the bet, you suggested giving both ends of the party access to each other’s heart rate monitors on the watch. Because of his snarky remark, which could’ve been a serious suggestion now in hindsight, about setting up a camera feature. It made you scoff… and turned on.

“Breathe in and out slowly. Even out your heartbeat.” Miguel warned.

There was nothing more you wanted to grab the back of his neck and shove his face into your pussy. That’ll shut him up.

And get you off.

You reach the tip of your toes onto the ground and give it a hard push, sending you rolling back a good few inches. The short distance was still suffocating, but it was enough to let you press your thighs together – the seams of your Spidersuit rubbed against your clit, sending small pulses throughout your body.

But stopping before his watch indicated another spike in your pulse. You’re aware of his eyes on you until he rips it off.  

Miguel straightens himself up before the Spiderman mask wraps around his face. He tried to hide the grin under it but the amusement slipped through. 

Alerts resounded on his gizmo. For a good second, you thought it was about you. That alone would’ve sent you into cardiac arrest. But it was simply a detection of the Vulture’s universe. 

He was on Earth-616B. 

Peter B.’s universe.

Funny.

You fiddle with your gizmo, a bright shower of neons bounced off of you as the portal opened up. Adrenaline coursed through your veins. It wasn’t ideal to have jitters when the mission was to birdwatch the Vulture next to the man you were deprived of. 

Miguel headed in first with you in tow. The sun was about set over the building both of you were perched on. He couldn’t help but think about how Peter ditched him to go on a date with MJ on a night like this.

“There,” You snapped him out of his thoughts. Below you was a crumbling building surrounded with shards of glass from the shattered windows. It was easy to keep an eye on the Vulture while he wrote chicken scratches on the floor – plans of creating primitive technology. 

He grabbed your wrist and tugged you down next to him. With a finger to his lips, he indicated to you to keep quiet.

You whisper-shouted, “I’m not your subordinate.”

“You saying that just proved you wrong.”

That shut you up for a few hours. It was dark out by now. The sky was empty of stars, but the city lights sparkled enough to keep you entertained for a little while longer.

“Can’t we just grab him and go? What’s the whole ‘stake out’ plan for?” You airquoted. 

Miguel pressed his shoulder against yours to keep a low voice. “If he was able to bust out the first time, we need to figure out what he’s making to combat his machine.” 

You hated that he was right but your muscles were starting to cinch together from crouching. If you stood up to stretch, the Vulture would spot you through his goggles. So, you opted to roll your head back a few times.

In Miguel’s peripheral, he saw the expanse of your neck covered by the skintight spandex, stretching as you shifted. It looked small, he thought. How easy it would be to wrap his hand around and gently squeeze it to keep you quiet. Instead, he clamped it around your waist, pulling you to rest your back on his chest. It was loose enough to let you wiggle out of his grasp while still feeling the warmth crawling down to where you needed it most. 

“Quit moving.” 

The past few weeks without any form of release between your legs was agonizing. This was quite the most you’ve been touched in a while. If his fingers crawled a few inches down, he’d feel the damp fabric slick with your arousal. 

“Y-You’re cheating, O’Hara. Don’t you fucking dare–” You snarl in a low whisper.

“Ay coño… Fuck the bet,” He mumbles close to you, his clothed length pressing against the curve of your ass. There was a moan threatening to bubble up if he put on any more pressure. It was too much and yet not enough. “Did you really think Peter was too busy to do this damned stake-out with me tonight? He’d bring out his baby just to be a part of a mission.”

You threw your hands over the railing, trying to stabilize and ground yourself with what little resilience you had left as you were nestled on your knees with him close to rutting up to you. You knew he didn’t have the balls to do it, not because he’d lose, but because he wanted you to fall apart in his hands. 

“Off… Get off.” You swallow. Every part of you was trembling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take what he was willing to hand out. And all you had to do was–

“Just ask, nena.” The drawl of his voice made you dizzy, your head fell back to his shoulder. “Ask me to sink my fingers in that pretty pussy of yours. Come on my fingers and I won’t count it against you.” He offers you a slight reprieve with the olive branch.

You chew your bottom lip in contemplation, a million thoughts dipping in and out of your mind.

Fuck this. Fuck the bet. Fuck him… up, down, and around. You want Miguel in every single way. 

You arch your back, the plush of your bottom rubbing up against his clothed cock. 

It takes everything in him to stop your movement. “Easy, easy, yeah? Use your words. It’s just you and me,” He murmurs deep into you.

“And Big Bird on steroids below us!” You try to snap back, but your voice shakes with embarrassment. 

“Stupid bird’s not gonna see us as long as you behave.” Miguel moistens his lips with the tip of his tongue. He was choking on the thought of laying you down on his bed to taste every last drop you’ll give him, then fuck you senseless. But this awkward position with your back pressed against his chest while both of you kneeled toward the railing would be enough. 

You reach to the back of your neck where the zipper for the Spidersuit dangled at every attempt of pulling it down. Miguel was of no help, his fingers idly tapped a rhythm on your hips. You felt him vibrate with amusement at your expense.

You toss your head back to rip your mask off and glare at him only to be met with his mask. 

With a last chuckle, he tugs the zipper down, watching the spandex pool around your waist. 

“Careful. Not everyone is a billionaire with infinite tech–”

It wasn’t enough. He gave it one last pull past the curve of your ass. 

You’re about to scold him again but you hear him swallow. Despite not being able to see his face, you could already imagine it.

“Ay… Not even wearing panties under this,” Miguel breathes, grabbing a handful of the plump skin. 

“Gets itchy,” You protest.

You can feel him molding the tender flesh into his palm. “Fuck– I know I see you wearing your suit every day, but… God, this is—”

Miguel’s suit retracts, exposing his skin just below his wrist bone. Something in your core bubbles up, a mixture of dread and arousal because you knew deep down that if he started now, you’d find yourself crawling back for more. Back into his office. Back into his bed. With his warm hand cupping over your pussy on the roof of an abandoned building it didn’t matter where he dragged you along. 

“You’re dripping, dios mío— all over my fucking fingers. You’re so wet. Just for me, huh?” Miguel digs his nose into the crook of your neck, his breath leaving you hot. “Working hard every day to save the universe. Not a single person stopped to give you gratitude. You just need someone to take care of your little cunt.”

And god, you want him to do it. 

“Well, too bad. This is a thankless job.” He slaps your bare sex with a shlick, his fingers grazing your clit ever. 

No matter how much you jut up to encourage him to do anything, his grip on your waist was too strong. There’s nothing to do but follow his pace and feel whatever he is willing to give you. 

“Down, take it easy. And stay focused, I still need you to keep an eye on the anomaly.” Miguel cranes his cheek down to nuzzle you. It was a poor attempt to coo your overwrought body, how did he expect you to remember what you came here for?

“Fine,” You say in a gruff voice.

“Good girl.” Miguel pulls the lips apart with two fingers, coating it with you before pressing it in. Each knuckle made you suck in a deep breath. It feels like you’ve run out of air. Floating now, you think. But the moment he curls his fingers to that spot, you’re reeling back onto earth. “There, isn’t it?”

He slides out of you, flurries of curses are caught in your throat. He knew how to drag this out. He brings the slick to the edge of your mouth. “Open for me.”

He groans as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. He wanted to taste you, but he wasn’t going to. Not yet. It didn’t feel right if it wasn’t right from the source, but that’ll have to wait. He wants you to collapse in on yourself first before he does anything else.

“Miguel.”

“I know, nena.” 

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 Cramped

Abduction CW: Toys, abduction, claustrophobia

(Reader's) skin chaffed against the plastic tub they were folded into. They couldn't see what was going on, but it felt like their container was on wheels, and it occasionally would hit a rock or snag on a bump, jostling (Reader's) body uncomfortably.

They didn't remember what happened, they were walking towards their apartment after work when there was a sudden pain across the back of their neck, then they woke up inside what felt like a large plastic tote. There were holes drilled in the side so (Reader) wouldn't suffocate, but something large and plastic was fixed to their head, filling their throat and preventing (Reader) from screaming for help.

And the worst part wasn't the bare skin being rubbed raw, but the hot arousal between their thighs. Even if there was a light, (Reader's) body was contorted in a way where they wouldn't be able to look down at themselves to investigate what was going on. Their skin itched from the wetness as they came over and over again, being overstimulated without end. (Reader) wanted to cry, but even with the little hole near their face there wasn't enough oxygen with how (Reader) was panting through their nose.

Their legs were pressed into their stomach so tightly that their feet were falling asleep and (Reader) couldn't get a solid angle to kick or squirm.

"Break time!" A familiar voice cheerfully quipped as the lid popped off loudly. The sudden light hurt (Reader's) eyes, illuminating the woman like a halo. "Do you need to go potty? Or have some water?" She held out a water bottle. This woman was one of (Reader's) regular customers, a tiny little thing who always shook and stuttered at the checkout.

Her trembling fingers unlatched the gag, pulling the attached dildo out of (Reader's) throat. The sensation of the warm plastic dick sliding out over (Reader's) tongue was accompanied by another orgasm, spilling out between their legs and mixing with their sweat. (Reader's) abductor's eyes went wide, and she had to bite her lip to prevent a giggle from escaping.

"Why...?" Was all (Reader) could get out.

"I'm sorry about this, sweety! But you'll be a lot happier when we get to our new home." She brought the bottle to (Reader's) lips, bending at an angle where (Reader) could see up her skirt; see her soaked underwear. "It was really hard getting you here, but it was worth it. You're worth it."

Her eyes violated (Reader's) sore body, but (Reader) was too weak to cover themselves up. As (Reader) drank from the bottle, the woman reached down, grabbing something and tugging. There was something in (Reader's) ass.

They yelped, splashing water over their face as they suddenly became aware of the thing in their butt. (Reader) had been so focused on the electrical pulses across their nerves forcing them to cum that they hadn't paid attention to the foreign object in their backside. She pulled harder, a bead plopping out.

"Please stop.."

The toy taped to their front was still on, rhythmically throbbing against their swollen and irritated sex. (Reader) shook as tears threatened to fall. However, this seemed to excite to woman more.

"I followed you home, with this big, two person tub. It was difficult finding one that was big enough to fit a person, but also small enough to prevent any wiggle room. I'm sorry that it's cramped in there, but I couldn't give you any room to struggle! You should be impressed, I got ya with my stun gun and had you fall into the bucket! I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to carry you in my arms.. but I've been weight training, so one day.." She began rambling, hyper fixating on the way (Reader's) asshole puckered and clenched as she continued pulling out the anal beads.

A phone beeped in the woman's pocket, distracting her. "Ope, looks like we've got to get a move on!" The toy was roughly shoved back into (Reader). They cried out in a wave of pain and pleasure, cut off as the fake cock was forced back down their throat; it's textured veins and bumps stimulating (Reader's) mouth as the gag was locked into place.

She placed a loving kiss on (Reader's) sweaty forehead, ignoring the quivering of their thighs as (Reader) failed to fight off another climax, adding to the puddle in their bucket.

"We'll be home soon~"

The lid was clicked back into place, enveloping (Reader) in darkness once more.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is… Asking, “Do you want a blanket?” (Prompt by @thefreakandthehair)

wc: 952 | Rated: T | cw: Hospital setting, mild descriptions of injuries and general hospital stuff, physical pain, one mention of blood

Tags: Post-s4, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Hospital

'Hospital Blankets'

“Steve? Hey, Steve?”

Steve is pulled out of a restless slumber by Eddie’s stage whispering. A twinge in his back fully rouses him as he remembers exactly where he is – in Hawkins General, bent up like a pretzel on what is quite possibly the world’s hardest chair, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his underwear. He blinks harshly, his vision blurry as he looks in the direction of the chattering, dark-headed form lying in the bed in front of him.

“Huh?” he grunts, his voice thick with sleep as he becomes very much aware of the overall pain radiating over his whole body.

His throat burns too, even from a single word. He instinctively reaches a hand up to the reddened scar there – already a formed habit – only to scratch himself with his patient wristband.

“Do you want a blanket?” Eddie continues, his weakened voice indicating he is barely conscious, let alone aware of Steve’s discomfort.

Steve arches his back this time but it causes his chewed-up sides to ache, the bandages stiffening and contorting. Their tacky borders pinching at the already tight skin and scar tissue.

He gives up and slumps back in the chair, clutching the armrests for dear life as a twang shoots directly up his spine to his head. He runs a hand through his hair, impossible to keep from flopping in his face considering all he can do is give himself a goddamn sponge bath these days.

He should have just listened to Robin (and more than a few disgruntled nurses) when they begged him to stay in his own room.

But his room feels empty. Big and dark, just like his family home but a little more white and clinical smelling. It gives him nightmares. If he manages to settle enough to sleep that is…

It’s kinda hard when your friends are scattered throughout the bowels of the local hospital, all in varying states of distress meanwhile, outside the world has half caved in.

“Steeeve,” Eddie whines this time as he repeats, “Do you want a blanket?”

He half dry-sobs his query and Steve has no choice but to shimmy upright – thankfully, the slippery cover of his stupid seat helps him up this time.

Blanket… he finally considers and finds himself stifling a shiver.

He didn’t think to bring a blanket with him as he was much too focused on getting out of bed and down the hall to Eddie’s room. A room that is much colder than his own, which the occupant clearly knows.

Eddie’s fist is balled up in his blankets, offering them up as he raises his shaky arm.

“No,” Steve says softly, shaking his head and waving him away.

Eddie needs it more.

With a herculean effort, Steve moves the chair a few inches closer to the bed, hoping it isn’t scraping the floor or tangling up any of the wires and tubes hooked up to beeping machines – god knows where they each begin and end. His sides all but seize up as he sits back down and forces himself to correct his posture.

“But you’re cold,” Eddie frowns, his voice impossibly small.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests.

Eddie’s weak hand punches at his banket in a haphazard swish motion.

“Get into bed with me…” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Rest with me, sweetheart.”

His head lolls to the side and Steve huffs out a laugh. Eddie is certainly on one hell of a cocktail of meds, mixed with the overall exhaustion that must come from almost dying. Steve can barely keep his own eyes open and he wasn’t anywhere near as close to it.

His heart thuds in his chest as thoughts of Eddie’s almost lifeless body rush back to his sleepy brain.

Dustin’s sobs… Robin scrambling to tear up clothes and sheets from the Upside Down version of the Munson’s trailer to make bandages… Nancy forcing everyone to focus as she devised a game plan, stopping every few moments to shoot down undead bats…

Steve screws his eyes shut and stands, bracing his arms on the sides of the chair before swiftly moving them to the bed for purchase.

At least Eddie’s right side is a little less banged up – but only just enough, Steve thinks as he hikes back the three warm layers of blankets enough to sit himself down on the bed. He swings his legs up next, clenching his jaw as every muscle in his body aches and pains from what transpired however many days ago.

The bed is a tight fit, but Steve doesn’t mind. The mattress is perhaps a fraction more comfortable than the chair, but he soon warms as he settles down and rights the blankets, smoothing them out for good measure and double-checking he hasn’t disturbed Eddie too much.

His body warms almost instantly as he rests his head beside Eddie’s on his pillow, positioned close enough that he can feel frizzed dark curls tickling his cheek. Eddie’s wispier than he expected and smells of the generic hospital soap – but at least the dried and caked-up blood is gone.

“That’s good…” Eddie coos, turning his head to face Steve, those tickling tendrils now replaced with a soft woosh of his breathing.

He can see the scar on Eddie’s cheek now. The bandage patch has been removed, exposing raw stitches today. Steve sighs, relieved by the smallest of steps forward.

Eddie can’t do much more than reach his hand out. And Steve takes it, interlacing their fingers despite the heart monitor clipped onto Eddie’s right index finger.

“Blanket’s... warm…” he mutters, nodding as he feels slumber tugging at him once again.

Eddie hums in agreeance and lightly squeezes his hand.

[catiuskaa]

under the weather.

SUMMARY: is that a sneeze what he’s hearing? unnaceptable! changbin will take care of his sick little bunny... no chance of escaping.

WC: 0.8k

CW: a quirky attempt at humour, and really fluff! will rot your teeth! ^^

REQUESTED! here by my pookie @deadcrow-donteat, hope you get well soon and you like what I’ve come up with! <3

[☆★☆★☆]

It was difficult to say, but it had to be the loud slam of the bathroom door flying open that gave it away.

“Baby?” Changbin had been getting ready for a long session in the studio with the boys. “You ok?” He voiced loudly, and when he didn’t get a reply right away, he wasn’t so sure about leaving now.

You looked… well, um. Definetely not your best. Paler than usual. Droopy, reddish eyes that struggled to stay awake stared back at him.

He craddled your cheek with one of his hands, and you sighed, leaning into him, his body looking like the most perfect weighted blanket anyone could ever wish for.

“sick.” you muttered with a hoarsh voice.

“Oh, my poor bunny,” he cooed at you, and you blinked at him, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket you owned. “Feeling cold?” You hummed, doozing off when his hand stroked your cheeks, then softly touched your forehead.

He leaned in and pressed his lips on your forehead. Too hot. Changbin clicked his tongue, leaving his bag on the floor. “Let’s get you to bed. Binnie’ll go fetch the thermomether, yeah?”

His voice sounded so sweet that there was nothing else for you to do than flush the toilet and sickly waddle your way back to bed, throwing yourself at it like a lifeless body.

Changbin came back in less than a minute, and you were almost asleep. He shook his head, smiling softly. How couldn’t he stop thinking about how cute you looked, all cuddled up in bed, when you were this sick?

No further comments.

He bent down at your side. “Bunny?” You nodded softly, and he couldn’t hold back a toothy grin. “Medicine.”

Changbin had to hold back a loud snort when you frowned. “Bunny, it’s just for a moment. C’mon. For me, please?”

You gazed at him, then squinted your eyes.

“Just ‘cause you cute.”

He snickered, handing you the glass with those god-awful powders that allegedly taste like lemon —only to people that have never tasted lemon before, or any fruit, by any means—. You drank it with a groan, then made a silly face, disgusted by the taste.

Changbin patted your head, and you pouted at him, sick eyes gazing lovingly.

“What?” He knew he had to be blushing when you smiled cheekily.

You scooched up closer to him. He didn’t like the face you made, traces of guilt lingering on your beautiful face.

He couldn’t have that!

“You’re gonna be late for the studio.” You whispered in a low voice, taking his hand and fidgeting with it, much bigger than yours.

But instead, he tutted at you. “Nuh-huh.” He shook his head, then he got closer to your face, and booped your nose. “What if you suddenly combust? I can't just leave now! You’re sick.” Changbin explained, almost as if you couldn’t figure out that by yourself, and you rolled your eyes, a silly smile creeping out.

Yeah. Much better.

“But you called the boys already.”

He snorted. “The boys won’t mind. They like you better than me.”

The thermomether beeped after a couple of seconds. His face contorted in what seemed like shock.

“What is it?” You frowned, confused and slightly worried.

“Oh my god. You… you’re going to die.”

A loud “huh?” left your lips instantly. He turned the thermomether so you could see it for yourself.

“You’re at 38 degrees! You’re frozen inside!!”

You whined loudly, and he laughed giddily.

“That’s fucking Celcius, you dingus.”

You rolled onto your other side, and he stood up, laying a knee on the bed to see your face, but you covered it with the closest pillow next to you.

“JYP will kill me if you stop going to work, mister.”

Changbin cackled loudly.

“JYP can't kill me. His sweet dreams performance? Maybe. But not him.” He couldn’t even finish the sentence without laughing.

He tenderly moved the pillow away from your face.

“I called the boys already. I’ll just go by later. That ok, love?”

Your heart softened at the way his brown eyes looked at you.

You groaned, sick and grumpy.

“Snuggles.”

Tugging at his shoulders, you unstabilized him enough for him to fall next to you.

Changbin giggled, and you tutted at him, a finger above his lips. “Shh.” You murmured teasingly, and he smirked, lightly gracing his teeth on your index.

Eventually, you know he had fallen asleep, both of you now a mix of tangled legs and linked hands that rested in between your bodies.

A text dinged loudly, and you moved as much as you could with Changbin’s strong grip on your body to fetch your phone.

> hann☆♪

that idiot is down bad for you girl

marry that simp soon! ㅋㅋㅋ

You snorted, quickly typing a reply and turning your phone on mute.

Staring at Changbin, you sighed lovingly, falling asleep aswell.

Maybe Jisung had just given you a crazy idea.

~Kats, who wanted to type something and is actually surprised that she managed in just one sit.

[sturnioloshacker]

in labour - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended. i have no idea what it’s like to be pregnant or how labour works but i hope this is something along the lines of it!

summary: he may be stressed, but vinnie comforts you while you’re pushing out your little miracle 

the air thickened with anticipation as nurses and midwifes surrounded you as the time came closer to pushing out your little miracle. vinnie stood by your side, tightly holding your hand as you cried in agony, the pain of the contractions suddenly getting all too much for you to handle. little beads of sweat lined vinnie’s forehead, the tense moment becoming real. with each push, your face contorted in pain and your lips contorted into all different shapes to scream and cry. vinnie was determined to be a pillar of strength, even though he himself is stressing out of his mind.

“you’re doing great, sweetheart. you’ve got this. i love you so much.”

“keep going, you’re so close. just a bit more and we’ll finally meet our sweet angel.”

you grabbed his hand even tighter as your breathing became ragged. vinnie fought the urge to look away, his own anxiety taking over. the beads of sweat slowly started falling down his forehead, the tension in the room getting heavier with every passing second. as the pushing became harder and more painful, vinnie took a deep breath and locked eyes with you, trying to channel all of his love and support.

“you’re doing so well, love. you’re so brave. i know it hurts but it will be over before you know it. i know that it’s also scary that we’re going to be with child soon but we’re in this together. We’ve got each other. i love you and i can’t wait to raise our little girl together.”

you managed a weak smile between pushes, finding peace in his words. the room echoed with the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, punctuated by her determined efforts. vinnie, though feeling the weight of the moment, kept his focus on her. 

“you're almost there, just a few more pushes." his voice cracked with emotion, but he maintained his composure.

in the final moments, the screams became whimpers as the newborn’s cries filled the room. vinnie’s legs wobbled as he made his way to the nearest chair. falling and sinking into it, he put his hands over his face, the emotions getting the better of him. the nurse placed your baby into your arms, your whimpers soon turning into tears of joy and happiness as you softly graze your fingertips over your little girl’s face. vinnie brings his wobbly self to you as he watches over his two beautiful girls, marvelling at the new chapter you both have just begun.

“just so you know, we’re sharing her. she’s my mummy too, don’t you forget it.”

[badnoahmens]

I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 4

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: approx. 3.7k

A/N: This fic has been a sloooow burn, so maybe it’s time to change the pace? Thank you to everyone who has kept up with these updates to far, I’ve been uninspired and your kind words have been the only reason I have been writing this 🖤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The noise of sirens rang in your head, bouncing in your skull. It took minutes before the blur from eyes started to fade away, the sounds of the world coming into the correct frequency.

There was something sharp and uncomfortable poking into your side which made you squirm, still unable to fully open your eyes.

There was a crackle and some movement to your left, murmurs growing louder as each second ticked by. There was a trickle of warmth running down your face, your arm, and now that you think of it, most of your body.

The sharp pain to your left grew stronger, causing you to lurch forward and scream, the sudden pain contorting your insides into an excruciating puzzle.

The buzzing grew louder, and the lights surrounding you shone brighter than a second ago. There were noises of people and machines and cars and just about everything else that made your head spin even more, making the dizziness unbearable.

Without thinking, you twist to the side, upheaving the contents of your stomach onto the floor, leaning through an opening that wasn’t there a second ago.

You could feel arms pulling and twisting at you, and you couldn’t do anything but succumb to their will.

As the tugging of limbs pulled you from a twisted metal cave, the trance of consciousness wavered, and eventually fell silent.

The incessant beeping is what awoke you, the tight restrictions of medical tubes wrapping your arms came next. Your eyes blink slowly, bringing into focus the white clinical walls that surround you. A shadowy figure was by your side, details of their face too distorted from your blurred vision to make out who it was.

As you begin to twist, the figure moves, coming closer to you, making it easier to make out their features. It’s your friend, the one you haven't seen in weeks, the one you thought that you should tell about your dates with Noah, the same friend who came to the Bad Omens show with you way back when - all of two weeks.

Her face looks like fear being masked by a fake sense of confidence, it was easy to tell that she was putting on a brave face as if not to scare you.

She calls your name, and you respond with a slight smile.

“What on earth happened?” she asked, voice laced with worry, a hand finding their way to rub soothingly on the bare skin of your arm.

“I think…. My car… I pulled out in front of someone?” you ask, still unsure yourself, finding it difficult to make sense of the flash of memories from that moment.

She takes a moment, looking over your bandages, the tubes sticking out of you, and the drip that steadily held the pain at bay.

“Well that was kind of a stupid thing to do” she laughed, and gave you a look that you were all too used to.

You chuckle in response, her humour was something that always made you smile. The sarcastic jokes between you two growing up had become the love language of your friendship.

It was in this lull of silence that there was a knock at the door. Both your heads tilted to view who entered in.

You have a fond smile, as much as you could manage in this state, to Noah as he walked in, who looked like his eyes almost fell from their sockets. With a quick few steps, he was by your side, sitting opposite your friend.

If Noah looked shocked to see you, your friend looked like she just saw a ghost. He face didn’t move a muscle, eyes glued to Noah as she watched him take in the image of you in the hospital bed.

It was then when it clicked; you still hadn’t told her about everything.

It had all happened so fast, and you thought you were doing the right thing. Keeping your meetups private was you trying to be respectful of Noah.

Right now though, it would probably be best if your best friend had known what you had been up to.

Noah calls your name, bringing you out of the daze you were in. He looks at you with a worry stricken face.

“It’s okay, I’m okay… I think” you trail off. Your hand pats the top of his, that was hesitantly wavering on the side of the bed. Just as you feel the awkward silence begin, a doctor enters, flashing a glance between the three of you.

“You’re mostly right” he said, referring to your comment. “Lost a bit of blood, got a few cracks in the ribs, and you were severely dehydrated.”

The doctor seemed very relaxed about the state you were in, giving a strange sense of comfort. If he was calm, then you should be too.

“You’re going to need a hand moving around though. Your abdominal muscles will hurt like hell for a while. Is there someone who can assist you with daily tasks?” He asked, flicking through the clipboard of notes that hung by the end of your bed.

“Yes, she’ll be looked after” Noah responds, before even letting you speak.

“Great! You’ll be discharged soon. Take it easy and come back for a check up in a few weeks” the doctor stated, then exited the room.

“Noah…” you look at him, but he simply shakes his head.

“I’m the reason you’re here, I’ll be the reason you’ll recover just fine”. He sits back in the chair, glancing at the machines by your side. His jaw clenched as he looks away again.

“It’s not your fault” you say almost sternly, shifting as you try to sit yourself upright. The pain that tears through your abdomen makes you gasp and fall back, wincing and squeezing your eyes shut. It takes a moment for it to settle, and once it does, you let out a shaky breath.

As your eyes peel open, you look back at your friend. It was as though she was frozen. A statue. Eyes still locked on Noah, mouth slightly ajar.

“Is he the one who hit your car?!” she whispered, looking at you in a not-so-hushed tone. Her expression looked almost angry as she glanced at him again.

“No! No that’s not it!” It almost made you laugh, which hurt your chest.

“After the show the other week” you wince again, pushing in your arms to straighten yourself up. “Noah and I got talking. We've been talking.”

Her eyebrows raise in disbelief and she leans in close to you.

“Are you telling me you went on a DATE. And this has been going on for WEEKS?!” She attempts to whisper again, failing to hide her shock from Noah.

“We caught up yesterday… and today…”

Her reaction was yet again priceless. This time, along with the wide eyes, a smile graces her face, seemingly overcoming her star-struckness as she leans back in her chair.

“Do you know how insane this sounds? Like, this is actually crazy” she was now talking as if Noah wasn’t even in the room. She continued, “so, you’re dating the frontman of our favourite band?”

Your smile was all the answer she needed. She squealed in excitement, bouncing out of her chair to readjust her legs.

“You have to tell me everything about-“

She was cut off by Noah clearing his throat, a smug smile on his lips, even if he was still avoiding eye contact.

You mouth an “I promise” to your friend, who nods understandingly. She then stands, gathering her things into her bag and propping it over her shoulder.

“I’m only a phone call away. I mean it. If you need anything.” She stated matter-of-factly. You nod, squeezing her outstretched hand, before she bids her farewells and exits the room.

“She seems like a great friend” Noah comments as the door closes.

“She is. Been by my side forever” you say. Toying with the flimsy white hospital blanket. “You know you don’t need to help me. I know tour is still going and-“

“There’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s all been handled” he says calmly, intertwining his hand with your fidgeting one, looping his fingers between yours.

“Thank you” you say with a shaky voice. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared.

Over the next few hours, there are a few more visits from nurses, making sure that the injuries weren’t serious and that you were in the clear to leave. They seemed relieved when they saw the way Noah held out his hand for you to steady your balance. Despite a feeble attempt to walk on your own, he was insistent, and you couldn’t deny that it was indeed helpful to have him there.

He helped you into a cab that was ready and waiting, and you gave the directions to your home.

The cab ride was quiet, but Noah kept his hand in yours. He was careful as to not squeeze too hard as to hurt the bruising, and rushed as fast as he could to hold the door open for you when you finally arrived home.

You step from the cab and gather your belongings in a small bag, which Noah promptly takes for you and slings over his shoulder. You huff in response.

“I’ll need that so that I can unlock the front door.” You hold out a hand expectantly, but Noah ignores it. Instead, he runages through the tote, shuffling back the phone, wallet, even a stray tampon, and then raises the keys triumphantly. A few silver keys dangled, paired with your old key ring and the key to your car.

“I remember these!” He said happily as he reminisced on the story of how you met.

“That seems like forever ago” you reply, following as Noah walks towards the door, swinging it open and motioning his hand in front of him.

You step through the threshold and into your living room, glancing around to see the scattered mess that you had left pieces of clothing strewn carelessly by your bedroom door, after the fiasco that had made you be in such a rush earlier that morning. It was a little embarrassing, but with the feeling of drowsiness starting to set in, it didn’t really bother you that much.

Noah walks past you, placing your bag of belongings into the small island that was the center of your kitchen. He notices the yawn you let out and walks over to you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a hug.

Your arms curl up to his chest as you rest your shoulder on him, his heartbeat steady beneath his shirt. Your eyes close, and you let out a breath, feeling content for the first time in hours.

“You should probably get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” His grip tightens, and then loosens, as if to gesture to you to do as he says.

And you were not in the mood to argue. “Make yourself at home” you say, looking up at him drowsily, and he offers you a sweet smile back.

Without anything else said, you turn, heading straight for your bedroom. With the door closed, lights off, and finally under the covers, it didn’t take long to fall into a deep sleep.

It might have been the pain killers, the dark room, and just because you were flat-out exhausted, but it was hours later when you finally woke up.

There was no way of knowing what hour it was, your phone was somewhere else and the sky outside was a dark veil of a blue-black. Tip-toeing to the door, it creaks open, the light from the kitchen and living area still alight.

The clock on the wall shows the hands pointed at 12:45AM, and the TV continued to play a show that you hadn’t seen before. You walk towards the lounge, trying your best to be quiet on the hardwood floors as you could see an arm slung sleepily over the edge of the lounge, but fail once something twitches inside you, tugging at the injuries. You let out an involuntary yelp, falling forwards, arm only just catching the back of the sofa. Your other arm curled around your torso, clutching as though you were trying to hold yourself together. Tears started to well up and you were breathing heavily, huffing to try and control the searing pain that was starting to spread.

You startle Noah as he jolts upright in a panic, his hair completely strewn. His eyes are still half closed as he stumbles to his feet over to you, tripping over his feet a little. When he reaches your side, he helps you, taking a hand in yours, the other hand resting on your shoulder, semi-carrying your weight to lead you to sit down.

He steadies you as you lower, sitting while letting out a shaky breath. He still had your hand, clutching your fingers between his as your heartbeat finally started to come down to a normal pace.

Noah’s face was still covered in shock, processing what was happening around him. He looked concerned, hesitant to move, to touch you or help in any other way.

“I’m…. so…. sorry…” you huffed between breaths.

“S’okay” he murmured in response, clearly still half asleep.

“I can’t believe you’re still here” you say, looking at Noah, who met your eyes. It was an attempt to fill the silence growing in the room, and to distract you from the throbbing still occurring in your ribs.

“I wasn’t going to leave you here on your own.”

“You have things to do, shows to play. You can stay here, of course, but don’t you need to leave soon?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” It was the casualness that he said it, that made you worry.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, and he smiles, looking down at your hands.

“Everything has been sorted.” He comments, wriggling his fingers, turning your hand over in his.

“You’re awfully vague for someone who has everything planned out,” now you’re watching your hands, Noah begins to trace the lines of blue veins he sees under your skin.

“You didn’t cancel, did you?” It was almost embarrassing how fast you came to that conclusion, but he chuckles.

“No, the show is still happening. It’s not that far of a drive. Everyone else is heading in earlier, and I’ll meet them before the show starts.” He places your hand down, lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder. “And so will you.”

You look at him, unsure of what he was going on about.

“I don’t ha-“

“Like I said. It’s sorted.” He gives a small eyebrow raise as if to imply ‘I win’.

You, on the other hand, determined to flesh out as many details, pressed on.

“So how will we get there?”

“Car.” Noah was quick to respond.

“Who’s car?”

“Hire.”

“How long of a drive?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

He was looking smug now. You thought quickly to come up with more questions.

“What about after the show?”

“I’ll drive you back.”

“You’re not doing that.” You demand. That was too much on him.

“Yes I am.” He sounded like a stubborn child.

“It’ll be too late.”

His head rolls to the side, looking directly into your eyes.

“I’m a big boy, I can drive at night.”

It might have been the confidence that oozed from his voice, or the fact that he just called himself a ‘big boy’, but you felt something flip inside your stomach, a heat rising up to your chest, red bow flushing your cheeks with a hot glow.

All you could offer was a smile, looking back into his dark oak eyes. The way he was looking at you made you feel the safest you had ever felt.

Something came over you, and you held your breath, eyes slipping closed as you lean in, ever so slightly to Noah.

It could have been a hug, a kiss on the check, or something more mundane, but Noah knew this was an invitation. One he happily and needily accepted.

His lips meet yours, keeping his pressure light, but you needed a little more than that. You leaned more into the kiss, and he read the message loud and clear. His body shifts so that he’s facing you, leaning back and pulling you with him to sit atop his lap. Your lips are moving a little faster now, starting to part ever so slightly, so much that you can just feel Noah sweep his tongue over your lip. You reciprocate the action, holding onto either side of his face with your hands, knees now pinned on either side of his torso. Your lips part again, this time offering your tongue, and Noah opens needily. His breath is hot on your face as he tries to hold back every nerve in his body from taking this too far.

His head shifts closer to you, doing what he can in such confined space to bring you closer to him. His mouth moves with intent, like he was controls g each micro movement of his.

With the slightest tilt of your head, Noah’s lips crept to the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of fire where his lips and tongue darted across your skin. His hands gripped at your waist, digging into the sensitive skin being exposed from your shirt being tugged up just a little. His thumb rubbed carefully as though to say sorry, even though he wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

All your mouth could do, while Noah’s lips were now starting to run down to your collarbone, was hang open. The sensation, the heat, and the overwhelming fire inside you made it impossible to move, just in case if you did then all this would stop.

Noah watched the way you were falling apart, and he loved every second of it. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

When his mouth returned to yours, you followed his lead. Tongues were dancing intricately and intensely with each other. Heavy breathing would waft in brief periods when either if you needed a second to catch your breath, so the other would find something else to do with their mouth.

His hands are tight on your hips, fingers trailing up and down under your shirt, leaving the slightest of red marks from the pressure. It took everything in you to ignore the glaring pain that burned in your ribs, the feeling of fire ripping from both sides made your breath stop. Your head lifts a little, slowing down your passionate kiss, but Noah raises his head with yours, although as to make the moment linger for just a while longer.

You hated to do it, but there was no choice. The already existing bruises and injuries, paired with the lack of oxygen from not breathing properly was enough to make you lightheaded. You would have doubled over if you hadn’t already been laying horizontally.

You pull away, shifting so your hands are in fists on either side of Noah, bundled up and pressed into the thick fabric of the lounge. Eyes are tightly squeezed shut to focus on controlling your breaths.

Noah watches as a panic starts to rise.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“Noah, shut up.” You bark. His rambling makes it harder to will yourself to sit upright.

You push yourself back, now kneeling back in your legs, perched on Noah’s lap. Brushing your hair from your face, it takes a moment to steady yourself, but after twenty seconds, your eyes open. The pain is starting to subside.

Noah looks like he was in trouble. He held his hands up in surrender beneath you. Eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of you sitting precariously close to a certain something he had no control over in his pants.

He begins to shift beneath you, pulling himself up onto his elbows, eyeing you warily.

“Was that too much?” He questions.

One of your hands goes to rub the side of your face, eyes droop closed. You nod in response to him.

“It just hurt a little.”

You hadn’t noticed the tear that slipped out until it rolled down your cheek and fell onto Noah’s white shirt. His hand rubs up and down your arm to comfort you. With another shaky exhale, you open your eyes. Noah is being careful, despite his own desires at the moment, he looks at you as if to find the answer to what you need in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you finally say.

“For comforting you, or for kissing you?”

“…is it too weird to say both?” You both chuckle at the awkward remark. “I guess making out while you have injuries from a car accident isn’t the best way to have your first kiss together.”

Your legs slip off Noah, standing slowly and straightening out the clothes which had become so very twisted in the moments before. Noah sits up too, tugging at the sweatpants so they sit better, before reaching for a pillow, placing it gently on his lap.

You raise an eyebrow at him, before letting out a gutsy laugh. His eyes widen and looks to be shy all of a sudden.

“What?! I’m trying not to ruin the moment!” He states, but you can’t respond, still laughing at the innocence contrasted with the reason.

“Look, there’s other ways to get rid of it” he murmurs beneath his breath, teasingly, yet cautiously. His eyes are on you, wondering if the lewd joke had pushed the boundaries.

There was no denying the fire of lust burning in you, the way he made you feel made you weak at the knees.

“If it weren’t for these injuries, I’m sure we’d be finding out what those ways are.”

The somewhat directness from you caught him a little off guard, and it turned him on even more. He had to shift in his heat and readjust the pillow just to make his arousal a little less obvious.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, and the way he looked away from you when you turned to see his reaction. He even raised his hand, biting down on a finger in an attempt to distract himself.

You laugh again, knowing full well nothing else could happen. These injuries were cockblocking you to the extreme. As inviting and tempting as he was, the pain wasn’t worth it. He knew it too.

After the moment had passed, Noah shifted again, moving the pillow so it sat by his side. He padded it, and you lay down, placing your head on the pillow. His fingers start to tangle with your hair, pulling and twirling the loose threads that were strewn across your face.

The low murmur from the TV was enough of a lullaby, paired with Noah’s careful caressing, that you drifted off to sleep soon enough. Noah stayed awake for a little while longer though. He watched the way your eyes fluttered behind their kids. The way your face would twitch or twist as your dreams u folded before you. He also noticed the way your body relaxed when he gently placed a hand on your side, thumb rubbing careful circles to sooth you.

Just as he was about to fall into a slumber, we was on the brink of a dream state himself, when you utter his name. A loving smile graced your face, and it made Noah’s heart swell tenfold. He knew, after this moment, he would do anything in his power to keep you.

Part 5

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 31

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“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside.  “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?”  She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position.  “Like we discussed, okay?  This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you.  It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively.  You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up.  “Your body is already so primed for delivery!  It’s like you’ve been practicing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable.  “How bad is your pain?  We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…”  As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place.  You were outrageously close.  “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out.  The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out.  “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile.  If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly.  She really did feel like a mother in her own right.  “We’ll start that epidural.  Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing.  Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face.  “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached.  Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be.  Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness.  Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space.  In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded.  His voice was laced with anxiety.  He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button.  The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were.  Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law?  Dr. Trafalgar?]  It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back.  The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning.  Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick.  He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue.  It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths.  So much for operating room etiquette.  The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon.  I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind.  He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side.  He needed to be there with you.  He was missing the birth of his first child.  A lump developed in his throat.  The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body.  A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession.  His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room.  On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was.  Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas.  Why did L&D have to be so far away?!  His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way.  He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop.  He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running.  But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk.  He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm.  She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors.  He had tunnel vision.  He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within.  He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you.  Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face.  Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body.  You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out.  You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed.  He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths.  Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.  Your face was glistening with sweat.  Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention.  I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained.  “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid.  One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more.  Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced.  “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned.  “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning.  I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well.  Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days.  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  It was almost 10 in the evening.  His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s.  He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could.  Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing.  How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural.  Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear!  Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain.  “It’s about damn time.”  Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you.  With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief.  As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called.  “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed.  It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition.  35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense.  Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb.  Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses.  “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news.  His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips.  A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again.  Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first.  The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world.  The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator.  “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest.  It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you.  As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you.  Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns.  Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  His chin was quivering as he gazed over you.  His three girls.

His girls.  He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother.  He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes.  “You’re finally a daddy.  I’m happy you’re crying.”  You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments.  The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair.  It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term.  The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head.  The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color.  They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you.  Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him.  He was biased.  And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body.  It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in.  Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge.  The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way.  They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state.  “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand.  “It’s good to see you.  Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed.  “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game.  It’s all in a day’s work for me.  I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even.  I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory.  “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle.  She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor.  “But look at you now.  A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins.  All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk.  “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly.  “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum.  Let me know if you need anything, alright?  In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her.  One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had.  It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor.  He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly.  You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again.  Not after carrying and shoving out two humans.  When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips.  All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange.  One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you.  “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned.  “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us.  For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder.  You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours.  Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.”  Law kissed your hand cheek.  “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones.  “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone.  “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk.  One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU.  At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.”  One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts.  “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest.  It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down.  “But you’ll have help.  Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response.  “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added.  “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled.  “Names.  We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered.  He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent.  “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.  And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes.  A smile he only ever showed you.  “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls.  Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead.  “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was.  In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good.  Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin.  Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place.  You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window.  Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below.  It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads.  The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body.  She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators.  It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku.  He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too.  But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not.  Im soaked over here.  

It was then that his pager beeped.  He forgot he still had it on him.  Technically, he was still on the clock.  He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker.  [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR!  How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips.  “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard.  [Patient did absolutely amazing.  He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia.  They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands.  Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs.  A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy.  “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose.  Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard.  A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you.  We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest.  It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see.  They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.  

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb.  “You guys go clean up, alright?  Treat yourselves.  Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor.  Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room.  His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek.  Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space.  Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment.  Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch.  “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

[sweetestspence]

" late night talking "

summary: one accidental text leads to a night of mayhem, which both yn and spencer struggle to piece together pairing: s1!spencer reid x f!reader genre: fluff contains : alcohol consumption wc : 3.6k

part of the holy ground series.

You wake up to your alarm going off and sunlight streaming to your face. But before you could even register the loud incessant beeping of your alarm, the pounding sensation in your head causes you let out a quiet hiss through your teeth. You feel around the nightstand for your phone; it’s always on your nightstand, but you find it on the unoccupied pillow beside your head as you open your eyes to a squint.

“Oh my-” You sit up, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment. Your heartbeat races in your ears, overthrowing the headache that’s creeped into your temples. Taking a peek beneath the bedsheet that covered your body, you let out a giant breath of relief once you realize you still had your clothes on. Although there’s a giant stain on your top that you don’t quite remember getting. 

The wooden floorboards are cold beneath your bare feet. A chill travels up your spine as you make your way out of the bedroom. Your last memory, albeit quite fuzzy, was texting Elle to join you at a club and you trusted yourself enough that you were actually able to do so.

“Hello?” You call out.

“Over here.”

A groggy voice answers back. Familiar, but not quite the one you were expecting to hear. Turning the corner to the living room, you find Spencer sitting up on the couch. He’s stretching his arms above his head, his expression contorted into one of discomfort.

“You’re not Elle.” You furrow your brows, blinking back a couple times to make sure you weren’t actually just seeing things. 

“Clearly, no.” Spencer hunches over, resting his elbows by his knees and threading his fingers through this hair. “What happened? How am I hungover?”

You take a seat beside him. Last night’s events are buzzy, colorful, loud haze. No matter how much you try to recall, you could only seem to come up with a blur. “The last thing I remember is texting Elle.”

“The last thing I remember is getting a text from you.” Spencer fishes his phone from his pocket to show you the text he received, only to find that it’s run out of battery. He sighs and places it on the coffee table. “Well, it was mostly indecipherable anyways. It was just a bunch of letters and numbers, which was worrying.”

“How did you know where to get me?” 

“I said mostly indecipherable.” He looks up at you with a quiet chuckle. You meet his eyes and Spencer instinctively looks away, but he’s well aware that you’re keeping your gaze on him. Perhaps it had something to do with your jobs in the FBI and the kinds of encounters you had with every case that made him worry about your wellbeing. Spencer bites his tongue on how he immediately assumed the worst when he received the text. 

“Right. Forgot you were an actual genius.” You gently nudge his shoulder with your own and it’s then your gaze falls on his hands, which are covered with band-aids. “Wait, were these there before you picked me up?”

Spencer follows your line of sight and it’s only then the slight stinging ache in his hands registers in his mind, scrunching his nose at the slight pangs of pain. While there are a couple of bandaids that covered his fingers, they’re applied haphazardly, thin light red lines peeking from beneath some of them and a few uncovered ones littered his palms. “No, they were not.”

You take his hand in yours, inspecting the scratches and lightly running your thumb over them. “The cuts are shallow, and judging by the stain around some of these, they were probably treated with an iodine solution.”

“Not well though.” Spencer’s brows are furrowed, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you let his hand go. “Missed a few and the application is uneven. The stain on this one is a bit darker.”

“We need to figure out what happened. I mean, what if we did something illegal? We’re FBI agents!”

“Then we should have woken up in a holding cell.” Spencer answers without missing a beat, watching as you stand and start pacing back and forth. Your panic doesn’t exactly help in soothing his own anxieties on the events of the previous night. “And that’s the conclusion you jump to?”

His words don’t seem to reach you though, and Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up. You stop pacing and face him directly, a certain kind of determination in your tone and expression. “That’s it. We’re FBI agents, we can figure out what happened. We’ll just have to treat this like a case and retrace our steps. Close your eyes, we’ll do a cognitive interview-”

“Y/n, breathe. Let’s start by looking for clues.” He cuts you off, and you hadn’t even realized that you were running out of breath. Spencer looks around the room, his eyes landing on two identical pairs on sunglasses on the coffee table. “Look, I don’t own these.”

“I don’t either- oh god… did we steal these?!” Your voice goes octaves higher, your eyes growing wide. Spencer feels around for his wallet, which he finds in his back pocket.

“Probably not… my wallet is empty.” He frowns, placing his wallet down and picking up one of the sunglasses. “These look cheap, they wouldn’t be worth more than ten dollars each. Is there anything in your purse that might help us get a clearer picture?”

You practically sprint to the bedroom, having caught sight of it by the foot of the bed on your way out earlier. Spencer takes the time to charge his phone in an outlet by the kitchen counter, perhaps something in his messages or call history would shake his memory. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed. Genuinely the last thing he remembers is settling in for the night, until he got your text. Though the hangover suggests that may have had some alcohol in his system. But that doesn’t make sense. If he was there to pick you up or check for danger, he wouldn’t have willingly drunk anything, needing to be sober if he was to take you home in one piece. 

“I have a receipt for the sunglasses and some first aid supplies. It’s from the general store across the street from the club.” You hand him the receipt before continuing to rummage through your bag.

He scans through the contents of the receipt. “Okay, according to the receipt we were at the store at 2:33 am. Can you check your phone and see what time you sent me that text?”

Your phone was hanging on 10 percent with a very cracked screen and a couple of missing buttons, the sight of which gave you more questions to answer. You could hear Spencer let out a quiet ‘yikes’ the second you pulled it out of your bag. “Yikes is right… looks like I sent you that text at 1 am.”

Spencer was right when he said all you said was an almost indecipherable combination of numbers and letters, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell he managed to figure out where to get you. 

“You got some of the letters correct. I figured since you were probably drunk, you were a few buttons off on some of them. Look, you put in an ‘A’ for ‘E’ and ‘7’ instead of ‘U’.” 

“How-”

“You’re easy to read when your guard is down.” Spencer shrugs, and before you could even ask him to elaborate he’s already brushed his own words aside. “You sent that text at one, and it’s a twenty minute trip from my apartment to the club. Fifteen if there’s no traffic, and I assume there’s none considering the time. What happened in the next hour between me arriving at the club that would lead to us buying first aid supplies?”

Silence envelops the two of you as you both tried to come up with your own theories. Spencer wonders if he had gotten into a fight, but there’s no bruising on his face or knuckles. While possible, a fight wouldn’t lead to just some shallow cuts on his hands. Why would I even get into a fight in the first place? To protect Y/n? he thinks to himself, making a quick glance at your features — clearly deep in thought. No, I wouldn’t have had to. She throws a better punch. He dismisses the thought, remembering the last case you had just worked where you decked an UnSub who was looking to get past you in an alley. Besides, you didn’t have any self defense wounds. 

Surely, there must be an easier way to get around the gap in his memory. Then it hits him. The most obvious way to find out what had happened without either of you having to bend over backwards to try and figure it out.

“Didn’t you mention you were going out with your friends…?”

“Oh god, I’m so stupid.” You mumble to yourself, gently hitting your forehead with the palm of your hand to emphasize your point. Scrolling through your contacts until you find the right one, you let out a quick sigh when the other line rings. “My friends left when they found someone to go home with- if you know what I mean. But luckily, the bartender is also a friend… Hey!”

“Y/n! How’s the hangover?” 

Spencer moves closer to you in an attempt to hear the other side of the conversation. You place your phone on speaker, but he maintains his proximity. Just close enough that his arm ever so slightly brushes against yours, but far enough to not make your heart race. 

“Josh. I need you to tell me what the hell happened last night.”

Your friend laughs at the urgency in your voice. “Do you want the detailed account or the TLDR?”

“TLDR?” Spencer asks, leaning closer towards you, his voice low.

“It means ‘too long, didn’t read’. It’s basically slang for a summary of something.” You reply just as quietly. Turning your attention back to your phone, “Considering I’m about to run out of battery, I think TLDR would be good for now.”

“Got it. Well, after Mia and Liv left you said you were going to invite your friend Elle to join you instead. But then this guy Dr Reid shows up and says that he works with you. Is he…”

“Yeah.” Spencer clears his throat. “I’m here.”

“Nice to meet you, man! Anyways, he tries to get you to come home with him because you’re so clearly plastered and you two have work. You said that you don’t want to go home with someone sober. Fast forward a few shots later and Dr Reid feels bad for knocking over a bunch of empty glasses on the bar and he tries to pick them up.”

“That explains the cuts on my hand.” Spencer comments.

“Mhmm. Since I ran out of supplies, I offered to walk with the two of you to the store across the street to treat his cuts. You insisted on being the one to help him. I stayed until you finished putting on the bandaids and got you both in a cab.”

You follow each word that escapes Josh’s lips and you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded your veins. You hadn’t known Spencer for too long and you had already caused him far more trouble than you believe you were worth. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter and tighter with each passing second, letting out a breath of relief once it was all over. You still don’t know where the large stain on your top was from, or why you had chosen to buy sunglasses along with the first aid supplies The only thing you knew was that you owed Spencer the biggest apology. 

“Why did I buy sunglasses?”

“You kept complaining about not having any to take to the field.”

“Why are there two?”

“You exclaimed, pretty loudly might I add, that they looked good on Dr. Reid so you got him a pair too.” 

“You’re lying…” You mumble, forgetting that Spencer was just a couple of feet beside you, and using your free hand to cover your face. “Did I happen to spill anything on myself too?”

“Nope.” Josh chuckles, loud and breathy, causing your embarrassment to multiply tenfold. “Listen, Y/n. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem.”

He hangs up and you turn to Spencer with a small, sheepish smile. “I guess that solves one mystery.”

“There’s still the matter of that stain on your top, so we made one more stop before we got here.” Spencer’s brows are furrowed, his gaze trained on you. He moves to stand in front of you to get a better look. “It doesn’t look like mud or dirt. I think it might be coffee… you know, there’s a diner not too far from here.”

Before you could offer making a quick trip to confirm his hypothesis, his phone lights up from the kitchen counter. His ringtone cuts through both your trains of thought. Sneaking a peek at the caller ID, an immediate sense of dread fills your senses. You look at Spencer wide-eyed and his expression mimics yours as he weaves his way around his furniture to answer his phone.

“Hey, uh, Hotch.” Spencer didn’t mean for his voice to shake as much as it did, or to grip the phone as tightly.

“Good. You’re awake. Is L/n up as well?”

“Ye- wait, you know she’s here?”

Spencer’s eyes widen to a degree you didn’t even know was possible, which only increased the panic that flowed through your veins. You raise your brows and mouth an exaggerated ‘what is he saying?’. He puts his phone on speaker and waves you over, but you stay rooted to your spot. 

“I’m sure you’ll forgive me for giving her the bed.” There’s nothing in Hotch’s voice to indicate anger or frustration, though you could hear the slightest bit of disappointment. You imagine him on the other end of the call, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re expected at the office in an hour. The team needs both of you at your best. Sort out your hangovers or whatever it is you need before that. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Um- I was just wondering-”

 Aaron sighs. “You’re both lucky we didn’t get called in last night. Check your call history, Reid. You called me and I found you and L/n at four in the morning engaged in an arm wrestling competition. On the way back, you gave her all the cash in your wallet because you lost. Do I even want to know the rest of the night’s events?”

You shake your head and Spencer answers for both of you. “No, sorry for the trouble.”

“Just make sure it never happens again.”

“It won’t-”

“If it does and you’re going to need an early morning pick-up at some random diner, at least get Anderson to do it.”

Both of you hear the call disconnect, leaving you and Spencer in a stunned silence. A beat passes, and the two of you make eye contact. 

“Did Hotch just make a joke?” You ask your question slowly, as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. You’re not too sure if Spencer heard it either, but you swear you could hear the ghost of a smile in the latter half of his sentence. 

“You know I-” He pauses, actually considering the question. Spencer looks down at his feet, just for the quickest of seconds, before looking up at you. “I can never tell with him.”

He says it earnestly. But you could tell in the way the corners of his mouth flicked upwards, in the way he tried to suppress a smile, that he was somewhat joking too. Spencer didn’t seem to be the type to make a jest on Hotch’s seeming stoicism to his face, despite how close the team was. Not to mention, you were still quite new too. The fact that he was comfortable enough with you to make a small jab at your chief warms your heart.

So you let out a chuckle, and he joins you, and in just a few seconds it turns into full blown laughter. Mostly at the absurdity of the events of the previous night. It’s not lost on either of you that both of you were the last two people on the team to have such an experience. If you were betting on it, your money would have been on Morgan or Elle.  

“I should get going.” Your laughter dies down, realizing you were against the clock and JJ might call you in earlier than expected. You grab your purse and head to the door, walking as quickly as you can without tripping on your own two feet. “I think I can squeeze in a quick shower at my apartment and a trip to the coffee shop in an hour.”

“Before you leave, you should uh-” Spencer’s voice stops you in his tracks. He gestures to the stain on your top before handing you the cardigan he’s wearing. “get that covered up.”

You gratefully accept the cardigan and put it on, making a mental note to get it washed before returning it to him. Just as your hand makes contact with the doorknob, Spencer calls out your name.

He’s standing by the coffee table, and he tosses you one of the cheap plastic sunglasses neither of you remember buying. You catch it with ease, a proud smile spreading across your face in doing so. For a moment, flashes of the previous night flood through his mind. Blurry images of you cheering him on as he downed another shot, you absentmindedly dancing around streetlights, you gently blowing on the cuts on his hand, the same proud smile on your face as you beat him at arm wrestling.

“I think I had fun.” Like always, Spencer chooses his words wisely. He’s not too sure if the images he conjured in his head are real, or merely suggested by the retellings of Hotch and your friend. He likes to believe they are, and he bites his tongue on more of what he wants to say. Hopefully next time, I remember. I hope there’s a next time. Nights like the one you just had are a rarity for him, and he didn’t exactly mind the experience if you were there too. 

“Same time next week?” You tease, putting on the sunglasses. 

“Oh no.” He shakes his head, walking towards the front door so he could see you out. “I’m taking an indefinite hiatus from nights I can’t remember.”

“And here I thought you had some sort of super memory.”

“I have an eidetic memory, which accounts for the things I read.” Spencer corrects, now standing just a couple of feet in front of you. “Which was unhelpful in this scenario. We still don’t know why your phone’s broken.”

“I wanted to get a new one anyway.. oh, here.” You’re halfway out the door when you remember the loose bills in your purse — the ones you had won from your little arm wrestling bet. It didn’t feel right to keep them when neither of you even remember making a deal in the first place. You take them out and hand it to him. “and… uh, thanks. For you know, showing up.”

“Anytime.” Spencer means it. You had only been part of the team for a couple of months at that point, but he responds without missing a beat. Showing up for his team members is a part of the job, and you were no exception to that. As long as you called, he’d show up.

He knew it was true for everyone. Hotch coming to the diner to get both of you was proof of that too.

“I’ll see you later then.”

“See you.”

You leave him with one final thankful smile and Spencer closes the door with a gentle click. He makes his way back to the kitchen, where his phone had been halfway charged at that point. Sure enough, he’s made several calls to Hotch and one to Morgan. He sees the text you sent him and a wrinkled piece of paper on the farthest corner of the room, the one he used to decipher your message. When he checks his gallery, on the off chance he’s accidentally taken photos throughout the night that might help jog his memory, Spencer finds a picture of both of you. 

It’s most likely taken by your friend Josh. You’re both sitting on the sidewalk, and he suspects it was taken during the time you were waiting for a cab. You’re wearing the sunglasses you had just bought and he’s used his own matching pair to push his hair back. You have an arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he has a peace sign up and could barely keep his eyes open. Both of you clearly drunk out of your minds, but wide grins plastered on both your faces.

It’s first clear memory he has of the previous night, and the thought of which makes Spencer smile as he makes his morning coffee.

[ The smile disappears as soon as he gets a text from Morgan saying : ooooh heard from Hotch the wonder twins had a crazy night… did you get lucky pretty boy? ;) ]

a/n. this part turned out much longer than i expected it to be... but i hope you enjoyed ! thank you for all the kind words and the support i received on the first part, and this series in general. i'd really love to know what you think hehe !!

[1d1195]

Protection IX

Read the rest here: Protection

Sorry about the drama, wish I could say it's over. However...

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort probably, some gooey stuff, some sad stuff.

Hope you'll all forgive me eventually <3

Just over 7k words.

Another big thank you to @freedomfireflies for pre-reading this part too to check for obvious awfulness.

The only solace he had was knowing she was the strongest wildflower he had ever met.

Groggy was an understatement. There was nothing she could compare to the feeling she had of waking up in a hospital bed again for the second time within three months. She blinked a few times and swore the beeps sounded almost like they were in her peripheral hearing if that were possible. But really, the most important sight and sound had nothing to do with the beeps or the hospital room at all.

Harry’s head was hung low. He seemed to be scrolling through his phone aimlessly. One of his warm hands was wrapped in hers so tightly, it made her palm sweaty, and it was so very perfect. He sighed softly—like he was in pain, and almost in response to the rhythmic beeping from the machine next to him. It took her a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. She only had a vague memory of what happened and how she got here because the only thing she remembered was Harry saying I love you before she fell asleep.

Of course, she didn’t have a concept of how much time had passed, but she was alive. So that was something.

When she first got her protection detail, one of the agents told her he thought spite alone would keep her alive long past her expiration date. At the time she snarled at him or something, but truthfully, she believed it. A little blood loss was nothing for her. It would mean more to her to outlive every one of the security agents. It would make her happy to make them cringe a bit more.

Plus, she had Harry to look at. She wanted him to touch her and kiss her. Harry was finally something she could look forward to. There was no way she could lose that—not for anything. She cleared her dry throat, gave his hand a squeeze as she spoke. “Feel like this’ll be more paperwork for you. Just shoulda died,” she whispered with humor dripping in her voice. Her throat was scratchy and broken with disuse. Her words slurred a little more than normal from the medicine swimming in her veins and having just woken up from a long nap.

Harry slowly turned his head toward her hearing her perfect, beautiful voice. Near black circles were painted on the skin below his eyes. His green irises contrasted sharply against the bloodshot whites. The stubble on his cheeks was approaching nothing like what she had ever seen on him. Harry was always clean shaven. Professional and proper. She smirked so cutely. Sleepy looking. Like Harry woke her up from one of her study naps. “Harry Styles,” she said softly. “Have you been sleeping?” She asked.

Harry stood up silently. His facial expression contorting into pain as he did. He pressed his free hand on her cheek before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to her forehead. It made her insides turn to liquid. There was no other way to describe it. Harry had been aching for the last few days waiting for her to wake up and it had been painful. But the relief his lips felt touching her skin was unmatched. His mouth ached in a whole new, perfect way.

Then he broke her heart. “I had t’see y’open your eyes, kitten. I have t’go now,” he squeezed her hand before he slowly began to release it. With his other hand touching her face, he stroked his thumb along her cheekbone.

The heart monitor betrayed her immediately because it skyrocketed. But she didn’t care. “Harry, no,” she croaked. “Please don’t leave me,” the monitor panicking like that caused an onslaught of nurses running to her room because they hadn’t seen it move above resting pace in nearly three days. But she didn’t know that.

“Oh, she’s awake,” a nurse said in surprise.

“Kitten. I have to go,” he repeated trying to pull his hand from her grip. “M’not supposed t’be here.” Her breathing turned to almost panting and she shook her head holding his hand as if her life depended on it. It certainly felt like it was. Harry outwardly presented a forlorn expression, but there was something in his eyes...

Was Harry smiling? She thought to herself. Smug bastard. Harry was wearing a plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Inconspicuous. Normal. Utterly hot for no reason at all even with the dark circles and what she assumed was a severe lack of sleep. The nurses were fluttering all around her, but she waved her free hand at them paying no mind to their worry or cares. Her gaze didn’t move from those pretty green eyes that she loved with every bit of herself. “Love,” Harry said gently. “You have t’listen.”

“Don’t leave me,” she begged again ignoring his smugness. “Everyone leaves me.” He looked pained by her request. Completely conflicted by what he wanted and needed to do. Which of course she had no idea what that entailed. Again, she still hadn’t a clue how long she had been out. There was so much she didn’t know, and her brain was fogged over.

But the one thing she did know was that Harry was here and she wasn’t going to push him away or let him get away—or she would die trying. Especially now that she knew a thing or two about that. That much was certain.

“Sweetie, we have to do a few things; he promised he would leave once you woke up. Your father was insistent that you—”

The sound of her father made her eyes narrow while her heart rate shot off higher. She glared at the nurse that said it, all while keeping hold of Harry’s hand. As much as he said he had to leave she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t protesting the death grip she had on his hand. Even with the fatigue and weakness she felt surprised she didn’t break one of his knuckles or fingers. Or maybe she did, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to care right now. He looked like he was beating himself up brutally both inwardly and outwardly.

She shook her head slowly at the mention of Mr. Secretary. “I will rip this IV out and I’ll rip my catheter out and walk out the door after him,” she growled out her threat.

“Sweetheart,” another nurse said already exasperated with her attitude. That had to be a new record. She wondered if Harry would ever laugh again because she thought about telling him such a statistic and hoped he would find it funny. Part of her thought he looked too distraught to care.

At the same time, she reached for the IV with her free hand to follow through on her threat. Harry quickly grabbed for it, pressing it above her head on the fluffy pillow with the hand that wasn't holding her wired arm. The nurses gasped at her reaction, and she imagined they were probably a little grateful for Harry stopping her. “Don’t,” he whispered gently to her. If he watched her bleed ever again, he would probably throw up.

It wasn’t the time, but it was quite hot the way he held her trapped against her bed. His voice was low and sultry without even meaning to be. The simple command of “don’t” would have set her heartrate higher if it wasn’t already thudding with anger at the mention of her dad. Moreover, the idea of him leaving didn’t give her much time to think about how nice it would be to be trapped under Harry’s body. She glared at him now, feeling betrayed by his diffidence to support her. “Don’t leave me,” she said evenly but Harry could tell she was mad...maybe even sad.

“He can stay.”

He closed his eyes and she saw his shoulders sink just barely. She knew he was relieved, and she would blame the dark circles on Harry’s lack of sleep. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking clearly, wasn’t understanding that they were just saying that. She glared at the nurses. “I swear to God, if I come back from whatever room you take me to and he’s not here I will throw the biggest fit you have ever seen you’ll have to sedate me again and then I will wake up even angrier and I will rip out every needle or tube you stick in me. I’ll refuse to eat. Don’t make him leave.”

They all looked at one another awkwardly, because clearly, that was the plan. “He shot you.”

Harry visibly flinched with his whole body. Oh, he’s going to hate himself forever.

“He saved my life.”

"He almost killed you."

Harry sighed, wincing and turning his face away from her, so he didn’t have to look her in the eye as they talked about him like he wasn’t there. He was never going to get over this. "There was no other way. I was dead no matter what. I trust him with my life. The second you let me out of here, I'm going straight to him. So, it's either you let him stay here and I do everything you ask, or I fight you on everything until I escape and go find him. Your call."

They were silent. Harry was still holding her hand above her head so she wouldn't reach for her IV. He turned back to look at her once she started her negotiation again. All while she argued he stared at her, like he was unsure that she was really alive. His face scanned for signs that something was wrong, that her eyes would flutter, or she’d seize or something from the cause of his stupid, terrible shot that left her without blood and oxygen in her brilliant, beautiful brain for so long.

But with each passing second and scanning every inch of her perfect face he was starting to believe she maybe, really, was okay.

He wanted to argue with her on behalf of the nurses that so kindly cared for her the last few days. Even when they wanted to kill Harry for hurting this perfect gorgeous girl and still being able to sit by her side. Frankly, he agreed with them—he didn’t deserve to be by her side. He should have been kicked out. He should have been fired.

Or they should have let her shoot him in the leg as well—something to ease his guilt.

But the idea of leaving her was going to break him. He wouldn't—couldn’t—have gone far. He already planned on stationing himself outside the main entrance so he could find her as soon as she was released.

"He can stay."

Harry exhaled all the air in his body. He was too tired to be skeptical, but apparently a three-day coma left her rested, skeptical, and feistier than ever. "Seriously?" She asked.

"Seriously. Please let us take you to get some tests."

She looked at Harry again; her expression was gentle. Harry adored her. "Please don't leave."

"I'll stay right here, love," he promised sitting back in the chair by her bedside. "Don't give them too much a fight."

She smiled. “Someone told me I’m so stubborn, so don’t hold your breath.”

He smirked and sat still in the chair. As if to say he wasn’t moving at all.

*

Harry intertwined his hands behind the back of his head as he tried pressing on some hidden pressure point that would ease the anxiety and headache he was getting. She’s awake. He had been texting his mum updates.

Oh, thank goodness! That’s great news, honey bun!! Send her my love.

Harry didn’t know how to reply so he didn’t. He would send another update when it was needed. Harry felt like pure shit. He was so glad—maybe ecstatic was the right word—that she was awake, but at what cost? The only reason he was here was because he was still listed as her emergency medical contact. Niall took his gun away from him almost immediately, but Harry was grateful because he didn’t even want to see it ever again.

“It’s protocol,” Niall said gently. Harry was going to jump out a window. He finally understood why she hated that word so much. “She asked you to,” he murmured quietly. Like Niall didn’t want anyone else to hear—and he probably didn’t. Harry gave the rundown while they sat in the waiting room...hoping and praying the surgeon would be able to fix her pretty, perfect leg. Harry grimaced at his words. “Harry, she’s...” he smiled shaking his head. “She might be the smartest person I’ve ever met; she wouldn’t have asked you to do that unless she was sure of it. It was an impossible situation. She has better chances of surviving a leg wound than a shot to the head and what very little I know of her, she probably calculated those odds herself,” Niall reminded him. “M’gonna have to tell them all but...” he shook his head. “If she could have shot herself, I bet she would have,” he smirked. Harry was too depressed to agree but the one little part of his brain that was waiting for her to be okay was still telling him that she was stubborn and lovely. Inwardly, he smiled at the thought of her shooting her own foot, literally because maybe Niall was right.

Once Niall did tell the others in the department, Harry was looked at like he was absolutely crazy. “Styles is probably the only one of us that didn’t want to shoot her,” one of them grumbled.

“Not the time, thank you,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“You’re suspended,” his supervisor said immediately. Harry nodded solemnly. Of course, he was. But everyone was forced to sit in the awkwardness that Harry was still her emergency contact. “Mr. Secretary doesn’t want you here.”

“Someone has to make medical decisions for her,” the surgeon appeared behind the wall of black suits of the men responsible for her safety.

“He’s the one—”

“He’s not even—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Is she okay?” Harry interrupted quickly. None of that other stuff mattered. She was the only thing that mattered. The woman that saved her life might be the only one that had any importance to Harry aside from her.

She smiled and nodded. “She’ll be fine. Definitely a lot of blood loss. We’ve kept her sedated... she... she’s a trooper,” she smirked. “She didn’t want to give up.”

Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and tried not to cry in front of all his colleagues. He stared at the floor. “Yeah...that sounds like her.”

“The point is, that kind of blood loss...we worry about how it may have affected the brain, so we’ve induced a coma and we’ll wean her off as her body focuses on healing and feels ready to come out of it.”

Harry thought he might die. “Can I see her?” He asked.

“You are not allowed—”

“Listen, I don’t really care about any of your protocols,” Harry thought she would love her surgeon. “He’s the emergency contact. Is there anyone that she would trust more than him who is here right now?” She asked. “Anyone of you married to her?”

One snorted. “I don’t know if she trusts anyone,” someone muttered.

“Harry’s the one,” Niall said confidently.

He felt sick to his stomach. Because even if she, Niall, and honestly probably the rest of his colleagues, were right to agree he was the one to make decisions for her, Harry felt like he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. What kind of person tells someone he adores her, invites her to Christmas, and then shoots her in the leg?

Harry and Niall exchanged a look before Harry followed behind the surgeon. There was so much they had to discuss and figure out. But mainly, that look meant the most important thing that had to be discussed. The elephant in the room: which agents were corrupt enough to kidnap her and why?

*

She looked at her wrists; wires and tubes were protruding from her arms every which way. Not to mention the bruises wrapping the circumference of them—a reminder of the zip tie that held her in place. Harry was watching her with a pained expression. She glanced at him after looking at her side table in hopeful search. “This is not your fault,” she had so much to tell Harry now that the major source of danger had passed. She couldn’t wait to tell him she was right about DSS. Nothing made her happier than the thought of telling him all the awful stuff she found out.

“Love,” he shook his head. “Who’s fault—”

She checked her wrists again as if what she wanted would suddenly appear. “Can you find me my scrunchie?” She interrupted. “My hair is bothering me.”

He was on his feet instantly. Turned to look through the box and bag situated on the mini sofa below the window of the room. It was all her belongings from the past few days. Niall had taken it upon himself and went to grab a slew of things for her (and Harry as well). “For when she wakes up,” Niall said patting his friend on the back who wouldn’t move from seat. “Go shower, I won’t move,” he promised and situated himself beside her as he looked her over. There wasn’t much. But some of it was found in the warehouse she was kept in. He found the scrunchie. “Is it not in there?” She asked quietly. “It’s really pretty—all flowery and glittery,” she pouted. Harry smiled as he fiddled with it making sure there was no blood on it because he couldn’t remember if it was the one in her hair from the warehouse. He didn’t want her to see any reminders of that awful day. He didn’t want to see any of those awful reminders either.

“S’here, love. Jus’ a second,” he promised. “Jus’...don’t want any blood on it.”

She sighed. “I want to shower so bad. I must look disgusting.”

He shook his head, turning to her. Gently, he coaxed her to shift forward so he could gather her hair into a ponytail and wrapped the scrunchie twice around her hair. “You’re alive,” he reminded her. As if she forgot. “You’re beautiful, Miss Wildflower.”

She wrinkled her nose at his compliment feeling her face warm at his appraisal. She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt like she had six days’ worth of grime on her. Her shower at home seemed like a paradise. “When can I leave?” She asked. She needed to tell Harry that his supervisor was a dick when there weren’t witnesses who may also be corrupt. Part of her was a little surprised that neither she nor Harry figured it out sooner.

But between the lack of privacy and her mind slightly unfocused between the medicine and the coma, it was hard to keep track of the pressing issue. Plus, Harry looking so unbelievably pretty didn’t help her attention to detail either.

He snorted. “Love,” he rolled his eyes. Harry didn’t want her to leave until her leg was completely healed. But that would be weeks. So, that was a bit unreasonable on his part, but his intention was clear.

“Harry, I want to go home. I want to take a five-hour shower, watch a rom-com, fill out our spreadsheet, and make out with you until I think I might actually die.” He smirked immediately at her idea. Despite how crummy he felt about everything else it was nice to hear her cute thoughts.

That dimple of his, (the one that previously drove her mad because it always came with the word protocol) was now the most delightful thing she had ever seen. “Yeah?” He murmured. “Y’want t’make out?” He asked a tad smugly.

She nodded eagerly, allowing his smugness because she really wanted to kiss him so very badly. “Yes, and maybe we don’t even have to watch a movie,” she sounded pretty seductive for someone that hadn’t showered in six days and Harry thought that maybe she was sexier than she had ever been without even trying.

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead again. “I’ll find out when y’can go,” he skimmed the back of his finger over her cheek softly.

“Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Yes, kitten?” He would do anything for her. That much was clear. He would probably learn to tie balloon animals if she asked. He traced his fingertip over her lips, and she thought she might have a heatstroke. “What d’you need?”

“What’s your favorite song?” She asked so innocently Harry could have cried.

He sighed and smiled at her, shaking his head. “Free Falling the John Mayer version,” he told her.

“I like the Tom Petty one more,” she said knowingly, “But it’s a good song either way...Favorite movie?”

He rolled his eyes amazed she didn’t give one ounce of care to how she was feeling or the fact she had woken up from a coma less than six hours ago. “The Notebook.”

“Favorite TV show?”

He snorted. “Er...Family Guy,” he admitted shyly. She giggled. He waited as she thought of her next question. He wouldn’t leave the room without her okay.

“Can we still go to England?” She asked so quietly. There were security agents outside. She needed Harry alone before she could tell him all the stuff he knew. She hadn’t seen his supervisor since she woke up. She had to keep calm until they were alone.

Harry thought his heart would break. All alone. Just the two of them. Away from protocol, corrupt agents, and as far away from that awful building and memories as he could possibly get. He would take such good care of her and dote on her. He had no idea she was thinking the same things but for very different reasons. He nodded immediately, a pretty, perfect grin stretching across his face that made her briefly forget about why she wanted and needed to be alone with him. “Yes, honey. Whatever y’want. Mum and Gem are looking forward t’meeting you.”

She nodded with a smile, her expression seemed relieved, and he felt bad she was relieved by the notion. There wasn’t a place on earth where he wouldn’t find her nor take her if she wanted it. “Harry?” She whispered softly again.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Will you kiss me?” She asked, like he would reject her.

Never, in any universe, any lifetime, any dream, would he reject such a request. But he was too busy doing as she asked, to explain that to her.

But somehow, he thought she got it.

*

When she opened her eyes again, Harry wasn’t there. She could see two people standing in the hall just outside her door. More security. She finally got her shower, a nurse had to sit with her the whole time, so, it was awkward and uncomfortable. She almost would have preferred Harry had helped her. At least he would have accepted the discomfort she felt. (And maybe she could have snuck a few more not-so-subtle kisses.)

A small plastic cup sat on the table in front of her. Inside was a little bouquet of what could only be described as wildflowers: small little petals of violet, red, and yellow. She never had a combination of them on her walls or really thought about wildflowers ever. But right now, she wanted to. Her mind spinning with the need to purchase hundreds of fake flowers of this exact bouquet to remind her of this very arrangement every day. To remind her that Harry was still here despite how cranky and annoying she had been. Despite almost dying. She picked up the notecard propped against the cup.

The door opened but she was too busy admiring the flowers and reading the I adore you over and over to bother looking up for him. If August-Harry told her he was putting a tracking device in her clothes she would have killed him with her bare hands. But now she was comforted by the fact. She honestly would encourage it. “They’re really pretty,” she said softly.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Her heart monitor once more betrayed her. The sound of her dad’s voice wreaked havoc on her, but it was worse letting him know that she was distraught by his company. Her brain started screaming for Harry’s name.

“Dad,” she blinked. He sat beside her where Harry had been keeping vigil for the last few days. She wanted to kick him out of that seat. It was Harry’s seat. Her dad didn’t once try to find her. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged the fact she was missing nor cared about her well-being and seeing him right now... she knew why.

He eyed her curiously. “You know, honey. You have thwarted every one of my plans. Every single one. Ever since you were little.”

She prided herself on being intelligent. It was how she often evaded her security detail, including Harry. It was how she was so successful in school and how she managed to balance all the things in her life up to this point. But nothing prepared her for her dad at that moment. And really, she should have known. The driver told her in so many words that it was him.

“What do you mean?” She asked calmly the heart monitor not sensing the anxiety coursing through her.

For as much as she had no idea of what was about to happen—what her father was about to say—not one bit of her was surprised when he did speak.

*

She was fuming in her seat. Zip ties around her wrists again. Part of her hoped that her father never released her because she was going to kill him herself. She wasn’t wearing shoes so there was no way Harry could find her now. If she wasn’t so angry, she would cry. Harry probably thought she was gone for good because there was just nothing—no note, no goodbye, no notice. Nothing. It broke her heart to think about leaving him; moreover, that he would think she left without saying goodbye. Her leg was aching without pain medication, and she didn’t trust herself that she could even run from the car fast enough even if she was brave enough to roll out in the middle of traffic. Which she strongly contemplated.

She looked at the man in the front seat. He didn’t speak as he drove. It made her so mad. Harry’s supervisor. She knew DSS was awful. She hoped Niall would leave the business. She hoped Harry would too.  She hadn’t seen her phone in almost a week (even if for her it was only three days), and she wanted it so badly that she could send her location to Harry. The only solace she had was that Harry would probably search every house in the city, door by door, looking for her. If she could stay alive and not pass out from the pain in her leg, she might live long enough to see Harry again.

That was if this man didn’t kill her first.

*

Harry nearly dropped her coffee in the doorway, seeing her empty bed. The flowers and note were still on the table. All her belongings were still neatly piled on the mini sofa under the window. He checked the bathroom, nothing. “She was just checked out by her father,” the nurse said behind Harry. “He had an event or something; they had to leave in a hurry,” she explained the remnants of his favorite person left behind.

No shoes. Harry groaned. At least she was with her father.

He texted Niall. What event does The Secretary have?

??? Niall responded.

Harry felt his stomach drop, seeing the question marks, but did his best to ignore it. Maybe Niall wasn’t privy. It would just make things more complicated. He could always go back to her place and wait for her. Maybe he’d make her those California burritos she kept showing him—the ones with French Fries in it.

She’s checked out of the hospital. The nurse said they have an event.

Niall called him almost instantly. “You’re off the detail still,” he reminded him in a hushed whisper.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “She doesn’t have her phone back because she was kidnapped if you recall. M’also the one that found her. Do me a favor.”

Sighing, Niall muttered curses under his breath. “There’s nothing on his calendar, Harry.”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t just leave without me,” he said. “Not after that.”

“Harry, you know she does this. I know it’s different for you...but this isn’t uncommon for her. Plus, if she’s with her dad then...I mean...he’s probably mad despite,” Niall sighed heavily. “Look, I know what you did and why you did it but—”

“Niall, shut up,” he nearly groaned dropping his head back in annoyance.

The anxiety was increasing. His hand started to shake holding the phone to his ear, feeling something ominous before it fully registered. “M’not even supposed to be talking to you—especially when I’m at work,” he muttered. “There’s nothing on the schedule—oh...oh my God.”

“What, Niall?” Harry spit, seething already.

“She’s with her dad?” He asked tentatively.

“Yes, thankfully,” even if Harry didn’t like him and she hated him, at least he was her family.

Niall was silent. “No...” he shook his head. Harry could sense it. “Not thankfully Harry.”

Harry did drop the coffee cup then, struggled a bit as he grabbed her box and bag of belongings. He was only vaguely aware of Niall’s voice and the sound of the nurse shouting after him as he sprinted for the exit. Harry was all but public enemy number one at the hospital and for DSS. Without her defense, he had no leads, no help. Niall was listing the main points. Her dad paid someone. Her mom wasn’t supposed to die. But of course, her mom wouldn’t let her daughter die. It would bring a sympathetic vote.

He was going to kill her for more power, pity. A broken family man who would do anything to bring the people responsible for his family, his lovely wife and his beautiful daughter to justice.

Harry had a lot to make up for, given that he shot her no less than four days ago. It was a miracle she didn’t bleed out. He was never going to forgive himself, even if she already had. But he felt so totally helpless. There were no leads. No one knew where she was.

Part of him believed the division didn’t even care if she died because she was a pain in the ass. Harry was without a weapon, without resources. He made it to his car, dumped her bag of everything she had on the back seat and sifted through it all looking for a clue, the biggest clue he hoped could be there. Her dead phone, her jeans with the blood soaked through and through, her sweatshirt with her college’s name across the front also soaked with blood—he had to get her another one...why did he keep thinking about that!—a pair of Christmas earrings, and those perfect shoes with the little AirTag in them that saved her life once, but wouldn’t be able to save her again.

The only solace he had was knowing she was the strongest wildflower he had ever met.

And the tracking device he put in her scrunchie wasn’t in her belongings that he had spread out across his backseat.

*

“Why did he even have me?” She grumbled out the window. She was somehow calm. Probably because it was her father. All along. Someone she knew well...someone she should have realized was at the source of all this craziness. At least it wasn’t like the driver who held her at gunpoint.

“Your mother wanted you,” he stated simply.

“And his plan was to kill me?” She rolled her eyes. No wonder mom died. She would never let that happen to me. “Why didn’t he just...not be with Mom? Why did he have to ruin both our lives...all of our lives?”

“Love makes you do weird things. You should know that. Look what happened to you with Harry. Never thought I’d see the day you like an agent and here you are falling in love with one.”

She didn’t like the way he brought up Harry. She glared out the window trying to think of an escape. Something Harry told her when they went over her fail-safe ideas, it had to be somewhere in the back of her mind. Even the general safety tips from DSS that she hated so much, they had to come in handy now.

Would their loyalty to her father mean they couldn’t stop him from killing her? It was quite a humble moment for her. All those years of torturing agents and creating mountains of paperwork, building walls up so she didn’t even need protection...now they would probably let her die as the opportunity had presented itself.

Once more, she thought if she wasn’t so mad, she would probably just cry and cry and cry.

She wished Harry would suddenly appear and fix it.

She really wished he got to put tracking devices in her clothes before she was kidnapped.

Again.

*

Harry was trying to keep calm because the last thing he needed was a car accident on his way to her blinking little dot on his map. He impatiently watched it blip keeping a safe distance but not so far that he couldn’t get to her quicker if need be.

Where was he taking her now?

Niall informed Harry that the driver that he placed two bullet holes in, caved for a deal immediately. He told them exactly who he was hired by and even if her father got out of this situation, there was no way it wasn’t shady.

She’s never going to forgive me for tracking her.He thought to himself. Where on earth were they going? She’s never going to let me live it down that DSS is actual Hell.He thought. That’s good. Keep thinking about never’s. She’ll live just to say I told you so.

That, Harry was certain.

*

Mom liked the water. Her stories of growing up on the coast were one of the main reasons she wanted to go to school in a city by the water. There were tons of great schools of course, but it kept her close to her mom as well. She remembered her mom taking her for college visits nearby like it were yesterday and how she showed her all her old haunts and some of the best and most lovely places to get away for a bit and just be in nature.

It was poetic, in a way. Dying where one of her happiest memories with her mom would be. A nice overlook with some rough waves—especially when it was windy and winter.

Which of course it was.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Your father pays me,” he reminded her.

She stared at him. “You’re a coward,” she stated simply then looked out the window to keep from crying. She was not going to give him the satisfaction. “Why here?” She asked.

“A visit for old time’s sake; you and Dad just want to remember Mom...” He explained.

Other than the sound of the tires rolling on the road, it was silent in the car. She wished she could move her hands. Wished she could escape. Wished she wasn’t a sitting duck and could just do something, anything! Even if it was wrong. “Did you kill my mom, too?” She had to know.

“Your mom chose—”

She shook her head, this time the tears filled her eyes. “No, if you’re going to kill me, you’re going to tell me the truth. Did you kill her?”

He didn’t answer. But it was the only answer she needed.

Swallowing thickly, she silently prayed to every god she could think of, every spirit, every entity, every power in the universe. But mostly she thought so very hard about her mom. Like she told Harry, she believed she was out there, somewhere. Her spirit was too strong and stubborn to just fizzle out.

If her spirit was out there, there wasn’t a chance she would let something happen to her nor Harry if she asked.

“That driver you got is going to turn on you,” she said knowingly.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He parked at the little spot, pulled her out of the car, the icy wind chilled her immediately. With just socks on her feet, it felt like her toes went numb immediately. Her leg ached and she grimaced and groaned in pain as he pulled on her arm toward the edge of the cliff where she could hear the waves crashing against the rocky side. “He was just a pawn.”

“So are you...Dad will sell you out too.”

“Once your dad gets what he wants, anything I could be blamed for will simply be pardoned,” he told her.

Her heart was so loud in her ears. It was so cold tears were now in her eyes and she had no control over it. It was bad.

What was the last thing she said to Harry before she took a nap? She wished it was I love you. She wished so very badly that it was something of worth because this was horrific. Harry was never going to know she loved him. He had to know, right? She told him all of those personal things, how she asked him questions about his favorites, and all those things they did together even though they weren’t quite a couple but not quite the typical protector-protectee relationship. She needed him to know.

She hoped he knew.

“So th-this is it?” She asked, her teeth chattering. She couldn’t even wrap her arms around herself for warmth because of the stupid zip ties. It wasn’t fair. “You’re going t-to push m-me off the cliff? S-someone,” Harry for certain would never believe the lie he told. Whatever that was going to be, “is going to sus-spect—”

“No,” he smiled wryly. “It was an accident,” he explained. “You fell into the water looking too closely. Slipped. Banged your head. Tragic. After all your fighting to get better, too,” he shrugged. “It’s a real shame,” he said pulling her toward the edge.

She was unbalanced as it was; her leg was probably aching, and her hands couldn’t outstretch to support the awkward angle he was holding her.

Harry could practically smell her floral scented shampoo even from his cover of the trees. He had to park over half a mile away, in a turn off hidden by a bunch of trees. It was a miracle he wasn’t gasping for breath loud enough to be heard from how fast he sprinted to get to her little blinking dot. From his standpoint, he could almost see the determined look on her face. He had never admired her as much as he did as he watched her then.

If there was one thing she hated more than DSS, it was being underestimated. And more than anything, Harry knew that she was going to fight, as she always did, to her very last stubborn breath. He was only slightly less worried because at least she wasn’t bleeding profusely. He could get to her if he needed to in a graver situation. But he wanted his supervisor gone. Harry was also without a weapon and therefore at a severe disadvantage. The pocketknife he had on him wouldn’t do much against the gun he could see in his holster.

But he could see that beautiful glittering scrunchie twisted in her hair. Her favorite. His favorite. He was strongly considering (and hoping) asking her if they could just put a chip in her.

He hurried down along the side of the cliff. The drama of this setup was too much for Harry. There was so much history behind it. It was all plotted and planned perfectly—if that was the sort of goal someone terrible wanted to accomplish; Harry could admit that. He kept cover behind some rocks to make sure if anything went awry, they wouldn’t notice him—he couldn’t notice Harry.

Harry hoped she knew he would find her again. He wished she wasn’t scared because he knew behind that strong façade, she was probably terrified. With no way of communicating to her that he would never let anything happen to her ever again, bodyguard or not, she had to be more scared than she ever had been.

Harry could vaguely hear him still talking to her, taunting her. The words didn’t reach his ears because of the wind and the sound of the waves. He was desperate for him to shut up. But he couldn’t look. If he saw her fall...

The moment he heard a splash his heart nearly gave out. Within seconds the sound of an engine disappearing was enough for Harry to finally turn around to see her struggling to get her bearings between the waves and only one functioning extremity. Diving into the chilly winter water, he hoped it wasn’t too late to save her again.

--

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[superlarva]

Much needed cuddles!

Raising Dominoes has reached double digits!!! I've never been this committed to a project before and I can't wait to share more!

Here's Chapter 10 - Reunited.

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 09 Next chapter: 11

Summary: Rex and Fives visit Echo at the hospital.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, food insecurities, hospitals, missing limbs

Chapter 10 – Reunited

Fives bolted into Echo’s room before Rex could even think about stopping him. One second the boy had been holding his hand, the next the door was beginning to swing shut after him.

In the split second that Rex had been able to see into the room, he caught sight of a familiar figure in a long white coat standing next to a bed occupied by a small boy. The shades were not drawn this time, and there were less machines beeping away. From the fleeting image it looked like Echo was doing better.

Rex followed Fives into the room and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the kid climbing up onto his twin’s bed. Worried that Fives was going to accidentally hurt his brother, he quickly covered the distance between them and reached for Fives, ready with a lecture about proper behavior in a hospital, but faltered when he heard a deep chuckle.

“It’s alright, Rex,” Kix said, smiling as he finished hanging a bag on an IV pole.

Rex frowned, worry etching creases in his brow.

“He’s being careful. He won’t hurt him,” Kix reassured. He walked around the bed to Rex’s side and lowered his voice so the boys would not be able to hear, “Trust me, they need this. That was the first time I’ve seen anyone get near the kid without him flinching.”

Rex nodded, but his frown deepened. Echo weakly shifted over in the bed to give Fives more room.

“See if you can get him to eat anything,” Kix whispered before turning on his heel and starting for the door. When he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at the twins and waved, “Okay, Echo, I’m going to go now. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you, alright, trooper?”

Echo made no response, but Kix did not seem to expect one since the door was already clicking shut behind him.

Rex should not have felt uneasy being left alone in a room with his twin boys. It was ridiculous, really, but the way Echo stared put him on edge. The boy’s eyes never left him, not even as Fives snuggled up next to him, close but not touching. Not even when Fives called his twin’s name.

Echo’s eyes were cold and evaluating. Sizing him up as if he were a threat. Rex supposed that was probably what he thought he was: someone else that would hit or yell, someone else that would poke and prod with needles.

Rex really only had one move. He backed away from the edge of the bed slowly and sat in the chair pulled up beside it. Echo’s eyes followed him.

It was Fives who broke the silence, “Are you better now?”

Echo blinked, his eyes slowly pulling away from Rex’s to settle on his brother, “…yes.”

His voice was so small and though he wanted to sound brave for Fives, it was more than clear he was lying. His face was pale and gaunt, his voice hoarse and dry, and he was still surrounded by bags of meds and beeping machines.

“So, we can take him home now?” Fives asked hopefully, lifting his head from the pillow to address Rex.

Rex shook his head, “We have to wait for Kix to discharge him.”

Fives let out an exasperated sigh and let his head drop back into the pillow dramatically. After a minute of silence, he turned to Echo, his voice soft, “I missed you.”

The corners of Echo’s thin lips quirked up into the image of a smile, but an image was all it was. There was no sincerity to the motion and the smile dissipated quickly, face contorting in pain, or grief, or sadness.

The boy’s mind was elsewhere, his sad eyes darting around the room before drifting back over to study Rex. Rex smiled, though he was afraid his was as empty and meaningless as Echo’s had been, “Uh, Echo, it’s nice to meet you. I’m… I’m Rex.”

Rex cringed at his awkwardness, but he forced himself to gauge the boy’s reaction. There was none. Echo remained still, eyes locked onto his.

Rex broke eye contact, dropping his gaze to the gift bag still clutched in his hand, “Oh, um, Fives, do you want to give your brother his present?”

“Oh, yeah!” Fives jumped off the bed and retrieved the bag, crinkling it around loudly as he climbed back up, kneeling at Echo’s side. He held out the present in front of his brother, “I saw this at the… the gift shop and- and Rex said I could get it for you!”

Echo reached out slowly and took the bag, letting it rest on his chest as he used his remaining arm to attempt to fish out the gift.

Fives watched his twin struggle for a moment before his excitement won out, “It’s a book!”

Echo finally pulled out the book and turned it over, looking at the cover.

“It’s a- a guide book. For Kamino- no, um- Coruscant. That’s where we are!” Fives exclaimed, excitement and his difficulty remembering what Rex had said about the book causing his words to come out breathless.

In Rex’s eyes the book was worthless—a cheap tourists’ guide to Coruscant—but it had been the only book in the gift shop, and Fives had insisted Echo would like it. Who was Rex to dispute his claim?

Echo turned the book over one more time to look at the back and set it down at his side. “Thanks,” he said quietly, looking at Fives before turning his attention to Rex, voice now so soft Rex had to strain to hear it, “Thank you, sir.”

Rex smiled, and this time he was sure it looked genuine, “You’re welcome.”

“Do you like it?” Fives asked, beaming at his brother and bouncing a little on the bed.

Echo nodded, his eyes flicking over to Rex and shoulders tensing.

He was lying.

He was lying and he thought Rex was going to what? Punish him for it? Call him out on it? Make both of them upset?

“Wow,” Fives breathed, flopping back down onto the bed, seemingly oblivious, “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” Echo repeated, tearing his eyes away from Rex to face his brother.

“Does- Does it hurt?” Fives asked, looking at the places on the sheets where the lumps ended.

“Not really, I’m just tired.”

“Can I see?”

Echo shifted to sit up a bit higher on the pillows and pulled the blankets down. The stumps where his limbs used to be were wrapped up in bandages. His right arm had been cut just above the elbow, his right leg above the knee, and his left leg below the knee. It was a miracle the paramedics had been able to arrive in time to stabilize him before he bled out.

“Not much to see,” Echo rasped, letting out a strangled laugh that quickly morphed into a coughing fit.

Rex rose from his chair instinctively, “We should get you some water.”

Echo flinched back at the sudden movement, screwing his eyes shut, coughing subsiding for a moment to allow a small whimper to escape his throat.

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting down,” Rex slowly lowered himself back into the chair.

Fives hovered over Echo, hands twitching like he wanted to touch him, but he was not sure he should. Instead of offering any sort of physical comfort, Fives opted for verbal, “It’s okay, Rex is nice. He’s nice.”

“He’s nice?” Echo managed weakly, eyes opening a crack.

“Mm-hmm! Nice,” Fives answered cheerily.

Echo began coughing again and it took all of Rex’s strength not to get up from the chair for a second time. There was a glass of water on a tray full of food next to the bed and Rex pointed to it, “Fives, can you get that water for Echo?”

Fives turned and grabbed the cup, pressing it into his twin’s hand. Echo took it and brought it to his mouth, arm trembling under the small amount of weight. Much of the water spilled down the front of the boy’s papery hospital gown and onto the sheets, but Rex was relieved to see him take a few gulps.

Echo passed the glass back to Fives and relaxed back into the pillows, giving out one final cough.

“That feels better, huh?” Rex asked, relaxing back into the chair himself.

Echo blinked, “…feels better?”

“Yeah, doesn’t it?”

The boy slowly nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“You know what else would help you feel better?”

Echo swallowed, his eyes darting over to where Fives sat next to him before returning to stare blankly at Rex, “No, sir.”

“Some food in your tummy,” Rex nodded to the tray of food by Fives.

Fives pushed the tray over to Echo, who shook his head, “I’m alright, sir.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rex questioned, concern written across his face.

“A bit,” Echo confessed after a moment. The boy dropped his eyes to the bowl of stew and looked at it like it was a cup full of bugs.

“Are you allergic?”

Echo shook his head, still watching his meal with disgust.

“You just don’t like it then?”

The boy shrugged.

“Okay…” Rex mumbled, wracking his brain for a nicer what to ask what the problem with the food was.

It turned out he did not need to.

“So then why won’t you eat it?” Fives asked.

“I…” Echo started, his voice barely audible, “I don’t deserve it.”

Everything stopped for a moment: the beeping of the machines, the little particles dancing in the waning light, even the beating of Rex’s heart. The kid thought he did not deserve hospital food. Hospital food. It brought Rex back to the first night he brought home Fives, when the boy had cried because he was “being too nice” to him.

Vaguely Rex wondered if Echo thought he did not deserve the meal because it was nicer than whatever type of sustenance he was used to, or because he was accustomed to having to work for his food. Neither option made Rex very happy.

In fact, he was angry.

No, angry was not quite right.

He was livid.

Rex gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before his heart exploded with rage. When he opened his eyes he was met with twin sets of chocolate colored irises staring back at him.

His heart melted, “You deserve it, Echo.”

The boy kept his face unnaturally still and Rex wished he could read what was going on under that carefully maintained mask.

“You deserve it,” Rex repeated, louder this time. He looked down at the floor, hoping to hide the sadness in his eyes, “Everyone deserves to be able to eat when they’re hungry.”

The room was silent again. Rex did not dare look up from his shoes. He did not know if he could bear looking into their innocent faces after everything they had been through because of him. Because he had done everything he could to not look back.

If only he had, then he would have found them earlier, before-

“I can eat it,” Echo’s quiet voice cut through Rex’s thoughts.

He snapped his head up to see both boys looking at the tray of food with downcast expressions.

“I’m sorry, sir” Echo muttered, his shoulders tensing, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“What? No, no, I’m not upset,” Rex said, waving his hands around as if that would prove his sincerity. The last thing he wanted was for his boys to be tiptoeing around him and worrying about upsetting him.

The twins looked up at him skeptically.

“Not upset,” Rex reassured, giving them a small smile, “Not upset, just- Hey! I’ve got an idea.”

Echo’s head tilted to the side, one eyebrow cocking up in interest.

Rex turned to Fives, “Hey, bud, are you hungry?”

“Uh-huh?” Fives’ brows crinkled together.

“Why don’t we go down to the cafeteria real quick and get some dinner to bring back here? Then we can all eat together.”

“Okay,” Fives agreed easily, sliding off the bed. Once his feet hit the ground he turned back to his twin, “Okay?”

Echo nodded, “Okay.”

The rest of the evening was spent answering Fives’s one hundred and one questions about the hospital and watching Echo slowly pick at his food long after both Rex and Fives had finished. When he finally pushed it away, he had only gotten through around half, but when Kix came in to say goodbye at the end of his shift, he seemed ecstatic that any of it was gone at all, so Rex counted that as a win.

At around 8 pm both boys were exhausted. Rex was about to suggest that he take Fives home for the night when the boy passed the Coruscant guidebook to his twin, “Can you read to me?”

Echo smiled softly and took the book, sandwiching it between his chest and his hand so he would be able to keep it steady as he read.

There was no way Rex was interrupting this. He leaned back in his chair and listened to Echo rattle off facts about the Bureau of Ships and Services Heritage Museum.

After a few minutes Fives shifted in the bed next to his brother. “Cuddle?” He asked, looking at Echo hopefully.

Echo put down the book for a moment to pat his shoulder, “Here.”

Fives smiled sleepily and inched closer to his twin to rest his head on his shoulder.

Echo resumed reading and in no time at all Fives was asleep. Rex watched as Echo carefully set the book down so as not to disturb his brother. He then pulled the covers up around Fives’s shoulders. As he did, he noticed Rex looking at them and frowned in a silent question.

“You take such good care of your brother,” Rex said softly.

Echo looked down at Fives, a real, true smile spreading across his face, “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

It’s Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Castiel

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: after an incident with a school bully, you’re hospitalized and end up with amnesia

It wasn’t that bad. You could handle it. You’d be gone in a few weeks anyway.

This was the mantra you repeated to yourself every morning as you stepped out of the Impala, waved goodbye to Dean, and entered the school.

You had to repeat it to yourself, because otherwise you’d give in and tell your big brothers everything, and let them take care of it.

You told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t do that this time; you shouldn’t need them to save you every time something went wrong. Besides, it was just a bunch of high school bullies. What was the worst they could do?

You were about to find out the answer to that question the hard way.

…

“I told you to hand it over!”

You looked around for a teacher, or any sort of help, but there was no one.

Three upper classmen had you cornered, and you knew you couldn’t take them all. But you’d also been raised by John, Dean, and Sam Winchester, so when the biggest one demanded that you hand over every dollar you had—which wasn’t that much to begin with—you couldn’t help but jut out your jaw and stare defiantly up at him.

“You deaf?” You cringed as he shoved you and the back of your head slammed against the locker.

“I heard you,” you shoved his hands away from you.

“And?” He stood there expectantly, proudly. You glared at him. He really thought he’d won this? You didn’t break so easily.

“And screw you.”

Not exactly the cleverest comeback, but anything to portray your contempt to this animal would do. It did the trick. Perhaps too well.

“What’d you say to me?”

That angry growl was the last thing you heard before you were slammed backwards into the lockers, and everything went dark.

…

“She’s waking up!”

A deep voice thrummed in your ears as you blinked your eyes open, the bright lights making you squint.

“Hey sweetie,” you looked up to see a blond man staring down at you, his green eyes scanning your face.

“Hi…” you glanced around the small room and saw another man, tall with brown hair, staring at you too. “Are you a doctor?” The men didn’t look like doctors, but you couldn’t think of another reason for them to be here.

“What?” The dark-haired man stepped closer to your bed, a frown contorting his features. “Y/N it’s us.”

“Yeah baby, it’s Dean,” the blond man insisted, and you stared at them blankly.

Y/N? Dean? The names floated around the edges of your brain, and you tried to grab hold of them. You knew those names, yet you didn’t.

“I don’t understand,” you finally admitted. “I-I mean…I don’t recognize you.”

The boys shared a meaningful glance, and the blond one—Dean—left, stopping outside your door to talk to a doctor.

“Honey, it’s…it’s Sam,” the dark haired man looked down at you. “You don’t recognize me?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Who are you?”

“I-“ Sam opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, then spoke. “I-I’m your big brother.”

“What about-“ you gestured to Dean.

“Yeah, him too,” Sam was staring at you incredulously. “You really don’t-“

“Hello,” the doctor stepped into the room, followed by Dean. “I’ve heard we have a bit of a problem in here.”

“I don’t remember,” your voice came out small. Everything felt so overwhelming; the bright lights, the heart monitor beeping, the two men—strangers—who seemed to know you.

“What don’t you remember?” The doctor asked gently. You thought about it.

“Anything.”

…

The doctor discharged you that night, since physically you were recovered, even if you still didn’t remember anything. He’d said that once the trauma wore off a bit, and your head recovered with some more rest, the memories should begin to resurface.

The boys weren’t so sure, and needless to say that terrified them.

“This is ours,” Sam gestured to the Impala when he noticed you glancing around the parking lot helplessly.

You nodded wordlessly and slid into the backseat while the boys got in the front.

After a minute, Dean spoke, directing his words to Sam.

“We should try for Cas. He can help her.”

“Um, Dean, maybe we should wait,” Sam glanced back nervously at you, and you frowned.

“Who’s Cas?”

“Our angel friend, he’s gonna help you remember.” Sam’s head jerked in Dean’s direction.

“Dean!”

“Your…I don’t understand.”

“Hey Cas!” Dean suddenly called out. “We need some help down here, it’s Y/N.”

Silence.

“What was supposed to happen?” You asked hesitantly. Was this guy insane?

“You’ll see when he decides to come,” Dean promised.

“Dean-“

“Ah, here we are,” Dean cut off Sam as he pulled the Impala into a motel parking lot.

“Where are we?” You directed your question to Sam as Dean stepped out of the car.

“A motel,” he answered awkwardly.

“Don’t we have a house?”

“Nope,” was Dean’s response as he opened your door, gesturing for you to get out.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam jumped in. “I’m sure you want to get some rest.”

“Is it my night?” Dean asked, referring to the arrangement the brothers had of switching who had to share a bed with you.

“I’m taking the couch,” Sam announced. “She can have the bed.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Can you fit on that thing?”

“Um…what’s this?” You asked as you lifted the gun that you’d seen sticking out from under your pillow.

“It’s yours,” Dean told you. “You keep it there for protection. Even though I’ve told you a million times that I’ve got one so you don’t need one,” he added this last part under his breath, but you still heard it.

“P-protection from what?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“Dean, can I talk to you alone?” Sam jumped in, not waiting for a response as he dragged Dean outside.

“What?” Dean asked.

“What? Are you insane?” Sam hissed.

“What are you talking about? The doctor said to treat her as we normally would, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’re terrifying her is what you’re doing! Dean she’s just a kid.”

“A kid? Dude, it’s Y/N.”

“Yeah, Y/N without any memories of monsters, or the family business, or-or why there’s a freaking gun under her pillow!”

“Look, she’s going to remember sooner or later, and then she’ll understand all of this, I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that she’s not herself right now, and we have no clue when she’s getting her memories back,” Sam insisted. “So we can’t just pretend like nothing is wrong! You can’t start talking to Cas, or any of the other things that are going to make her thing we’re insane.”

“She’s going to remember,” Dean’s voice had gone quieter, but no less resolved.

“Of course she is,” Sam amended, realization hitting him. “I’m not saying she won’t. But we need to be patient with her; if we scare her off, it’s going to be harder to get her to trust us. It’s going to be a million times harder for her to remember if she’s not comfortable around us.”

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Dean admitted. “I don’t know how to talk her her. I mean, it’s her, but it’s not her. I can’t talk to her like she’s some stranger.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam promised. “Just…just try to leave out the monsters. And the angels while you’re at it.”

“I’ll try,” Dean agreed reluctantly. “But Cas better come through soon, because we can’t keep this from her for long.”

“You called?”

Both boys’ heads swung in the direction of the angel’s voice.

“Hello Sam and Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I heard you needed help.”

…

Sam was surprised when he opened the motel door to see you in the midst of walking out. You were going so fast that you slammed into him, and he brought up his hands to steady you.

“Whoa, hey, where you going?” He asked, frowning when he noticed your eyes darting wildly around with panic. “Are you ok?”

Sam noticed Dean looking over your shoulder, and he did the same, inwardly groaning when he noticed the cause of your distress. You’d opened one of their duffels, and their array of weapons was splayed out on one of the beds.

“Hey,” Sam spoke softly, trying to bring down your terror. “I-I know that that looks freaky, but we-“

“This is insane!” You pulled out of his reach and attempted to run, but Dean grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the ground, carrying you back into the motel room.

“Cas, get in here,” he demanded, and Cas obeyed, looking more than a little confused.

“What’s going on?” He questioned. “I thought you said she needed help.”

“She hit her head,” Sam explained, “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“No wonder she’s terrified,” Castiel said. “You’re frightening to people who don’t know you.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Let go!” You made your presence known by kicking Dean hard in the leg, and he grunted but kept his hold on you.

“Alright, take it easy!” He held you at arms length, your back to the wall. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” You demanded. “Are you guys even my brothers?”

Dean’s body went rigid. He stared down at you, trying to push away the ache in his heart.

“Of course we are,” his voice had gone quiet, and desperation tinged his tone. “Of course we’re your brothers. Baby it’s Dean, you can trust me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice quavered, and he swallowed hard. “Cas, do it.”

“Who is that?” Your panic returned when Cas advanced on you, and you started to struggle in Dean’s arms. “Who is he? What is-what is he doing?”

“Just be still,” Dean said.

“Let me go! Cut it out!” Cas didn’t even flinch when you launched a kick at his shin.

“Baby we’re trying to help you, please just trust me.”

“I can’t trust you!” You yelled in response to Dean’s plea. “I don’t even know you!”

“Yes you do,” Dean’s green eyes overtook the whole of your vision when he leaned closer to you. “Somewhere in there, you know who we are. It’s me, it’s Dean. I know you’re scared, ok? I know you don’t understand. But just look at me, ok? It’s me, you can trust me.”

And you did. Impossibly, inexplicably, you looked into those dark green eyes and felt only safety, only comfort, even when he was currently holding you against a wall while a strange man in a trench coat approached you with his hand outstretched.

You didn’t fight it, allowing the man to place to fingers on your head, all the while keeping your gaze completely on those eyes.

The eyes of your big brother.

A soft glow came from the man’s fingers, and suddenly it felt as though a filter was being removed from your eyes.

You blinked. Those green eyes were still right there, but you saw them a little differently now.

“Dean?” You whispered.

A relieved smile broke out on his face.

“Hey baby.”

“Dean!” He staggered back a half-step when you threw yourself into his arms. Sam’s soft laughter could be heard behind him, and you pulled away from Dean to hug your other brother.

“It’s good to have you back,” he said, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“And you remember everything?” Cas asked, wanting to be sure it worked completely.

You grinned, “Everything.” As soon as you pulled away from Sam, Dean pulled you in for another embrace and you laughed. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up,” he said.

But he didn’t let go.

[daisyvisions]

Hate is a Strong Word - Part 2

Pairing: Enemies with Benefits! Sangyeon x Fem! reader Synopsis: When one kiss sends both of you into a spiral, are you able to resist or give up everything to do it again? Word Count: 6,385 (phew 😮‍💨) Warnings: (18+, Minors DNI), explicit smut (?), unprotected sex, fingering, some coercion (consent is key ALWAYS okay?), heavy sexual tension, lots of cuss words, hot muscley dark-haired Sangyeon (yes that’s a warning), some mutual pining, dirty talk, pet name (sweetheart), lots the word “god” but not used religiously A/N: Finally, a fic where I don’t leave people hanging 😌 I’m so sorry this took longer than it should’ve! I wanted to be sure that the storyline didn’t go far away from the plot of the 1st part! And also, this made me wanna makeout with Sangyeon until I couldn't feel my lips ngl 😵‍💫 Enjoy!

Read Part 1 Here!

───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“Oh, Sangyeon-” you whimper.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you like this…” he groans into your mouth.

Sangyeon never thought he’d end up seeing you the way you are right now: panting breathlessly, telling him to thrust harder, gripping his shoulders tightly, allowing him to fuck you so good that you’re a babbling mess. Everything felt like a haze, like it was a dream.

“S-Sangyeon, I’m gonna-“

Your shaky voice and contorted face were signaling your approaching climax. He couldn’t wait to see you come undone for him. But just as you were about to, your figure suddenly disappears beneath him in a blink of an eye… What the fuck?

Beep… beep… beep!

The blaring sound of his alarm abruptly wakes him up. His eyes shoot open, staring at the ceiling in confusion. He was covered in sweat, felt like his head was spinning… and was incredibly hard. The front of his boxers was practically drenched in his precum.

Another wet dream.

“Shit, not again…” he flips and groans into his pillow.

He rubs his face vigorously, trying to shake the dream off his mind. Normally he could go about his day as if it didn’t happen, but this dream was the most vivid one by far. It was making him dread seeing you in class today.

It was just a dream, keep it together for fuck’s sake. But he knows himself all too well to know that was a lie.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

It had been a few weeks since the incident inside the closet and you’d been avoiding Sangyeon like the plague. Even your friends started noticing you don’t talk shit about him as much as you used to, but you reassured them that you just didn’t have the mental energy to do so anymore.

You’re not going to lie to yourself. Sometimes the memory of that moment randomly plays in your head when you least expect it to. Remembering the warmth that radiated from his body, his strong muscles holding you close, and his soft plump lips against yours. How you secretly wished it could happen again.

But you obviously couldn’t tell anyone about it, you would rather eat dirt than admit that. So you preferred to just suppress whatever the hell you were feeling about him and just move on with your life.

For Sangyeon however, it seemed like the more days passed by, the effects of that incident had gotten worse for him to handle. It’s not like he was harboring any crush on you beforehand, it was more of a weird mix between his carnal desires and his dying curiosity on what could've happened.

Besides his recurring wet dreams, he just couldn't stop thinking about your heavenly lips. How sweet you tasted, how you sounded moaning his name, the way they molded so perfectly into his. He was getting too addicted.

And no matter what he did, those thoughts of you would remain in his mind. He tried to avoid you as much as he could despite sharing almost all classes together. It was even more difficult especially when you’d pass by and the whiff of your scent would linger in the air, baiting him to follow you.

There have been multiple times where he’d end up staring at you from afar longer than he should’ve (in which he almost got caught by one of his friends.) He knew his so-called rivalry with you was already obsessive in nature, but this? It was a whole other level, a game he didn’t know how to play.

Believe me, he did everything he could to forget you and that moment. He even tried to jerk it off but that didn’t help at all! It just made his deep-seeded lust for you grow even worse.

And you didn't even have to do anything to get him this riled up. One glance from you, seeing your figure from the distance, hearing your voice in passing, anything you did had become too addicting than he could bear.

To him, you were like a siren trying to lure him into dark waters and he was slowly starting to drown into depths of desire he knew he shouldn't have gone into… because now he wanted more.

He kept thinking of the many possible ways to try and get you alone like that again, but that was already a challenge in itself.

But he always loved a challenge, especially if it involved you. Sangyeon was incredibly determined to find a way to put an end to this madness once and for all.

No matter what, he’ll do whatever it takes as long as he gets what he wants… you.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

Tennis shoes were squeaking against the newly polished floors of the hallway as you sprinted, you were running late to your 8AM class. Juggling your part-time and studies was starting to take a toll on you, causing you to lack sleep and become more forgetful than you ever were before. So naturally, you forgot to set your alarm today.

The moment you reach the door, you’re immediately greeted by the smile of your professor.

“Oh, Miss L/n. There you are! You’re just on time. I thought you weren’t going to make it today.”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Park. It won't happen again,” you reply as you try to catch your breath.

“That’s alright! We’re going to watch a documentary today, nothing to be stressed about. But since your usual spot has been taken, you’re just gonna have to fill in the last seat at the back.”

Your eyes follow where Mr. Park points out. From a distance you see a small shared table at the top of the steps, a secluded area from the other seats in the room.

Your eyes snap at the figure occupying the seat next to yours and your chest suddenly tightens seeing who it was.

Oh god, not beside… him.

It was like the universe was playing another sick joke on you. You sighed and accepted your fate, nodding at your professor before walking up to the back of the room.

You try to keep your eyes glued to the floor to avoid looking at his face. Sangyeon on the other hand hasn’t stopped staring at you the moment you entered the room, especially with the dream he just had the night before burning at the back of his mind.

He was too mesmerized by your aura, as if there was a beautiful glow around you. He was so lost in his own mind he didn’t even realize how fixated his gaze was on you, everything else around him drowning out until you were the only thing visible in his line of vision. Just like a moth to a flame.

Even without looking at him, you already knew he was staring at you, feeling his eyes burn holes right through your figure. You don't know why he kept on staring at you today but the way he did was similar to an animal waiting for its prey, black orbs waiting for your next move before they could strike.

You were used to getting death glares from him before but this? It made you feel different. You started feeling knots form in your stomach, the very same ones you felt when you were with him in that closet.

Get a grip y/n, don’t think of him that way. Not when you’re beside him.

You drop your things on the table, making him snap out of his trance. You try to rile him up like how you used to before, “What are you staring at loser? Like what you see?” You blurt out while avoiding his gaze, trying to play it cool.

“Maybe I do… Would that be a problem?” He raises one of his eyebrows. Oh god, why’d you say that to her?

You whip your head and look at him in confusion, a pink blush subtly appearing on your cheeks. “W-wha-”

But before you even have the chance to reply the classroom lights close and the documentary in front starts playing, signaling you to take your seat.

You inhale and let out a big sigh. Everything’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. As long as you don’t turn your head in his direction and keep a good distance, being in a dark room beside him won’t bother you one bit…

Or will it?

───────•°•❀•°•───────

Time passes by agonizingly slower than you thought. You couldn’t wait to get out of that classroom and get as far away from him as possible before you start getting any unwanted thoughts in your mind.

Truth be told, it was really hard keeping your distance, especially when the space between you two is a bit cramped so you have no choice but to be physically closer to one another. Who’s idea was to have only one small shared table at the back of the room?

It really didn’t help the fact that you could smell his intoxicating masculine scent and the warmth radiating from his body being so close to him, making you feel slightly lightheaded.

And it REALLY didn’t help when your eyes accidentally glanced over at his hand on the table. The way his veins moved beneath his tan skin, reminding you how those rough hands had touched you before.

No, no, no! You’re not about to think of him like this again.

While you were internally struggling, the close proximity between you two was also giving Sangyeon an incredibly difficult time. You were so close yet so far from him, it was making his chest tighten. He was so tempted to give into you, but he knew he couldn't right now. So he tried his best to keep his focus on the screen ahead.

The sudden shift in your movement to cross your legs, however, backfired his attempt to resist, currently placing him in a dangerous spot. While you shifted your leg, your foot accidentally nudged him, causing him to glance at your legs under the table. His eyes widened at the view before him.

Shit…he shouldn’t have looked down there.

It only occurred to him just now that you were wearing a skirt today, exposing the soft skin of your legs, the ones he caressed before. He secretly liked it when you wore dresses or skirts to school (even before the incident mind you). But there’s a little detail about the skirt that sets him completely off…

No fucking way. Please no. He internally panics.

Out of all days, you just happen to be wearing the exact same skirt during the incident. (Don’t ask him why he remembers.) All the memories came rushing in his head in a flash. Remembering the hunger in your eyes, your kisses, your moans…

His cock instantly throbs hard at the thought, making it strain against his jeans. He bites his lower lip to refrain from letting out a groan, trying not to think of the events that could’ve happened next if you two had stayed in that closet. But that obviously doesn’t work as his mind drifts into these lewd thoughts.

The thought of how he would’ve taken you then and there, making sure every inch of you felt good under his touch, moaning out his name deliciously, holding onto him for dear life while he fucks the living shit out of you…

He feels his heart rate increase rapidly. All these thoughts have his mind dangling on a string. If he doesn’t do something about it right now, he might go insane.

You sense something’s off with Sangyeon by the way he’s nervously shaking his leg and the whites of his knuckles appearing on his hand as he balls them into a fist. What’s up with him? You wondered.

You never saw him like this before and it genuinely concerned you but you were unsure of what to do. You almost think about tapping his shoulder but hesitate. Should I ask him if he’s oka-

Your inner thought is suddenly cut off by his warm hand quickly gripping your exposed thigh, slowly inching its way near your core. You look at him with frantic eyes.

“Sangyeon, what the fuck!” You quietly gasp.

“Shh… Just keep your eyes on the screen.” his low husky voice instructing you on what to do while his eyes are focused on the documentary playing.

For some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to respond or push back, so you decide to just let whatever this was play out and see where it goes.

As you keep your eyes focused on the documentary, Sangyeon continues to massage your thigh, his fingers kneading the soft skin underneath.

You tried so hard to hold back a whimper from coming out of your mouth at his burning touch. God his hand feels so good.

And honestly, Sangyeon had no clue what the fuck he was doing either. All he was thinking of was wanting to touch you and the next thing he knows his hand is caressing your inner thigh. It seemed his body had betrayed him yet again.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Trying to remain calm and focusing your attention elsewhere while the man you’ve been secretly lusting for has his hand dangerously near your throbbing core.

His thumb continuously brushes your inner thigh, practically millimeters away from grazing against the wet patch forming in your panties. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, practically calling him to go even further.

Fuck, I wanna touch her so bad, he thinks. His restraint was deteriorating by the second.

He’s so close. You internally cried out of frustration, pressing your lips together.

It pained you how easily he could just slip his fingers inside and touch you where you wanted him to… but he didn’t.

You let out a small whimper out of protest that only the two of you could hear, making Sangyeon’s eyes roll back.

Oh god… It’s the sweet sound he’s been wanting to hear from your lips again, poisoning his ears like they did the first time. His grip on your thigh gets tighter.

“Fuck, you’re killing me right now sweetheart…” he whispers in your ear, the vibration of his voice sending an electrifying throb down to your core.

You couldn't take it anymore, you never felt so desperate in your life. Something HAD to be done or else you’d go insane.

Sangyeon suddenly feels your hand on top of his tightly, gripping them as hard as he was on your thigh. You wanted him to touch you, to have his strong fingers abuse your sensitive bud like he owned it.

“Sangyeon…” you whisper.

You both turn to face each other, only realizing how close your face is to his. Hot breath fanning over your lips, his eyes flickering down to stare at them.

He desperately wanted to kiss you right now. To revel in the softness of your touch, to taste the sweetness of your lips, to be placed under your spell once again and transcend into paradise.

He inches forward a bit more, his bottom lip lightly brushing yours. The proximity between you two makes your breath hitch, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

Just as he thought he’d finally get to feel your lips again, a booming sound of claps echo in the room, making the two of you pull away from each other quickly before the lights turn back on.

“Okay! Don’t forget to turn in your paper on this documentary by Friday. See you all til then!” Everyone starts dispersing out of the classroom, walking to wherever they need to be.

“Y/n…” Sangyeon tries to call for your attention, but you quickly pack your things and bolt out of the classroom, leaving him again like last time before anything could escalate.

“Shit-” he mutters to himself.

Looks getting to you will be harder than it appears to be.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

The day isn't even over and you already felt like you were all over the place, feeling so distraught and confused by what had happened this morning. You almost fell into his trap! What were you thinking?

The frustration made you lose your appetite. You kept on poking the food in front of you with your fork, thinking of what could’ve happened next. The thoughts running in your mind were driving you insane.

Jacob plopped down at the seat next to you. He’s noticed something was off with you for quite some time, you weren't your usual self ever since the day of that test you mentioned to him.

“Y/n?” You suddenly hear Jacob’s sweet voice calling out to you, snapping you back to reality.

“Hey… you okay? You hardly touched your food.” he asks, rubbing your back in the process.

“Oh, uhm. Yeah I’m fine. Just not in the mood that’s all. Been lacking sleep lately.”

Your response makes Jacob pout, he knows you more than anyone else. And he definitely knows the difference between when you're lacking sleep and something internally bothering you. Of course, he doesn't try to pry and leaves you be. He gently squeezes your hand to let you know that he’s there for you, you softly smile back at him in response.

Meanwhile, Sangyeon was looking over at your table the whole time during lunch. His eyes were just glued to your figure, thinking of how close he almost got to kiss you again.

His line of vision is abruptly cut when Hyunjae sits down in front of him at his table.

“Hey, are you going to Eric’s party this Saturday?” Hyunjae immediately asks.

“Hm? Oh, uh yeah I think so. Why?” Sangyeon replies, trying to distract himself from thinking of you.

“Cool, cool. So… you think Y/n’s gonna be there too?” There was a quick moment of silence, Sangyeon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/n?” He repeats.

“Yeah!” Hyunjae replies enthusiastically.

“Uh, I don’t really know. Why do you ask?” Sangyeon responds skeptically.

“Oh man, I think she’s REALLY pretty. I’ve talked to her a couple of times thanks to Jacob.” Hyunjae sheepishly says. “I actually might think of asking her out soon, maybe if she wants to come to the party with me.”

Sangyeon’s jaw immediately clenched at Hyunjae’s confession. The thought of someone else getting in the way between you two pissed him off for some reason. He tries to hide this strange feeling bubbling inside him by looking down at his food and taking a bite.

“Oh… okay. Are you sure about that though? Does she like you back or something?” Sangyeon passive aggressively utters.

“I don't know. But I always get good vibes from her when we talk. I know you guys don’t like each other but I swear she’s so fun to be with. Did I mention she’s really pretty too?” Hyunjae rambles.

The way Hyunjae stresses on how pretty you are has Sangyeon gripping his utensil hard, nearly bending it in half. As if he had a chance. If only he knew what happened between the two of you and how he made you feel good. Sangyeon thinks to himself, feeling cocky that you’ll turn Hyunjae’s offer down.

But he was about to find out how incredibly wrong he was.

Hyunjae suddenly stands up from his seat and walks away from the table. Sangyeon whips his head up, wondering where Hyunjae is running off to.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m gonna ask her right now!” Hyunjae shouts back, still walking his way towards you.

Sangyeon watches Hyunjae like a hawk, the unsettling feeling inside him burning through the roof. He sees Hyunjae tap your shoulder and you suddenly give him such a beautiful smile. Why the fuck does Hyunjae get to see that smile?

He keeps watching the two of you talking from afar and you’re suddenly… laughing? Sangyeon’s eyes roll. The nerve of this guy, really. If Sangyeon had lasers for eyes he would've burnt holes in Hyunjae’s head right now.

He's never felt this feeling inside him before. Sure, he’s felt competitive especially when it was with you but this… felt different. He brushed off the thought and continued to observe the two of you.

Just when the conversation looked like it was ending, Sangyeon catches Hyunjae tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your body language clearly showing you were getting a bit flustered.

Now he’s done it…that motherfucker. Sangyeon’s jaw clenches way too hard at the sight and snaps the plastic utensil in his hand. Who does he think he is? Touching you and making you react that way?

That damn unsettling feeling bubbling in his veins rises again, but he’s too in denial at the moment to come to terms with it and buries it deep within his gut for now.

He pauses for a moment until suddenly gets a bright idea: He’s got another chance to get you alone during the party this Saturday night.

And this time… he’ll make sure nothing is going to get in his way.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

You walk into the party with Aera. Loud music blasting, people trying to talk over one another, and more than half of the people invited were already pissed drunk. When you try to turn to Aera, she’d already left you to go to Younghoon. Some kind of friend…

“Y/n!” You hear someone shouting your name from across the room. Hyunjae makes a beeline for you with a newly opened beer bottle in his hand.

“Hyunjae!” You shout, giving him a friendly hug.

“I’m so happy you made it!” His smile spreading from ear to ear. “C’mon, you’re late. We gotta get you caught up with the drinks.” Before you even have time to protest, he immediately grabs your wrist and guides you into the kitchen.

Sangyeon had caught your figure the moment you entered the house. You looked so beautiful tonight especially with the dress you were wearing, you looked absolutely stunning.

Okay, now I just have to wait for the right moment, he says to himself. But as he was about to get up from his spot on the couch, he saw you suddenly disappear into the crowd with Hyunjae…

He swears he’s never felt his jaw clench so hard in his life, especially seeing Hyunjae’s hand holding your wrist. He eventually gets up from his spot and tries to follow you both while keeping his distance.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

“Alright, choose your poison!” Hyunjae utters as you’re seated on top of the kitchen counter.

You playfully tap your finger against your lips. “Hmm, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you respond.

“If you say so.” He grins, popping open a bottle of beer.

You instantly take a swig at the drink, staring at Hyunjae while he stares back in amusement.

“A little eager aren’t we?”

“Well you did say to catch up right?” you respond.

Hyunjae carefully steps closer to you, your faces inches away from each other. You feel the heat of your cheeks slowly creep in. He’s much more handsome up close.

You’ve always had a tiny crush on Hyunjae if you were being completely honest. He was always fun to hangout with and made you laugh a lot (and you liked it when he would get a tiny bit touchy with you.)

Hyunjae slowly wipes off the droplet of beer from your bottom lip with his thumb and sucks it off, making your breath hitch while he watches your reaction.

“…Can I kiss you?” He whispers. You nod your head in response. Just as Hyunjae was about to lean in, loud shouts and a bottle crashing to the floor stops him and both your heads are directed to the source of the sound.

You realize your face was so close to Hyunjae when you turn your head back to him, making you feel all flustered. “Uh, excuse me for a bit. Gotta go use the restroom.” You mumble.

“Oh okay, sure. Go ahead.” He softly smiles back. You hop off from the kitchen counter and immediately make your way up the stairs.

Thank god for that bottle crashing, Sangyeon thinks to himself. He had been observing the two of you this whole time, nearly crushing the plastic cup in his hand when he saw Hyunjae leaning closer to you. He hated how easy it was for Hyunjae.

He’s snapped out of his own trance when he realizes where you’re heading and waits for you to go up the stairs before following. His window of opportunity was opening itself in front of him.

It's now or never.

───────•°•❀•°•───────

Taking a gulp of alcohol wasn’t a good idea as you felt your face warming up instantly. After freshening up in the bathroom, you let out a big sigh before closing the door behind you.

As you were walking down the hallway a hand suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you into an empty room, making you squeal in the process. Your back pressed up against the door and you hear the doorknob lock.

You’re caged under a taller male figure, his breath fanning over your face.

“Hyunjae, what are you doing?” You giggle, eyes still looking down at the floor.

You hear the figure hovering over you scoff. “Nope. Guess again, sweetheart.”

Oh no, that voice… Your heartbeat quickly increases as you look up, seeing the smug look on his face.

“What the fuck do you want Sangyeon?” You roll your eyes.

“I think there’s something we need to talk about. Something that’s way overdue, hm?” he replies.

You pause, waiting for him to continue talking.

“Look, you and I both know whatever happened that day wasn’t… normal.”

“What day?” You respond, trying to dodge his interrogation.

“Don’t play dumb now… the day we kissed in that closet.” He stares into your eyes.

“Do you wanna know why I did that? It was because you couldn’t shut your damn mouth which you nearly got us caught by the way, idiot.” You spit back.

”I don’t care about that shit anymore- You can’t convince me that you did not enjoy at least one second of that kiss.”

“You sucked a very sensitive part of my neck, of course I’m gonna moan, what did you expect?”

“No, no, no. I bet you were way more into it than you realize. You’re just afraid to admit it. Especially because it was with me.”

You scoff at his words, “You really think you have that effect over me? You’re really stupid if you think if you can make me genuinely moan for you like tha-”

Your words are cut off when Sangyeon’s hand gently grabs your neck, looking at you with fire blazing in his brown eyes.

“…Are you challenging me right now?” Leaning his face closer to yours. You gulp down your saliva by the sudden aggression, feeling a familiar heat between your thighs emerge. Please, not now…

He leans to the side to whisper closely to your ear, his voice dropping an octave lower. “Aren’t you forgetting something that happened that day too?”

Sangyeon slightly pulls away to see your reaction, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He didn't want to do it, but he had no choice but to strike while the iron was hot.

“No? Let me refresh your memory then... I wonder what the whole student body would think when they found out that I caught you sneaking your way to the top, that y/n isn’t the bright student everyone thinks she is…”

Your eyes widen. Shit. How could you forget that?

“Or it could be worse, coming out of the professor’s office looking all messed up… What would they think of you?” giving you his signature devilish smirk.

That last bit made your blood boil, your jaw clenching at his threat.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare-”

“Oh I fucking would.” Sangyeon pauses for a bit, his eyes drifting down to look at your lips then back up at your eyes again.

“Unless… you give me one thing I want.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Is he serious right now?

“What could you possibly want from me?” You mutter.

“You see, I’ve got this itch that needs to be scratched and only you can do it...”

“Oh for fuck’s sake get to the point Sang-”

“Let’s finish what we started in that closet.”

A moment of silence fills the room. You swear the loud thumping sound of your heart could be heard coming out of your chest.

“A-are you serious?” You stutter. “ I-I… thought you hated me.”

“Oh, sweetheart… I REALLY hate you-”

“But now you wanna fuck? What, are you in love with me or something?” you ask.

“The hell? I never said anything about falling in love-” Sangyeon lets out a big sigh before continuing.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Whether we like it or not, there’s no denying there’s some physical chemistry going on between us. I know it and you know it too.” He looks into your eyes waiting for you to respond, but you remain silent.

“So choose, either you scratch this itch or I tell everyone your little secret…”

Were you really going to allow your rival to use you like that? Or would you rather have your reputation gone in an instant?

Fuck it, you threw your morals out the window the moment you kissed him anyway… What's there to lose?

“Fine… I’ll do it. Just this one time and it will NEVER happen again.” You huff. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you-”

“Sweetheart, all I needed was a yes…”

Before you know it, Sangyeon moves his hand grabbing your throat to the back of your neck, pulling you close as his plush lips feverishly kiss and suck your sensitive area making you moan just like you did before.

“Shit- Sangyeon…” you breathlessly say.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you like this…” he groans into you neck.

His other hand start grabbing your hip, tightening his grip on the fabric of your dress while your fingers thread through his dark hair.

Sangyeon continues to suck and leave kisses on your neck, trying to desperately leave his mark there for everyone to see. You feel the sting when his teeth slightly nip at your sensitive area, making you pull his head back.

“No marks.” you warn him.

“Too late sweetheart, I already did.” He smirks.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

“Oh yeah?” Sangyeon lowers one of his hands, snaking it under your dress and immediately cupping your clothed mound. The feeling of his warm grip making you gasp loudly.

“Your body seems to love it though.” He whispers against your ear as he squeezes your soft skin, your moan sounding more desperate than the last. His fingers start slipping under your panties, moving them up and down between your folds, his fingers easily coated from your slick.

“Shit, already wet for me? We haven't even started yet.” he groans while circling your sensitive bud.

“She’s practically weeping for me sweetheart, begging to be touched. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Wanting me to touch you so badly like this during class?” the pace of his fingers increasing while the memory of your two earlier this week flashed in his mind.

“Mhmm…” you whimper, your mind incapable of uttering words from how good his fingers feel right now circling your throbbing clit.

Sangyeon’s other hand lets go of your neck and makes its way behind your knee, pulling it up so that you could wrap your leg around him.

Without warning, his fingers travel from your sensitive bud to your wet entrance, easing in his two thick fingers. He pulls his head away from your ear to watch your face form an “O” expression, his erection becoming harder from how beautiful you react to his touch.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Swallowing every inch of it.” Sangyeon coos while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You let out a whine in response.

He slams his fingers back inside you so deep and starts to curl his fingers inside at an ungodly pace, creating squelching sounds from your wet pussy.

“Mmm, Sangyeon-” you mewl as your hands grip his shoulders for support.

“Fuck, say my name like that again.” He growls in your ear. The vibrations of his voice making your walls clench around his fingers.

“S-Sanggyeoon…” your moans getting deeper, becoming more wanton the more he keeps up the pace. He feels your walls pulsating with every curl of his fingers.

“I-I can’t- oh shit, I’m gonna-” you pant against his ear, feeling the coil inside you snapping any second from now.

“Cum for me sweetheart, let it all out. Tell me, who’s making you feel this good?” he responds.

“Y-you are…” His free hand suddenly flies to grab hold of your neck again.

“No- Say my name- fuck- who’s making you feel this good? hm?”

“You are Sangyeon-oh fu-” your climax bursts out of you like fireworks, your vision blurring and seeing nothing but stars. He pulls out his fingers to inspect your gushed out fluids, instinctively sucking at them while his eyes bore into yours.

“You taste just as good as you sound sweetheart.” he grins.

Just when you think it’s over, he grips the back of your other knee, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Up.” You follow his command without hesitation, both your legs wrapped around his torso as he walks backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He fall backwards sitting on the bed while you end up straddling his lap.

Hands slide your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare legs and soaking panties as he leans forward to kiss your neck once again.

You palm his throbbing erection straining through his jeans, eliciting a very deep moan from him.

His kisses travel from your neck to your collarbone, his fingers quickly pulling down the straps of your dress and exposing your bare chest to him.

“God, You’re so beautiful…” he mumbles into your skin while kissing and groping your breasts as you start grinding your hips onto his aching member. Groans and soft moans echoing around the room.

Sangyeon couldn't take it anymore, he desperately needed you right now. And just like some telepathic signal you help him out of his pants, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down along with his boxers down to his knees.

His aching cock slaps against his abdomen, his angry red tip smothered in precum. Your mouth waters at the sight, wondering if he’ll be able to fit all of it inside you.

“We’ll make it fit” Sangyeon grins, as if he could read your mind.

“I hate it when you get so cocky, it’s so annoying…” You roll your eyes.

“And I hate it when you’re a wound-up tight bitch.” he spits back as he aggressively pulls your panties to the side and rubs the tip against your folds and poking in your entrance. It’s only his tip and you’re already starting to whimper.

“I'll take it back… I like it when you’re so tight.” His smug smile makes you want to strangle him on the spot.

“You talk way too much, can you just get on with it alrea-” Sangyeon pushes his whole length inside you until he’s bottomed out, making you both moan in unison. You feel so full of him, something you’ve never felt before in your life.

Meanwhile Sangyeon has never felt this kind of tightness before, breathing deeply to control himself. You haven’t even moved yet and he swears he might cum in seconds.

You start to slowly bounce up and down his length, his hands on your hips guiding your pace. He hisses at the warmth and tightness of your walls, making him tilt his head back in pleasure.

“We’ve should’ve done this a long time ago- fuck- and maybe we wouldn't have been at each other’s throats all the time.” He chuckles, a deep groan following after.

“Y-yeah, oh-” you whine. You push your weight forward, making Sangyeon back lie against the mattress. The tip of his cock starts to nudge your sweet gummy spot, making you rock your hips faster.

You both moan in unison again, your velvety walls clenching harder on his hardened length.

You lean your face closer to Sangyeon’s as you’re rocking your hips. He couldn’t help but stare at your fucked out face. Taking to memory how beautiful you look right now. His eyes slowly travel down to your lips, those heavenly lips.

“Kiss me.” He blurts out.

“W-what?” You pant.

“Kiss me, please!” There’s more desperation in his tone.

You passionately kiss him, just like the first time. His hands cup your face to deepen the kiss. Your lips molding with his perfectly like they were made for each other, forgetting everything around you for a moment in time.

Sangyeon’s tongue swipes your bottom lip repeatedly, desperately asking for entrance. Your tongues moving and twirling harmoniously, more passionate than ever before.

Your bodies were so entwined with one another to the point that if people had watched the both of you right now, not an ounce of hatred or rivalry could be seen.

Everything started to feel overwhelming for Sangyeon, feeling his cock throbbing hard, signaling his approaching climax. He could tell yours was near as your walls were clenching around him harder than ever.

“Sangyeon, I-I’m gonna cu-” you plead.

“M-me too, t-together.” His speech slurred by the second. His hands grip your hips, pistoning himself into you to reach your climaxes faster.

You both reach your highs at an instant, moaning into each other’s mouths so hard. Ropes of his seed spilling into you as you gush out onto his member. His cock doesn't stop twitching inside you after that.

You lift your hips to get off him, plopping your back to the spot beside him. There’s a moment of silence between you two as both try to catch your breath.

“You win…I take back everything I've said” Sangyeon breathes out.

“W-what?” you reply, confused by his words.

“If you allow me to keep fucking you like this…” He gulps down his saliva.

“…you can be the top student all you want from now on.”